AN: Hi everyone, so this is the sequel to If Not for Umbridge. If you've not read it, stop here, go read it, and come back because this will make no sense otherwise. If you have read it, welcome back! Take a seat, make a nice beverage, and hopefully enjoy this first chapter. I am not sure yet how regular updates will be as it's taken me weeks to get this one written, so please bear with me, but I am excited for you all to read what I've got planned and most of all I hope you enjoy! Thank you for all your reviews on the last story, I read them all and try my best to improve as I go.

Chapter One: "She has chosen her side, I am not so sure it is the right one."

Know yourself and the world will follow. Words said by a long since dead pureblood in an effort to distinguish their house, their family. Words, Daphne Greengrass now clung to for dear life. Know yourself. Well, that was something she had to face up to. Who she actually was. The girl who hid in her family's manor was long since dead. The Daphne that stood, well, who was she?

Since Harry had disappeared into the depths of St. Mungo's her entire life was different. After having entered Harry's mind, saw for herself the sheer power of Lord Voldemort and been rocked by the knowledge that a small part of the man who sought to render genocide on an entire part of the world's population lived inside Harry, she had known herself that something vile, something horrid was coming.

But when she had returned to Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione, she had noticed that they were paying attention too. News of Harry's sudden disappearance had been the talk of the school, the papers had said nothing and that, naturally, only meant more speculation. The world was changing. Slowly, but it was there. Fear was creeping in. The Ministry was slowly becoming a shadow of its former self, issuing out assurances but doing very little. Runcorn may not be a Death Eater, but he might as well have been.

Then there was the much more important matter of her own world. Since the last year everything had changed. For the first summer in her life, she would not be returning to Greengrass Manor. Instead, when she had gotten off the Hogwarts Express she had walked to a different family. Her mother had been there, but she hadn't even looked at her. Instead, she had collected Astoria and disappeared from the platform without so much as a backwards glance at Daphne. All part of the act, no doubt, but that didn't mean it hadn't hurt.

The Davis family were kind enough. Welcoming. They smiled and cracked jokes and treated Daphne as though she was a member of the family, only one who could do no wrong. They watched TV, played video games and went to the shops. Life continued, despite the fact that Daphne felt left behind by it.

The summer was well and truly upon them, nowhere near as hot as the last but still scorching to Daphne's continually irritatingly burnt skin. She longed to see Harry outside the confines of St. Mungo's, but until Healers Safiq and Shutter were convinced that he no longer needed their supervision, he was confined to his bed. Given that Safiq was still determinedly trying to figure out, as they were, how to help Harry it was unlikely to be any time soon.

Visiting was not easy. But Daphne cherished the moments she had with him. Harry was slowly becoming himself again, laughing at her jokes and asking questions about what was happening on the outside world. But despite how much of a front she raised that everything was alright, that life was okay, she couldn't help but feel the cracks emerging in the facade she had created. For life was not okay, all she wanted to do was tell him. But after every visit, after every forced conversation and almost truths, she would return to Grimmauld Place and continue to search for answers that did not seem to come.

Those were her days now. Mornings with the Davis', lunch with Harry and then hours upon hours of stale reading, of new books and the same questions. Ron and Hermione would visit Harry in the evenings, with the rest of the Weasleys often joining them where they could. It had been Hermione's idea, a way to give Daphne and Harry some much-needed space. After all, it wasn't a normal relationship and Daphne couldn't thank her enough for that.

That left Daphne and Sirius alone in Grimmauld Place, with the latter becoming almost obsessed with the quest they had set themselves. His hopelessness seemed to have vanished, replaced instead with a furious, burning fire that forced him to continue buying books through Dung and delving into Black family relics. He refused to be beaten.

Day after day the same pattern repeated itself. Tracey, thankfully, did not question where Daphne went, nor did she ask why her best friend returned to their home and almost always go straight to bed. Daphne wanted desperately to tell her, as Ron no doubt did, but both had agreed with Sirius that until they knew what was going to happen they would continue to diligently plough through books and hope against hope that the answer presented itself.

It came, naturally, to Hermione.

"Daphne," the girl said, for Hermione refused to use shortenings of names, "look at this."

Daphne, who had been struggling to focus on the ramblings of a fifteenth-century hag called Margaret the All Seeing, dragged herself from the workspace Sirius had created for her in the Drawing Room and joined Hermione. The Gryffindor girl had made herself a small nest of books, sheltering a large armchair beneath hovering candles Sirius had enchanted. The light flickered, toying with Daphne's shadow and making it appear as though she was looming over Hermione's nestled form.

