Chapter Five: He was no hero

The summer was dreadful. Harry returned to Privet Drive, and thanks to Voldemort's spectre floating over the whole nation, it was deemed too unsafe for regular visits from anyone. Daphne tried her best, but a combination of her mother's anger and the Order's protection meant that she was nowhere near as welcome at Privet Drive as she had been in St. Mungo's. Even when she did make an appearance it was always well away from his Aunt and Uncle, who would've likely exploded in shock at seeing a witch in the house.

Harry was, therefore, only occasionally afforded a brief respite from his house arrest. But he looked forward to them whenever Daphne appeared. She was one of the only things keeping him sane. Unlike anyone else, even Ron and Hermione, Daphne had a way of keeping him grounded, keeping his mind away from the cruel thoughts that lurked in the darkness of his head. They would talk about everything and nothing, disappear to the cinema that had recently opened, go on picnics with food prepared by Mopsy. She never mentioned the Horcruxes unless he did, nor his trip to St. Mungo's. Instead, she let him just be. With her he was just himself, with her the war felt that little bit further away.

To their credit, or perhaps their fear at what was going on in the outside world, when he returned 'home' the rest of Privet Drive left him alone. Meals were left outside his door and when he did venture downstairs his aunt and uncle didn't so much as look at him. Dudley, rather oddly, didn't bully him as usual. Unlike his parents he would try to make stilted conversation with Harry and even offer him some of his pudding on the rare occasion he joined them for dinner. It was rather bizarre.

At least he had the mirror and Sirius kept him as up-to-date as possible. Somehow, Sirius was now heading up the Order's operations, while Dumbledore looked at the 'bigger picture'. The rest of the Order wasn't sure what that was, but Sirius may as well have yelled 'Horcruxes' at him.

"How are you?" Sirius asked one night, it was a week before Harry was due to move to Grimmauld Place and he couldn't wait to get out of Surrey. "The muggles treating you alright?"

"They're fine, don't say a word," Harry shrugged, he'd propped the mirror up against Hedwig's cage, she was out hunting and wouldn't be back until the early hours of the morning. "They know something's wrong though. Uncle Vernon keeps talking about moving to Spain."

"They could do worse," Sirius admitted, "things aren't going to get better any time soon. They're lucky that place is protected." The blood wards, Harry had been informed - far later than he thought he should've been - around the house kept it protected from Voldemort and his Death Eaters so long as Harry replenished them every year. The fact they'd be inert within a year meant that Harry, regardless of what Dumbledore said, knew he wasn't going to come back. This, as far as he was concerned, was it.

"I'm not coming back, Sirius."

He expected the usual 'But, Dumbledore' but Sirius just nodded. "I don't blame you. I've been saying for years you should move here, now half the Order's moved in, you'll be lucky if you can get a bed."

"Are Tracey's family still with you?"

"Yeah, and the Weasleys." Sirius sighed.

"Mrs. Weasley still not forgiven you then?"

"Nope," Sirius confirmed, popping the 'p' without even bothering to hide his annoyance. Mrs. Weasley blamed Sirius for her husband's wounds and despite Mr. Weasley being adamant that it was alright, his wife shared no such sentiment. "Not like Arthur saved almost fifty muggles or anything. Never mind the fact he's absolutely fine."

"A lot of other people weren't," Harry pointed out dully. He'd read the Prophet, once he'd left Cliffeside and Daphne had caught him up with everything. Susan had been the hardest. And the Diggorys. It just hammered home how much bigger this all was now. It wasn't just him anymore, it wasn't even just Hermione, Ron, Daphne and Tracey anymore. This was an entire nation's fight and they were drowning.

"Less than if we'd done nothing though."

"I'm not saying -"

"I know," Sirius said, not unkindly. He rubbed his eyes, his long hair swinging in front of his face. "I wish we could do more too. Have you seen anything recently?"

"No," his scar hadn't hurt all summer. It was odd. It was like the connection, if that's what he was thinking of it as, was somehow different. Before he'd always been able to feel and see everything, now he was just getting snippets. Like a radio that hadn't been tuned. "Just bits and pieces. Emotions. He was angry. Last night? The night before?"

The days were blurring into one, thanks largely to the fact that Harry had taken to sleeping during the day or whenever his nightmares allowed. Dalir's potions weren't always enough.

"Do you know why?" Harry shook his head. "Well, that's something."

