AN: Hi everyone! Yes, yes, another one. This, however, is co-authored, as you could read in the summary. What can you expect? A Haphne slice-of-life as they form a unique friendship, grow to love each other and everything that comes with it. You can expect the lives of the HP characters post-war. This, obviously, is not canon-compliant, so no Scorpion Malfoy and no Albus Dumbledore Severus Snape Potter.

Prepare for eventual smut btw. Also, this chapter was written by me: StellaStarMagic. The next will be written by SeaFeudJagger, who also uploads this on AO3 with me added as co-author.

Enjoy!

May 4, 1998

Standing here, in front of the heavily damaged castle of Hogwarts, still gave Daphne a feeling of surreality.

Rubble, broken walls and scorched battlements – the war was over, but the scars remained omnipresent. Whether it was their minds and bodies bearing them or their school turned battleground was irrelevant.

A couple of days had passed since the war was finally over. The Dark Lord was dead, as was his mad right-hand witch Bellatrix Lestrange and many more of his followers. But so...but so were so many others. Even after two days of being away, recuperating and coming to terms with everything, she still did not feel rested. Still, in her mind's eye, she was constantly being flooded with images of bodies upon bodies of students. Of broken families, of crying siblings, of heartbroken mothers and fathers. In a sense, she could count herself lucky: Astoria, her little sister and her everything – she was safe and sound. Their family, however, did not escape unscathed despite having been supposed to be on the safe side of the war.

Daphne heaved a shaky sigh. Restless and in a constant state of nervous shivering, she had still decided to come and help with the cleaning and repairs of the castle. It was the least she could do. Guilt and shame clawed at her skin and flesh, at her conscience, dragging up memories of her words and deeds and she wished she could just forget. She wished she could just snatch a time-turner and go back in time, as far as possible.

With hesitant steps, she made her way towards the castle's gates, wary looks and outright glares her only companions. Only very few Slytherins dared to come back after everything that had transpired. Too many of her housemates had partaken in the tortures of their fellow students under the guiding hands of the Carrows. Too many had done unspeakable things that made her stomach churn. Daphne could not begrudge a single one of those looks, but they made it difficult to not turn around and flee. Still, she soldiered on. It was the least she could do.

Familiar faces were easy to spot, though none of which she had ever been close to or even exchanged a word with. There was Longbottom, for instance, talking with Abbott. She saw Macmillan and Boot.

Stepping through the gates, she saw the Patil twins, the Gryffindor catching sight of her and openly glaring. The Ravenclaw turned around with obvious confusion, but that quickly changed to unbridled fury upon recognition.

Daphne did her best to appear unaffected, but the dark rings under her eyes and uncontrollably trembling hands were a dead giveaway of her current state of mind. Once she reached the Great Hall, she made her way to the largely empty Slytherin table. Only Bulstrode, Davis and McDougal were present. Pansy, her closest friend, had no chance to show her face again in Hogwarts – in the wizarding public in general if one was honest. None of the boys was there, and the younger years were all absent. Astoria had wanted to help as well, but she was a sickly girl and the stress of the war had made it even worse, so Daphne had ordered her to stay at home and rest.

Looking around, the other tables had a lot more students present. If she had to take a guess, fourth year and upwards.

At least the bodies of the dead had been moved away. She doubted that she could have stood the sight of them again.

Broken, lifeless bodies. Some even brutally mutilated by savage animals – beasts – like Greyback. No, she would not have been able to stand the sight again.

Professor McGonagall walked briskly into the hall, followed by a few more students, Potter, Weasley and that mudbl– no. She shook herself, fisted the material of her robes in her lap, the trembling not easing up.

Not that word. Daphne breathed heavily through her nose. Not that word. Granger. Hermione Granger. She is a witch, like Tori and I. Not that word.

Tears welled in her eyes, burning and threatening to spill, but she willed them away. Stoically, she held her head high as the last volunteers took their places.

"Thank you for all who have decided to come," the new headmistress began, addressing them in her thick, Scottish brogue. "We all do appreciate your willingness to help once more, even if some of you have helped more than enough to last for multiple lifetimes." McGonagall gave Potter a brief, fond look, causing him to look away with a bashful smile. "Allow me to, once again, offer my deepest and most sincere condolences to anyone who has lost family and friends. Know that we, the Hogwarts staff and student body, will stand by you in these most difficult times. No matter what you may need, all you have to do is ask and we will do all within our power to give it to you." She paused for a moment to give everyone time to process her offer. "Those of you who have volunteered with the cleaning and rebuilding of the castle: we have prepared a list of things that need to be done." With a swish of her wand, multiple parchments flew all across the hall and into the hands of the present students.

Daphne snatched hers out of the air, quickly reading through it.

"Feel free to go where you think your skills will find the most use," McGonagall continued. "Lunch will be held at twelve. If there are any questions you may have, please ask the faculty members. Now, let us get to work. Thank you."

