Chapter Twenty-Four: Living with Love

Slowly, but steadily, Daphne began to find that her life fell into a sort of rhythm. With Malfoy no longer intent on causing her daily pain, she could actually relax in her own Common Room. Not that she spent much time there these days. Mostly she worked in the library with Harry and the others, Tracey, Ron and Harry all had Quidditch practice, so Daphne found she often spent more time with Hermione than she had anticipated. Not that Hermione seemed to mind, she told Daphne several times that it was rather nice to study with someone who 'actually cares about their education'. How she had ever fancied Ron was beyond Daphne, but she never pressed the issue.

In the rare moments where her looming OWLs did not demand she study constantly, she would try to divide her time up between Astoria and Harry. The latter out of sheer joy, the former out of a complex sense of guilt. Whatever her mother had said, she knew that someday soon she would be banished from Greengrass Manor. It would be different if her father was still alive, of course, but he wasn't. More and more she found herself wishing she could speak to him again, he had always given her the best advice, even when he could not heed the words of others.

Every night before bed she would examine the letter. It was getting to the point where even Tracey was becoming worried, not that she said anything. But she didn't have to. The girl was as easy to read as a children's novel. Open her up to any page and there were that day's emotions blaring out at you. She wasn't the only one. Harry too was silently making his worries known, but like Tracey he knew better than to press her.

All too quickly February became March. Slytherin were rock bottom of the Quidditch Cup competition after Malfoy failed to beat Cho Chang of all people to the Snitch. Crabbe's broomstick had, mysteriously, been bucking him the entire match and he had been forced to accept one of the knackered old school brooms. Needless to say, their edge was blunted. It had been like watching an incredibly slow motion Hippogriff mauling, only you couldn't run for help. Tracey swore afterwards that she had nothing to do with the mysterious, oddly timed sabotage and instead suggested that maybe the Ravenclaw's had done it. Only Pansy, Millicent and Daphne (Harry and Ron were brought up to speed later too) knew the truth. Malfoy had gone apoplectic with rage, it had been worth it just to see Flint threaten to kick him off the team.

Warmth was finally returning to Hogwarts. No longer did students have to gather around portable fires or cast heating charms wherever they went. But Spring meant their exams were drawing ever closer and Daphne was becoming increasingly sick of homework. Flitwick would set them a foot and half on the uses and practical applications of cleaning charms, while McGonagall gave them an especially tricky assignment mid-way through the month on how to transform a mouse into a tiny, incredibly harmless, dragon.

Even Snape joined in on the act, giving them weekly two and half feet essays on various potions. But that was somehow not the worst thing about their potions lessons these days. It was becoming increasingly evident that he was taking a special interest in Daphne. More than one lesson she looked up to him staring at her across the classroom, his black eyes practically boring into her very soul. It was rather alarming.

"Just ignore him," Tracey said quietly when Daphne voiced her concerns over her simmering cauldron.

"You try ignoring him, it's like being something's food."

"Salamander blood," Tracey hissed.

"What?" Daphne had been about to add the powdered claw of a Griffon into her potion and quickly picked up the correct ingredient instead. "Oh, thanks."

"He's probably on orders, you know, 'cause of Harry."

"Yeah, but from which side?"

Snape's Death Eater past was about as bleak as it got. The fact Dumbledore had managed to convince a school board to approve his appointment was a testimony to the man's influence. Any other headmaster would have been kicked out of the school for putting kids in mortal danger. Mind you, Dumbledore seemed to have a habit of putting children in mortal danger anyway, so perhaps it was a requirement rather than something to avoid.

The watchful gaze of Snape aside, Daphne was finally beginning to enjoy her time at Hogwarts. For the first time since arriving at the school she finally felt at ease. She had always been true to herself, there was no denying who she was, not to anyone, but with Harry at her side it was nice to actually have that be appreciated and not scornfully rebuked. Even the DA were accepting her. New members no longer looked at her with suspicion or disgust and Seamus Finnegan, who Harry had begrudgingly let in after week's of pestering from Dean, even waved at her in the corridor once.

As anyone with half a brain and terrible previous experiences will tell you, life always has a way of making any good situation immeasurably worse for no apparent reason. The difference between an optimist and a pessimist, is not that one's life is worse or better, but that one is a fool who thinks things will only get better, while the other stands on the edge of enjoying themselves knowing full well that it won't last, so what's the point anyway? For a long time, Daphne had fallen into the pessimist category, and so even as she enjoyed her time within the castle walls there was a very small voice telling her it wouldn't last forever. Nothing did.

