Hey what's up, it's been a while *checks date of last chapter* ...

The aftermath of the second task led to Fred's fifteen minutes of fame, as Harry called it. Everyone seemed to be very keen on getting the details of the lake. Fred had to remind them that he was unconscious the whole time and wouldn't know, but he did share what Dumbledore had done: put the hostages into a bewitched sleep that would last until they were back above the water.

When Fred, George, and Lee went down for breakfast one week later, they spotted Pansy Parkinson and her group of Slytherins sniggering at something they couldn't see. Parkinson saw Fred and said, "There he is, there he is!"

"You might find something to interest you in there, Weasley!" she said loudly, and she threw the magazine at Fred, who caught it.

Harry Potter: The Boy-Who-Lived-to-be-Gay?

"What a mouthful," George grumbled with a derisive snort.

Fred nodded in agreement, remembering Harry's derisive comment about how important people seemed to always have long names. Voldemort was You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry was the Boy-Who-Lived, and the Headmaster was Albus too-many-middle-names Dumbledore.

A boy like no other, perhaps— yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady boyfriend at Hogwarts, Fred Weasley. But is the love truly reciprocated?

Mr. Weasley was seen with Harry at the Yule Ball, which left many suitable ladies devastated and heartbroken. He said he was looking forward to something, and after the ball was finished, Mr. Weasley and Harry Potter shared a tender kiss.

However, it might not be Mr. Weasley's doubtful natural charms that have captured our hero's interest.

"He's not particularly handsome," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but he has a knack for pulling pranks. Maybe that's why he did it. Perhaps he used a love potion. He and his twin brother are quite good with potions, even if their marks don't show it."

Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate.

"What the hell?" Fred said. "Love potion? Puh-lease! As if I'd waste my time with that rubbish!"

"It's Rita Skeeter," Lee reminded them. "You know she'll do anything for publicity."

Fred turned toward the Slytherins, who were watching him closely for his reaction, and flipped them off with his wand as an extension of his middle finger. "Although," he added more thoughtfully, "how did she know...?"

"About what?"

"The kiss. There was no one around!" Fred said. "At least, we didn't see anyone."

George frowned, catching on. "Well, you were both pretty much oblivious to your surroundings. Maybe she was watching from around the corner."

"Maybe." Fred shook his head and dug into his food.

Meanwhile, Harry had reached the dungeons where Potions was held and was listening to his dormmates read the article to themselves. Truthfully, while Harry was irritated with it, he wasn't surprised by Rita's obvious dislike of Harry's choice in partner, even if he was insulted on Fred's behalf. "'Not particularly handsome'?" he grumbled. "Sounds like Parkinson needs glasses more than I ever did."

But what was really bothering him was the fact that she knew about their kiss. How? Harry would readily admit that he was not paying attention to his surroundings, but Skeeter couldn't be that good at hiding, could she? Oh, who was he kidding? That woman was notorious for writing extremely inaccurate articles; this was probably nothing compared to the other things she might've written about.

A week passed, and then the hate mail came. One of the envelopes had undiluted bubotuber pus that would have spilled over Fred's hands if it hadn't been for Harry yanking him back away from it.

Girls began eyeing Fred with pure hatred as they passed him in the hall. "Harry, don't you want to sit with your own house?" one girl asked during lunch.

"No, I'm perfectly fine where I am," Harry said coolly. Luna, who had taken to joining him in silent support, merely blinked up at the girl, almost daring her to say something else.

The girl didn't say anything, just sent Fred another heated glare that he did not acknowledge and left.

"I hate that Skeeter woman!" Harry suddenly spat, making Fred jump; Harry was normally very mild. "I'll get her back for this if it's the last thing I do!"

Over the course of the next week, Harry and Luna continued to sit with Fred, pointedly ignoring anyone who had something negative to say. The hate mail did not subside, and Fred even received Howlers, which screeched their insults and promised vengeance.

"How is she listening to private conversations when she's supposed to be banned from the grounds?" Harry wondered after one particularly nasty one.

He asked Professor Moody if he had seen her, but the ex-Auror had not. "She couldn't have used an Invisibility Cloak," he said. "Moody said he hadn't seen her anywhere near the lake."

"Well, that eliminates that," Lee said.

"Maybe she had us bugged," Harry said to himself.

"Like fleas?" George said, confused.

Harry started explaining about hidden microphones and recording equipment, then realized something. "No, it can't be that. Magic makes those Muggle stuff go all haywire, so she must be doing this magically."

It amazed Fred how Harry was able to research possible ways Skeeter could've known on top of doing his own homework and studying and worrying about the Third Task. "He's amazing, isn't he?" he said dreamily when George commented on it.

"Yes, very," George said dryly. All the hate mail had not deterred Fred from being hopelessly mushy when it came to Harry.

"Back off, he's mine," Fred snarled halfheartedly.

Not to mention, extremely possessive.

The middle finger with the wand thing Fred did was inspired by someone who did exactly that at a party one time

Not my best, but I wanted to get the hate mail fiasco out of the way