The Altar Deserter

Chapter Two

Ingenious Ideas

Five years and four almost-weddings later...

Daily Prophet reporter Colin Creevey was headed out for an ice cream at Florean Fortescue's during break. "Oi! Colin!" Colin's head turned. Harry and Ron were beckoning to him from another table. They were both in Auror robes, though both were obviously off-duty.

"Hey," Colin said, moving over to sit with the two. "Where's Hermione?"

"Working," Ron informed him.

"Oh. So... what do you want me here for?" Colin asked, putting his notebook and quill into his bag with his camera.

"What do you mean?" Harry said, squirming slightly.

"Well... I'm not exactly the type you usually want around," Colin said. "I mean, I'm a reporter, and you're Harry Potter."

"Fine. If you won't accept our explanation that you're our friend, then I'm going to say that it's so I can use you as a shield of sorts, you know, to repel other reporters away once they see I'm with you," Harry said, shrugging.

"Now that's something I can understand," Colin joked. "Talking about reporters... Wasn't Pansy Parkinson in your year at school?"

"Yeah," Ron said, frowning. "So what? Didn't she ditch Michael Corner at the altar a while ago?"

"Yep. She's a hot topic these days; the Prophet pays a big bonus to anyone who comes out with a story on her. And they'd pay lots more for the reason why she keeps on running away. They've even got these flashy signs up in the newsroom. Do you..."

Harry sighed, interrupting the younger man. "Wish we could help, but she's not exactly a friend of ours. Went out with Malfoy, remember?"

"I suppose," Colin said, shrugging.

"You don't need money, do you?" Harry said, sounding concerned. "Because Ginny and I-"

"No. No money from you," Colin said, shaking his head. "Look, why don't you use that money to get married? Mrs. Weasley'd stop complaining..."

"Didn't she say to call her Molly? You know... I don't think I'll ever get used to that. Anyway, we don't feel like it just yet," Harry said defensively. "And neither do Ron and Hermione, while we're on the subject."

Ron, who had been sitting silent in thought for a minute, suddenly spoke up. "If you want information," he said, "why don't you just go out with Parkinson? She's free right now... you might be able to get the reason out of her. I got the idea from an Auror situation we had once during basic training."

"You mean by trickery?" Harry said. "Ron, if you've forgotten, Parkinson's a pureblood nutter, like Malfoy. There's always that Muggle-born thing."

"Yeah, but Colin can manage to get on her good side," Ron said. "All he needs is to pretend it's a fling, you know? No commitments; he's a handsome bloke." Colin blushed.

"What good side? Parkinson has no good side," Harry said. "She was an utter cow at school."

"She's not that intelligent," Ron said. "She'll think Colin's got some crush on her, and she'll play along, thinking that she can go and walk all over his heart after a while."

"If she's not that intelligent, then how does she come up with a plan like that?" Harry said skeptically. "It's not like she can go to Malfoy. He certainly wouldn't even condone going near Colin."

"She's a Slytherin!" Ron spluttered. "They're all like that!"

Harry and Ron stared at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Colin raised an eyebrow. "He's got a point," Harry said fairly. "They are."

"You know, it's not right to stereotype," a voice said from behind Ron. Ginny settled down in the chair next to Harry and scooted it closer to him. Colin sighed inwardly, feeling a bit jealous of Harry. It had been no secret at Hogwarts that Colin Creevey had harbored a not-so-secret crush on his best friend, Ginny Weasley. Of course, Colin would never admit that such an immature crush still remained in him. "As you were almost one yourself," she expanded.

"Well," Harry drawled in an imitation of a certain Slytherin's voice, "no one ever said I wasn't playing along and planning to stomp on a certain redhead's heart." Ron looked mutinous for a moment before realizing it was a joke.

"Ha, ha," Ginny said wryly, rolling her eyes. "Ron, you'd better watch out, Harry's about to cheat on you and denounce your affair in front of the entire world."

"My affair?" Ron said, turning red. "We... we're not... I'm not gay!" he spluttered. "If we w-were having an affair, then he'd be cheating on you!"

"Oh, dear, are you saying that all my flowers and presents went to the wrong Weasley?" Harry said, smirking at Ginny. "Hedwig must be getting old; I told her to send them to Ron, not Ginny." Ginny covered her smile with her hand. "Honestly, Ron, you're far too wound up about these things."

"That's not funny," Ron hissed, sounding annoyed. "What if... what if Rita Skeeter heard, and she decided to publish it? Hermione would probably end up in Azkaban for murder, for one."

"We need a laugh," Harry said, shrugging. "Picture the headline: RON WEASLEY AND HARRY POTTER'S SECRET LOVE CHILD SPEAKS OUT: 'My Parents Loved Each Other Since That First Train Ride!' Then they'd have a picture too..."

