Chapter 1: I Am, I Am, I Am

"I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo."

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

From the beginning, there had really only been the two of them, Daphne and Astoria.

Pureblood lore would tell the Wizarding world the story of who they were, claiming that the births of people like the Greengrass sisters were hardly important because they were not simply born, they were made. They were more than babies but rather, creations from their conception, carved from marble that gave way to skin and bone and suffering and warmth, molded into the people we would become as infancy melted away. They were not only born into their family, they were entitled, deserving, chosen- out of all the others, them, and the ghosts of anyone they could have been faded away as carefully- crafted identities fell onto their shoulders for their burden.

This was all they knew; this is all they could ever know. It was Daphne and Astoria, Astoria and Daphne, growing up behind ivy-covered walls and fine clothing and the sort of secrets only sisters could share, not uncaring what lay beyond Greengrass House, but unconscious to what was.

The Sacred Twenty-Eight. Out of all the others, us.

Perhaps it was exactly because of this, this good fortune of their blood purity, that what Astoria and Daphne made up for in birthright was lost everywhere else. Desired but unwanted, ennobled but disregarded, pure but corruptible, like Atlas from the mythologies they grew up with, they carried the weight of their family's expectations under straining spines only supported by the vice-tight hold of corseting charms. Like Maia of the Pleiades, Daphne came into this world first, but like Alcyone, Astoria shone brighter than her sister ever could.

Astoria was born four years after Daphne, her arrival both a surprise and disappointment to their father. She was another girl, another useless heir who'd inevitably cost the Greengrass estate a fortune just as her elder sister would, but unlike Daphne she was born with beautiful, black hair and bright blue eyes. A trait of their patriarch, a trait of success.

Their mother acted no differently when she birthed Astoria as she did when she had her elder daughter- with tearful eyes and hands grasping for her child, both Daphne and Astoria had been immediately carted off into the waiting arms of a House Elf, crying for a mother unable to hold them. Her husband, a man twenty years older than her own twenty years of age, stood over the canopied bed with a detached expression the Healers would whisper about later amongst themselves.

This dynamic would transcend into their youth- a mother who cared until she no longer could, and a father who didn't, Daphne and Astoria fell quietly into the background of their picture-perfect Pureblood family. Astoria was a gift to Daphne and Daphne alone, a friend by birth- the stillness of their surroundings always unsettled by their games and jokes and laughter, any chance of sibling rivalry squashed by their mutual acceptance that they only had each other.

Years went by and their dynamic changed again as both girls got older, their roles as a shared-Atlas redistributing itself so that Daphne would carry the brunt of the weight. Astoria was ignorant to this, as her sister so often allowed her to be, and the brightness of her being leaked out from behind the oldest Greengrass daughter as she stood in front of her protectively. Daphne guarded her from the ugliness of the world around them, despite how small that world was, clasping hands over Astoria's too-observant eyes, always-listening ears, and an overly- talkative mouth. Daphne vowed to perform if it meant Astoria could be.

And perhaps she did this too often, too vehemently- Daphne allowed Astoria to shine with her, she basked in her glow and protected its blinding light from being tainted by anything undeserving, she cherished her and worshipped her and cared for her like she was her own and encouraged her brightness, even if only between the two of them.

It shouldn't have been a surprise when Astoria sat on that damned stool in the Great Hall with a patchwork, dusty hat sitting on top of her dark, chin-length locks, and an ear-splitting GRYFFINDOR echoed against the cold, stone walls.

It shouldn't have been, but it was, and the anxiety bubbling inside Daphne boiled over until she was reduced to a few embarrassing tears falling down her face.

Astoria's expression, frozen in fear and eyes searching for a matching blue pair, paled at the croaking words that had boomed from the Sorting Hat's mouth. Her knuckles were ashen-white in her lap, her shoulders stiff, and her mouth gaping in shock as she tearfully looked for the one person in the room whose response would mean more than anyone else's.

Daphne used one hand to wipe away at her eyes and another to pry Millicent's supportive squeeze from her arm. She rose from her chair, and in that moment, she knew really, inevitably, there really only ever would be the two of them.

There was Astoria, and then there was Daphne.

Two Nights Earlier, 48 Hours Before Astoria's Sorting

For a majority of her life, Daphne would hardly refer to herself as woman of confidence, but she was certain about many things. Because of this, she could say with one-hundred percent certainty that life was much easier to navigate when one followed the unwritten, unspoken rules of the universe.

While some might've called her the quieter sort, she would argue it wasn't that she lacked anything to say- rather, there were more important things one could be doing. There were only twenty-four hours in a day and every hour she was awake was a moment she chose to sit, watch, and listen.

