Author's Note and Acknowledgement—This is a work of fanfiction written and posted solely for the enjoyment of readers. Characters and places derive from the Harry Potter series of books by JK Rowling, or, like London, are in the common domain. The author receives no compensation and takes this opportunity to thank Ms. Rowling for allowing us this privilege.

The war over, Harry Potter could finally get beyond surviving his next magical brawl. He had always wanted to experience those subtle phenomena alluded to in the literature but not taught in the classroom.

We Will Make Time

A Short Story

By

Bfd1235813

The Battle of Hogwarts ended one era in British magical history as it inaugurated a new one. Harry Potter defeated the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort in single combat, or so the simplified version of events held. He'd actually had lots of help from supporters both living and dead. However, he had faced Voldemort alone in their last confrontation and Voldemort did not survive. This made Potter the victor, and the hero.

Certain responsible, visionary magical persons, a group that included Harry Potter, turned their energy and magical skills to recovery, almost as the fighting ended. Potter's focus was on the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His part in damaging the school weighed on him. The school had figured in every good thing in Potter's memory. His magical education came from the school. Every friend he had ever made was either a student or faculty member.

Potter's formal education ended with his sixth Hogwarts year. He threw himself into repair work at Hogwarts. Potter wanted to return to formal studies as soon as possible. Thus, the more productive he was, the sooner the school could return to normal. There was the added benefit of exhaustion. At the end of each day, Potter left, traveling to Andromeda Tonks' home where he chatted up his infant godson, ate home cooking then immediately lay down and fell asleep.

Potter had done a favor for two fellow students right after the battle. He'd accompanied the Greengrass sisters, Daphne and Astoria, home to their parents' place. In his view it was largely an exercise in hand-holding. Potter's little party did not encounter any kind of danger. The only inconvenience to Potter was a brief diversion from the most direct path to Andromeda Tonks.' The Greengrass sisters were grateful for the escort as they did not know what they would find at home. Delivery accomplished, Harry was introduced to their parents, then pled exhaustion and took his leave.

Daphne Greengrass took two days following her return home to unburden herself to her parents. She told heartbreaking tales of life at Hogwarts during the term just past. Voldemort had, over the summer, instigated a coup in the Ministry for Magic, installed a puppet Minister and facilitated the elevation to Hogwarts Headmaster of Professor Severus Snape. The curriculum was modified to reflect the pureblood supremacist doctrine and values of Voldemort and his supporters. Telling Daphne's parents about her academic year involved long pauses, tears and lots of commiseration.

"You're here, now," Daphne's mother said, numerous times. "Take a break from your studies. Travel. Go to Europe if you want, walk around, visit museums."

Everyone, including Daphne, was surprised by her eventual plan. On the second day after she'd returned home, Daphne let her mother in on her current thinking.

"One of these days, I will," she said. "Right now, I need to go back to school."

"Daphne Greengrass! There is no way I can agree with you! What you've been through. You just got here. Let the school authorities deal with that mess."

"I know you want what you think is best for me, which I appreciate," Daphne said. "Astoria needs to be here. Feed her up. Make her get a good night's sleep. She needs some sunshine every day."

She let her own plans remain, lightly sketched. Mrs. Greengrass read the signs. Her mother was concerned for her Daphne's safety and secretly proud of her internal strength.

Daphne had plenty of toiletries, uniforms, robes and standard unmentionables in her room at Hogwarts. She pulled a medium-sized rucksack out of her closet and packed denim jeans, two heavy cotton shirts and a pair of thick-soled leather shoes. The ruck sat next to the kitchen door until she picked it up just after seven the following morning.

Hogwarts' great hall was filled with the scents of breakfast and the sounds of energized students. Daphne Greengrass crossed the flagstones in the foyer, thrilled to be back, grateful she and Astoria were well. Deep inside, she was sobered by the prospect of the work ahead.

Signs of the battle were everywhere. Rubble was piled up, waiting to be hauled away. Curses had blown holes in stone walls. House banners hung, shredded, from rafters. When she had left with Astoria and Harry Potter she'd heard someone say there were forty dead. Daphne had to assume that was an estimate. She wondered if accounting over the past two days had nudged the number higher.

"Greengrass!"

Daphne looked up ahead.

"Bulstrode! You're hanging around?" she asked.

Millicent Bulstrode was a Slytherin housemate from Daphne's year. She was a very solidly-built witch. Millicent had always worn her hair in a chopped-off cut that might have communicated contempt for style or fashion. On the morning of Daphne's return, Millicent wore a green headscarf with a paisley print. It was large enough to cover her head with sufficient material left over to bring two ties up into a square knot above her forehead. She could have been an Amazon warrior.

Millicent Bulstrode laughed. She was loud and clearly in her element.

