Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K.R.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. This chapter isn't betaed, I just ran a grammar, spelling, and style check, so please, have mercy with my errors.

11

November came with the first snow of the winter. When Harry looked out of the window the next morning, snow covered the grounds of the castle with a thick, white blanket.

He and Daphne spent the morning visiting the graves of their loved ones. The last stop was at the graves of Harry's parents.

'Mum, dad, this is my wife, Daphne,' he said, and cast her a quick side glance. Did she think him foolish that he talked to the dead?

She looked up at him, a warm smile on her face. 'I'm happy you finally brought me to meet your parents. I'm sure they can see us wherever they are now.' She drew out her wand and Conjured two bouquets of red lilies she handed to him to put on the graves.

They stood in front of the graves for a long time, until he Apparated them away to London, where they had a light lunch at their house and then visited with Teddy and Andromeda, who was in a rather sad mood.

'Sorry, I somehow can't stop crying today,' she said. 'Teddy and I visited the graves of Dora and Remus this morning.'

Daphne gave her a hug. 'There's nothing to be sorry for, Andy. Why don't you take some time for yourself while Harry and I take care of Teddy?'

Andy replied with a watery smile. 'Thank you, Daphne. I'd love to have some alone time, that's scarce nowadays.'

'I imagine.' Daphne looked at the little boy who played with Harry on a blanket in front of the fireplace, and her face grew soft.

'He's what keeps me going.' Andy dabbed her eyes. 'Are you sure you and Harry don't mind watching Teddy until I get a grip on myself?'

'Yes, I am,' Daphne said. 'Go for a walk, take a nap… Whatever you need. Teddy will be alright.' She made a shooing motion to the door.

Andy gave her a hug in thanks and slipped out of the room.

Daphne laid down on the blanket next to Teddy, and she and Harry exchanged a smile over the head of the infant.

At six and a half months, Teddy had already found out how to turn himself from his back onto his tummy and back again and made good use of it. Recently it had also dawned on him that a forward motion might be possible, although he had not yet an idea how to accomplish that feat.

Harry and Daphne watched how he stuck his little nappy-bum into the air. He seemed to know he had to do something with his legs and arms, but what? His forehead in deep, sorrowful creases, he wriggled with his arms and legs - and fell on his face, his tiny nose burrowed in the soft quilt that was his playground.

'Ooiii!'

'I had no idea someone that small could sound that irritated,' Harry said and picked his godson up. 'Use your arms and legs to support yourself, little man.'

'I suppose that's easier said than done when you're six months old.' Daphne tickled Teddy's tummy.

Teddy agreed with a delighted giggle and changed his hair from black to a light blonde.

Harry's heart made a leap, and his breath caught in his throat. The little boy looked exactly like he imagined his and Daphne's baby would look. He cast a surreptitious look at his wife, who was still fooling around with a giggling Teddy. When would they be starting their family?

As if she sensed his eyes on her, she turned her head and gave him a smile full of understanding.

The quiet Samhain weekend was a welcomed break in their crammed life. As if their N.E.W.T. year wasn't already enough, the trial against Skeeter and The Daily Prophet coming up at the end of the week raised its ugly head.

'If only it were already over,' Daphne said to Harry in a low voice on their way from the greenhouses to the Great Hall. 'I still think we need to put Skeeter in her place, but that doesn't mean I'm looking forward to spending a day in court with her.' She adjusted the straps of her heavy school bag on her shoulder.

'I hear you there, love.' Harry held the massive oak door to the castle open for her. 'Though, there's a bright side. I've already talked to Headmistress McGonagall. The trial is on Friday, and she said she doesn't need us at the castle afterwards, so -'

He never finished his sentence, Daphne's school bag chose that moment to split up at the seams and spill its contents on the floor of the entrance hall.

'Drat!' Daphne crouched down to gather her belongings.

Harry followed suit. 'It's a good thing you cast Unbreakable Charms on your ink pots, or Filch would scream for your head right now for besmirching his clean floors. He almost bit my head off once when I carried mud into the castle.' He took the broken bag from her shoulder, flicked his wand, and cast a strong 'Reparo' at the split seam.

The seam mended itself, albeit it looked rather weak.

Harry gave it a doubtful glance. 'It seems Household Charms still aren't my strong point, kitty. I guess we must stay in London for the weekend and buy a new bag for you.'

Daphne let out a whoop of delight. 'Will we? That's wonderful.' She got up, took his arm and snuggled against him as they walked into the Great Hall, the small inconvenience of her broken bag already forgotten.

Friday and the day of the trial was upon them before they knew. While Hogwarts, safely hidden from prying Muggle eyes in the seclusion of the Scottish Highlands, still looked like a winter wonderland, London, suffering from the drab and soggy Atlantic winter, almost drowned in rain.

Harry and Daphne had asked Reggie to Apparate them to their house on Eaton Square and from there they took the tube to the public entrance to the Ministry. They hoped to escape the press coverage the trial had gained that way.

However, they were both soaked when they arrived at the telephone booth that once again marked the public entrance and had to cast Drying Charms on each other. Almost Kingsley's first order as Interim Minister for Magic had been to get rid of the humiliating entrance that had been established under Voldemort's reign and restore the old entrance, and Harry sent thankful vibes to his old friend from the days of the resistance as he picked up the receiver to announce their arrival.

As they had expected, the Atrium was crammed with members of the international press who besieged the Apparition Point and the Floos. They had kept the hoods of their heavy winter cloaks up; they hid their faces nicely. Nobody took notice of them when they got in line to get their wands checked. The eyes of the security wizard, however, became wide when he checked Harry's wand, and he opened his mouth. A stern glance from Harry made him reconsider and he let them pass without giving their identities away.