"It's not exactly the same situation," Hermione began, passing Daphne the old battered book, whose spine looked as though it would collapse from any serious reading. "But I think we could be onto something. We've been thinking of how to destroy the Horcrux, but we can't without…" she paused as Daphne's jaw clenched. "Well, what if we didn't destroy it? What if we just moved it?"

"But this is for," Daphne checked, "Baku? What is a Baku?"

"It's a Japanese name, I suppose the best translation is nightmare eaters," Hermione said, flicking over the page and tapping a small section at the bottom. "Legends say that the baku will come into the child's room and devour the bad dream, allowing the child to go back to sleep peacefully. However, calling to the baku must be done sparingly, because if he remains hungry after eating one's nightmare, he may also devour their hopes and desires as well, leaving them to live an empty life."

"Sounds lovely, but what's this got to do with Harry?"

"They flit from child to child," Hermione explained, "and that got me thinking. What if we just move the horcrux? They go into literally anything, that's how Voldemort could use the diary and Harry. They're not fussy, they just want to be safe. Now," she dragged a very thick, dusty tome from a pile to her right which wobbled dangerously having had its delicate balance unexpectedly disturbed. "This book has all sorts of details on horcruxes, to be honest they're a bit bleak, but there was something somewhere."

She began opening heavy page after heavy page, one particularly nasty one on the nurturing of horcruxes let out a shriek before Hermione slammed into viciously onto the previous page.

"Here," she flattened out the page in question and began running her finger along the lines until she stopped at what she was looking for. "It says: 'for those in dire straits, whose objects have been discovered, fear not there is salvation. Tarasque heartstring, you will need, to complete this loathsome task.' Then it's just a load of nonsense about living after death. Ah, 'Take the heartstring and the blood, of your enemy most foul,' that's Harry, so that should be easy enough, 'form a path and open the door, then your soul will be protected once more.'"

"I got most of that," Daphne nodded, it was after all relatively straight forward. "But what the hell is a Tara… thing?"

"Tarasque," Hermione said, "and that's where it gets tricky. They come from Southern France and there's not very many of them left, I'm not even sure where we'd start looking. They all belong to private collectors now, but it's something!"

Her face was brimming with pride and excitement. Daphne, who had been raised with disappointment around every corner, was only just able to manage to a small smile. A rare, legendary and endangered magical creature and what did they need? It's hair, that'd be easy. Even a toenail or claw would've been good. But no, a heartstring. A bloody heartstring. Why were these things never simple? But Hermione was right, it was a start, and a lot more than they'd had the last few weeks.

"I'll tell Sirius," Daphne said, "And Ron, wait, where is Ron, anyway?"

"At Tracey's, I think," Hermione said, though nowhere near as forlornly as she would have done a few months ago. Since Ron and Tracey had gotten together Hermione had spent more time on herself, no longer longing for the boy who drove her insane. It had been rather endearing to watch while their world revolved around OWLs. God, that felt like a lifetime ago. "I think they're going to the cinema."

"Ron, in a cinema? That'll be fun."

They shared a mental image of Ron in a cinema, no doubt hoping that the images on screen would talk back to smirked, slamming the ruined ancient book shut with a muted scream from its pages. "And what about you? Up to anything fun tonight?"

"Well, mum and dad are at a convention, they go once or twice a year. Dad hates it, but mum likes to go to find out all the new techniques and apparently there are loads of new machines on sale and they're always looking for new stuff," Hermione never really talked about her parents. In the magical world, people who clean teeth for a living were nowhere near as 'interesting' and so she remained quiet. But to Daphne, who had never even heard of dentists until Hermione had told her what it was her parents did, found the whole job rather fascinating.

"So I'll probably just read or something after I visit Harry," Hermione continued as together they headed down the stairs in search of Sirius.

"We could both go?" Daphne offered, although she had already seen him once that day she would never complain at an opportunity to go again. Even if it did twist something inside her as the unsaid truth built more and more in her mind. "Then we could, er, do something?"

Daphne had never been very good at reaching out. Tracey was different. She had essentially mothered her out of a necessity to ensure the poor girl didn't suffocate in their own house, but Hermione was an entirely different prospect. At times intimidating, confusing, superior and also naive, she was a blend of many traits Daphne personally found irritating. Despite all that, she had a good heart and had never once abandoned Harry, a fact which Daphne knew meant a lot to him. So, friends. She could be friendly.