Staying quiet was a golden rule; a practice she had honed and crafted over time as a voyeur to the consequences of defiance. In the cost-benefit analysis of life, speaking up and being loud left very little to gain and much to lose, while doing the alternative brought opportunity. And Daphne was nothing if not an opportunist.

Silence had paved narrow, winding paths in places where there had been little room to move; quietness had given way to cracks in walls just big enough to peak through and to the sort of emptiness that could echo even the most hushed of whispers.

In Slytherin House, where secrets were the best form of currency, this was invaluable.

It helped that following this rule was only encouraged by watching those she loved pay the price of speaking out of turn, having spoken when they had not been spoken to. She could look at Theodore Nott, one of her closest confidantes since childhood, with the scar that ran over the bridge of his nose and up his left cheek. "A Stinging Jinx gone wrong," Theo confided back in their first year, his grin crooked and his gaze distant. "I can't say Father didn't warn me. Thank Merlin he's always had awful aim."

And she supposed she could look at Mother, or she could think of her, since it was impossible to look in the face of somebody who seemingly fell off the face of the planet four years before. In their tiny cultivation of a community, the pure-blooded world, disobedience and disappearing were so closely intertwined, they were practically indiscernible from one another.

The repercussions of poor behavior were as strong as the love Daphne had for Astoria- which left her watching her sister with a certain amount of trepidation.

As she studied her, eleven-years old and readying herself for her first-year at Hogwarts without an ounce of nervousness, a giggle so loud that it cracked through the air like lightning, and a distinct wildness in her bright blue eyes, Daphne felt a slow, sluggish resignation to the fact that getting Astoria to obey the rules of their world would be its own challenge.

"Let's review again," Daphne instructed under her breath, her hand squeezing Astoria's shoulder reassuringly. Astoria shrugged her off, her nose scrunched in irritation and a frown forming at her lips.

"Daphne, please," she whined, her foot seconds away from stomping on the stone steps of the notably ostentatious Parkinson Villa. Astoria's hair, a short, brown bob tucked behind her ears, flew up as she shook her head insistently. The light pink ribbon wrapped in a band underneath her newly shorn locks threatened to slip right off despite the numerous grooming charms holding it in place, a fashion choice she only agreed to wearing after having been persuaded by the promise of unlimited Acid Pops from Honeydukes for the upcoming year. "We don't need to review. I remember everything you told me."

"I'm not concerned that you've forgotten, Astoria," Daphne chastised. "I'm concerned that you will choose not to listen, and you'll do the opposite of what I've asked of you."

With a long-winded sigh, Astoria rose a brow at her sister and with a rather sour attitude, looked over at the blonde. "I have to say 'thank you' to the Parkinson's, I'm not supposed to talk to anyone but you, Theo, and Millie, I can't yawn, and I can't go to the loo by myself," she listed off frustratedly. "Is that enough of a review?"

"Just four rules," Daphne warned. "I don't want to have to remind you, do you understand?"

Astoria looked thoroughly put-out by the exchange, and feeling something akin to sympathy, Daphne bent down to look into her younger sister's avoidant eyes. "You know why I'm asking so much of you, don't you?" she whispered. "This is for your own good."

"Doesn't seem like it," the brunette grumbled, her arms folded across her chest. "Seems like I'm lying."

"Hardly."

"Lying is wrong."

"It's not lying, it's performing," Daphne bit out. "And even if it was lying-"

"Which this is-"

"Which this isn't," the older girl interrupted. "I would hope that you would trust me enough to know that anything I've told you is for your benefit and nothing else."

Both girls remained quiet for a moment, and while the older Greengrass girl's temper flared in her chest at her sister's insolence, another part of her knew this was Astoria, this was who she was, and the only thing she could do was get them through the rest of the evening without incident.

It's just one night, Daphne told herself. Just one.

With a deep breath, she let her hand lower and wrapped it around Astoria's, gave it a squeeze, and led her inside.

It was exactly at this time every year, the week right before students were sent off to Hogwarts, that Pansy Parkinson threw her "End of Holiday Extravaganza". Glitter and silk and sequins hung from every corner- it was an event that only seemed to evolve into something more grandiose and lavish than year's last, and Pansy's carefully-selected invitations were composed of both a mix of families worthy of marrying into and families she knew were useful in acquaintance. The Greengrasses, bearing no eligible bachelors, fell into the latter.

The Ball Room, located in the West Wing of the estate, was draped in rich silver and emerald décor; the tinkling of crystal and the quick scurrying of House Elves refilling plates of hors d'oeuvre's echoed in the background of loud laughter and excited chatter. Astoria's eyes widened, her hand warm in her sister's, as she took in their surroundings.

"It's all so…" she started, trailing off as she found herself speechless.

Daphne's mouth tilted upwards. "Extravagant?"

The younger Greengrass scoffed. "I was going to say obnoxious."

