Chapter Fourteen: Houghton House
The few days Daphne had at Grimmauld Place passed quicker than she thought possible. With Sirius giving them both lessons on advanced magic and her just enjoying time with both him and Harry, a fact which still surprised her, the end of Hogwarts term approached with alarming speed. It had been decided that Daphne would be sent home from the 'Hospital Wing' a day after term ended, and to save confusion at the platform and to stop the need to travel back to Hogwarts from Grimmauld Place.
"How you feeling?" Harry had asked from her bed as she packed the few clothes she had removed from her trunk. "About going home, I mean."
"Not great," Daphne admitted. She hated Christmas. Not the holiday itself, just the fact she had to spend it with her family. The only decent one out of the lot was her uncle, the Unspeakable, but she'd not seen him for Christmas in ages. "Mum gets really, mum, and it's not exactly my idea of fun."
"Sorry," Harry said, with an understanding she was beginning to learn came from his time at the Dursley household.
"Can't be helped," she had shrugged, slamming the lid shut and turning to face him. "At least Tori won't be stuck on her own."
It was going to be strange, she reflected as she dragged her trunk downstairs the next morning, to be living in Greengrass Manor with an Astoria she was no longer jealous of on sight. An Astoria, that for all intents and purposes, was a shadow of the sister Daphne believed she had had. There were still moments, irrational spikes of sibling rivalry, but mainly she just wanted the best for her sister.
"Say hi to your mother for me," Sirius joked as they reached the door. He was sporting a strange pair of festive antlers and doing his best to make the old house look every bit like a Christmas paradise. It was effect, given how dingy the walls were and how maudlin the entire aesthetic of the place had, that was quite alarming. Especially when she had come down that morning to see tinsel had been draped over the various elf heads in the hall.
"Sirius, if I can I'm not going to say anything to her all holiday."
"That's the spirit," Sirius grinned, before extending a hand for her to shake. It was still weird, shaking the hand of a convict. "Take care of yourself.
"You too."
"If you ever need anywhere in London to stop, you're always welcome."
"Thanks," Sirius nodded, before muttering something about finding Kreacher and heading back into the darkness of the house, leaving her and Harry to say their farewells. It had been nice, just the two of them, without the pressure of school and the DA. They had been able to just sit and talk for hours, and on one occasion say nothing at all as Daphne began re-reading some of her favourite novels while Harry mapped out plans on bits of parchment for the next DA sessions. The sign of a true friendship, she knew, was silence. Not every second needed to be filled, sometimes just being there was enough.
"I'm going to miss this," Daphne said, sadly, "not this," she corrected herself, looking around the dank and narrow hallway. "But this. Us. It's been nice."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, grinning widely. "It has. Shame you can't stay, I think Sirius is going to miss you."
"Who wouldn't? I'm amazing," Daphne said, sarcastically, swishing her hair and doing her best to look… well, something.
"But I should probably get going," she continued, irritated at the fact she would be leaving Grimmauld Place. It was, objectively, one of the worst places she had ever been. It was dark, uninviting and filled with far too many stuffed elves heads. And yet, despite all of that, it had been one of the best week's of her life. "I'll write to you soon, okay?"
"You don't have to."
"You really think I'm going to get through Christmas with my mother on my own? Pfft, no thanks. You're getting letters, Potter, whether you like it or not. Now, come here, give me a hug. I haven't got all day."
She was shorter than Harry, by more than a little way, so let her head rest against his shoulder for a second as they hugged one another. It was a long moment, longer than she had intended and when she broke away, she really didn't want to leave Grimmauld Place. Her chest was tight. That was new.
"See you soon," Harry said as she pulled the door open.
"Before you know it," Daphne grinned. But as the door swung shut behind her and the building disappeared from view, literally, her heart sank and the grin vanished. Grimmauld Place was in her past and Greengrass Manor, once more, was in her irritatingly close future. She pondered the idea of just going into Muggle London, maybe going to one of those cinemas Tracey raved about. She could get a coffee, sit on the Embankment and watch the world go by. Jealous of the Daphne that actually did do that, Daphne thrust out her wand hand and summoned, with her usual trepidation, the only way to get home.
The Knight Bus was, as ever, vomit-wrenching and by the time she finally reached the outskirts of Bedfordshire she had never been more pleased to see the ruins that were her home. Or at least, they looked like ruins. Houghton House, or as it was now Greengrass Manor, had been granted to a Muggle monarch in the 17th century before the house was abandoned in the early 19th century. That was the story as far as the Muggles were concerned, but as she walked closer the wards recognised her and the ruins became the vast house she had called home her entire life.