"Really?" Hermione asked, clearly taken aback. Daphne would have been offended if she wasn't well within her rights to be. With OWLs, the DA, her new relationship with Harry and her mother's puzzling behavior, Daphne was the first to admit that she had not exactly done much to reach out.

"If you want?" She responded, as nonchalantly as she could. "We could go to a muggle bar or something before you go back home?"

"Yes," Hermione smiled, almost beamed in fact. "That'd be lovely."

The two made their way downstairs and caught Sirius up on their new discovery, they were just getting to the part where they wondered how they were going to get a heartstring, when there was a knock at the door. Mrs Black erupted again, causing Sirius to bellow in fury and run to see who it was. His fury subsided when it was revealed that Tonks and Lupin had arrived, which explained the inordinately large portion of Shepherd's Pie he had made. Kreacher, having been severely put out by the arrival of yet more witches and wizards, had retreated upstairs, much to Sirius' liking.

"Ah, this is wonderful," Lupin said wistfully as she tucked into his serving. "I never thought I'd see the day where you became an accomplished chef, Sirius."

"This old dog can still learn new tricks yet," Sirius smirked jovially, apparently spurred on by the news Hermione and Daphne had just relayed to him. He let out one of his loud bark like laughs before pouring himself more pumpkin juice.

"I bet Harry'll be chuffed," said Tonks, whose hair was a light purple this time and her face far rounder than Daphne had seen it before. "Gotta be better than what the muggles cook up for him, that kitchen was a nightmare."

"Messy?" Daphne asked, intrigued to hear what Harry's relatives were like despite herself. It wasn't very often that he talked about them, mainly because they were awful people.

"Worse," Tonks grimaced, "clean freaks. Everything was spotless, it was horrible. Made the whole place dead lifeless, you know what I mean?" She shuddered, before saying. "I'm really not sure about this colour."

"Are you ever?" Sirius asking, teasingly. Tonks ignored him and in an instant her hair had turned a vivid shade of pink, causing the auror to grin happily to herself.

"And what're they like?" Daphne asked, steering the conversation back to the Dursleys.

"No idea," Tonks shrugged.

"I'd sooner he lived here," Sirius said, "let's put it that way. You'd have no idea that aunt of his was Lily's sister. Couldn't think of two more different people. She was one of the few people Lily lost patience with and Lily put up with James."

"How is Harry doing?" Lupin asked, he had only been to St. Mungo's once or twice, having been sent on covert operations for the Order, but not so covert that Sirius, who was getting more and more frustrated with Dumbledore, hadn't let slip to Daphne what he was up to. Frier Greyback was busy rustling up muggle hating with the werewolves, so Lupin was trying to undo all his work. It was proving more difficult than they'd anticipated.

"He's not too bad," Daphne said, "frustrated really. I think he wants to get out of there, but Safiq wants him in a bit longer. We're going in a bit actually. After this."

"You should come," Hermione added, "he'd really appreciate it."

"I'm busy I'm afraid," Lupin said, wearily, receiving worried looks from both Tonks and Sirius. It had surprised Daphne that whenever Lupin came calling Tonks would more often than not be there too. Sirius and the others, apart from perhaps Hermione, hadn't noticed a thing but it was as clear as day to Daphne. The way she worried about how she looked was the biggest giveaway. "Dumbledore's orders."

"Me too, Amelia's dragging me and Kingsely in."

"Dumbledore finally told her then," Sirius guessed, earning himself a nod from Tonks.

"Yep, so that'll be fun. Tell you what though, it's getting right depressing at the moment. Runcorn's got all sorts of inter-departmental investigations going on, looking for You Know Who's spies apparently." The sarcasm was so heavy it practically dripped off her words. "'Course, they can't say Dumbledore's people, but that's who they're really after. Probably what Amelia's worried about."

"Well you be careful," Sirius said warningly. "I can't have you and Harry in St. Mungo's."

"I didn't know you cared," Tonks teased, screwing her eyes shut and this time making her hair match Sirius' black mane. Lupin rolled his eyes, but a small smile creased his ever worried face.

Daphne and Hermione finished their food pretty quickly after that, with the latter keeping half an eye on the time. They said their goodbyes and hurriedly crossed the city, making sure to stick together in the underground, which Daphne maintained was unnecessarily confusing having gotten lost twice on her own and ended up in the truly awful and rammed Piccadilly Circus.