Daphne opened her mouth to reply, but as if she could hear them across the room, Pansy turned her head in their direction and a grin split across her face. "Daphne Greengrass," she greeted salaciously, saying her name as though her mere presence had saved her from the boredom brought by all of her other guests. Clad in a plum-colored sequin shift dress Daphne recognized as a piece from Maison Capenoir's summer line, the Parkinson heir strutted across the floor and placed an exaggerated air-kiss on both of Daphne's cheeks.

"Pansy," Daphne replied, hoping the tightness in her eyes would be interpreted as one of anticipation rather than one of annoyance. "The Villa looks marvelous, as always."

Glancing over her shoulder nonchalantly, Pansy waved her off. "Oh, this? Well I think it could have been a bit grander myself…this is unfortunately a bit subtle for my taste."

"Subtle?" Astoria exclaimed in shock, unable to hold her tongue. Daphne's smile dimmed and Pansy's own grin sharpened as she looked over at the younger girl.

"Astoria," Pansy acknowledged curiously. "You've grown so much, I can still remember you were just born…so itty- bitty!"

"I can't really remember you at all," Astoria admitted honestly. Daphne's hand tightened, and with a sharp side glance, the younger Greengrass cleared her throat. "What I meant to say was… thank you so much for your hospitality," she continued with about as much enthusiasm as a hostage victim.

Pansy blinked, but the same face-splitting grin reappeared across her features and she leaned in for a double-kiss. "You're very welcome, Astoria," she replied. "You know, I don't invite just any incoming first-year. But I do love my Greengrass ladies, after all."

"I'm sure you do."

Pansy blinked, and with an expression thinly veiled with irritation, Daphne found herself laughing heartily as she playfully slapped at Astoria's shoulder just on the edge of painful. "Oh Astoria, you simply are hilarious," Daphne chuckled, a threat lacing underneath her words. "Well Pansy, I'm sure you have many, many more people to meet tonight. Please, don't let us keep you."

Looking all-but relieved at the dismissal, Pansy grasped Daphne's hands in hers with a pitying look gracing her features. "Oh, Daphne, always so polite. It's such a shame I have to go, I hate to leave the both of you," she said sadly. "But I hope you enjoy the rest of your night, and I do hope I can catch you again!"

"Thank you again, Pansy."

With that, Pansy spun on her heel, the shimmying sequins of her dress and clicking of her shoes the only noises Daphne could hear besides the pulse of blood rushing in her head.

"Astoria-"

"I know, I know," the younger girl cut in, sounding equally as disappointed in herself as Daphne was in her. "I'm sorry, alright? I won't do it again."

"I gave you four rules. Four."

"I know! I said I was sorry, I just couldn't-"

Just as Daphne felt herself seething, she found her head being lightly wrenched back, her long blonde ponytail tugged on playfully. Her hands flew to her head and at the corner of her eye, she saw an angry red scar and a wicked grin thrown her way.

"Greengrass," Theo said wryly. "About time you came up for air, I was beginning to think Pansy had come over to swallow you whole. You do look good enough to eat."

Daphne rolled her eyes and let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Being eaten would certainly be a better alternative than spending the rest of my evening here."

"Don't tempt me with a good time," he whispered wickedly. Astoria's eyes widened comically, her pupils darting back between her sister and the boy before her. Daphne let out an unladylike scoff, her gaze giving him an obvious onceover as she took in his painted nails and dark kohl smudges underneath his waterline. "I believe your tastes lie elsewhere, Theo, don't they?"

Theo grinned, his dark eyes sparkling with challenge. "So goes the rumor," he replied, his tone nonchalant. "I'm always willing to expand my palate."

"Blaise wouldn't take too kindly to that."

"He doesn't even realize he's on the menu, not yet anyway. Needless to say, I'm on a…culinary expedition to try new things."

"I don't believe there's anything I could serve that would be to your liking."

"Says you," laughed Theo, enjoyment written across his features at the back-and-forth between him and his closest friend. "I always have room for dessert."

"You're both disgusting," a disgruntled voice interjected from behind them. Millie, looking as equally uncomfortable in her evening gown as she was at witnessing such an exchange, bumped shoulders with Theo. "You both ought to know better than performing your little faux-exhibitionisms in this horrid place."

Theo looked at her appraisingly, his brows lifting at the sight of their friend wearing a garment she certainly didn't choose herself. "Bulstrode, what a marvelous sight you make," he told her warmly, his fingers making a move to pull at the fabric in her skirt. Millie's lips thinned and she slapped his hand away.

"I don't want to hear a word," she snapped, smoothing the material as she glanced at Daphne. "What'd Parkinson have to say?"

Millicent was nothing if not blunt, and as her arms crossed and her heel tapped against the ground awaiting an answer, Daphne realized this was as close to a greeting as she would get from her roommate.

