Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K.R.

Author's notes: This chapter is much shorter than the others. Since many of you complained about the long chapters, I guess you don't mind.

This chapter is dedicated to Brian. Thank you for your nice review, and I hope you'll get to read all of this story.

10

At the sound of the knock on the door Harry took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He plastered a smile on his face and opened the door.

'Good morning, Hermione. Please, come in.' He held the door open for her.

'Good morning, Harry.' An uneasy smile on her face, Hermione stepped into the apartment. 'You wanted to talk?'

'Yeah, but let's make ourselves comfortable first. This will take some time.' He ushered her into the living room and called for Breezy to bring them tea and biscuits.

Hermione acknowledged his hospitality with a slight frown, otherwise she kept silent until Breezy had served the tea and popped away. She took a sip of her tea and looked around in the small room. 'Won't Daphne join us?'

Harry put his cup back onto the saucer. 'She's visiting with Tori and won't be back soon.'

Hermione's eyebrows shot up at his words. 'She left you alone to meet with me? That's amazing, I thought she never lets you out of her sight.'

A wave of heat rushed through Harry's body, and he flattened his lips into a thin line. Would Hermione ever stop picking on Daphne?

'Daphne gives me all the space I need,' he said in a carefully controlled tone, and bent forward to pick up a biscuit from the platter Breezy had put onto the table, in a display of calmness he was far from feeling. 'It's just that I enjoy being with her, so you usually won't find me far from her.'

Hermione curled her lips in a faint sneer, despite that she refrained from another disparaging comment against Daphne. 'What is it you want to talk about?' she asked instead.

Harry took another fortifying sip of tea, put the cup back onto the coffee table, and pulled a small golden key out of the pocket of his robes. 'I promised to put up a stipend for you. Everything's settled; you are, among a few others, the recipient of a joint stipend from the Lily Potter Foundation for Gifted Witches and the Tracey Davis Foundation for Muggleborns. This is the key to your new vault at Gringotts.' He pushed the key across the table towards her.

Hermione's cheeks pinked. 'Harry! You shouldn't have! I told you -'

He held up his hands to forestall her further protests. 'Stop it, Hermione. You took care of me last year, let me take care of you now. Merlin knows I'll never be able to repay everything you've done for me. You've saved my life more than once.'

The pink on Hermione's face intensified, and there was a suspicious sheen in her eyes. 'I didn't do it for the reward, Harry.'

'This isn't a reward, Hermione. You are one of my oldest and closest friends, and I did it because it's plain to see you're in trouble. Let me help you, just like you helped me so many times.'

Her shoulders sagged in defeat. She bent forward and picked up the key. 'It still feels weird, but… Thank you, Harry, thank you from the bottom of my heart. You're right, I'm in a tight spot, and this will help to get me through until I'll earn money on my own.'

Harry let out a small breath. The first part of his talk to Hermione went much smoother than he had thought it would. She was a proud and independent Gryffindor, so he had expected much more opposition to his offer, even though she already had agreed to accept his help on the day of the first prefects meeting, when he confronted her about her attitude towards Daphne.

He took another sip of his tea. Why didn't he have the foresight to add some Firewhisky as liquid luck for what he had to say next? Silence descended on the room while he racked his brain for the right words to address the Erumpet horn between Hermione and him, only disturbed by the soft ticking of the ornate clock on the mantlepiece of the fireplace, one of the forgotten treasures Daphne had unearthed from the Potter heirloom vault.

At the thought of his wife Harry's lips curled into a gentle smile. Daphne! She did everything in her might to brighten his life, he owed it to her to address the issues between him and Hermione and take away some of the tension that still poisoned the air among the three of them.

If only he wasn't such a coward when it came to talking about his feelings to a girl. Except Daphne, of course. She wasn't any girl, she was his wife and his partner, and sometimes she seemed to understand him better than he did. Facing Voldemort had been a breeze compared to the talk he would now have with Hermione, at least there'd never been the danger Tommy-boy would burst out into tears if he said something wrong. With an inward grimace, he put down the cup and took a deep breath. 'There's more we have to talk about, Hermione.'

She gave him a sideward glance over her teacup, her eyes guarded. 'Is there?'

Damn, she knew what was coming, and by the looks of it had no intention to make it easy on him. He drew another deep breath.

'I owe you an apology, Hermione, although Merlin knows measly words aren't enough to make up for the way I took advantage of you after the events on that Christmas we spent on the run. I behaved like a cad to you; I only thought of myself and tainted what should have been a cherished memory for you with my selfishness.'

The colour came and went on Hermione's cheeks as he talked. She gripped the armrests of her chair and evaded his gaze. Another silence descended on the room, this time an uncomfortable one.

Harry shifted in his seat. If only she would say something, rant at him, scream off her head at him… Anything would be better than this awkward silence. Had he destroyed their friendship forever by broaching that sensitive topic? The palms of his hands became moist at that thought.

At length, Hermione turned her head and gave him a long, level look. 'You know, you're not the only one to blame, Harry. Last time I looked into a biology book it still said it takes two for that kind of activity.'

A snort escaped his mouth, and Hermione replied to that with a faint smile.

