As ever, I'm playing in JKR's toybox. It's great fun! Sorry about the slow arrival of chapters – due to a bad bout of morning sickness. Please leave a review to let me know what you think! Thanks.

Despair

"In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow

And coughs when you would kiss."

 ~W.H. Auden: "As I Walked Out One Evening."

"You can't!" Harry said in total horror, looking at the familiar leather bound volume his wife had clutched in her grasp. "Please, Ginny; any spell but that one. Please?"

"But we know this one works," she insisted forcibly. "The others are all too risky." She shook her head, sending her russet hair flying. The rippling flames warned of danger, but Harry ignored it.

"Yes, but at what price?" Harry caught her in his arms and shook her gently. "I can't – I won't let you do it."

"It's not your decision," Ginny's tones escalated with emotion. She pulled herself free and looked directly up at him with an unwavering stare. "It's this one, Harry. It has to be." Echoes of the past burst through the barriers he'd tried to build up in his mind; the voices of his parents in their last moments rang as clearly as if there were a Dementor standing before him. His mum facing down Voldemort, refusing to step aside, knowing the charm was in place to save her son. Her life to save his. He saw the memory of a red-headed figure crumpling lifelessly to the floor as the flash of green light hit to the merciless peal of high-pitched laughter. Ginny. He couldn't let history repeat itself. He couldn't. "No!" His voice seemed to come from somewhere outside him as he moved towards her again, determined to stop this. "Absolutely not. Any other spell you want; use all of the others if you have to, just not…" His voice cracked.

"She's our daughter," Ginny pleaded, her dark eyes curiously liquid in the sunlight. With a jolt, Harry realised that she was close to tears. The hollow ache twisted in his heart: his wife, his daughter... How did Ginny expect him to be able to choose between them? He couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to either of them. If Voldemort attacked and she'd used the same spell that had saved his life when he'd been a baby, then… then… He swallowed; his throat bone dry.

"No," he repeated hoarsely.

"Harry," she cried, flicking through the pages until she came to the spell. "Look at it. It's just another spell, like any other. It's going to protect Hope, that's all."

"But it's not all, is it?" Harry demanded, catching her left hand in his. The silvery scar zigzagged its way across the inside of her wrist, a ghostly echo of his own scar binding them together magically for all eternity. Ginny glanced at it and looked up at him, bewildered. "The incantations in that book aren't your average spells, Ginny," he said quietly. "The power in them is immense, you know that as well as I do. You're talking about doing the brother of that charm you see right there, not one as simple as ours either, but the one that cost my mum her life."

"I know," Ginny squirmed slightly. "Harry, I wish there was another way…"

"There is," Harry said quietly, prising the book from her hand. "Let me do the spell."

There was silence. Ginny's eyes widened. Her breathing was clearly unsteady as she contemplated the idea, trembling beneath his touch.

"You can't do that," she choked at last.

"Why not?" Harry demanded. "Hope's my daughter too and I don't want anything happening to her any more than you do. If you're so sure that this is the best spell to use, then let me use it."

"So it's all right for you to protect her, but not me?" Ginny responded the hurt clearly evident in her voice.

"It's not that," Harry said, with a quick glance over to the cot where his daughter was still sleeping. He chewed his lip, wondering how he was going to explain this to Ginny. There was nothing else for it: he had to try. "Gin, you know Voldemort's after me anyway?" She nodded, her soft brown eyes growing darker with the haunted fear of what they both knew would come. "He's not after you. It's me, and maybe Hope, but we don't even know that for certain. If I'm in danger already and I can protect her with this charm, it's not making things any worse for me, but it makes everything a lot better for you and Hope. If you get involved, then you're putting yourself at risk for no reason."

"I'd hardly call Hope 'no reason'" Ginny murmured.

"She's the best reason there is," Harry admitted, "but all the same, there's no need for you to do this."

