Posted 3/24/2015

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This is a work of fiction, based on the book series by J.K. Rowling. Neither do I claim ownership nor do I intend to.


Chapter Sixty-Six - Of Friendships Old and New

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As Daphne was reminded, Harry didn't joke around all the time. Over the course of the last few days, she had seen him very rarely. While he did show up for meals, the rest of the time, he was elsewhere. He didn't visit the library as far as Daphne could tell; she hadn't seen him use the training room either; he never sat around the kitchen or in his room for a chat. And apparently and most startlingly, he didn't sleep either.

At first, she had thought she had merely missed it. On the second day, she had put a letter under the covers of his bed. When she had checked his room in a bout of loneliness on the fourth day, the letter was still there and untouched.

Later that day, she had heard him return from somewhere. She had been in the kitchen for a quick snack when he had stormed in through the front door. Before she was even in the corridor, he had hurried off to somewhere upstairs as if he had been chased by some unimaginable horror. Daphne hadn't found him afterwards, and checking the house with Homenum Revelio hadn't revealed anything. Wherever he had gone, he had also found a way to hide from the world. That evening, he had hastily eaten little more than a snack, his hair singed and spots on his hands that looked a bit like blisters, before hurrying off, not noticing the disapproving glare from Granger or her pointedly clearing her throat. It seemed she had talked to him later, though – the meals after that one, he had eaten more and joined the conversation, if distractedly and sparsely. At times, he had glanced towards the door or into the distance.

A strange mix of feelings raged in Daphne.

For one, she was lonely. Weasley was still keeping his distance – not that Daphne wanted to complain about that – and Kreacher was also busy and not as entertaining of a company than she would have hoped. While the elf was quite willing to help his mistress, he also occasionally drifted off into mutterings – not a good sign or reassuring – and didn't seem to know the concept of company or idle talk. Not counting Harry or paintings like Phineas Nigellus Black, the only other company was Granger, and she acted odd for some reason. A lot of the animosity seemed to have gone; in fact, she seemed to attempt being somewhat nice whenever they did spend any time around each other, but Granger also often found some excuse to leave as soon as possible. Daphne couldn't understand her new angle. A ploy to keep an eye on Daphne? An honest attempt at friendship? Whatever it was, Granger wasn't around as much – likely sharing Harry's new hiding place, if the Muggleborn's tiredness was anything to go by, Harry probably kept her busy with errands or experiments.

Daphne was also hurt. She hadn't wanted to admit it, even to herself, but she had enjoyed her time with Harry; he had grown on her to the point that she missed him dearly. It hurt to not have him around and felt like a bleeding wound – bothering just enough to not be pushed aside. But most of all, it seemed as if Harry didn't seem to feel the same way. It was almost as if he had closed a door and shut out both her and whatever it was between them – as if he had blocked out everything that did not concern his plans for Madam Umbridge. Was his worrying vendetta against his former professor really more important to him than his friends? Was it so important that he didn't want to spend more time than strictly necessary with her? Did she really mean so little to him that she could be pushed aside or ignored for days?

Despite the hurt at his inattention, she also couldn't stop herself wanting things between them the way they had been before. She longed for his smiles, his kisses, the gentle caresses. She missed him asking how she was doing, she missed teasing and being teased; she missed having someone around who cared about her; most of all, she longed for one of the few good things in her situation. It was as if she had lost a friend; even if he couldn't know it, he had chosen the worst moment to abandon her.

Her emotional turmoil didn't help elevate her growing anxiety. Weasley remained oblivious to her troubles, of course; Granger might have picked up on it, but didn't offer any help Daphne could accept or refuse; Kreacher tried something, but was unable to offer what she needed most. And Harry kept away from her, lost in his thoughts and his world that she had no access to, and did nothing.

Unsurprisingly, dark thoughts kept Daphne awake at night. The nightmares had returned – different, yet still retaining their impact. The whispers echoed in her ears again even though Daphne tried blocking them out, not wanting to listen to them or needing to. At times when her stress threatened to overwhelm her, she thought she saw something moving in the shadows. Reluctantly, Daphne had come to accept the problem wasn't something that could be kept out of her head. Hadn't she always known the truth? Hadn't she known it wasn't just the world, but also herself that was fundamentally wrong? Didn't she know she couldn't leave that part of her behind? That it would always follow her? And unlike previous years, the calm of indifference wouldn't come. Instead of the pain dulling to an ache whenever that thought occurred to her, it seemed to sharpen even more.

On the sixth day, a thought stole into her mind. Was that why Harry kept his distance? Had he seen past everything, had seen her true, disgusting self? Did he want to avoid being dragged down by her? That he just might be better off without her? Yet she also found some solace in those stray fears – it remained unconvincing. A part of her knew Harry wouldn't abandon her if he ever learned about the demons of her past haunting her. That part of her also clung to the hope that he might help her heal and start a new part of her life. Growing up, he had grown strong – stronger than Daphne herself and a better person.

