Chapter Twenty-One: Taking Time
The trouble with trials, Daphne came to realise a few days after her interview at the Ministry, was that they took bloody ages. Why drag it out, pleading not guilty, to have your faults exposed to the world? The evidence against Umbridge was, happily, overwhelming. There was no getting out of it, so a trial wouldn't be necessary. No doubt the Minister had had a word, said a few things and hoped that it would all just go away if she pleaded guilty. Maybe a nice little column on page six of the Prophet. Yes, that would work.
It did not. The moment she was sentenced the Press went nuts. Exposės everywhere, led by the newly restored reputation of Rita Skeeter, of course. It was everywhere, accounts from her parents, ex-colleagues who had been too terrified to say anything, students that revealed how they'd been bullied and belittled in class. Everything.
If Daphne was honest with herself, she hadn't really seen it coming. The Prophet had always been dutifully reporting what they were spoon-fed by the Ministry — and by that, she knew that meant Fudge. The trouble was, it was hard to back up a man who at the least had no idea his employees were maniacs and at the worst condoned it. But she hadn't expected them to take a hold of Umbridge's case with such ferocity.
The news she really hadn't expected came the following Thursday. Since Umbridge's life had exploded onto the front pages, Daphne had taken out a subscription like quite a few other students at Hogwarts had done. She had sat down with Tracey that morning wondering what insightful and damning story the day would bring and nearly dropped her spoonful of porridge at the sight of that morning's story.
"You alright?" Tracey asked, "you look like you've seen a ghost."
"Not quite," Daphne said, turning the paper round to show Tracey. "Fudge's resigned."
"You're kidding," Tracey gasped as she stared at the magically moving and depressed figure of Fudge under the headline Minister Resigns. Both ignoring their respective meals, Daphne flattened out the paper so they could read the story which had taken up the entire front page.
Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, has today resigned amid the scandal that hit his office following the arrest of former Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge.
Fudge, who served as Minister for six years, said today: "It is with regret that I must step down. I, of course, knew nothing of what Madam Umbridge was doing. Nothing. But I cannot with good conscience continue to hold my position as Minister."
Fudge was instrumental in passing Educational Decree Twenty-two which enabled him to appoint Umbridge to the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts. Umbridge was found guilty of physically harming Daphne Greengrass, Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones earlier this month and Harry Potter in September last year.
A new Minister for Magic will be appointed in the coming days. Read more about the Fudge years on pages two to sixteen.
"Bugger me," Tracey breathed, "that's… that's insane. I mean, that's actually mental."
"Tell me about it." All of the pride and overwhelming sense of victory that had filled Daphne's chest over the last few days was suddenly disappearing. She had never meant for it to go this far. Get rid of Umbridge, sure, but not Fudge. He was the bloody Ministry. All she'd done was point out what was already happening, how had that gone from Umbridge's arrest to Fudge's resignation? As her mind scrambled, she saw Malfoy from across the table smirking triumphantly at her.
New Minister's weren't elected democratically, they were picked by a select group of witches and wizards that Malfoy's father had a very, very big say in. In interfering, Daphne could very easily have made this so much worse. It was one thing having a Minister who flat out refused to accept Voldemort was back, it was quite another to potentially have one who knew the truth and wanted to hide it. Merlin, she didn't think she could handle it if Malfoy Senior became Minister.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the elegant, large eagle owl Greengrass Family owl: Morpheus. His dark wings flapped once as he swooped over her, dropping a letter onto the paper and propelled himself back out of the hall. From bad to worse. This morning really couldn't get any more dreadful. It was the first time Daphne had seen Morpheus deliver a letter to her and not Astoria since her sister had arrived at Hogwarts.
Sighing, fully put off her porridge at this point, she snatched up the letter and tore it open. Tracey watched on with friendly concern, but said nothing. What could she say?
Daphne,
As you are no doubt aware, the Minister is resigning. I had hoped that you would see how toxic and potentially dangerous your continued relationship with Potter would be. I was surprised when I saw that you had antagonised Dolores Umbridge, but thought you may have considered your actions. It is clear to me now that you did not. Dolores, for her faults, was a powerful, important ally. Allegiance with her and the Minister kept us safe. Protected.
