Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K.R.

Author's notes: A big thank you to Xavras, who took the time to beta this chapter, although he must have been tired and stressed out. You rock!

Any errors that remain are mine.

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12 Blessed

The next morning Daphne woke up to a kind of deja-vu: Winky squatted on the footrest of her bed, like the small creature had done so many times when she came to wake her and Harry in the morning, and make sure they would return to their dorms in time before Harry's roommates woke up and noticed his absence.

Daphne propped herself up on her elbows. 'Winky! What are you doing here?'

The house elf jumped on the floor and walked around the bed.

'Dobby tells Winky Mistress Daffy bes the family way. Winky bes a good house elf: Winky know her duty. Winky come take care of Mistress Daphne and little baby master or mistress.'

'That's very kind of you, Winky,' Daphne smiled. 'However, didn't Master Harry order you to stay at Hogwarts?'

Winky sniffed, then she gave Daphne a shrewd glance. 'Winky know Mistress Daffy do not tell Master Harry about little baby master. Master Harry tell Winky to look after Mistress Daffy when he is away.'

Daphne hardly suppressed a snort. She knew that house elves had their own way of checking their master's orders for loop-holes if they didn't agree with them. Winky's reasoning was just another proof for that. She cast the duvet to the side and began the difficult task to heave her very pregnant body out of the bed.

'I'm happy that you came, Winky. I'm sure Dipsy can need an additional hand as soon as the baby's born. It can happen anytime now.'

Winky beamed at her, and began airing the bed sheets, while Daphne waddled to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

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However, three more days passed, and the baby still showed no inclination to 'stick it's nose out of the door', as Tori had put it, rather indelicately, the night before. It wasn't Daphne's fault that Tori stood right beside the pool when she decided to be smart, and got a stinging hex from her big sister for her cheek. It also wasn't Daphne's fault that she lost her footing because of that.

'I'm so tired of being pregnant,' Daphne muttered to herself on the afternoon of the day before Harry's birthday. The South of France was hit by a heat wave, and with the pregnancy accelerating her metabolism, Daphne felt as if she was cooked alive. She had refused to wear proper robes that day, and dressed in the widest and thinnest chemise she owned all day long. When she appeared at the breakfast table in that scandalising state of undress, her mother had rolled her eyes, but let her have her way. After one look at her flushed and puffy face her father and grandfather exchanged a look, and wisely decided to keep their mouths shut. Tori had not been that smart, but a sluggish, yet strong piercing hex right to her buttocks had convinced her that sometimes discretion is the better part of valour, especially when you are dealing with a very moody witch in the last days of her pregnancy. Too bad she didn't stand next to the pool this time, Daphne thought as she put her wand away.

Daphne had hidden herself in her bedroom for the rest of the day, and checked the baby's things once again. When her mother came to look after her, she had her head stuck in the wardrobe and counted the number of diapers she had bought for the baby.

'Oh, it's you,' she said, straightening up. She put both hands in the small of her back and groaned. 'I swear, my back is killing me today. It feels as if I'm torn in halves.'

She didn't notice that her mother shared a meaningful look with Dipsy and Winky behind her back as she waddled to the door.

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Even though Barillet had prepared one of her favourites today - a casserole with mediterranean vegetables and herbs - she wasn't able to eat that night at dinner. Instead, she only sipped at her water, and waited until her family had finished their meal.

Finally, her mother gave Barillet the sign to get the plates to the kitchen.

With a relieved sigh, Daphne stemmed herself up from her chair. As she straightened, she felt a warm, wet torrent running down her legs, and splashing on the immaculate tiles of the terrace. She smelt ammonia and was mortified, because she thought she had soiled herself. The next moment a pain like she had never felt before drove all other thoughts out of her mind.

'Mum!' she cried, clutching the back of her chair with both hands to keep upright. It felt as if knives were stuck in her spine, and she had to think of Harry's memories of being tortured by the Dork Lord in the graveyard.

Isabella whirled around. Her gaze swept from Daphne's anxious face to the puddle at her feet.