'I took as much advantage of you as you took of me. I was lonesome and scared and needed someone to hold me and make me feel alive, and you were there. I'd say we're even. That it didn't turn out to be as magical as I'd always dreamt…' Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged her shoulders. 'Kismet, don't you agree?'

'First times always suck,' Harry said with a sigh, 'At least that's what I've heard. However, it should have been with someone you love.'

A faint blush crept into Hermione's cheeks, and she averted her eyes once again. 'Who said it wasn't?'

Her voice was so low Harry almost didn't understand the words. A jolt went through his body as the meaning trickled in. He jerked upright in his seat and gaped at her with wide eyes. Sweet Merlin, what had he done to her? The weight of the guilt on his shoulders doubled.

Hermione gave him a quivering smile. By now her face was as red as a tomato. 'There's no need to look at me with so much horrified guilt, Harry. I always knew you didn't feel the same for me when we… After all, you were still in love with Ginny back then, and now you're saddled with Daphne for the rest of your life, no matter that you don't love her, so it's pretty obvious that never anything more will happen between us. It's all right, I've accepted that ever since you told me about the nature of the wedding vows you exchanged with Daphne. I gave up on you that moment.'

His face probably matched hers, it was so hot. Yet his eyes met hers fair and square. 'I'm so sorry, Hermione, you deserved more than I was willing to give you. You're right, I wasn't in love with you when I slept with you. I'm sorry.'

'I've gathered that much,' Hermione said with a bitter smile. 'If only you hadn't exchanged these unfortunate vows with Daphne, Harry! We could have been good together, I would have shown you what love means. I'm sorry you have to live in a loveless marriage. You deserve better.'

Harry's chest tightened, and he bit his lips. He hated to burst Hermione's bubble about Daphne and him, but he had to do it, or she'd never be able to move on. He cast a wary look at the wand that stuck out a few inches from Hermione's pocket. It seemed she'd recovered from her bout of magical incapacity just in time to hex him into the next millennium when he told her. He gulped; oh well, he deserved everything she'd throw at him.

'You're wrong, Hermione.'

A frown appeared on her face. 'What are you talking about?'

'I don't live in a loveless marriage.'

She opened her mouth. 'Harry -'

He held up a hand and interrupted her. 'I know you can't see past the way how Daphne and I got hitched, Hermione, even though I tried to tell you what Daphne means to me when we talked in that classroom the other day. My fault, I didn't know my own feelings back then. Now, however, I am sure. I love Daphne, she means everything to me. I'd be devastated if our friendship is damaged beyond repair by what happened between us, but I'd be downright desperate if I lost Daphne.'

Hermione blanched at his words and turned her head to the side. 'I see.' Her voice sounded choked, as if she had a cold. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and looked back at him. 'Does she love you as much as you love her?'

A broad smile appeared on Harry's face he couldn't contain, no matter how much he tried, and not even for Hermione's sake. 'She does.'

Some colour returned to Hermione's face. 'I'm happy to hear that,' she said, although the moisture gathering in her eyes told another story. She took a shuddering breath. 'Knowing that you're happy makes this much easier on me. Madam Pomfrey put me into contact with a Squib who is a Muggle psychotherapist, you know. I've seen her a couple of times already, right now we're still trying to find out the issues we have to address. You're one of them, I'm afraid.'

The ring around Harry's chest seemed to tighten even more. Merlin, he'd really done a number on her, hadn't he?

Hermione read his thoughts with the practise of long friendship. She gave him a rather watery smile. 'Don't look at me like that, Harry. I'm happy for you, I really am. I was out of my mind at the thought you'd have to live in a loveless relationship for the rest of your life on top of everything you've been through. This will help me move on, I'm sure of that.' She worried her lower lip between her teeth. 'Maybe this is all for the better.'

'What do you mean by that?'

She made a fluttering motion with her hand that included the whole apartment. 'This. You and Daphne, or rather, you being with someone who wasn't part of our group of friends during the last seven years. It gives you a fresh start, a new perspective. Maybe that's what we all need, someone by our side who isn't haunted by the same memories.'

Harry took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. 'I never thought of it that way, although I have to admit it makes sense.'

Again they fell silent. This time it was the comfortable silence between old friends who understand each other without words.

Hermione drained her cup, put it back onto the saucer, and got up. 'I have to go. The Transfiguration essay doesn't write itself.'

Harry also got to his feet, a soft smile playing around his lips. It was good to see some of the old Hermione. He put a tentative hand on her arm as she passed him on her way to the door. 'So, we're good?'

She looked up at him. 'I'll always be your friend, Harry.' She got on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, then slipped out of the apartment.

Harry raised his hand and touched the spot where her lips had touched him while he stared at the closed door for a long time after she was gone.

Daphne returned not even half an hour later.

Harry sat at his desk, the notes for his Transfiguration essay in front of him, and a quill poised over a sheet of parchment. He'd sat like that ever since Hermione had left, their talk playing in his mind over and over again.

'How did it go?' Daphne asked. She put her arms around him and gave him a quick peck on the lips, then slipped into the chair opposite of him and gave him an expectant look.

He startled. 'Uh?'

'With Hermione. Did you two come clear?'

With a sigh, he put the quill down and rubbed his face with both hands. There was no way he'd share the details of his talk to Hermione with his wife. That was something between Hermione and him, about a time when Daphne had not yet entered the picture. However, since the repercussions of his irresponsible choices impacted the relationship between his wife and his best friend until today, Daphne at least needed to know the outcome.

