AN: Okay, so I'd first off like to say thank you to alpha_alieria for betaing this entire story and the latest chapter. You've been amazing and really helpful, so think deserve a shout-out! Also, would like to thank everyone for helping this story to getting over 1000 follows and over 200 reviews! It's really appreciated and I'm just glad that you're all enjoying the story. I apologise for how late this update was but it: a) took me ages to get it right, and b) work has pretty much taken over my life. So sorry for that, but I hope you enjoy!


Chapter Eleven: Cause and Effect

Perhaps unsurprisingly the news that Harry Potter had been the date of Daphne Greengrass to her sister's wedding didn't stay private for long. In fact, it only took a day for Daily Prophet to have an article written and published. They even had photographs. So much for privacy. At least there were no pictures from the actual wedding, all the articles had managed to find were photos of Daphne at other functions. Although, Daphne was sure that it would only be a matter of time until that changed. Someone was bound to sell. Somebody always did. Everyone had their price, usually a sack full of galleons.

"Someone's grumpy," Daphne's father said by way of a greeting as he entered the kitchen. He had a ridiculously large grin on his face, probably due to the fact that there were no longer any more Malfoys clogging up his home. Neither her father nor the gigantic grin did much to improve Daphne's mood. She hated publicity. There was a reason she was an unspeakable. No one bothered her, ever. She could just happily get on with her work, go home and occasionally attend the odd boring function and listen to the same dull morons. That was how her life had always been. At least, until she had met Harry. He had not been boring or idiotic or selfish or arrogant. He had something new, something she hadn't expected. But the problem with the unexpected was that it often caused change. Most of the changes in Daphne's life since that ball had been good, but this definitely did not fall under the heading of 'good'.

"You would be too if your face was all over the paper," Daphne pointed out glowering at the morning edition.

"At least it's a nice picture," her father commented when he walked past the newspaper on the counter where Daphne had abandoned it. She hadn't even begun to read it. But the more she looked at it, the more that Daphne realised it would only be a matter of time until she did actually read the stupid paper. Tracey would've read it, Astoria too, there was no way she was going into either of those conversations unprepared.

"It's still on the front page," Daphne seethed, "is there seriously nothing else more important going on in the world?"

"Evidentially not," Daphne's father said as he picked up an apple from the counter and started to munch on it happily. "How bad is it? Are you the latest in a long line of admirers fallen hopelessly in love with the charms of a hero? Or are they going for: 'Harry Potter: Lover or Victim?' You could be part of a love potion scandal."

"I'm offended that you think I'd need to stoop to a love potion," Daphne said as she drew her wand, with a quick flick of her wrist the newspaper flew towards her. The ridiculous theories that her father had spouted were not, by the Prophet's standards, that implausible. They had a habit of blowing up any story, especially ever since Romilda Vane had taken over the articles which had previously been so lovingly written by Rita Skeeter. Unfortunately, Vane had the same gossip-obsessed writing style which Skeeter had used to such good effect for years. Out with the old, in with the new.

"You know I don't, that Vane woman might though. She's a nasty piece of work, Daph."

"A nasty piece of work obsessed with anything Harry related," Daphne corrected. "Remember that six page spread she did just because there were pictures of him at Quidditch?"

"That was a little much," Daphne's father agreed after a particularly loud crunch of his apple.

Daphne nodded, but didn't add anything to the conversation. Her attention had been drawn by the paper that she now held in her hand and the article that took up the majority of the front page:

True Love or Reckless Rebound?

It is no secret that after the devastating break-up with long-time fiancée Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter has been in emotional turmoil. Yet, despite the fact that only a few months have passed since the that tragic affair, it appears that Harry is already prepared to put the past behind him and find love in another's arms with none other than Lady Daphne Greengrass, 25. There have already been numerous reports of the two attending the wedding of Draco and Astoria Malfoy together. Is this, perhaps, their official declaration to the Wizarding World that they are an item?

Not only did Harry attend the Malfoy's wedding with Lady Greengrass on his arm, but they also shared what has been described by some as an 'intimate' dance during the reception. Surely this cannot be a simple friendship? Recently, Harry was seen attending a Ministry function with his close friend Hermione Granger. Yet, on this occasion, there were no such reports of displays of affection between the two, which suggests that Harry's relationship with Lady Greengrass is a little more personal than his friendship with Miss Granger. Reports from attendees of both occasions also indicate that this ball was where Harry's new relationship first blossomed as he was seen leaving with Lady Greengrass after the now infamous confrontation with Miss Weasley. Perhaps Lady Greengrass saw an opportunity that night to take advantage after witnessing Harry's tragic breakup and it is only that this opportunism has borne fruit.