She had seen just what he could do. During their mock duels, she had pushed herself farther than she would have thought possible, had thrown every bit of strength and cunning at him, every spell she had ever learned. She had tried everything she could think of, once even resorting to tackling him like Muggles would do, but he had always easily won against her. In fact, it had never been a real fight to begin with. He was simply leagues ahead of her, far too good for her to get any real hits in. He had been playing with her, Daphne guessed, maybe in an attempt to teach her or make her catch up to him, but no matter how hard she tried, she felt she would never be able to. He was simply far too good.

Or, the voice of self-doubt asked, was it that Daphne was leagues behind him and everyone else? That the problem wasn't his skill, but the lack of it in her? Even with the tremendous progress she had made, was it possible she just wasn't any good to begin with?

The envy over Harry's apparent skill was accompanied by appreciation of the same. Without his talent for fighting, he could have died in his fight against Nott. Or he could have gotten killed in one of the run-ins with the Dark Lord. Or he could have gotten caught during one of his outings. If Harry's skill meant he returned safe and sound, then she should not feel even an inkling of envy, Daphne knew, but she did. And knowing as much made her feel even worse. It made fear into undeniable truth – she couldn't outgrow, she couldn't become better or more than she had been. She couldn't leave her past behind and would remain wrong and rotten to the core, poisonous to those close to her.

Even talking to Tracey and Millicent in the afternoon hadn't helped much. Too stuck in her gloom, Daphne had forced herself to smile. Tracey might have missed it, but Millicent had frowned too much – she had realized Daphne's heart hadn't been in it. No amount of acting could have tricked her, but thankfully, she had kept quiet. They had shared a rather pained goodbye; Tracey and Millicent likely very tempted to leave Hogwarts just to be at Daphne's side, Daphne wanting little more than having her friends around to keep her company and sane on the worst and loneliest anniversary of the worst time of her life. Bad enough, in fact, that Daphne thought she heard the whispers again calling out to her, half threat, half promise. She knew she was closer to her breaking point than she had been in years.

Distracted, tired beyond comparison, and worried, Daphne saw the hours crawl at a snail's pace. It had taken forever until a troubled Kreacher had called her to lunch. Weasley had eaten in silence; Granger had thrown Daphne unreadable looks that seemed to Daphne like pity, disgust, and sick glee at her misfortune. Kreacher crept around, doing his work with a deep frown on his face. Harry didn't show up at all. He really had abandoned her, it seemed, and for once, Daphne couldn't fault him at all. All she felt during that lunch was the overwhelming despair pressing in from all sides. Afterwards, the darkness of her room welcomed her with open arms to drain her of her strength.

When dinner came after an eternity in her room, she barely noticed anything going on around her. She went through the motions, eating whatever Kreacher had cooked. If Granger or Weasley talked, she didn't notice.

A touch on her arm shocked her enough to jump in her seat, looking up wide-eyed. She came face to face with Granger.

"You okay?" the Muggleborn asked, her voice filled with unexpected concern. It took Daphne a moment to realize what she had been asked, and another to understand it hadn't really been a question.

As she became aware of her surroundings, Daphne noticed the odd silence around the room.

Weasley sat across the table, frozen in his spot as he seemed unsure of whether or not he was dreaming. Instead of distrust like usual, his entire body language screamed disbelief. Or maybe he didn't know what was going on and waited on edge and dreading to see whether he had to help his friend out of the mess she might have caused. More startling than Weasley's inaction was Kreacher's. The elf stood in the corner and almost out of sight, watching the proceedings intently, his face unreadable.

"Greengrass..." Granger began anew before hesitating. Leaning closer, she lowered her voice even more, "Daphne. I..." She broke off, unsure and, if her expression was anything to go by, overcome with some inner struggle of her own. "If there's..."

With a shaky laugh, Daphne shook off the hand. "Of course I'm all right," she lied, pausing to swallow the despair and a spike of hatred for both herself and the Mudblood rising in her throat. Only a second later, overwhelming regret washed over her; Granger hadn't done anything to deserve the insult or the sentiment. Granger wasn't at fault – it was Daphne herself who was wrong. With a sigh, the fiery hatred left, feeling almost poisonous and scalding on the way out like a dragon's breath. As her mind cleared, she also realized she had broken her vow to herself from October to never use that word again. It made her feel even worse. She really was wrong.

Her turmoil must have shown on her face – Weasley seemed to have made up his mind and had a hint of a threatening glare in his eyes, daring Daphne to do anything. Granger blinked, looking somewhat stunned, but she shook it off in a heartbeat. Her features softened as a sense of understanding shone in her eyes.

"Daphne?" Granger repeated, waiting whether Daphne corrected her.

"I'm fine," Daphne lied again, managing to keep her tone neutral as the pain akin to bleeding lessened. Instead, she felt bled dry and empty.

Granger didn't seem to believe her. Neither did Weasley; unlike Granger, his glare intensified.

