Chapter Nine: A Rude Awakening
Three days, six hours and thirty-four minutes. That was how long Harry Potter lay in a coma fighting for what remained of his soul as the piece of Voldemort that had been tethered to him for so long was ripped from his body.
More than once Daphne had started, leaping to his bedside and claiming that he'd moved. Every time she was wrong. Hermione and Ron visited often, Ron becoming moody and moodier with every visit. His inability to keep his temper in check was causing the majority of Grimmauld Place, minus Tracey, to avoid him. Miraculously, the Slytherin girl was able to keep him calm - or at least not screaming and shouting at anyone who came near.
Someone was talking to her.
"What?"
"I said, you should get some rest," Sirius repeated. His feet propped up on the bed and his dark hair was lank around his thin face. He'd barely eaten anything since Harry had undergone the ritual. Daphne, on the other hand, had been unable to stop herself from taking advantage of the endless stream of food Mrs Weasley appeared to be stress cooking. They were all dealing with it in their own ways.
"Plenty of time for that when he wakes up," Daphne countered. "Anyway, you're one to talk."
"I'll get you if he wakes up."
"No, I'm not going anywhere."
"He wouldn't want you killing yourself for him. Go home. Get some rest." The words were firm, even forceful. Sirius had changed since becoming the quasi-head of the Order. He was more authoritative, even calm. It was disconcerting, to say the least. She wanted to argue. Wanted to scream and shout, but every part of her ached. She didn't know when she'd last been this tired or if she'd ever even been exhausted. It ached in her very bones, every part of her begged for sleep and so, begrudgingly, she relented.
"Okay, fine. But if he wakes up, get me. Not Dumbledore, not any of the Order, me." Because if you don't, she added privately in the safety of her own head, I'll make sure Voldemort is the least of your concerns. Despite the lack of overt threat, Sirius nodded gravely.
She turned to Harry. His eyes were closed, but beneath his eyelids, she could see his eyes rapidly jerking around inside his skull. What was he seeing? What was he fighting? She was reminded of the first time she'd seen him like this. She'd promised herself then she'd never feel so useless again. So, why did she feel even more like an observer? Then she'd walked into his mind, dragged him out of the ruin of himself, but now? All she could do was watch and hope. But hope was running out with every second that passed.
Gently, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead muttering the same request she had when he'd left. Come back to me. Then, with heartbreaking slowness, she got pulled away. Sirius' hand was on her shoulder, she hadn't heard him get up but didn't jerk away either. It was the closest she was going to get to any kind of adult support.
Little did she know just how right she was. If she had, Daphne would have stayed where she was.
She appeared back in her room in an instant. The wave of nausea that accompanied magical travel made her knees collapse. The bed saved her from falling to the floor. God, she wanted to sleep. All she wanted to do was collapse into the pillow and let her body get some rest. Any kind of rest. But the bed springs alerted the rest of the house and footsteps were on her before she could even lie down.
"Daph!" Daphne didn't need to look up to tell that was Astoria. Their mother had never been excited to see her or call her 'Daph'. A flurry of brown hair and contained energy slammed into her. "Merlin's beard. We were so worried. Are you okay? What happened? Those guards, they wouldn't tell us anything. Mum threatened to jinx them and everything! It was crazy."
"I'm fine," Daphne heard herself say as she tried and failed to imagine her mother caring enough about her to jinx Order members.
"Really?" Her tone was sceptical and her eyes were overbright. "Because you don't look fine."
"Because my appearance has always meant so much to me," Daphne snapped. She would apologise later, explain later. All she wanted to do was sleep and get back to Grimmauld Place. "I'm fine. Okay? Just leave me alone."
"But -"
"Please. Tori. Please."
"You sure? 'Cause I can stay."
"Please, I just wanna be alone."
Astoria nodded and squeezed her sister. "Okay. But you know where I am."
"I know."
"Love you."
"Mhmm," Daphne hummed her eyes sagging shut for a moment as she let her head collapse onto the pillow. Astoria ran a gentle hand through her hair and left. That should have been it, but Melissa Greengrass had other ideas. She appeared in the doorway like the spectre of death, dressed all in black, a large glass of apparently awful wine lazily held in one elegant hand. Perfect blood red tapped against the glass, dragging Daphne from the embrace of sleep that she had been so desperate to fall into. She lay there and forced her eyes closed, if she could just -
"I know you are awake."