'No need to panic,' she exclaimed, while she rushed to her daughter. 'It seems that your baby has finally decided to greet the world.' She slid her arm around Daphne's non existing waist and guided her to the door that led to the staircase. 'Dipsy, go and get the midwife. Winky, go up to Daphne's room and get everything ready.'

Two pops in short succession told Daphne that the two elves did as they had been told. She gasped for air as another wave of pain hit her.

Her mother's calm demeanor helped a lot to soothe her anxiety. However, there was no denying that the baby wanted out now, and that there was only one way for it to do so. Daphne had known before that this day would be hard and painful for her, but she had had no idea how hard and painful it was going to be.

As the sun set over the Mediterranean Sea in a stunning display of reds and golds, the intervals between the contractions became shorter, and the pain increased. Daphne had no eyes for the beauty of the sunset. She concentrated on the new life that was about to begin, and her world was reduced to counting while she tried to breathe away the pain of another contraction, and all too short moments of reprieve between the contractions. She had no idea that her carefully maintained Occlumency shields slowly, but steadily weakened while she needed all her energy to help her baby into the world.

She also had no idea that she subconsciously turned to Harry through their bond. He should be here with her, and share her joy about their baby being born soon. Instead, he was probably sound asleep at the Weasley's house, and had no idea that he was going to become a father within the next couple of hours. A tear trickled down her cheek. Damn, I need you, Harry, she thought.

While her mother massaged her back over and over again, she suddenly felt a wave of support from Harry coming through their bond. She clung to that feeling, and the pain became bearable. An unconscious part of her registered that he was confused and worried about what was going on with her, but the rapid contractions left her no time to dwell on that, or assure him that she was alright.

It was a relief when the midwife suggested she should take a bath to relax a little. In the warm water of the huge, ancient bathtub of the family bathroom the pain was bearable, even though Daphne soon realised that the quality of the contractions changed, and unconsciously she began to push. She hardly noticed that her mother and the midwife lifted her out of the water and helped her on her bed once again.

She had lost any control over her body: the baby wanted out now, and her body knew what had to be done. With each push her joyful anticipation grew. Only a few times more, and she would hold her baby in her arms, she thought, while she drew strength from the feeling of support a very confused and concerned Harry still sent through their bond.

However, even though she pushed hard, nothing happened. It was already way past midnight, and Daphne thought she must have pushed for hours by now. She was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep.

Her mother and the midwife retreated to a corner of the room and had a hushed conversation. Even though they had lowered their voices, Daphne was able to catch snippets.

'... probably wrong angle…'

'... will never get out naturally…'

' … vital signs rapidly decreasing…'

She noticed the look of worry her mother gave her, and a cold hand gripped around her heart. Something was wrong with her baby! Was she going to lose her child while giving birth? It not once occurred to her that she also was in a life-threatening condition. All that mattered to her was the safety of her baby.

A wave of panic washed over her, and she forgot everything about her breathing exercises. The next contraction overwhelmed her, and instead of going with the flow and pushing, she unconsciously stemmed against it. The pain was incredible, and she screamed, while her Occlumency shields shattered into nothingness.

'HARRY!'

She thought she heard someone gasp, but there was no time to find out who before the next contraction hit her. She clutched her huge belly that was as taught as a drumhead with both hands, and whispered to her baby. 'Hang on, little one. You and I are going to get through this. Don't give up!'

'Hang on, sweetheart. You and our baby can do this. Come on, little one; one more time and you can say hello to us,' she heard Harry's voice loud and clear in her head, while another wave of support from him gave her the strength to make it through the contraction. She let out a noise that was neither a laugh, nor a sob. Apparently her mother's tales had been right: women in labour sometimes had weird thoughts. There was no way she could have heard Harry.

The next second, she heard a soft 'pop', and then there was a faint wail, like the meow of a tiny cat.

Daphne stared at the reddish pink bundle of flesh on her belly that was covered in slime and grease. Her hands instinctively wrapped around it and cradled it to her breasts, while she cried and laughed.