By aligning our family irrevocably with Potter I fear you may have permanently tarnished that safety. I may have said that I was happy for you to continue your friendship with him, and I was when I thought you would have the common sense to end it of your own volition. I was wrong. Therefore, I am giving you one last chance to terminate your friendship with him. He is far too dangerous and unpredictable. I will not in good conscience let you or Astoria end up like your father. He thought it was important to stand too, I cannot see you walk his path too.
End your friendship with Potter, now. I will not ask again.
There was no signature, just an angry fleck of discarded ink. Her hands had probably been shaking with entitled rage. Now it was Daphne's turn for her hands to shake, but her fury was far less entitled. Only last week she'd realised, well, been forced to realise how she felt about Harry. She wanted to take her time, feel out whether he liked her, maybe see what happens then who knows if it didn't work, well, they tried. All the fantasies she'd concocted in her mind of maybe seeing if he wanted to go to Hogsmeade in a few weeks, or just saying something as they studied, or asking him out to the lake like they'd done all those months ago. All of it was up in smoke.
She couldn't say anything now, not like that. Would she even say anything? Could she? The threat, vague as it was, was obvious enough. She wouldn't be the first pureblood to be kicked out of her own family. Look at Sirius. But she just liked him, it wasn't like they were madly in love or anything. That was the point though, nip it in the bud. Lovely little experiment but time to be a good little girl.
Then there was Astoria to consider. She wasn't just making choices for herself anymore. Astoria was becoming friends with Harry and the others too, stepping down her sister's blackened path, walking in the footsteps of the damned and the unwanted Greengrass daughter. Would Astoria want her to side with Harry, after all she loved their mother, didn't she? What was it she'd said, she'd already lost her father, she couldn't face losing her mother too? If Daphne chose Harry, then one way or another, Astoria was set to lose another family member.
White hot rage was bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Bile rose in the back of her throat as her jaw locked. Her eyes scanned over the words again, and again, and again. But there was no more meaning to them, no loop hole she could exploit, no clever answer she could give that would whisk it all away. This was it. Time to choose.
Without meaning to, she felt her gaze move over to the Gryffindor table. Harry was laughing at something Hermione had said, while Ron looked offended with a mouth full of food. Fred and George were smirking too, poking fun at their youngest brother. It had all seemed so simple. Becoming friends. Then it was just Malfoy and a few little Slytherins, nothing she couldn't handle. Even Voldemort had seemed so far off, so intangible that it was easy to say she could deal with him too, but her mother was very, very real. She couldn't take her eyes off his smile, wondering if maybe this was the last time she'd see it.
Did he feel the same? That was the question, wasn't it? If he did, maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it. If not she was risking being kicked out for good for nothing. She wanted to regret going to the Hog's Head. Wanted to wish that whatever universe existed where she hadn't opened that damned door was the one she was in. Probability suggested she was living in the smallest chance scenario. Yet, despite all the fear, all the worry, all the would-be regret, she couldn't bring herself to wish she'd closed the door.
"You alright?"
Tracey's voice dragged her back to reality. How long had she been staring? Quickly, Daphne folded up the letter and tucked it away.
"Yeah, fine. Sorry, just mum being mum."
"On at you about Umbridge?"
"Something like that," Daphne said, forcing herself to smile though she felt her heart crumbling to ash. Tracey would, at least, understand. She'd made the difficult choice to be shunned by everyone just to date Ron, her mother had been kicked out of her family because of her father. Daphne knew exactly how her mother spoke about Tracey's, it was disgusting, but the same way everyone would talk about Daphne, surely? If she did this, she was a blood traitor.
Everything felt distant. Her mind was reeling. The noise of the hall echoed in her ears, jarring her senses. She needed to think. Needed to breathe.
"Listen, I'm gonna, just... there's something I need to do. I'll, erm, see you in class, alright?"
She didn't wait for the reply and ignored the call of her name as she headed out of the Great Hall. Often in times of emotional turmoil, Daphne would lock herself in her room and wait until she could think of a good way out of whatever the hell was bothering her. Given that she shared a room with two girls who hated her, that probably wasn't the best plan, so instead of heading to the dungeons she stalked out into the cold winter's morning. She didn't even really notice it.