He lowered his hands. 'Yeah; we're fine.'

She gave him another expectant look.

He refused to meet her gaze, picked up the quill, and dipped it into the inkwell. Daphne's eyes still were on him as he wrote the date in the corner of the fresh roll of parchment in front of him. His cheeks burned, and he looked up. 'Look, Daphne, I will not discuss the details of my talk to Hermione with you. It was very private, and also very embarrassing, for both of us.'

'I imagine.' She tilted her head to the side. 'Are you happy with the outcome?'

Harry drew a deep breath. 'Yes, I am.'

Daphne's face brightened. 'That's enough for me.' She reached into the bookshelf next to her desk and drew out her Charms textbook. The next moment she immersed herself into the reading Professor Flitwick had assigned to them.

His gaze lingered on her blonde head bent over the book, and warmth permeated him. What had he done to deserve a women like her? Merlin knew she was much too understanding and willing to please him.

'I love you.'

Daphne looked up from her textbook and gave him a tender smile. 'I love you, too.'

September came to an end, and with that came the first hearings at court because of the Howlers they'd received during their honeymoon. Harry and Daphne wouldn't have spared another thought on that, the heavy workload of their N.E.W.T. year and their duties as head boy and head girl on top of that left them almost no free time.

Skeeter, however, brought the issue back to their minds with another critical article in The Daily Prophet that posed the hypocritical question if the Chosen One and his bride thought themselves above the magical population if Harry treated the well meant advice he'd got on the occasion of his ill-advised marriage to a dark witch with contempt.

'Well meant advise, my arse,' Ron said, folded the newspaper, and tossed it onto the table. 'As if Harry needed these morons to tell him what he should do.' He gave Harry a broad smile. 'Don't heed them, Daphne is the best thing that happened to you in a long time.'

'I won't,' Harry said, albeit he had a hard time to suppress the laughter in his voice. It seemed Ron had forgotten he'd been one of the morons who had given him unwanted advice when he and Daphne just got married. A low chuckle beside him showed that Daphne hadn't forgotten about the Howler his best friend had sent to him and found Ron's remark as funny as he did, and he didn't dare meet her eyes or he would lose it.

However, Ron's hostility against Daphne was water under the bridge; nowadays they were on a good way to become friends - at least as long as they didn't talk Quidditch.

Harry chuckled under his breath. Her marriage to Gryffindor's star seeker didn't deter Daphne one iota from her support of the Slytherin team, which led to a lot of hilarious duels with words between her and Ron that left the rest of their group in stitches. Even Hermione couldn't help but laugh until the tears ran down her cheeks whenever those two were at it.

She'd also given up on the last remains of her animosity against Daphne, much to the relief of all of their yearmates.

Life was good to him, he had a loving wife, loyal friends, his schooling went smooth, and then there was Quidditch.

He grimaced; too much Quidditch, if he was honest with himself.

Ron was as obsessed with winning the Quidditch cup as Oliver Wood had been in his time. Like Oliver, he scheduled more training sessions as the members of his team could stomach.

Even though Harry was on par with his homework and had excellent grades, he wished Ron would ease up somewhat. Five nights of practise a week didn't sound appealing if you had a beautiful wife you loved more than you were able to tell her waiting for your return. He would have skipped training at least once a week with a flimsy excuse and have spent his time with Daphne, if only she'd let him.

Daphne, however, determined not to be a clingy wife, shooed him onto the pitch whenever Ron scheduled an additional training.

The match Gryffindor against Slytherin opened the Quidditch season at Hogwarts on the second Saturday of October. Harry dressed into his Quidditch gear in their apartment and was about to leave for the traditional breakfast with his team when Daphne's voice held him back.

'Do you like my outfit?'

He looked over his shoulder.

She stood leaned against the doorframe of their bedroom, dressed in tight, faded jeans and a Slytherin green Quidditch jersey with her house emblem on the breast pocket.

'No, not particularly,' Harry scrunched up his nose.

Her eyes laughed at him. 'You haven't seen the best yet, love.' With that, she turned around. On her back were the letters "POTTER" and a bold number seven beneath them in Gryffindor gold.

Harry laughed out loud. 'Minx! Ron will have a coronary when he sees you.'

A devious smile appeared on her face. 'That's the plan.'

'Snake!' Harry shook his head, but laughed nevertheless.

She glided towards him with swaying hips, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply. 'For good luck.' She smiled at him when she released him.

Harry needed a few moments to gather his wits after that heated kiss. He looked down at his wife. 'Are you sure about that, kitty? Some might accuse you of purposefully confounding Gryffindor's star seeker with feminine wiles.'

Her laughter followed him out of the apartment. Still a broad smile on his face, Harry joined the Gryffindor team for breakfast.

Daphne entered the Great Hall not much later, together with the rest of their friends.

Ron looked up from his plate when Ernie, Terry and Neville shouted good luck wishes at him across the tables. He thanked them with a grin. The grin fell from his face, however, when he saw Daphne. He bent towards Harry. 'Mate, did you see what your wife's wearing? A Slytherin jersey.' He gave a visible shudder.