That something, rather irritatingly, came in the form of the letter she knew would contain only misery. Later she would wish she was ignorant, even stupid and simply took her mother's words at face value. Astoria was happily ignoring the obvious lies scrawled across the parchment, so why couldn't she? Because Astoria was an optimist. She wasn't.

"I know you're probably going to think I'm mad, but I've got to show you this."

She and Harry had just finished playing a rather destructive game of chess in the Room of Requirement and had curled up together on the sofa, staring into the fireplace. Daphne's brain, as it often had done for the last few weeks, had unconsciously begun obsessing again on the letter. Harry's hand had begun rubbing on her shoulder. Was she really that easy to read?

Slowly she withdrew her mother's letter from her pocket and passed it to Harry.

"I know it says everything's okay," she began, pulling herself up from the comfortable position she had afforded herself on the sofa. "But I know my mother. There's no way in hell she'd send something like that. None."

"So this is what you've been worried about?"

"Yeah, I didn't say anything in case it was nothing, but I can't be, can it?"

Harry, who had mysterious adventures every year, didn't tell she was crazy. Instead he regarded the note with a curious interest. "So what then? You think she was forced?"

"Maybe," it was a possibility Daphne had not wanted to consider but had done after no secret code had been forthcoming. It would explain why Malfoy knew all about her mother's intentions, no doubt Rookwood had been standing over her, watching as she wrote it. Or maybe her mother had finally given in to her family and joined Voldemort's growing army. The idea made Daphne want to vomit.

"But?"

"I've never known my mother do anything she didn't want to do."

"Even with a wand to her head?"

"She's more stubborn than I am."

Harry hummed thoughtfully. "I'm guessing you've checked it, with magic I mean?"

"Every spell I can think of," Daphne nodded, "and even some I had to go and look up. Nothing. Not a single bit of anything. Just those words. I even thought of looking up codes, cyphers, puzzles, you name it. They're just an invitation to come back home and her apparently being cool with me and you. Nothing else, no secret message, no warning, no nothing."

"Well," Harry mused, "how about muggle methods?"

"Like I said codes, cyphers, encryption."

"That's not all muggle's can do," Harry said, softly. He stood up and walked across to the fireplace and held the letter as close as he could to the flames without it burning. "And if I were your mum and I was being watched by Death Eater's, the last thing I'd do is use magic. Dudley got this weird spy kit when we were kids. It let you write in invisible ink, so no-one could see what you wrote. It's a trick really. I think it's got something to do with lemons, that if you…"

He trailed off, sure enough, words were forming underneath the ones Daphne had spent so long examining. "The crafty bitch," Daphne breathed. She had never once, in her entire life, heard her mother mention muggles in anything but a derogatory way. Inferior species, magic should put them in their place, all the usual bilge. But this, this was her resorting to actual muggle science. She was almost angry with herself for not thinking of it. It was so irritatingly simple that she hadn't thought of it. Maybe that's what her mother had been banking on.

"Here. It's a bit warm, but I think that's all of it now."

Her hands trembling slightly, Daphne took the letter. In the strange almost translucent ink, she could see the words, suddenly in focus.

Do not come home. It's not safe here. My brother plans to use you to get to Potter. I said I would help him but I will not have you become your father. Stay away. Stay safe.

Then were the words Daphne hadn't even heard her mother say for almost a decade. Three of them, simply put. As if it meant nothing, when of course it was everything Daphne had ever wanted. The reason she rebelled against her mother's frustratingly backwards ideals. The reason she never truly let go of her father. The reason she loathed Astoria for years. And there it was. Hidden beneath a tale of lies. A fabrication designed to fool everyone but her. And even then she hadn't managed to figure it out.

I love you.

She wasn't aware of crying. She only realised the tears were cascading down her cheeks when Harry pulled her towards him. She didn't know what was worse. The fact that she had been wrong about her mother for so many years, or the fact that she'd been right. Her mother was self-serving, manipulative, sometimes cruel. She was all the things Daphne despised, but she also loved her daughter and the proclamation that she would always look out for her was now so painfully evident that even Daphne couldn't ignore it. She wanted to scream, wanted to throw the damned letter into the fire and be done with her mother. But she couldn't. She couldn't because she'd lose the only proof she had that it wasn't just her father that cared about her.