"How is that better though?" His temper, which was always close to breaking point these days, fraying. "If I've got to have that, that, thing, living in my head, it could at least show me something useful!"

He was so sick of living with this. At first, he'd hoped that there would be a cure, or something, a sign that things would get better. But as days dragged themselves into weeks, the hope of Hagrid finding something in France was becoming slimmer and slimmer. Every day was another day his life wasn't his own, and every day he looked in the mirror wondering if, one day, it wouldn't be his eyes that were looking back at him.

"The less you're seeing, the less he could be seeing," Sirius said calmly. "Which is good, because we reckon we've found another one."

"You're kidding?"

"Dumbledore mentioned it a few weeks ago but it didn't click until Mad-Eye shifted a bunch of stuff from the Drawing Room," Sirius began, "remember last year, when you were clearing out those old cabinets?" Harry nodded, unlikely to forget some of the worst labour he'd been put through, and he was related to Aunt Petunia. "Well, there was this old locket - hadn't a clue where it came from. Anyway, Molly reckoned you'd thrown it out, but I fished around Kreacher's den and…"

He held up a golden chain and connected to it was a small locket with an emerald green 'S' fashioned out of emeralds on the front.

"And you've just had that in your house?" Harry asked, not daring to believe their luck. How, how had Sirius had that locket for so long? And how hadn't they known? More to the point, how had Voldemort not known? Was he really that disconnected from the Horcruxes?

"Not always, turns out Kreacher knows a fair bit more than he's been letting on. My brother, I told you how he'd signed up to be a Death Eater, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"Turns out he got cold feet when all the killing started," Sirius explained, "how he didn't realise that's where it was going, I don't know. Then, apparently, Kreacher tested Voldemort's defences around this thing and Voldemort left him to die." Sirius sounded as though he would've been quite happy with that outcome. "Regulus found out and one thing led to another, he managed to steal this thing, then when he tried to escape a bunch of inferni got him."

"He died trying to stop Voldemort?"

Sirius shrugged impassively, "dead's dead. He was dead before, he's dead now. My brother was many things, Harry, but he was no hero."

"But he -"

"Got upset when his precious elf was hurt," Sirius spat, far more angrily than Harry had expected. "Nevermind the hundreds of muggles Voldemort killed. My brother was a coward, he could've turned his back on Voldemort whenever he liked. Did he? No. He's more blood on his hands than you'll ever know, this!" For a moment the shadow of the man that thousands believed to have killed his best friends appeared on his godfather's face, his dark eyes drawn to the locket that swung before him. "This doesn't redeem him. Nothing can."

"Sirius, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Sirius snapped. "I don't like talking about him. About any of them." He threw the locket down in disgust. The murder had vanished from his eyes as quickly as it had come. "It's not easy, knowing he could've… That we could've… Forget it. It doesn't matter now. What matters is when Dumbledore gets this, that's one more down."

"And that cup and the diadem." And me.

"And who knows what else," Sirius agreed, "but it's a start. Dumbledore's coming tonight to dispose of it," again Sirius' gaze was pulled almost hypnotically to the locket. "It's funny, all that power and he hides away pieces of himself in these. You know, I reckon sometimes he's more afraid of dying than anyone else is of him."

The conversation drifted after that, Sirius giving him updates on the Order and teasing Harry about Daphne (as he often did). It was a strange balance between the new and the ordinary, Harry supposed he was just going to have to get used to that. Much like when he'd found out he was a wizard. His whole world had been flipped upside down. He'd survived that. He could survive this.

His final week at Privet Drive passed without incident. The Dursleys loudly informed him that once he was out of the house they would be moving to Spain for a year to 'broaden their horizons'. That way they didn't appear cowards, although Harry would never think of it like that. If he could run, if he actually had any say in the matter, he might've. Deep down, he knew he wouldn't. Dumbledore had been right about one thing. He would never be able to turn his back on getting revenge for his parents. Not while there was breath in his body and a wand in his hand. He was in this until the end. Only difference was that now the end felt so much more tangible. Before, the impending fight with Voldemort had seemed so abstract and nebulous. Like trying to grip gas or pay attention to Professor Binns. Now? Now, it was as real as the very trunk he was packing.

It was two days, or maybe three, he kept losing track of time, until he was due to leave. He couldn't wait to get out. Even if it was only to a different house. At least Grimmauld Place had Sirius, Ron, Tracey and Hermione. Daphne could visit more. Hell, he could even go to Cliffeside if either of them fancied a verbal disembolwing from her mother.

"Boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the hallway, dragging Harry from his reverie. "Down here!"

Harry didn't dignify the barked summons with a response, but slammed his trunk shut and bad-temperedly dragged himself downstairs anyway. He was about to snap back at his uncle when he saw who else was in the hallway. Blonde hair tied into a ponytail, pale eyes regarding her surroundings with mild interest and hidden loathing, was Daphne. Uncle Vernon and a quailing Aunt Petunia were looking at Harry's girlfriend as though she were a bomb about to explode at any moment. A small smirk pulled at the corner of Daphne's thin lips when Uncle Vernon visibly twitched as she moved to hug Harry.

"I didn't know you were coming," he said quietly, his breath making the few strands of hair around her ear move out of place.

"I couldn't let you have your birthday, could I?"

"My -" how had he forgotten? Was it that time already? He'd been so focused on getting out of Privet Drive, he'd quite forgotten the very reason he was stuck there in the first place. He had to wait until his birthday. "Right."

They pulled apart, but not before Daphne added, "get your coat."

Harry wordlessly reached for the only coat in the hallway that belonged to him, a battered old thing that had once belonged to Dudley and was still far too big for him, despite the fact that Dudley had been twelve when Harry had inherited it.

"We won't be long," Daphne smiled, doing her best impression of Astoria as she tried to make herself look less like she wanted to curse Harry's relatives. "And thank you so much for agreeing to this."

"Er, yes," coughed Uncle Vernon awkwardly, "no… no problem at all." His moustache twitched. "Happy birthday. Erm." His face was practically the colour of beetroot. "Boy - I mean - Harry."

"Thanks?"

Uncle Vernon nodded, more to himself than to Harry, and without a word disappeared into the living room, his wife trailing behind him. Harry turned to Daphne, his mouth hanging open.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing," her smirk revealed the lie almost instantly. "Okay. Something. I may or may not have mentioned that, as a soon-to-be adult witch, I can do magic outside of Hogwarts whenever I want and I know where they live and where they plan to go. I may have let them infer certain…"

"Threats."

"Eventualities," Daphne corrected, "if they weren't nice to you. What?" she asked when Harry shook his head, "it is your birthday. Now c'mon, or did you really think we'd forgotten you?"

Before he could ask what she meant, Daphne turned on her heel and led him outside. They were greeted by Ron and Tracey, who apparently was being watched at Grimmauld Place by Tracey's dad, and Hermione who practically rugby tackled Harry when she saw him. It was safe to say the curtains around Privet Drive were twitching more than a little as Harry's neighbours goggled at 'that strange Potter boy' having friends. It was surreal but welcome. They meandered to the park, Hermione and Ron catching Harry up on their summers and the two Slytherin girls lagging slightly behind - having a catch-up of their own.

"Mine first, do mine first," Ron insisted when they'd all sat down on a picnic blanket Hermione had brought with her.

"He can open whoever's he wants," Hermione scolded him, earning herself an exasperated sigh from Ron.

"Only 'cause you want him to do yours first," Ron shot back, throwing his badly wrapped present to Harry before Harry could pick anything from the mound in front of him.

"Or perhaps she wants to let Harry choose," Tracey teased, before adding sarcastically. "Honestly, Ron. You're so controlling."

"It's his worst trait," Daphne joined in.

"No, it's got to be the eating." Tracey grinned.

"Worse than the snoring?" Harry asked, unable to resist.

"Don't you start too!" Ron objected loudly.

Tracey smirked. "You're so easy. God, no wonder dad likes you. Go on, Harry. Open his."

Harry sniggered as Ron made a show of not wanting him to open it before ripping open the paper and finding a new chess set. Ron was beaming. "Do you like it? I thought it'd be cool to get back into it, we've not played for ages!"

"It's great," Harry grinned, Ron was right. They hadn't played for ages. He missed his first years at Hogwarts, where there was nothing more important to do than getting thrashed by Ron at chess. As he stared down at the new pieces, which were squirming inside the box and shouting at one another, he longed to back there. Well, not exactly then. Maybe a version of there where he had Daphne, Sirius and Lupin. That would be perfect.

"See, told you he'd like it," Rons said triumphantly to Tracey, who rolled her eyes with mock annoyance.

"Okay, fine, you win. Can't see why though, it's so boring."

"It's strategy."