"Like I could ever be allowed to get some sleep." Resigned to the fact that sleep was just going to have to wait, Daphne pulled herself up the bed, realising that she'd never actually crawled beneath the covers. "What do you want, mother?"
"To know where you have been or do I need to remind you that it was you who insisted we must stay in this hovel?"
"You can leave whenever you want." Daphne was sick of this argument. Sick of hearing her mother whine and complain about the fact she was safe in a world that threatened to fall into total darkness. It didn't help that every snide remark or comment came with that patent scathing look of superiority. It was as though the woman had been born knowing she was right about everything, despite being wrong ninety-five per cent of the time.
"Ah, yes, of course. To surrender myself to the Dark Lord who at this very moment wishes your demise. I can see, my dear, why you got us into this mess in the first place. You have already killed my brother, do you wish to see my death too?"
"That was Voldemort." Daphne had heard of the death of the Rookwoods. Not just the Death Eater but the entire family. They had been eradicated from the history books in a single night. The worst part? The other families hadn't condemned the man who supposedly stood for purity and had instead congratulated him. Sycophants.
"Yet, it was our disappearance which earnt the Dark Lord's ire."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because it is the truth, however unpleasant. You are responsible for my brother's death, just as you are for the fate which has befallen our family. I would ask that instead of acting like a child you at least admit the part you play."
"Fine. I upset a psycho nutter who wants to play god, happy?"
"You will never understand."
Harry was literally fighting for his life and what was she doing? Playing games with her stupid mother. The laugh forced itself from her throat like a prisoner fleeing confinement during a riot. "You're pathetic, mother, you really are."
"I am not the one who has banished their family from society for the sake of a sixteen-year-old boy who may yet prove to be inconsequential."
Daphne's fists balled and she was on her feet before she knew it. She'd spent so many years resisting the urge to rise to her mother's stupidity, but it was impossible not to at the mention of Harry. "You don't get to talk about Harry."
"Don't I?" Her voice, unlike Daphne's, was perfectly level. She hadn't even moved from the doorway, her dark eyes dancing with suppressed mirth. "Someone must demonstrate to you how unbelievably foolish you have been."
"Why? For loving someone? For wanting to enjoy my life? For actually thinking change might be a good thing?"
"And what change would that be? Mudbloods know their place, my dear, it is why they leave our world so frequently after Hogwarts. You wish to disturb the status quo, yet you would benefit just as much from how things are as I do." Merlin's beard.
"I don't want -"
"How many times must I tell you that what you want is less important than what is?"
Daphne scoffed. There was no reasoning with her mother. How could she talk to someone who thought a thousand muggle lives were worth less than one pureblood? "Right, just like dad. Well, at least he cared."
"And where did that get him?" Daphne gaped. She had not just said that.
"How - He was your husband!" She was aware of the window cracking, not because of the noise but the disappointed frown on her mother's face. To pureblood society, accidental magic after eleven was the worst faux pa there was. They were all about control, magic or people, and being out of control of the magic they lorded over the rest of the world was social suicide.
"And you are my daughter, does this stop you from making disparaging comments about me? No. Your father's heart is what drove him to his grave and it will send you down the same road if you are not careful."
"I'd rather die giving a shit than live like you." It was savagely pleasing watching her mother's face twist at her cursing.
"Of course, you would. You are young and think life is infinite. It is not. But, once again, you mistake my position. I care only for what is best for you and your sister. Potter is not what you or this family needs." The implication was obvious. Break up with him, return to the fold. The only surprising thing was that it had taken this long. Daphne had been fooled initially by her mother's surprising openness to the relationship but had learned long ago that Melissa Greengrass would always revert to type. Family before anything.
She had thought she would explode at this. Daphne was no fool, she'd known one day it would be her mother's suggestion. But the rage she'd expected to crash over her didn't come, instead, she met with nothing more than the quiet knowledge that she would never betray Harry. "I'm not breaking up with him." Especially not now.
"Then you will destroy us."
"No more than you have, mother."
Little did Daphne want to say that she feared her mother was right, and more than that, that the day was so close she could taste it. If Harry didn't wake up this was all for nothing. The world would tumble into darkness and her mother would be insufferable. Honestly, she didn't know what would be worse.