"I'm her Mum," Ginny pointed out, pacing restlessly over to the cot, and smiling wistfully down at her baby. Gently, she reached out and touched a feather-down tuft of Hope's bright red hair, a half-smile tugging at her lips. "I want to do it, Harry." She glanced over at him, and cut him off as he was beginning to object. "I know it doesn't make any sense, and it's probably a totally stupid thing to want to do, but you and I have always promised to face the future together, whatever it brings, and I feel the same with Hope. She's been part of me all this time, and I was protecting her inside me until yesterday. She's my baby, and I want to do everything in my power to make sure she's all right."

"I can understand that, but…" Harry began, moving quickly across the room until he was standing right beside them.

"But nothing," Ginny whispered, standing on tiptoes to brush his wayward black hair off his forehead. Gently she traced his scar, sending a shiver down his spine. "I've done it for you, now it's Hope's turn."

"I don't want you to…" Harry swallowed. There was no other way to say this. "I don't want you to die the way my mum did," he admitted, pulling her close to him. He could feel the thud of her heart beating slightly out of time with his own, so reassuring and yet reminding him that all this could be so easily lost.

"I don't want to either," Ginny said, grinning slightly at him. "Harry, we've got the charm bond. Never forget that. Supposing the worst does happen; what's to stop me deflecting the worst of Voldemort's spell onto you? We both know that works."

"I suppose so," Harry said slowly, not liking the idea any better. His mind ranged over the various possibilities. "Unless he's already broken the charm bond by killing me."

"If he's done that, I'd die fighting to save Hope anyway. There's no way he's going to lay so much as a finger on our daughter," Ginny said through gritted teeth, catching his hand in hers. "Please, Harry? Please?" Her chocolate-brown eyes lifted appealingly to his, unshed tears shining in the sunlight. He nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak. She gave a little muffled sob and flung her arms around him. He buried his head in the depths of her hair, holding her tightly and afraid to let her go.

Eventually they pulled apart, and Harry caressed her face gently, cupping it with the palm of his hand. He couldn't believe he was going to let her do this. A small voice in his mind was screaming wildly at him to stop her, but his words caught in the tightening knot in his throat.

Ginny gathered their sleeping daughter into her arms and settled comfortably in the armchair, the book propped open on the bed next to her. She gazed steadily at Harry for a moment or two, then with a loving kiss of her tiny daughter's forehead she carefully began to weave the spell that would protect Hope, whatever the cost to herself.

*****

A couple of mornings later, Harry was settled at a table in the hospital wing, frowning heavily over a complicated chart, trying to fathom what it all meant. Since Dumbledore had scared him so much on that first night he had been suffering from a slight throbbing in his scar. Harry had refused point blank to leave Ginny and Hope in the hospital wing just in case Voldemort did attack. Much to Madam Pomfrey's wrath he took up residence in the hospital wing, catnapping in the armchair whenever he could and spending a good part of each night relentlessly pacing the ward with a restless Hope.

His eagle-feather quill tickled the end his nose, making it twitch irritably. He looked up from his task, to see Ginny beginning to undress Hope for her bath.

"How's it going?" she asked him before bending down to coo at the baby again.

"Slowly," he said, feeling rather grumpy. "I hate doing these things. It's no wonder I used to make mine up."

"Birth charts aren't that bad," Ginny laughed, easing Hope's arm through her sleepsuit and fluttering kisses on her nose.

"This one is," Harry said fervently. "It's worse than mine."

"Nothing can be worse than yours," Ginny teased.

"Want to have a bet on that?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows. He watched her wrap Hope closely in a soft, fluffy towel and smiled. "Her birth chart is pretty dramatic, and everything seems to be swinging to one extreme or the other. If I've got it right, she looks like she's going to be quite a little character."

"Any sign of Truitinae Bonitas?" Ginny asked anxiously, peering at the parchment over his shoulder. She rubbed Hope's back in a soothing manner and rocked her slightly.

"I don't think so," Harry frowned, and pointed to one small section of the chart. "I thought that was it for a while, but it's not the same as mine, is it?" He hauled his own out of his school bag by his feet and unrolled it to let Ginny see. She studied the two carefully for a while and then shook her head.

"No, it's not," she agreed. Her lips spread into a wide grin. "That's some good news anyway. Maybe Voldemort won't be interested in Hope after all."

