Sorry about the delay between updates.

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After a month of solid work and research, the date of the Potions conference had finally arrived. Short of giving up an even greater portion of each night's sleep, Daphne couldn't have done anything more to prepare herself for the lecture she was to deliver. Still, this knowledge had not made her complacent. Although most of the presentations before her own had been fascinating, Daphne had recited her speech under her breath throughout every one of them. It was likely that Temperance, who was seated beside her, could hear her apprentice quietly muttering away to herself, however she chose not to pass comment. In fact, throughout the first day of the convention, the only words Temperance spoke were brief critiques of her colleagues and their research. Her words were dispensed without a sugar coating, and her praise infrequent, so despite having received a degree of help from Temperance, Daphne was unsure whether she was more afraid of speaking before an audience or receiving a harsh review from the witch to whom she was apprenticed.

As was the way of things, Daphne's dread seemed to bring her own slot forward at an accelerated rate until, at last, her name was the next on the programme that was crumpled between her fingers. Even if her own slot was disastrous, Daphne was glad that it was going to take place on the second day of the conference because it meant that she could relax and enjoy the three remaining days of lectures; along with her colleagues, Daphne was being guided towards forefront of developmental brewing, and the thought excited her.

Nevertheless, she was almost sick with nerves as the talk scheduled before hers concluded. Potions Masters from across the globe swept from the lecture theatre left the room, discussing the pros and cons of the theory postulated by the austere looking Professor Bergesen, who taught their art at the Durmstrang Institute. Only Temperance lingered, her presence more comforting than any words. Wordlessly, she assisted Daphne in collecting her jars of ingredients and her cauldron from the antechamber behind the platform. Methodically, she laid them out and turned to Temperance for approval.

"You'll be fine – good, even. Perhaps in a few years you can take over from Bergesen, because if I can't sit through two hours of him talking, then I have no idea how his pupils pass their NEWTS, or whatever it is that they have out there." Temperance gave her a rare smile before descending the stairs, taking a seat in the front row. She paused, turning as she heard her shocked apprentice squeak a reply.

"What?" Daphne could barely process what was being suggested.

"You're right. A mind like yours is better suited to research than teaching, I think." Not acknowledging Daphne's shock, Temperance continued down the stairs. "You enjoy it too much to divide your attention."

Calmly, Temperance took her seat in the front row and began to leaf through her programme. Daphne was about to ask her if she was nervous about her own lecture, which was to close the conference, but she was distracted by the voices echoing through the adjacent corridor: people were moments away from returning. Doing her best to remain calm, Daphne checked once more that she had all of the necessary notes and ingredients. She tensed, hearing the doors swing open. Immediately the hall was filled with the buzz of academics, each and every one of them hungry for fresh information.

Slowly, Daphne turned and stepped up into the lectern. She set her notes out on the stand and ran her shaking fingers across the wood, allowing its smoothness to calm her. She watched as her audience sat and, gradually, settled into silence as they felt her gaze upon them.

Knowing that the time was ripe, Daphne took a deep breath and began to speak.

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It wasn't what the life that she would have chosen for her elder daughter, yet as Mrs Greengrass watched Daphne begin to speak, she knew instinctively that her child had found her vocation. There was such passion in her voice as she spoke, bringing what could only be described as a dry idea to life, a love of the subject shining in her eyes.

Certainly, Daphne would never make the kind of marriage that her younger sister would, and for a time this had worried her mother. It wasn't as though her first-born was any less special than her second – quite the contrary, actually – but, as Mrs Greengrass was seeing for the first time, the best of her was invested in the brewing world rather than the social.

And that suited both mother and daughter perfectly.

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What Astoria knew about potions could fit into the tiny vials that her sister was now wielding, yet she could tell that Daphne was good. So good that she couldn't help but forget about the attractive moustachioed wizard in the box opposite and pay attention to what her older sister was saying. Astoria had been making the most of having been seated in a box and was taking in the eye-candy displayed before her when she had noticed that every eye in the room was fixed on one thing and one thing only: her sister.

It was then that Astoria had tuned in, and once she began to pay attention and let the words wash over her, it was like a tap that couldn't be turned off; she did her best to consider the points her sister was making, however far over Astoria's head they may have been, and enjoyed being made to think.

Also, she experienced a rush of satisfaction as she watched her sister sweep across the stage towards her bubbling cauldron: in her warm red robes, Daphne looked fabulous.

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Astoria wasn't the only person in the audience considering the colouring of Daphne's robes. Almost directly across from her, in a box that was obscured from the view of the scarlet-clad speaker, was Lucius Malfoy. He had purchased a ticket almost as soon as they had been released, paying a little extra to keep his name from the list of persons attending, and told himself that he probably wouldn't go – that there was no point, because he wouldn't understand what Daphne was talking about and she wouldn't want to see him. However, no amount of reasoning could overcome the temptation presented by that small, alluring thought of seeing Daphne again, of hearing her voice filled with feeling, even if none of it was directed towards him.