The Muggleborn held her breath, a twitch in her eye as she fought with herself. "I..." she began, only to be interrupted by Daphne jumping from her seat.

"Thanks for the meal, Kreacher," she said with a stilted, curt bow. "If you'll excuse me..."

Without waiting for an answer, she all but fled the kitchen. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't quite made it to her room when she heard footsteps behind her. Granger had followed her.

"Gree... Daphne," the Muggleborn said with a sense of urgency in her voice.

"What," Daphne spat, immediately softening her tone as regained control over herself, "do you want?" She managed to not glare, but her annoyance was probably still clear to see.

Granger hesitated, glancing around. "To... to help. You, I mean. I... I can tell there's something... off?" She paused uncertainly before continuing, "And I don't want to pry, but..."

"But what?" Daphne asked, rolling her eyes, crossing her arms. "Even if..."

"I know about you and Harry," Granger interrupted. Moments later, shock and regret flashed on her face, and she swallowed a lump.

Daphne stared, dumb-founded.

"I'm... I'm sorry, I... Well, I don't know the details, but..." Granger wrung her hands, but from the looks of it, couldn't stop talking. "I–I tried keeping out of it, I really did. None of my business what... But I do know about... I accidentally stumbled into his room, and you were there, sleeping, and... It clicked. I must've been blind before, but... Anyway, I know. About you and Harry. That you're... something? I don't..."

Daphne blinked, unsure of what to say. Luckily, Granger didn't seem to have the same problem – she took a deep breath to sort her thoughts and continued with a steady tone, "I know, is what I'm trying to say. And... I trust Harry. If he... He was no fan of yours when you began your talks. Something must have changed since then. He accepted you as a friend. He... Whatever is going on between you... I'm trying to help. You, I mean." Granger hesitated, pursing her lips. "I know he can be an idiot. And I know he's... Harry doesn't mean anything by it. He isn't... He's not trying to be mean or anything, he just has...something on his mind." There was a definite amount of uncertainty in her voice. "And he's not... Hmm. I don't know how much he..."

Daphne snorted against her will. "Seems like it," she agreed.

"Well," Granger said with a smile, taking courage, "I know he'll come around eventually. He's an idiot sometimes, but he's not... I know I can't replace Harry. Not sure if I want to, really," she added, momentarily avoiding Daphne's eye. "But if you want to talk... If you need... something..." She drifted off.

Oddly enough, the offer did make Daphne feel slightly better.

"Thank you for..." She drifted off.

"You'd do the same," Granger spoke up with only a hint of doubt in her voice. "I trust Harry's judgement, and if he gave you a chance... Sorry, I didn't spy on you or anything, it just happened. And I tried keeping out of it, but –"

"None of your business?" Daphne guessed.

"Yes," Granger laughed. "Yes, indeed. I... It isn't. Whatever... you two get up to isn't... He's old enough to know what... Old enough that he should know what to do and what not to. Old enough to have his priorities straight. It's just... He's invested in this business right now; it's all he thinks about, all he does. All he talks about. A year ago, I'd have been happy if he'd applied himself to something worthwhile like that, but now, he should have..." Granger broke off, gesturing half-heartedly around and at Daphne.

"He is old enough to decide what he wants to do," Daphne told the Muggleborn with a shrug to hide the pain the admission brought with it. "If Madam Umbridge is more important to him..."

"More pressing, he thinks," Granger corrected with pursed lips. "Not sure if –"

"Why?" Daphne couldn't help asking. "What is she to him that he's so...?"

"I'd..." Granger glanced around. "I shouldn't tell you. I'm... sorry, I really am, but... Ehh."

"War secrets?" Daphne guessed, rolling her eyes.

"Not my story to tell," Granger said. "Umbridge is... Hmm. No, I shouldn't. Maybe Harry will, but..."

"Well," Daphne spoke up after a moment of awkward silence, "I'd better... get ready for bed, you know?"

Granger's face fell. "Oh, sure! Don't... Good night, then," she said with a forced smile.

As Daphne walked into her room, she saw the Muggleborn mumbling furiously as she fingered and enchanted something small and golden with a very determined face.

Once more, the darkness of her room welcomed Daphne. Mechanically, she got ready for bed, only hesitating over which nightdress to wear. In the end, there wasn't much of a choice – much like with wands, she felt a spark of long-forgotten happiness and life the moment she ran her fingers over the smooth fabric. It seemed ages ago when she had worn it for the first time – her wedding night when things had been far better. smooth, like water flowing over her body, slightly thrilling in all its revealing glory. Recalling Harry's surprised expression brought back memories of their time together, making Daphne smile faintly. Even in her state, thinking of him gave her strength and comfort as the warmth of fondness spread through her.

Lying on her bed a quarter of an hour later, she heard the sound of the front door closing.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice echoed through the hallway.