"Nothing but the normal pleasantries," the blonde replied casually, her own eyes surveying any potential eavesdroppers. "Astoria made a… distinct impression on Pansy, I'm afraid."

Millie huffed appreciatively and Theo smirked, much to Daphne's irritation. "Little Greenie," Theo told the younger girl conspiratorially, his hands rubbing together. "Did you perchance piss off our oh-so-gracious host?"

Astoria perked up at the acknowledgement of her sister's friends, her chin jutting out stubbornly as her eyes crinkled with mirth. "She said she remembered me from when I was a baby," she answered annoyedly. "She was definitely lying. I don't like liars."

Theo let out a chuckle and rubbed at her hair affectionately. "Oh dear," he sighed, not sounding the least put-out. "What did you say, Astoria?"

"I told her I didn't remember her at all, which was the truth. Pansy didn't seem too happy to hear that."

Millie's head cocked to the side in curiosity, her mouth tilting up. "No, I bet she wasn't."

"This one," Theo laughed, shaking his head at Daphne. "About as subtle as a brick through a window, isn't she? Slytherin's going to be quite the wake-up call."

In a rare display of insecurity, Astoria looked down at her shoes, her teeth biting at her lower lip. "Slytherin," she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. "Right."

Millie and Theo either didn't hear her or didn't care to, as they lost themselves to a bickering match Daphne couldn't bother following. Instead, her eyes strayed to her younger sister, and not for the first time, she felt her chest grow tight with worry.

"Ahem."

That evening, Pansy rose from an emerald-colored dining chair and tapped the side of her glass with a teaspoon still covered in sticky caramelized sugar from the crème brûlée she had eaten only minutes before. Standing over their group of friends, she beamed down at them as they continued to lounge around their dining tables, the grand chandelier above them- one of many located throughout Parkinson Place- glittered as candles flickered in the corners of the room.

"I would like to propose a toast-"

Theo interrupted with an annoyed, exaggerated sigh. Pansy's proud, gracious smile screwed up into an instant scathing grimace as she stared at the boy, patting his distended stomach and rolling his eyes.

"I would like to propose a toast!" she blazed ahead, a sharpness to her grin, as she kept her eyes ahead on her other guests. Pansy cleared her throat pointedly and lifted her nose high in the air. "First and perhaps most importantly, I'd like to toast to Draco and I, for being gifted the wonderful job in the upcoming year as Slytherin's brightest, most intelligent, charming…"

"-Hippogriff shite-" a voice mumbled.

"…Prefects to date! I think it's safe to say that the contributions Draco and I will make to Slytherin House will not only be significant, but groundbreaking…perhaps even historical... and I couldn't be happier to have the one-and-only, Draco Malfoy, by my side."

Pansy stared at the blonde boy like he was Salazar Slytherin himself, beaming with such excess that a noticeable twitch in the corner of her mouth flickered from the physical strain. Draco, on the other hand, seemed too preoccupied by the thread count of the tablecloth to be bothered with her theatrics.

The silence was palpable, the lack of eye-contact noticeable even to the most oblivious among them. Daphne made the mistake of looking at Theo across her table, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he attempted not to laugh.

Undeterred, their host persisted. "And to all of us, for making it to fifth year. While some of us have yet to catch up, almost everyone at this event has grown increasingly more beautiful, clever, and intelligent… I am so proud to surround myself with such fine people."

The barb was, like everything else about Pansy's speech, unnecessary and opportunistic- the laser-focused eye contact on Millie undoubtedly an attempt at a low blow intended for the girl who, Daphne realized, had suddenly become very still at her end of the table. Pansy grinned viciously as she watched Millie silently place her fork on her plate, her motions the very embodiment of poise and control while the redness staining her cheeks gave away her embarrassment.

"-And last, but not at all least…cheers to ME," Pansy announced happily, her earrings swaying as she leaned forward with her glass. "For simply being the very best friend and colleague any of you could have ever asked for. You are all incredibly lucky to have me, and I feel privileged to have touched the lives of so many in my brief but very beautiful fifteen years. Congratulations to us!"

The toast was predictably terrible in the way Pansy's speeches always were when their posse met prior to the beginning of the school year. Just like her mother, Pansy had taken it upon herself to initiate most of their social gatherings if for no other reason than to raise herself higher on the ladder. To the misfortune of Daphne, Millicent, and Theo, this meant sitting through more than one of her generous moments of self-appreciation while trying their best not to make a nasty comment in fear of losing out on Mrs. Parkinson's free-flowing alcohol.

Halfheartedly, they all rose their glasses with pained smiles, and they took a long drink of the elf-made champagne Pansy had described in nauseum in her personalized invitations the week before. "Cheers to Pans, who only becomes more and more modest as the years pass us by," Theo quipped loudly with a lazy grin, his eyebrows lifting at her with the expectation of a retort.