The reality of it hadn't disappointed him.

As always, Daphne was beautiful to him. All the more so because, as Lucius had known from the moment she had opened her mouth, she was in her element.

As for what she was saying, Lucius had been good at Potions – he had taken a NEWT in the subject, although that had been many years ago – and so he could appreciate the intricacy of what she suggested about Dragon's Blood when reduced; the cleverness of the idea, if not every little detail. She was exceptional, forging her own place in an academic world, and he became increasingly conscious of what it was that he had lost as she continued to speak with confidence and clarity, entirely unaware of him watching her.

Lucius had deliberately chosen a seat that would be obscured from her vision, but that didn't stop the irrational sliver of his brain from wondering whether she could sense him in the crowd, or if her reaction to his appearance would prove to be favourable, after all. And he despised himself for having such thoughts, almost as much as he despised himself for throwing her away.

The instant Daphne finished her lecture, Lucius stood and wrapped his cloak around himself and began to descend the stairway. He had planned on leaving as soon as she had shown the first signs that she was drawing towards a conclusion, by starting the Q&A session, but the rhythm of her speech had pushed all such practical thoughts from his mind. By the time he made it down the stairs, the hall was just beginning to empty – this suited his needs exactly, as the last thing Lucius wanted was for Daphne to notice.

He didn't want to taint what had clearly been a success.

Quickly, Lucius made his way towards the exit and was less than a stone's throw away from the double doors when Daphne appeared from the antechamber, deep in conversation with Temperance Marchmain and a wizard he recognised from the Daily Prophet. Lucius stopped, tightening his grip on his cane. Before he could consider disapparating, Daphne turned to face forwards, her face lit up with laughter that echoed against the walls, literally filling the room with her warmth – laughter that died as she caught sight of him and blinked as though questioning her own vision. She stopped walking and stared at him, surprise in her eyes.

Lucius experienced a burning curiosity about what it was that she was really feeling. He drunk in every detail of her, noticing for the first time that she was a little too thin and that underneath her eyes were shadows that spoke of all of the nights she had spent researching and working. The Potions Mistress, Temperance Marchmain, drew the wizard from Daphne's side towards a colleague she spotted, sending Lucius a piercing glance as she did so. The atrium filled with people, each and every one of whom was oblivious to the tension they were cutting through, and the moment passed. He lost sight of her as a young reporter knocked into him from behind, making a mad dash for the door. Lucius felt his lip curl in a sneer, the indignity of being pushed aside utterly eclipsed by the frustration of having lost sight of Daphne in the crowd, and was about to pursue the young man when a very, very familiar figure brushed past his side.

If she wanted him to go, then Daphne wouldn't have to ask twice. However, Lucius couldn't stop himself from following her into the antechamber from which she had emerged. When he made it into the little room, she was pouring the contents of her cauldron into various sizes of jars – the kind of drudge work he imagined the Potions convention's organisers would have employed assistants for.

She was bent over the table; a tendril of hair had escaped her up-do and was obscuring her face. Still, Lucius knew that she would be trying her best to focus on the task at hand; trying too hard, because she was trying to cover up the fact that she was scared and bewildered.

"Daphne..." He spoke softly, yet she jumped as he addressed her. It was sweet torture to be so close to her again.

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She hadn't known what to think when she had first come across Lucius Malfoy in the atrium. Her thoughts had scattered like the audience, eager to disperse and discuss the theory she had presented to them. Perhaps it was because she was still flush with the success of her talk, because Daphne had felt strangely confident as she had walked into the antechamber. She hadn't issued Lucius with a direct invitation, but she had let him know where she was going. And he had followed.

He had done what his wife had sworn that he wouldn't and come back to her, trying again in spite of everything that had passed between them.

It was such a little thing when the severity of the manner of their parting was considered, and yet in terms of Lucius Malfoy, who had only ever known how to care for himself, it was quite a spectacular gesture. So much so that Daphne, feeling the weight of a month's delayed confusion and hurt crash down upon her head, felt as though she could be smothered by all of the thoughts and feelings that he caused her to experience.

Needing something to do with her hands, Daphne had started to store the Dragon's Blood when he had spoken her name, almost a caress. She was forced to think of him alone in that mausoleum of a manor house.

"My mother and my sister will be looking for me." She turned her back on him, carrying her belongings towards the sink. Daphne filled it with hot water, conscious of his eyes boring into her back.

"You spoke admirably."