"Hermione'd have a fit and go after the press with an ax," Ron pointed out.

"Hey, Ginny," Colin said, switching the subject. "What do you think of the idea that I go after Pansy Parkinson and..."

"Michael Corner just tried that," Ginny interrupted. "And you two have no morals," she added, glaring at her brother and Harry.

"What do you mean, we have no morals?" Ron said, looking confused.

"Well, it's obvious that Colin didn't think of such a horrible idea."

"How do you know he isn't just a sly devil in disguise?" Ron said innocently. "I for one know about Colin's many trysts with older girls in broom closets..."

"That was you, Ron," Harry said. "And we should simplify that to one girl who thought you were someone else," he added smugly.

Ron scowled. "Shut up, Harry. It's not like you were the Sex God of Hogwarts."

"I didn't want to be."

"You two both are big-headed prats," Ginny said, shaking her head. "Look, Colin, do what you want; I can't stop you, but I'm telling you that that's not right, what Michael tried to do and what you want to do."

"But it's Pansy Parkinson," Colin protested. "You remember what she did to us in our sixth year... her and that Daphne girl. They dumped frog spawn on us! Not to mention all those times she laughed at Malfoy's comments..."

Ginny remained stoic. "Come on, Ginny, Colin needs the money and he won't take any of his friends' money," Harry said.

"All right," Ginny said. "I won't complain."

"Lovely," Ron said. "I'm bloody starving..." he added as the ice cream arrived.

"You're always starving to death. One wonders how exactly you've lived this long if you've been in mortal peril so many times," Ginny said dryly. Harry immediately froze. Ginny's eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry..."

"It's all right," he said hurriedly. He changed the subject. "Isn't that Pansy Parkinson right there?"

Colin turned to look at what Harry was looking at. A pale woman with long black hair was trying to make herself blend in with the crowd. He couldn't blame her. If he were Pansy Parkinson, he'd be locked up in his flat, peering fearfully out boarded-up windows. "Here's your chance," Ginny said coolly.

"Erm... okay," Colin said, feeling suddenly unprepared. Ginny continued to watch him challengingly. Harry and Ron had encouraging looks in their eyes. He gulped, then started towards the former Slytherin, forcing himself to breathe. She was never a true Death Eater, he assured himself. "H-Hi," Colin managed to choke out.

Pansy turned her dark eyes towards him, taking in his rather old bag, peering at the camera strap hanging out and the quill sticking out from one of the side pockets. Her mouth turned down into a frown, and her upturned nose wrinkled in annoyance. Colin pushed his glasses - he had acquired them in his fifth year, and he had liked them up until now - up his sweaty nose. "What do you want?" she asked coldly.

"You were a year ahead of me at Hogwarts," Colin blurted out. A moment later, he felt incredibly stupid. What kind of introduction was that?

Pansy continued to glare at him. "You look familiar," she finally said after a moment of painful (on Colin's part) silence. "Ravenclaw?"

"Er, no, Gryffindor," Colin said.

Pansy's mouth immediately curled into a disgusted sneer, as if there was a dead animal in front of her. "Gryffindor," she repeated slowly. "Gryffindor." She thought for a moment. "You wouldn't happen to be the annoying one... the Muggle-born with the camera... Creepy, right?" She said "Muggle-born" as if it was an insult to her vocal chords.

"Creevey," Colin corrected nervously.

"Pansy," a voice said urgently. Both Colin and Pansy turned to look at a woman with blonde curls. "Pansy, some bastard from The Daily Prophet's been tailing you... we'd better leave before they find you here."

"Too late, Daphne," Pansy said icily. "I've been found." She nodded at Colin.

"It's the camera boy always following Weaselette around," another voice drawled. Colin's blood chilled. He could handle Pansy Parkinson, but when it came to Draco Malfoy... It was a name Colin would always associate with Voldemort, even if Draco had turned spy against his master. Malfoy stood behind Daphne, smirking.

Colin's eyes darted back at Ginny and the others. Ron and Harry were now rising from their seats, looking determined. Colin swore inwardly. He could already see the confrontation, and it wasn't pretty. No, sit down! "Hello, Malfoy," he squeaked, shaking slightly.

Malfoy seemed to notice this, and his smirk grew wider. It was replaced by a snarl as soon as Harry and Ron appeared, though. "Potter. Weasley," he spat, looking as if his fun had evaporated.

"Malfoy," Harry said, his eyes narrowing. "Fancy seeing you here."

"I could say the same for you," Malfoy replied, sneering. "I didn't think renegade Death Eaters hid out in an ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley."

"Oh, I see one right now," Ron snarled, staring at Malfoy. "A rich little snot, too."

"Draco played a bigger part in the war than you did, Weasley," Daphne said.

"Yeah, by running after dear old dad and his master, killing Muggles," Ron replied.