Her mother and the midwife rushed over to her, gaping at mother and child.

'Sweet Morgana!' her mother exclaimed, while the midwife said, 'I've never witnessed a magical baby in dire straits apparating out of the mother's womb by accidental magic. I've heard stories, 'course, but always thought they were legends. This little one surely is going to be very powerful one day!' She raised her wand and cast a few diagnostic spells on mother and child. Then she smiled. 'You're both fine. It's a girl, by the way.'

Daphne didn't pay her any heed. Her whole being was focussed on the tiny human in her arms. Her daughter had her eyes closed, and still wailed softly in her mother's arms. Daphne dropped a kiss on the baby's head. 'Welcome to the world, my precious one.'

Again, she thought she heard Harry's voice in her head. 'She's beautiful! I love both of you so much!' Of course, she was still hallucinating, Daphne thought. There was no way Harry could talk to her through their bond, no matter how much she wished that to be possible. Never before she had missed him so much as today. A warm feeling reached her through their bond, as if she was enveloped by him, and she smiled.

She hardly noticed that her mother took the baby from her to give her daughter her first bath, while the midwife tended to her. She was as tired as never before in her life, and barely managed to keep her eyes open.

Finally, her mother put the baby back into her arms.

'How are you going to name her?' she asked.

'Theodora Harriet,' Daphne answered without hesitation. She had thought long and hard about the name of her baby in the last weeks, and her mind was made up.

Isabella raised her eyebrows. 'Why these two names?'

'Theodora to honour Theodore, obviously,' Daphne replied, mindful of the midwife who was listening to their conversation. 'But it's also a Greek name and fits with the Greengrass tradition to give the firstborn child a Greek name. Lastly, it means "gift of god", and that's exactly what this little one means to me.' She dropped a kiss on the downy head of her daughter.

Isabella smiled. 'You made a very good choice, sweetie. But why Harriet?' She winked at Daphne, obviously knowing the real reason why she chose that name, but also curious about the explanation Daphne was going to give for her choice.

The look Daphne gave her was full of mock innocence. 'Well, I thought we should also honour grandmother. Her second name was Harriet, wasn't it? I wasn't so fond of Wilhelmina, so I went with the second name.'

Her mother laughed and gave her an appreciative wink. 'I like it. Though, Theodora Harriet is a rather pretentious name for such a tiny human. I think I'll call her Rory.''

'Harriet? Really?' Daphne thought she heard Harry chuckle through their bond. 'Let's hope our daughter won't hate you for that one day. Though I like Theodora. It's a beautiful name. But your mother's right; Rory's more fitting for a baby.'

Daphne smiled, cradling her daughter. Though it wasn't real, of course, it was nice to think that Harry approved her choice and teased her about naming the baby after him. She had wanted so badly to give her daughter a connection to her real father, in case she would be forced to marry Theodore, and Harry… She gulped, not able to finish that thought, while a tear trickled down her cheek, onto little Rory's downy head.

Again, a feeling of warmth reached her through their bond. Basking in Harry's love, Daphne finally gave in to the irresistible urge to sleep, her daughter in her arms.

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She woke up from a soft wail. The candles were still burning, and no light fell through the curtains into her room. But the first birdsong could be heard from the thick mediterranean shrubbery that covered the hills behind the house, telling Daphne that it was very early in the morning.

Her mother stood beside her, the baby in her arms. 'Someone's very hungry,' Isabella smiled.

Daphne reached out for her daughter and put her to her breast, slightly shocked by the greed the tiny bundle displayed as it latched onto the nipple and started sucking. She tickled the soft baby cheek with one finger. 'You're as greedy as your Aunt Tori, little one. I'm sure you've inherited that trait from her. Neither I, nor your dad are like that.'

Her mother chuckled to that. 'You have a point there, sweetie, but I'd suggest never to repeat that in front of your sister, or we'll never hear the end of it.'

Daphne joined her laughter, but winced. 'Ouch, that hurts.'