"Quidditch is strategy," Tracey corrected, "chess is just moving stuff; round hoping your stuff doesn't get killed."

"Why do I get the feeling you've found yourself a chess teacher?" Daphne asked casually, while Ron was almost bouncing up and down with excitement. After Ron's present came Hermione's, a rather expensive-looking broom maintenance kit.

"You were always saying how much you loved the last one," she said, after Harry had hugged her, "and I know you were running out."

Tracey's gift came in the form of an array of t-shirts, after Tracey had insisted she still had the receipt in case he didn't like them. Having never really had any other muggle clothes other than Dudley's, Harry loved all of them regardless of the fact that he had no idea what most of the designs were references too. Finally came Daphne's. The first was a small photo of the two of them, they were smiling at the camera and Harry was laughing. Behind them were other members of the DA, but they were indistinct, a backdrop to this brief moment of sheer happiness. Colin had cornered them one night after a DA practice and insisted. He wasn't even sure how Daphne had managed to get hold of it, but he was glad that she had.

The second was much larger. "Now, you can say if you hate it." Daphne said, a tad more concerned than Harry was used to seeing her. "I promise. I won't mind."

Beneath the neatly wrapped paper was a box containing a fully-fledged model of Hogwarts beneath a huge glass jar. Sunlight dappled on the pooling waters of the lake. Candle lights flickered in the hallowed halls, and Harry was sure he even saw some ghosts move and the leaves on the Whomping Willow flutter in the non-existent breeze. The castle sat atop a wooden base and on it was a small golden plaque, which simply said: "home."

"You always said it was like home," Daphne told him, a little nervously. "So, I thought, when you're here. And seeing it -"

"It's great," Harry interrupted her, placing the mini model of the only ever place he'd called home back into its box. "Really, it's perfect. Thank you." He reached out and kissed her, hoping to somehow show her with such a small action the sheer amount of love in his heart at that very moment.

"All of you, thank you. This is great."

The day didn't stop there, after presents came food and a birthday cake in the shape of a caterpillar and then a trip to somewhere Harry had never been before. Surrey forest was somewhere his primary school had visited for a geography trip once, but Uncle Vernon refused to let Harry go because of how magic prone he'd been back then. A bus ride and a short walk later, they reached a large clearing in the treeline. Harry stared.

"Surprise!" Came the voices of Lupin, Tonks, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ginny, the Twins, Neville, Luna Lovegood and a rather tall man with a large moustache and short grey hair that Harry didn't recognise. Behind them was a long table and wooden chairs, heaving under the weight of an entire buffet. But the crowning jewel in his celebration was the three large hoops, which had been magically constructed in the clearing and the brooms at the base of a great oak tree.

"What, you didn't think we wouldn't invite them, did you?" Ron grinned as Harry gawked at the host of wizards and witches standing in this lost moment from his childhood.

"But how did you -"

"Dad sorted the paperwork," Ron explained.

"With a little help from Kingsley," Mr Weasley added as Harry drew nearer to the table. He looked tired, more tired than Harry had ever seen him before. "Hello, Harry. It's good to see you."

Mrs Weasley, who seemed lost for words, simply yanked him into a bone-crushing hug and refused to let go until Harry thought he was going to pass out. When he was finally allowed to breathe again, he saw she was crying. The horrible realisation that this was the first time most of them had been able to see him since he had entered St. Mungo's hit him like a bludger.

"The hoops were Ron's idea," George added, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen at Mrs Weasley's suppressed sobs. "Bloody nightmare to transfigure, let me tell you."

"And there's muggle repelling charms," Fred continued, shaking Harry's hand. "So we shouldn't get interrupted. Sorry we couldn't get your firebolt, but there's the new cleansweep in there."

"Happy birthday, Harry," came the slightly airy voice of Luna Lovegood, who was staring wistfully around the forest. Harry, who had spoken to Luna occasionally at the DA and during their memorable encounter on the train, knew all too well that this was simply just how she talked. No doubt Ginny had asked her to come.

He was passed around everyone, being hugged by Ginny and Tonks, waving to Neville, who was having a deep conversation with Luna about the possibly magical creatures that could be hiding in the trees, before he came to the tall, grey-haired man who was leaning against a tree, a glass of fire whiskey clasped in his bony hands.

"You shouldn't be here," Harry said quietly.

"Well," Sirius smiled with a stranger's face, "I couldn't miss your birthday. Don't worry, I won't be long. I think we've got about an hour 'til this wears off."