'Well, she is a Slytherin, after all,' Harry said, and bit on the inside of his cheeks as he helped himself to a second serving of scrambled eggs.

'She should have shown her support for her husband,' Ron said, a deep frown on his face.

Harry grinned at his best friend. 'She does, or haven't you seen the back of her jersey yet?' he asked around a mouthful of scrambled eggs and motioned with his fork towards the Hufflepuff table that housed their group of friends, as it had become a custom. Daphne sat with her back turned towards them, and the golden letters were hard to miss on the green fabric.

Ron shook his head. 'She might as well wear your Gryffindor jersey,' he said with an audible grumble.

Parvati had listened to their conversation from her place across the table and now gave Harry a wink. 'Oh, I don't think so. The bright Gryffindor scarlet will clash with Daphne's fair complexion. That green is much more suited to her.'

Harry returned Parvati's wink. 'I'm sure you have a point there, Parvati. I've learned the hard way never to question a witch's taste in colour or fashion,' he said with a straight face.

Ron gaped at them, his fork halfway between his plate and his mouth. 'You're mental, both of you.'

Their breakfast came to an end soon after that. Harry followed his team out of the Great Hall for their warm-up practise. They were just about to leave the castle, when the entrance door opened and two redheads stepped over the threshold.

Ron stopped in his tracks. 'Mum? Dad? What are you doing here?'

Mrs Weasley rushed towards her youngest son and enveloped him in one of her trademark hugs. 'Minerva invited us to sit with her in the teacher's box for your first game as captain. We're so proud of you, Ron!'

Her son escaped her hug rather red in the face, nevertheless with a pleased expression on his face, and turned towards his father.

The next moment Harry found himself crushed to Mrs Weasley's ample bosom, much to the amusement of the rest of their team. Hairs even messier than usual and his glasses askant he still tried to catch his breath when the door opened for a second time and a party of three entered the castle.

The hair of the woman in front was as red as Mrs Weasley's, and they shared the same plump figure. The newcomers stopped and stared at the Weasleys.

Harry's stomach gave a hard lurch, and he bit his lips. How would Mrs Weasley react to that unexpected encounter with her estranged sister?

Mrs Weasley took a few moments longer than him to notice the newcomers. She froze midway in fussing over him and gaped at her sister, an unreadable expression on her face. The next second her face hardened, she harrumphed and turned towards Ginny.

Ron gaped between his mother and Moira, his eyebrows creased into a deep frown. Didn't his best mate know his own aunt? That was a possibility, given that the estrangement between Mrs Weasley and Moira took place before Ron was born.

A shadow flickered across Moira Vaisey's face at the snub of her sister. It was gone the next instant, and she stepped towards Harry to greet him with a hug, a warm smile on her face. He also exchanged handshakes with Fabian and Aaron.

'We're here to watch my little brother's first game as a chaser for Slytherin,' Fabian said, and looked around in the Entrance Hall. 'Where is he?'

'As far away from here as possible.' Harry laughed. 'You should still remember that Slytherins and Gryffindors don't mix well, especially not when the houses are playing against each other.'

'Right.' Fabian joined his laughter and clapped him on the shoulder. 'See you on the pitch, Potter. May the best team win.'

'I never would've thought you'll root for Gryffindor one day,' Harry told him over his shoulder as he followed his team out of the castle, and got an incoherent splutter from Fabian Vaisey in return that was accompanied by the hearty laughter of his parents.

Not even twenty minutes later Harry listened to the stadium speaker announcing the Slytherin team.

'Pucey…! Davies…! Corner…! Warrington…! Montague…! Fawley…! Aaand… Quince!'

Harry frowned. Wasn't Gideon supposed to be one of the chasers? Why wasn't his name called? The stadium speaker left him no time to dwell on that thought.

'I'll give you now the Gryffindor team! Weasley! Peakes! Coote! Weasley! Robins! Creevey! Aaand… POTTER!'

He jumped on his broom and raced out onto the pitch. While Ron and Gervaise Pucey, the new Slytherin team captain and a relative of Adrian Pucey, shook hands, his eyes scanned the crowd.

The Weasleys sat next to Headmistress McGonagall in the teacher's box, their faces beaming with pride of their youngest son. The Vaiseys had sat down in the Slytherin stands, together with Daphne, who blew him a kiss and got mock-booed by the younger members of her house for that. Hermione, Neville and Dean sat in the Gryffindor stands, resplendent in blinding Gryffindor colours. Luna had joined them; her lion-hat had survived the war and let out a deafening roar now and then. The Macmillans and the Boots sat together in the Hufflepuff stands, both couples displaying their support for Gryffindor with bold red and golden scarfs.

Harry grinned to himself. It seemed his wife was in for a lot of teasing from their friends tonight, since he had no intention to lose that game.

Madam Hooch blew the whistle, and Harry took his place high above the pitch, on the lookout for the Snitch.

Ron's rigid practise over the last couple of weeks paid off, soon the Gryffindor team was in a solid lead, thanks to their magnificent chasers Ginny, Demelza, and Dennis Creevey, who had overcome their problems just in time for the game and played like a well-oiled goal machine. Harry watched the game from above, not yet fully committed to the search for the Snitch. He'd better give their chasers some more time to score, from long experience he knew that every point counted in the end.