"Yeah! Having a great time. We hauled rock all day yesterday. I skipped dinner, took a shower and collapsed in bed. Slept the sleep of…OH! Not that! Sorry. Sorry. Uhh…slept like a baby. What are you doing here?"

"Came to work," said Daphne, lifting up her rucksack.

Millicent Bulstrode didn't look at the pack, as such, but at Daphne Greengrass' perfect manicure.

"Uh-huh," said Ms. Bulstrode. "We'll fix you up with some gloves first. Had breakfast?"

Daphne hadn't so she dropped the rucksack and sat on the bench across from Millicent. A plate materialized on the placemat and Daphne Greengrass began assembling her favorite breakfast, two tablespoons of scrambled eggs, three of hash brown potatoes and a muffin, split and toasted, with plenty of butter and honey.

"Hey, babe!"

The male voice came from somewhere over Bulstrode's shoulder.

"Shut up, Potter!" answered Millicent.

She hadn't looked for the source of the voice. That meant she knew who was speaking. Daphne wondered what had been going on since she'd left school. She couldn't remember Harry Potter conversing with anyone from Slytherin, except for public arguments between himself and Draco Malfoy.

Harry Potter sat down next to Millicent.

"You're gorgeous this morning," he said.

"Save it. Maybe she'd want some of what you've got," Millicent answered, gesturing with her chin.

She looked across at Daphne.

"Yeah. I came out. After that bloody, God-awful, dog's breakfast…"

Daphne saw tears leaking from both of Millicent's eyes.

"Hey," said Potter. "It's going to get better."

Millicent nodded-'Yes.'

"We'll all help each other," Potter continued. "I'm a bigger mess than you."

"Liar."

Millicent's voice was barely audible, the words croaked out.

Potter looked across the table to Daphne.

"We've worked together the last couple of days," Potter explained. "Nothing like surviving something that ought to have killed you both followed by some backbreaking labor to bring people together. Right?"

He leaned, miming throwing a shoulder into the Amazon Millicent Bulstrode. She threw one back, not miming. The block actually moved Potter a little way down the bench, although he recovered.

"We're going to have to start using magic," observed Potter. "Manual labor is slow and it will only get us so far. The Headmistress wants Hogwarts to be ready for start of term."

"I know," Millicent sighed. "Still wish we could use our muscles."

Daphne Greengrass didn't know what she was seeing, or she DID know what she was seeing but she didn't know what it meant.

"So you're-?"

"Co-workers," said Potter.

"Got each other's backs," added Millicent.

"And you're not, uh, you know?" asked Daphne.

Potter looked at Millicent, who shrugged.

"We worked, we talked," said Potter. "We're learning to value the absence of certain things."

"Like bullshit," said Millicent, talking through a laugh. "We hate it, don't we, bro?"

"You got that right," said Potter. "People don't get the wrong idea if you're honest. Voldemort, all lies and bullshit. His magic was nasty good, though, I'll give him that."

"Couldn't back it up, in the end," said Millicent.

She looked Daphne Greengrass in the eye.

"Questions? Are you going to shun me? A couple of witches are keeping their distance, since I adopted a policy of honesty," she went on. "One finds out who one's friends are, at a time like this."

Potter was caught unprepared and tried to stifle a laugh, choked on some eggs, then buried his face in a napkin until he was back in control. He looked around, red-faced, red-eyed and reached for a water goblet.

"Gonna be okay, there, Wand-Boy?" asked Millicent.

Potter nodded.

"With time," he managed to wheeze.

Potter looked at Daphne.

"You don't have to work with us if you don't want to," he said, blinking his still-red eyes. "We were told yesterday that we are an acquired taste."

Millicent smirked.

"Something with which we are perfectly okay," she said. "Just so you know."

"Well, I, for one, think this is a refreshing change, very much for the better," said Daphne. "I spent two days briefing my mother on what had gone on here and I think it is time we did our best to put this past year behind us and work together and get along and…"

Something about the sentiment or the memories or the great weight that had been lifted off their shoulders or just being glad they were alive when so many hadn't been lucky that way got to Daphne and she leaned over, hid her eyes with her hands and began to cry. She tried to make herself be quiet about it but holding back made her shoulders bounce up and down even more.

"Hey," said Millicent, her voice soft.

She reached across and covered one of Daphne's hands with her own.

"Hey, Greengrass, it's okay. Everything is different now. Do you need to talk?"

"Yeah, later," said Daphne, wiping the last tears from the corners of her eyes. "Sorry. Don't know what got to me."

"Don't worry about it," Potter assured her. "It happens. Madam Pomfrey can fix you up with an appointment. There are witches trained in talking to people like us. I don't know what they did all last year. Hid out, I suppose. We both talked to one, the first day."

"That's where I got the self-confidence," Millicent continued. "I went back to work. I walked right up to this one and said, 'Potter, don't even think about hitting on me. I don't like wizards. Like that.' He just stood there."