Red brick walls with huge windows soaked up the light that was attempting to pierce through the thick December clouds. Stone white gravel crunched under her feet as Daphne walked slowly up the long driveway, enjoying the near silence and the neatly kept grounds. In the summer she often retreated from the house and hid under the trees her grandfather had planted within the bounds of the protections which made the house look like an abandoned ruin to any passersby, magical or otherwise.
But before she had even made it up the driveway there was a loud crack and Mopsy, the Greengrass family elf, appeared before her positively beaming.
"Mistress is home!" the elf squeaked happily. She hurried forwards, taking the trunk Daphne had been dragging behind her without any warning. "Mistress is home. This is the most good news. I shall be telling Mistress Melissa immediately. Mopsy has missed you, Mistress. The house is empty, so sad, so lonely. It's good you're home, yes, very good!"
Daphne didn't even get a chance to reply before the elf, and her trunk, vanished with another loud crack.
"Nice to see you too, Mopsy," she said to thin air. The elf's chaotic, whirlwind energy was the exact opposite of her owner. An irony that Daphne had laughed at more than once at sophisticated dinner parties. She was dragged from her memories by a fierce wind whipping at her dark green robes. Thick, almost impenetrable storm clouds massed above her. It would probably rain soon and with a sigh, Daphne trudged towards the house. After all, a storm had to be worse than seeing her mother.
She was wrong.
As she stepped into the grand entrance hall of the manor she called home, a horrible, vile combination of pink and simpering smiles greeted her. Dolores Umbridge. Oh good. The Hogwarts High Inquisitor appeared to have not long since arrived herself, her pink cloak was being carried by Mopsy away into a small cupboard by the foot of the huge staircase and Melissa Greengrass was greeting her guest warmly. A warmth that neither woman extended Daphne as she entered.
"Ah, Daphne," simpered Umbridge, her toad-like face widening into what she thought was a friendly, welcoming smile but which made her look as though she was about to pluck Daphne from the sky like a particularly juicy fly with her tongue. The effect was quite alarming. "So good of you to join us, I was just informing Melissa that you had us all so worried up at the school. Quite a nasty turn. When you did not arrive at my class on Thursday, I rushed straight to the Hospital Wing but, alas, Madam Pomfrey would not let me see you."
"Shame, we could've played gobstones," Her mother scowled and Umbridge let out one of her irritatingly fake laughs. It was like walking into a nightmare. What was worse, she seemed to think she'd somehow caught Daphne in a lie. Her bulging eyes widening triumphantly and that sickly grin growing ever wider.
"I highly doubt it, given your condition."
"I was joking, I do that sometimes." Like when I'm being threatened in my own home, Daphne thought spitefully. "Now if you don't mind, Professor, I'd quite like to unpack."
"Just a moment," Umbridge giggled, and from behind her Melissa Greengrass shot her daughter an admonishing glare. Daphne took a great breath, steadying herself and pulling on what she hoped was a helpful, innocent smile. "I had a few questions for you and hoped, given Melissa's kind suggestion, that you would be able to help me."
"Do I have a choice?" Daphne asked, not Umbridge, but her mother. The silence was deafening as Daphne looked into the hard, stone face of the woman who had brought her into this world. A fact she was beginning to doubt more and more with every day. This was typical. It was just like Melissa Greengrass to throw her daughter under a charging Hippogriff she didn't see coming. Blind loyalty driven by bigotry and stupidity. Great combination.
Daphne had thought it would take her a few hours to miss Grimmauld Place. "Fine, ask away."
"Thank you," Umbridge simpered, "should we adjourn to the drawing room, Melissa? So that Daphne may make herself more comfortable."
"An excellent idea, Madam Undersecretary." Melissa nodded, inclining her head but never taking her steely glare off of her daughter. In fact, this was the most attention she had paid to Daphne in the last year. Wishing she could just leave, but knowing it would be far worse if she did, Daphne followed the two women to the drawing room.