"I counsel wisdom and am met with immaturity. Think about my suggestion, my dear. Truly think. There have been many leaders of the Greengrass family. Some wise, some foolish, others idiotic and foolhardy. A wise heir would listen to those who understand the way things have always been."
"Sorry to disappoint."
"When will you stop being a child? This is not a matter of disappointment or small-minded point scoring. Your decisions affect us all, they will shape this House for generations. Potter does not signify safety nor does he guarantee stability."
"And what's wrong with that? He's worth it and not just because I love him. He's changing things for the better, how can that not be a good thing?"
"Because men have died for far less and their wives have been left to put together the pieces of their folly. Because I watched as a man far greater than Harry Potter lost himself to a similar task, I would not wish the same for you."
"Stop. Stop pretending you care."
"I care about a great many things, Daphne. I simply know when to bend to the whims of the wind. I would advise you to do the same."
She didn't wait for an answer and instead stalked from the room. Her words lingered in the air, but Daphne ignored them and swung the door shut. It slammed harder than she'd intended but she didn't care. The tears came later when the sound of her mother's bedsprings showed she was asleep. They flooded from her like a waterfall, screams into her pillow tore and scratched at her throat until it burned, but she wouldn't give her the satisfaction. She'd always hoped that something would come from her relationship with Melissa Greengrass, now? Now there could be nothing.
oOo
Harry awoke to the sound of screaming. For once, it wasn't his. That made a nice change.
The shrill piercing anguish filled whatever room he was in. It felt as though his eardrums would burst and his heart would explode and then, as suddenly as it had come, the scream died with a resounding clang. His muscles screamed and his stomach roiled. Voices sounded around him, making the blinding pain in his skull even more intense.
"Sirius, what -"
"Is he okay?"
"- is happening?"
"Harry!"
"Oh my God!"
"What was that thing?"
"Will you lot calm down? Someone get Dumbledore."
His eyes were heavy and dragging them open was like trying to bodily lift Hagrid without magic. A door opened and then immediately slammed. He tried to focus, to get his lips to move, but everything was too heavy. He wasn't sure when he fell unconscious, but when he awoke again someone was holding his hand.
"Why - was - shouting?" Harry managed to say.
"Harry, are you okay? Can you hear me?" There was no mistaking her voice, but the concern overrode any kind of relief he may have felt at hearing it.
Forcing himself to move, Harry tried and failed to sit up. His glasses were nowhere near his face, so when he twisted to look at Daphne all he could see was a blurry version of the girl he loved.
"Don't move too much," she said gently. "Dumbledore said you need rest."
"Since when did you listen to Dumbledore?"
"Since he saved your life and finally started paying attention to what's important," Daphne replied irritably. She fussed with the covers and from what little he could see it was as though she couldn't look at him There was something else going on, something far more important than the spike of pain behind his eyes and the fact that his skin felt as though it were on fire. She took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly.
"Are you okay?" Daphne asked for a second time, she took his hand again gently taking his and her thumb caressing his palm. It was electric and despite everything Harry felt his heart race. Her touch was magical, an achor against the pain and the fear, the only resting place in a world filled with storms.
"Depends, did it work?"
"Yes. It was weird, but it worked."
"He's…"
"Gone?" Daphne asked. "Yes, Harry. He's gone."
Relief dulled his screaming muscles and stilled his churning stomach. The squeeze of his girlfriend's hand was all he needed. This was all he'd ever needed. The war mightn't be over but this, this was finally, finally done. He wanted to laugh, cry, shout and dance all at once. Every sense he had felt more alive that it had ever done before. Colours bloomed, sounds shone and even the dank smell of Grimmauld Place mingling with the sweet tones of Daphne's perfume was somehow perfect.
But something was pulling at his mind.
"Then what's the matter?"
"Quite a few things, it's been a rough few weeks."
"Weeks? How long was I -"
"Three weeks and five days," Daphne answered curtly. Any elation he'd been feeling at finally being free from Voldemort was dead. In fact, any kind of joy he'd had at waking up with her by his side was vanishing. He tried to push himself up again but her grip on his shoulder was firm. "What did I tell you? Rest."
"Not until you tell me what's going on."