"What did you expect me to do? Act surprised?" asked Potter. "Anyway, so we went back to work and while we worked we talked about all kinds of things. Honestly. No bullshit. I sweat through my shirt."

"That part I liked," observed Millicent, a puzzled face saying she hadn't yet mapped the full spectrum of her emotions.

Daphne Greengrass sat, silent, looking between the two. 'I go away for two days…' she thought.

"Eat up," said Potter. "Time to go get our assignments. Got to get this place ready for start of term."

Millicent went to her room in the dungeons and retrieved a pair of knitted gloves with leather palms from her trunk. She found Potter and Greengrass at their assigned worksite where she laid the gloves on a nearby boulder and cast some kind of charm.

"Try these," she said.

Daphne Greengrass picked up the pair of what were now heavy leather work gloves.

"They fit!" Daphne announced, sounding pleased with both the magic and the gloves.

They cleared rubble all morning long, sometimes picking up smaller pieces and tossing them onto piles, sometimes using magic to handle boulders too large to move by muscle alone. While they worked, they shared experiences of the past year. There was an unspoken gossip ethic at work. By agreement, all could decide for themselves if they weren't ready to go into some topic. Backs could turn and eyes could be wiped whenever necessary.

Potter stopped working to cast a charm on himself.

"Aguamenti!" he said, resulting in a gush of water pouring out of his wand's tip.

"Anyone else?"

The other workers declined.

Potter was working in a tee shirt, which was now soaked with water and sweat down to his midriff which mysteriously triggered a memory for Daphne.

"When can you come by the house?" she asked, picking a loose cobble from the turf.

"I don't know," said Potter.

He tried to remember if he had commitments, drew a blank and improvised. No one had said anything about Sunday work, one way or another.

"Sunday?" he asked.

"Sunday, lunch," Daphne Greengrass confirmed. "Millie, you're welcome, too."

"I appreciate it, but I think I'll leave you to it this time," Millicent said without hesitation.

"Thanks," thought Potter.

He chanced a quick flick of his eyes toward Millicent, who'd turned her head away from Daphne. Potter suspected she was hiding a smirk, so he let it go.

He made a mental note: 'You owe Millicent. Buy her lunch sometime.'

Most of the crews worked until noon on Saturday before knocking off to start the weekend. Potter had some things to do so he excused himself when everyone headed for the Great Hall.

"I smell soup!" he said when he'd apparated to Andromeda Tonks' place.

"Brilliant," said Andromeda.

Potter stood over Teddy Lupin's cradle for a minute or two, watching his godson sleep. Teddy worked his mouth when he slept, like many babies. Unlike any baby Harry had ever seen, Teddy changed his hair color, from sky blue to bubblegum pink to violet to chartreuse.

"How does he do that?" Potter asked.

"I'm not sure anyone knows," said Andromeda. "Dora did it, too. I don't think they can be controlling it, as babies. Dora did learn how, before she went to school."

Andromeda turned back toward her stove. Potter suspected she'd gotten emotional, thinking about her daughter, Teddy's mother. Nymphadora Tonks, an auror, had been very kind and friendly toward Harry. She hadn't given off an air of authority or demanded deference from anyone who wasn't an auror. The only thing she really wanted from people was that they call her 'Tonks.' She detested her full given name. Most people she knew complied. They really didn't want a conflict with Tonks.

When Tonks and her husband, another Potter friend named Remus Lupin, perished in the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry became close family to Andromeda Black Tonks and her grandson, Harry's godson, Teddy. The baby was certainly destined to receive an invitation to attend Hogwarts. The spectrum of hair colors was a clear demonstration that the child was magical, just like his mum and dad.

Potter broke away from little Teddy's cradle and went to the bathroom to wash up. He returned to the kitchen, where Andromeda had just ladled a bowl full of chicken noodle soup and put it on the table.

"Dinner rolls," said Andromeda.

She brought a baking pan from the counter. It was still hot, judging by the levitation charm she used to handle the pan.

"I'd take a couple," said Potter as he leaned back in his chair.

Andromeda used tongs to extract two rolls from the pan. Potter split a roll and took a bite.

"Mmm…" he said, making just a bit of a show of savoring the warm, fresh bread.

"I'm going to eat and run," Potter announced. "I'm invited to lunch with the Greengrass family tomorrow and I need to wear something decent. Everything I own is a rag."

"Mother Morgana! Harry Potter is going to spend some money on new clothes? It's a miracle," Andromeda exclaimed.

She'd mentioned clothes shopping when he showed up at her house following the battle. Acknowledging, to be fair, that being on the run from late August until the following May could make shopping difficult, she'd quickly formed an unfavorable view of Potter's wardrobe and its current condition.

"Coming back?" asked Andromeda.

