"So you're the witch responsible for this ruckus."

"Professor Moody? Professor Lupin?" Daphne was taken aback, recognizing two of the three figures waiting at the base of the stairs. "You're protecting Harry?"

"Aye, we're but two of many. Now it's your turn - who are you, and what are you doing here?"

She shot a confused look to Harry, and he leaned in to whisper, "He wasn't our teacher Fourth Year. It's a long story." Raising his voice, he spoke to the three people waiting in the Dursley's entryway. "This is Daphne Greengrass. She's a friend, she came to visit me."

"You know why you're here, Harry. And you know why she can't stay," said Professor Lupin.

"I don't see why you think you can dictate who comes and goes from this home," Daphne replied, trying to force as much authority into her voice as possible.

The three men shared glances of amusement, then returned their focus to Harry. "Let's not make this difficult. We'll take Miss Greengrass to Diagon Alley and allow her to Floo home from-"

"Absolutely not," Harry interrupted, moving a step in front of her, as though to block their access. "I'm not letting you take her back there."

"Be reasonable! Even if you weren't who you are, there's no way we could allow the teenage daughter of someone like Cecil Greengrass stay here unsupervised!"

"You can hardly say we're unsupervised when you have him under constant surveillance," Daphne pointed out. "If Harry wants me to stay, I'm staying."

Professor Lupin aimed a plaintive stare at Harry, but she could tell by the tightening of his jaw and the tensing of his shoulders that Harry's mind was made up. The shabbily dressed man let out a great sigh, then raised his wand.

"Very well. Expecto Patronum!" A ghostly, spectral wolf emerged and after a brief mutter from their old DADA instructor, it shot through the ceiling at lightning speed. "We'll let the Headmaster sort this out. Shall we adjourn to the sitting room?"

Their odd troupe settled into the shabby and cheap muggle furnishings of the Dursley home. Daphne sat next to Harry on a loveseat, drawing her robes around herself as tightly as she could in order to minimize her contact with anything those disgusting muggles may have dirtied with their filth. The others filed past them to occupy the other seats in the room.

As the third, heretofore silent man walked by, though, the pungent scent of whiskey filled her senses. "You're the one that was outside! You were asleep!" The man jumped at her accusation, pulling a hood up over his shaved head. "Some 'watchers' you are! Do you even know what goes on in here? How they treat Harry?"

"Daphne…" Harry murmured. "Leave it alone."

"It's not right!"

"We had a word with his relatives about how they treat him. They know there'll be consequences if they step out of line," Moody said. "I trust there's been no problems since you got back, Potter?"

"No. It's been better. They've ignored me and I ignore them."

What was he saying? The muggles locking him in his room was an improvement? If that was the case, how did they treat him before? Why hadn't someone done something sooner? She opened her mouth, prepared to continue that line of questioning but a hand squeezed her leg. Harry's hand, warning her off.

An uncomfortable silence fell over them. Eventually, Lupin cleared his throat. "So, how have you been, Miss Greengrass?"

Harry snorted, apparently amused at his attempt at inane chatter. "It was a, um, an educational year, sir," she eventually answered.

"I'm surprised to see you here. The last time Harry mentioned you to me, I hadn't thought you two were so close," he said.

"A lot's happened since then," Harry muttered, and Daphne watched the same grief she'd seen on his face in the Astronomy Tower wash over the both of them.

"I miss him, too, Harry. But remember what-" A crack sounded from outside, and they all turned at the sound of the front door opening.

"Where's Albus?" Moody asked as Professor Snape stalked into the Dursleys' sitting room. "No one summoned you, Snape."

"And yet, here I am. Since this mystery is apparently beyond your capability to solve, I was with the Headmaster when Lupin's Patronus arrived. I can see your reputation as a brilliant auror was well-deserved. The corps must sorely regret your retirement."

Daphne hid a smile behind her hand. Harry likely wouldn't appreciate it, given how he was glaring at her Head of House. "Severus, really, is that necessary?"

"I should be asking you that, Lupin. You interrupted us in the midst of critically important business, forcing me to come and deal with teenage nonsense less than twelve hours after the end of the term."

