Chapter Eleven: Daphne's Decision

The bed was warm and comfortable, sunlight crept into the room through thin curtains but Daphne kept her heavy eyes shut for as long as she could. Tracey had patched up her finger as best as she could, . Eventually Daphne would let herself be taken to St. Mungo's, just as soon as the face of Hayley McAlister vanished from the back of her mind.

The memories of exactly what had happened were fuzzy and distant. Every time that Daphne tried to pin them down they would scatter, only to form again darker and larger than life in her mind whenever she tried to sleep. She'd already had to promise Tracey that she was fine once, although given the look on her best friend's face, Daphne assumed that she'd been screaming. The only thing she did know was that both she and Harry had been idiots not to realise what McAlister would do. Looking back it was obvious. Hindsight was, as they said, a wonderful thing. Daphne was just glad she still had it.

Gingerly, Daphne adjusted her glass-shredded hand in the Murtlap essence that Nathan had fetched for her. There hadn't been many shops open, but somehow he'd managed to find some. The cuts were starting to heal and the pain had died away, becoming just another memory. That's what all this would be one day, Daphne kept telling herself. Just a memory.

Her introspection was interrupted when the door to Tracey's spare room was opened and the woman herself walked in. She was carrying a mug of tea and doing her best to make her small smile seem genuine.

"How're you feeling?" she asked once she'd set the mug down and taken a perch at the end of the bed.

"Okay. My hand still kind of hurts, but you did a good job."

"Yeah? I mean, you were guiding me the whole way so I can't really take all the credit."

"Still, thank you."

"It's okay, what're friends for, right?" Awkwardly it was Daphne's turn to try and force her grin to seem real. It didn't work. "What were you doing? What did you do for this to happen?"

Daphne didn't want to tell her, but even as she tried to think of a way to weasel out of admitting what she'd been wrapped up in, she knew she couldn't. Tracey had a right to know, just as she had a right to react the way that Daphne knew she would.

"You remember me telling you about that Wedgewood guy, the one that Harry thought they'd locked up on dodgy evidence. Well, it seems they did and we think we found out who really did it. So last night we confronted her. I mean, it was weird Trace, she practically admitted it but she knew we couldn't prove anything. She's insane and has this weird obsession with making people suffer by taking away what they love."

"And so she came after you." It wasn't a question, but Daphne nodded anyway.

"If it hadn't been for Alex I'd be dead," Daphne said, giving the realisation that she'd had in the hours she'd been left to heal a voice. "He's been seeing someone else. It's been going on a few months I think. I kicked him out, but I couldn't sleep and then when that bitch got there…"

She trailed off, the events were still too fresh, still made her heart race and fear cause bile to rise at the back of her throat.

"Wait, he – what?"

"Yeah. Apparently we've not been seeing enough of each other or something."

"And that means it's okay to go and shag someone else?" Tracey's voice shook with anger. "That fucking weasel. God, Daph, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Daphne said automatically, "well, no, it's not; but it will be. I will be. In a weird way I'm kind of glad he was, if he hadn't…"

"That nutter would've killed you," Tracey finished.

Daphne didn't say anything. There was nothing she could say. Tracey had been right all along. The worst part was, if she was really, truly honest with herself, then Daphne knew she would do it again. What she'd had with Harry the last few days had made her feel alive, and it was only because she'd started working with him that she had realised she'd been unhappy this entire time. There was nothing like a near-death experience to make someone question their life choices, Daphne had come to realise.

"I told you not to get involved with this guy, Daph. You're a healer for God's sake and you really could've been killed, like actually killed. This isn't a game anymore. I know it was a bit a fun, something different and you felt great and all that, but you could've died and it's his fault."

"No, it's not. Neither of us saw it coming."

"But he should know better, he's been doing this for years. I knew something like this would happen." She sighed, running a hand through her long hair. Her eyes, which had been so fixed on Daphne's, darted to the floor. "Look, I didn't want to tell you this, but a few weeks ago I went to see Sirius Black."

"You did what?" Daphne asked incredulously.

"I wanted to know more about Potter, ; I thought you might get hurt, I was worried about you and I think we can both agree I was right to be."

"So you thought it'd be a good idea to go talk to Black?"

"I was worried, okay? Is that such a crime? And before you say anything else, just listen, okay?" After a somewhat curt nod, Tracey continued, "I went there to try and find out if Black knew Potter, better than we did back then anyway. All I got was a vague impression of him, they don't talk and I kind of think Black blames himself. He tried to talk me into letting you make your own choice and support you, even though I might not agree. I tell you, when I left, I hated that. I wanted to ignore him and try and talk you out of it, but then I thought maybe he was right."

"You thought?" Daphne asked, noting the past tense.

"Yeah, but I don't know, after this, what am I supposed to think? I couldn't lose you and seeing you like that, it was… horrible. I don't know if I can just sit by and let you do that to yourself."

"I'm fine –"

"But you might not have been, not you, or Black, or Potter, can promise me you'll be safe."