All of this begs the question: Who exactly is Daphne Greengrass? Despite her esteemed position as Lady Greengrass, Daphne works as an unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. In addition, during her time at Hogwarts – in which she and Harry were in the same year – Lady Greengrass was a Slytherin. The rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin is legendary, and it is one which extends far beyond the walls of Hogwarts. Therefore, to say that this new relationship is unlikely is an understatement. If Harry was looking for something different than his relationship with Miss Weasley, he could not have found a better woman than Lady Greengrass.

But is this dramatic change necessarily a step in the right direction for Harry? From his perspective, heart-broken and betrayed by the woman he loved and was set to marry, it may feel that way. Yet, there are those close to Lady Greengrass who feel that Harry's heart has led him down the wrong path. Lady Narcissa Malfoy, mother of Lord Draco Malfoy who is now the brother-in-law of Lady Greengrass, gives a less than positive impression of Lady Greengrass. According to Lady Malfoy her son's marriage to Astoria Greengrass was constantly under threat from Astoria's sister who attempted to: 'manipulate Astoria for months, all because she never liked Draco. She even tried to ruin his day by bringing Potter to the wedding. I've never met anyone more selfish.' Harry and Lord Malfoy have, since their Hogwarts days, constantly been at odds, a fact that Lady Greengrass appears to have used to her advantage. Is this the kind of woman that Harry Potter should be seeing?

Friends and fans of Harry Potter will surely be hoping, as I do, that this is either a necessary phase to cope with a lost love and that Harry has not fallen for the charms of a witch who appears to be less than deserving of his devotion.

For more on Harry Potter's latest love affair turn to pages 2, 3 and 4.

"Well," Daphne said as she threw the paper back onto the counter, "the good news is I'm not part of a love potion scandal."

"That is always good news," her father agreed with a small nod.

"Bad news: Romilda Vane hates me and has decided to paint me as a manipulative, self-absorbed user who is only out to abuse Harry's trust and 'devotion'" Daphne told him, air-miming quotation marks as she added the word 'devotion'. "Oh, and Narcissa told them that I tried to sabotage Tori's wedding."

"She did what?"

"It's as bad as it sounds, apparently I only came with Harry just to upset poor darling Draco after I spent months trying to manipulate Tori into not marrying him."

"I swear that woman isn't happy unless she's insulting someone," Daphne's father remarked, his good humour vanishing in the face of Narcissa's hostility. It wasn't fully undeserved, Daphne was aware of that, but this was a step too far and one which was clearly motivated by the fact that Narcissa had lost in her bid to try and prevent her son from marrying a woman she deemed beneath him. That, and she hated Daphne, a feeling which was most definitely mutual.

"I don't think she got enough hugs as a child," Daphne mused still glowering with resentment at the newspaper. It wasn't that she cared what people thought or anything, if she did then she would have started living the pureblood princess lifestyle a long time ago. What annoyed Daphne was the fact that the article took a little bit of her life out of her own hands. Whether she was bothered by what people thought of her or not didn't matter, it was going to be a lot more difficult living life whilst constantly being judged by a vast array of different people. She was starting to understand why, when the press had turned on him, Harry had started spending more time in the muggle world.

"You have no idea how right you are," Daphne's father told her, "I've met her parents. They were not exactly what you'd call friendly."

"That explains a lot," Daphne said with a slight twinge of sympathy for the Malfoy matriarch. Growing up a Black wouldn't have been easy for anyone and often ended with conformity to their worldly views. That, or a complete break from the mold. Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy had gone down the conformity route. But Andromeda Tonks had reacted completely differently to the Black version of parenting, and instead of spouting the age old line of 'pureblood supremacy' had married a muggle-born. It hadn't taken long for Daphne to decide which reaction she preferred.

"And how about you?" Daphne's father asked seriously. "Are you okay with all this?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. A little infamy never hurt anyone." Daphne lied. She didn't like lying to her father, but there were some things that she couldn't share with him. The truth was that she hated being in newspapers and magazines, her private life should stay that way. She hated being out of control. But there was no chance Daphne was going to tell her father that. He worried about her enough as it was.

"That's the spirit, rise above it." Daphne's father said a smile returning to his lips. "How do you reckon Harry's going to take it?"

"Not too great, but he won't see it for a while, he doesn't really read the papers anymore."