It was a high ceilinged room adorned with massive chandeliers, like every other room in the manor it was the perfect temperature. A long, dark mahogany table sat in the centre of the room, surrounded at intervals but matching high-backed chairs. All of the furniture, like any self-respecting pureblood could say, was antique. In fact, Daphne couldn't remember the last time they'd ever bought anything for this room. Crystal glasses stood proudly on shelves, all etched with the family crest. It was all a vanity trip, a giant embodiment of why they were so much better than the 'wrong kind' of people. Ancient Greengrasses stared down at them, some nudging each other in their frames, others quite content to look as regal as they could beneath thick facial hair and refusing to move an inch. This, Daphne knew, was beneath them. That didn't mean they wouldn't all gossip about as soon as Daphne and her new found interrogators left.
Daphne found herself seated uncomfortably close to Umbridge. Any distance was too close, if she was honest with herself, but Umbridge had deliberately chosen the seat next to her, after pretending to admire the paintings on the wall. She shuffled her chair forwards, making sure to be no less than six feet away from Daphne, who was doing her best not to choke on her overwhelming perfume.
"Well, isn't that nicer?" She pulled a quill and roll of parchment from her pink handbag and smoothed them out on the table, giggling a little as she did so. The quill stood to attention on the fresh sheet of parchment, ready to take notes as Daphne, Melissa Greengrass and Umbridge sat waiting for the questions to begin.
Daphne, who had spent the last two days with Sirius Black and Mad-Eye Moody was the opposite of intimidated. Compared to the hulking figure of Moody, or the disarmingly charismatic but nevertheless hollow-eyed Sirius, Umbridge was about as threatening as dragon dung.
"Miss Greengrass," she began, in a clipped, formal tone. "I am sure you are aware of the rumours that there is an illegal student group designed to undermine the Ministry gathering at Hogwarts?"
"First I've heard of it," Daphne said simply, remembering her meeting with Snape and refusing to meet Umbridge's eye. While Snape was a talented, albeit obnoxious, wizard, she suspected the Umbridge wouldn't know the first thing about Legilimency. But that didn't mean refusing to meet her eye wouldn't infuriate her. It was also never a good idea to underestimate anyone.
"And is it true that you have struck up a friendship with Harry Potter?" Umbridge asked, unphased. Internally screaming, Daphne let her gaze drift to her mother. Dressed in fine dark green robes, Melissa Greengrass was the exact opposite of Umbridge. One was a kid's toy, the other an executioner's axe. If her mother knew the answer to the question Umbridge had posed, she didn't give anything away. Her face may as well have been made of stone. When Daphne looked at her, she didn't find guidance or hope, or even protection, she simply saw complete and total apathy. She may as well have been a discarded quill or a used inkpot.
So instead of lying, instead of trying to protect her mother's frail dignity and pretend to be anything else they all wanted her to be, Daphne told the truth. Just one word. That's all, just one little word. But it was enough to make that stone face crack.
"Yes."
Melissa's eyes narrowed. Not enough for Umbridge to notice. But a fraction, a miniscule motion. Now she was paying attention.
"Professor," Umbridge corrected, "but thank you for telling the truth, dear."
"We're not at school," Daphne pointed out, "so I don't need to call you Professor, Madam Undersecretary."
Umbridge's tiny little fists clenched. "Be that as it may, you are not denying that you are friends with Mr Potter? A boy who the Ministry has, on numerous occasions, labelled a miscreant and dangerous liar."
"Why shouId deny it? We're friends, so what? The last time I checked you hadn't passed one of those decrees saying we can't pick our friends."
"Do you think he's lying? Do you believe what he says?" Umbridge pressed, and from behind her Daphne could practically hear what her mother wanted her to say. 'Yes, Professor. Harry is a liar and a swine, I've been friends with him to tell you he's set up a defence club, please stop him. Oh, and while you're at let everyone know that we, the wonderful Greengrass family were the ones that helped bring this stupid boy to justice.' And so on. Nevermind what Daphne wanted, oh no, that could to hell as long as the 'family' thrived. A family she hadn't even been born into, that she had married up to get to.
"I don't know," Daphne shrugged, deciding that the truth here may be one step too far. She was annoyed, not an idiot. "Do I want to believe You-Know-Who is back? No. But I wasn't there, none of us were. I don't know what to believe."
"It's a fabrication," Umbridge insisted, clearly ruffled. "The boy is lying. You-Know-Who is not back. The Minister has said unequivocally that he has not returned. It is a lie."
"If you say so," Daphne smiled. One of the portraits, her great-aunt Mildred who had particularly large, round eyes, winked at her. "But isn't that just what Harry's doing? Saying what he thinks is true?"