It was as though a huge dam had come crashing down, a dam that had been soaking all her rage, and fury, and anger. All the spite and frustration at being the less loved child, at being the one who had to suffer while Astoria was the perfect daughter. It was all an act. A ruse to try and force Daphne to be independent, more than the broken little girl sobbing in front of her father's corpse.

"I'm fine," she sobbed, sniffing and pulling away from Harry. She had never wanted anyone to see her like this, but with Harry it was less… embarrassing that it should have been. That wasn't to say her cheeks were flushed, nor her mother's voice telling her to sit up straight, not to show weakness, but it was more like she didn't care.

"Really, I'm okay, I just…"

"It's a lot, yeah. I know. Be like finding out Aunt Petunia actually liked me."

"I can't go back," with one immediate revelation fading into the realms of simply being processed the second, perhaps more important, purpose of the letter was coming to the fore of Daphne's scrambling consciousness. "That's what she's saying. I go back and I'm… I don't know, Imperiused, tortured. I can't go home."

Harry was silent. What could he say? What could anyone say? There was nothing that could be said that would undo it all, or worse make it okay because it wasn't. The reality of her choices were slowly, painfully, dawning on her with every second that passed. From the moment she stepped into the Hog's Head to this. Everything, every choice she'd made, to become her own person and sod the rest. Well, that kind of rejection, of not just sitting idly by and accepting the world for what it was, it was always going to end like this, wasn't it? She'd been walking down a path to self-destruction and never stopped to think about what it actually meant. It was all well and good wanting to show the world what she could do, but the world didn't want her to. Society dictated she stay in her box and this was her punishment.

It was funny. All she'd ever wanted was to escape Greengrass Manor, now that she couldn't return, she felt a yearning to see the old place one last time. But if that was the price, if that was what she had to pay for making her own choices, walking her own path, well, she'd have to pay it. There was nothing in life done without cost, nothing that mattered anyway.

"It's my fault." Harry said quietly, staring into the fireplace. The letter had fallen from her grasp and he was now clutching it, his knuckles almost white as his hands balled themselves into fists. Firelight was raging in his emerald green eyes, flashing off his glasses. "I'm the reason you can't go back, we should never have —"

"No, no way." Daphne snapped quickly, whatever self-pity had been coursing through her died in an instant. "I'm not having you think like that."

"But it's true, isn't it?" Harry asked, misdirected fury giving his words more volume than he perhaps intended. His rage was not aimed at Daphne, but himself. "I'm the reason you can't go back. Your mum's right, they'd use you just to get to me."

"We won't let them."

"But if they do, if they got to you…" his words were shaking now. "I can't ask you to do that. To live like this."

"Good thing you're not asking," Daphne said firmly, she gripped his hand and pulled his face to look at hers. "This was my choice. Alright? I knew this was going to happen, I always knew. Deep down. I just… I thought maybe I could avoid it, do something clever. But there's no avoiding it, is there? At least I had a choice. You never did."

"So now what?"

"Now, I talk to Trace, see if her folks'll still have me. I pretend like I'm going back to everyone else, then just… don't."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Harry, I've spent my life looking for a way out of that place. Maybe, this wasn't what I had planned but I was going to leave in a couple of years anyway and not look back. This way I'm just doing that early. I told you, I'm not going anywhere and I meant it. So if you think about trying to break up with me just because of this I swear I'll detach something from you."

Because it was one thing having a possible reality she'd risked everything for coming true, it was quite another having that risk mean absolutely nothing. The Death Eaters wouldn't stop just because they weren't officially dating. They'd know he cared about her, know that she was his weak point. They weren't stupid, at least not in that sense. If it was a choice between never going home and her own freedom to pick her life, to do what she wanted, on her terms, she'd gladly never see that old manor again.

"I'm serious, I might not be happy about it, but I knew what I was getting myself into. We all do. You are dangerous, just knowing you is dangerous, I'm not going to pretend otherwise. But we're still here, all of us. You… you're worth it. And even if you weren't, what we're all buying into by being here with you is much bigger than any of us.