"I should stop and see Kreacher," said Potter. "Would you like some elvish help out here? Someone nearby when you're taking Teddy out for air?"

"Yes," said Andromeda. "Am I ready for it to be Kreacher? No."

"Understood, understood," Potter assured her. "I'll keep offering."

"I'll accept, eventually," she replied.

Potter ate quickly, then Teddy woke up. Of course he needed a diaper change, so Harry worked on that while Andromeda prepared a bottle. He debated staying and feeding Teddy then gave in when Andromeda insisted he get going before he frittered away the time before the shops closed.

Potter had heard about a unique store in London that he wanted to visit. It was in Diagon Alley, the most prominent all-magical neighborhood. The customers were mostly wizards. The store sold convertible items that could be worn in either Magical London or plain, ordinary London. Sport coats that became capes or wizard's robes, as the occasion dictated, green silk shirts that switched to staid, white-on-white dress shirts via a simple charm and so on.

"Aren't you…?" asked the employee who greeted him.

Harry Potter stared at the clerk.

"What? Why? I need a few items of clothing," said Potter. "Are my galleons good here?"

There must have been an edge to his tone, Potter thought later, because the clerk grew pale and most obsequious.

Taking his purchases home to #12 Grimmauld Place, Potter threw everything down on his bed. He stripped and took a shower, playing with the water until he got it to the exact temperature he liked, then letting it run down over his head, neck and back until his skin began to protest. He dried off and returned to the bedroom, getting dressed in his new clothes. The mirror said the emerald green silk shirt, Navy robes and tan cavalry twill trousers looked good, as he'd anticipated. Maybe the Greengrass' would find him acceptable.

Actually, he only needed one Greengrass to find him acceptable, just as long as she was the right Greengrass.

Potter considered spending the night in London but decided, since he had Sunday morning free, that the responsible thing to do would be to return to Andromeda's and be a godfather until time to leave for his lunch with Daphne. Andromeda and Potter got up and around as usual. Teddy woke up while they ate breakfast. Potter changed him and brought him in to the breakfast table.

"One of these days you'll be sitting here eating scrambled eggs," Potter said.

"Goo!" said young Teddy Lupin, adjusting his hair color from flamingo to teal.

The morning went well until it was nearly time to go. Potter noticed Andromeda making a little grimace and taking in a slow, deep breath.

"Feel like you're coming down with something?" he asked.

"I don't know," answered Andromeda. "Probably just an upset stomach."

"Want me to stay? You could go to St. Mungo's. Have them check you out."

"Nonsense," said Andromeda. "You have a date. I can do a few hours. I am a big girl, you know?"

"Message received," said Potter. "I'll go, have lunch, probably back by three or four."

"Don't count on it," said Andromeda. "They may insist you stay for some dessert followed by a few hands of exploding snap."

Potter chuckled all the way out of the house and down Andromeda's lane, eventually leaving the warded area, disapparating and materializing on the lawn where he'd come with Daphne Greengrass. The sound of his arrival resulted in a shout delivered at volume.

"DAPHNE! HE'S HERE!"

The voice came from an open window to the right of the front door, which itself opened as the voice died.

"Harry!"

Daphne trotted out, down the short flight of stairs and on out to the front yard.

"Something from Andromeda, Miss Greengrass," Potter said, handing over a bunch of daffodils. "Nothing blooming yet, besides daffodils."

"So? They're lovely. It's that time of the year," said Daphne, accepting the flowers.

She paused, standing and looking at Potter. A little movement of her head in Potter's direction cued something and he leaned forward, a bit tentatively. That was all it took to bring Daphne's cheek within range and Potter gave it a little bump with his own.

Potter thought they'd be proceeding to the house but Daphne held back.

"You've accepted an invitation to lunch with the Greengrass family. You've even exchanged greetings with just the slightest bit of physical contact with the Greengrass Heir," she said.

Potter felt his face heating up as he stared into Daphne's eyes.

"Yes. If I was forward, I apologize," he said.

Daphne burst out laughing.

"Prig," she declared, quietly and affectionately. "Call me Daphne, please? No more Greengrass and Potter, between us."

"OH! Of course, thanks for giving me permission. That will make it all a lot less complicated," said Potter.

"Complicated?" Daphne asked as she took his arm to escort Potter into the house.

"You know. Magical manners," Potter explained. "They're kind of elaborate. I lost my parents young. Then I was raised by my mother's sister and her husband. They're muggles. Middle class, nice suburban house, social life very bland if compared to magical families."

"Ahh…do you like that sort of thing? The opening greetings, the back and forth, nods and inclinations, a witch's hand on her escort's forearm?"

"This will sound odd, but yes," said Potter. "My childhood fantasy life featured a healthy serving of King Arthur and Guinevere and all the rest."