They strode through the hospital with practised ease, Daphne not even being morbidly intrigued by the waiting patients and their varied ailments. After a few visits women accidentally breathing fire or men with gnomes magically jammed up their nose were nowhere near as exciting.

When they arrived at the ward, or rather private room, they were greeted as usual by Healer Dalir Safiq, who was looking more tired than even Lupin had done. He was still pleasant and kind and gave them the same warnings about over-exerting Harry, what they could and couldn't mention and how anything related to Voldemort was a no-go area. They listened, nodded and then entered the room.

Harry was propped up on several pillows, nose buried in one of the novels Daphne had gone hunting for in Diagon Alley for. He was becoming more and more intrigued by wizarding literature, having never really had much money for muggle books growing up. Apparently his uncle regarded reading as stupid and so had banned him from doing so, meaning that the main books he'd read were his school textbooks.

He didn't necessarily smile, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes as they entered. The week long psychological trauma had, unsurprisingly, done a number on him. Daphne and Hermione weren't just themselves any more, they were also dead in his nightmares, grieving or hating him for what 'he'd done.'

Hermione, ever the over enthusiastic, hugged him warmly without even a second's warning.

"It's good to see you," she said, as she had done on Daphne's first visit with her and Ron, when she'd finally let him go. "You're looking well, I know I say that all the time but you are. How are you? Are they treating you okay?"

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry intoned, a little dully before Daphne quickly hugged him and gave him a small peck on the cheek. Neither were big fans of snogging in public anyway, but Harry was more withdrawn than ever these days. "Alright, Daph. Didn't think you were coming again today?"

"Change of plans, we're off out, aren't we?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded, rather excitedly. "Mum and dad are away, so Daphne suggested we could do something."

Daphne was being charitable if she described the look on Harry's face as one of surprise, in reality it was downright disbelief.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, go on," Daphne teased, smirking despite herself. He had been rather subdued earlier, so it was fun to see him able to laugh and joke. "You wanna say something, it's fine. You're surprised. I get it. Hanging out with a muggleborn, honestly, what will my mother say."

"I think she'll just add it to the list," Harry poked back, earning himself a mock glower from Daphne.

"True, I haven't been the best daughter," Daphne huffed. "I blame you."

"Me? You're the one that asked me for help."

"And you foolishly gave it," Daphne chided, Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't seem to mind. "I was a good little pure-blood 'til you came along. I was best mates with Malfoy and everything. All of that down the drain, when will I ever be able to hear him complain about how unfair his precious little life is again?"

"My heart bleeds."

"But it's fine, guess I'll make the most of it," Daphne said, winking at Harry before putting her feet up on his bed and stretching out her legs. "Comfy this, no wonder you don't get up."

"I get up."

"Toilet trips don't count."

"I get up sometimes," Harry corrected, before his expression darkened. "Not like there's a lot to do is there?"

"You'll be home soon, promise."

It wasn't easy, lying to him like that. Harry still thought he was being watched in case Voldemort tried to re-enter his mind, but the truth was Safiq had seen no signs of him. If it stayed like that any longer then Daphne wasn't sure who out of the three of them would crack first. With Voldemort not watching why couldn't they tell him? He, out of anyone, deserved to know. He had to.

The words were almost on her lips when Harry sighed, sinking deeper into his pillows and then they were gone, carried away.

"Yeah, back to the Dursleys', wonderful."

"Well, need I remind you that Hermione and I live in the muggle world too. And Surrey's not that far away." Admittedly she wasn't entirely sure how far away anything was from Tracey's house, having grown up in a world of magical travel. But she assumed it wasn't and even if it was, he was worth it. She didn't like the idea of him going back there with nothing to look forward to.

"Trust me, you don't want to meet my aunt and uncle."

"For you, Harry. I think I can manage it," Daphne said, warmly. She wasn't sure whether or not to tell him that as soon as the regulation period he had to spend there was over that she and Sirius had plans to whip him out of Privet Drive as soon as was humanly possible. Although Sirius was tempted to do before and tell the muggles to clear off. She couldn't blame him.

"I'd like to come," Hermione added, "I've never been before."

"There's not a fat lot to do," Harry said, almost guiltily.

"Well then you can entertain us," Hermione said, as if that decided the matter.

"I can give you a tour of all the kids Dudley beats up."

"The more you tell me about him, the more I am convinced your mother was adopted." Daphne commented.

"You wait 'til you meet Uncle Vernon."