"Who even is that?"

"I think his name's Jerry, or it could be Garry?" Sirius shrugged, "Mad-Eye found him for me, just some muggle." He regarded the slightly pudgy fingers with interest before asking, "having a good day?"

"The best," Harry admitted, grateful for the distraction. "I can't believe Ron sorted all this."

"It was a team effort," Sirius told him, "it was Daphne's idea to invite everyone, Ron added the Quidditch, Hermione made us go through the Ministry - I'd have just rocked up but no doubt they're monitoring this place for magic all the time - and Tracey helped sort the brooms. You've got the Harpies to thank for that." He smiled, looking out at the group as they very clearly let Harry speak to Sirius alone.

"They're the best."

"Pretty good for two Slytherins and a couple of Gryffindors," Sirius smirked, although on his new face it looked more like a grimace. "It's strange how things change."

"Tell me about it, if you'd said this time last year I'd be here with you, with them, I'd have laughed in your face."

"I'd have loved James to meet them," Sirius grinned, "he hated Slytherins more than the rest of us. Hardly surprising, given Snivellus being obsessed with Lily."

Harry grimaced, the thought was always a little revolting. "Do you think they'd have liked them?"

"Them? Or Daphne?"

"Daph."

"Not at first," Sirius answered. It was something that had often bothered Harry. While he loved that Sirius liked Daphne, he always wondered how his parents would have taken to her. Would they have even been together? "But Daph would've grown on him. James wasn't perfect and your mum," Sirius let out a bark-like laugh "she'd have loved her. They're quite alike, you know. Strong-willed, smart, don't suffer fools gladly and Lily could have a sharp tongue when she wanted to. Yeah, Lily would've loved her."

He trailed off, the ghost of a smile settled on the face Sirius was wearing. There was a hole where his parents should be, at least for Harry he had no idea what should fill it, Sirius knew what he was missing.

"I miss them too."

"Least we're still here," Sirius commented, taking another sip from his drink as he looked out at the party. "That counts for something."

Harry considered that, his eyes drifting to the party that was being thrown in his honour. It was strange, after everything that had happened to be here with them, yet so perfect at the same time.

"Everything," Harry corrected. "If we weren't, they'd have died for nothing." He paused, the thought of the Horcrux clinging to his soul reverberating around him. It was impossible not to shake its shadowy presence. Yet, in that moment he somehow pitied it.

"Did Dumbledore? You know?" He made a small slashing motion, as if hitting something with an invisible sword.

"Yeah," Sirius nodded, "came last week." He scratched at the moustache, as if debating what to say next. "I'm sorry. About my brother."

"No, Sirius, it's -"

"Kind of you to say Harry, but it's not. That locket, well, let's just say having a bit of that madman near me didn't have the best of effects. Made me think things, thoughts I've not had for a long time," he blew out a sigh, "And I thought I was okay."

Harry had no idea what to say, other than he knew exactly how broken Sirius felt. It was exactly how he'd been when he found out the Horcrux lived inside him.

"It's funny," Sirius continued, "you think just 'cause you're out of that place you're free of it. Think you can move on. But it'll always be there. I thought… I don't know. I thought one day it might click off, like one of those muggle light switches. But it won't."

"I know the feeling," Harry told him. They were probably the only two there that did. The others had faced far more than anyone should be expected to, but they were still them. They could still look at themselves in the mirror and know who was looking back. "How do you deal with it?"

"I try to be better than what I was," Sirius shrugged, "can't say it works all the time. There's good days, and bad ones. Trick is to make the good ones count and remember they'll be back when the crap stays that little too long."

"And if I can't?"

"Sometimes you won't," his voice was raw, "sometimes you'll fail. On those days, Harry, you call me. You reach out to Daph, Ron, Hermione. Hell, even talk to Minnie if you think it'll help. You remember that despite everything that's happened, however you think about yourself now, we will always be here. We'll always love you."

Words failed Harry, so instead, he just hugged Sirius. Hugged him until the tears disappeared into the folds of his muggle clothes, hugged him until he was sure he could stop. When he pulled away, the face Sirius wore smiled at him gently and then, a little awkwardly, Sirius asked, "so, what did you get? Don't tell me Ron got you chocolate again?"