'I imagine,' her mother nodded. 'You'll need some time to recover. Giving birth is hard work.'

'No kidding,' Daphne agreed, her eyes never straying from her daughter's tiny face. The leaden exhaustion that had overwhelmed her in the night was gone. Though she still felt weak, she was at least awake enough to get acquainted with her daughter. She marvelled at the tiny, yet perfect fingers that kneaded her breast. The baby had its eyes closed, fully concentrated on the most important task in its young life, but Daphne could see incredible long, golden eyelashes. Theodora's skin was very light, with a pinkish undertone, and her head was covered with white, downy hair.

'She looks like you on the day you were born,' her mother's soft voice interrupted her admiration of her newborn daughter. 'She also has blue eyes, though that might change as she grows older. After all, all babies are born with blueish eyes.'

Daphne nodded to that, not bothering to hide her relief. During the long months of her pregnancy she had worried that her baby was going to be the spitting image of Harry, thus giving away her carefully guarded secret. There was no way she would have been able to pawn off a little Harry clone as a child of Theodore and her, had it come to the worst.

'Maybe the next one will look like Harry,' she thought, thinking of the dream she had had the day she returned home. A warm feeling reached her through their bond, a sure sign that Harry was thinking of her, and she imagined she heard him chuckle. But of course that was only wishful thinking, she chided herself while she helped her daughter finding her other breast.

'I'll get you something to eat. You must be starved, I imagine,' her mother said, and walked to the door. 'After that, I'll help you to clean up. You should get up as soon as possible. Maybe you'll be able to join us for dinner tonight.'

The door clicked shut behind her, and Daphne was left alone with her daughter. The feeling of warmth Harry sent to her stayed, and she spend a wonderful time mentally cuddling with her secret husband while feeding their daughter, until her mother returned with the breakfast tray.

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In the afternoon, she got a visit from her father, her grandfather and Tori.

'She looks like you, Cinderella,' her father said as he held his granddaughter in his arms for the first time. The adoring look he gave the baby made Daphne chuckle. Her father had been less than happy with her pregnancy and her secret marriage to Harry, but his reservations dissolved into nothingness the moment he saw his granddaughter. It was safe to assume that Theodora Harriet had her grandfather wrapped around her tiny finger the moment he saw her, Daphne grinned to herself, as she watched her father cooing to the baby.

Grandfather Albion, on the other hand, had been delighted at the prospect of becoming a great-grandfather right from the beginning, and wholeheartedly approved of her relationship with Harry.

'I wish Fleamont and Euphemia were still with us and could see their great-granddaughter,' he said while he tickled the baby's cheek with one finger. 'They'd be over the moon.' His eyes looked as if he were far away in the past.

Isabella gave her father-in-law an indulgent smile. 'Maybe they know what's happening here, wherever they are, and celebrate with us today.'

'That's a nice thought,' Grandfather Albion agreed, and stepped to the side to let Astoria have a look at her brand new niece.

Daphne thought she saw a frown on her sister's face as she looked from her grandfather to their mother and back, but it was gone when Tori looked at little Rory.

'Welcome to the world, Theodora Harriet Nott,' she cooed, kissing the baby's head.

Daphne forgot everything about the strange expression on Tori's face as she startled. Of course Tori was right: she was under an active betrothal contract with Theodore, and that meant in the magical world that any child that was born during the duration of that contract was legally his and entitled to use the Nott family name. That thought had never entered her mind; to her, the baby had always been the next Potter heir. But, of course, Harry had to overcome that monster first before their daughter could take up her rightful title…

She let out an inaudible sigh while she watched how her family fawned over her daughter. Merlin knew when that day would come, she thought. Tomorrow would not be too soon for her, but judging by the lines of worry on her father's face that became deeper with each day that passed they would have to wait a long time for that happy day.

She was thankful when the visit of her family was over. Though she wouldn't admit it, she still felt weak and tired, and took another nap, little Rory in her arms, as soon as the door closed behind them.

'I'd rather stay in my room and have some sandwiches,' she told her mother as it was time to go down for dinner.