"I don't hear anything odd in what you just said, only good taste as appropriate for a fine magical lad," Daphne said, smiling.

"That's—most appreciated, Gree—Daphne," replied Potter. "Seriously. Most appreciated."

They'd arrived before the front door, where Daphne paused.

"Here we are. Will you mind leaving your shoes? Mother has a rule," said Daphne.

Potter hesitated just a beat or two. He'd seen a substantial hole in the toe of one of his socks when he was getting changed. Now he wished he'd taken the time to mend it. He didn't know how, but Daphne assessed the situation quickly and accurately.

"Need a bit of repair?" she asked, whispering.

Potter swallowed, then nodded.

Daphne opened the door and they stepped onto a mat, just inside. Potter spotted a slightly elevated rack along the wall. It held a few pairs of shoes, the three-to-one ratio of women's to men's matching the demographics of the household.

"Take 'em off," Daphne muttered.

Potter followed instructions, slipping out of his shoes. Daphne's wand pointed at his toes and wiggled. In less than an instant his socks were newly hole-less. A couple might chuckle about something like that over the years and agree it was a precious moment. The kind of incident that would result in a comment, such as, '…and that is when I knew.'

Too bad Astoria Greengrass was peeking around a slightly open door to a room just off the foyer. She knew she shouldn't, but the pressure built and built, resulting in an unpronounceable sound like, 'K-Snerrk!'

"Astoria," grumbled a frustrated Daphne.

"Astoria!" scolded Mrs. Greengrass who was just coming down the hallway.

"Come on in, Mr. Potter, it's nice to see you again," she said. "Show him where to wash up, Daphne, get to the table Astoria. It's Sunday lunch and we know our guest has tales to tell."

Harry Potter actually liked Mrs. Greengrass' take-charge approach. It got him away from Astoria, with whom he was honestly vexed, although why he couldn't say. He also got a little more one-on-one time with Daphne.

Lunch was delicious. Harry tried to stay off the subject of his year on the run. He also avoided the conditions at Hogwarts between Dumbledore's murder and the return of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. He was highly complimentary, in his description of Daphne's work ethic, and contributions to the recovery.

"Do you all do a lot of the work around here yourselves? Because Daphne has some skills. Stamina, too," he said.

It earned him a glowering look from Daphne but Potter thought it was a good look for her. Serious. Determined. Industrious. He returned a smile for her frown.

"Daphne always liked fresh air and exercise," said Mrs. Greengrass. "The family spends most of its time in the country so she got plenty. Of both."

Potter, not wanting a second frown, kept his mouth shut. 'It shows,' he thought.

Andromeda was right, overall, but off on some details. Harry Potter did stay on after lunch. The program began with strolling some garden paths with both Astoria and Daphne. It was probably inevitable that the topic of conversation would be the physical state of Hogwarts and the prospects for having it ready by September.

Astoria was ready to go back inside when their circuit of the formal gardens finished.

"Okay," Daphne said when Astoria excused herself. "I've got Mr. Potter here, so I am going to make sure he gets the tour."

She didn't have to sell her plan to Potter.

"Right, no more frou-frou," said Daphne when they reached the gate to the vegetable garden.

"It's not quite June so the roots and the green leafies are coming right along. The squash and melons and cucumbers and so on will take their time and grow miles of vines before making the crop. Tomatoes, there."

Potter looked.

"All of those? That's a lot of tomatoes," he said.

"It is," said Daphne. "We don't eat them all. Mother has charities."

Potter tried to formulate an equation that explained the number of tomatoes that would come from the Greengrass tomato patch equating to a given number of charities. He noticed Daphne looking around.

"I did the best I could," she said.

"What?" asked Potter.

The statement had come from nowhere, even as Potter understood it had to come from somewhere.

"I did the best I could," Daphne repeated. "For the other houses. Muggleborns and half-bloods had a hard time. I wasn't the only one. It was a kind of underground. We weren't strong enough to have a proper revolt so we organized and tried to help. And be ready. When the time came."

Potter stood still, silent, processing Daphne's words and looking into her eyes.

"When the time came," he echoed. "We tried. It took too long. Oh, Merlin, I know we took too long."

Potter's eyes watered. He couldn't see so he closed them. Daphne was still there, right in front of him. He could hear her sniffles.

"I'll try to never let you down again," he managed.

A hand on his upper arm gripped and pulled him forward. Potter's opposite arm seemed, of its own volition, to reach for Daphne's waist.

"Hush," she said. "None of that. You didn't let me or anyone else down. It wasn't something you could control."

They stood, holding on loosely, soaking in warmth from the sun and the other's body. Potter felt something. An exchange. It was not anything he'd felt before. He began to lean back.

"I didn't mean to be…"

What? Forward? Fresh?

"Stay."