"I can't really say that I blame him, anyone would be put off after what they've put him through." Daphne's father said sympathetically. "Mind you, he managed to endure Draco's wedding without duelling him so, you never know, maybe he'll surprise you. He might even be flattered."

"Are you seriously jumping on that bandwagon?" Daphne asked exasperatedly. Was it so implausible that a woman and a man could be friends? "Honestly, you're as bad as Tracey."

"I'm not jumping on anything, I just want you to be happy, that's all." Her father said sincerely. It was something about him which Daphne both loved and yet at the same got immensely annoyed by all at the same time. She was a grown woman for Merlin's sake, she could deal with her own life and her own problems. But Daphne's father never quite managed to grasp that particular concept and as a result still viewed her as the little girl that needed protecting. But Daphne wasn't a little girl anymore, and while his concern was touching, it was also rather frustrating at the same time.

"I don't need a boyfriend to be happy, dad. I like my life the way it is."

"I'm not saying that you do, I just don't see the point of denying yourself someone just because you don't 'need' them. You're an independent woman, and that's great. But honestly Daph, I don't think I've seen you have that much fun at a family occasion since you were little."

"So, I'm not allowed to have fun now?" Daphne countered a little more tersely than she had intended. But she was starting to get a little sick of all the Harry jokes her sister and Tracey had been teasing her with for the past few weeks. It was starting to feel as if she wasn't allowed to have a male friend. First them, then the Prophet and now her father.

"Not when our family is here no, generally you hate the entire evening."

"That's because they're annoying," Daphne argued.

"No, it's because they weren't there," Daphne's father said calmly, his voice quiet and sincere. Their eyes met for a moment and as much as Daphne wanted to deny it and go on pretending that it was because her family were morons or had bad personal habits, she couldn't. There were only so many lies and jokes that she could that would cover up the actual reason she loathed her family. It wasn't out of frustration or petty mindedness, the truth was that they never once been there. Even when Daphne had needed them most. As far as she was concerned, the only family that she had were those that lived under her roof. The rest, they meant as much to Daphne as strangers on the street. They only ever turned up if there was a party to be had, food to be eaten and alcohol to be consumed. That wasn't what a family should be, a bunch of party guests to bump up the numbers. But they had had their chance, Daphne wasn't ever going to give them another.

"They've never really made much of an effort your entire life, so I get why you don't bother with them now." Daphne's father continued as Daphne stared sullenly at the counter, her memories crashing over her. "But, that's not what I'm getting at. You actually had fun, Daph and it wasn't because of me, or Tracey or your sister. The only reason you enjoyed yourself was because Harry was there."

"Yeah, because he's my friend," Daphne said exasperatedly, dragging herself back from a past that she didn't want to remember.

"A friend who you constantly go on lunch dates with, a friend who you've seen more than Tracey over the last few months."

"She's always at work," Daphne objected.

"He puts a smile on your face all the time," her father continued.

"So does Trace, and playing the piano and watching you fail at cooking. Doesn't mean that I'm in love with any of those things."

"It is pretty funny when I try do that," Daphne's father agreed a small, wistful smile on his face. There was a small moment of happy recollection before her father's face went serious again, his smile fading a little as he looked at his daughter. "I know that you probably think I'm trying to interfere. But, I'm only looking out for you, okay?"

"I know," Daphne told him gently, her anger rapidly fading as she looked at her father. All he had ever done was his best by her, which was far more than she had seen other people's parents do for them. While all the other Slytherins in her dormitory had bemoaned their fathers for being insensitive or stupid for treating them like children, Daphne had never once wished, like they had, that anyone else could be her father. He was the best she could ever have wished for, there was no denying that. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise, I get it. It's your life and you can live it how you want. Just do me a favour, and take some advice for your old man. Don't deny yourself a chance at happiness for the wrong reasons. I've seen people do it and they've always regretted it, sometimes for their whole lives. If he's just your friend, and that's all you want, fine. But if there is something more then don't ignore it. He's a good man, you could do a lot worse."

"You met him for five minutes," Daphne pointed out, partly in an attempt to distract her father from the topic of her alleged attraction towards Harry. It wasn't a conversation she was overly comfortable having with most people, let alone her father. There was nothing going on, Daphne told herself, so why was it so difficult for him to see it?

"But you're forgetting I'm friends with his boss. Do you really think I'd have let you bring him without checking him out first? I might be retired but I was still an auror once."

"And apparently completely paranoid too," Daphne smirked.

"It comes with the territory, you don't seriously think Moody was the only one?" Daphne's father grinned before adding, "Seriously though, Daph, life's too short and it never gives you second chances. Just think about it, okay?"