Harry laughed and let Sirius know what everyone had got him. As soon as they got onto the broom care kit, Sirius shifted the conversation to the upcoming Quidditch season. Harry, who had kept abreast of it simply to keep up with Ron and Tracey, held his own until they were joined by the aforementioned couple who began debating the finer points of Puddlemere United's unexpected championship hopes after signing the man dubbed 'the next Viktor Krum,' despite the fact that Krum was barely twenty.

The debate then led to actual Quidditch, which included a very memorable ten minutes as Sirius, Harry and Ron kept out the combined efforts of Fred, George, Ginny and Tracey, before switching sides and sending the Quaffle through their hoops almost thirty times in a matter of minutes. Sirius, it transpired, was rather good at flying.

Once Sirius had left, giving Harry a quick hug and being escorted away by Lupin and Tonks, the game became much more even with Fred joining Harry and Ron. Neither Tracey nor Harry were especially good chasers, which left Ginny battling against Ron while the Twins tried to play interference against each other. Before he knew it, evening was settling around them and Mrs Weasley was calling them all for food.

It was excellent. Every bit of it was perfect and when the cake came out, a giant, homemade golden snitch, Harry thought his stomach might burst. They all chatted happily, Harry spent most of the night catching up with Mr Weasley and Lupin, whom he had not really seen since leaving St. Mungo's all those weeks ago. Beside him, Daphne and Hermione were discussing the upcoming year and what classes they could take, depending on their OWL results which were soon to be arriving.

All too quickly, night fell and the feast was packed away, the hoops returned to their original form - a sapling and two bushes - and everyone said their farewells. Tonks was the first to go with Neville and Luna, who smiled happily as they vanished into nothing. Fred and George were next, insisting that Harry come to see their shop in Diagon Alley when the books list came.

"It was lovely seeing you, Harry, dear." Mrs Weasley said as she squeezed him tightly again. Ginny was behind her, helping her father and Ron pack up the last of the food.

"You too," Harry grinned, "I'll be out of here soon."

"Of course, not long." Mrs Weasley beamed. "And it was lovely to meet you properly too, Daphne."

"Thanks," Daphne said, a little awkwardly. She never was very good with new people, rather at odds with the fierce girl filled with conviction he'd come to know. "I mean, it was nice to meet you too."

"I think that's the lot, Molly." Mr. Weasley called as he shut the final wicker basket that contained the remnants of their meal. "Harry, pleasure to you as always."

"Likewise," Harry grinned, he'd missed the Weasleys. He'd missed them all. He longed to be with Sirius and see them all again. The only saving grace about this summer had been Daphne, who was currently saying goodbye to Mr Weasley and looking as though she hoped he wouldn't hug her. It was always Daphne. Smart, witty, ambitious, kind. Always exactly what he needed.

She was saved by Tracey, who hugged Ron's dad and seemed to assure them that they'd be heading to Grimmauld Place soon. He walked over to them both and managed to hear Tracey say.

"Have you?"

"No." Daphne shot back.

"Planning on it?"

"Getting there," Daphne snapped irritably at her friend, who winked and then grinned at Harry.

"Right, well, I'd better be off. Lovely to see you, Harry!" Tracey pulled him into an unexpected hug before shooting a knowing look at Daphne and heading to her mother.

"What was she talking about?"

"Nothing," Daphne answered quickly. "Well, maybe something. Look, I didn't… I thought… Yes."

"This is going really well," Harry smirked, but when he didn't receive a normal sarcastic comment, he added, "you alright?"

"Have you ever known you wanted to do something," Daphne began, suddenly unable to look in the face and instead staring to a point just past his head. "But when you got there, you were worried what might happen?"

"Every time I walked into Potions," that at least managed a small smile from Daphne. "Whatever it is, you don't have to -"

"I want to, it's just…" she puffed out her cheeks and let a gigantic sigh escape her. Then, all of sudden and far quicker than Harry expected, she said. "I thought I could maybe, sort of, stay?"

He blinked, not daring to believe what he'd just heard. "I mean, not to assume anything and we wouldn't have to, I just, Ron and Tracey and well, thought maybe… You've got the cloak and we could… We wouldn't need to... You know what, forget I said any -"

"Breathe," he moved his hands to her shoulders, his own heart hammering rather quickly as he took a small step closer to her. Every background sound seemed to die away as he looked at her, the faint traffic noise, the sound of birds, the rustling of leaves. "If you want to. Then yes, but only if you want to."

"Always the gentleman."