"We neither asked nor wanted you to come," Moody growled.

"Then we're all in agreement, and can trust… Fletcher, I'm guessing, to complete his watch while the rest of us leave Potter and Greengrass to enjoy the muggle luxuries around us."

"Wait, you want to let her stay?! What does Albus think about this?"

Snape's sneer widened. "I already told you I was with him. You think I care enough about how Potter spends his summer holiday to come and argue with you? I speak for the Headmaster. If you don't like his decisions, take it up with him. Goodnight." With a swirl of his robes, Snape turned on his heel and left, his disapparition sounding a moment later.

"Well," Daphne said, once everyone's surprise had abated, "Harry and I would like to retire for the evening. I trust you can see yourselves out."

"You- this is where you live?"

Harry seemed to bristle at her incredulousness, but Daphne couldn't even pretend to feign anything but disgust. This room was hideously small; what little furnishings there was were worn, heavily used.

It was almost more offensive than the locks on the door. Her whole life, Daphne had known nothing but luxury, her parents providing nothing less than the highest quality of life. She was, of course, aware that her family's wealth wasn't the norm. Even still, to see with her own eyes the way muggles live, to see Harry live in such squalor… it was shocking.

Harry cleared his throat, and she realized she'd been staring at her surroundings for more than a minute. "Sorry, it's just-" She cut herself off, not knowing how to finish that sentence.

Maybe he understood what she couldn't say, or perhaps he simply wanted to move the conversation forward. "So, I figured you could sleep here, and I'll take the sofa-"

"Absolutely not!" She eyed the mattress, unknown stains visible through the frayed and worn sheets. "I am not going anywhere near that rancid thing."

"Okay, well, then you can sleep downstairs, and I'll stay up here."

"Never!" She knew she'd never get a wink of sleep, being so exposed down there, all alone. "You can't expect me to stay down there! Who knows what those muggles might do to me!"

"So you won't sleep here, you won't sleep there. My aunt won't let you sleep in the guest room. What's left?"

She sighed. It was late, and it had been an exhausting day. Fighting with Pansy, the long broom flight, dealing with muggles and former professors. His blankets looked serviceable, adequately thick. "I'll sleep on the floor, and you can take the bed."

"Wha- you mean, you want to sleep in the same room?"

Daphne sniffed. "I can hardly be left in such a vulnerable position around muggles. Besides, it's perfectly innocent."

"Right," he squeaked. "Well, the bathroom is over here."

His family must have locked themselves in their rooms while she and Harry confronted his watchers so, thankfully, she didn't have to interact with them as she completed her night-time routines. Daphne slipped the massive, oversized t-shirt over her head, grimacing at the feel of the old, threadbare fabric. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten to have one of the adult wizards unshrink her trunk for her. If her roommates could see her now, she thought with a grin; only for that expression to melt away to a frown as she locked eyes on her own reflection.

The cold rag Harry used on her cheek had reduced the swelling, but an ugly bruise remained. There would be no denying it next year. Pansy was sure to tell everyone who'd listen, and from that moment on, life would become very unpleasant for her. Earlier this year had been hard; shunned by her roommates and friends was one thing, but she never felt in real danger.

Now, though… the Wizarding World had changed.

She looked awful, and had no way of changing that fact. Daphne was bone-tired, and allowed herself to be grateful that she had the excuse of being unable to access her things. Tomorrow when she had her cosmetics and potions, she'd use every trick she'd learned over the last six months to leave Harry speechless, but tonight she simply wanted to sleep.

When she entered the bedroom, Harry was sitting on his bed, a piece of parchment in his hand.

"Who's that from?"

"Ron and Ginny. Just checking in on me."

"Checking in already? They saw you earlier today!" Merlin, couldn't she have any time with him that was solely her own?

Harry folded the letter back up, but kept it in his hands. "He's making sure I know he's there for me. Last summer, he and Hermione- they weren't all that, um- they didn't exactly stay in touch. I was sore at them for a while about it."

Daphne's gaze flicked between the letter in his hands and his face, taking in the protective way he held it, hearing what he wasn't saying. "I guess being stuck here, your connection with your friends is pretty important, huh?"