Daphne spoke, softly, in command. Her fingertip touched Potter's lips as the arm that lay across his back pulled him tighter. She didn't say more. When her arm relaxed they didn't pull apart. Daphne's cheek was hot where it touched his. Her body molded to his and his to hers from collarbone to knees. There was a flash behind their closed eyelids, they both gasped and felt a need to pull away, get their breaths back, lose some of that heat.

Potter spoke first.

"I apologize, Daphne, please…"

"No. Just no. Never, ever. I don't know what that was or what it meant but it was a gift. Thank-you, Harry Potter," said Daphne.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Magick," Daphne answered. "With a K."

"The kinds of things that come down from the old, old tales. The little bits and pieces that lie there in the children's stories waiting to be discovered by a young witch or wizard and then go on to change their life in some subtle way. Come."

She took his hand and walked him back to the formal garden, through the graveled paths to an ornate belvedere, where she conjured cushions for the wooden benches, before bidding him sit. When he'd picked a place she sat beside him, taking a hand and holding it between her two.

"I've read about that happening but I thought it was a standard literary, romantic device. Something the writer threw in to conclude the passage where the hero saves the damsel by slaying a dragon or swims for hours with her on his back. They reach the shore…"

"He gets a kiss before dying of exhaustion," said Potter.

"Sometimes. Yes, then she lays her body on his and feels his spirit enter her heart where he lives until they are reunited, in the end, in death," said Daphne.

"So literary," Potter observed.

"What did you feel? Can you describe it?" she asked.

"Warmth and…" Potter stopped.

Well, she asked. He looked into her eyes.

"I wanted you, right then," he said. "Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but you asked. That is the truth. I felt—you. Like touching only it wasn't physical. Which is a contradiction."

"Mm-hmm, so did I," said Daphne.

"What was that?" asked Potter. "Do you know? You have more knowledge of these things than I do."

"I'm guessing, you understand, but I am thinking it is a bond of some sort," said Daphne. "I owe you my life."

The words came out sounding so natural, like they were a commonplace she expected he heard a dozen times a day.

"What? Because of the battle?" asked Potter.

Daphne didn't look at him. Instead, she looked out across the gardens to the fields and woods beyond.

"No. Something different. How to explain? The pureblood faction of witches and wizards is one thing. The purebloods are mostly snobs. They aren't any more witch or wizard than anybody else who can work magic. Your friend Granger, for example. When she has time to study systematically she'll make us all forget about Bellatrix Lestrange. Seriously, I mean it. The pureblood ideology is something else. The ones who are fanatical and followed He-Who-Must-Not…"

"Must-Not-Be-Named," Potter finished. "Voldemort. Sorry, I interrupted you, please go on."

"Well, his followers amounted to a political movement," said Daphne. "Like a party. They wanted power, and they got it. Then they started purges in the Ministry and investigations into blood status. That always ends the same way. Like I said, there was the beginning of an underground right there inside Hogwarts. The Carrows weren't stupid. Someone would have talked, then the interrogations, then, where the dictators always go. If you hadn't come back when you did, who knows?"

"Going by some readings I've done, my magical core is viewing you in a favorable light because my sister and I were under physical threat and you arrived and put a stop to it. So when we were so close a moment ago, our cores just shared a moment."

He remembered his conversation with Hermione Granger after their encounter with Nagini in Godric's Hollow. Hermione was ruminating on giving up, going into hiding together. She was at least semi-serious. Had she been testing the waters? Potter thought often of that moment. If he'd been just a little more discouraged at the time, or slightly less determined to finish off Voldemort, once and for all, he would have done it. They could have emigrated to Australia, tracked down the Grangers, Senior, gotten some kind of qualifications and lived quiet muggle lives. There must be a thread, Potter thought. Sitting in a belvedere with Daphne Greengrass was giving him just a peek into why Magick and Destiny hadn't let him say, "Yes! Let's do it!" there in the forest.

They sat, together, Potter's hand between Daphne's. The angle of the sunlight changed as the afternoon slipped away. They watched as several deer loped across a field, disappearing one by one into the hedge on the far side.

"Can you come to dinner?" Potter asked.

"You wouldn't be taking me to some lair of yours? Would you?" Daphne replied.

"No—although that could be arranged, if you'd allow me a few days to tidy it up," said Potter. "No, I was thinking of a friend's place. If I could make a floo call before."

"Luckily for you," said Daphne as she stood. "We're connected."

They walked a path to the house, fingers touching now and then, exchanging gentle squeezes.

"Wait," said Daphne.

She'd brought him inside to the east-facing breakfast room.

Daphne didn't give any further explanation but Potter's hypothesis was that she had gone looking for her parents.

"Taking her out?"

The voice was a surprise. The speaker wasn't. Potter looked down. Astoria Greengrass had entered silently, an empty glass in hand. The silence came courtesy of a pair of thick white socks. Astoria noticed Potter looking.