It pained Daphne just a bit to hear his voice call out, not to her, but Granger. Then again, Daphne mused with a sad smile, he had likely spent a lot more time with her over the last week; maybe he had something urgent to discuss with his friend. It seemed reasonable.

Raised voices drifted up – Granger was talking, guessing from the pitch, but Daphne blocked it out. It didn't matter to Daphne. Once or twice, she thought she heard Harry, but she also pushed that thought aside. Maybe she had, maybe she only wished she had.

Memories distracted her from reality – Hogwarts Castle looming overhead as nervous boys chatted next to her; a girl her age sending her a toothy grin; her father's tear-stained face and hopeless expression. Her hand in Potter's while cheers filled the air, his lips on hers. An overwhelming emptiness, a void that swallowed any happiness. A flash of Astoria's smile that didn't reach the eyes behind their mother's back. A short, but sweet kiss in the library while Granger rummaged overhead. The happy faces of her family around her as she carefully cut the cake. Madam Pomfrey's concealed pain. Pansy brushing her hair with a superior smirk at her new dorm mates. Tracey's forced smile while Draco sniggered. Harry lying motionless as her heart missed a beat. Of the tremendous relief she felt when the Hat had declared her a Slytherin – her place in the world. Of Millicent's helpless glance around to their friends. Of the first true happiness in months, of belonging and disbelief – and hope beyond all reason – as if she had suddenly been bathed by sunlight after a life in darkness; alive and longing as she kissed Harry.

A knock on the door woke her from her memories. Go away, Daphne thought. Just leave me be.

A second knock. "Daphne?" Harry asked through the door. "Can I... Can we... talk?"

She sat up, suddenly nervous and torn between sending him as far away as she could and running out as if the last week hadn't happened. Instead of either, she answered the door.

"Oh, good," Harry said with a relieved smile. "I had thought you were... asleep. Or didn't... Look, I'm... I'm sorry for how I... No. I... Can we talk?"

"Come in, then," Daphne told him with a sigh, closing the door behind him.

"Right. Well, I was... an idiot. I didn't... mean to ignore you or push you aside or... act the way I did. I'm... truly sorry for how I treated you the last few days. I should've..." He broke off, shaking his head dejectedly. "Should've paid more attention and... for that, I'm also sorry. I... Well, there were so many things I thought about that I was kind of lost in thought."

"You were busy with that war of yours," she replied with a humourless chuckle. "I get it; it's important."

"So are you," he interrupted with unnecessary force.

Daphne froze in shock. She couldn't remember him ever saying anything of that sort to her. In fact, she realized it might have been the first time either had given voice to their feelings about the other.

Harry blinked, looking startled by his words. After a moment, he repeated in a softer tone, "So are you. You are important to me. I'm... These last few days, I thought of nothing but the war. I was so focused on that that I didn't even... But I should have. It's important, but so are my friends." Stepping closer, he said, "So are you. I must have been blind to not see what was going on right under my nose. I have nothing to say to my defence. I was stupid; I was wrong. And I'm sorry I wasn't there when... I should have been."

He tried avoiding her eyes, but she turned his head with a finger. "You are, aren't you?" she asked, part fearful, part shocked, part hopeful.

"I... I am, yes," he admitted. "I'm sorry, Daphne."

Silence descended while she tried to sort out her own feelings. "It hurt," she told him, seeing guilt reflected on his face for a moment. "It hurt that you cut me off so completely – abandoned me." She raised a finger to stop his protest. "It's what it felt like, and I... It was probably the worst possible moment you could have chosen for it," she said with a with of anger. "Don't I mean something to you? I'm important, you say? It..." She broke off, shaking her head as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "It hurt, Harry. It truly did because..." She sent him a beseeching look. "Don't do that again. Please? Don't..."

"I won't," he told her, relaxing slightly. "I promise –"

"Don't," she spoke up. "I... Didn't you say you'd... be there if I... ?"

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," Harry replied with a sigh. "Yes, I promised I would be there if you –"

"Granger," Daphne interrupted him. "She saw it. She talked to me earlier and offered her help. Said you acted like an idiot."

"Yeah," Harry chuckled. "She told me the same. She... knows, Daphne. She knows there's something between us. Not what exactly, I think, but..."

"I know," Daphne interrupted with a nod. "She told me as well. That she knows about us," Daphne said, indicating Harry and her. "Something about seeing us. 't was just a question of time, I guess."

"The night she removed the bandages, she said. Been a while, I'm surprised she hadn't butted in earlier. Positively surprised, that is, that she was willing to stay out of it and trust me. And then I went and botched it," Harry spoke with a dejected look at a spot on the wall.

"You apologized," Daphne reminded him.

"After Hermione called me back and set me straight. Gave me quite an earful about it. Haven't seen her that angry in forever," he replied, shaking his head. "Shouldn't have been necessary. You're my –"

"Wife, yes," Daphne interrupted with a smile.