Isabella nodded her consent. 'I'll send Dipsy with a tray,' she promised. 'You still look pale and worn. Probably tonight is too early to join us.'

Her mother left her room to have dinner with the rest of the family, though she promised to return later at night and sleep on a cot in Daphne's room, so that she was there to help her with little Rory as long as Daphne still was weak and tired from her labours. Moments later Dipsy brought her a tray with a delicious smelling plate of pot roast and vegetables, and then left. Daphne was thankful for the alone time with her baby. During the day, there had been always someone around her, or she had napped. There had been no time to relax and think about her new situation, not to mention that she had had precious little opportunity to communicate with Harry.

Today was his seventeenth birthday, an important date in the magical world. She wondered what he was doing right now. Concentrating on him, she got glimpses of a birthday dinner in the garden of the Weasley home. She was thankful for the affection that family gave him, even though she couldn't help to wish he was with her right now.

A soft wail from her daughter brought her back to her room. She pushed away her half emptied plate and took care of Rory's needs. As she settled down with her daughter at her breast, she again pulled her plate towards her, since she was still hungry. Of course, everything had gone cold while she changed Rory's nappies, and she had to cast a warming charm on the remains of her dinner. With a chuckle, she resigned herself to a lot of interrupted meals, cups of cold tea, and short nights in her immediate future.

She and Rory were still enjoying their dinner when a feeling of annoyance from Harry assaulted her through their bond. She put her fork back on the plate and concentrated on Harry, while she cradled her daughter closer to her chest.

She got glimpses of a shabby living room, and Harry, Granger and the Weasel sitting in front of Minister for Magic Scrimgeour. With growing incredulity she listened to the list of things Dumbledore had left in his will to Harry, Granger and the Weasel, and huffed. So, the old man was still scheming, even out of the grave. Judging by the expression on the faces of Harry's friends, and the feelings of confusion she received from him, neither of them had an idea what to do with the things Dumbledore had left to them, although it was plain to them that they must somehow relate to Harry's mysterious quest.

Rory was finished with her meal, and Daphne put her back in her basket while she thought about the possible implications of Dumbledore's strange will. How did the Sword of Gryffindor, a book of children's fairy tales and a magical gadget relate to the mysterious Horcruxes Harry was supposed to find and destroy? She wracked her brain, but finally had to admit that she had too little information to work with. Damn Dumbledore and his secretiveness!

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The next day she was able to leave her room and sit in the garden. The elves had put up a sunchair for her in the shade of the small grove of pine trees, and she enjoyed the summer day, Rory's basket by her side, and listening to the song of the cicadas in the trees. All during the day she would get glimpses of the preparations for the Weasley wedding through Harry's eyes. No matter how much work Mrs Weasley heaped on him, Harry took the time to send her his love through their bond almost constantly, and the rosy glow on her cheeks was not only due to the warmth of the day.

She laughed out loud as she saw Harry staring at his reflection in the mirror after he had taken the Polyjuice Potion that turned him into "Cousin Barney". He looked hilarious with the red hair. Her laughter got even harder when he actually reciprocated with a feeling of mock offense to her amusement.

However, she couldn't help herself to feel a pang of jealousy as she watched the wedding ceremony through Harry's eyes. A wistful sigh escaped her mouth as she imagined the look on Harry's face if she was the one walking towards him on her father's arm, dressed in a brides gown much alike to the one Fleur wore.

A soft wail from the basket beside her brought her back to reality. With Winky's help, she changed Rory's diapers, and then fed her daughter. Caring for Rory kept her occupied, and she listened with only half an ear into the conversation between Harry and Elphias Dodge, and the old hag Muriel Prewett butting in. She sighed as she noticed Harry's surprise and shock at Muriel's revelations. He was still so naïve on many levels. Of course the Dumbledores had a skeleton or two in their closet: every old family had. The Greengrass' were no exception to that, and it was probably a safe bet to assume that the Potters also had their share of carefully kept dirty secrets. She recalled her father telling her mother about an article that horrid Skeeter woman had written about Dumbledore, and that apparently kicked up a lot of dust in the magical world. She hadn't really listened to their talk back then; the upcoming birth and her worries about Harry had been more important to her than the gossip coated as news Skeeter wrote.