It was so easy. For a seasoned politician, a Ministry employee no less, it was almost impossible not to get a rise out of her. Not because what Daphne said was especially annoying, Daphne could say far worse, no, it was because she couldn't do anything to stop her. There was no blood quill to threaten her with, no locked doors to hide behind.
"And to your knowledge," Umbridge persisted, her voice shaking, "has Harry Potter set up an illegal Defence club which, if he has, will result in his expulsion?"
"No."
"Why are you protecting him?" This was almost screamed.
"I'm telling the truth," Daphne said, simply choosing that moment to meet Umbridge's bulging eyes. "Sorry if it's not what you want to hear."
"Not at all, not at all," Umbridge simpered, giggling girlishly and putting Daphne's teeth on edge. "We must establish all of the facts. You see, I have it on good authority that Harry Potter went to Hogsmeade to set up such a club and that you, Miss Greengrass, were there. Could you explain that for me, dear?"
"I was there," Daphne answered, not missing a beat though her mind was racing. What she suspected Umbridge knew, she did. That educational decree had been no mistake and the Hog's Head really hadn't been the best place for the DA to meet. Merlin's beard she wished she had known Harry before he'd let Granger make that God awful decision. But it was made and she had to make the most of it.
"Aha!" Umbridge shrieked, clearly thinking she'd caught Daphne out in a lie. "So you do know, there is a secret organisation, isn't there? And you, Miss Greengrass, are a part of it!"
"No," Daphne said slowly, making every letter stretch out, hoping it would give her racing brain time to figure out how the hell she was going to get out of this. There was no denying it. She had been there. And Umbridge knew it. But then so had everyone else, hadn't they? They'd all been there and none of them had been expelled. It wasn't illegal then, was it? "That's not what I said. Harry went to the Hog's Head to start a club, sure. I was there, fine. I can't argue with you on that one."
"So -"
"I'm not finished. You see, Madam Undersecretary, it wasn't illegal then, or am I wrong in thinking that the particular Educational Decree you're referring to didn't come into effect until after that meeting?"
Umbridge looked livid. Any triumph that had leapt across her face evaporated, replaced by sheer incandescent rage. She looked like she'd just swallowed stink sap. Daphne, her heart racing, simply smiled gently ignoring the stoney glare she was still being sent from across the room. If that's all her mother had to throw at her, then she could damn well glare. She was done. Done hiding away from her mother's disapproval. Done avoiding the arguments and the disdain. If her mother wanted to hate, she could hate her. Daphne didn't care anymore.
"He never started it, it would have been illegal. So, he didn't start it. There is no club. It was just how we started being friends."
"And why did you want to attend such a club?"
"I want to pass my exams," Daphne answered, "and I didn't think I would work well from a book." Or from you, she added in the privacy of her own head.
"That is an officially Ministry approved syllabus that has been honed by Ministry educational professionals with your best interests at heart." Umbridge spat, her rage bubbling over as she now openly glared at Daphne. "It is perfectly designed to help you pass your assessments. Should you apply yourself properly, you will have no trouble passing."
"You misunderstand," Daphne said, taking great joy in watching Umbridge unravel like the loose thread pulled on a forgotten robe. "I didn't think I would work well. You proved me wrong. Sorry if I didn't make that clear. It was my mistake."
That, she hoped, was enough to explain why her test results had gone from Dreadful to Exceeds Expectations since she had started going to the DA. Umbridge physically deflated, trying to drag her simpering smile back onto her face with little success. The quill was scratching away obediently and the only noise as Daphne and the High Inquisitor stared at each other across what was becoming an increasingly smaller distance.
"So, according to you, Harry Potter is not the head of a secret club that teaches dangerous spells to innocent students? And you are not currently a member of said club?"
"I can't be a member if it doesn't exist," Daphne said, with fake innocence.
"And would you care to explain how you ended up in the Hospital Wing on Wednesday night?"
"No," Daphne answered, coolly. She had no idea what Pomfrey or Dumbledore had told Umbridge and there was no way she was going to be caught in a lie twice in one conversation. Besides, it wasn't any of her business. Umbridge could have all the power in the world and she still wouldn't have a right to know.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said no," Daphne insisted, aware that Umbridge's voice was losing its fake simper and becoming deadly quiet with every question. "It's private. I don't have to tell you if I don't want to. And guess what? I don't. I was unwell, Madam Pomfrey looked after me until I was fit to leave. That's it."
There was a long moment of silence as Umbridge stared at Daphne, who for her part sat there with a look of injured innocence on her face. That was until the High Inquisitor spoke again with no hint of false girlishness in her voice this time.
