Turning back to the young witch who was in the room and had hurriedly left before returning with Skeeter, Harry said, "I've come to organise a subscription to your... newsparchment. What do I need to fill out and how much does it cost?"
"Oh, I'm sure I can organise that for you up in my office, Lord Peverell," said Skeeter, looking itching to drag him off to there, right that moment.
"Why?" he asked. "You're supposedly a journalist. Subscriptions are not your job."
Without waiting for a response, he turned back to the young witch. "Miss?" he asked. "A subscription form, please."
After a glance at Skeeter the witch turned back, clearly unsure what to do.
Harry frowned at her. "Miss, if you are unable to do something so simple as hand me a subscription form, perhaps I should contact your boss and ask them for one."
With a little start, the witch purposefully ignored Skeeter, quickly reached under her counter and, a bare second later, the form was in front of Harry on the counter surface. Harry was going to fill it out and pay for it while he was there, but wouldn't do that now while Skeeter was there, too.
Picking it up, he stared at her for a moment expressing slight anger, before he said, "Thank you." Then he turned away to walk out.
"Lord Peverell!" Skeeter blurted.
When Harry turned back she said, "Perhaps... now that you're not recovering from another fight... a further interview. The people would like to know where you've been these past many years―"
"Where I've been is not something I'm willing to share, Miss Skeeter," he firmly stated before turning away to walk out the door again, form shoved into his pocket. Over his shoulder, he called, "All you need to know is that I am called Lord Hardwin Peverell. And I easily kicked the arses of Dumbledore and his Disorder of the Burnt Buzzards; not once, but twice." As he held the door open for Luna, he looked back at the older witch and said, "And, if I can kick all their arses at the same time when they were lying in ambush of me, how big a threat are you to me? How big a threat am I to you... if you piss me off?"
Then the two were gone out in to the Alley and away.
Skeeter stared at the door for a long moment, her 'journalist' instincts urging her to chase after them; then shuddered when the young Lord's words finally sunk in.
As they stepped out into the Alley Luna latched onto Harry's left elbow, leaned in and quietly asked, "Fortescue's?"
It took only a second for Harry to agree. Yes, they had breakfast not that long ago, but there was something about Florean's fare... He could, at least, have a cup of tea and some scones with cream and jam. They sat at an inside table, but with a view back out into the Alley. And had only just sat when the young witch came by to take their order. That's when Harry remembered seeing her at Hogwarts.
As she walked off, Luna quietly said, "That's Martine Copplestone. She was in my year; Hufflepuff."
That's when Harry had it. It was just his sudden remembering the trim of her robes that finally had him remembering what she looked like a few years ago. She was one of the small percentage who's features significantly changed from when they were young teens to when they became adults.
"Hunh!" he lightly huffed. "She's changed a lot."
"We didn't," she said. "Physically, no," he shrugged. "Psychologically... I think we were likely the two who've most changed."
"No," she disagreed. "We two were probably the best at hiding our true selves. However, we both saw in the other the truth; at least, most of it. You may not have known I― have my gift."
Harry knew her slight verbal stutter was because they were in a public place and she was utterly unwilling to even whisper it when not somewhere at least a little secure.
"However," she continued, "You knew there was something quite different about me. You already knew that most of the creatures I mentioned were a sham. You knew I was using talking about them as a shield.
"Of course, I knew you even better than you thought anyone else did. You thought you'd kept it a secret from everyone; but, those of us who can see past those shields, could see the real you hidden within."
She shifted in her seat slightly and continued, "Hermione saw much of it; she'd worked out you weren't treated well at your relatives. However, that was because she is a very perceptive young lady.
"The Weasleys, too, saw a lot of it, but also thought the way you grew up was normal for muggles because they knew no better. And there were a few others who could, as I've heard the phrase, read between the lines and see a lot of the real you."
"And I could see the real you pop out every now and then," he said. "There'd be these moments... you'd get real focused and determined on something... then I'd see you squash it down and try to ignore it." She nodded. "I could... things had to happen the way they happened and I couldn't interfere in a lot of it."
"Yeah," he sighed. "I'd figured that out on Hadrian."
"Once you sorted your memories," she nodded.
"Yeah," he sighed again.
After finishing their teas in Florean's, Luna said, "It's time to go to Madam Primpernelle's to see about getting you some Sleek-Ezy for your hair."
Harry developed a slightly pained look, which had Luna grin back.
"It's important, Love," she said. "It'll be one more thing that we can change about your appearance that will alter a 'signature' look about you at first glance. You managed to get rid of the glasses, which removes the biggest one. The second biggest, the scar, is now so greatly reduced you practically have to be kissing you to see it. The fourth is your general appearance, which is altered by your new fit build and the tan you developed while on Hadrian. That just leaves the signature Potter messy black hair."
He still grimaced a little and said, "If you think it is necessary, then I'm willing to go along with it."
"Buck up, Love," she said. "It might also interest you to remember that Sleek-Ezy was invented by your great-grandfather, Henry."
That had Harry perk up a little.
.
.
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