Their luck held until they reached the courtroom. Unlike Harry's trial for the use of underage magic this one was a civil case; therefore, it didn't take place in the courtrooms in the dungeons of the ministry, but in a room on the second level of the Ministry.

Percy waited for them in front of the room. A little to the side stood their friends, Fabian Vaisey, Miles Bletchley, Tori and her friend Gina, Dean, Luna, Neville and Hannah, the Macmillans and the Boots, and Moira and Aaron Vaisey. Percy had them named as witnesses to Harry's and Daphne's claims, so they all had got a summons by the court. The healer who had treated Harry at St. Mungo's after the day at the Vaisey's was also there.

Harry and Daphne had decided not to travel together with them, or Skeeter and Cuffe would claim they had told the witnesses what to say in advance. Harry looked around; Skeeter's concrete-locks and bejewelled glasses were nowhere in sight. She'd probably make an entrance of it and appear in the last minute.

Then there were the many reporters.

As soon as they greeted Percy and pushed back their hoods, they had to endure a thunderstorm of magical camera flashes. Harry took it in stride, he'd got used to the demands of the public on him after his defeat of Voldemort, though he still didn't like it. Daphne, however, was still new to the game, and she kept close to Harry, much to the delight of the international press.

They ignored the questions hurtled at them and listened to Percy who gave them a last overview of what to expect in the courtroom. 'No worries,' he said. 'A civil case is rather different from what you went through during your trial a couple of years ago, Harry.'

'Your word in Merlin's ear,' Harry said. The doors of the courtroom opened, and the clerk calling the parties into the room interrupted him.

They entered the courtroom after Percy. The room was a pleasant surprise, brightly lit and rather plain it could have passed for a conference room, except for the judge's bench on a raised platform at the head of the room. Percy led them to a table on the other side of the room, perpendicular to the judge's bench, and told them to sit down.

Behind them the press crowd pushed into the room, eager to get the best places on the few visitors benches.

Harry, Daphne and Percy had just made themselves comfortable when Rita Skeeter, Barnabas Cuffe, and their legal representative entered the room and sat down at the table opposite of them. Skeeter regarded them with a hungry look, as if she was already writing the next despicable article about them in her mind. Cuffe barely acknowledged them. He sprawled in his seat next to his solicitor like a man who owns the place, and the fleeting look he gave them was full of disdain.

'There's someone certain of victory,' Harry said to Percy under his breath.

Percy twisted his mouth into a wry smile. 'Well, he's got every reason to be. Nobody ever dared to go against The Prophet, they either scared them away with threats to destroy their reputation and business, or they bought the judges, back in the old days of the Bagnold and Fudge administrations.'

Harry rolled his eyes at him. 'You have a strange way to encourage your clients, you know.' That got him a small chuckle from Daphne, while Percy shook his head.

'Things have changed, Harry; firstly, I doubt anything can destroy the reputation of The-Man-Who-Vanquished, secondly, you're too rich to be afraid of any threats Cuffe will come up with, and thirdly, Kingsley has already put an end to the corruption of the judges.'

The door behind the judge's bench opened, the judge walked in, a folder under one arm, and they all got to their feet. He was a tall man in his late fifties, with ice-grey, thin hair that let the pink skin at the top of his head shine through.

'Please, take a seat,' the judge said, put the folder on the judge's table and sat down behind it. He opened the folder in front of him, reached into the pocket of his robes, and put a pair of reading spectacles on his nose. 'I hereby open the case Potter and Potter against The Daily Prophet and others. Presiding judge is Judge Cleese.'

Percy had been right, a civil case was a rather dull affair compared to the trial he had to face during his fifth year. Harry had problems not to let his thoughts drift while the judge made sure of the identities of those who had presented themselves in his courtroom today. When he came to Harry, he showed no sign to be impressed by his fame, neither did he show any sign of hostility, like many Purebloods still did. He didn't even permit himself a short flicker of his eyes to the famous scar. Percy's statement about the corruption of the judges having come to an end seemed to be true.

The judge sent the witnesses out of the room and then picked up a sheet of parchment from the folder in front of him. 'We have to deal with two different infringements here,' he said, consulting the sheet of parchment. 'Firstly, there is an article about an alleged case of domestic violence in the plaintiffs' household the respondent Ms Skeeter wrote and the respondent Mr Cuffe agreed to publish in The Sunday Prophet. Secondly, there is the photo Ms Skeeter's photograph took of the plaintiffs, without their consent and, as the plaintiffs claim, during a private lunch with friends. The respondent Ms Skeeter used that photo to illustrate another article about alleged marriage problems between the plaintiffs.'

He looked up. 'The plaintiffs claim that the respondent's allegations of domestic violence from Mrs Potter against her husband isn't true, and that the respondent Ms Skeeter used knowledge gained from a confidential talk between the plaintiffs and a healer from St. Mungo's out of context.'

He let go of the sheet of parchment and adjusted his glasses on his nose. 'For the first claim it's upon the plaintiffs to prove that the fact the respondent reported in that article - the alleged domestic violence committed by Mrs Potter against her husband - is indeed untrue and that Ms Skeeter has used a casual remark out of context to create the impression of marital problems between the plaintiffs. For that purpose the plaintiffs produced quite a number of witnesses we might have to hear later. For the second claim the outcome of this trial depends on whether a photo of a prominent member of our society taken in a public place like a café can be deemed an infringement of privacy, as the plaintiffs claim. The respondents, on the other side, invoke the freedom of press, especially the public's right of information. The plaintiffs also produced witnesses for the situation in which the photo was taken, and we will have to hear them, too, if the parties don't come to an agreement beforehand.'

Cuffe sneered at that. 'The Prophet doesn't deal in settlements.' He turned to Harry, a fatherly look on his face, although the cold stare in his eyes betrayed him. 'Young man, do yourself and your… er… wife a favor and withdraw your claims. Believe me, you won't like what's coming next otherwise.'