"We're just friends, dad," Daphne assured him feeling like a broken record as she did so. There were so many times she could deny that anything was going on before it became slightly exhausting. But there wasn't anything there. Daphne hadn't been lying, she liked her life just as it was and that included Harry. He had rapidly become an important part of her life, something which Daphne had neither asked for nor expected. But it had happened nonetheless. So why did people feel the need for there to be more?

Tracey, Astoria, her father, all of them in their own way continually tried to make Daphne see her friendship with Harry their way, as something which would blossom to be more. Why? Wasn't friendship enough? It was something Daphne was beginning to cherish, as she slowly became more comfortable around him, trusted him. She knew that Harry felt the same. He had opened up to her on more than one occasion, which for a man like Harry was more than a little special. Surely that was enough?

"So long as you're sure," Daphne's father said.

"I am," Daphne nodded. "Anyway, I'd better get to work. Try not to have too much fun without me."

"I won't, I promise. Have a good day, sweetheart." Her father smiled warmly as he reached for the newspaper again, flipping straight to the back for the Quidditch scores. Internally Daphne smirked, her father was not a typical man in many ways, but both his way of reading the paper and his obsession with Quidditch were his exceptions.

"You too," Daphne smiled before giving a small wave and heading out of the kitchen. Her exit was a little more rushed than she would have liked, but thanks to the impromptu heart-to-heart with her father Daphne was running a little late. Not that she minded, a sentiment that she knew would not be by Luidhard. The aged wizard had an almost worrying devotion to schedule. Years trapped underground with the Hall of Prophecies had not served him well.

The only reason he was still in charge of the day-to-day running of Daphne's section of the Department of Mysteries was because of seniority. He had been one of the only unspeakables to survive Voldemort's reign at the Ministry. It wasn't public knowledge, unlike the decimation of the auror ranks. But when Voldemort's forces had taken over the Minsitry one of their first priorities had been attempting to learn the secrets kept within the Department of Mysteries. The result had been fairly brutal. Most of the half-bloods had been rounded up as suspected muggleborns, unable to prove that they had to pure-blood parents. The rest had either been forced out or, like Luidhard, clung to their jobs and done their best to undermine Voldemort's minions from the inside. It had been an effective tactic, mainly because none of his lackeys knew what they were expecting to find in the Department of Mysteries and, as a result, had no clue when they were being lied to and when they weren't.

But it had been a tactic which had only worked for so long, and ultimately the fate of the Department of Mysteries had taken an especially violent turn. Unable to hide their research any longer the remaining unspeakables had destroyed much of their work to prevent the Death Eaters from getting to it. The only reason they were still breathing was because their little stunt came the day before the Battle of Hogwarts. The rest, as they said, was history. The years after Voldemort's coup had been spent trying desperately to restore the work that they had lost, which part of the reason that Daphne's work on time-turners had taken so long to get started. There had simply been more important projects which had taken priority. Time-turners could be bought, the research of the unspeakables could not.

The Ministry was as packed as usual by the time that Daphne had arrived. This was her least favourite part of the day as it was, as forcing her way through a crowd was something Daphne despised almost as much as floo travel. She wasn't very good with tight spaces. They made her want to lash out for no reason. The logical part of her mind could not understand why they had that effect on her. But that was practically the definition of an irrational fear.

But for the first time since she had started at the Ministry, Daphne actually managed to make it through the crowd of workers with ease. Her new-found reputation caused people to step back and stare. Whispers and murmurs followed her the entire way to the lift and none of them were good. Daphne caught snippets such as: 'Who does she think she is?', 'What's Potter thinking?' and 'she's not even that pretty'. Daphne couldn't shake the sense that, as she got into the lift with a couple of secretaries she had seen around once or twice, this was going to be a long day.

The trip down to the Department of Mysteries was, thankfully, without incident. Whenever the lift stopped most of the people who had been queuing to get in hesitated when they saw Daphne, as if scared that the stuff Vane had said about her was somehow contagious. At least it meant she got some peace. No matter how secure she was in herself it still wasn't fun to hear all the things that people were saying about her.

"You're late," Luidhard informed Daphne when she arrived at her desk a few minutes later.

"I got held up," Daphne explained as she threw herself down into her chair. Due to the varying nature of their work each unspeakable had their own separate offices just off of the Hall of Mysteries itself. As a result each office was exceptionally different from one another. Daphne had lined one wall of hers with rows of bookcases, each filled to bursting point with books she had collected both through work and from home over the course of the last few years. A small collection of blackboards of varying sizes stood behind her desk, each of them filled with calculations and some containing sketches of the new designs she had been trying for her time-turners.