"No," he disagreed. "Or rather, no, that's not what I meant. That's not the right... Marriage, husband and wife, that's just a legal term. People can be married and yet hate each other. Or do it for the privileges. For money or something. Maybe they're going through a divorce or... Or maybe they're indifferent. Marriage, that's... No. Husband, wife, that can mean so much and that's why it says so little. I mean, yeah, we are married, but we already were when you arrived here. We were when we stayed out of each others way or when we argued, and we still are, but something's... changed?"

He stared off, a storm of emotions in his eyes that Daphne could easily identify. He was searching for the right words, the right meaning to them.

Finally, he sighed. "I... You are important to me. I do... care about you."

Daphne sent him a sad smile. It felt good to know he did, but she hadn't forgotten his behaviour over the last few days.

"I'm not making much sense, do I?" Harry laughed. "But I know there is... I'm not very good at this. I... Hmm."

"Need some time to come up with something?" Daphne asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not sure whether it'd help, really. I... Hrm. I... care about you. I..." He hesitated, narrowing his eyes as something like realization glimmered in them. "Love?" he tried, looking at her. "Corny, I know, but... I'm sorry, I'm not very... good at this, I guess. I..."

"Love," Daphne repeated with a thick voice, fighting the tears that threatened to spill as a ray of happiness broke the darkness around her and an elating warmth spread through her.

"Well, yes," he said, smiling slightly. "I... I care about you, Daphne. A lot. I... Now that I'm here, that I had to think about it, about us... I don't really have much experience with these things, but... It makes sense. Kind of. I'm... Curious? Something like that. To see where... what'll happen. Or maybe what... So, I love you. Heh, quite cheesy, eh? Guess I really am an idiot. Not to see it, to have taken so long. To not see what was going on here. I –"

Unable to contain it any longer, Daphne jumped towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and weeping happy, relieved tears into his shoulder.

Maybe five minutes later, she had regained control over herself, enjoying the gently swaying they had settled into.

"Well, I hate to," Harry spoke up, sighing, "but..."

"Think we could do something tonight?" she interrupted, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Err, sure? I–I guess?" he replied, sounding a bit unsure. "Talk, maybe? You seem... seemed a bit down. A bit... Err... unwell?" Harry tried tentatively. "I know I don't have any right –"

"To ask?" Daphne sighed as a slight shiver ran through her. "I..." She broke off as the memory drifted to the forefront of her mind – the smiling face, the sick mixture of love and insanity hovering above her, the glint of madness shimmering in the eyes; the overwhelming panic burning inside her while her body refused to obey and move. For a moment, she wasn't with Harry any more; her heart raced, threatening to burst out of her chest, as she shivered violently. "One day, all right?" she told Harry, forcing herself to return to reality. "Not... not today. One day, I'll tell you, but... Today's just... There's something you should know, something you... Not today. Please? Could we maybe... I don't know." Her eyes stared into the distance as she blocked out the whispers. "Don't want to sleep," Daphne said somewhat stubbornly, as if to answer the whispers. Not this night, she thought. Not when I still have strength left.

The whispers fell silent, but Daphne couldn't quite shake the uneasy feeling of an unsaid promise – if not this one, then another one.

"Daphne?" Harry asked, tensing slightly in her arms.

"I... Fine," she lied. "Just... just feeling all over the place. Tired and stressed and relieved and hurt and happy and angry and stubborn and scared and... burning and freezing and all of that, you know?" When Harry didn't answer, Daphne chuckled. Smiling shakily, she stepped away. "So... Could we do something tonight? Talk? About something stupid? Or play a game or... or something? Today... tonight, I could use a friend. I... missed spending time with you."

"I'm sorry," he told her again.

"Ah, no, it wasn't a complaint, just a statement," she explained, slowly regaining her strength. "It was lonely without you around. I talked with Millicent and Tracey today, but... Well, 't was nice and all, but it wasn't the same as having someone around who... who's around."

"Well, I'll try making it up tonight," he told her, adding as an afterthought, "And try not to have to again."

She glanced around the room, her mind strangely calm and filled with thoughts like fluffy clouds. "I'm hungry," she declared. "Didn't eat all that much earlier, I think. You?"

"I... okay?" Harry answered, blinking in surprise. "Yeah, I guess that's... a bit random, but fine. Let's eat."

"Okay, just..." Daphne turned and fetched her dressing gown. When she turned, she saw Harry hastily glancing away.

"What?" she wondered.

"Nothing," he tried, but seeing her raised eyebrow, added, "Well, your... clothes. You know, your..."

"Yes?" she asked, smirking.

"Well, I hadn't meant to, of course but... it looks... err, nice," he said lamely.

"That it does," she agreed with a smile, putting the gown on. "But it'd be a bit cold, so..."

Together and arm in arm, they descended into the kitchen –

Only to find Granger sitting at the table, nursing a cup of something dark. She glanced up, lost in thought, when they walked in, only to jump in her seat in shock.