"Are you sure that you and Mr Potter are just friends?" A sick feeling washed over Daphne, she knew exactly what Umbridge meant by that. "After all, it wouldn't have been the first time teenage hormones got the better of students, would it? It wouldn't be your fault. It's perfectly normal, Daphne and there is time to rectify any… mistakes you may have made. You are, after all, only a child."
How dare she. The evil, insipid, bitch. She didn't know what was worse. That Umbridge had said or that her mother had let her. Daphne looked at her mother, who kept that same stoney face. There was no evidence she had even heard what Umbridge had said. She probably didn't even care unless it was true, then only because it would look bad.
"That's not what happened," Daphne said through gritted teeth. "I was unwell. That's it." She ran a hand through her hair, the knot in her stomach tightening as she saw the grin spreading across Umbridge's face. Her heart raced. Blood thundered around her, pounding in her ears. Something inside of her snapped. "You know what, we're done here."
"I am not quite finis —"
"We are not at school," Daphne snapped, breathing heavily and wishing that she could curse the evil old toad to within an inch of her life. "And my personal life has nothing to do with the Ministry, nor does my health. I don't have to say another word to you. Either of you."
And with that she stormed out of the room, refusing to let Umbridge or her mother see the tears of frustration well up in her eyes. It was only when she had burst into the safety of her room, ripping through the quietness like the roar of a dragon that she let the tears stream down her face. Frustration and rage pouring out of her, she wanted to hex that heartless, miserable, toad. Her heart was hammering, her jaw clenched and her breathing heavy.
From somewhere in the distance she was aware of the door to the manor shutting and peace settling over her home once more. Home? That was a joke. Her mother had just stood there, watched as that worm of a human had torn into her. To Umbridge she was just a silly little girl. It was a mistake she would not be given the chance to make again. As for her mother… she had hoped beyond hope that it wouldn't come to this. The last glimmer of any sort of hope had died, snuffed out in the wind of indifference. She couldn't kid herself any more. Her mother didn't love her. Not for the first time, Daphne wished her dad was here.
"Is she right?" It was the last voice that Daphne wanted to hear. Slowly turning, wishing that it wasn't true but painfully aware that it would because… why wouldn't it be?
"About what, mother?" Daphne asked, trying not to rise to the bait clearly being dangled before her. As much as she might hate being here it was better than being kicked out like Sirius had been. She reflected, dully, that it was probably a bad day when she compared herself to a suspected mass murderer with family issues.
"Potter," Melissa Greengrass said simply, her dark brown hair flowed perfectly over her shoulders and her icy blue eyes, the same eyes Daphne and Astoria had inherited from her, were piercing Daphne with a judgement and ease that Daphne was more than used to.
"Why don't you ask her?" Daphne snapped, tearing her eyes from her mother's and looking out of the window onto the clipped and perfect lawn. It stretched out into the distance, framed by an equally immaculate row of hedges behind which were tall trees, blocking the nearby muggle road from sight. See no evil and all that.
"You always were short-sighted," Melissa sighed.
"Me?!" Daphne yelled, rounding on her mother.
"We may not see eye to eye, Daphne, but I raised you better than that." You didn't raise me, Daphne thought bitterly trying not to yell at her mother. She remembered the army of house elves that had done her bidding when they were children, the endless parties and events, the men constantly trying to seduce the lady of the house. "Do you really think I would believe that?"
"With you mother, I have no idea."
"Then you really are your father's daughter," Melissa said, disappointedly. "He could never see when people were trying to manipulate him either. He always was too trusting. Madam Umbridge is, whether you or I agree, an exceptionally influential and important witch. There is a necessity in appearing to support her. Now, I'll ask again, is it true that you have taken it upon yourself to befriend the Boy Who Lived?"
"Yes." Daphne ground out, every word aimed at her mother like a curse.
Instead of reacting, Melissa regarded her daughter coolly. Framed in the doorway, neither entering nor leaving, simply passing judgement. "And why would you be so naive?"
"I don't know, mum. Maybe because I like him? Because he's a decent person, better than you anyway. Not that that's hard."
"Always the child," Melissa sighed again, it was taking all of Daphne's strength not to scream in her mother's face. It would just be what she wanted. "But, Potter is dangerous and aligning us with him, as a family, is a mistake and before you say it's just you, Daphne, as my eldest daughter what you do affects all of us."