He stirred his Firebolt Extreme into another lazy curve. The broom under him gave a sudden hard lurch, and he tightened his grip around the handle. The next moment the broom buckled like a bronco; for a long, agonising second it seemed he'd fall, and he clung to the broomstick with hands and knees.

Nobody noticed what happened to him, all eyes in the stadium were on the Gryffindor chasers, who'd just scored another goal, and the Gryffindors and their supporters screamed in triumph. Sweat pooled on Harry's forehead as he tried to hold himself on his jinxed broom.

How were the chances something like this happened twice to him? A grim smile appeared around his lips. Whoever was behind this was in for a surprise. This time he wasn't a scared to death firstie, he was an almost fully accomplished wizard who'd also come across a couple of useful spells that weren't taught at Hogwarts during his time on the run. Most important, he could do almost every spell without a wand which came in handy during a Quidditch game when the use of wands was prohibited.

His knees and left hand still firmly clutched to the broom, he lifted his right hand a few inches from the handle and cast a silent and wandless spherical shield around himself. It had the added advantage to be invisible, so whoever hexed his broom right now wouldn't know what was going on.

As expected, the buckling stopped in a heartbeat.

The grim smile around Harry's mouth deepened; that confirmed his suspicion about the reason for the broom reacting that strange: someone out there hexed his broom. Now he had to find that son of a bitch who did this to him among the spectators and deal with him. He cancelled the shield, and his broom buckled once again.

Harry's eyes searched the crowd in the Slytherin stands. He didn't need long to find his prey. Nott sat next to his wife, two rows beneath Daphne and the Vaiseys, and did - nothing. Neither had he fixed his eyes on Harry, nor did his lips move.

Harry let out an expletive. Either the bastard was innocent, or he once again had covered his tracks. His eyes scanned the stands. Nobody paid him heed, the attention was still on the chaser duels.

Nobody, except his wife. Her hand clamped to her mouth, her wide eyes stared up at him, full of fear, and she seemed to be about to spring to her feet and yell for help.

He shook his head at her and gave her a hard stare.

She sunk back into her seat and lowered her hand. The fear in her eyes gave way to fury as she glared icy blue daggers up at him.

A mirthless chuckle escaped Harry's mouth. It seemed his Slytherin wife was not at all impressed with his current show of Gryffindor bravery and daring. With no doubt he'd be in for a severe head washing as soon as they were alone. Oh well, he'd deal with that on its own time, right now he had an assassin to catch.

However, no matter how hard his eyes scanned the stands, none of the spectators showed the telltale sign of hexing his broom.

So, the assassin had hidden somewhere.

With another expletive, Harry raised the invisible spherical shield around himself once again with his right hand. So far, nobody down there had noticed what was going on with his broom. He'd better make sure to end the game asap and then find out who had been missing. His assassin most likely was among that group.

The buckling of the broom stopped as soon as the shield was up. Harry looked for the Snitch and found it within an instant, almost right below him, near the ground. He dipped the handle of his broom into a nosedive.

An uproar went through the stadium, overlaid by a shrill, female voice that was still audible through the sound of the wind rushing in his ears.

'HARRY!'

Daphne would kill him for this stunt, so much was sure.

The Snitch was a lazy one, it didn't catch on Harry's intention until it was too late. He straightened his broom in the last possible moment, stretched out his right arm and swept the Snitch from the spot where it was hovering close to the ground.

He held his fist with the Snitch up in triumph, brought his broom to a halt and jumped off. The next second Madam Hooch blew the whistle, and his team mates descended on him for a first impromptu celebration on the pitch.

The Slytherin team joined them and offered their congratulations. This was new, apparently their new captain was determined to show that even Slytherins were capable of sportsmanship.

Teachers, friends and family members who'd come to watch the game followed soon after.

Daphne was the first to reach him. She threw her arms around his neck and held him in a tight hug that almost suffocated him. 'You damned idiot,' she said into his ear. Her voice was barely audible over the cacophony of voices and laughter that surrounded them. 'I thought you would fall to your death when your broom buckled. And when you dipped into that nosedive, I thought you'd lost control.' She leaned back and gave his chest a hard slap with her hand. 'Do you have an idea what you did to me?' Her voice sounded hoarse, and even though she glared at him, her eyes shone much too bright.

He caught her hand in his and pressed a kiss into her palm. 'I'm sorry, love. We'll talk about this later, all right?'

She took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded, yet didn't let go of him.

The rest of their group of friends gathered around them, and Harry accepted the hugs of congratulation from Hermione, Luna, Morag and Lisa, and the slaps on the shoulders from Neville, Dean, Terry and Ernie. His mouth laughed and gave the appropriate responses, while his eyes searched for Headmistress McGonagall.

He found her in conversation with Ron, and he prised himself from his friends and walked towards her, Daphne still on his arm.

'Great catch, mate!' Ron slapped his shoulder. 'The Slytherin seeker didn't know what hit him.'

'Congratulations, Mr Potter. Although I hope next time, you'll catch the Snitch without giving me a heart attack,' Headmistress McGonagall said and shook his hand.

'I hear you there,' Daphne muttered under her breath, which got her a sympathetic smile from the stern headmistress.

Ron was called away, and Harry used the opportunity. 'There's something you need to know, Headmistress,' he said and cast a wandless Privacy Ward around them. With a few words he told her what had happened to his broom.