Little Rory in her arms, she ambled to the terrace to have dinner with her family, while Winky followed with the basket. Even though she had not yet lost the weight she had gained through her pregnancy, and her joints still hurt from the contractions, she felt as light as a feather, and was glad that she was finally able to walk instead to waddle.

She also enjoyed to be able to eat a full meal, instead of feeling overstuffed after only a few bites, and inevitably becoming hungry again only a short while later.

Of course, Rory, sleeping peacefully in her basket, was the center of attraction for her family during the meal. Her father and Grandfather Albion couldn't hide their infatuation with the baby: at every tiny noise that came from Rory they would crane their necks, peek into the basket, and smile.

The three Greengrass women shared amused smiles over the antics of the two men.

'I knew they were going to have it bad, but I had no idea how it would be,' Tori whispered to Daphne.

Daphne agreed with a chuckle. Her amusement was cut short when a wave of terror overwhelmed her. She gasped, and her fork and knife fell down on her plate with a loud clang as she witnessed through their bond how a silver lynx appeared in the garden of The Burrow.

'What's the matter, sweetie?' her mother asked, while her father and grandfather whipped their heads around and stared at her.

'The ministry has fallen. Minister Scrimgeour is dead,' she repeated the words of the Patronus. Her voice sounded strange in her ears, as if it didn't belong to her.

Her mother gasped, but her father gave her grandfather a grim look. 'That was bound to happen any day,' he said, his lips thin and white.

Tori looked from her father and grandfather to Daphne. 'What's going on here? Is Daphne suddenly a seer, or what?' she demanded to know.

Neither Daphne, nor her parents or her grandfather heeded her question.

Daphne concentrated on Harry, and the pictures of the wedding party in upheaval she received through their bond. Her heart hammered in her chest. Would he be able to escape before the wards around The Burrow collapsed entirely? She didn't realise that her hands clutched at the edge of the table until her knuckles stood out white, while she stared unfocused ahead, mentally screaming at Harry to get out of there, NOW!

'Daphne!' Tori exclaimed again, but Daphne didn't react, though an unconscious part of her registered that her mother stepped to her younger sister, put an arm around her shoulder, and told her not to interrupt Daphne's concentration.

Through their bond, Daphne felt how Granger apparated Harry and Ron out of the trap that threatened to close around them. She slumped back into her chair, and let out a deep sigh.

'The Death Eaters attacked the Weasley wedding. Harry's safe - for the time being,' she informed her family, completely forgetting that Tori wasn't in on her secret. 'One of their friends was able to inform them just in time, and they apparated to safety.'

'What has happened?' her father asked.

'I don't know any more than I already told you,' Daphne replied, and raised her glass of water to her lips. She felt as parched as if she had run for miles, and took a deep gulp. Putting the glass back onto the table, she probed for Harry's whereabouts. He was still in England, she decided, but not in Devon anymore. She got glimpses of a busy road, and concluded that Granger must have apparated them to Muggle London.

Harry was still on high alert, and as always in that situation, his occlumency shields weren't strong enough to keep her out. However, this time he probably let her in intentionally, to ease her worries, she decided as she listened to Granger enlisting the preparations she had made, in case the three friends should be forced to go on the run. She couldn't help but being impressed with the girl - and thankful that she was such a good friend to Harry. Though she loved Harry with everything she had, she didn't delude herself about his practical abilities, and she knew that he was in many ways as helpless and naïve as their newborn daughter, thanks to the way he had been neglected since the day his parents died. Neither his horrible relatives, nor Dumbledore had thought it necessary to teach him the many things about leading an adult life every child sucked up by simply watching their parents and getting their questions answered. She knew she had her work cut out for her in teaching him about the many things he had no clue about as soon as the war was over.