Percy had warned him that Cuffe would try to intimidate him. Harry schooled his face into a bland mask and returned Cuffe's cold stare. 'I have a good idea from the past to which lengths The Prophet will go to destroy my reputation, Mr Cuffe. I didn't back off then, and I won't wimp out this time, either. It seems to me you've forgotten to whom you are talking. Do you really think you will be successful where Voldemort wasn't? You might find you bit off more than you can chew and swallow.'

At the mentioning of the feared name Cuffe blanched, and Skeeter let out a small whimper. The reporters on the visitors benches scribbled furiously on their notepads, although a few soft sniggers wafted through the courtroom at Cuffe's and Skeeter's reaction to Harry's bold statement.

Cuffe's lawyer was the first to recover. A short, squat man with oily hair he wore combed back in a style that reminded Harry of Lucius Malfoy, he gave the Potters a malicious glace across the room. 'Mr Potter, this is your last chance to back out.'

Harry shook his head. 'I won't.'

The lawyer sneered at him. 'Very well. You'll live to regret your decision.'

The judge had watched their exchange with an unmoved face. Now he cleared his throat. 'It seems any attempts to achieve an agreement in this case will fail. Mr Potter, maybe you can shed some light on the happenings that led to that article about the alleged domestic violence?'

Harry cleared his throat. 'Well, we'd met at the Vaisey's with a couple of friends that afternoon for a friendly game of Quidditch. I played seeker, and Daphne was one beater of the opposite team. At one point I was close to catching the Snitch and got a well-aimed Bludger in my ribcage for my efforts. The other team celebrated the beater, so I found out it had been my wife.' He smirked at Daphne, who bit her lip and lowered her head.

'To be honest, it hurt like hell. Daphne's a damned good beater, deadly with a bat and a Bludger. I realised I probably had at least two broken ribs, however, I didn't want to spoil anyone's fun, so I cast a Healing Charm on myself when nobody was looking. I felt much better after that and didn't think twice about it until I got ready for bed and Daphne saw the bruise on my ribcage. She freaked and insisted I had to see a healer, although I told her it was nothing.'

He turned his head and gave his wife a small smile. 'It was plain to see she was all worked up over a small bruise and I didn't want her to lose any sleep about such a trifle, so I agreed to see a healer. When we arrived at St. Mungo's the waiting area was crowded with drunken wizards and witches, and quite a few of them in the mood for a brawl. Apparently, they all had read the article The Prophet published right after the news of our marriage had become public, the one where Ms Skeeter speculated unabashedly about the means my wife might have used to trap me.' He glared at Skeeter, and she recoiled in her seat.

'They advanced on us, I just so raised a shield in time to keep them from tearing my wife apart. A healer came and ushered us into one cubicle on the entrance floor. When he saw the bruise on my ribs, he made that rather bad joke about domestic violence, and Daphne became all worked up again, so I had to calm her down. The healer confirmed I'd had two broken ribs, but the Healing Charm I'd used had already taken care of that. He used another charm on the bruise, more to calm down Daphne than out of necessity, I think, and that it was. We went home after that, and I wouldn't have spared another thought on the incident, hadn't it been for Skeeter's slanderous article in the next morning's Prophet.'

Again, he glared at Skeeter. 'I can stomach a lot; over the last couple of years I've learned that the wizarding world will hail me as their saviour in one week and condemn me in the next, and I couldn't care less. However, I'll draw a line for my wife. She's done not a single thing The Prophet implied, yet she's subjected to the hatred of those who buy each lie The Prophet prints. I won't tolerate that.'

When he came to the end of his statement, his nostrils flared, and his cheeks burned. Daphne put her hand on his and gave it a slight squeeze, and he linked his fingers with hers and took a deep breath.

'Thank you, Mr Potter,' the judge said. He looked at the two lawyers. 'Questions?'

Both lawyers shook their heads.

'I'd also like to hear about this event from Mrs Potter's point of view,' the judge said.

Daphne's fingers tightened around Harry's, and she froze. Harry gave her an encouraging smile. She replied to that with a small smile of her own and relaxed somewhat, took a deep breath and turned towards the judge.

'As Harry already said, we'd met at the Vaisey's with our friends that afternoon for a game of Quidditch. Somehow it ended boys against girls, and I was one beater of my team, together with Lisa Boot. I think the boys made it easy on us, because we were soon in the lead and it somehow got to our heads. About midway into the game Harry spotted the Snitch and went after it. Had he caught it, the game would have gone to the boys, and they would have ruled it over us for the rest of the day, at least.'

Small chuckles from the visitors' bench wafted through the courtroom at that.

Harry smirked at his wife. 'You bet,' he said under his breath.

'I admit the excitement of the game took over.' Daphne went on with her statement. 'The only thing I thought of that moment was that we somehow had to stop Harry from catching the Snitch, and when that Quaffle turned up next to me, I didn't think and just aimed it at Harry. I got him real good.' She shifted in her seat and grimaced.

'Right then I had no idea I had hurt him, he didn't even say as much as "ouch!", he just grinned at me and continued the game.' She glared at Harry, much to the amusement of the visitors, as another round of chuckles betrayed. 'The game lasted at least another hour. Harry not once let on that he was injured. We had dinner with the Vaiseys afterwards and stayed until late into the night, I think it was already after midnight when we returned home. When Harry took off his shirt to get ready for bed and I saw that big purple bruise on his ribcage…' Her voice thickened at her last words and trailed off. Daphne bit her lip and lowered her head.

Harry squeezed her hand, and she gulped and raised her head to look at the judge. 'I'd had no idea that I'd hurt him that bad, and when I saw the bruise I freaked out and insisted he had to see a healer. Of course he tried to play it down, said he'd had worse -'

'I had,' Harry said.