"They get cold," she explained. "Lady Greengrass has a rule."

Astoria made a face that said, 'Go figure,' and rolled her eyes.

Potter semi-stifled a semi-laugh.

"I invited her to come over to dinner, but first I have to call the lady of the house, so Daphne must be finding one of your parents to see if they object. It takes longer to explain than it would to do it," said Potter as Daphne came back.

"Go away, Astoria," said Daphne. "Find your own."

"I think I just might do that," said Astoria. "Did you get your mommy's permission? I think I'd have just gone off with Potter and let them figure it out."

"Would you now?" came a voice from outside the room, from an unseen speaker who was obviously close enough to hear everything that was going on.

"Mommy says I can go if there will be responsible chaperones," Daphne said, directing her comment to Astoria, then looking toward Potter. "Floo's this way."

"Madame," said Potter, nodding his head as they passed Mrs. Greengrass.

He paused long enough to drop Andromeda's name.

"Go," said a smiling Mrs. Greengrass, adding a backwards flip of her hand.

After using the floo to confirm Andromeda and Teddy were receiving guests, Harry and Daphne took it back to Andromeda Tonks.'

They stepped out of the fireplace in Andromeda's kitchen, little swirling tendrils of fine soot coming off their cloaks.

"Andromeda, it is my pleasure to introduce Miss Daphne Greengrass, who is in my year at Hogwarts and also working on repairs to the school. Daphne, my godson's grandmother, Mrs. Andromeda Tonks," said Potter.

"Madame Tonks," Daphne barely whispered, bending her knees and inclining her head above Andromeda's offered hand.

"Up, dear," said Andromeda, lifting her hand beneath Daphne's.

Andromeda looked at Harry, questioning.

"Oh! Friends. From school, like I said," Potter offered.

"Uh-huh," agreed Andromeda.

Teddy Lupin let out a yowl from one room over. Harry Potter was dismissed with a little sideways toss of Andromeda's head. Daphne looked at Andromeda.

"This is a lovely house," she said.

"Thank-you very much," said Andromeda, peering after Potter.

She turned back to Daphne, taking her guest by the hand and leading her to a corner. There was a little table Andromeda mostly used for kitchen tasks—rolling out noodles or pie crust and such. There were two chairs, though, and it was very private, assuming one kept one's voice down.

Andromeda looked at Daphne, peering into her eyes.

"Friend from school? Have you cast runes or had anyone do it for you? How about cards? Know anyone who is good with them?"

"Madame, I know where you are headed and I assure you…"

"Of course, of course, your intentions are honorable, as are his," said Andromeda. "You picked that up right away, didn't you? Have you taken him anywhere? Prepared a meal or acquired one for him? Healed a little cut? Picked a flower and given it to him? I know the battle is barely over. And yet."

Andromeda's eyes were directed at Daphne while their focus seemed well past where Daphne sat. Daphne relaxed the hand that Andromeda held, letting the older woman's fingertips press and release, here, then there, accepting a soft stroke from her thumb.

Daphne took a deep breath although she didn't need to fill her lungs for any shouting, or even loud talk. She looked back directly into Andromeda's eyes.

"He came to our home…"

"Pardon me, that is?" asked Andromeda.

"The Grange at Greengrass," said Daphne.

"Devon?" Andromeda asked.

Daphne nodded.

"He brought me the daffodils. Thank-you very much. That got things going," she said.

"But your people haven't been there since the Creation, I don't think? Your father's line…"

"They were Cornish and Irish, I'm told, going back before the Angles and Saxons came. Mum is from Iona. They met at school."

Andromeda sat, smiling at Daphne.

"You brought him home to meet the parents? Accepted his floral offering? Fed him? And got him to bring you over here?" asked Andromeda.

"No! He invited me!" Daphne protested.

Andromeda got up, stepped to the doorway and looked through.

"Bring him on in when you're finished," said Andromeda. "We'd might as well all take some tea."

She returned to the little table, and Daphne.

"You were going to tell me about something that happened at your home?"

"We were walking, in the garden, Harry wanted to apologize to me for taking so long to finish things with…with his enemy. I was holding him, frankly, and we both felt some kind of, that's to say, something. Like we each gave the other something, only it wasn't a physical thing.

Within a minute or two Harry Potter brought Teddy Lupin to the kitchen. The witches moved to the plank table that could easily seat another eight or ten diners. Andromeda looked at Harry.

"What did you think of the Grange?" she asked.

"Impressive," answered Potter. "Nice grounds. The kitchen staff is world-class. Of course, I've been on short rations until the past few days."

Andromeda laughed out loud. Teddy gave a little jerk and looked around. He might have started to cry but Daphne stretched her arms.

"Harry," she whispered, flexing her fingers in a 'Give him to me!' gesture.