Daphne made to step away from Harry out of habit, but he pulled her slightly to him and met his friend's gaze.

"Evening," he told her in a challenging tone.

"Yes, evening," Granger replied, glancing back and forth between Harry and Daphne. "Everything cleared up?" she asked hesitantly, but she refrained from commenting or complaining about the show of intimacy.

"In a way," Daphne spoke up, letting go of Harry and sitting down on the opposite side of the table. "Thanks for asking. And..." she added with a smile, leaning slightly forward and lowering her voice, "for getting involved."

Granger's eyes jumped to Harry who slipped into the seat next to Daphne, but acted as if he hadn't heard anything.

"Oh," the Muggleborn laughed quietly, relaxing, "don't mention it." Extending her hand, she continued, "Hermione."

Feeling odd, Daphne nevertheless shook the offered hand, replying, "Daphne." The moment she had let go, she called Kreacher.

"Mistress called?" the elf asked, bowing.

"I'm hungry. Do you think you could get Harry and me something?"

The elf's eyes jumped from to the other before he nodded. "Kreacher will do as he was ordered." He was gone before Daphne could rephrase it as a request.

"Can't say I miss the old Kreacher," Harry quipped.

Daphne threw him a questioning look, which he answered with a half-hearted shrug and a pat on her arm. "We had a bit of a rough time at first," Harry told her. Granger's snort made Daphne think there was a lot more to it than he had said, but the clanking of pots from the counter made Daphne reconsider asking about it.

The silence that followed wasn't all that comfortable, in about equal part due to Harry's lingering hand and Hermione's presence. "So," she began finally, glancing all over the room, but conspicuously landing on Harry's hand on Daphne's arm. "I don't... It's driving me mad, okay? Not my business, right, but –"

"We're good," Daphne interrupted with a tone of finality.

Hermione blinked. "Oh. That's... Yeah. That's good, but... The way you came down here, I guessed as much already. I meant... Well, are you two... ?"

"Oh," Harry replied, chuckling. "A couple? Well, I... Hmm. Yes?" He glanced to Daphne, raising an eyebrow.

She bit her lip to stop from blushing or smiling happily. "Yeah," she agreed. "Yeah, we are."

Grinning at her for a moment, Harry turned back to face Hermione. "So there you go."

"You don't have a problem with that, do you?" Daphne added, nudging him with a lop-sided smile and sidelong glance to stop him from looking quite so smug about it.

Hermione made two attempts before she gave a reply. "I... Well, not my business, is it? Harry's... You're old enough to... I mean, it is kind of... odd, I can't deny it. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean to... Harry's a... Well, you know, I'm his friend and all, so I'm biased, right? And I'm sure you're... It's just... There's teenage romance, and then there's your story, and it's so far out of the norm, where you came from, that you ending up... Problem?" She glanced around the room, holding her breath. "Well, I... Congratulations, I guess? I'm sorry, it's just... No offence, Harry, but... Remember the hassle getting a date for the Yule Ball?"

"Vividly," Harry laughed.

"Right," Hermione continued. "I half-expect that Harry still being in there, that idiot who didn't know how these things work, so you and... anyone, really..."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he interrupted.

"I'm sorry!" Hermione told him. "It's just... We've been through so much together, and I know you quite well, I think. You're a decent guy... for a guy, I mean, and I know you'd... I'm your friend and all, but boyfriend? Just like that? After the trouble you had in the past? A bit of a shock. A year ago, you'd have made a fool of yourself."

"He does that now anyway," Daphne put in with a nudge to Harry, trying not to smile.

Turning to her, Hermione sighed. "Well, if you need help knocking some sense into him or something..."

Daphne nodded with a smile. "Thanks for offering."

"I mean," Hermione rambled on, " it's only right, now that you are part of his crazy life. Keeping him on track, that's... Ehh. A lot of work on the best of days." She drifted off, frowning slightly for some reason. "So, I guess you've already told her a bit about your past?" she asked Harry with a look that seemed oddly meaningful. "About the key points in your life? About... your life before you became Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"A few key points, but not much," Harry replied, holding the gaze. "Just a bit of bonding. A bit about the Dursleys and Hogwarts but there's still a bit that's left unsaid. Didn't want to spoil the mood, you know?" Chuckling, he added, "Gotta keep a bit of the mystery around to spruce things up."

After a moment of silence, Hermione laughed. "Must have been thrilling tales, right?"

"They weren't bad," Daphne mused with a smile of her own. "Harry's an... entertaining boy," she added, ignoring his snort. She just hoped Hermione wouldn't pick up on the inside joke.

"Well, he does have a knack for making my life... unusual and unexpected," Hermione agreed.

The clattering of pots from behind the counter dispelled their light-hearted mood as each was left to their thoughts and an uncomfortable silence followed.

"Right," Daphne tried after a while, looking to Harry, "you were out earlier, weren't you?"

"I was, yes," he confirmed, nodding.