She shot him a dirty side glance. 'I know, but that's no reason to continue to neglect yourself, love, not as long as I'm here to make sure you take care of yourself.'

That got her another round of chuckles from the visitor's bench, and even the corners of the judge's mouth curled up. Skeeter's calculating eyes, however, not once left Daphne's face, no doubt she was already scheming how she could use this statement to Daphne's best disadvantage. Cuffe still looked bored.

Daphne took a deep breath. 'I convinced my husband to see a healer right away. That bruise really looked bad, and it scared me, even though I probably overreacted.'

'Probably?' Harry muttered.

His wife gave him another withering side glance, albeit this time she refused to take the bait. Instead, she turned back to the judge. 'When we arrived at St. Mungo's, the waiting area was crammed. People recognised Harry and me right away, and they didn't take kindly to my appearance. One witch spouted some nonsense about me having given Love Potions to Harry, and the whole crowd advanced on us. It was scary, Harry had to cast a shield to protect us, and a healer came and ushered us into an examination cubicle.'

She pushed a strand of hair out of her face. 'The healer made that lame joke about domestic violence when he saw the bruise, I don't remember what he said, I was much too anxious to find out how badly I had hurt Harry. Thank Merlin it wasn't as bad as I'd feared, Harry had already healed himself during the game, and the healer took care of the bruise.'

'Thank you, Mrs Potter,' the judge said.

Cuffe's lawyer cleared his throat. 'I have a question for the woman who styles herself Mrs Potter.'

Harry went rigid in his seat. 'You'd better stop with your insinuations right away. Don't think I'll hesitate to sue you, too.'

The lawyer gave him an oily smile. 'Well, Mr Potter, since there is no evidence of your alleged marriage in the Ministry's records, I am allowed to utter my doubts about your marital status.'

'We never claimed we married in England.'

The oily lawyer didn't react to that, but Skeeter's eyes went wide, and the next moment the wheels in her brain seemed in overdrive. Harry's stomach gave a jolt as if someone had kicked him. He should have known the bitch would react to that remark, Merlin give she wouldn't draw the right conclusions from his hasty remark.

'Very well, Mrs… Potter, do you recall what you said to the healer when he came to your rescue?' the oily lawyer said.

Daphne furrowed her eyebrows as she tried to remember that night in August. 'I'm not sure, I was rather distressed. I think I told him that Harry got hit in the side and I thought he'd got a broken rib, but I can't remember the exact words anymore.'

'Then let me trigger your memory.' The lawyer picked up a piece of parchment in front of him and read, 'The healer asked them what had happened. The girl claimed that her husband had got hit in the side. She had broken his ribs.' He lowered the sheet of parchment. 'This is a written affirmation in lieu of an oath by Ms Skeeter's contact. It proves that you admitted having inflicted serious injuries on your alleged husband.' He sneered at Daphne, stood up and motioned to hand the sheet of parchment towards the judge.

The judge, however, refused to take it. 'You know that a written affirmation in lieu of an oath is not an admissible piece of evidence; you must present the witness for your claims in my courtroom.'

'Your honour, Ms Skeeter is an esteemed member of the press,' the lawyer said, but couldn't go on because of the ironic comments that came from the visitor's bench.

Harry had to fight down a grin. Apparently Skeeter's colleagues didn't agree with the "esteemed member" bit.

The judge glared at the spectators. 'Quiet, or I will have the courtroom cleared of visitors.'

'Ms Skeeter is an esteemed member of the press, and as such she is dependent on the unwritten rules of confidentiality between herself and her sources. Because of that she can't be forced to reveal the identity of her informant.' Skeeter's lawyer made his point as soon as order was restored.

The judge looked at him with raised eyebrows. 'Mr Olifant, I'm sure you're familiar with the code of civil procedure that has been introduced by the Ministry of Magic about two hundred years ago and confirmed by the Wizengamot?'

'Yes, of course,' the lawyer said in an indignant tone.

Percy grinned.

'Well, then you should know that the admissible pieces of evidence in a civil case are strictly limited, and a written affirmation in lieu of an oath is not among them. You must present your witness, the unwritten rules of Ms Skeeter's profession have to bow to the written law.'

'But -' Olifant didn't give up.

Percy cleared his throat.

'Yes, Mr Weasley?' the judge said.

Percy gave Olifant a bland look. 'There's a good reason written affirmations in lieu of an oath are not admissible pieces of evidence. Most times they aren't worth the parchment they are written on; for all we know you might have asked one of your paralegals to write that down.'

'I protest that uncalled for attack on my professional integrity!' Olifant shouted, red in the face.

'Mr Weasley, please refrain from personal attacks on the representative of the respondents,' the judge said.

Percy gave a small bow to the judge and Olifant, albeit the smug smile on his lips showed that he had brought his point across.

'However, Mr Weasley raised a valid point: the court has no means to prove the validity of that written statement, therefore it is not admissible,' the judge said.

Olifant, still red in the face, leaned towards Skeeter and had a quiet and heated conversation with her. Skeeter seemed not to be happy with him, however, she nodded, albeit she sent a death glare at the judge.

The lawyer turned to the judge. 'The respondents plead for adjournment of the case, we'll present our witnesses at a later point.'

'I object, that's an unnecessary delay,' Percy said as soon as Olifant had ended. 'The respondents knew of the claims against them for months, they could have presented their witnesses today.'

'Objection sustained,' the judge said. When Olifant opened his mouth to protest, he gave him a glare. 'Next time, do your homework in advance, Mr Olifant. That being said, the court doesn't think it necessary to hear additional witnesses to the question if the injuries Mr Potter sustained were caused by his wife. She already admitted to that.'

'Ouch,' Percy muttered under his breath, while Olifant slumped in his seat.

The judge turned to Rita Skeeter. 'I'd also like to hear your take on the events that led to that article in The Prophet.'