The students applauded politely. There was sudden energy and vigour all around her, which Daphne could not help but feel as if it was out of place. She, certainly, did not feel it. Her hands still trembled and her mind was still a mess. Slowly, she got up, however, and looked after the other students. Looking again at the parchment, she figured that she would have to start somewhere, so she just headed out of the Great Hall and into the hallway, weaving her way carefully past the other students, doing her best to avoid them as they did their best to avoid her.

From there, most of everyone was dispersing throughout the castle, some heading up the stairs, some heading outside to the grounds. No one was going to the mostly undamaged dungeons. Daphne just hovered, unsure, feeling out of place and the scrutiny of everyone like millions of pinpricks on her skin.

A few students were already muttering spells to repair the walls in the hallways, bit by bit, stone by stone.

"...still a bit of a shame, mate." That was Weasley. His voice sounded thick and tired as she saw Potter and...Granger exit the Great Hall with a few more redheads from the corner of her eyes.

"I know, but Ginny and I talked about it all night." Potter paused. "It just...it just feels like the right decision. Maybe someday in the future. Right now, this is for the best. It was a mutual decision and we are both happy with it."

"That didn't stop us from sharing one last snog though," another, younger, female voice added, making Potter laugh. It was a short, weak laugh, but it sounded genuine still.

Daphne turned to see the youngest Weasley grin at him, though her face and Potter's sidekick-Weasley's face both looked pale, tired and worn, as did every other redhead present.

Right. One of the Weasley twins had died.

She began rebuilding her portion of the wall, her wand visibly trembling in her hands. They were obviously grieving, like so many. Would it ever be possible for her to get past this? To survive the guilt and shame trying to rend her flesh from her bones? The claws were dug so deep into her very being, after all. It was difficult to even be in the presence of her fellow students. It was difficult to look anyone here in the eyes. She felt like a fraud, a traitor, a coward. As if she didn't belong here. As if she had no place here among those who had actually fought and defended the castle.

"Miss Greengrass?"

Startled, she turned around to see Professor McGonagall standing behind her. "Y-yes, Professor?"

The headmistress took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. "I know of your family's alignment and views. In both wars. I cannot help but be curious about your reasons for being here." Her gaze was sharp and calculating, clearly trying to gauge her for any ulterior motives. "You did not fight with everyone else here and you did not care when Miss Parkinson or Mister Nott were carelessly handing out detentions, despite the rumours about what happened in those detentions."

Those questions were fair. Still, she began to shiver again and her hands were trembling even more violently than before. She felt the curious looks of other students on her. Some were working and looking at the same time, some didn't even bother. They had just blatantly turned around to give her their full attention.

"A wake-up call," she finally answered, her voice low. "All of this...is a wake-up call."

"The consequences of some ideologies only become clear when it happens right in front of you," Professor McGonagall replied heavily. "So many children lost...so many bright futures snuffed out...so many families grieving...so many parents burying their children and so many children orphaned." Daphne nearly jumped when she felt McGonagall's hand on her shoulder. "I wished you had understood what you appear to be understanding now sooner – much sooner – but I am proud of you, Miss Greengrass." The headmistress's stern face softened visibly and her eyes shone with unshed tears. "It is a difficult path you have set foot upon, but I urge you to walk it to its end. It is much more rewarding than what you and your sister have known so far."

She nodded. "Thank you, Professor." As McGonagall was turning to leave, Daphne felt a sudden urge to do something she would never have dared to imagine even in her wildest, most nightmarish dreams, but now, after that brief conversation, it didn't appear so stupid anymore. It appeared more like something she really needed to do. "Professor!" She quickly caught up to McGonagall, who turned around and gave her a curious look.

"Yes, Miss Greengrass?"

"I, uh, I...I was wondering if you could tell me where Potter is." She shrugged awkwardly. "I'd like to talk to him. Not to provoke him or anything, I promise."

"Very well. He is outside, cleaning the grounds."

"Thank you."

She quickly made her way outside under the curious glares of her fellow students and looked around. It didn't take long for her to find him; of course, the – Granger and the Weasleys were with him. That made it more difficult, but not impossible. As she was walking towards them, it didn't take long for her to gain their attention. Everyone, especially the youngest Weasley, was on guard, stopping her dead in her tracks. She looked at them, they looked at her.

Slowly, Daphne walked closer and stopped after a few more steps. There was still a reasonable distance between them, but that was perfectly fine. There would be no awkwardness or discomfort this way...at least not more than there already was.

"Greengrass." Potter was the one speaking up first. Of course, it was him.

"I'd...like to talk to you." She glanced at the others, the trembling in her hands relentless since this morning.

"Well, I'm here."

"In private."

"Fat chance of that," the sidekick-Weasley said with a scoff.

"It's fine," Potter said, waving the concerns of the others off. "There's plenty of open space. If anything happens, you guys will see it."