"Okay. Fine. Yes." He felt his glasses being roughly shoved into his hands and heard as the chair she was sitting on was shoved backwards. "I'm sorry. Here, let me -"
"No. I'm alright." He wasn't, but he couldn't help the defensive walls that were coming up all around him. She'd only ever been like this when she told him about her father's suicide. Then he'd tried to care for her, but having just been torn from a piece of Voldemort's sole his empathy was somewhat lacking. Ignoring the shooting pains in his arms, he shoved himself up the bed and rammed his glasses on. The world suddenly coming into focus did little to stop his head from spinning, but at least he could see. Daphne's face was set, confliction obvious in her sparkling blue eyes.
"So what's happened? What's wrong? Is it something to do with the Horcrux?"
"Sort of." She didn't continue.
"Well?" The demand burst from him.
"Sorry. I really am. It's just - it's not easy." How do you think I feel? "Sorry. I know this can't be great for you either. Okay, first things first. You're fine, mostly. Your magic took a bit of time repairing itself after, you know, it severed from Voldemort. Dumbledore reckons you'll need a bit of time to get everything back, but that you should be okay."
Harry blinked. "That's not too bad."
"I wasn't finished."
"Oh."
"Yeah." She sat back down, running a hand through her hair. Tired eyes regarded him warily. "Do you remember what happened? Before?"
"Sirius said Hagrid was hurt." Daphne nodded. He didn't need to ask, he could see it written over every pore of her face. But he still didn't dare believe it. His stomach dropped and it had nothing to do with the ritual.
"I'm sorry, Harry." Daphne's voice was soft, far more gentle than his girlfriend ever normally was. "The Healers tried everything but there was too much damage."
"No." This couldn't be happening. Hagrid was always there. He hadn't even had a chance to thank him for getting the heartstring or even say goodbye. Nausea that had nothing to do with the operation washed over him. It was as though the room were shrinking. Hagrid couldn't die. He looked into Daphne's face, trying to see his own heartache but only the shadow of it looked back at him. To her it was weeks old, she'd had time to process it and had barely even known Hagrid but to him, this open wound was tearing through his soul as if it were the sword itself.
"It's my fault."
"No," Daphne corrected, squeezing him so hard her nails dug into his hand. "Hagrid knew what he was doing, Harry. Why he was doing it."
"Yeah. To save me!" Harry's voice was raw, scratchy and dull but it gave his grief somewhere to go.
"To destroy Voldemort. You didn't do anything. I promise you." Daphne said imploringly. "Hagrid wouldn't want you blaming yourself."
Why did people always say that? Hagrid wouldn't him, his parents wouldn't want you, Cedric wouldn't want, Susan wouldn't want; but how could they know? How could anyone know? Tears were cascading down his cheeks. Sobs forced themselves unbidden from his mouth. Clutching with desperate arms he managed to fall into Daphne's open arms. The safety he'd been hoping to find there was gone. Just another empty hollow. That was what he felt. Empty. There was no grief or anger or rage or fury, just a sudden dull expanse of nothing where his heart should be.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But I'm right here, Harry. I promise. I swear. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"
Her frantic whispers barely managed to pierce his consciousness. This couldn't be real. It wasn't. But it had to be. Why would she lie? The visions Voldemort had shown him all those months ago were suddenly all he could see. Daphne. Dead. Sirius. Dead. Hermione and Ron. Dead. He wasn't aware of screaming. He didn't even hear the door bang open and footsteps rush in. He barely noticed the hushed conversation and Daphne's continued, pleading, begging platitudes. All he felt was the hole in his heart that Hagrid should've filled.
For the first time in his life, he wished he could've been the one. Why hadn't it been him? It should have been him. That was what the prophecy said, that was what his whole life had been leading to. Harry versus Voldemort. Not Hagrid.
Never Hagrid.
AN: After the feedback from the epilogue I have decided to try and finish this story. It may not be as polished as I would have liked, however, I want to try and give you all everything I can. I know the epilogue disappointed a lot of people and I don't want to do that. However, as I mentioned, circumstances aren't great right now so this will be a slow process. I want to just say thank you everyone for caring so much about this adventure and for wanting to see the true ending. I'm currently revising my plans for this to get it to be in the best place it can be, so please bare with me as I come on this journey with you.
Thank you again for all your reviews, favourites and follows, it really means the world to me!