Rita gave him a simpering smile, although her eyes kept their cool and calculating expression. 'I got my information about that incident from two independent sources. My first informant contacted me shortly after midnight and informed me that the Chosen One and his alleged wife had turned up at St. Mungo's. My source also told me that the so-called Mrs Potter claimed to have broken Harry's ribs. Not long after that my second informant told me that the Potters had talked to the healer about a case of domestic violence.' She knitted her eyebrows together and glared at Daphne. 'I'm an old hand in my business, and it didn't take me long to put two and two together. The so-called Potter marriage already had ended and dissolved in violence. Considering how surprised everyone was about seeing those two together -' she pointed her square chin towards Harry and Daphne '- that development was to be expected, wasn't it? The Chosen One is a person of public interest, therefore the public may be informed about his failing marriage as soon as it became clear.'

'I see,' the judge said, and gave a fleeting look at Harry's and Daphne's entwined hands. He turned to Barnabas Cuffe. 'Mr Cuffe, did you take any means to validate the claims Mrs Skeeter made in her article?'

Cuffe looked as if he hardly suppressed a yawn. 'Of course not. Our readers love Rita's articles, especially the venomous ones. I could tell The Prophet would need a reprint that day as she showed me her articles. Besides, nobody messes with The Prophet.' He shot a death glare at Harry.

'So, you didn't talk to the Potters to get a statement before you printed the article?'

'That wasn't necessary.' Cuffe huffed. 'They'd have lied about what happened, anyway.'

Heat shot into Harry's face. 'Contrary to The Prophet, I never lie, Mr Cuffe, that's an established fact by the happenings of the last four years.'

Cuffe opened his mouth, no doubt for a scathing reply, and Percy put a restraining hand on Harry's arm.

The judge interfered. 'The court will decide if someone lied in this case - after a careful evaluation of the presented evidence.' He jotted some notes on a parchment in front of him and looked up. 'Let's get to the second incident. Mr Potter, what happened that day?'

Harry took a deep breath. Percy was right, there was nothing to be gained by jumping at Cuffe's throat. 'Daphne and I had been shopping in Diagon Alley that morning and decided to have lunch at that new café that had opened in the former rooms of Fortescue's ice cream parlour. We couldn't get a free table and were just about to leave when Moira and Aaron invited us to sit with them.'

'Moira and Aaron?' The judge interrupted his statement.

'Moira and Aaron Vaisey. Aaron is some kind of cousin of Daphne's, and I had met them for the first time when we played Quidditch at their house. We joined them at their table and had lunch together. Somehow we ended talking about Moira's older brothers who both have died during the first war, and she told us hilarious stories about them. I made a remark about prankster genes running in Moira's family, and from there the conversation turned to the death of Fred Weasley during the Battle of Hogwarts, and how Moira's older sister, Mrs Weasley, coped with that. Moira said the deaths of their brothers had been painful for her and Mrs Weasley, but that losing a child had to be even more painful. It was a rather sobering thought, and we fell silent, then the flash of a camera startled us. I looked up and saw Skeeter and her photographer, Bozo. I became angry at her and asked her who'd given her permission to take our picture. Skeeter said she needed no permission because I was a person of public interest, especially since my alleged marriage problems had become public. I told her she'd made that up, and next thing I know is Skeeter sitting down at our table and asking obnoxious questions about our marriage. We left then, but Skeeter followed us until we reached the Apparition Point and made an escape.'

'Thank you, Mr Potter.' The judge looked at Olifant and Percy, who both shook their heads. He motioned to Daphne to give her account of the incident. Her statement confirmed Harry's in all major points, and the judge turned to Skeeter.

'I'd like to hear the incident from your point of view, Ms Skeeter.'

'Well, Harry told you already, he was in a public place. He is a person of public interest, everything he does is newsworthy, so I told Bozo to take his picture.' She leaned back in her seat and pouted.

The memory of Daphne's joke about Skeeter not being above to follow him into the men's lavatory popped up in Harry's mind, and he hardly suppressed a snort.

'Is that all, Ms Skeeter?' the judge asked.

Skeeter shrugged. 'What more is there to talk about?'

Percy cleared his throat. 'Oh, I think you'll be surprised, Miss Skeeter. Tell me, how reacted Mr Potter to your appearance?'

She shrugged again. 'Honestly? I didn't care.'

'Isn't it true that Mr Potter told you you could not take a picture of him and his wife? Isn't it true you sat down at the Potter's table and didn't budge, even when he asked you to leave?'

'Technicalities,' Skeeter said with a dismissive wave of her hand. 'I am a journalist, it is my job to find out the truth about prominent men and women of our society and inform my readers. So the Potters weren't thrilled about my finding out the truth about their relationship? It doesn't matter, my readers have a right to know, and the Potters were in the way of the freedom of the press.'

That elicited some exclamations and whistles from her colleagues on the visitor bench.

Harry and Daphne shared a look.

'It doesn't seem to me her colleagues agree with her point of view,' Daphne whispered.

Percy gaped at Skeeter. 'You're not serious, are you?'

'Of course I am.' She huffed. 'Maybe you should take some remedial law courses, Mr Weasley.'

'I don't think that's necessary,' Percy said with a shake of his head. 'Your interpretation of your rights as a journalist is the worst I ever heard.'

'It surely is unconventional,' the judge said, and regarded Skeeter with a frown on his face. 'Ms Skeeter, did it ever occur to you there is a red line even a journalist shouldn't cross?'

Skeeter sat up straight in her seat. 'Of course not, there's nothing like a red line for a good journalist, or they wouldn't do their job right.'

Loud exclamations and murmurs from the visitor bench indicated that the other journalists didn't agree.

Olifant leaned forward and gave the judge an oily grin. 'Be careful, Your Honour, or we might think you are biased and act accordingly.'