"Watch it, Weasley," Malfoy said, "or you may find that your little stories of me murdering people like you aren't so far-fetched."

Ron scowled. "Say whatever you'd like, Malfoy, but we know you're too much of a coward to do anything outright. Wouldn't be an out-of-the-closet Death Eater, wouldn't be an out-in-the-open Light supporter either. Let's go, Harry." He and Harry turned around and started off in the opposite direction.

"We all know Potter's the true murderer, taking his own sweet time to defeat the Dark Lord," Malfoy said.

Harry tensed, but he chose to ignore the comment. Colin was glad. He didn't want to be the reporter on the scene of a brawl. Malfoy stared after them, looking angry, as they disappeared into the crowds. Ginny glared at the three former Slytherins, nodded at Colin briefly, then went after her brother and Harry, leaving Colin alone. Colin bit his lip.

"What're you waiting for?" Malfoy said, staring at Colin in annoyance.

"I-I..." Colin found himself terrified once more of the former school bully, now that Harry, Ron, and Ginny had left.

"A camera, huh?" Malfoy said, yanking Colin's camera from his slackened grip. "Full of incriminating, sordid pictures, no doubt, seeing what kind of rags the media puts out nowadays. I almost wish there was a war going on; at least I wouldn't have to look at the 'who's going out with who' rubbish you lot publish. Well, no doubt the world will be better off not knowing whether Potter wears boxers or briefs..." He dangled the camera from two fingers.

"No!" Colin said, jumping forward and lunging for the camera. Malfoy held it out of reach, smirking. Colin swore. There were important pictures of the International Magical Conference of the Arts on that film... "Give that back, Malfoy! It's important!"

"Oh, really?" Malfoy said sardonically. "Then I suppose I'd better put it somewhere safe, maybe in a pool of lava, so that no one could get to it..."

"Please," Colin begged. If Wesley Chesterfield found out he didn't have pictures of the conference, he would be out on the street and begging before he could say "Malfoy". "Please, I'll be sacked... You don't know what Chesterfield's like..."

"That's one more job for someone who's not a fanboy of Potter's, then," Malfoy said unconcernedly. "Sounds like a plan to me."

"Please! I need the money from the job," Colin pleaded.

"Oh, and what's a rich, snot-nosed, Daddy's boy brat like me going to think about that?" Malfoy said, mock thoughtfully. "I dunno... According to you and your friends, I've never had to lift a finger. What would I understand about work?"

"Draco," Daphne said quietly.

Malfoy continued to look challengingly into Colin's eyes. "Colin! Hey, Colin, what are you still doing here? Ginny thought you were right behind..." Harry came into view, trailing off as his eyes took in the scene playing out in front of him. "What's going on?"

"Give me my camera, Malfoy," Colin said, a cold feeling washing over him. He was going to get sacked; he'd be out on the streets... A scene rose up in his mind. He was dressed in rags, sitting on the side of Knockturn Alley with a pipe in his mouth and a basket with one Knut in it in front of him.

Malfoy glanced at Harry nervously. "Why?" he said, not sounding as confident as before.

"Give me the camera, Malfoy," Harry said, his eyes narrowing. "I thought we passed the first year, but clearly, you still belong in a romper suit and a puffball jumper."

Malfoy made one more attempt to salvage some dignity, sneering, "As you wish, Potter. It's not as if I care about preventing Creevey from making money. I'd doubt he'd ever get to a million Galleons." He chucked the camera at Harry's head. Harry caught it expertly, glowering at his nemesis until Malfoy beckoned for the women to follow him, blending into the crowd.

"Here," Harry said, extending the camera towards Colin. "All right?"

Colin felt a flush creeping up his neck. This was wholly embarrassing, having to be rescued by Harry once again. Couldn't he defend himself? He felt a rush of anger towards Harry suddenly, feeling sure that had he been left alone for a few minutes longer, he would have had the camera back. Why did Harry have to come and defend him as if he were a first year at Hogwarts? "Thanks," he muttered, grabbing the camera. "I'll see you later." Then he strode away, not looking back.

***

General meetings of The Daily Prophet were a synonym for chaos. Colin had heard that Editorial meetings were organized and effective, but when everyone was gathered, there was no order at all. At the moment, thirty reporters, eleven editors, ten camera people, and one editor-in-chief - Wesley Chesterfield - were seated at a giant conference table. And they were all talking at once.

"... Skeeter's got a new editorial piece she wants us to pay one hundred Galleons for," Trixie Stevens, the Op-Ed editor, said to her coworker, Ulysses Hughes, the Editorial page editor.

"... think I'm going to do how Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley seem to be in a tiff right now..." Rose Zeller, a cub reporter, was telling another new reporter, Euan Abercrombie, who had evidently been in her year at Hogwarts.

