Like History
Rating: PG
Pairing: Michael/Daphne
Characters: Michael Corner and Daphne Greengrass
Summary: Daphne's finally free... But she's definitely troubled.
Notes: Somewhat angsty, post-Hogwarts.

It was there. They all expected it to go away after the war, but it was there. There were just three at first, but more came later, mostly because it was so easy. Who knew that they'd start recruiting by stealing people away?

Daphne hadn't been the first. There was some Hufflepuff, too. And a Gryffindor. Later came the few Slytherins in her year that hadn't gone running straight to you-know-who, and of course, the Pure-bloods from the other Houses. But at first, there were just the three.

The Gryffindor resisted. The Gryffindor died.

The Hufflepuff resisted. The Hufflepuff died.

Daphne... Didn't resist. She was too scared to resist. So as the yew traced that wretched mark into her arm, she sat there and let it happen, because what else was there to do? She didn't want to die. Oddly enough, it was easy after that. She was treated as family by the others. They all lived in fear, but they always assured her that as long as she did what was right, she could never die. In fact, she could live forever.

And it sounded so good! Merlin, did it sound good. There were times then when she would think about how good it would be, and then she'd look at that mark on her arm and realize that she was nothing but a coward. A sellout. Because she knew that Michael was out there somewhere fighting, and that now, one day, she could meet him, and he wouldn't know it was her, and she'd die.

Daphne didn't fight. She never hurt anyone, but she went along. She followed. Oh, sure, she botched some things, because she could not hate anyone enough to cast those curses which, if she was discovered, would land her in Azkaban for life.

...But she tried. She had tried.

And the more she tried, the sicker she became. More students were introduced into their growing family, and fewer resisted. But they all whispered about freedom sometimes when the others weren't around, and they all wondered if the mark would fade when He died.

It didn't.

Potter. Potter finally won. And Daphne had to admit, she'd been rooting for the boy. Silently, of course, because uttering the name 'Potter' where she was kept was tantamount to blasphemy. Even in that final battle, she prayed he would win, because she was breaking the rules. She was helping the prisoners to escape through broken-beamed buildings into a world where their hope was all they had left.

Her decision to help them had been her saving grace. A wizard who owes doesn't forget. And three-dozen people owed Daphne their lives. On trial, she was acquitted. But that didn't matter, because the mark remained.

So she sat, leaning up against the tree they'd planted before she was taken. It was something to do... Planting trees. They'd stuck the damn thing in the ground before Michael went off to follow his friends and save the world... And Daphne... She didn't want to fight. She stayed behind. It had cost her.

She had the sleeve to her robe rolled up a bit, her eyes focused on the now-greyed remains of the snake and the skull. It no longer burned black, but it was definitely there. It was definitely prominent, and no one with eyes could possibly miss it. Michael shifted next to her, reaching out to take her hand. With a gentle shake, he loosened Daphne's rolled sleeve, which fell down over the Dark Lord's brand.

"I didn't want to die," she said. It must have been hard for Michael. He'd never expected Daphne of all people to become a Death Eater. He'd been there for her these past few days, but quiet. Distant. Of course, they'd both seen things that neither wanted to remember, but the knowledge was what really hurt them. The knowledge that for a few short weeks, they'd been on opposite sides of a war that had killed many, many wizards.

She knew he hated to look at the mark. She hated it, too, but it wasn't easy to look away sometimes. That's why Daphne was surprised when Michael hesitated, shifting again to move closer to her. His other hand pulled back her sleeve again, and for a long time, he just stared.

And he smiled. "It's like history," he said simply, and Daphne understood. And right then, it was normal again. It was them again, and as she leaned against him, they were both home.