Professor McGonagall blanched and gripped with her hand at her chest. 'Dear me! I shudder to think what is next! I'll immediately inform the Aurors! They will want to interrogate the student body.'

She turned, as if to walk away and make good on her words, but Harry held her back. 'I don't think it's necessary to have another interrogation that soon after the last… incident. That will draw too much attention towards me, I'm afraid. I know that eye contact is essential to make that curse work, however, I didn't see the perpetrator among the spectators, which makes me think he hid under the stands.'

'Or she,' Daphne said.

Harry gave her a brief sidewards smile. 'Good point, love.' He turned back to Headmistress McGonagall. 'Maybe you can talk to the Heads of Houses who has been missing during the game. We can give that list to the Aurors, together with my report of what happened today. They can check this list against the list of suspects I gave them the other day and narrow it down to a few names and go on from there.'

The headmistress considered his words, then nodded. 'You made some good points, Harry. I'll talk to the heads immediately and get back to you. Right now, I hope this new incident doesn't keep you from enjoying your victory. It looks as if your classmates are planning something.' She pointed towards Terry Boot who gesticulated with his arms and shouted something.

Harry gave a somewhat strained laugh and dropped the Privacy Ward.

'Party in the seventh year common room,' Terry shouted over the hubbub.

'That's my cue.' Harry bent down to his wife and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. 'I'll pop into our apartment for a quick shower and change and meet you in the common room, all right?'

'I'm coming with you,' Daphne said. Her tone brooked no argument.

They didn't talk while they walked to their apartment, together with a throng of chatting students who made their way back into the castle. Back in their apartment, Harry hurried to get ready. When he walked out of their bedroom, his hair still damp from the shower and sticking out into all directions, Daphne sat in the chair next to the window, Miss Bennet on her lap. She looked out onto the grounds, a pensive expression on her face.

He slid on the armrest beside her, put his arms around her and kissed her. 'I'm proud of you, love.'

'Huh?' She looked up at him. 'Why's that?'

'You were the only one who noticed that something was amiss with my broom. It looked to me as if you would call for help, but when I warned you not to, you gave in without a fuss, although you were clearly not happy with my decision. I'm sure it went against all your instincts, and yet you let me handle the situation as I saw fit. I'm sorry for having put you through the wringer, love.'

She sighed and leaned her head against him. 'You're right, but I also promised you to hold it together until the worst was over, remember? I had no idea I had to act on my promise that soon. Serves me right for falling in love with a Gryffindork.'

He snorted at that. 'Yeah, who would've thought that Slytherin's Ice Queen had such a poor taste in men.'

That earned him a small slap on the wrist. 'Stop it, Potter. I happen to think my taste in men is excellent.'

They laughed together; even so, there was still a small trace of strain in her laughter that told him she was not yet over the fright he'd given her.

The party was already in full swing when they entered the common room. Loud music blared from the wireless in the corner, and their classmates had shoved the furniture in front of one of the fireplaces away for a makeshift dance floor. It was crowded, as was the whole room. Not only their classmates were celebrating, all upperclassmen of Gryffindor house and Slytherin house seemed to have found their way up to the seventh year's common room, and there were also a lot of blue trimmed and yellow trimmed robes in the crowd of partying students.

Harry scanned the room for familiar faces. The Boots and the Macmillans were on the dance floor, and so were Hermione and Ron. Dean and Luna had abandoned their group once again in favour of the company of Parvati, Seamus and Ginny. As usual nowadays, Ginny and Seamus were joined at the lips, while the other three did their best to ignore them. Neville and the other Hufflepuffs were sitting in one of the remaining groups of sofas and chairs and had a lively conversation going on by the looks of it. Justin had Susan on his lap; when he felt Harry's eyes on himself he looked up and gave him a small wave. The remaining Ravenclaws of their year stood near the makeshift bar, together with the members of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Everyone in their year was accounted for, except for the Notts. However, they never mingled with their classmates, and they weren't the ones who gave him headaches, either.

'Where is Tori and Gideon?'

Daphne gave him a sidewards glance. Her eyes were guarded. 'The Slytherin rumour mill says they had another spat right before the game. Gideon didn't show up, and Gervaise is not happy with him right now. Tori hides Merlin knows where since then and is probably bawling her eyes out. At least that how it seems. It might as well be a ruse.'

His head jerked around to her. 'Daph, you don't think -'

Her eyes flashed at him. 'Stop it, Harry. Everyone who wasn't at the game is a suspect, my little sister and her boyfriend included.' She pushed a strand of hair out of her face, and her shoulders slumped a little. 'However, there's no use in speculating right now. We'll know more when Headmistress McGonagall gets back at you with the list of students who weren't at the game.'

There was nothing to add. He put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the group around Neville.

McGonagall got back to him the next day. They had just returned from a Sunday afternoon visit with Andromeda and Teddy when a house elf clad in a tea towel with the Hogwarts crest on it popped up in their living room and handed a piece of parchment to Harry.

Harry thanked him, waited until the elf disappeared, and sat down on the sofa. Daphne snuggled up to him and read the list together with him.

Less than ten students had missed the game, Tori, Gideon, and a handful of fifth and fourth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Almost none of them had a dead cert alibi, except for Tori. She'd been at the library, together with Pansy Parkinson, according to Madam Pince.