The frozen grass crunched beneath her feet. She wasn't sure where she was going, only that she felt herself stop by the lake and look out at its cool, undisturbed waters. If only she could jump in, sink to the bottom and never surface. Then, at least, she wouldn't have to deal with the mess of her own making. A mess, which in her heart, she was glad had happened. That was the real cruelty of it all. All she'd done was make friends. Perhaps more than friends. Just with the wrong person.
She pictured him, his smile, his eternally messy hair, his furrowed brow, the way that despite the fact an entire world was on his shoulders he always had time for her, his loyalty, his kindness, and even his occasional boyish obviousness. He was one of the best people she knew.
Shame the rest of the world didn't see it that way. Why could they not just leave her alone?
"Daph!" Why couldn't anyone just leave her alone. "Daph!"
The voice was all too familiar, the one she'd tried to ditch but knew she'd be unable to. Sighing and wrestling with her thoughts, she turned to see Tracey hurrying towards her. A cold mist blew out in front of her face as her hot breath collided with the cool air.
"You've been out here for ages," Tracey said, when she was finally within range of normal speaking distance. "You alright? What did your mum say?" When Daphne didn't answer she pressed on. "C'mon, I'm not stupid. I know she said something. Is it about Umbridge? Was she pissed off you got her arrested, 'cause if she is that's bloody —"
"It's Harry." Daphne admitted, in a low, wavering voice. She had not told Tracey of her revelation the previous week, having wanted to figure out exactly what was going through her head first. The small, 'oh' that escaped Tracey's lips, told her it wasn't news.
"What did she say?" But instead of speaking Daphne simply thrust out the letter she now realised she had crumpled up in her fist.
"Bloody hell," Tracey muttered, her eyes scanning quickly and her expression souring the further she got down the parchment. "Bugger me, that's, that's awful. Jesus, Daph. Are you alright? No. Stupid question. Of course you're not. Do you think she'd actually go through with, well, whatever the hell this is?"
"I wouldn't be surprised. Look at your mum."
"But Harry's half-blood."
"And a filthy, lying, attention-seeking blood traitor." Daphne said, imitating the voice her mother used so coolly. "Muggleborn mother too. Scourge of all good Purebloods. Yeah, she'd kick me out."
"But I thought you said she was okay with it?"
"Apparently not."
It had seemed odd even then that Melissa Greengrass would so willingly roll over on the topic of Harry. Surely she would have wondered, like Umbridge, had if something was going on. Mind you, she was also not stupid. Daphne had never once done anything her mother had told her without fighting it first.
"So, it's either I lose one of the few friends I have or my mother, family and potentially any respect Pureblood families have for me. Which, given the givens, could mean anything from terrible job prospects to straight up murder when Voldemort eventually comes back."
"He's not just a friend though, is he?"
Something inside Daphne twisted horribly. She didn't need to ask how Tracey knew, it was probably written all over her face. "No, not anymore."
"So, it's not just abandoning a mate. Which, by the way, is bad enough."
"Why do you think she's making me choose? One last chance before I get too invested and she has to deal with the embarrassment of having a daughter dating Harry Potter." She felt her lip curl as she imagined the disgust on her mother's face. "And I dread to think how her lot'll take it. The Rookwoods. Nothing but a bunch of Death Eaters themselves. Dad banned her brother from ever going to the Manor. The wards still won't let him. I'd be disowned. And then when he's back properly, who do you think dear old Voldemort's going to target to get to Harry?"
The conversation she'd had with Sirius at Christmas was suddenly becoming all too real. It wasn't just herself she was putting in danger. Maybe that was it. Maybe Melissa was scared for her life. Maybe being banished would save them. Her and Tori. Another wave of anxiousness stabbed her stomach, twisting as she thought of what Voldemort could do to Astoria. She was neither proud nor guilty to admit that Melissa's fate had not crossed her mind.
"So what are you going to do?"
"I haven't the foggiest. I mean you hear about it, don't you? People like your mum. They get kicked out for loving a muggleborn or a muggle, but you never think it'll happen to you. You never think it'll be your mum burning your photos, your mum scratching every record of you from sight, your mum —" Tears were forming in her eyes, hot on her ever cooling skin but she wiped them away furiously. "No. You don't think that, do you? Cecause for you it'll be different. For you, it's fine. It won't happen. Then it does and your world isn't the same anymore.