Pansy roamed around her own table and rested her manicured hand on Draco's stiff arm, uncaring for the tenseness in his body language. Daphne couldn't bear to watch, something akin to second-hand embarrassment festering inside her at Malfoy's disinterest, and instead looked over at Astoria.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" she whispered to her little sister, her eyes hopeful that if nothing else, Astoria could find humor in the dramatics of the evening. The brunette didn't bother to look up at her, tracing a finger on the table in lazy doodles as she shrugged her small shoulders. Looking disturbingly out-of-place, even out-of-time considering the age difference between her and everyone else in the room, Daphne realized her sister was inordinately uncomfortable and more than likely, unwilling to upset her further after recalling her short exchange with Pansy.

This unsettled something in her, and her thoughts roamed back to Astoria's strange reply to Theo's comment about the wake-up call Slytherin would be. She didn't want to be at Parkinson's self-obsessed celebration either, but Astoria was more than uneasy.

She seemed disturbed.

Daphne wanted to shake Astoria. She wanted to look her in the eye and tell her she had to find comfort in this sort of thing, that there were hundreds of events similar to this one she'd be expected to go to. She couldn't just watch her peers with disdain and seclude herself away from these miserable people, she would have to be one of them; she had to understand there was an entire future of itchy dress robes, surface-level conversations, and gaudy decorations ahead of her. Ahead of both of them.

This was what their lives were, as Greengrasses, and what they always would be.

But Daphne couldn't do any of that, not in Pansy's home at Pansy's event, maybe nowhere and never. Instead, she ignored her sister's grimace to throw a cautious side-eye to Millicent on her left.

Millicent's face was carefully blank, but the bite behind Pansy's comment was obvious and the crease between her brows told Daphne she certainly felt slighted by their host's idea of a joke. Leaning over to her as if she was about to reveal a great secret, Daphne lightly bumped arms with the brunette. "Don't listen to her," she instructed quietly, her eyes never leaving the empty glass in her hand. "Pansy was born a prat and will more than likely die a prat. Don't allow her to so easily rile you."

Millicent scoffed, her eyes facing her lap. "Thank you for such inspiring advice, Greengrass," she retorted snappily under her breath. "But I don't see Parkinson saying anything about you."

Surprised by the vitriol in her friend's voice, Daphne found her mind slipping into the countless observations she'd made of their host. Finding little that would be helpful, she resorted to doing the only thing she felt would soothe the burn of Pansy's cruelty.

"Draco didn't take a single look at Pansy," she stated seriously.

Millicent rose an intrigued eyebrow before she could school her features. "No?"

"No."

"Hm."

"Must be very difficult," Daphne said quietly. "To go through all of this effort. To wear a loud, purple Maison Capenoir, covered in noisy sequins, wearing eight-inch heels…only to go completely unnoticed by the one person she wants to look at her most of all."

Millie said nothing, and taking a long sip of her drink, Daphne found herself looking her in the eye, assessing. "One might think that making a slight at another woman's appearance…well, it would force her audience to pay more attention to Pansy's own, wouldn't it? What does a girl do when she's feeling insecure, when she feels ugly?"

"She tries to make someone feel worse."

"Precisely."

The crease between Millie's brows smoothed out, and Daphne felt pleased. Sitting, watching, listening- this was the payoff of being quiet, of taking notice rather than calling attention to herself.

Millicent looked down at the table, her eyes flickering over to the side of Pansy's face across the room. "Hm," she murmured thoughtfully. "I…suppose it makes sense, now that you mention it. She's always saying little remarks when she thinks I can't hear them."

Daphne sipped again, her fingernail tapping against the crystal. "Well, you obviously mustn't go around telling anyone I've told you this," she explained carefully. "We're friends, and friends tell each other these sorts of things. But this is to stay between you and me."

Millicent smirked. "Don't worry," she retorted, her cheeks rosy against her dark complexion. "This secret is truly safe with me. Though I don't know whether or not to feel flattered by this."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, if I'm more frequent of a target, she either feels threatened by me or feels that I'm easy pickings…at least, in comparison to you."

Daphne smiled innocently. "Can two things not be true at once?"

"I like this side of you," Millie smirked. "Who knew rising into fifth year would bring some spark to Daphne Greengrass?"

With a shrug, the blonde watched as her glass refilled itself. "Maybe it's a welcome change," she replied, throwing the drink back and draining it just as quickly as it had been filled. "Or maybe I'm just stating the obvious."

Millicent sat quietly for a second, her brown eyes assessing her from the side. Daphne tried not to feel scrutinized under her steady gaze, glancing away as she stared into her drink. "It's just the liquid courage, making you feel a little brave…right?" Millie asked her unsurely, her voice doing little to hide her own discomfort at asking such a personal question.