"Make sure that it doesn't happen again," Luidhard said a glower in eyes and a curl of his lips. "There are rules for a reason, Greengrass. Speaking of which...you are aware that funding for your little 'experiments'" his thin, pale hand waved dismissively at the collection of dismantled time-turners on Daphne's desk. "Is running low. If I don't have results soon -"

"You'll try and scrap the project, I know, you've said before." Daphne finished curtly as she pulled the mounted magnifying glass towards her so that it stood above the tiny pieces of deconstructed time-turner. It was fiddly work which, Daphne had discovered was best done mainly by hand. Using her wand to levitate the pieces had gotten far too complicated. Instead she now just used her wand to fuse the pieces together when she needed to.

"You're on your last chance, Greengrass," Luidhard continued in his best attempt at a threatening manner. Daphne merely arched an eyebrow, not even bothering to look up as she started to begin her work for the day. Any other day and she might have attempted to be slightly more friendly, but this was not any other day. Enduring an entirely awkward ten minute journey, which Daphne wasn't stupid enough to believe would be an isolated incident, was enough to ensure that her mood had spiralled well past ordinary.

Luidhard huffed and stalked away, muttering angrily to himself as he did so. There was going to be repercussions, but in that moment Daphne didn't care. All she wanted to do was be left alone to do her work. Her wish managed to come true for the majority of the morning, not that it did her any good. Daphne was still getting nowhere with her work; if anything the modifications she had made had only sent her backwards and not in the way in which she wanted them to. The difficult part wasn't restoring them to their intended function, Daphne had managed that weeks ago. The problems lay in expanding the range, both forwards and backwards.

The only thing that could improve Daphne's mood as she leafed bad-temperedly through Jean-Luc Baderre's: Theoretical Time-Travel: Paradoxes and Possibilities was that she was only a few minutes from lunch. Time with Harry in the muggle world was precisely what she needed. In fact, Daphne was just about to give up finding any answers in Baderre's book and set out when she was interrupted by an abrupt knocking on the door. The knocker didn't bother to wait for Daphne to let him in, instead he just walked into her office. Peter Miller had never quite managed to grasp boundaries, or social interaction in general for that matter.

"Busy?" he asked although it wasn't really a question, rather it was his attempt at politeness. Miller stood there for a long moment, waiting for Daphne to reply. His fingers beat an erratic rhythm against one another as he did so. Even by the standards of many unspeakables Miller was considered odd. He constantly ditched his robes whenever he arrived at work, preferring to wear muggle garments claiming they were more comfortable. He was a half-blood and as a result had been exposed to more of the muggle world than Daphne had been growing up. It was clear just to look at him that he preferred the style of that world. Clad in a red t-shirt, black waistcoat with a pinstriped back and jeans, Miller would have blended almost seamlessly into any street in London. Black ink even crawled up his arm, although unlike muggle tattoos, Miller had charmed his to move. The tribal design on his wrist, which Daphne knew covered up a deep scar, swirled and twisted as he stood there, reflecting the impatient nature of the man who stood in Daphne's doorway.

"Excellent," Miller continued when Daphne had closed her book with a slightly resigned sigh.

"What do you want?" Daphne asked exasperatedly.

"I came to offer my… sympathies." At Daphne's blank look he continued, "the article."

"Thank you," Daphne said once her brain had caught up with what was happening. She had never known Miller be anything that could be described as nice - he could be deemed infuriating, self-absorbed, egotistical and abrasive - but never nice. "But I've been called worse."

"I wasn't referring to the baseless slander," Miller explained, a frown creasing his brow. He had gone strangely still, even his fingers had ceased their erratic tapping. "Although, I imagine that in some cases it could cause distress."

"Then what are you talking about?" Daphne asked setting down the book on her desk, dread gripping the pit of her stomach. What had Vane written in that article?

"How much did you actually read?" Miller probed with a delicacy that Daphne was entirely unprepared for. Over the years she had gained a slight repartee with Miller, probably based on the fact that she was one of the few unspeakables that he didn't actively dislike. But never in all that time had he been delicate. Rude and ignorant, definitely, with only the occasional signs that he actually didn't despise her. For Miller remembering Daphne's name had been a big step. He had then taken to referring to almost everyone else as: 'Not Greengrass'. But she had never expected him to be so… nice.

"Just the front page, but it was just more of the same, those things always are."