The temperature in the courtroom seemed to drop several degrees as the judge gave Olifant a frosty stare. 'You should know, Mr Olifant, that the court may ask all suitable questions that shed a light on the actions and motives of the parties involved. You should also know that any attempt to intimidate the court will have repercussions.'

The oily lawyer went rather red in the face at that, yet refrained from further comments.

'We will now hear the witnesses,' the judge said.

The healer from St. Mungo's was first, and he confirmed the talk he'd had with them during Harry's examination. Their friends were next, and they all gave more or less the same account of the Quidditch game, except for Luna. The judge looked rather confused when she insisted the Nargles had caused Harry's injury.

Aaron and Moira came after Luna to give their statement about the run-in with Skeeter. The reporters in the back of the courtroom almost wrote their fingers off during Aaron's vivid description of how they'd run away from Skeeter and Bozo.

The judge never let on what he thought about the statements. He'd take notes and ponder additional questions, but all-in-all his neutral and professional performance was a far cry from the biased trial Harry had experienced right before his fifth year, and Harry finally relaxed and leaned back in his chair. Whatever the outcome of this trial would be, at least it was fair.

'Thank you, Mrs Vaisey, that's all,' the judge said. He looked to Percy and Olifant, who both shook their heads. They had covered everything of importance.

Moira got up from the witness' stand and took a seat next to her husband on the crowded front bench at the back of the room. Silence descended as the judge pondered his notes.

'The court has decided,' he said at last and stood up.

Everybody in the room followed suit.

The judge picked up the sheet of parchment in front of him and read out: 'In the name of the magical people of Britain: verdict in the case of Potter and Potter against the Daily Prophet, Cuffe and Skeeter.

'The respondents are hereby ordered to cease any covering that alludes to a personal attack of the plaintiff Mrs Potter on the plaintiff Mr Potter because of alleged marriage problems. They are further ordered to cease publishing the photo taken of the plaintiffs at Fortescue's Café at Diagon Alley. They are forbidden to take any pictures of the plaintiffs when they are out in public on recognisable private occasions. Lastly they are ordered to pay all profits they made with the articles and the picture to the plaintiffs.'

'NO!' Cuffe shouted. He'd become rather pale at the judge's last words.

The judge didn't pay him any heed, he sat down and motioned the audience to sit down as well, then he proceeded to explain the court's reasons for his verdict.

Harry listened with only half an ear, he didn't understand most of what the judge said, anyway. Percy would explain later, after all that was his job. He watched Skeeter, Cuffe and Olifant while the judge went on with his verdict.

Cuffe and the lawyer had their heads put together, Cuffe had regained his colour, in fact the red of his face now matched Uncle Vernon's during his worst days. He talked to the lawyer non stop, and by the dirty looks he gave Olifant he wasn't happy with him.

Skeeter didn't pay any heed to the judge or her agitated editor. In true Slytherin fashion she didn't let on if the verdict bothered her. Her narrowed eyes, however, never left Daphne and him.

A cold shiver ran down his spine. They had won the court trial, but this was still far from being over as far as Skeeter was concerned.

Daphne squeezed his hand, and he turned his head and smiled at her. No matter what would come next, she'd be by his side and help him through it, as he would help her.

The judge ended and closed the case. Harry got up, put an arm around his wife's shoulder, and together they drifted out of the courtroom.

They didn't come far, the international press waylaid him and Daphne as soon as they'd crossed the threshold to the corridor in front of the courtroom.

'Mr Potter, what…'

'Daphne, look this way.' A bright flash got off, and Harry blinked away the bright spots that danced in front of his eyes.

'Harry, will you…'

He held up his hand, and the crowd in front of him fell silent. He let out a sigh of relief that had Daphne chuckle under her breath.

'Thank you.' He took a deep breath. 'My wife and I are pleased about the outcome of this trial. I was the subject of downright slanderous press coverage more than once in the past, and it was - not nice, especially since I still was an insecure teenager back then, with no-one to stand up for me. The press should subject nobody to that, and I'll definitely draw a line when my family is concerned. Also, while I'm aware I'm a person of public interest and will probably attract attention wherever I'll go in the magical world for the rest of my life, I'm still a human being and not an animal in the zoo that can be ogled and petted to your heart's content. I don't mind that they take my picture when I'm attending official events, for example, the opening session of the Wizengamot. The same is true for my wife. However, we still like to be left alone on private outings. In this light the verdict of the court makes sure that we still will live a somewhat normal life and won't be forced to leave the country as soon as we've finished our education to protect our privacy.'

The last statement elicited an audible gasp from the crowd.

'You're taking the mickey,' someone shouted.

Harry shook his head. 'I'm serious about this. If magical Britain can't let me live my life in peace, I will take my wife to a country that respects our privacy and where we can raise our children away from prying eyes.'

'Mr Potter, what are you going to do with the compensation the court granted you?' another voice out of the crowd asked.

'I'm glad that you asked.' He exchanged a smile with Daphne. 'My wife and I don't need the money, so we decided to donate it to charity. You probably know that we recently founded the Tracey-Davis-Foundation for Muggleborn Witches and Wizards. I used a part of the fortune I inherited from my godfather, the falsely accused and imprisoned Sirius Black, for that purpose. I'm also trying to better the situation of werewolves in this country. One of my father's best friends, Remus Lupin, was a werewolf. You can't imagine a gentler man than him, yet he was regarded as a dangerous beast, even though he was only dangerous one night of the month. Even that could be prevented when he took the Wolfsbane Potion. Unfortunately, that potion is ridiculously overpriced and hard to get, no doubt as another means to keep werewolves away from our society. It's my goal to change the legislation pertaining to werewolves in the long run, but right now I'm looking into setting up another foundation that will contribute Wolfsbane to those affected by Lycantrophy who want to live a normal life.'