"And what can I do? What can I actually do? If I say this is it to Harry, how can I look at her again? I can't. I can't look into her face and think, 'yes mum, you did do the right thing.' 'What a great person you are.' All I'm going to see, all I'll ever see, is what a blackmailing, evil, twisted cow she is. So what's better? Hating her forever but losing out on maybe, sort of something, or just letting them go in the hope that I'll be safe, that he won't come after me. That he won't go after them."
Unsurprisingly, Tracey was silent. "Yeah, my thoughts exactly." The anger that had been bubbling inside her since she had read the letter was beginning to simmer, leaving only a growing sense of hopelessness in its wake. It was not a feeling that came naturally to her.
"I mean, what am I going to do? Where would I go? Even if I do what she asks…" she trailed off staring into the lake, once against wishing to be beneath its shimmering surface. "There's just no right choice. No good idea. Lose my family or lose a friend. Put people in danger or step back and hate myself. Hate her. You know, I used to think this was all so easy."
She laughed a mirthless laugh. How could she have been this stupid? To think that her mum would just be okay with her being friends, or something else, with Harry. How had she, of all people, not seen this coming?
"You'd always be welcome with us," Tracey said, eventually. "Mum and Dad'd put you up, we've got a spare room. I know it's not the same, but you wouldn't be on your own, Daph. Whatever you choose, I'm not gonna let that happen."
"Thanks, Trace." Daphne felt her gaze pulled out to the lake, the various permutations of her choice rolling out in front of her. None of them were good. "What would you do?"
"I'd tell him, then if he says he doesn't want anything to do with you anymore you can go back to your mum and say it's done. If he doesn't, well, I grew up around it working, it's not easy but you make it work."
"And what if it works for a bit and then it stops?" What if I'm not any good at being with someone? "What if it all changes?" What if Voldemort wins and Harry dies? "What if he doesn't even like me?" There was no internal anxiety lurking behind that particular question, so Daphne's mind let her be.
"That's the thing, you don't know. It could be nothing, it could be the best thing ever. Harry's a good guy, nothing horrible will happen. Not from him anyway."
"So you're saying I should just give up on mum for a chance?"
"Better than hating her more than you already do," Tracey said simply. "You'll just drift apart anyway when you leave home and then what does it matter? I mean, sure, you can just live the life everyone wants you to live. I tried that. You start to hate yourself after a while, trust me. You showed me I could be something else, something better. Think it's only fair if I do the same." There was an awkward pause, as Daphne continued to stare out the lake, aware that her best friend was eyeing her with a mixture of concern and understanding. "Look, we'd better get going. Flitwick's gonna dock points if we're too late."
"Yeah, alright." Daphne sighed, letting herself finally be dragged away from the lake. Her mind began permeating and planning, guessing and premeditating but all the while stoking a continuing and red hot fire of rage towards her stupid mother.
oOo
The Dark Lord despised people. He despised that he had to rely on them. Despised their words, their excuses, and above all their pathetic complaining. Screams filled the abandoned house he and Wormtail had called home since his return. Large open windows let shafts of moonlight be cast across the dark wooden floor. The room itself was entirely empty, save for the man writhing on the floor. And then, with a wave of his wand, Voldemort finally allowed the man a moment of peace. Just a moment.
Augustus Rockwood cried.
Greying brown hair fell across his face as he curled up on the floor. Out in the corridor behind him, Voldemort knew that the rest of his followers were listening. Good, they should hear it, should know what their incompetence would cost them.
"You have failed me, Rookwood." Voldemort said in his high, cold voice. "Bode could not take the prophecy. No-one can take the prophecy, except the boy. The boy is the key, Rookwood and you knew it."
"Please, my lord, I thought, I hoped —"
"I do not have time for your hopes, Rookwood. Nor do I care about them. I want that prophecy."
"There, there could be another way, my lord. My niece, she is… she is close to the Potter boy."
The wand that Voldemort had raised ready to strike Rookwood again, drifted down. Not entirely, Rookwood could still disappoint him yet.
"Her name's Greengrass, master," Rookwood warbled quickly when he realised the silence was his time to speak. "Daphne Greengrass. She's the one Lucius was talking about, the one who got that Umbridge woman arrested. They're friends, her and the boy. My sister, she could, could…" Rookwood's voice trembled in both fear and the memory of his own agony. A low hiss sounded from the snake coiled around Voldemort's feet. "Could try and turn her, my lord. Or we could attack her. Like her father, you remember?"