"Oh, I can't wait," Daphne said, with a fake smile. "It'll be so much fun. He can talk about, what is it he sells again?"

"Drills," Harry intoned, dully.

"Yeah those, and I can talk about how I can turn him into a cow if he insults you too much. Or I can just say we met in town or something, one of the two."

"The second one might be best, unless you want them to put bars on his windows again."

"You're joking!"

"I'm not, Ron had to rescue him with his dad's flying car," Hermione told her.

"You should've seen his mum's face," Harry grinned, "I've never seen her so angry."

"Let's try and avoid that then, I'd like to see you again before the start of term." She often fantasised about seeing Harry outside of school, outside of the watching eyes of students or the near constant threat that around a corner would be Voldemort's next trap waiting for him. Though the world had accepted he was, basically, back, not much had changed. No muggle deaths filled the Prophet, nor had famous families who pledged themselves to Dumbledore been eliminated. The world was on a knife edge, but until they fell into the abyss below Daphne was determined to take Harry on at least one normal date.

They stayed for another hour or so before the official visiting times were over. Safiq appeared to escort them away, while Shutter did her usual checks of Harry after any major visit. They were trying to figure out if anyone else was watching. Daphne found it rather uncomfortable being in the healer's presence, not least of all because their last major conversation had ended with her screaming at him and storming out of his office. Even her father would have disapproved of that one.

"How long is he going to still be here?" Daphne asked, when the only other occupant of the corridor they were walking down disappeared into a ward.

"I cannot be certain, I'm afraid. My, erm," he checked as Daphne had to make sure they were alone. "Studies have not produced as of yet."

"We might be able to help you there," Daphne said and once they were in the safety of his always stunningly cramped office she and Hermione caught Safiq up on their discovery. As they spoke a quill began furiously taking notes, while Safiq himself excitedly began tapping on his desk, seemingly unable to stay still.

"You really are quite brilliant," he said to Hermione, when she explained how she had put the two ideas together. "Yes, that could work. We would have to examine the effects, of course. Run tests to see how reliant Harry's become on it… but in theory. Excellent. Excellent news. This is wonderful."

"Except from the incredibly rare ingredient none of us can find, sure."

Safiq waved his hand at Daphne's objection, he was far too excited to get bogged down in the details. "I'll begin tests at once. This really is remarkable, thank you. Both of you. I know, I know this can't be easy. But you were right, Daphne. I started this and I'll finish it. I promise."

"Thank you," Daphne said quietly, unable to meet his dark eyes, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

"No problem."

Despite their success, Daphne couldn't help be a little subdued as she and Hermione left the hospital and began their trip back towards the heart of London. The tube was squashed full of tourists, with summer came cameras slung around necks or tucked into pockets. Daphne shifted uncomfortably in her jeans, she much preferred robes. As always, whenever quiet moments came, her thoughts drifted inexorably back to Harry. She didn't like leaving him.

"He'll be okay," Hermione said, reassuringly as they chuntered along in the overstuffed carriage. Further down a woman was making out with her tall boyfriend as they swung dangerously in the middle of the carriage, threatening to fall on a tall man reading his newspaper. Despite having lived with Tracey for weeks, it was still disconcerting not to see the pictures move.

"I know," Daphne lied, just as much to herself as Hermione. She was too logical to really believe it. This was all the unknown and battling against something like that rarely went well the first, second or third time. There were reasons spells were tried out before they were published, reasons why Unspeakables were locked away in the heart of the Ministry. Nobody liked the first attempt.

"That's the thing, being friends with Harry you never do," Hermione said, rather sadly. "But he always gets through it, in the end."

"How do you deal with it? The not knowing."

"You get used to it," her voice betrayed the wavering emotion locked in her chest. "It doesn't stop you worrying, it never will. But if anyone can beat this, it's Harry. And that's what I remind myself. And if I didn't think he could, which I do, I'd still be here. That's what you do, isn't it?"

"Yeah, guess so."

"It's going to be hard, but we'll get there. All of us."

Daphne nodded, her blonde hair falling in her face. She had let it grow far too long, but she didn't have the energy to get it cut. She didn't have the energy for much anymore. Yet here she was, still surviving. She knew countless pure-bloods who'd be terrified to be her. Living exiled from her family, they'd be terrified. But she wouldn't trade it, not for anything. It was what she had to do to keep them safe.