The crowd had become louder during his last words. As soon as he finished, they fired another barrage of questions at him.

He held up his hand again. 'That's everything for now. My wife and I had to miss a day of school to attend to this trial. Headmistress McGonagall is not happy with us because of that, so we need to go back to school. We must put in some extra hours this weekend to keep up with our homework that's piling up, or she'll keep us in detention for the rest of the school year.'

That earned him a round of laughter. The crowd of reporters parted in front of them, and he led Daphne to the elevators. Percy moved to follow them, but bereft of their main target, the reporters closed in on him and bombarded him with questions.

'Poor Percy,' Daphne said while they waited for the elevator.

'He'll live. He's a Weasley, secretly he enjoys the attention.'

That had her laugh. She was still laughing when the elevator arrived and Harry propelled her inside with his hand on the small of her back.

He turned around and leaned with his back against the wall farthest from the door. His eyes fell on Olifant, Cuffe, and Skeeter, who stood a few yards away, engrossed in what seemed to be a heated discussion, and now stared at him with eyes full of venom.

He shuddered. They might have won the trial, but the fight against The Daily Prophet, Cuffe, and Skeeter wasn't over yet. What would be their next move?

Daphne left him no time to dwell on that thought. As soon as the golden grilles closed behind them and the elevator jerked into motion, she threw her arms around him and kissed him deeply.

'You were magnificent with the press.' Her eyes beamed at him. 'Uncle Gordon trained you well in these few short weeks.'

His cheeks became warm under her praise. 'Thank you, sweetheart.'

She looked as if she'd like to continue their snogging session. Alas, the elevator reached the atrium, and the golden grilles opened to display them to the wizarding public.

They lost no time in the atrium; Harry grabbed Daphne's hand, and they hurried to the Apparition Point before the onlookers noticed who hurried past them. The next moment they stood in the Apparition Point at Eaton Square.

The next morning they got ready rather early to join their friends for breakfast. It was the day of the game of Hufflepuff against Ravenclaw, and both Ernie and Terry were playing for their houses.

'Hurry, love, I can't wait to hear the banter between Terry and Ernie this morning,' Daphne said, her eyes dancing with mirth.

'You mean you want to add your two Knuts to throw them off their game.' Harry cast a knowing look at his wife as he closed the last buttons of his shirt.

Her expression became innocent. 'Maybe.'

'Snake!' He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a kiss on the tip of her nose. 'It won't work, you know. Both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw have passable chasers, but their defense sucks. That means they'll both have racked up a considerable amount of points until their Seeker catches the Snitch. That also means Slytherin will end in last place today, no matter how much you mess with Terry and Ernie. Your team made only meagre thirty points against us Lions.'

She mock-pouted, but laughed. 'I'm afraid you're right.'

Hand in hand they walked to the Great Hall. The excited sound of students chatter over breakfast on Quidditch-Saturday reached their ears as soon as they entered the entrance hall. However, a hush fell over the room when they entered the Great Hall.

Harry took in the many eyes on them and exchanged a look with his wife. 'I wonder what it's this time,' he said in a voice that carried through the large room as they walked on to the Hufflepuff table.

The student body met his question with nervous chuckles around the room.

Ernie waved The Daily Prophet at them when they sat down. 'Skeeter strikes back.'

'That was to be expected, wasn't it?' Daphne said and prepared herself a bowl with porridge and fruit. 'Let me guess, she's raving about rich wizards who bought the judge to suppress the freedom of the press.'

'Right in one.' Ernie chuckled. 'However, your and Harry's name wasn't mentioned once.'

Daphne shrugged at that. 'That would've been professional suicide after yesterday's verdict, even Skeeter isn't that dumb. Enough of that obnoxious woman. You'd better tell me what tactic you will employ against Ravenclaw, Ernie. Maybe I can give you some pointers.'

'You don't honestly expect me to blab about our tactics with him next to me.' Ernie spluttered, rather red in the face, and motioned with his thumb to Terry.

Everybody broke out into laughter, and the talk turned to the upcoming game.

While their friends were discussing the chances of the respective teams, Daphne turned her head to Harry and winked at him.

Warmth spread in his chest, he fully knew what she'd done for him, and he leaned into her and gave her a kiss in thanks.

The heated game between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw that ended in a draw, and the rambunctious after-game-party in the seventh year common room helped them a lot to relax from the strain the trial had put on them. Again, upperclassmen from all houses attended to the party, and Harry's heart was full to bursting at the thought of how far they had come in the months after the war. A short visit with Teddy on Sunday did one last thing to reload their batteries.

They knew they had a busy week ahead, Harry had another faction meeting scheduled, and on Saturday there would be an epic cardboard game tournament for the younger students in the Great Hall, both events that would eat up Harry's time.

However, Harry hadn't counted on the streak of bad luck that seemed to follow Daphne, and how it affected her.

It started harmless enough on Tuesday.

As always, their group of friends spent the free period in the afternoon in the study area that adjoined the seventh year classroom, to get a head start on their homework. Progress was slow; Dean, Seamus, and Parvati had also opted to study. Ginny joined them, and soon she and Seamus were engaged in a game of footsie, accompanied with a lot of giggles that disturbed the concentration of those who were studying. No matter how often Parvati elbowed Ginny into the side, the redhead seemed to be oblivious to that. Just the contrary, Parvati's silent admonitions seemed to spur her and Seamus on.

Harry's eyes were glued to his Transfiguration textbook, and he took great pains not to look into Ginny's direction, albeit he seethed inwardly. Though, not because of the reason Ginny wanted to provoke. He'd got to know her pretty well in the short time they'd been together, and he wasn't the naïve boy anymore he once had been: by now he realised that she was trying to make him jealous.

He sighed and turned a page in his textbook. What she tried to achieve with that display was beyond him. He was married and deeply in love with his wife, his time with Ginny was long over. Surely she couldn't be as daft as not to realise that?

Another giggle from the adjoining table set his teeth on edge: apparently she was.

Beside him, Daphne muttered something under her breath and attacked the parchment under her quill with more force than necessary. The tip of the quill splintered, and a dark stain spread over Daphne's Transfiguration homework.

'Damn it!' She threw the offending quill on the parchment, thus creating even more ink stains, and glared at it from under furrowed eyebrows.

He put a hand on her balled fist and leaned towards her to give her a peck on the cheek. She relaxed under his touch, gave him an apologetic smile, and drew her wand to Vanish the ink stains on her work.

Harry returned to his work, but didn't accomplish much. What was wrong with Daphne? She was the calmer one of the two of them, normally Ginny's displays didn't faze her. Or, if they did, she at least didn't let on.

Another bout of giggles from the adjoining table disturbed the silence. Their friends raised their heads and sent death stares towards Ginny and Seamus, and Hermione let out a low hiss and motioned to push her chair back and get up, without doubt to give Ginny a piece of her mind.

Harry shook his head at her, and she stopped mid-motion and sank back in her chair. 'Why, Harry? She's behaving appalling and disturbing our work. She needs to be called out for that.'

He sighed and cast a wandless and silent Muffliato around their table. 'I agree with you, Hermione, but you also know how Ginny is. She wants to provoke a fight, and then either I or Daphne are forced to step in, and she would have the excuse she wanted to get my attention and fight with Daphne. I'm not inclined to play along, so we'd better ignore her.'

She grumbled at that, not at all convinced by his reasoning. The chiming of the bell that announced their free period was over decided the matter. With a huff into Ginny's direction she gathered her things and went off to Ancient Runes, together with Daphne, Lisa and Terry.

Harry didn't miss the calculating glance Ginny gave him as soon as Daphne had left the room, and also gathered his things. 'I think I'll return to our apartment to finish my work, it's much quieter there.'

'Good idea,' Ernie said, and Morag nodded, already packing her bag.

Harry looked at Ron and Neville. 'Want to join me?'

'Thanks, but I've finished my homework,' Neville said. He cast a surreptitious side glance at Ron, who glared at his sister, rather red in the face, and added in a low voice, 'I'd better stay and have an eye on them.'

'Better you than me, mate, and good luck!' With a small wave at a chuckling Neville Harry left the study room together with Ernie and Morag and walked to the apartment he shared with Daphne. Back in their rooms, he set to work on his Transfiguration essay and was still immersed in that task when the door to their apartment banged shut more than an hour later.

He looked up in time with a red-faced Daphne rushing into their living room. The front of her robes sported an ugly, frayed snag as big as the palm of his hand.

'Look what happened to my favourite set of school robes,' she exclaimed as soon as she saw him.

'How did that happen?'

She thumped her backpack down on the flat of her desk. 'I have no idea, one moment I walk with Lisa out of the classroom, and the next moment there's a tear in my robes.' Daphne threw her hands into the air as if to emphasise her words.

Harry grimaced. 'Sounds like a prank spell to me. Did you already try to end it?'

'I did.' Daphne huffed. 'It didn't work.'

Harry creased his eyebrows. Either the spell had been cast by someone rather powerful, or somebody had gone to great lengths to enhance their spell with the help of potions or runes. There was only one way to find out. 'Let me try.' He pulled out his wand and waved it across Daphne's robes.

The tear in Daphne's robes didn't change, not even when he doubled the amount of power and repeated the spell, a sure sign potions or runes were at work here. She let out a disappointed sigh.

The crease between Harry's eyebrows deepened. 'I don't like this.'

'Neither do I.' Daphne slumped down on the chair in front of her desk and glared down at the tear in her robes.

He blew her a kiss. 'I'm sorry about your robes, love, but I'm more concerned about the meanness behind the prank. Someone put a lot of effort into destroying someone else's property. That's nothing to be taken lightly.'

She startled and seemed to shrink even more into her seat. 'That never occurred to me. I was just angry.'

Harry got up, stepped behind her chair, and bent down to wrap his arms around her. 'Maybe I'm just paranoid, love, but we must talk about this to Headmistress McGonagall and the prefects, so that the teachers and the prefects keep their eyes open for a miscreant.'

Daphne snuggled into his embrace. 'I think you're being paranoid, Harry. Mean pranks happen all the time.'

He hummed to that and kissed the crown of her head.

A small smile appeared on Daphne's face, and she relaxed deeper into his embrace.

Harry didn't break the comfortable silence that settled onto the room. Behind the calm face he presented to his wife his thoughts raced. If he wasn't mistaken, this was the second mean prank in a row aimed at Daphne, the torn seam of her book bag showed the same modus operandi. Was someone out for Daphne? There was a strong possibility, even though most of the student body took her becoming head girl and being his wife in stride, there still were some who resented her for that. Ginny came to mind, but also Romilda Vane and some sixth year Hufflepuffs. He would have to monitor them.

And what was wrong with Daphne? She'd been uncharacteristically out of sorts all day long, even though the torn robes were a nuisance, they didn't warrant such a strong annoyance as she had displayed.

Daphne slipped out of his embrace. 'Time to get ready for dinner.' As she got up and stretched, a slight frown marred her forehead, and she put both hands on her lower stomach.

A light bulb went on in Harry's head. 'Ah, that's the reason you're so cranky! Cramps?'

She shot him a withering glance, then grimaced and nodded.

He put an arm around her. 'Let's skip dinner in the Great Hall and get comfortable on the sofa. I'll tell Breezy to bring you a hottie and prepare a dinner tray for you.'

'You are the best husband ever.' She kissed him on the cheek, already smiling again, and disappeared into their bedroom to change.

t.b.c.