"And how are your plans proceeding? You've kept away most of the week, lost in thought whenever we did meet..."

Hermione glanced to Harry with a worried expression, but didn't complain or speak up.

"Well," Harry replied. "I'm mostly done, actually. I just checked in with Umbridge earlier, checking her routine. There isn't a large margin of error this time, so it's better safe than sorry. Apart from that, well..." He glanced to Hermione who nodded.

"I'm mostly done as well," she confirmed. "And I'm still coming with you, make no mistake. I know better than to hope you won't run into trouble along the way. Besides... Well, you know what I mean," she told him with a lop-sided smile.

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, couldn't do it without you anyway." To Daphne, he added, "So there you go. We're ready, so it'll be tomorrow or the day after that. Depends on the weather. Sorry I was a bit –"

"Stop," Daphne interrupted with a sigh. "Just stop. You've said your part already." After a quick glance to Hermione, she turned to face Harry. "But why Madam Umbridge? What is so special about her that you... ?"

"We have history," Harry told her, pursing his lips.

"Yeah, Gr... Hermione did imply there's some story, and I know she wasn't all that fair during our fifth year, but –"

"It's more than that," Harry interrupted. "Yes, she wasn't all that fair in school, as you called it. An understatement, in my opinion, but that's not all there is to it. She was at school to keep me in check and silence me as best as she could. You know, so the Ministry could pretend all was fine and there was no dark lord secretly preparing for war. Of course, with dear Lucius lining Fudge's pockets..."

"Giving incentives isn't that unusual," Daphne pointed out. "It's part of the balance in the Wizarding World, whether you like it or not."

"When I spoke out in class," Harry continued, "and told her off for the horribly useless teachings that would never prepare a student for life or a fight, she –"

"Or the exams," Hermione added. Finding herself stared at by both occupants, she shrugged. "Well, it's true. Not preparing for life is bad, but not even preparing for the short-term goals? What good is a teacher if they can't do that? Exams are fairly straight-forward compared to life, yet she didn't even prepare us for those."

"She didn't want to, you mean? Anyway," Harry continued with a slight smile, "she goaded me into yelling the truth at her."

"I heard about that," Daphne told them. "That was some excellent gossip, the whole school knew about it by nightfall."

"Yes, not my best moment, but I couldn't stand it. She gave me detention. Lines with a Blood Quill."

Daphne pursed her lips. "I heard about that as well." Her eyes went to his hand.

"Yes. And when we arranged for something like a Defence club to get the practice we might one day need," Harry continued, "she had a Decree ready to dissolve all clubs, including Quiddtich. Waited forever to allow Gryffindor to reform. We had to go to Dumbledore, so as a consequence, she secured herself even more rights she had no justifiable claim to. When I gave an interview, telling my side of the story –"

"A Decree to forbid the Quibbler, yes, I remember. It backfired, but..."

"Indeed it did, but it just proves how far she was willing to go to silence me. She had made it her goal to see me thrown out of Hogwarts for spreading nasty, nasty lies."

"I'll admit that it's bad, but..." Daphne tried. Behind the kitchen counter, Kreacher was grumbling and clattering with some pots and dishes.

"And on top of all that," Harry continued, "she also put a lot of discriminating laws in place to block those she deemed below her from opportunities. Like werewolves. Keep them from getting a steady income and they're more willing to join Riddle or Greyback – they promise food and a better life, so why not join them? We really don't need to send them more supporters; that's how extremists gain strength. I'd rather give werewolves a reason to stay out of this war than send them right into the arms of my enemies. And Umbridge? She's a big problem in that regard, indirectly helping Riddle and Greyback. Good job, Toad. And more condemning and personal, she was there during my trial before that year. My trial for using magic out of school? She was undeniably set against me."

"I... Trial? There was something in the paper, but I don't remember all that well. What did you do?"

"I cast a Patronus to defend myself and my cousin against a couple of Dementors that had attacked us."

"Dementors? Just randomly attacking?" Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Never heard of that. Well, you know, that's all the seem to be doing right now, but I never heard of them attacking you."

"Yeah, well, the Daily Prophet kept quiet about it, of course, but they were there; Umbridge knew it, and she knew I had to defend Dudley and myself."

"How could she... ?" Daphne laughed before hesitating when neither Hermione nor Harry joined in and she understood what he had implied. "No. No, she didn't," Daphne said. "She... She didn't!" Behind the counter, something fell to the ground with a clattering noise, but no one paid it much attention.

"She did," Hermione confirmed, pursing her lips.

"To silence me," Harry added. "She admitted it in her office. When we were caught by the Inquisitorial Squad. Bulstrode was there, ask her when you have the time."

"I... Still, she's a Ministry official!" Daphne yelled. "She couldn't... wouldn't have... You could have died!"

"Lost my soul, but yes," Harry agreed.

"She tried to get the Boy-Who... Harry Potter Kissed? Is she... ?" Daphne ran a hand through her hair. "What did she expect would have happened if it had worked? How would they have explained that away? What kind of hare-brained plan is that? There's no way they could have covered that up!"

