Eighth Year

I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Warning: genderbent character (Harry); fem slash

Eighth year was … difficult, to put it simply.

Everywhere she looked, she saw battles, flashes of deadly spells, blood coating the walls, bodies falling …

She couldn't even walk down the corridor where Fred died.

Euphemia found herself by the Thestrals, simply gazing up at the skeletal creatures as they mingled in the forest. She knew Luna had already fed them today, not even two hours ago if Euphemia was right, so they weren't bothering her for food or anything, just letting her observe as she tried to do something about the screaming in her head.

'Tried' being the operative word in that sentence.

Being on the run for a year had done wonders for her instincts (sense the sarcasm), and the sound of crunching leaves to her left had Euphemia up and wand drawn in a split-second, her faithful holly pointed at the sound of someone approaching. She kept it up until the person walked into the clearing, pausing at the sight of a highly-strung and armed Euphemia Potter. (Sometimes she wondered how she appeared to others, but she decided she had enough to worry about as it was. She'd rather not know.)

"Potter."

The other woman definitely wasn't the same girl as before, with dark circles under her eyes, long blonde hair limp and uncared for, even the confident composure had been replaced by sagged shoulders and a weary shuffle.

She hated it, but Euphemia could empathise with Daphne Greengrass a lot right now.

She looked into blue eyes and flushed, hastily stuffing her wand away and turning her head. "Sorry about that, I'm just …"

"It's fine, I get it," Daphne replied with a grimace.

That was the sad thing about their class; everyone in their year that returned – that could return – got it. Intimately. How bloody ironic was it that all Houses were finally on the same page, and it only took a war and their school becoming a battlefield to do it?

"Do you mind if I watch the Thestrals as well?"

Euphemia looked back at the other girl and wanted to laugh, though she knew it would probably be hysterical and more than a little worrying. How pathetic was it that they were reduced to wanting companionship so badly they'd sit on the dirty forest floor and look at creatures that were associated with death?

Eighth year was definitely difficult.

"Go ahead," she murmured, moving back to her original spot against the tree, shuffling over to give the other girl more room. A minute later another body joined her on the dirt, and the two of them sat in silence and watched the no-longer-invisible creatures.

For once, the silence wasn't so loud.

Euphemia never would have thought she'd one day call Daphne Greengrass a friend, but here they were.

Every day for the past six months they'd visited the Thestrals at the same time, sat in silence and soaked up the lack of anything to sooth the sheer wrongness of the world around them. They didn't always go at the same time exactly, and one of them usually had to leave at some point before the other, but there was always a time when they were together.

Then they started talking, mundane little conversations about their lessons, or the Thestrals, even some amused reminiscing about some of their funnier past lessons or professors – though never the ones who'd passed on, no way.

Soon after, they were making plans to walk to the forest together, wrapping up warm in the winter cold and bringing food from the kitchens – treacle tart for Euphemia and apple pie for Daphne – and practicing heating charms so they wouldn't freeze to death.

Eighth year was starting to be … less difficult, for some reason.

As she threw a lump of raw meat at one of the baby Thestrals, she turned to see Daphne laughing at the scene, a red flush on her cheeks and hair shining once more, and Euphemia finally realised.

"What are you doing after graduation?"

Euphemia turned sideways to see Daphne munching on a sandwich, looking rather blasé and uninterested, which she would have believed if not for the tense line of her shoulders and the way her blonde head was determinedly facing away from Euphemia. She felt her heart thud heavily and wondered not for the first time if she'd ever have a chance to be happy for once.

She'd tried with Fred, but trying hadn't been enough.

"I … don't actually know. You know I was going to be an Auror, but the thought kind of turns my stomach now. I … is it selfish for me to say I want to take some time and figure things out?"

A pale hand was suddenly wrapped around hers and squeezing tightly, though the appendage was shaking terribly, and Euphemia could suddenly feel her heart in her throat for reasons she couldn't understand.

Daphne cleared her throat. "I'm going travelling after school. My family has a few houses across Europe and America, even one in Australia, so I want to go out and see the world. Tracey … it's something she wanted to do, and I want to do it in her memory.

"Come with me and figure things out on the way."

Euphemia watched as Daphne finally turned to face her, wide blue eyes flashing with terror and determination, hope and resignation. Daphne Greengrass wasn't someone who usually bared her soul for anyone, especially not after losing her girlfriend in the war, and Euphemia was floored at the trust she was being shown right now.

And she wanted.

"Yes," she breathed quietly, throat too raw to say anything louder. She nodded her head rapidly, beaming like she hadn't for years, like she hadn't since Sirius had told her she was his family.

As Daphne leaned forward and sealed their lips together, Euphemia finally felt free of burdens, even if it was only going to be for a short while. If that were the case, she'd embrace this warm and cherish the moment.

Eighth year was freeing for once.

A/N: Hello!

This is the second chapter I've posted today, so check out the previous one if you feel like it.

I don't know why, but fem Harry/Daphne has suddenly become very interesting to me. Does anyone know of any fics with them that aren't just smut? Not that I have anything against that, but sometimes I want to read a full-length story, and this couple needs way more love. Am I alone in this thought? Let me know.

See you next time, and happy reading!