"Yea. Yea, it is." He stared at her for several heartbeats before he spoke again. "You want to give your 'bed' a try?"

Daphne settled onto the piled blankets, feeling his eyes on her the whole time. "Is it that bad?"

"What? Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I'm not talking about my sleeping arrangement. I know what boys say. I've heard Zabini say it, when he's bragging about his conquests to the other boys. 'Take home a slag, wake up with a hag', isn't that how it goes?" Harry didn't respond. "So? Do I measure up, now that you've seen me without my 'face' on?"

Harry reached over to the muggle light next to his bed, extinguishing it with a click. She heard some rustling, then a creak of the floorboards. Was he- had he got out of bed? She listened intently, wishing her eyes would hurry up and adjust to the darkness. More rustling, then the sound of the mattress moving beneath his weight.

"I think you're pretty, with or without makeup," he eventually said. "I need to get some sleep, I have a lot to do tomorrow."

She was trapped, like someone had put her under a petrification curse. It was dark, but Daphne could tell she was outside because it was raining. The water was warm, thick, sliding down her skin in slimy trails. Why couldn't she move?

Where was Harry? Where was she?

"Hem-hem."

Her eyes widened, her jaw involuntarily dropped. It couldn't- it wasn't possible!

"Hem-hem. What's the matter, dear?"

Daphne tried to move, tried to scream out that this was a trick, that it couldn't be real, that SHE couldn't be real. All that came out was a low moan.

A light appeared, shining steadily from the wand held in squat, sausage-like fingers. "There now, isn't that better?"

She was in the Forbidden Forest. It wasn't raining; with the light shining down, Daphne could see now that it wasn't water dripping down on her, but blood. Above her, heavy features shadowed in the light, was a giant. The corpse's massive head was resting against the tree above her, so large that the trunk was actually leaning under its weight.

"There were so many foul creatures infesting the forest, but they've all been taken care of," Umbridge said, plodding forward on her short, stubby legs. "All but one."

The Headmistress stepped fully into Daphne's line of sight. "What's the matter, Miss Greengrass? Kneazle got your tongue? Surprised to see me?"

Daphne strained every muscle in her body, desperate to move, to escape, to get away. But no matter how hard she tried, her body refused her commands, uselessly lying on the ground, dark, inky blood continuing to rain down.

Umbridge paused a few paces away. "I think I understand your confusion. Perhaps this will jog your memory," she said, reaching up with her free hand.

Before Daphne's eyes, she started peeling off the skin of her face, revealing charred, blackened tissue underneath. To Daphne's growing horror, Umbridge kept pulling off pieces of skin, the meat sloughing off her bones with ease while she cackled all the while. Dry, leathery chunks of her fell onto Daphne, the smell of burnt flesh filling her nostrils.

"Starting to look more familiar?" Umbridge asked, her exposed skull forming a mad grin as she reached out -

"Daphne!"

She was struggling to breathe, gasping over and over, but no matter how many times she inhaled, it was like her lungs weren't working. She could feel Umbridge's thin, bony fingers gripping her arms, holding her down-

"Daphne! It's okay, you're okay!"

But… wait, Umbridge didn't have thin fingers. She relaxed, giving up the fight, going limp beneath the weight holding her down. The hands holding her eased their grip, and she raised her own trembling hand, feeling soft, unmarred skin rather than dry, burnt flesh. "Harry?"

"You were having a nightmare," he said softly.

The hand that traced his features locked onto the back of his neck, and Daphne pulled herself off the floor, wrapping her arms around him and quietly sobbing against the crook of his neck. He was warm, and strong, and real.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

How could she? How could she tell him what it was that traumatized her so? Harry could never understand what she'd done, would never look at her like he had-

"Daphne?"

"Just- just hold me. Please," she begged. "Please don't let me go."

He slowly rocked her back and forth, allowing her to cry against him. They stayed like that, sitting together in the darkness, until her tears dried up and her breathing evened out.