"Ah yes, the Greengrasses." So useful. It had been Lucius' idea, after all, what was another Pureblood lord joining his army. Then if the worst should happen, as it had done, his actual Death Eaters could avoid detection. The Greengrasses had been such an annoyingly neutral family, apparently their indifference had only lasted a generation. "Very well, Rookwood. This is your task, but do not fail me this time. I have no time for failure."
"Yes, my lord. Thank you."
"Go," and with a flick of his wand, Voldemort watched as Rookwood sailed out of the open doors. There was a sickening crunch as he slammed into the wall, met with muted sobbing. Voices were whispering, but Voldemort ignored them. His failure to once again get the prophecy had been infuriating, yes, but this could be an altogether new angle to finally get to the boy. He allowed himself a small laugh before setting to work on exactly how Daphne Greengrass would become his.
oOo
Late January rolled into February. Cold winds and crisp mornings were replaced by a perpetual sort of dampness as rain continued to pour above Hogwarts. Life was returning, slowly, to normal. Defence Against the Dark Arts was taken up by a very narrow framed, quiet wizard called Professor Herring — who had a thin moustache. He, like the students, regarded what they had been learning as utter nonsense and insisted that they start learning spells rather than just reading about them.
The DA was formally announced as a school club by Dumbledore, although with a small name change to the Defence Association — although everyone still called it Dumbledore's Army. The problem with announcing it to the school was that a lot of people were suddenly very interested. Instead of the usual small clusters Harry had been used to teaching, he was now facing the impossible task of trying to teach almost forty or so students. Some just came to see what was going on and disappeared after a session or two, but quite a few Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and the odd younger Slytherin had decided to join the ranks on a full time basis. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep track of names, and he finally understood why at the beginning of his first year Professor Sprout had insisted that Dean was actually Seamus and that Seamus was Dean — until Parvati Patil politely pointed out that she had got it the wrong way round.
His Occlumency lessons were also eating into his precious free time, although thankfully he was no longer dragged to the dungeons to have his mind battered by Snape. Instead, Dumbledore had arranged for Professor McGonagall to take his lessons.
"I am not as competent as Professor Snape," she admitted, when Harry asked why it hadn't been she who would teach him in the first place. "Don't look at me like that, Potter. I am a Transfiguration teacher, not an Unspeakable. I can't do everything."
After a week's worth of lessons with Professor McGonagall, he was inclined to disagree with her. Despite not being anywhere near as skilled as Professor Snape, they were making much quicker progress. She kept having to stop to refer to books or notes she had been passed from Professor Dumbledore or Snape, but the slow progress meant that he actually had time to understand what he was being taught. Rather than being told to 'clear his mind' every five minutes.
He was also, finally, starting to actually get some sleep for the first time in months. Every night he would do the same exercise Daphne had taught him, and most nights he would actually have normal dreams. There were still occasions where he would stare blankly at a locked door at the end of a long corridor, but they were few and far between. They were also filled with less longing, as if he was disinterested now rather than desperate to see what secrets lay behind it. It was as if he was watching a film, rather than living the moment.
The arrival of February also meant that another Hogsmeade trip was around the corner. Thanks to the fact that Ravenclaw were playing Slytherin in the next match, Angelina had finally allowed them an entire weekend off.
Ron and Tracey had plans, which Ron sheepishly admitted to Harry he was very excited about one night at practice — out of earshot of the Twins. Hermione had asked him to meet her and Rita Skeeter in the Three Broomsticks, much to his displeasure.
"Oh please, Harry." Hermione had said. "It won't be long, and it'll be worth it. Trust me. With Fudge gone it's about time people got to hear your side of the story."
Harry relented after almost a week of badgering. The practical upshot meant that until lunchtime, he was free to do whatever he wanted in Hogsmeade. Had he asked himself what he'd have liked to do in September, given the opportunity to spend time in Hogsmeade without Ron and Hermione, his answer would have been a date with Cho. But Cho had remained elusive, despite the fact that the DA was now officially sanctioned by the school. This time, however, he did not need Hermione or Daphne to explain why Cho was still avoiding him. The school was set on the idea that there was something going on between him and Daphne, something that had gained nothing but traction since she had carved into her own hand to take down Umbridge.