"While that assumption is indeed usually correct, in this instance it is not. I rarely read the Prophet myself but I overheard the others talking about it and It appears that instead, Vane continued with a background piece." Daphne felt the colour from her face drain, the look on Miller's pinched face could mean only one thing. She was dimly aware of Miller drawing his wand from his back pocket as her brain raced, trying desperately to think of something, anything else that it could be. But there was nothing.

"I know that you enjoy your privacy, and therefore I believed that you might want to be made aware of what Vane wrote." Miller said as he threw down a copy of the Prophet onto her desk. "While I am aware that it was a long time ago, but you have never mentioned it. Not once in the one thousand, two hundred and thirty six days I have known you. I felt, therefore, perhaps it was… difficult for you. I have suffered a similar fate myself, a fact I seldom share with others. It wasn't much of a leap to realise that you do the same. However, Vane has made has made that rather impossible for you now. I felt that you should be aware. Ignorance is never bliss. It simply makes the realisation of what transpired worse. I would not wish that on you."

Her reverie was broken as a copy of the Prophet was thrown onto her desk. She saw her own face look up at her but tore feverishly past that. The second page was more of the same but it was the third page in which the article took a dramatic change of pace, moving the focus from Daphne to her family. Astoria was first, then her father and finally taking up an entire column was what she had been dreading. Underneath all the words which Daphne couldn't bring herself to read was a small photograph. It didn't do her justice. No picture ever could.

"They shouldn't have printed this," Daphne heard herself say as she continued to stare at the photograph. Her sadness was rapidly being overtaken by a righteous sense of anger. They had no right. It was her life. If she had wanted everyone to know, to remind her of that part of her life, then she would have told them. But she hadn't. Instead Daphne had buried it deep inside her for longer than she cared to remember. It should have stayed that way. The past was the past, there wasn't a thing she could do to change it, no matter how much she might have preferred it to. But she couldn't, she had grown to accept that much, not that it made it any easier. All Daphne had ever been able to do was bury it, because the alternative was all too painful.

"Since when do the Prophet actually print what they should?" Miller asked with a hint of sympathy in his voice.

But Daphne wasn't paying any attention. She dimly aware of getting to her feet, but her mind wasn't focused on what her body had planned. All Daphne could focus on was the memories that she had thought she had long since put aside. Memories of a time long since gone. Something warm trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away furiously, blinking back the rest as she headed out of the office. She couldn't stay there. Daphne had no clue where she was going, but in that moment she didn't really care. All she wanted to do was leave. She needed to leave. She couldn't stay there, she couldn't think straight. The floodgates had opened.

Every memory, every thought, every lost hope and dream that she had pushed down was surging through her. Her stomach twisted, her heart pounded as blood thundered in her eyes. It took everything Daphne had to stem the flow of tears that wanted to cascade down her cheeks. The woman she had become had vanished in an instant, and the lost girl she had been took her place.

Daphne wasn't sure how long she had been walking or even where her feet had taken her. Her solitude was only broken by the sound of her name, quiet at first, then louder. She turned, slowly becoming aware of the air that gently played with her hair. Somewhere a car horn blasted. Sunlight streamed into her eyes as Daphne looked up into the clearly concerned face of none other than Harry Potter. It took her a moment to realise where she was, standing outside the small restaurant which Harry had picked out for lunch.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked gently closing the gap between them a little. His green eyes flitted back and forth, examining her face. People bustled past them, desperately rushing about as muggles in London always seemed to. But neither Harry nor Daphne made them much attention, both were blinded to everything by the other.

"Not really," Daphne replied honestly, there was no way that she could really deny it. A few stray tear tracks stained her cheeks and all the colour had drained from her face. But she wouldn't have lied to him even if she could have. He was one of the few people she trusted, one of the only people she felt comfortable enough to share how she felt with. The pain that was ripping through and tearing out her heart was something which she would usually have tried to keep secret. But not with Harry.

"C'mon, let's get out of here. Talk about it back at mine?" Harry asked softly.

Daphne nodded, aware that they were slowly starting cause a miniature spectacle for those who had nothing better to do. She felt his hand wrap around hers, giving it a gentle squeeze as he led her way, taking them down a smaller and quieter side street away from prying eyes. As soon as they were clear from view Daphne felt the all too familiar and uncomfortable sensation of apparition. The London street vanished and the large black door of Grimmauld Place replaced it in an instant.

"So, what's up?" Harry said as soon as they had crossed the threshold and the door had shut out the rest of the world behind them.