"I'm sorry," she said, sniffing and wiping at her eyes. "I- I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright. I know what it's like. Are you feeling a little better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

He gave her one last squeeze before he loosened his hold. "It was nothing, I didn't do anything-"

"No," she said, more firmly, maintaining her own grip. "Really - thank you."

For another few moments she held onto him, but when he pulled his arms back she let him go, and he climbed back into bed. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'm fine, go back to sleep."

"I'm here if you need me."

"I'm all right, really."

Daphne, wide awake after her nightmare, lay in the darkness, listening to the occasional foreign noises outside in the muggle neighborhood. Above her, Harry tossed and turned every once in a while, but after several minutes went still, his breathing evening out as he fell asleep.

In an attempt to take her mind off her nightmare, Daphne ran through the rest of her night in the muggle house. Her plan had worked perfectly - well, there was a fair amount of luck on her side, what with Professor Snape offering unexpected assistance, but everything else had played out exactly as she'd hoped.

They were growing closer, Harry and her. She knew the deception, about going to Pansy's, wouldn't last for long. She was going to have to put what time she had with him to good use.

Harry was… lonely. It was a surprise, but adding that context to her prior impressions of Harry shed a new light on how he acted, who he was. The way he held the letter from Ron, like it was priceless; that, along with his admission that his friends' silence last year put a strain on their relationship spoke volumes. The letters were his lifeline, his escape from whatever horrors these muggles inflicted on him.

Another memory tickled the back of her mind. He'd done something after he'd extinguished the lamp. He'd gotten out of bed, but he hadn't gone far. She closed her eyes, summoning the memory of the sounds he made. Something with the floorboards, wasn't it?

Rolling over, she carefully slid towards his bed, wincing at every sound she made. Daphne extended her arms, feeling along the floor until she felt it. There! The edge of one of the floorboards was elevated, raised as though it were loose. She braced herself with one arm, readying her other to pull it up, but it gave without any effort at all.

There was a depression there, a space that Harry obviously used as a hiding spot, judging by the feel of it. With a quick glance to make certain he was still asleep, Daphne started to withdraw items, taking her haul with her back to her makeshift bedding.

It wasn't until she made it back that she realized the issue. It was too dark to make much sense of what she'd found. Some things she could easily identify by feel and silhouette - his wand, for example, several folded pieces of parchment that were likely correspondence. The rest, though, were indistinguishable shadows. She'd need to see them in the light if she was going to make any sense of it.

Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen in his bedroom, not unless she was willing to wake him up to go through his things with her. There was no choice - she'd have to venture out into the rest of the house.

Bundling Harry's things in her arms, Daphne crept out of his room, closing the door as silently as she was able. The bathroom was right across the hall, and had a bright light right above the mirror.

Once inside, though, she found herself at a loss as to exactly how to light the muggle lamp. How had Harry done it in his bedroom? He'd clicked something near where the light emerged. Daphne felt all around the lamp, awkwardly standing on her tip-toes, but the blasted thing simply wouldn't turn on.

"Stupid bloody muggles!" she muttered, infuriated beyond reason at her inability to figure it out. "Filthy hovel with their backwards inventions and-" The lamp suddenly lit up, practically blinding her in its unexpected brilliance.

"What are you doing?"

She barely bit back a scream, tumbling backward in surprise and hitting her head against the wall opposite the sink. The younger muggle was right there in the doorway, smelling strongly of cheap tobacco and staring at her with tired, bloodshot eyes. He had one hand against the wall, next to a series of levers- that must be how they worked!

"Don't you come near me! Stay back!" she warned, hefting Harry's wand and pointing it at him.

In contrast to the fear he'd shown earlier in the night, the muggle simply stared at the wand in an unfocused manner, belatedly raising his hands and taking a step away from the bathroom door. "Sorry," he said in a hushed voice. "I heard someone in here, but the lights were off, so…"

"I couldn't make them work."

"What's all that stuff?" he asked, nodding at Harry's things, now scattered around the bathroom floor.

"It's none of your business, muggle!" she hissed, keeping the wand trained on him. With the bathroom lamp shining on him, she could see that her previous assessment of him being a slightly smaller copy of the beastly muggle blob she'd threatened earlier was incorrect. This one was large, and would no doubt have a frame to rival that of his father, but judging from the size of his arms, he had considerable muscle.