"Hm?"

"It's just…you're drinking enough for everyone at the table."

"Am I?"

"You are."

Millicent's concerned tone unsettled her more than she would have liked to admit- Daphne felt a strange sense of self-awareness, in that moment. A feeling she had only experienced a few times before, and it was startling enough to overwhelm her as she stared into her glass. Had Astoria noticed, too?

Look at all these happy, happy people, she thought to herself as she glanced around the room. With surveying eyes, she stared as Blaise and Theo barely suppressed their laughs as Draco tried his best to get out from under Pansy's heated gaze and unwanted touches. Both boys whispered among each other as a glowering Draco Malfoy pushed his hair back, tactfully busying his arms and hands so Pansy couldn't grab a hold of them.

"Daph?"

Daphne looked up at Millicent, who's eyebrows were pinched all over again. "Yes?" she asked her friend, looking away from the scene on the other end of the table.

"We're friends."

"Yes."

"Friends check in on friends, if they feel…concern."

"Do they?"

"Yes."

Millie sighed. "Consider this a check-in."

"Oh," she replied smoothly, swirling the gold liquid in her crystal glass. "I'm alright, Millie. Just thinking about fifth year."

Millicent didn't look as if she quite believed her, but her face visibly relaxed and she smiled back. The forced, obligatory questioning was over between them, and they could simply resume as they always had. "If you're sure, Greengrass."

Later that night, a few chosen guests of Pansy's sat in their nightwear in the Drawing Room, huddled on the floor in a circle. Flames crackled in the fireplace, casting a glow on the green and gold accents in the room as a bottle of old Firewhisky was passed among the teens.

Unlike Pansy's matching pink satin pajama set or the old Slytherin Quidditch Team sweatsuit Millicent preferred, Daphne wore a matronly white nightgown she realized too late into the evening made her look both simultaneously like a child and an old woman. Astoria's face was buried in her sister's thigh, her eyes closed in sleep, and Daphne occupied herself by twirling a strand of the younger girl's dark hair between her fingers, Daphne's bare feet were tucked underneath her as she braced herself against the cold stone floors, the ever-present chill penetrating the rug beneath her. She couldn't help but appreciate the warmth that filled her chest from the Firewhisky, a small pool of heat sitting in her stomach from the cinnamon alcohol.

Her vision had blurred ages ago, and a part of her registered that Theo and Tracey Davis had attempted to draw her into conversation until they realized she was lost in her own thoughts, and subsequently stopped trying. Daphne found herself merely nodding along unconvincingly, all of the talking around her sailing right over her head as she took generous swigs of the bottle once it made its round. Her cheeks darkened from the flush of the liquor and the fire roaring across from her, and though a part of Daphne still felt oddly distant, she was as content as one in her position could be.

Light fingertips danced across her shoulder and Daphne flinched. Looking up beside her, Pansy affectionately grabbed onto her arm and smacked a kiss on her cheek, her own face flushed from the liquor. "Fifth year is going to be our best year yet. I just know it, Daph."

Daphne hummed an affirmative, her hand moving towards the bottle in Pansy's hand. With an amused roll of her eyes, Pansy passed it over and watched as her friend's face scrunched at the harsh burn of the alcohol moving down her throat. Blaise scoffed somewhere across the rug, his arms folded over his chest. "Merlin, save some for the rest of us, Greengrass," he said with thinly veiled irritation. "Drunkenness is very déclassé, and a state of being one should only partake in on their own time with their own liquor."

"Fuck off Blaise," Pansy snapped, her mouth curled into a snarl. Giving Daphne another reassuring pat, she tilted the bottle up into her friend's mouth and smiled. "You can get as pissed as you like, Daphne. Blaise, I'd be more than happy to go fetch some Moonseed Poison from Mother's vaults if you're so desperate to quench your thirst."

"Only if we drink it together, Parkinson."

"Pity, I think there's only enough for you and Theo, unfortunately. But both of you feel free to drink it up, I'm nothing if not a good host that shares with her guests."

The bickering scratched at something inside Daphne, and it occurred to her that the nonsensical back-and-forth's should bother her more than it did. They were all differing in levels of inebriation- Millicent had long since passed out on a couch, her mouth lax and wide open, making Pansy curl her lips in disgust every time she looked over. Draco was brooding in front of the fireplace like some poorly-written antagonist in one of the romances Daphne was so secretly hellbent on reading.

But instead, despite her peers sitting around her and enjoying the last days of their summer holiday before they began their fifth year, she felt strangely, inexplicably, and completely alone.

Pansy would never admit it herself- and Merlin knows Daphne, Millicent, and even kiss-arse Tracey Davis of all people told the girl often enough- but she snored like a Hippogriff.