"You haven't seen the paper today, have you?" Daphne tried on the off chance as they headed deeper into the house, hoping that she would spared explaining at least some of the details. But it was a slim hope and one which was crushed as Harry shook his head, a frown knitting his brows. "They, well they did a piece on us, usual rubbish. Except, not all of it was."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked clearly confused as he banished the gloom with one flick of his wand. The sudden burst of light from the various candles that lined the hallway caused Daphne to squint for a moment as the house was thrown into sharp relief.

"There are some things I haven't told you. A lot really. I just, I don't like to talk about it." Daphne explained. His eyes met hers, but he didn't say anything, instead he just waited. They had come to a stop at the foot of the stairs. Daphne sank down, casting her eyes to the floor as she took a seat on the stairs.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the wave of emotion that threatened to overcome her. Part of her wanted to remain silent, just carry on staring and let the world carry on moving around her. It was a stupid part, the part of her that was scared to face up to the consequences. Daphne let her eyes flit to Harry, only for a moment, checking he was still there. It was a fear that had clung to Daphne ever since that day, and one that no matter how hard she tried she couldn't shake. But Harry didn't move. He just stood there, steady and resolute in the silence.

"My mum's dead," Daphne told him bluntly, painfully aware of the waver in her voice and the tears that were making her vision swim. "She died when I was a kid. We'd just started Hogwarts. I'd never have gone if I'd known what was coming. But I wasn't there, I didn't see her. I never even got a chance to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry," Harry said joining her on the step. Daphne felt his arm go around her, pulling her close. She didn't fight it, instead she just let her head rest on his shoulder.

"It's alright," Daphne muttered, sniffing a little as she wiped at her eyes. "Why do people say that: it's alright? Even though it really isn't. She was my mum and she could've done so much more. I mean she was brilliant, she was… amazing. She could've done anything, you know? She shouldn't have gone like that. It wasn't fair. You see so many people just waste their lives, how come they get on living while she doesn't? Why them? Why not her? Why did it have to be my mum?"

Tears cascaded down her cheeks, but Daphne didn't care. She probably looked pathetic, stupid even. But ever since it had happened Daphne had forced herself to be responsible, her father had been hard pressed to look after himself, never mind Astoria. During the weeks after her mother's death, Daphne had spent almost all of her time looking after Astoria, making sure that she had everything she needed until Daphne had been forced to return to school. What Daphne needed had gone out of the window, a sacrifice she had been more than willing to make. She had just closed herself off from it, tried her best to get past it. Move on. After a while, it had become impossible to stop.

They sat there in silence for a long moment, Harry's hand gently rubbing her shoulder, a little awkwardly at first. But the longer they sat there, the less awkward he became. He didn't say anything, instead he just let her get it out. The years of sadness tinged with guilt that Daphne had spent refusing to face up to her past had crashed over her unexpected, unwanted and without mercy. All the pain that she had bottled up inside her, the sorrow that had molded, came spilling out with the hot tears that had made tracks down her cheeks.

"I don't know why, Daph," Harry said softly, his voice tender as he broke the silence between them. The flood of tears and raw emotion that had overwhelmed Daphne had somewhat stemmed as she leant against Harry. He had waited for her to finish, to get it all out. They could have been sitting there for five minutes, or fifteen, or even an hour. Daphne wasn't sure. "And you're right, it's not fair. None of it is. But you've still got your dad, right, and Astoria and Tracey and me. We're not going anywhere. I'm not. I promise."

"Thank you," Daphne said her voice barely above a whisper as she gave him a watery smile. Somehow 'thank you' couldn't quite do justice to just to what Daphne was feeling in that moment. He was one of the only men in her life that she had ever let get close to her. For that matter, over the years Daphne had rarely let anyone get close to her. Tracey was the only exception, partly because she had been there and seen what had happened, but also because Tracey was exceptionally loyal and refused to give up on her friends. Daphne had always suspected her friend would be better suited in Hufflepuff than Slytherin, but was exceptionally glad that the hat hadn't put her there.

"You don't have to thank me. I'm your friend, remember?"

"Here was me thinking we were complete strangers," Daphne joked. It was an old tactic, deflection through jokes or sarcastic comments, and one she knew all too well. It was an excellent survival skill and a terrible habit.

"Sorry to disappoint," Harry smiled before adding, "What was she like?"

"Sorry?" Daphne asked startled and completely taken off-guard by the sudden change of tact.

"Your mum, what was she like? I mean, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, I get it. Really. But I just thought it might help." Harry said quickly, his voice a mixture of panic and understanding.