The Weasley girl rolled her eyes. "Right. We'll have all the time to help you when she kills you because we saw it from fifty metres away."

Daphne hated to admit it, but she rather liked the Weasley girl's sarcasm. It was pretty much on point. Potter appeared to enjoy it as well, if his chuckle was any indicator.

"I just want to talk. If I wanted to kill him I would have hardly announced myself. Don't be stupid." She then turned to Potter. "Please?"

While his friends gave her incredulous looks, Potter appeared to be trying to smother his amusement. He indicated a spot away from most of the student body, a place of privacy as far as privacy went in the vast and open grounds of Hogwarts. They walked side by side for a while, still with reasonable distance between them. Once they stopped, he turned to face her, his arms crossed over his chest.

"So? What is it?"

Daphne opened her mouth to speak, but her brain froze for a moment. A shiver went through her again and the palms of her hands felt clammy and slick with sweat. She glanced down at the lush, green grass beneath her feet, still shining with morning dew. Taking a shaky breath, she released it just as shakily. She then looked back up, Potter gazing at her with a raised brow and seemingly eternal patience, which was odd. She had witnessed his snark and explosive temper more than once in classrooms after all.

"I'm sorry," she finally blurted out, her voice suddenly thick and her vision blurring with tears once more, but again she willed them away. "I'm so sorry for everything."

Potter blinked at her with obvious confusion. He had cleaned up in the past two days, she noticed. When she had seen him during the cease-fire his clothes had been a mess, his face dirty and sweaty and a full, rough, thick stubble had covered most of it. His hair had been long and visibly oily. He must've been through a terrible ordeal, this past year, but he had saved them all in the end. Despite everything, he had come through and saved them – her and her family included, with all their bigotry and pureblood values.

"What do you mean?" Potter asked her, not hiding his curiosity.

"I – I may not have handed out detentions or even tortured others, but I laughed with Pansy!" she admitted hoarsely. "I laughed when she told me that a third-year mud– muggle-born!" She took another shaky breath. "Muggle-born," she repeated softly. "I laughed when Pansy told me that Puff started crying after getting detention." This time she couldn't stop her tears. She couldn't will them away anymore and her stomach churned again when she was just thinking and remembering. "I never cared about what happened. I joked with Pansy and bullied them! I feel disgusting..." She faltered. "I never...I never realized...that...this…"

"That...actually means a lot, you know."

Daphne wiped the tears from her eyes and cheeks with the sleeve of her robes and looked at him. "It does?" If she was honest, her own words rang hollow to her. Now that the war was over – a war to feed the ideology she grew up with, she had shared until a couple of days ago – what good was her apology now? The dead were dead. The bereaved would care little for her words.

He shrugged with his hands in his muggle-bottom's pockets. "You are either an incredible actress or you are being honest." He chuckled without humour. "I'm too tired to be suspicious, so...I'd rather give you the benefit of the doubt." His gaze then turned frosty. "I know that you likely wouldn't have stood here to apologize if the war would have gone the other way, but –"

"They killed my father," she suddenly said, making Potter's eyebrows vanish beneath his messy fringe. "He wouldn't take the Mark – he supported them, yes, but he didn't want the Mark when they visited and offered it, and he called them idiots, or so our house elf told me – so they killed him. They also took my mother and we haven't seen her since. She just disappeared."

"We?"

"My little sister Astoria. She's two years younger than me."

Potter nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry."

"We had a loving family." Her chin trembled. "Yes, I understand now that – that our views were wrong...abhorrent even, but we still had a loving family. They destroyed it because my father wouldn't take that blasted Mark." She wiped more stray tears from her cheeks. "So, no. Even if this war would have gone our way, I still would have switched sides and taken Tori with me. This war...was a wake-up call like no other."

"A wake-up call you shouldn't have needed."

"I know."

"But that's how you grew up, with all the lies and bigotry you were fed."

She shrugged. "I'm sorry. I mean it. For everything I ever said or did to you."

"Did you ever do anything?" he asked with furrowed brows.

"More than I care to admit. I just was more subtle than Draco and Pansy."

Potter gave a tired sigh. "You promise you haven't tortured any students in the past year? You promise you didn't give them detention despite knowing that they would be tortured?"

"Yes!" She nodded her head vehemently. "I swear, I was not part of either of those groups. Pansy didn't know anything about the torture either. They were just rumours. They were just supposed to be rumours. She threw up when she was told what really happened. She's mean, but not sadistic."

"Same as you then."

Daphne winced at that, but it was fair. "Y-yes…"

Potter took a few small steps towards her, closing a little bit of distance between them and held out a hand. "For what it's worth, I appreciate you doing this. You know, coming here, helping us, admitting everything you've just admitted – it's brave of you. So...thank you."

She allowed herself a small smile as she took his hand with her own clammy one. A quick handshake was enough to ease a lot of the weight on her mind.

It certainly was more than she had expected after making her decision to help with the cleaning and repairs of Hogwarts.