"I don't know why you came here today." Daphne scrubbed furiously at the pestle, using a brush to remove the herbs that had stuck to it. The words came out more harshly than she had intended them too, and although she felt that he deserved the sting of them, Daphne had no interest in having the discussion turn into a full blown argument. "Sorry."

"No, you're not. And why should you be?" There was a hint of a smile in his voice – she knew that without having to turn around. "Tell me, do you recall what it was that we discussed at lunch? It was our first meal together, unless you count that wreck of an engagement party."

"I – it was Draco and Astoria." She bowed her head and allowed the brush she was using to sink to the bottom of the murky water, giving up on the pretence of cleaning. Lucius took a slow, deliberate step forward, giving her time to tell him to stay where he was.

"In a manner of speaking, yes, however the most interesting topic that we covered was resentment. Do you remember?" He spoke patiently, gently. As quietly as he had done in the early hours of the morning, when nothing had pleased her more than having him whisper into her ear as the sun rose. Lucius had told her time and time again that she was not obliged to whisper in his home, which was sweet, and although he hadn't quite understood that she had considered the hours between night and day to be sacred, he had done his best to oblige her. "It was resentment, Daphne. I told you that in my experience -"

"Women were never honest about it." Daphne could recall the conversation with astonishing clarity, now that he had prompted her.

"Yes. My experience with you has been unlike that of any other woman, and I wonder if that could still hold true. Regardless of the answer to that question, you are unique, my dear, and I am in no position to think less of you because of it." He placed a tentative arm on her shoulder, and Daphne jerked away as though burned, knocking a glass jar from the shelf beside her.

"Reparo." The pieces fitted back together without a single flaw, and she wished that relationships were that easy to fix. "I don't – I don't know, Lucius, and I can't think in here. Meet me in..." She checked her pocket watch, internally calculating how much time she would need. "Meet me in two hours from now at -"

"That restaurant again? I dare say that you're in even more desperate need of a good meal than when I first encountered you, and it would be a most fitting conclusion, wouldn't you agree?" He gave a slight smile, looking more tired than Daphne had ever seen him. She didn't know whether to back away from what was a truly alarming proximity or to allow the tips of her fingers to map the geography of his face, a landscape with which they were more than familiar.

"I honestly don't know." Daphne moved past him, turning back as she voiced the question that had been playing on her mind since she had first caught sight of him in the corridor. "She knows as much as another person can know about you, Lucius, and yet she told me that you wouldn't approach me again. What made you come here today?"

A flicker of surprise passed across his face, its magnitude so great that it could not be concealed. Daphne began to suspect that Narcissa had acted entirely without his knowledge.

"A mixture of reasons; I was curious to see how you've been since we last parted ways, and I wanted to find out for myself if..." Lucius frowned slightly as he considered how best to phrase what he was trying to say.

"If you could have me back?" An acid note entered Daphne's voice. She folded her arms protectively.

"I would have to be deeply stupid to make such an assumption, and more so to have acted upon it. No, I wanted to know that you had managed to recover." He watched her reaction guardedly, and Daphne tried not to show all of the thoughts that were passing through her head.

"What do you think?" Daphne had imagined the dynamic between them would have changed irrevocably, and yet she knew that she could no more fool Lucius that she could herself.

"That you look tired – beautiful, despite being a little worn." He looked her up and down with searching eyes and Daphne knew that she was being given an honest appraisal. "I'd wager that you have managed to divert yourself thus far, although you will probably continue to be angry with me for a very long time."

"I wish that you hadn't done it." It was a spectacularly obvious thing to have said, but it was all that Daphne could think of. She didn't know how she should feel about being so close to the best of the man she had loved, nor did she know what to think about it.

"I'm sorry, Daphne." The silence grew between them, and the noise of the crowds assembled outside of the little room seemed to belong to another world. Tilting his head to the side, Lucius frowned. "You ought to have kept the rubies, you know, even if you didn't care for what it was that they represented; you suit the colour."

Bemused, Daphne gave a choked laugh.

It was exactly the kind of remark that Lucius would make, and its characteristic nature forced her to consider afresh all of the things she had lost when she had left him after that horrible, horrible day.

"I have to go, but I'll see you later." Attempting to compose herself as she went, Daphne stepped back into the hallway and allowed herself to be engulfed by the wave of questions and congratulations directed at her. From the corner of her eye, as she was discussing the inspiration behind her theory with a wizard from Denmark, Daphne saw Lucius slip out of the conference hall unnoticed. Smiling brightly to cover her momentary lapse in concentration, she began to explain what it was that had drawn her to the idea.

She knew that she would keep her word and meet Lucius for dinner, because as much as he had hurt her, Daphne couldn't bring herself to return the favour.

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