Daphne sat there, contemplating his words. If there was anyone who could understand how she felt it was him. Of course he would. Harry had been forced to go through his life without anyone, no parents, no family. All he had were his friends. For all the pain that Daphne had suffered she couldn't imagine what Harry must have felt. A part of her felt stupid, selfish for laying all her trouble on the man who had endured far worse than she could ever have imagined.

"No, it's fine, I get that." Daphne assured him when she realised she hadn't said anything. Maybe he was right, maybe it would help. Daphne had never thought of it like that. Faced with the prospect of even thinking about her mother she ran, had gone on running all her life and used whatever excuse she could. Astoria. Her father. That's all they were, excuses. The only reason Daphne had never faced up to it was because she had been scared it would hurt too much. But hadn't he done the same? Hadn't he run from Ginny and all that pain and torment? And hadn't the only thing that had helped him come out the other side been Eliza? He never talked about his sessions with her, but Daphne had seen the miracles that woman had worked on Harry. What was to say talking wouldn't help Daphne? There were few people she would rather tell.

"I think you'd have liked her," Daphne began staring at the floor as she did so, picturing the woman that had meant so much to her and always would. "She was amazing, smart, and funny. I mean, she could be a little bit too soft on us sometimes too. Dad had to be the one to lay the law down when got home. Not that he was ever any good at it."

"I can't imagine he would be," Harry said a smile in his voice. "He didn't really seem the type."

"He really isn't, I mean he'd try and make himself all stern and professional, but mum would just laugh at him. Kind of ruined the effect, really. They were never any good at that stuff. We probably ran them a bit wild, to be honest. But they didn't never complained or anything. It was great. I never thought it'd be over and then it just… was. I mean you hear about that kind of thing, but I never even imagined it'd happen to us. It's just always something that happened to other people, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded sadly.

"It wasn't even as if there was anything we could've done," Daphne continued, "They never spotted it, I mean she'd had headaches and stuff but all the potions they gave her just dulled the pain so much that we didn't even notice it get worse."

"What was it?"

"Brain tumour," Daphne answered, knowing that she wouldn't need to say anything else. Harry knew exactly what those words meant, unlike almost everyone else that knew the story. Everyone had needed it explaining to them. Friends, family, none of them had known when it had happened. That had been one of the worst parts, explaining it over and over again. Unlike muggles, purebloods knew nothing about it. If anything they had viewed it as wrong for a woman of 'her standing' to die in such a way. That had always disgusted Daphne, the arrogance of it all. Even in death they couldn't get past their stupid preconceptions.

"I've never had anything hurt that much," Daphne confessed, her voice hollow as she remembered the heartbreak, the tragic sense of loss that she had never been able to escape no matter how much and how far she had run. "And I'm always scared, that I'm going to feel that again. I mean, look at you, with your honesty and your patience and your… and your kindness. Right now, you're a great friend and one that I never thought I'd have. But one day, that's all going to be gone and there's nothing we can do to stop it. Nothing. I just, I don't want to feel that way again."

"There is one thing you can do," Harry told her moving a little, pulling from her slightly so that his face was level with her hers. His emerald eyes fixed on her own, so full of pain and sorrow and understanding. "Don't focus on what's going to be, focus on what is, right now. Sure, you can obsess over what's coming, close yourself off from everyone because you're too scared to let them get close; because one day the memory of them might hurt so much you feel like you can't even breathe. Believe me, I know that feels. But if you do that, you're just existing, not living. A very old friend told me once not to pity the dead but to pity the living. And above all, to pity those who live without love. You know what? He was right. Life without love is no life at all and it was worth all the pain in the world to cherish the moments you have with the people you care about."

"You really believe that?"

"Yeah, I do. Wouldn't still be here if I didn't." Harry answered with a small smile. Despite herself, Daphne felt a grin pull at her lips. Harry had a way of doing that to her. No matter how dark her mood, somehow he always managed to lift it. In that moment Daphne realised just how lucky she was to have him in her life. Daphne was well aware that she wasn't the easiest person to get along with, but for whatever reason, Harry had stayed by her side.

"Thank you," Daphne said softly the smile never leaving her lips. She hoped he would understand just what those words meant. It wasn't just a 'thank you' for what he had just done and said. But rather for the role he had come to play in her life.

"For what?"

"Being you," Daphne told him almost laughing at the clueless look on his face as he stared back at her. "For being here. For listening to me. All of it."

"Always," Harry promised. "Besides, you'd do the same for me."

"Always," Daphne copied with a sincerity that almost took her by surprise. But she meant it, truly and as Daphne looked back into his emerald green eyes, she knew he did too.