"I'm not saying I'm thrilled or anything that I can't go back, but I knew what I was doing. We're in this together. Me and you. 'Til the end."

She hadn't meant for it to sound so final, nor had she actually expected it to work. In all the time she had known Harry, she had become continually aware of his desire to protect his friends. It was as if he couldn't control his own safety so he projected it onto them. She expected an argument, maybe even more to try and convince him it wasn't his fault. But instead he simply nodded. No words, just a nod. It was more than she'd been hoping for and it was a start.

Because it was true. They were all there for something bigger than him, whether Daphne herself had realised it or not. Tied up with Harry was the fight with Voldemort. For Ron and Hermione it was probably the classic good versus evil, they were fighting because he was bad and it was as simple as that. For her, well, she had lived with bigotry and zealous muggle hating all her life. It wasn't so much an evil as a daily occurence. For her it was about something, something much more personal.

As she and Harry curled up again in the Room of Requirement, lost in their own thoughts, she truly understood why she had been drawn to him. Harry was the ultimate choice. The best way to get back at her mother and the people she loathed. But then it had become more than hadn't it? She'd fallen for him, was falling for him. It wasn't love. But it was something more important. Something she couldn't bear to lose. Not yet.

"Do you think we'll win?" Harry asked after Merlin only knew how long. His hand was in her hair, his thumb massaging her head rhythmically. Sorrow had been replaced with weariness and she had felt sleep desperately calling to her even as she fought against it.

"Someone's got to," Daphne shrugged, "why not us?"

"I wish it could all be different."

"I know, but if it was maybe we'd never have met. Maybe we'd have just had Potions together, never known who each other were and drifted through life finding other people." It was something she often thought about. Ever since she'd taken Arithmancy she had become obsessed with the notion that there were a billion universes, all made up of different people, but all the same. A little choice here, another there and suddenly a different life was at your feet. There were Daphnes in different universes who'd never met Harry, somewhere she didn't even exist, or where they'd met and not got on. In some truly disturbing universes she probably liked Malfoy.

"That's the thing, you can't be busy wondering what could have been because you'll miss out on what's actually happening."

"Since when were you so philosophical?"

"Since you started it," Daphne teased. "But it's true. We could be anywhere and somewhere we probably are. There's gonna be Harrys out there who never even met Voldemort. Harrys who didn't make it to Hogwarts. Harrys who lose. There'll be ones that win too. There's a billion universes out there, Harry. All filled with us make different choices, taking different roads."

Harry, who apparently had never really considered this, let out a small chuckle. "Trust you to come out with something like that."

"I find it comforting."

"Why?" It wasn't judgemental, more curiously interested.

"Well, think about it." She turned over so she could look at him, she couldn't help it. She loved talking about all this stuff. "If I make a crappy decision here, at least somewhere else there's a me that's having a better time. I grew up thinking choice was so difficult. With dad and everything." She paused, remembering the childhood she'd felt forced down and the mother she wished she'd had. "But that's the thing. Choices matter. We make them every day. And I'm fighting for mine. For you."

"When you put it like that, it is kind of nice."

"See, I can be cool."

"The fact you have to say you can be…" Harry teased, earning himself a cushion to the general direction of his face from Daphne. Unsurprisingly it sailed over his head and hit the floor with a soft thump.

"I'm cooler than you." Daphne said, with a fake pout.

"Not hard, everyone hates me."

"Not these days, or hadn't you noticed the gang of girls following you round like lost puppies?"

"Are there?"

Remembering the gaggle in the Three Broomsticks, Daphne couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Are you really that oblivious?"

"Before you I never really thought anyone was into me, even Cho I figured was just bouncing onto me 'cause of Cedric." Boys really were thick sometimes.

"There's girls who like you, this entire castle probably. People are starting to need a hero again."

"Yay," there wasn't even a hint of enthusiasm.

"Well, I'd say you're a pretty good hero. For one thing, you go round saving literally everyone you can." Harry laughed, but didn't deny it. "For another, you're smart, when you want to be."

"That was a compliment, I'm touched."

"I can give compliments."

"You can also be incredibly scathing, rude, cutting and impatient." Harry pointed out.

"Yes, your point?"

"Just that it's nice to be in your good books," Harry grinned. He leaned in and kissed her, she couldn't help but smile even as she lightly hit his shoulder.