Part of him wanted to avoid taking her to Hogsmeade simply to save them both the stress of being stared at by gangs of students, or worse insulted by Malfoy. The only reason he hadn't sought Malfoy out after what had happened in the dungeons was because Daphne had asked him not to. If he tried anything in Hogsmeade, well, Harry wasn't entirely confident how well he'd react.
The rest of him wanted to ask her. He loved her company and was genuinely excited about the idea of spending time with her outside of Hogwarts. The few days they had spent together at Grimmauld Place had been some of the best of his entire Christmas. But the nagging voice in his head that this was all too much, that keeping it safe was the best thing, kept his lips sealed and his feelings to himself.
There was a small part of him, a part of him that smiled whenever he saw her, the part of him that had wished he could tell her how pretty she looked, that wondered if it wouldn't be that bad if she did. It wasn't like with Cho. His stomach didn't drop, nor did nerves prevent him from talking. It was something else, something real. He relied on Daphne and spent more and more of his time with her.
Just like that evening. With no practice, DA, or meeting with McGonagall, he and Daphne had arranged to try and deal with their Astronomy homework in the Grounds that evening. It was the first time he had seen her in about a week. Tracey had told them Daphne had been ill during their last DA session and with everything else going on he'd barely had a chance to see her for their normal study sessions.
"You should ask her," Hermione whispered conspiratorially while Ron was busy loading food onto his plate. "To Hogsmeade. I know you want to."
Harry cast a glance over at the Slytherin table where, once again, Tracey and Daphne ate secluded away from the others. He couldn't help the small pang of guilt that shot through, nor could he stop thinking how he might be to blame.
"She'd say yes," Hermione continued, not one to be put off by stony silence. "She clearly likes you."
That got his attention. "What?"
"Oh come on, Harry. Are you really that blind? Of course she likes you, do you think anyone else would suggest taking down Umbridge just to keep you safe, or risk upsetting their family or house just to spend time with you? There's so much stopping you being friends, yet she's doing it anyway. What's the worst that could happen?"
"You know Voldemort exists right?"
"Harry, if you think like that you may as well be a hermit. You deserve a life. Ask her, you won't regret it."
They fell into an uncomfortable silence, but were saved from addressing it when Ron started complaining about Potions. After dinner he bade Ron and Hermione good night, Ron had begun piling on his second load of shepherd's pie as he left, and headed to the Grounds.
The night was quiet as he walked to the lakeside where they had agreed to meet a few nights previously. A cool wind stirred his robes, and the sound of it whistling through the trees was oddly eerie. There were no other students out there, and far off in the distance Harry could just make out Hagrid trudging towards the forest.
As he neared the lake, which reflected the clear night sky above him in almost perfect clarity, he remembered the night he had stormed away from Ron and Hermione and sought refuge out in Grounds. Daphne had been there that night too. He had wondered for weeks after why she had bothered to come out and talk to him, suspecting some kind of scheme or plot. But he had soon learned that Daphne, for all her talk of ambition, would be there when it counted. So why did he want to push her away? Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe he should say something.
She had got there before him and had already laid out a blanket for them and summoned bluebell flames in a jar for warmth. She didn't notice him at first, her head buried in the latest in a long line of novels she was reading. Harry wasn't sure of the titles, she burned through so many books that he found it hard to keep track. For a moment he didn't announce his arrival, not wanting to burst her bubble. Then, when he could no longer wait, he said her name and made it look as if he had only just spotted her.
"I wondered when you were going to show up," she admonished him jokingly as he sat down on the blanket, bathing in the warmth of her fire. "You know nobody likes late-comers. Tardiness is not an attractive quality."
"I'm not even late."
"But I was early, so you made me wait. That counts as being late."
"Well, I'm sorry. That better?"
"Too late now, guess you'll have to make it up to me." She smirked, giving him her usual mildly superior but nevertheless amused look. Daphne had a way of managing to constantly condescend the people she disliked, yet support those select few she was close to. "You can sort the food next time."