"If you want me to be honest, then yes, I've thought about it and I'd love you to stay."

"Really?"

He saw then the girl that he knew lay beneath her many guards and barbed comments. The vulnerability of someone who, like him, had grown up feeling as though they didn't belong and so whenever they tried to belong anywhere it was terrifying. Not because they couldn't, but because they were scared of going back to a world where they didn't.

"Really," Harry nodded, leaning only inches closer and kissing her gently. All the tension seemed to fade from her as they stayed together. There was a sudden loud 'whooping' followed by a small pop and when they looked up Tracey and Mr. Weasley had vanished. Their laughter mingled together and from the clearing Lupin approached them.

"I take it," he said kindly, "that you are staying with Harry, Miss Greengrass?"

"That's the plan."

"Then, if you'll allow me," he held out an arm, wincing slightly as he did so. "Don't worry," he assured Harry when he looked at the injured limb, "nothing a potion won't fix."

After Lupin took them to Privet Drive, Harry led Daphne towards number four. The sound of Uncle Vernon's snores greeted him as he opened the front door and putting a finger to his lips he gestured to Daphne to come inside. The house was dark, but Harry had made a habit of moving through it without being noticed. Quickly, he made his way up the stairs, checking to see if any of the doors were open before indicating that Daphne could come up. She'd clearly been paying attention because she deftly avoided the creaking step, just as he had done and then together they made their way to his room. It clicked shut just as Dudley's door opened and a moment later the bathroom light threw the landing into fluorescent relief.

"Cloak's there," Harry whispered, pointing to the open trunk at the foot of his bed. "Just in case."

"This feels so weird," Daphne said, running the cloak through her fingers.

"You try creeping into the restricted section with it on," Harry whispered, remembering how eerie that had been. "Now that's weird."

"Why must you always say such interesting things so late at night?"

"I'll tell you another time," Harry assured her as she opened the small bag she'd been carrying and pulling out an entire change of clothes. "What?" She asked as Harry stared at her. "C'mon, you think I'd be unprepared. Now turn around and don't look."

Without a word, Harry did as he was told and waited until the bed covers were pulled into place and the faint creak of his bedsprings indicated Daphne was in bed before he turned back. She'd pulled the duvet to her chest, her shoulders were bare save for the straps of a slightly lacy top.

"Your turn," Harry said, motioning her to do the same before he hastily threw his jeans into the corner and scrambled around for a suitable t-shirt. He'd not been expecting a guest, although he wasn't complaining. He was grateful it was dark as he pulled on one of Dudley's old tops and climbed slowly into bed. There wasn't much room, but after a moment of moving, Daphne had curled so that her legs entangled with his and her head nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

There were so many things he wanted to say, so many more that he wanted to do but wouldn't without asking first. He'd dreamed of this moment for so long, but now that it was here, he hadn't the faintest clue how to go about anything. He was suddenly painfully aware that she was the first and only girl to have ever joined him in bed. What did he do? He settled for rubbing his thumb on her shoulder and trying to find a natural position for his other arm that walked the fine line between loving and eager.

"I love you," she whispered into the darkness, the words although quiet a stupid grin to spread across his face in the gloom.

"I love you too."

"Quite right too," Daphne muttered, moving her head slightly so that she could kiss his neck. Once. Twice. Moving upwards to his jaw and then his lips. They continued like that for a while, exactly how long Harry wasn't sure, but when she lay against his chest once more she could probably fear his heart racing.

"Thanks for a great birthday, Daph."

"Don't mention it," Daphne said, squeezing him slightly. "Happy birthday, Harry."

She fell asleep before he did, her short breaths morphed into the contented noises of restful slumber. It took Harry considerably longer, the joys of the day juxtaposing with the insidious thoughts that only came out when he tried to sleep. Had Voldemort seen all of this? Was he watching even now, as Harry had done when Nagini had attacked Mr. Weasley? Sirius might think that just because Harry couldn't see anything that the connection was weaker, but was it? And even if it was, how could Daphne keep defying his expectations? How could she keep being here?

But down that path, only madness could really come, couldn't it? If he obsessed over whether or not they'd leave, he'd just push them away anyway. Dumbledore might've given him a life to lose, but now he had it, could he really walk away from it?

So instead of letting his thoughts consume him, he tried, for the first time since leaving St. Mungo's to hope. Hope that Hagrid would return, hope that they'd get that thing out of him and hope, if it was even possible, that they might win.