It was loud enough to provide an answer for her current whereabouts. Having moved Astoria onto a pillow, Daphne found herself sitting beside Draco, both of them looking into the dimming flames in the fireplace as the bottle of Firewhisky sat between them untouched.

Draco had always been the contemplative sort. Youth had forced Theo and Millie into the closest of Daphne's circle, but despite the close quarters of pureblood children, she felt as though she hardly knew the Malfoy heir at all. This was mostly of her own will, of course- to call Claude Greengrass's efforts to marry his eldest daughter into a family like the Malfoys would have been far too generous.

And while Daphne knew long ago that she'd never marry someone she loved, for love was, as her father so kindly put it, for half-bloods, idiots, and Americans, the idea of marrying someone like Draco was slightly crushing to her spirit and a thought that kept her awake some nights.

"You look sad," Daphne said without lifting her eyes from the fire, her arms folded across the tops of her knees as she stared into orange flames. "Is something on your mind?"

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched, and his eyes were soft as he, too, failed to look at her. "I'm…," he sighed. "…Ruminating."

"Draco Malfoy…ruminating. Should I be worried? Best clear out the room before that terribly large head of yours explodes."

Draco didn't so much as crack a smile, his face looking haunted as the crackling fire cast long, dark shadows on his already gaunt face. Instead, he rested his head in his arms with an expression far too wary for a fifteen-year- old to wear.

"You…you should know I won't judge you," Daphne said quietly, her mouth set in a firm line. "I'll listen if you want. I won't say a word."

Draco's expression twisted as he weighed his options, his eyes narrowed. "I've…I'm thinking about a lot, is all."

"About what? Fifth year?"

Silence sat between them as Draco thought about how to reply, and something strangely honest flitted across his face too quickly for Daphne to understand what he was saying. "Yes," he admitted half-heartedly. "I'm… overwhelmed."

"…Overwhelmed."

"That's what I said, Greengrass."

Daphne nodded and she turned her cornflower blue eyes towards him. "I understand, maybe more than you know." she replied. "I'm overwhelmed, too. My mother was betrothed before she could even start seventh year. Did you know that?"

Draco blinked. It had been somewhat of an elephant in the room as of late, that Daphne was nearing the very age her own mother was when she married and got pregnant with her firstborn. His own duties as his father's son and only heir, the prize of the Black and Malfoy families, were burdensome on their own. He couldn't possibly imagine being forced to marry some wrinkly old witch twice his age.

He looked at the melancholy expression on Daphne's face and wondered when he'd seen her smile last. Her golden blonde hair draped around her arms and shoulders like a curtain, and a surge of something heavy sat in his chest.

"Fifth year will be good for you," he said assuredly. "Have you thought about what N.E. you'll take next year?"

Daphne let out a breathy laugh. "Draco," she admonished, feeling slightly self-conscious. She busied herself with her hands, smoothing over her nightgown soothingly. "That's not funny."

"What? We'll be preparing for these exams, surely you'll take them?"

She blinked in response. "Draco."

Draco remained silent, his eyes staring into hers.

She tried again. "Draco."

He shook his head. "No," he protested. "You can't just…you can't not take them."

"You and I both know there's no need for me to take them."

"I imagine this wasn't your decision," Draco pushed. Daphne sighed, already mentally drained at the thought of revisiting the topic that had plagued her mind for the better part of the summer holiday.

"No, it wasn't," she replied shortly. "My father makes the decisions for our family, what position do I have to make any of my own?"

"Your father can't just force you to sit them out. That's humiliating."

It hadn't even been much of an argument back at home when the conversation had first arisen, but the strange ache in her heart at losing the chance to take N.E.W.T. level Charms still held the same heaviness whenever she thought about it for too long.

"Draco,"she said quietly; serious as she'd ever been. "I have no need for them."

The blonde boy's shoulders sank, his eyes roaming over hers with defeat. With a somewhat hopeful look in his gaze, he glanced over at his equally sullen friend. "If…if I said yes to a betrothal with you, would you be able to take your N.E.W.T.s then?" he asked tentatively.

Daphne suddenly felt very, very cold, and closed her eyes in annoyance, shaking her head at him as threateningly as she could muster. "Pansy, your occasional-girlfriend, is right over there," she whispered harshly. "Keep your voice down."

Draco continued as if he hadn't heard her. "I could say that I want you to get an education, a condition of our marriage. Your father won't try to negotiate if I accept the betrothal. I'm still of a higher station than you are, he'd be stupid to try and argue."

It was as close to a kind gesture as Draco could deliver, that she knew. However, the freedom he thought he would be allowing her simply furthered her realization that she wasn't free at all. Of the little she knew of Draco, she knew he hated nothing more than being refused the things he wanted, and knowing this, she smiled at him tightly. "Pansy would have my head if I ever married you. You must know that."