While she was evaluating him, he was looking down at a book that was lying open on the floor. "This is Harry's," he said, lifting it up. "What are you-"

"Give that to me!" She snatched it from him. "Just- go, get away from me."

"What's your deal? Never would'a thought the first bird he brought home would be such a bint."

"I neither want nor need your approval. Now go away." He shrugged and turned away. "Wait. I'd prefer that you don't mention any of this to Harry, muggle."

"Dudley. My name is Dudley. What's your problem with us? All you've done is wave your wand around since you got here. My family didn't do anything to you."

"It's not what you did to me, it's what you did to him," she said, staring meaningfully over his shoulder at Harry's bedroom door.

His face fell at her reply, and he was quiet for a moment. "Is what you said before true? About Harry fighting Lord- Lord Thing-a-ma-jig?"

"Yes."

"My mum said he was dead."

She shrugged. "He was. Now he's not."

The muggle seemed to weigh her casual reply for several seconds. "You know, he - my cousin, I mean - he saved my life last year. These monsters attacked us, and-"

"I know about the dementors. You're lucky Harry's such an exceptional wizard."

The muggle rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, anyway, I feel like I kinda owe him. So I'll do my best to keep my parents out of your hair while you spend time with him, okay?"

"That's… acceptable."

He chuckled. "Okay. Make sure you turn the lights off when you're done snooping. These switches, here-"

"Yes, I see." She paused, then ground out a reluctant "Thank you."

"Sure. 'night." He closed the door and she heard him wander down the hall.

Daphne didn't loosen her hold on Harry's wand until she heard another door shut, letting out a deep breath. That had been close. Setting down the book she was holding, she looked over the rest of his things. There were a few pieces of strange rectangular parchment, with strange ornate portraits and decorations. Some Galleons and Sickles.

What was this? It was a large piece of fabric, but one finer than she'd ever seen Harry wear before. It flowed over her fingers like liquid cloth, soft and smooth to the touch. It was gorgeous! Was that a hood? It was too big to be robes, but- she felt for a clasp, unable to locate one. A very unusual cloak.

She'd probably have better luck sorting it out if she tried it on, she rationalized, swirling the cloth over her shoulders, marveling at the lightness of the fabric. Daphne would have to find out where he got it and ask her mother to purchase one for her.

So intrigued by its quality, she didn't immediately inspect her reflection in the mirror. When she looked up, she gasped - it was an invisibility cloak!

Setting aside that remarkable find, she next glanced over his letters. All of them were from Ron and Hermione. It was good to know there weren't any other girls pursuing him, at least.

Finally, she picked up the book, closing the lid of the toilet to sit down before she opened the first page. Written in large, printed letters, was a brief inscription -

Harry - I hope through our memories you can see how amazing your mother and father were. A more remarkable witch or wizard there never was.

It was initialed "R.H.", and Daphne's lips pressed in a firm line as she turned the pages, finding photo after photo of James and Lily Potter. They were a lovely couple, she thought, observing the two dancing at their wedding.

She tried to imagine what it must be like for Harry, to only know his parents through old photographs. Daphne turned another page and paused, looking at James and Lily beaming at the camera, a baby held between them.

Closing the book, she made sure to gather everything she'd brought with her, hesitantly reaching out and extinguishing the muggle lamp by using the lever on the wall. As she stealthily slipped back into Harry's room, returning his treasures to their hiding spot beneath the loose floorboard, Daphne couldn't smother an intense surge of guilt.

Harry grew up in this miserable shack, shown nothing but contempt and abuse, hungry and alone with no one but a collection of old photographs to love him. It wasn't right. He deserved better, from the muggles, from the school… from her.

Propping herself up on one arm to see him, Daphne watched him through the darkness for some time. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep, idle imaginings of looking at photos of herself dancing with Harry replacing any memory of her earlier nightmare.

A/N: Short chapter, but I wanted to get it out. Remainder of D's time at the Dursley's next chapter.

Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles