Prologue
You know we're gonna lose it someday
And we're trying to hold it all together, but the devil is too clever
So I'm gonna die, you're gonna die, we're all gonna die... someday
- Someday by Flipsyde
Two Years After the Battle of Hogwarts
She was sitting at the bar, drink in hand when he first saw her. Her hair was in her eyes and at first he didn't recognize her. As if sensing his gaze from the door she turned, her eyes locked with his. He felt a wave of sudden anxiety wash over him and he wanted nothing more than to look away, to turn around a go out the door, pretend he'd never seen her. Everything would have been much easier if he hadn't seen her. She frowned as if sensing his panicked thoughts before finally offering him a tentative half smile and motioning to the barstool next to her.
"You're dead," he blurted the words the second he sat down and immediately regretted them. They hung in the air between them and she seemed to contemplate whether or not she wanted to ease the tension that had sprung up between them.
"So I've heard," she finally answered with that same half smile.
She toyed with a chain around her neck, seeming almost nervous. He began to relax as he realized she was as ill at ease as he. He hated not having the upper hand but seeing her there had thrown him off kilter.
She stared into the golden liquid in front of her and in her silence he studied her. She was thinner than last he'd seen her and the hands that held her drink as though it were her last lifeline were calloused as he'd never seen them before. Her dark hair hung limply to her shoulders and didn't appear to have been washed recently.
"Daphne," he hesitated, "where have you been?"
She looked up at him, her eyes protruding strangely from her emaciated face, "here and there," she gave him that half smile again, "and yourself?"
She wasn't giving anything away, that much was becoming obvious. Although if she finally decided to consume the beverage in front of her instead of staring it down he might have better luck getting something out of her.
"I'm still working in London," he creased his brows and shifted his observant gaze to his own hands.
"You still have your father's publishing company?"
It was her turn to contemplate him. He was taller and thinner than she remembered although she wasn't entirely certain it was possible for him to be any weedier. His eyes seemed darker than before; or maybe it was that teenage brooding had been replaced by the disillusionment that came with adulthood.
"It's about the only thing I have. Not everyone has an allowance from Harry Potter and a fairy godmother to turn to," he was bitter and that made her smile.
At least she wasn't the only one.
His words brought back the memory of her last days at home: Pansy crying over her mother, Pansy begging her for a place to stay, Narcissa sweeping in with her Black allowance guaranteed by her father's will no matter what the ministry or Harry Potter had to say about it and taking Pansy away to a mansion in the country. She remembered Cassandra's empty closet, Leander's hallowed face obscured by bars, her own face twisted by anger and tears and the determination she'd always lacked, the purpose she'd always needed.
She stood, "We'll get a room Theo."
It took him a minute to realize what she'd said and then once he had was forced to wonder if it was privacy she wanted or a more intimate setting for a more intimate reunion.
The bartender winked at him as she paid for a room for the night.
She led him up the dilapidated stairs of the seedy establishment and to a door which didn't look like it offered but privacy or protection. She turned to look at him as turned the key.
"You, Theo. You were someone I missed."
He was a little taken aback. They'd never been particularly close although he'd always felt a certain affinity for her. She was quiet, like him. She didn't make scenes and she knew how to keep her mouth shut unlike most of their friends. She had the dignity he'd always thought a Slytherin should have. She was proud and, even thin and undersized as she was, he could see pride in the way she stood with he back straight, as if challenging anyone to just try and underestimate her.
The room proved to be as small and unkempt as the rest of the inn. There was a double bed pressed into the corner with a patchwork quilt on it. A tiny window on one side showed the storm that was raging outside and he could hear the rain assaulting the roof. He hoped the roof wasn't in as bad shape as the rest of the place. He didn't think he could deal with a leaky ceiling on top of everything else. She sat, her back against the wall, on one side of the bed and he settled himself on the other.
"Where have you been," he repeated his question, hoping that perhaps she might be more candid in this setting.
She was silent for a few moments and he almost thought she wasn't going to answer when she finally opened her mouth to speak.
"I found them," she answered, "I found the only people who can help us now, the only people who can make things right."
He stared at her trying to make sense of her words when it began to dawn on him.
"Lestrange and Rowle."
She smiled her strange little smile at him again and he almost didn't care about what she'd done, what she was doing.
"I can't tell you where. I can't tell you anything really. It's not because I don't trust you although I shouldn't really, not after two years. I'm bound by magic. They're not fools and they're not taking any chances. Not now," her voice was filled with admiration when she spoke about them and he frowned.
"I'll just say that we won't have to live like this for much longer. Everything will go back to the way it used to be. The way it should be. Hell, things will be better," she grinned.
"I was never a Death Eater, Daphne," he reminded her.
"It doesn't matter, Theo. Nobody's forgotten your father, least of all them. You're a pureblood," she said pureblood as though it was the answer to everything.
Theodore leaned back, feeling the draft through the wall of the rickety building. He had never been one to pick sides, to take a definitive stance. It wasn't that he couldn't decide which side he agreed with, it was that he hated to lose. He hadn't come right out and stated his allegiances when the odds were good and he most definitely wasn't going to now.
"Do you really think that Lestrange and Rowle can do anything? The other Death Eaters are all in prison, the Ministry –"
His sentence was cut off as her mouth covered his. She felt like desperation; she was cold and brittle against him. She reminded him of a world that had never been and would never be. Her lips pressed hard against his; her arms snaked around his neck to pull him down on top of her.
She pulled back and gazed up at him, that smile playing on her lips, "Have a little faith, Theo. For once in your life believe in something."
A/N: I started this fic a few years back but never wrote more than a couple of chapters. I've just found some of my notes on the fic and have decided to revisit it. Let me know what you think!