And she wasn't the only one. How much had Hermione had to deal with, how much stress and heartache and worry had she gone through being friends with Harry. Yet, despite it all, she carried on when it would be so much easier just to walk away. But neither of them could, not now, not ever.

"You're a good friend."

Hermione smiled, looking rather proud. "Thank you."

"That's my line."

"You can thank me with drinks later."

"Is now the wrong time to tell you I don't have any muggle money? I'm joking," she added quickly at Hermione's horror stricken expression. "Like I'd let you pay. I've seen what they charge. We went out for Trace's mum's birthday last week, Merlin's beard, it was nuts."

"That's just London."

"Geography shouldn't dictate price."

"When you can travel anywhere in the blink of an eye it doesn't," Hermione said, rather quietly as the announcer told them the train was about to reach their stop. "But here it's a bit different."

"I've noticed," Daphne grimaced, since she was supposed to be playing the part of family exile she had had to nip into Diagon Alley early in the summer to get hold of her savings. She wouldn't be surprised if her mother froze her account and judging by the looks the goblins had given her it wasn't far from that. She had enough to get by, her family had invested well over the years, but the reality of having to depend on herself at fifteen wasn't something she had quite gotten used to.

"Why don't we do something other than drinks?" Hermione asked as the underground train came to a body shuddering halt. The usual throng of people converged on the exit at the exact moment that the passengers on the platform attempted to enter, creating chaos, which in muggle Britain meant quiet outrage as both parties were in the wrong and sulked with the other.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Bowling, mum and dad used to take me all the time. We did it for my birthday," Hermione said, before adding quickly. "We asked people to come but it was the start of the school year so most people were busy."

"19th right?"

"Yes, how did —"

"I make a point of it," smiled Daphne as she and a flabbergasted Hermione were whisked up the escalator towards a semblance of more civilised behaviour. Daphne had to resist jinxing the man in the suit who rudely shoved passed them, almost knowing his own drink into Daphne and tutting at her.

"But sure, why not? Lead the way."

They wound their way through the busy main streets, before Hermione led them to a grossly lit arcade come bowling alley. The woman on the till allocated them a lane and gave them new shoes — much to Daphne's confusion and annoyance when a spotty teenager not much older than she was shouted at her for going towards their lane with her own shoes on.

"What are those?" Daphne asked sceptically, pointing down the polished, gleaming lane to a triangle of wooden objects standing seemingly defiantly at the bottom. She wasn't entirely sure how they managed it but they were definitely defiant. Like they wanted to be hit.

"They're called pins," Hermione explained as she typed half of her own name into the board. "It doesn't fit mine," she explained as Daphne quirked an eyebrow.

"How considerate."

"I'll just put you as 'Daph'," she said, before hitting a green button and causing a whirlwind of graphics to appear. A giant ball split one of the pins exploded and the word 'begin' span around it and popped, revealing a scoreboard.

"So, the rules," Hermione proceeded to explain that bowling was exactly what Daphne suspected it was. Throw the balls at the pins and try and knock them all down. There were various sizes, colours and weights depending on what you wanted, awaiting them. There was something called a strike and spare, although Daphne was fairly certain she'd get neither, but getting one somehow meant your score was more than 10?

"Just throw, it's more roll really, but hard," Hermione said, when Daphne asked for the second time how the scoring worked. "The computer figures out the scores, look."

She picked up an orange ball that was as garish as the Chudley Cannons kit and turned to the lane. After a small run, she swung back her arm and kicked out a leg as she half-threw, half-rolled the ball almost entirely straight down the lane causing all the pins to cascade away into the blackness beyond.

"But you didn't get anything," Daphne frowned, looking at a giant 'x'.

"That's because it adds it on next time," Hermione explained, "it's because of the strike."

"Why are muggle games so confusing?" Daphne moaned, remembering the countless hours Tracey had spent already that summer trying to teach her the various video games and the catastrophe that had been a family session of 'Risk'.

"Quidditch isn't exactly easy to follow," Hermione commented, before selecting out a green ball for Daphne. "Here, try this. It's a bit lighter than mine, but for your first go it's probably good to get used to."

"Just roll and throw," Daphne repeated. Yeah, easy. Nice and simple. Just throw. Sort of. All around her the cacophony of obnoxiously loud pop songs and balls hitting pins drowning out the hammering of her heart. Why was this so nerve-wracking? She glanced back at Hermione, but she was very deliberately looking at the menu provided on the small table and refusing to ogle. Daphne swallowed. Throw. Surely that would be… she watched horror-stricken as her ball, which had intended to go sailing down the lane careened wildly off to the left and sunk in the gutter.