Potter handed his godson over. Teddy relaxed into the crook of Daphne's arm, smiling up at her and changing his hair color from blue to pink to a very happy daffodil yellow.

"What do you feel, Harry?"

Andromeda spoke without any preface, commanding Potter to answer.

Her voice was firm, almost giving Potter and Daphne a start. She wasn't short or hostile but she wanted information and she clearly knew how to get it.

"Uh. Ahh. It's kind of hard to say, exactly," Potter managed.

Andromeda dropped her voice, pitch and volume.

"Just say what you feel," she suggested. "There's no one here but us."

Potter's eyes were fixed on Daphne and Teddy.

"That is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," Potter said.

No one spoke. Daphne held Teddy, letting him grip her fingertip. She looked at Potter, sending him the slightest smile, then back at Teddy. Teddy looked up at a little bubble he'd produced with his lips before it floated away. The bubble changed colors, too.

Andromeda turned back to Daphne.

"Did Harry tell you anything? Before he press-ganged you into coming to a strange witch's house. About me, I mean," she concluded.

"You look very familiar but she's, uh," was as far as Andromeda got.

"Yes. Dead. My sister, Bellatrix," Andromeda confirmed. "I'm Andromeda. Our other sister is Narcissa. We were the Black sisters. You may have heard of us."

"There were some stories around the witches' dorm," Daphne admitted, before adding, "Slytherin."

Potter sat, listening, thinking, 'remember this remember this rememberthis!'

"Oh, I would think so, young Cornish-Irish-Ionian witch," said Andromeda. "Yes, we were quite familiar with Slytherin, seven years in the common room and the dorms. Now, let's talk about a couple of things. I'd bet a dozen galleons you go straight back to Brigid."

Daphne sat up straight, a little too fast, which made Teddy upset. He gave a little cry of protest.

Andromeda turned back to Potter.

"Have you kissed her? Held her?" Andromeda asked, her eyes boring into Potter's.

"Yes! Well, not the first, we hugged an hour ago. It was nice," Potter answered.

Andromeda's head snapped toward Daphne.

"Was it nice, young, noble witch?"

"It was…Madame, I…forgive me, it was something more. I don't know what. I'd never felt it nor heard of it. Never read about it. I took, or Harry gave me something and I think I might have given something back. We talked. I confessed I believe he saved my life, not to mention my sister and parents. I DO! Deeply. And he has been so kind and gallant and he took me into a—a work crew he has. They're very close. Comrades, bonded, somehow. It feels good to move rock and get sweaty and dirty with them."

Andromeda looked back and forth, smiling.

"It does, under such circumstances. You two may be embarking on something of an adventure. Are you going back to Hogwarts in the morning?" she asked.

"Yes," said Potter and Daphne together, resulting an exchange of grins.

"Hmm…more working together toward a common goal, sharing a burden, helping and accepting help. Well! That's enough of me going on," said Andromeda, standing. "Do you like some oil on your salad? Vinegar? Or plain?"

Dinner was simple, easily prepared and served, leaving plenty of time for chat. Andromeda knew Daphne's parents, although not very well. Daphne expressed sincere condolences when Andromeda told of Ted, Remus Lupin and her daughter, Nymphadora, who'd been mentored by Mad-Eye Moody. Daphne told of her family curse, which no one knew how to break because the wizard who cast it was long dead.

Andromeda took advantage when Potter excused himself.

"Do you find magic enjoyable? Feeling it work through you? Using it to do things?" asked Andromeda.

"I do," said Daphne. "It started, maybe two or three years ago, a sensation, I guess. Doing spells was always kind of fun but what I think you're talking about came later."

"That's typical," said Andromeda. "Keep reading. Maintain an open mind. I predict your magic is about to get much more…let's say, compelling."

Daphne nodded agreement

"And—between us, please—you're right. Mum, Gran and Great-Gran insist we are an unbroken line of women straight back to Brigid," Daphne said.

The sky was still light in the west when Harry Potter brought Daphne Greengrass home. Potter stood before the front door at The Grange, looking at Daphne. She looked back. The soft light gave her eyes a little natural shadow. He had trouble calming his thoughts enough to make sense, but he decided to try.

"I enjoyed myself, today. With you. And I'd like to do this again," he said. "Thank-you for a very interesting day."

"Interesting?" Daphne asked. "How?"

"I have to think about that," he answered. "Maybe you know more than I do?"

"Not now, but I know a couple of places to begin looking," Daphne smiled.

She leaned forward, so Potter did as well. This time there was no cheek bumping. Each tilted their head so their lips aligned. They lingered without pushing boundaries.

"Maybe we could talk after work, later in the week," Daphne suggested. "After we've had a chance to read a bit. Enough for an intelligent discussion."

Potter had to suppress a laugh.

"I'd like that," he said.

"Then we will make time," Daphne said as she stepped through the door.