Any looks of longing or hope left Draco's expression and instead, his face morphed into one of annoyance. "Don't remind me.

"Shush. She'd never forgive me if she knew any of what you've just said," she said tiredly.

Daphne was disappointed to see that his troubled expression hadn't left, if anything, he looked more grievous than before. "Good to know that despite how much has changed, so many things have stayed the same."

"My sincerest apologies."

Silence beat between the two.

"And…that's all it is, right?" he asked too-casually. "You don't want to be my husband… because of Parkinson… and that's the only reason?"

Looking at one of her oldest peers, his pale blonde hair looking nearly white from the glow of the fire and his sunken features, she nodded.

"Of course, Draco," Daphne answered smoothly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "I care for you greatly and I…being your wife would be a great privilege. Unfortunately, Pansy knows that too. If things were different, I'd happily marry you."

Draco flushed, and nodded as he struggled not to look at her. Relief filled Daphne at his acceptance, though it pained her to lie so boldly. She had no desire to be married to Draco, none at all, and it scared her that a simple arm touch and a dimpled smile could convince him otherwise.

He stayed quiet for a moment. "I'll figure it out," he said seriously, his eyes boring into the side of her head. "I… I'm going to be very important, very needed, soon enough. Father says so. I'll need the right person by my side, when the time comes."

A generations-old narcissism passed down to the very last Malfoy, it seemed. Still, she wondered if it was nice to believe the world was one's own. "Right," she whispered.

Silence sat between them, untense and unrushed. Daphne wondered if Draco was forcing himself to keep quiet, if perhaps knew that his persistence at the topic at hand would only push her away. It would be just like him, to wield patience as a tool just as readily as he used money and power for anything else he wanted for.

But another part of her contemplated if any man, not just Draco, but any man at all, could care enough about a woman to allow her to exist as freely as she longed to feel. If any man in the world cared enough about a woman to provide for her without the expectation of something reciprocated, if there was even one man who chose to give instead of take what he thought he was owed.

"It's funny, you know," Daphne said aloud, fidgeting with her hands as she looked down at her lap. "I wonder if my father said anything like this to my mother, when he was looking to marry."

Draco's face darkened at that, his sunken eyes peering at her like she was a child. "I'm nothing like your father," he told her seriously. "I would like to be truly married- to be powerful, together. That's the marked difference between him and I."

"So you believe my mother wasn't powerful?"

Draco expression remained blank.

"-I don't disagree," Daphne interrupted. "In fact, I take comfort in the fact that you think so. If… If I'm ever like her, a servant to a man and nothing else… I hope I can be just as weak as she was, in the end."

Draco's face fell and something sour settled in the bottom of Daphne's stomach.

"I…" Draco started softly, effectively cutting himself off with a shaky breath. "I think eventually I could love you, you know. I can't promise that any other man your father approves of will give you that same consideration."

Daphne smiled, her molars grinding together. "That's very kind of you to say, Draco," she answered. "But you and I both know that no matter who I marry, whether or not he loves me will be the least of my concerns."

"And I do respect you," he whispered fiercely. "I would treat you as my equal, always. You would never want for anything."

"You could treat me as your equal," Daphne quipped. "But that does not mean that we ever would be. You and I both know that in the eyes of everyone around us, if I were to marry you, I'd be your inferior. What does it matter how you treat me if our reality says differently?

"Daphne-"

"You don't understand, and I don't expect you to," she assured. "The woman you marry will be lucky to have you as a husband, Draco. I know you'll extend her the same kindness as you've shown me."

The blonde boy rose from the rug and brushed off his pajama pants, his expression somber and his mouth twisted bitterly. He looked down at her on the floor, his face peering down to meet hers like she was a child who had just been scolded. It made her shoulders tense.

"Goodnight, Daphne," he told her with a sigh. "Sleep well."

Daphne watched him walk away, his shoulders hunched in something akin to defeat while she remained by the fire, a nearly empty bottle in her hand.

Later, as Daphne rolled around and tried to find her way to a semi-peaceful sleep, she stared at Astoria across from her. She watched the slight shifting of her eyelids, the wrinkling of her nose as she twitched in her sleep. Daphne could live the rest of her life knowing that though her own fate lay in someone else's hands, she could save Astoria's. She could free her in a way she herself would never be; she'd exchange her own happiness for a key that would unlock doors for her sister that she'd never walk through. Yes, she thought. She could do this.

As she closed her eyes, Daphne allowed herself to think of people like Ginny Weasley and Lavender Brown and Hermione Granger, girls she'd been brought up to think of as beneath her, and for a moment, she even allowed herself to think of her mother.

For a moment, Daphne imagined a future in which she was free like them.

It was nice to dream.

A/N: Hello all! Please leave a like and a comment if you've enjoyed this first chapter!