"He shouldn't be," Harry said, poring back over his daughter's chart again. "It means he'll be focused on me as the last of the Potter line." He shot a quick grin up at his wife. "No change there then."

"No," she agreed, ruffling his hair affectionately before she headed through to Madam Pomfrey's office to collect her mother for Hope's bath.

Harry was immensely grateful that Mrs Weasley was there during the daytime to help them so much with Hope. They were both learning a colossal amount about how to care for a baby and it was considerably harder than they had expected. No one had ever warned him just how tired caring for such a small baby would make him; they hadn't warned him about the nappies either, come to think of it. Harry wrinkled his nose at the memory, and made a mental note to find some effective air freshening spells as soon as he could.

He bent back over the chart and deciphered more of his daughter's personality. The splash of water in the background and outraged wails of protest informed him clearly that Hope was in the bath. Before he had a chance to look up, a section of the chart caught his eye and he burst out into fits of laughter.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, somewhat breathlessly.

"Something you'll never guess in a million years about your daughter," Harry chuckled. "She's apparently possessive and stubborn with a temper she's going to find difficult to control."

"A proper Weasley trait," Mrs Weasley chuckled, "just like someone else I could mention."

Ginny flushed, and then giggled herself. Hope squirmed more in her mother's grasp and both Ginny and Mrs Weasley turned back to the task in hand, gently washing Hope before lifting her out and patting her dry. Mrs Weasley left Ginny to dress Hope on her own, and took the dirty laundry away.

The Hospital Wing door clicked open and a set of footsteps down the length of the ward heralded the arrival of Professor McGonagall. Her sharp eyes scanned the screened off area and her normally stern face broke into a smile at the sight of little Hope. Ginny was struggling to fasten her nappy, but now that she was dry again, Hope had at least stopped crying.

"How are things?" Professor McGonagall asked briskly, sitting down on the end of the bed.

"We're all doing OK, thanks," Ginny said, turning slightly pink. "Stuck in here for ages yet, though," she added gloomily. She finally got the nappy on and began to dress Hope.

"Yes. I hear Mr Potter has taken up permanent residence here as well," Professor McGonagall added, staring sternly in Harry's direction. Harry gulped.

"I don't want them on their own," he explained uneasily. "You know, with Voldemort and everything."

"Quite," Professor McGonagall said abruptly. "Potter, I can understand your feelings but I think we need to reach some sort of a compromise. You've had a few days off from classes, which has been perfectly fair given recent events, but you do have your Wizarding Life Skills course left to complete."

"But…" Harry began. Professor McGonagall lifted her hand to silence him.

"Mrs Potter is excused from lessons until September," she explained clearly. "You are not. I shall, however, turn a blind eye to your absence in your dormitory overnight if you are present for all your classes during the day."

"It's Waste of… er… I mean, Wizarding Life Skills," Harry moaned. "I'm learning as much here as I would be in lessons. I hardly think Snape's going to teach me childcare, is he?"

"Professor Snape," Professor McGonagall corrected him automatically. Harry could see Ginny turning puce with trying not to laugh at the thought of Snape teaching lessons on how to change nappies. "No, I believe the current lessons are magical cookery; something your little family may find very useful once you move into a house of your own."

"It's a good point, Harry," Ginny broke into the conversation. "I haven't got a clue about how to cook anything except profiteroles."

"Profiteroles?" Harry echoed in amazement. That sounded more like something from one of Aunt Petunia's posh dinner parties than something he would have expected to find at The Burrow.

"Yeah," Ginny giggled, fastening the last of Hope's buttons. "I found the recipe in one of Mum's old Witch Weekly's, and I got her to teach me how to do them. That was years ago though."

"We could live on those," Harry laughed. "You never know; it might be rather nice. It's definitely worth a try."

"We'll starve if you don't learn how to cook," she teased, passing Hope to him for a while. "I know you don't want to leave here, but we do have to learn how to survive on our own. I'll show you the baby bits I've found out when you get back here at night."

"I suppose there's only another week or so," Harry said slowly, "and your Mum's here and so is Madam Pomfrey…"

"Exactly," Professor McGonagall said bracingly. She glanced at her watch and stood up. "I expect to hear you've been at lessons this afternoon, Potter." With a final smile down at the baby, she swept out of the room.