"How are you so good at this?" Daphne demanded, gaping as her ball slowly rolled away from her.

"Lots of practise," Hermione admitted. Daphne glowered at her. "What? I like bowling. I'll see if they can put the sides up, that should help."

"You mean there's a way to avoid doing that?"

Hermione laughed, "dad did the same to me, sorry. I couldn't resist."

"You wait until I get good at this," Daphne jokingly seethed, choosing another ball at random and nearly dropping it on her foot as she was taken off guard by its incredible weight. "I did say until."

Once the sides, which turned out to be metal poles from the ground, were erected Daphne was able to luck her way to at least some points. Hermione, obviously, managed to blitzed almost every round leaving her with points in the triple figures while Daphne managed a measly 50. Pride wounded, but nevertheless still having fun, they ordered burgers and chips and Daphne paid for a rematch. And another. And another.

Because it turned out that outside of a classroom or a library and without the pressures of exams, Hermione was actually quite fun to hang out with. They talked about everything, school, muggle life, their favourite books, the differences of growing up in the muggle world compared to the magical. It appeared that Hermione, despite being best friends with Ron, had even more questions than Daphne.

By the time they had finished the bowling alley was almost closing and when they had gotten back to Grimmauld Place darkness had well and truly fallen. Sirius, ever the model role model, simply asked if they'd had fun and ignored the lateness of the hour. Whether it was because he was more than a few firewhiskeys deep or because he didn't care, Daphne wasn't sure. Whatever the reason, it was nice to not be nagged.

In fact, the closest Daphne got to complaining was from Tracey when she finally managed to floo back to her home in Summerset Drive. She was curled up on the sofa, beneath the pool of electric light generated by a tall lamp which craned over her head.

"You're back late," Tracey commented, not looking up from her game. It was something called a Game Boy, which according to Tracey was the must have console. Daphne didn't get it, but had entertained her friend as she had dragged her around the town centre to look at it only a week earlier.

"Out with Hermione," Daphne yawned, collapsing into the armchair the Davis family had essentially given her. They had slotted into a strange kind of normality, a fact which unsettled Daphne more than it should. This house was more homely than the one she'd left behind and part of her, in fact the majority, felt guilty for enjoying it.

Far across the country, another Greengrass was thinking of the past, but unlike her sister there was no guilt. There wasn't even anger. Merely a sense of longing and hope that one day soon those days would return, but knowing deep down that they would never come again.

Greengrass Manor stood quiet. Melissa Greengrass attended functions, entertained friends and kept up the facade of the callus pureblood mother, no longer caring for the daughter she had disowned. Inside the house, well, that was different. The two of them had stopped speaking, Melissa withdrawing to the study or the drawing room for hours at a time. Astoria retreated to the grounds, sketching the various trees and the beauty of nature, hoping to find the joy she craved in the home that was at risk of dying before her eyes.

She wanted to hate Daphne, perhaps like Daphne had done to her for so many years. The difference was Astoria was never the one to give up, nor was she deluded enough to think that her sister's choice had been easy. Being Harry Potter's girlfriend painted a target on your back, and of those you loved. Pretending to despise her family, to cut herself off was their best shot at being protected. It was either that or leave and Astoria knew her mother would sooner die than flee her husband's ancestral home.

Know yourself. Well, Astoria knew who she was and what role she had to play. But as the days dragged out and the nights stayed empty, she was left to wonder if it was she could fulfil.

These musings gripped her as the figures walked up the driveway. They wore black cloaks and strode towards the house with purpose, but even from her vantage point on the lawn Astoria recognised them. The Malfoys. Abandoning her canvas, she hurried up the towards the house as quietly as she could. Gravel seemed to crunch loudly beneath her feet and her heart sounded to her as though it was hammering loudly for everyone to hear. But none of them turned round, not even Draco who stood ramrod straight behind his face who was regarding the Greengrass estate with disdain.

"Take a look, Draco," Lucius drawled, as Astoria, bent double, hid at the bottom of the wide staircase that led to the gardens. The house illuminated the Malfoys in almost perfect clarity, while the shadows cast by the low wall almost entirely obscured Astoria from view. At least she hoped they did. "This is what you should never let our house become."

"Yes, father." Draco said, stiffly. He looked more scared than Astoria had ever seen him at school. A frail imitation of the boy that commanded so much respect, or at least fear, in the Common Room they shared. Lucius hit the door loudly with his cane and Astoria used the noise to creep closer, gripping onto the cold stone so as not to fall over.