"I'm not dating him!"
"It doesn't matter and your actions don't just affect you," Melissa said, her face still irritatingly passive. "Think carefully before you take anything further with Harry Potter. Our society is hanging by a thread and Potter is part of the problem. I will not have this family's name besmirched again."
What little had remained of Daphne's self-restraint disintegrated. Umbridge. This. It was too much.
"Oh yeah, like dad? Why can't you just say it? Oh no, how dare he not be a good little Death Eater. How dare he actually hate what he did!" She was shouting now, but didn't care, words that she wished she had said for years were tumbling out of her. "How dare he feel guilty, ashamed, broken! And where were you, huh? While he was losing himself, where the hell were you?"
"Where I have always been," Melissa said, her voice deathly quiet and her eyes narrowed. For the first time her cheeks were flushed. Daphne's tears, which she had wished would just stay hidden, were flowing down her cheeks, the memory of her father dragging her emotions, her sadness, her loss to the fore. "Protecting you and Astoria, or do you really, truly believe that you saw it all?
Daphne stared at her mother, what the hell was she saying? She'd been there. She'd seen her dad, watched him deal with his pain, sure he'd locked himself away some nights and Daphne had been busy with Astoria others but… Her mother had simply been an impassive figure at the edge of it all, looking after Astoria sure but never her. Maybe because, she wondered, you wouldn't let her.
"Daphne, you saw what I could not save you from. And I have spent my life making sure you and Astoria never found out what that life was like. Trying to get you to understand what everyone else would say. I might have been hard on you, but it was so much worse out there."
"You…"
"I wasn't there for you? I might not have coddled you, I might have watched you grow up too quickly. I might have hated what your father's death did to you while all I could do was prepare you for the fact that not everyone is going to love you, but they will all want something from you. Money. Favour. Family. We are purebloods, Daphne. It might not mean something to you, but it does to the rest of the world. I am not going to stand by and watch my eldest daughter, the heir to the Greengrass name, become a pushover who can be swept up by some man simply looking for an easy payday."
"I don't buy it."
"You don't have to, it is simply what happened."
Daphne tried to wrap her brain around everything her mother had just said. Sifting memories through this new lens and trying to reject the version of reality Melissa Greengrass forced on her. Her mother had pushed her harder than Astoria because Astoria wasn't the heiress. She wasn't some key to a vault and she wasn't the one that had to grow up first. She'd sacrificed Daphne's childhood for what? Money? Was that really it? Or she being honest, was she really trying, in her own perverse way, to look after her?
"It doesn't matter, I'll never be what you want, will I? I'll believe some of the things you say, the things you believe. I could never… I couldn't like that. I can't be the daughter you want me to be."
Bizarrely, Melissa Greengrass smiled at Daphne for the first time in what felt like years. It wasn't like Harry's smile, full of life and joy, or Sirius' haunted smirk. It wasn't like any smile she'd ever seen. Lips together, closed-off and yet full of pride, finally reaching her eyes. "I think you already are. My mother would have hated you, too strong-willed, but then I suppose you are your father's daughter."
It was not, for once, an insult. Had it ever been? Daphne's head was hurting, the wealth of new information drowning her. Everything she had believed about her mother was all tumbling down around her.
"If you truly wish to be friends with Potter, by all means do so. But I advise that you think carefully before you take sides. Being a pureblood may be abhorrent to you, but might I remind you that mudbloods have never ruled our world. They would seek our extinction before they sought our friendship."
There it was, the mother she'd known her entire life. The muggleborn hater and the bigot. Any walls that had started to be knocked down between them suddenly solidified. Daphne knew, having watched Tracey for the last few months, what that one word could do. It wasn't just a word or a name as Melissa Greengass had claimed for years. It was much, much worse.
She turned away, looking out of the window again and didn't look around as footsteps signalled the retreat of her mother, nor did she leave her room later that night when dinner was prepared. Sunlight faded and was replaced by pale, luminescent moonlight as Daphne's dinner appeared on her dresser. She didn't eat it. All she did was lie in bed, staring out of the window and despite the grandness of her room and the house she called home, she wished that she could be back in the dingy, dank and dark rooms of Grimmauld Place.
There Umbridge would never appear, there her mother would not claim to have protected her her entire life only to insult people based on a fluke of birth, there she had Harry. She wished more than anything that she could talk to him, or Tracey. Astoria… she was too close to this. She was alone, not for the first time in her life, in a home that felt alien to her.