She listened only with half an ear as Tori demanded explanations for her behaviour from their parents, while she concentrated on Harry. He still let her see what he was doing, and she followed him into a rather dingy café. Daphne shuddered; something about that place gave her the creeps.

Part of her registered that her parents took Tori aside and talked to her softly, while Tori kept sending her hurt looks. There would be time to deal with Tori's feelings later. Now she had to find out what Harry's next moves would be, and maybe find a way to help him.

For a second, her concentration had wavered off Harry, and so she was caught by terrified surprise as he brandished his wand and traded jinxes with two burly workmen that had appeared in the café. Again, she let out a loud gasp that claimed the attention of her parents and grandfather. They watched her with concerned eyes, but were smart enough not to interrupt her concentration.

Her heart raced, and her hands became clammy as she watched the fight. The three friends were barely able to hold up against two fully trained, ruthless Death Eaters. She could feel Harry's terror about their sudden appearance as if it was her own, but he didn't allow himself to be incapacitated by that. Neither did Granger, nor the Weasel, she noticed with growing admiration and awe. Together, the friends were able to overcome the Death Eaters, and she almost applauded aloud when Granger obliterated the memory of that encounter from their brains. For the first time she understood why Harry trusted his friends so much: the three made an impressive team, and were probably able to understand each other blindfolded and gagged.

She slumped back in her seat and sighed, wiping her forehead with one hand. It was damp with cold perspiration.

'Is Harry alright? What's happened?' her mother's anxious voice demanded her attention, while she still tried to get her racing heart under control.

She gave her family a shaky smile. 'There was a Death Eater attack on Harry and his friends in a café in Muggle London,' she explained with more calm than she felt about it. 'I don't understand how they found them that fast. Granger had apparated them from the Weasley house to that Muggle area: no one could possibly know that they were there. They barely managed to fight them off.'

She could see on the faces of her parents and grandfather that they found that as disconcerting as she did.

'Are they safe now?' her grandfather asked.

Daphne nodded as she stood up from her chair, not able to talk anymore. She stepped to the baby basket and took her sleeping daughter in her arms. Cradling the little bundle close to her chest for comfort, she felt how the terror slowly ebbed away, though her concern for Harry didn't wane.

'They went to a safe house. It's under a Fidelius Charm. They should be safe there for the time being - at least I hope so,' she added in a small voice. From the glimpses she caught from Harry and his memories she knew they were in his godfather's house. She knew how much Harry hated the place, and that the memories of Sirius and the blame he still felt over his death must haunt Harry every second he had to spend in that house. On top of that all she could feel the pain of another vision from Voldemort assaulting Harry.

Not again! she screamed inwardly. She gathered herself, reinforcing her Occlumency shields as she did so, and fighting off the pain and anger she received from Harry as he discussed, seemingly endlessly, with Granger and the Weasel. She wouldn't be of any use for Harry if she fell apart, and he had to deal with her overspilling feelings on top of the attack from Voldemort, she reminded herself. She was only faintly aware of the quiet talk between her parents and her grandfather while she concentrated on supporting Harry in his fight against the vision through their bond.

He excused himself from his friends and retreated to the bathroom. She felt his revulsion as she watched through his mind how Voldemort tortured one of the Death Eaters who attacked Harry and his friends at the café. She raised her Occlumency shields yet another notch, while the cool and observing part of her brain tried to analyse how the connection between Harry and the Dork Lord worked. There was no way she would allow the monster to overcome Harry's mind without her fighting him at every step.

From the feelings she received from Harry, she had not the impression that he was consumed by the vision: he was still able to keep himself and his feelings apart from the Dork Lord. To her, Harry' vision felt as if he was looking through a window at the monster, while the Dork Lord was obviously clueless that he was being watched.

Now, that was interesting, she thought as she send comforting vibes to Harry, who was completely exhausted by the horrors he had just been through. If Harry's mind wasn't affected by the visions, and if the Dork Lord didn't realise that he had a spy in his mind, was there a way to use the connection against him?

t.b.c.