*****

The afternoon arrived far too quickly for Harry, and with a reluctant glance back over his shoulder at the two women in his life, he shouldered his school bag and trudged down the stairs into the thronging school halls. He pushed his way through the milling crowds of students, watching out for any sign of Ron and Hermione. He was acutely aware of heads turning to stare at him, fingers pointing and whispered muttering as he passed by. He fell the heat of the dull red flush of embarrassment spread up the back of his neck. Good news had evidently travelled fast.

Gritting his teeth, he ignored them all pointedly and wove his way through the throng to the stairwell, heading down the grand marble staircase towards the entrance hall. It felt distinctly odd to be here with school life rattling on as normal around him, yet knowing that Ginny and Hope were upstairs.

He was just about to turn into the passageway that led to the Hogwarts kitchens, when he heard a familiar drawling voice coming from behind him.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Potter's finally come out of hiding, has he?"

Harry whirled round and glared furiously at Draco Malfoy. That was all he needed. Absence definitely hadn't made the heart grow fonder as far as Malfoy was concerned.

"What was that?" Harry growled.

"I can't say I blame you for keeping things hidden," Malfoy said, beginning to smile maliciously. "After all if I'd been stupid enough to sleep with a Weasley, I wouldn't want anyone to know about it either. Can you imagine everyone knowing you were desperate enough to do that?"

"Don't you dare talk about Ginny like that," Harry spat, the white-hot anger surging though his veins. "She's everything you could only dream of being, Malfoy. Honest, good, kind…"

"Poor," Malfoy pointed out superciliously. "Oh yes. I suppose she's played you very cleverly." He gave a short laugh. "I suppose with that child of yours she's spawned, she's the only Weasley guaranteed of a secure financial future. I suppose there had to be some incentive for her to sleep with you." He looked Harry up and down with a sneering expression. "Although I wouldn't have thought even a Weasley would be that desperate."

The blood pounded violently in Harry's ears relentlessly beating time to Hermione's age old warning "Ig-NORE- him, ig-NORE- him…" His fists clenched tightly by his side as he shook with fury.

"Jealousy, is it, Malfoy?" he growled, keeping his voice as steady as he could. "I suppose even Crabbe and Goyle have turned you down. Moaning Myrtle might be glad to oblige, she's pretty desperate, but you'd have to be dead for that." He stared at Malfoy, hatred boiling in his heart. "That might easily be arranged."

"Idle threats, Potter," Malfoy scoffed. "With a bit of luck you might be able to brush that bastard of yours under the carpet and…"

Harry never found out quite what Malfoy had intended to say next. The insult to his daughter was more than he could bear, and before he knew what was happening his fist had made a satisfyingly painful thunk against Malfoy's jaw, knocking them both off balance and sending them sprawling to the floor.

"Never… never say that… about my wife… or daughter," Harry panted, doing his level best to pound the sneer off Malfoy's face and through the solid stone flooring into the dungeons beneath.

"Harry!"

Two pair of hands grabbed his robes and forcibly hauled him to his feet. Harry twisted frantically swinging against those who held him.

"He's not worth it, Harry," Hermione's voice pleaded. "Let it go."

"But he was saying… stuff… about Ginny… Hope," Harry gasped, struggling to fling himself at Malfoy again before he escaped completely. The blood was gushing from Malfoy's nose as Crabbe and Goyle helped him to his feet.

"Oh was he now," Ron's eyes narrowed and he let go of Harry's robes. He took a meaningful step towards Malfoy, his own face flushing angrily.

"Ron!" Hermione caught his arm. Harry saw the unspoken conversation between them.

"Yes," Malfoy sneered, his voice muffled by the large handkerchief he clutched to his bleeding nose. "Do as your girlfriend tells you, there's a good boy."

"Twenty points from Slytherin," Hermione said coldly. "You should know better than picking fights in the corridors by now, Malfoy. There's a lesson you should be going to."

Without another word, she turned and headed through the doors to the stone passageway that led to the Hogwarts kitchens. Harry and Ron followed her, not saying a word until the door had closed behind them.