And indeed she had brought a small array of sandwiches, chocolate frogs and fruit that Harry in haste to enjoy the flames hadn't noticed. For a moment he was taken aback at the mildly uncharacteristic level of thought, but then simply chalked it down to the fact that in the library they were never allowed snacks.
"What is it with you bringing me food here?" He asked, helping himself to a chocolate frog and ripping the packaging open with ease.
"In the first instance, a classic bargaining tool to show good faith." Daphne said, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to confess. "Today, well, today I'm just feeling generous."
"I could get used to you feeling generous," Harry grinned, having already dispatched the first frog he reached for a second. His card collection was nowhere near completion, unlike Ron who had said he'd swap Harry anything if it meant he could get one of the last six cards that continued to elude him.
"So could I," Daphne said, and there was an odd sadness to her voice that even Harry — who himself was happy to admit that he rarely picked up on the finer points of female conversation — noticed. But before he could press the matter, she had pulled a small smile onto her face. "Now then, Astronomy. She wants an accurate map of Orion's belt, Merlin only knows why."
What followed was a bizarrely fun and yet somehow also subdued evening. The pair noted down the various stars and their positions, each taking turns at the telescope. Thanks to this being a magical telescope, Harry did not have to readjust it every time he went to look through the lens. It simply adjusted to his eyes without even the slightest delay, despite the fact that Daphne had perfect vision while he could barely see her whenever he pulled away from the telescope.
But Daphne herself seemed quieter than he'd ever known. Every time he looked over to her she would stare at him intently but then, when she noticed he was looking, avert her gaze. Sweat began to stick in his palms as they packed up their things. The wind was biting at his skin, despite the bluebell flames Daphne had summoned. The all too familiar bouts of nerves were starting to take hold of him now. Butterflies fly exasperatingly fast in his stomach. That was it. He was sick of being afraid. Sick of wondering what Voldemort would do. Sick of having a half-life. He was going to do it. He was going to ask her.
His mouth was dry.
Just ask her, she's right there.
The words didn't come.
Just ask her.
"Daph," he said, as nonchalantly as he could manage. He was suddenly aware how high his voice sounded. Did he normally talk like that? Hastily, he cleared his throat and smiled as she looked up. "I was, er, can I… can I ask you something?" Great job, way to sound like an absolute arse.
"Sure."
"Er," his heart was pounding now. A small frown creased her brow, like it did when she was thinking. He'd seen that frown so many times when they'd been doing homework. He dragged his thoughts back to the overwhelmingly, agonisingly long, drawn out present. How long hadn't he been speaking? "Right. I was just, well, I was wondering… if you'd like to come to Hogsmeade with me?"
He was not sure what reaction he had been expecting. Maybe a yes, or perhaps clarification 'was this a date' that kind of thing. What he was expecting was the small, weary sigh that escaped her lips.
"You had to ask," she seemed to be speaking more to herself than to him. He was getting more than a little worried now. "This isn't a you thing, by the way." she said quickly, seeming to cotton on to the sudden panic that had gripped him. "I'm sorry, I'm not making much sense, am I?" She tried a laugh that died almost immediately in her mouth. Harry just stared at her, too confused as to what the hell was going on to muster words. "I suppose I owe you an explanation. And then perhaps an answer, but first there is something I need to tell you."
There was another sigh, as she looked out at the lake. Then, as if it caused her great pain to do so, she began speaking. "Last week, or maybe a week and a half ago, I got a letter. Now, the contents of this letter were, shall we say, upsetting. I haven't told you because I liked it. I liked you not knowing. I liked being able to pretend it would all go away and that we could just carry on as we always have done. And I'm sorry for that, Harry. I really am. But sometimes, sometimes… I just ignore things. I was the same with my dad really. For years I didn't want to deal with it, so I just ignored it. Filed it away.
"But I can't ignore this. As much as I might want to. Tracey's right. You of all people have a right to know." She took a deep breath, turning to face him, her blue eyes never leaving his. For the first time since he'd known her she looked scared. "I like you. Not that let's be friends way, in that I really like you way. Trouble is my mother," she said that word with disgust, "has taken it upon herself to insist that I never speak to you again. You can guess why. So that leaves me with a choice. You or them."