Daphne let out a deep breath. 'Thank Merlin.'

Harry gave her a short hug. 'Yeah, although that doesn't make things better. You know that still leaves Gideon as one of our suspects.'

His wife bit her lips. 'I know. Tori will be devastated if it turns out to be him who -'

'There's still the possibility it was someone from outside of the school we haven't thought of yet.'

She gave him a look that clearly conveyed her disbelief. He sighed and once more concentrated on the list. Something about it was strange…

Then it hit him. 'What was Pansy doing in the library? She was at the game, together with Nott.'

Daphne jumped. 'You're right. She clung to him in the most disgusting way for the whole game. I think she did it to show off her conquest to make me jealous, you know. If ever!'

Harry leaned back into the sofa. 'So, someone used Polyjuice, either to impersonate the Pansy at the game, or the Pansy in the library. That supports our theory that Nott is behind everything, doesn't it? Pansy is his wife, after all. Do you think she supports his attempts of murder?'

'I hate to think that of her. Pansy's a bitch, but she was also my roommate. I don't want to think she's capable to aid the cold blooded murder of my husband.'

'I know, love.' He gave her another hug. 'However, as you said yesterday, everyone who wasn't at the game is a possible suspect. I guess the same is true for one Pansy too many.'

She worried her lower lip once more between her teeth. 'Let me talk to Tori first. Maybe she can shed some light on Pansy's behaviour.'

Daphne made good on her word. Instead of having breakfast with Harry on Monday morning, she went to the Great Hall to talk to Tori. During Transfiguration she shared what Tori had told her under a Privacy Ward Harry had cast while they practised advanced inanimate object to animal Transfiguration.

'Tori said she wasn't in the mood for Pansy's company yesterday, but Pansy wouldn't leave her alone.' Daphne flicked her wand at the desk they shared in the classroom. The desk transformed into a rosy pig that sniffed at Harry's backpack for something edible. Daphne regarded the pig with a frown on her face. 'It looks somehow wrong, doesn't it?'

Harry grinned and pointed towards the legs of the animal. It still sported the wooden legs of the desk.

Daphne huffed, directed her wand at the pig, and cancelled her spell. 'Your turn,' she said to Harry with a motion of her hand.

Harry gave a lazy flick of his wand, and the next moment a perfect, rosy pig galloped through the classroom.

'How did you do that?' Daphne gaped after the pig.

'Talent. What else did Tori tell you?'

That got him a snort from his wife. 'Pansy's behaviour was somehow weird. Tori said she looked as if she'd been on an addictive potion, with her eyes glazed over, and somehow out of it.'

A jolt went through Harry, and his jaw tightened. 'There's another explanation than potions for that kind of behaviour,' he said and cancelled the charm on his pig. The animal transformed back into a desk in mid-gallop, and the desk came to a slithering halt in the middle of the classroom, hitting Ron in the back and almost knocking him off his feet.

He turned to Harry, face red. 'Oi, mate, watch it!'

Neither Harry, nor Daphne paid him any heed. Daphne's face had lost all colour, and she stared at her husband with wide eyes. 'The Imperius Curse.' Her voice was almost inaudible.

Harry's mouth flattened into a grim line. 'Yeah, and if the Pansy in the library was the real article, she's as much Nott's victim as Richard Sprout was.'

There wasn't much else to do for Harry than writing a detailed report about the incident with his broom to Head Auror Robards that included Headmistress McGonagall's findings about the whereabouts of the students who didn't watch the game and hope the cross-referencing of that list with the list he gave him after the first attack would limit the suspects and exonerate Gideon. He also included a question after the results of the analyses of the blood samples the Aurors had taken.

Head Auror Robards answered almost immediately.

'He thanks us for informing him, reminds us we should leave the investigations to those who know how to do it, and is sorry to inform us that the results of the blood analyses will not be available before mid-November. Apparently, the analyses is complicated, and the Department of Mysteries is overwhelmed with the number of blood samples the Aurors sent them.'

Harry folded the letter and put it beside his plate. He and Daphne had skipped lunch in the Great Hall in favour for a private lunch in their apartment because they didn't want to wait until after classes to check their Banishing Box for a reply from Head Auror Robards.

Daphne scrunched up her nose. 'That's rich, isn't it?. The reminder not to stick your nose into that nasty business, I mean. After all, he had the gall to ask you to make yourself a target for the assassin.'

'Which I denied,' Harry said. 'Maybe he thinks I've lost the nerve to go after dark wizards. He wouldn't be so far off, you know.'

His wife gave him a blinding smile across the table. 'I'm happy to hear that.'

The remainder of October passed without another incident, and Halloween was upon them before they realised it.

This year Halloween was on a Saturday, and Headmistress McGonagall had scheduled a Hogsmeade weekend for that day. Harry and Daphne, along with the seventh year prefects, had to spend the day in the village to make sure the younger students behaved.

The young couple ambled down one side of Hogsmeade's main street. It was rather cold, the air smelled of snow, and despite the strong Warming Charms he'd cast on her, Daphne clung to Harry as closely as possible, while still complaining about the cold. Not that he minded.

However, they both were glad when they could return to the castle and warm up.