"What did that complete and utter git say this time?" Ron burst out furiously.

"Same as usual," Harry mumbled rubbing his cheek, and feeling the tenderness of the bruise that was starting to form. "Decided to have a go at Ginny and Hope though."

"Well, you should have expected it," Hermione said bracingly, shaking her head. "We all know what he's like, and you can imagine what the school's been buzzing with these past few days. Some of the rumours have been incredible, you have no idea."

"I can imagine," Harry said with a shudder, knowing full well what sort of rumours had been spread about him in the past.

They rounded the corner and joined the rest of the Gryffindor seventh years, lined along the length of the wall beside the painting of the bowl of fruit. At the sight of Harry, they clustered around him in a babble of excited questions.

"So it is true," Parvati gasped, lifting Harry's left hand. His wedding ring glinted in the soft candelight of the passageway. Harry felt himself flushing.

"Yes," he admitted quietly. "I married Ginny in October."

"And a baby?" Lavender asked, eager for news.

"A baby girl. Hope," Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Oooh!" the girls said in delighted unison, suddenly dissolving into puddles of mush and bombarding him with hundreds of questions. Dean, Seamus and Neville grinned over at him.

"Good to have you back," Seamus muttered as the kitchen door swung open and Professor McGonagall ushered them through the doorway.

The kitchen contained some House Elves, who clustered around the door, bowing low as they entered, but there were nowhere near as many as there usually were in the kitchen. They had clearly been sent to perform tasks elsewhere to allow the lesson to progress. Harry felt Hermione tense beside him. Much as Dumbledore had tried, the House Elves at Hogwarts still refused to take pay or holidays, with the exception of Dobby and Winky and one or two others who had been clothed.

He followed Ron and Hermione to one of the smaller tables at the side of the room and listened to Professor McGonagall's introduction of a very nervous house elf. She stood on a stool, stammering slightly and relentlessly twisting her Hogwarts tea towel in her hands as she explained a few simple cookery spells to the assembled students.

"Well, how hard can that be?" Ron exclaimed once they were set onto the task of preparing a meal. "Mum does it all the time. Peel the potatoes, cook and mash them. What could possibly go wrong?"

"Do I need to remind you about what happened with that carrot last time?" Hermione teased, rolling her sleeves up and flexing her wand. She craned her neck at the rack of shining pots and pans above their heads and burst out laughing. "It's still up there!"

"No!" Ron exclaimed in total horror.

Harry chuckled to himself and offered to try his hand at the potatoes himself. He checked the spell book carefully and lifted his wand.

"Ablutum holus," he said, concentrating hard on the small pile of potatoes and willing them across to the sink. The potatoes shot off at top speed, zooming in a wall-of-death spectacular fashion around the walls of the kitchen, making a circuit of the enormous room. Once, twice, three times, past Neville's pile of tap dancing sprouts and finally dropped into the sink where they began to jump up and down vigorously washing themselves.

Harry took a deep breath. That wasn't so bad. He pointed his wand at a small knife on the bench and cringed slightly. "Delibrum holus," At once the potatoes leapt across the bench, twirling as they passed by the knife and shed their skins. A massive crashing noise caused Harry to lose his concentration, the potatoes cannoned into mid air and came zooming down again, pelting Ron from head to foot. A quick glance around the kitchen made him laugh. The same had obviously happened to the rest of the class: Dean Thomas was dripping from head to foot in gravy and Parvati was squealing as she ran away from a batch of energetic Yorkshire puddings.

Suddenly Harry hissed in a breath of pain and clapped his hand to his forehead, his scar burning more badly than it had done in a long time.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked quickly.

"Scar," Harry muttered, looking from her to Ron, his head pounding madly."Something's happening. That crash in the hallway. What was that? I knew I shouldn't have left Ginny and Hope. I knew it."

"Stay here, all of you," Professor McGonagall commanded crisply, and drawing her wand, she crossed through the remnants of the food towards the entrance.

The door to the kitchen crashed open, bouncing noisily against the wall. Screams of laughter turned to fearful silence fell as a small group of darkly cloaked and hooded figures advanced into the room, wands outstretched.