"Didn't you do that..." Colin managed to hear part of Euan's reply before he was cut off by Cara Boot's loud and drowning-out voice. He shook his head and pulled out his unfinished article on the goblin strike... he hadn't felt like writing it the day before.

"Our funds seem to be running low; we're going to have to get a few more ads into the paper," she said, consulting her stack of parchment and pushing her horn-rimmed glasses farther up the bridge of her nose. "Or we're going to have to send some of the cubs out to increase our circulation so that we get profits."

"We're not getting profits?" a cameraman, Peter Wertz, asked the business manager in a worried voice.

"No, no, no," Cara said exasperatedly, shifting her lists. "Raw materials cost a certain amount of money. We have to get the amount taken in to surpass the amount being exported... what that means is the paper and ink need to take away less than what people are paying."

"Uh... okay," Peter said, looking rather confused. "But-"

"SHUT UP!" Chesterfield had evidently become increasingly angry as the minutes were wasted, for his face was red and a vein was popping out of his round face. The room became silent. "Now that it's quiet," Chesterfield continued irritably, "and we can finally begin the actual meeting, let's start. Miss Boot, give us the financial report, will you?"

"Like I was explaining to Wertz earlier," Cara said in a polished tone, "our funds are running low, so if White," she glared at the advertisement department head, "would get off his lazy arse-"

"I'm not lazy, you bloody cow!" Devon White shouted back defensively.

"White! Control yourself!" Chesterfield barked. "Boot, if you can refrain from insulting those who you are depending on... if you did that more often, then perhaps we wouldn't be so low in funds!"

White let out a low, triumphant whistle. Cara shot him a venomous look. Chesterfield sighed. "Forget it. Ideas for articles?"

"Harry Potter's..." Rose started.

"You did that already," the entire rest of the newspaper chimed in a uniform monotone.

"No, wait... see, this time, I'm going to..." Rose said.

"Zeller, kindly brainstorm some new ideas that do not involve Potter," Chesterfield growled. Rose looked devastated as she took out a quill and a piece of parchment. "Creevey!"

Colin jumped. "Yes, sir?" he said, pretending he had been watching Chesterfield the entire time and not finishing up an article.

"The pictures."

Colin grimaced as he pulled out his developed photos of the International Arts convention. He hadn't wanted to go to the convention at all, but he hadn't thought of an article idea in time, so he had been assigned to the story. Needless to say, the pictures were not done well at all. He handed them to Chesterfield and winced as the editor-in-chief scowled at them.

"Dismal, Creevey," he snarled, ripping one in half. Colin twitched involuntarily.

The door opened, and Zacharias Smith stepped in. "Late, Smith!" Chesterfield said.

"Sorry, sir, I was interviewing the Minister," Smith said.

"Of course," Chesterfield said warmly. "Anything for my best reporter." He offered the former Hufflepuff a rare (and rather thin) smile. Colin and Devon White exchanged glances. White rolled his eyes. Smith sat down, smirking. "Now, Creevey," Chesterfield said, his voice back to being grouchy, "this is a pile of shit." He tore all the photos in half, then again, and finally a third time, before throwing them at Colin like confetti.

"Now, I would sack you for the repeated bad performances... this, the goblin strike a few years ago, I could go on for a week... but due to your suicidal tendencies..."

"I'm not suicidal!" Colin spluttered.

"How do you explain jumping in front of a basilisk?" Chesterfield asked.

"I didn't jump in front of it!" Colin said. "And that was twelve years ago!"

"As I was saying, because of your unbalanced nature, I will only do this: you will be assigned to the smaller stories until you can prove that you are what your Head of House said you were in her recommendation. If you have any ideas for any articles, get rid of them, or otherwise sell the article to another paper. Don't give them to me."

"But-"

"Chesterfield, I think Creevey has an idea. Perhaps one of us can use it," Smith said, looking smug.

"Well, Creevey?" Chesterfield said. "Do the newspaper some good."

"I... I was going to try to find out the reason behind Pansy Parkinson's refusal to marry," Colin said quietly.

There was silence. Suddenly, Chesterfield began to laugh loudly. "You? You?" he gasped, tears of mirth running down his cheeks. "What makes you think that you'd even be able to get her to look at you, if someone like Michael Corner fails at getting her secret? Pansy Parkinson's a bad and smart girl, Creevey... don't think she's stupid. She can actually hurt you, you know. Or she'll get Malfoy, which would be worse."

Colin remained silent, glaring at Chesterfield. "I'd expect more brains from a Head Boy like you, but since it's you..." Chesterfield continued.

Colin stood up, rage building inside of him. His hand reflexively hit his pocket, expecting to take out his wand, but Colin managed to stop it. Some of the reporters shrank back, but Chesterfield remained in his gleeful state.

"Go on, Creevey," he said goadingly. "Do the story. I dare you."