"You so sure of that?"

"Oh, I am pretty sure."

"Only pretty?" Daphne smirked. "I think you might need to earn your way to certain."

They didn't leave the Room of Requirement for quite some time, and when Daphne did finally make it back to the Slytherin Common Room it was to be greeted by Tracey, who had clearly been waiting for her. The following dressing down, luid comments and helpful suggestions would have been scarring had Daphne not been able to ignore them for the memories she'd just created with Harry.

It was when she finally got into bed that the thoughts she had prevented from taking hold were finally allowed to roam in her conscious mind, having pillaged her subconscious with reckless abandon. She could just see Astoria's face when she found out. How would they carry on? They would have to but how? And would she really be able to hide at Tracey's? They'd need to put up wards, Dumbledore would insist.

And what if she never went back? What if they lost? Well, if they lost, Daphne would be the first to be broken. Disobedience was never taken well by a melomaniac intent on ruling a nation. Endless possibilities were given life as she lay there. Sleep never gripped her, for her mind rebelled. Obsessing, wondering and lost. The only certainty she had was that it was the right choice.

It was much more difficult to enjoy the days that followed. The carefree nature of her life had been quashed by finality of her decision. Harry did his best to cheer her up and some days it worked, others she could be found just staring into space, playing her mother's message back over again in her mind. Reading, studying, wishing it wasn't true. Accepting her fate was one thing, embracing it, being at peace with it, well, that was proving harder than she had first anticipated.

Days became weeks and weeks became months. The numbness never truly left her, but she was able to ignore it more. To live again. Nights like her first in the Room of Requirement became more common, wondering what was coming but enjoying Harry's company regardless. It felt as though she was standing on the crest of a wave yet to crash back into the sea of sorrows. A reprieve from what was to come. The world was changing. Outside Hogwarts Runcorn was elected by a narrow, but nevertheless, irritating margain.

Madam Bones bowed out graciously, before helping to reassign Aurors and tasking them to hunti Death Eaters. Despite her best efforts, they were no doubt looking in the wrong places. Fear was gripping the castle, not just Daphne. Everyone could feel something coming. Their horizon was nearing, their journey just beginning.

In all that time Daphne never once told Astoria of what was to come. She wanted to, Merlin knew she wanted to. Every time she readied herself to say the words, they faltered on her tongue, dying as her sister smiled, or made a joke, or whinged about her homework. It would continue, of course it would, but it wouldn't be the same. Selfishly, Daphne wanted to cling onto the brief moment they had. She knew it was wrong, wanted to say something, but for once in her life, she didn't. It was too painful, too raw, too real. Just a little longer.

The lie broke in the Quidditch stands of all places. Gryffindor were hammering Hufflepuff, with Ron in excellent form and Harry diligently zooming around the pitch searching for the Snitch. The crowd were whooping, all except the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs who were booing gallantly.

"I'm going to miss this," Daphne heard herself saying. Astoria, who was sitting next to her and currently whooping with disbelief as Ron almost fell off his broom to cover his further hoop, looked round, confused.

"What're you talking about, they'll play next year?"

Tracey, whom Daphne had filled in only a few days after she herself had found out, sagged next to them.

"I don't mean this," Daphne said, gesturing to the pitch. "I mean this, us."

"You're not coming home." It wasn't a question. Daphne could see the realisation dawning across Astoria's young, pretty face. How had she never noticed how much she radiated love and warmth and kindness? How had she ignored it for so many years to fill her own ludicrous nightmares about her sister? So much time wasted.

"No," Daphne wasn't stupid enough to say why in a crowd full of Death Eater sons and daughters. "I'm sorry, Tori."

"If mum's said anything —"

"It's my choice, it's safer like this. We both know that. I should've said something sooner, I just, I wanted to enjoy it. You not knowing. It was nice. I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as I am." Astoria said, so quietly that Daphne almost couldn't hear her over the crowd. The next moment her sister was leaning into her, her arms wrapping around Daphne's waist. They sat there like that as the entire stadium erupted. Lee Jordan was yelling about how Gryffindor had won, Harry had caught the Snitch and they were Cup winners. Cheers, jeers and everything in between were hurled at the players. The only patch of silence, deafening those who chose to hear it, was at the back of the Slytherin stands as the Greengrass family enjoyed what could be their final moment of normality.