Harry knew he should ignore her, not rise to the bait, but Harry was aware, dimly, that he'd never been good at listening to his head in these sorts of situations, preferring to defer to his wilful heart. "You leave him out of this," he snarled, whipping back around. Rita Skeeter's smug look of triumph only succeeded in incensing him further.

"Oh but you are rather fond of him, aren't you?" she prompted, and the quill positively trembled.

"What's it to you?" Harry deflected, wiping water from his eyes. His wand was in his hand, but he didn't want to cast a single spell anywhere near Skeeter; the next thing he'd know, she would have him up on charges for attacking her with a wild curse, it had been known to happen. So he just stayed dripping wet.

At least, being down the side-alley, people were generally too busy hurrying through the rain to look their way and pay much attention. He only had to contend with Skeeter. For now.

The reporter twirled one of her tight, platinum blond ringlets, and glanced upwards, as if considering. "You set an example to so many people Harry," she simpered, the use of his given name grating. "People just want to try and understand this rash decision you've made."

"There was nothing rash about it," Harry bit out, then regretted it. He shouldn't be talking to this woman at all, he knew how obscenely she could twist even the simplest of words, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. "We grew up, we became friends, we fell in love, end of."

She shook her head, seemingly distressed. "Harry," she admonished, and he felt like taking a swing at her. Like she had any right to advise him on anything. "This is still a very delicate time, people look to you for inspiration, leadership?"

"That's their problem, not mine," Harry challenged. He didn't really mean it, he wanted to help people, he always did. But that wasn't going to affect his love life, of that he was absolutely determined. "If they don't like Draco, they can lump it."

"You think people are wrong to be abhorred by the fact you've chosen to align yourself with a know Death Eater?" she asked, scandalised. "You don't think people have a right to be upset about that, or feel concern for your welfare?"

"Former Death Eater," Harry spat out. "Acting under duress. We made a statement about this back in May. You can look it up. I'm not repeating the same old nonsense over again!"

"You think Death Eaters are nonsense Harry?" she asked, blinking her wide, innocent looking eyes from under her umbrella.

"That's not what I said-" he shot back.

"Whatever happened to that lovely Weasley girl?" Skeeter ploughed on, jutting her chin up to indicated her brothers' shop. "You seemed very happy with her?"

"Ginny has nothing to do with this," Harry retorted, shaking an angry fist and flinging water droplets into Rita's pretty little dry patch at her feet.

"She was a hero, the saviour of the school," Rita implored, as if Harry didn't know that full well. "Whilst your little boyfriend was scampering at the Dark Lord's feet, she was defying his people and keeping the resistance spirit alive, at great personal risk to herself."

"I'm not denying that," Harry ground out between his teeth. "But if you think Draco was anything but terrified-"

"He was alive," Skeeter cut across him. "Which is more than can be now said for Ginevra's brother." A jolt of pure ice shot through Harry's insides that had nothing to do with the cold rain drenching his clothes.

"How dare you bring up Fred," he hissed, his anger making little spots dance in front of his eyes.

"There's no denying the facts, Harry dear," Skeeter carried on blithely. "Now, I know you left poor Ginny for someone aligned to the people that murdered her brother, but she's a tough girl, a brilliant girl. I'm sure she would take you back, Harry."

"Is there no low you won't sink to?" Harry demanded viciously, all too aware of the quill scribbling furiously on the third page from the pad since they had started talking. "Dragging Fred into this, making me seem like I abandoned Ginny-"

"Didn't you?"

"It was mutual!" Harry spat out, sending more raindrops flying as he gesticulated angrily. "We weren't in love, we became friends, and then I got with Draco and we are in love."

Skeeter smirked. "I'm sure you think you are dear," she simpered condescendingly. "And when it all falls apart, we can all only hope that Ginny Weasley will be there to pick up the pieces once again."

"What's your obsession with her!" Harry shouted. "If you think she's that fucking marvellous, why don't you date her?"

Rita visibly drew up at that, her already rouged cheeked reddening further. "I, why – don't be disgusting," she stuttered.

"Ahh," said Harry, finally feeling like he was getting the upper hand. "There we go. It isn't that I'm dating a former Death Eater, is it?" He stepped closer, purposefully splattering water into her rain-free circle. "You don't like that I'm dating a boy, do you Ms Skeeter?"

"I never said that," she snapped. "But," she continued as she visibly regrouped. "You have to admit it's not the best image to be sending out, especially to all those young children who look up to you. It's confusing."

"What?" Harry snarled. "What's confusing? That two grown men are in love? That forgiveness and kindness are as important as strength and determination? " He thrust a finger into the loathsome woman's face. "I don't care what you print about me, say what you like. I don't care. You are a wriggling insect, inside and out, and I'll put up with you and everyone else's hatred, you won't break us up."

He grabbed up his suitcase, jammed the key into the door, and yanked it open. He was just about to give it that satisfactory slam shut he'd been yearning for, when her voice, trembling but defiant, came drifting over the threshold.

"I guess I'll just have to find out what young Mr Malfoy has to say about it then."

Harry shoved his luggage to the floor, dripping noisily on the tiles. "You leave Draco alone," he growled, fear curling in his chest.

"Oh but Harry, darling," she said, giving him a hollow, wicked smile. "I want to hear his defence on why The Boy Who Lived should be dragged down by a fat, disgraced loser like himself. You can't always be there to speak for the little wretch, can you?"

Harry was so infuriated he almost lunged for her, unable to think straight, but luckily he felt an unexpected pair of hands grab his shoulders and pull him back. "What the bloody hell is going on here then?" Ron demanded, scowling over his shoulder. Harry felt a wave of relief roll over him. He couldn't have a clue what they had been talking about, and he had still leaped to Harry's side without a moment's pause.

Skeeter bristled, clearly not as willing to use the dead as an inflammatory tactic when their relatives were actually present. "Harry and I were merely having a conversation," she said evenly.

"She was insulting me and Draco, and trying to use Fred's death to make me feel guilty and get back with Ginny!" Harry bellowed, and he felt Ron stiffen against him.

"Right," he replied. "Well, I think it's probably best you leave in that case, before something unpleasant happens." He looked Skeeter up and down unflatteringly. "More unpleasant," he amended.

Skeeter's jaw dropped down, but Harry finally got his chance and slammed the door good and proper, leaving him and Ron standing in the sparse hallway behind the shop front. Harry was shaking from anger and cold, distracted by the hundred thoughts flying through his brain, so he almost jumped when Ron pulled him in for a hug.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Harry hugged him back. "No," he said into his clothes. "Not really."

"Come on," Ron sighed, picking up Harry's suitcase and flicking his wand so they were both dry again. "Let's go up and make tea, and you can tell me all about it."