"That's what's bothering you?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, it's also wrong, but... Even Harry's doing a better job covering his tracks!"

"Oh," he laughed, "thanks!"

"You know what I mean," Daphne said with a smile. "Not only did she try silencing a person of public interest, she used a plan with too many holes to ever hope getting away with it. If the Dementors had gotten you, how would she have tried to explain that? There's no way the public wouldn't have learned about it, no way people wouldn't have asked questions. If anything, it might have lent credence to your story. Unless, of course, she knew you could deal with Dementors, but there precious little that works against them."

"Don't forget the torture threat," Hermione spoke up, looking to Harry.

"The what?" Daphne hissed, glaring with clenched teeth.

"Yeah, the Cruciatus. To loosen my tongue," Harry confirmed, leaning back in his seat. "When she caught me in her office. Again, Bulstrode was there, but didn't speak up. She never told you?"

"No," Daphne ground out, glaring at the table. It hurt to hear her friend had kept it secret from her. Not even when marrying Harry had come up had Millicent said anything, and it felt a bit like a betrayal. Had her friend really kept such an injustice secret? Or had she been so ashamed of her complicity that she had preferred to forget about it?

"Well, she didn't go through with it," Harry explained. "Umbridge, I mean. Se just threatened me with it. Oh, and she tried to question me with Veritaserum once, but I noticed something was off and avoided drinking any."

"And after the take-over at the Ministry, she was put in charge of punishing the Muggleborns," Hermione added. "That's the kind of woman that has been put in charge of the Law Enforcement."

"Sweet, eh?" Harry chuckled. "And that's just what she's done to me or mine. That we know of, mind. So yeah, Umbridge is... a special case, I'd say. A nut case I can't let them give any more power to. She's trouble."

Daphne was lost in her thoughts, trying to work through all she had heard. She believed it, but she didn't want to.

Her musings were interrupted when Kreacher appeared, levitating some dishes and two pots of whatever he had come up with. "Kreacher has returned. Kreacher hopes Master and Mistress like what he has made."

"It looks and smells nice," Daphne told him with a smile. "Thank you."

The house-elf bowed curtly as some wrinkles appeared at the corners of his mouth. Smiling, Daphne realized a moment of shock later – something she hadn't seen from him that often.

"Does Miss Granger want more tea?" Kreacher grumbled, looking to the Muggleborn girl who had just set down her cup.

Hermione's eyes bulged; she coughed. "Err, yes, that'd... Yes. Err, thank you, Kreacher," she said, staring at him in utter disbelief.

With a curt nod to her, Kreacher left for the kitchen counter.

Harry and Hermione looked about as shocked as Daphne felt, and it was Harry who voiced the thought they all had. "What... just happened?" he asked, blinking as if trying to wake up from a dream.

"I have no idea," Hermione gave back, nonplussed. "I... What did yo do to him?" she hissed.

"Nothing," Harry assured her. "I did nothing!"

"Me neither," Daphne added, equally flabbergasted. Only a moment later, a thought occurred to her – eyes jumping to the house-elf busying himself with Hermione's tea, a small smile formed on her lips. Neither Harry nor Daphne had done anything to cause the sudden change in Kreacher, she realized. Hermione had when she had reached out to his current mistress. Hermione had caused the change by offering help and friendship.

From that evening on, Kreacher treated her like any respectable guest of the Noble and Ancient House of Black.


A pain to write this one, it really was. I had all these fun ideas about how things should go – Hermione being the secret Secret Keeper, desperately trying to not spill the beans; Ron not taking the hint; Harry and Daphne inadvertently stumbling through conversations filled with double meanings ("Going out" as either dating or leaving the house, that kind of thing). For this chapter, I had this idea of Daphne and Harry acknowledging the change in their relationship, followed by the attack on Umbridge. And then I sat down and it went downhill from there until Daphne was stuck in the Valley of the Eternal Suffering and I flung way too many words at that situation. Blerg.

But it's not all bad, and I'm glad it worked out this way. One, Harry and Daphne have taken an important step. Two, I avoid the slapstick of Hermione struggling to not tell. Three, I finally managed to have Hermione grow significantly and take responsibility responsibly instead of trying to force things to go her way. Four, I have a bit more time coming up with something for Umbridge.

Ideally, Daphne descent into despair should've been more drawn out – a gradual sinking, if you will, but investing two or three chapters on it would have really messed up the timeline. Oh well, maybe once it's time for the movie. I also had a hard time deciding on the viewpoint. Hermione – sure, have her notice and worry about Greengrass, but it'd have been an even more abrupt burst of angst. Harry could have worked as well – Harry or Hermione would've allowed showing the talk between the two, and I'm very sad I couldn't find a good way to put it in, even if everyone can guess how it would've gone. So Daphne it is.

Sorry. Enough ramblings.