"Daph —"
"Please, not yet." Her breathing was becoming more and more ragged. "I thought it would be easy. No mum, no problem. But it's not just her, is it? It's Tori too. Then if I do continue to talk to you, regardless of anything I've just said, what then? My family would have to go hiding, obviously, or I'd be kicked out of the house. Like Sirius. An embarrassment. A mistake. Too loyal to those my allegiance should not wander to. Until, of course, you beat him. Or you don't, in which case God help us all.
"I've been trying to wrap my head around it all. But there's no right answer, is there? Tracey's all for me just saying how I feel, being who I want to be, all that. I guess 'cause her mum managed, why can't I? Only her mum was marrying a muggle. Me? I picked you, didn't I? Because the problem is Harry, there's no guarantee it'll work. Me and you. I mean you might not even like me. And even if you do, there's so many possibilities. And that's the problem, I don't know what's going to happen. But you see, that's not how I work. I have to know, it's built in me, I can't help it. But with you, I've never known. You're like this blip, and I make choices that might blow up in my face but I don't care. I thought it's just 'cause we were friends, good friends, but it's not."
She stopped, seeming to look at him for answers, but he couldn't find any. His mind was equal parts jubilation and panic. She liked him, she actually liked him, but they might never see each other again. He couldn't ask her to stop seeing her family, for him. Couldn't ask her to cut herself from everything she knew for what, the fact they liked each other? Now, more than ever, he hated the scar on his forehead. Hated the fact that Voldemort had sought him out, had stopped him from just living a life he wanted to live. The Harry Potter whose parents were alive wouldn't have to sacrifice this, or put his friends in constant danger, he'd just be a kid. A normal kid.
"So what are you saying?" He managed, he shouldn't say it. Should he just say he didn't feel the same, then it'd be easy. Then she wouldn't have to do anything. They could go their separate ways. But she had always been honest with him, always helped him, always given him a choice. She'd told him about Umbridge, he had to do the same, didn't he? "Because you're not the only, Daph. I mean, I like you."
The thought of being without her, the thought of losing her to some unfair, stupid decision that neither of them could make, had put a hole in his heart. It was so clear, he didn't want to lose her. Somewhere along the line, be it at Christmas or before, something had blurred and he hadn't even noticed. Yet the thought of never speaking to her again twisted something horrible inside him.
"You do?" Surprise mingled in with her melancholy, and despite herself Harry watched as a small smile curved the edge of her lips. Despite everything, all the worry and the anxiety, in the moment, he couldn't help but smile too. For the briefest of moments, it didn't feel like they were trying to be forced apart. The weeks of confusion, the agony of realisation and then telling her. It was a relief, an exciting, wonderful, incredible feeling.
"'Course, why wouldn't I?"
"I think I'm literally giving you a reason on a plate right now." Daphne said sarcastically.
"Yeah, well, since when did I do anything the easy way?"
"So what do we do?"
That was the question, wasn't it? What did they do?
"I can't ask you to do anything for me," Harry said. "I can't take that away from you, Daph. I know what it's like, not having a family."
"I wouldn't be doing it for you, I'd be doing it for me." She paused, then smiled again. "I am doing it for me."
It happened in an instant. One second she was there and the next her hands were reaching up to his face and her lips were on his. He felt his arms reach around her waist, pulling her closer, not really sure what he was doing or why. His heart was hammering a thundering beat in his chest, blood rushed to his cheeks and then, as suddenly as it had begun, she was pulling away. A goofy grin spread across his face, while a wry smile managed to find its way onto hers.
"So, now what?" He couldn't stop himself from smiling. All the dread and worry that he knew would come, would have to happen, seemed as distant as the castle itself. They were alone out here, safe from prying eyes. It was perfect, but it wouldn't last for long. Even as the fireworks in his mind continued to be let off with reckless abandon, he couldn't the small ball of worry in his stomach. It was far away but it was, sadly, there.
"I think you said something about Hogsmeade?"
"Right, yeah. Hogsmeade. Cool."
"You can stop smiling any time you know?"
"I'm really trying," Daphne laughed and rolled her eyes.
"C'mon, we'd better get back." For a second she seemed to hesitate then, after hoisting the telescope they'd assembled onto her shoulders, she held out her hand. For the second time that night, Harry felt his heart seem to escape his body as he let his fingers interlock with hers. Whatever was coming, was coming, but that moment. That was perfect.