Harry wasn't looking forward to the feast. Halloween always had been a horrible day for him. As a young child he had to watch Dudley going out trick-or-treating, and feasting on his bounty later at night, while he was confined to his cupboard under the stairs. Later, at Hogwarts, nobody kept him from celebrating. However, the knowledge that this day also was the day that marked the deaths of his parents took the fun out of Halloween for him once and for all.

'You are awfully quiet,' his wife said as they got ready for the feast.

He gave her a thin smile. 'Halloween has always been tough.'

'I imagine.' She bit her lip. 'Why don't we stay in our apartment? I'm not looking forward to spending the night at the Slytherin table in Nott's and Pansy's company, either.'

He startled. 'Isn't attendance to the feast mandatory?'

Daphne shook her head. 'Not on the high feasts of the year, Yule, Imbolc, Ostara, Beltane, Litha, Lughnasadh, Mabon and Samhain.'

'Huh?'

'I forgot nobody ever taught you the old ways,' she said with a sigh. 'Many students still adhere to them, albeit Hogwarts under Dumbledore promoted the Muggle versions of the traditional holidays: Christmas instead of Yule, Easter instead of Ostara, and Halloween instead of Samhain. Yet, Headmaster Dumbledore couldn't forbid the students to celebrate the holidays in the traditional way, so, each year a few of us skipped the Halloween feast in order for our own celebrations.'

That caught his interest. 'Tell me more about that. How do you celebrate Hal…, no, Samhain?' He sat down on the edge of the bed and gave her an expectant look.

She sat down beside him and took his hand. 'Well, Samhain is one of the two spirit-nights each year, the other being Beltane. It is a magical interval when the mundane laws of time and space are temporarily suspended, and the Thin Veil between the worlds is lifted. Communicating with ancestors and departed loved ones is easy at this time, for they journey through this world on their way to the Summerlands.'

'The Summerlands?'

'Nirwana, paradise… take your pick, there are as many names for the afterlife as there are cultures in this world. We'd decorate a small altar and offer a prayer for our loved ones who already went on. We'd put a candle in the window so their spirits won't get lost in this darkest of nights and have a quiet meal of seasonal vegetables and pork or poultry. Sometimes, if the next day was a Sunday, we were allowed to visit the graves of our ancestors.'

Harry let out a deep sigh. 'That sounds lovely, much better than the boisterous feast in the Great Hall.'

She pressed his hand. 'Why don't we stay here and have our own celebration?'

His eyes went wide. 'Can we? What will McGonagall say? After all, we're head boy and head girl.'

Daphne ran her hand through his unruly locks. 'I'll explain to her tomorrow, I'm sure she'll understand you need a quiet time of remembrance after all the losses you've suffered and everything that happened during the war.' She got up and held out her hand to pull him up. 'Come on, love.'

He followed her into the living room. Together, they decorated a small altar with golden candles and bright orange pumpkins as symbols for Samhain. Daphne taught him a prayer she had learned from her grandmother to remember the deceased. After their small celebration they sat cross legged in front of the altar for a long time, watched the candles burning down, and talked in hushed voices about those they had lost.

Daphne remembered Tracey and her parents, and he opened to her about the deep hole the early loss of his parents seemed to have left in his soul, and the agony that had followed the deaths of Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore and Remus and Tonks.

It was cathartic to let it all out, and Harry didn't realise he was crying until a fat tear splashed on his hand. Silence descended upon them, and they held each other while they cried for those they had lost.

Harry was the first one to raise his head. 'There is more, it's about time you know everything about me, love.'

Daphne gave him a long, level look out of red-rimmed eyes. 'If you are ready for that, Harry.'

He took a deep breath. 'I am,' he said in a firm voice, got up to his feet and held his hand out to pull her up. 'Come on, love, I need a more comfortable place for what's coming than the floor.'

She put her hand in his and followed him to the sofa. Harry sat down and pulled her in his arms. Halting at first, then with more confidence with each word he told her what had happened on that fateful night seventeen years ago, and how it tied him to Tom Riddle until he died.

Daphne listened without interrupting him, albeit her cheeks became paler with each word. When he came to the part where he surrendered himself to Voldemort, it had a decidedly greenish hue. She pressed her hand in front of her mouth and gave a small whimper, while her eyes stared at him, wide with terror.

He pulled her closer and dropped a kiss in her hair. 'I'm still here, love, it all worked out in the end, and that's what counts.'

'Yeah, but at what price? You've been through so much, love, you've been denied the basic things each child should have, a secure home and the love of its parents, just to be sent to that monster like a sacrificial lamb.' Her eyes narrowed, and some colour returned into her cheeks. 'Too bad Dumbledore is dead, I'd like to give him a piece of my mind about how he treated you.'

Despite their somber mood a small chuckle escaped him. 'Well, according to you tonight your chances aren't bad, since the veil to the afterlife is at its thinnest.'

'Prat.' She gave him a small slap on the wrist, then cuddled deeper into his arms.

A huge weight fell from his heart like an avalanche. He'd opened to Daphne, and she hadn't condemned him. Quite the contrary, she'd been angry at Dumbledore on his behalf.

He raised her chin with one hand. 'I love you, Daphne Potter, and I'll be forever thankful for the fortuity that brought you into my life.'

t.b.c.