"The late Lord Greengrass was as pathetic as his daughter," Lucius said loudly, clearly not concerned if Melissa heard him. "Cavorting with muggleborns, lining his pockets with their galleons. Pathetic, pity his wife chose so poorly. She, at least, is... respectable."

"Couldn't control the girl though, could she, Lucius?" The third figure, Astoria guessed to be Narcissa, commented bitterly. The implication made Astoria's skin crawl.

"True," Lucius conceded, rapping on the door with his cane for a second time. "Perhaps Rookwood simply did not give her enough of an incentive."

"The Dark Lord's work should be incentive enough," Draco chimed in, his lip curling in a manner so spookily like her father that for a moment they almost appeared to be mirror images of one another.

Lucius was spared answering by the door opening.

"Ah, Melissa," Lucius said smarmily, as though he hadn't just been discussing the failings of the woman and her family so casually with his own. "I was beginning to grow… concerned."

"I was not expecting guests," Melissa answered easily, ignoring the implicit insinuation of guilt. Lucius probably thought she was harboring Daphne. Was that what they were here to check? "Did my brother send you? Or perhaps your master?" Astoria couldn't see his face, but she recognised the tightening of her mother's lips to know well enough that he was smirking.

"Allow me to save you some time, I do not know where Daphne is, nor am I in contact with her."

"Yes, it must be difficult, very difficult I'm sure."

Melissa didn't even blink. "We were never very close," she intoned, coolly. "Now, if that's all?"

"We didn't come for her. No, I am rather more interested in your other daughter."

Astoria felt herself freeze. Even the pounding of her heart seemed to die. Her, they wanted her?

"What about her?"

"You made an allegiance yourself, a long time ago," Lucius began, "I had wondered if her own journey had been decided yet and if we may be able to make a suitable suggestion?"

This could not be happening. In the shadows of the garden, questions were sailing through Astoria's mind and none of them found good answers. Her gaze fell on Draco, who was keeping his features deliberately impassive. No wonder he looked so scared. Had his father forced him into it? Would her mother? She watched as Melissa's gaze flicked to Draco, who was being closely guarded by his mother.

"Parkinson won't be happy," Melissa noted, as though they were talking about buying a broomstick, not the future of their children.

"Parkinson is a fool," Lucius said dismissively, "and there would be advantages for both of us. You must admit, your family name is a little… tarnished. First your husband and then your daughter, people are already talking. People in all the wrong circles."

"We have survived worse than whispers, Lucius."

"And yet I fear they may become more than whispers."

"Until then I would let Astoria choose her own path," Melissa answered and for a moment Astoria could have sworn that her mother's eyes flicked towards her. Seeming to find her in the gloom. "That is not to say I do not appreciate your offer, it is merely not the time."

"Be careful, Melissa, that your time does not run out."

There was another conversation, beneath the talk of marriages that did not go unnoticed by Astoria or Melissa. Neither witch was a fool. Melissa simply nodded, bade her farewells and watched as the Malfoy's retreated from her property. She did not return to the house, instead the doorway framed her until the footsteps of the Malfoys had long since died away. Then, without warning she spoke.

"You can come out now."

Astoria stood from the crouch that had been causing her knees to burn and regarded her mother. Both schooled their features, Astoria a little slower than her mother.

"I thought as much," Melissa said, simply. Too slow it turned out. Damn. If she had been Daphne that comment would have been met with a bitten retort. Maybe a comment about how stupid Draco was, or perhaps she'd have called him revolting. But Astoria wasn't her sister and while everything Daphne would have said was right, she knew better than to taunt her mother.

"Would you?"

"No," Melissa answered, "but he is right, our time may yet run out. We must be careful, Astoria. The Malfoys may yet provide protection against what is to come."

"So you're saying I should?" Astoria couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

"I am saying consider it," Melissa said, not unkindly. "Your life is your own, as Daphne's is hers. I will not stand in either of your way, but I will advise you on where best to place yourself for what is to come. She has chosen her side, I am not so sure it is the right one."

It was the first time Daphne's name had been said all summer. The first time either of them had discussed the daughter Melissa pretended not to have. Yet even as the name escaped her mother's lips, Astoria knew it wouldn't do so again.

"They kill people."

"My dear, it is never that simple. Think on it, I have already buried your father. I will not bury both of you too."