"No," Daphne admitted. Her heart felt heavy but even as much as she wanted to look away, she kept her eyes firmly on Tracey. Had her friend told her this a week ago, or even days ago then Daphne knew she would've flown of the handle and with good reason. After the last few hours though, she could finally appreciate where it was Tracey had always been coming from. Even if she didn't agree.

"But I wouldn't change it."

"Seriously? After all this, you wanna carry on." There was a pause routed only in the hesitancy of confirmation. "Do you?"

"Yeah, I do." Daphne admitted. "Alex hated it, Merlin, mum's going to. I couldn't stand it if you did too."

Later Daphne would look back on this moment and try and pretend that she knew what was going to happen. Every time, she knew it was a lie. Never in her life had she been so unsure of the future. She had always made plans, lived with a strict sense of direction and ambition. But that had changed. She wanted more. Needed more. Only, she wasn't sure if she could do it without her best friend by her side.

"Why?"

"I don't know, you're right I could've died and that should be putting me off forever, but it isn't. What we do, it helps people. It matters. I don't think I can walk away from that. Harry's going to find her, he'll prove what she did and if he can't, well, I guess attempted murder is a good a start as any."

Tracey didn't say anything. She just nodded, looked away and sighed. Then she got to her feet and walked to the door. Time seemed to drag for a moment as Daphne was faced with the very real possibility of losing one of the few people she loved over a lack of understanding. She wanted to say something, but every thought vanished from her mind, fleeing like a killer at the sight of a Dementor.

But then the door opened and Tracey disappeared, for only a few seconds before coming back, a man by her side. His face was tight and his fingers twitched. His eyes darted around the room, taking in everything as they always did. He didn't smile, but he never did. He just stood there.

"I'll give you two some time," was all Tracey said before she left the room again.

He didn't sit down. He wasn't the type. Sitting meant staying and he hated awkward situations. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. When he eventually did it was with a kind of hesitancy that Daphne had never heard him use before.

"I – I wanted to say that I am sorry," Harry said, very slowly and deliberately, slightly falling over his words despite himself. "For this." He gestured to the bed, to the hand that had been wrapped in bandages. "I am, in no small part, at fault for placing you in a position in which you could harmed. You have my sincerest apologies. It was never my intention."

"I know."

"It seems she," disgust practically dripped from the word, "knows me better than I do," Harry confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she goes after people because of their relationships; that sense of importance which people place on others. I did not think she would attack, not because you are unimportant but because I did not realise it was so clear." He nodded nervously, a slight tick. This was hard for him. "Our work, what we have accomplished over the last few weeks has been… good. You, I believe, will become an excellent investigator and my process is… improved, by your company."

"Harry -" He held up a hand.

"But I would understand if you feel that you cannot carry on." He continued, she let him, he needed to say it. "I am aware of Miss Davis' feelings towards me, and they are well founded."

"I don't care," Daphne said quickly, unable to stop herself. "Truth is, I don't want to stop. You're right, we're good together. Most of the time."

"I am sorry for that also," their little spat after he'd lost his temper at McAlister. Had he not then maybe Daphne would have gone home with him. Maybe she wouldn't. It wasn't worth thinking about. Change wasn't always good.

"You should be, if we're going to keep doing this you can't do that, okay? You can't just use me when you want and then ditch me. That's not how this works."

He nodded.

"Did you catch her?" Daphne asked eventually.

"Yes, Hopkins has her custody. Her trophies have been found, if estimations are correct Joseph Wedgewood should be free by the morning.

"Good, that's really good. Reckon he'll be okay?"

"There are several services currently designed to assist in a post-Azkaban adjustment. I will ensure he is given the best treatment." Harry said, his eyes flicking again to Daphne's injured hand. "On the topic of treatment, I suggest you get that seen to."

"Tracey did a good job."

"She is no healer," Harry noted.

Neither am I, was what Daphne wanted to say. It was something she was ready to admit to herself. Her job, the one she had always dreamed of and had failed to meet her hopes, wasn't for her. Not anymore. She was going to have to resign. She didn't even know how. She'd never had to resign from anything before in her life. Did people write letters? How did that conversation even go? It was always going to be one sided disappointment, and Daphne hated being a disappointment – it was why she'd been a Slytherin all those years ago. It was expected. But was it right for her?

"I'll go soon, promise."

"Do," Harry said, a softness to his voice. "I had better return to Hopkins. I am sure he could do with some assistance, but I shall inform you when I require yours."

"Okay," Daphne smiled. She wasn't sure if she was imagining it, or if it was the worrying amount of different pain potions Tracey's fiancée had fed her, but Daphne was almost certain that she saw those lips want to do the same.

"You can do better, you know?" Harry said when he got the door.

"I'm sorry?"

"Than the philanderer."

"What?"

"Philanderer, it means –"

"I know what it means," Daphne snapped shortly, she couldn't help it, "you knew?"

"Yes, but whilst I may have known his true character I did not know how best to tell you. Apparently it is rather difficult to upset a friend."