AN: I'd just like to quickly say a huge thank you to Taliesin19 for going over this chapter for me and as usual if you guys have any questions feel free to drop me a message or leave one as a review and I'll make sure that I get back to you! Hope you like it.


Chapter Nineteen: The Slow Path

A soft orange glow tinted the sky as Andromeda Tonks stared silently out of her front room window. Any other day she may have reflected how beautiful the rays of the retreating sun made the garden look, but this was not an ordinary day. It had been almost a full day since the man she had come to view as an adopted son had disappeared without even the chance to say goodbye. What should have been a gorgeous evening seemed mute to her, dull, as if the colours had been bled of their beauty.

All the talk of him returning, of it just being a simple accident, had done nothing to raise Andromeda's spirits. She had spent her life dealing with loss, her husband, her daughter, her cousin, and now Harry too joined that list – even if it was only temporary. Andromeda wasn't foolish enough to try and convince herself that this could just last days or weeks. For all anyone knew, it could be months, years.

Why couldn't he just have listened? Those things were dangerous, there was a reason people avoided using them. But instead he'd had to play the hero, just like he always did. He had convinced himself it would be fine, if he'd thought even for a second that he would be leaving them then Andromeda knew that it would not have been such a simple choice for him to take. There was no way that Harry would want this.

Andromeda's reverie was broken by the sound of a small, optimistic voice. The voice that made her heart break all over again.

"Is Uncle Harry coming tonight?" Teddy asked hopefully from his position at the centre of the front room where he was playing with the Quidditch stadium that Harry had bought him for his birthday the previous year.

"Not tonight," Andromeda heard herself say. She hadn't had the heart to tell her grandson the truth the previous evening. Hermione had filled Harry's usual role, put him to bed and they had told him that Harry had been stuck at work but wished he could be there. All it had taken was a few charms and some quick thinking from Hermione to prevent the young boy from hearing the shouting match that had gone on downstairs.

"Is he catching bad guys?" Teddy asked excitedly, forgetting his Quidditch match as he looked up at Andromeda, a glint in his eye and a toothy smile lighting up his face. In that moment Andromeda wanted nothing more than to lie, but where would that lead? One lie would feed another, and then another until both she and Teddy were drowning in them. It wouldn't be protecting him, it would be protecting herself but she had to do it. There was no alternative. He had to know, and Andromeda wasn't to let anyone else tell him. Even if she lied, someday he would find out, it was all over the news. No. He had to know. No matter how much it hurt.

"No Teddy, he's not." Andromeda began as gently as she could, turning away from the window and heading to her grandson's side. She bent down so that she was on eye level with him. Her heart sank as she looked at him, but there was no avoiding this. "There was an accident."

"Accident?" Teddy repeated, confused, his eyes wide with childlike innocence. Andromeda almost faltered. How had Harry been able to do this for years? The amount of times he had been the man on the other side of the door, the bearer of the worst news of all. Andromeda had always felt sorry for the griever, she had never considered what it would be like to have be the one to turn someone's world upside down.

"Yes," Andromeda told him, taking a deep breath as she did so. "You remember Daphne, don't you? Harry's friend?" Teddy nodded. "Well, he had to help her with something very important, but it went wrong and now he's gone and we don't know when he's coming back."

"No," Teddy said, shaking his head defiantly. "Uncle Harry wouldn't leave."

"He didn't have a choice," Andromeda heard her voice waver, but she had come this far. "He didn't want to leave us, Teddy. I promise. It was an accident. It was nobody's fault. He would be here if he could, you know that."

"Then why did he go?" Teddy demanded, the confusion clear in his tiny voice. He didn't understand.

"They were doing some tests," Andromeda tried, "like how you do sometimes at school. But this test went wrong and your Uncle Harry was in the middle of it and now no-one knows when he's going to be back."

"Is he hurt?"

"No," Andromeda said quickly, she couldn't bear to have Teddy think that. She paused, trying to figure out how best to explain it. How could you explain time-travel to a child? "He's fine, he was just testing something which has sent him somewhere and we don't how long it'll take him to get back. It's like floo powder, he was supposed to come out at a certain grate but he didn't."

"He was testing floo powder?" Teddy asked, frowning.

"No, he was testing a time-turner," Andromeda said, opting instead for the truth rather than a confused metaphor which she wasn't even sure made sense. "They let people time-travel and he was meant to go forward just by a minute, but he didn't."

"Then bring him back," Teddy said simply, not seeing the problem.

"We can't, I'm sorry Teddy, there's nothing we can do." She had thought that he perhaps he might throw a tantrum, fly into a childish rage and storm off. But the sight that met Andromeda's was far worse than anything she had pictured. Teddy looked away from her, his eyes coming to rest on the tiny Quidditch players who were whizzing around the stadium. He reached out with a tiny hand and grabbed one, there was a muffled protest from the minute player and then without warning Teddy began to cry.

Andromeda felt her heart shatter. In an instant she was wrapping her arms around him, pulling him in tight. She fought back her own tears. She had to be strong, just like she always was. Teddy needed her right now. Her own grief could come later and in the darkness of her solitary silence when she had finally put Teddy to bed and made sure that he had fallen asleep, it did.

oOo

Harry Potter had been missing for about a week and the world hadn't stopped turning, life carried on as life always does and almost everyone had moved on with their lives. Almost everyone. There were, of course, exceptions. Tracey Davis knew this better than most, not because she actively missed Harry. Yes, she felt bad for the guy and for everyone that was missing him, but Tracey didn't know Harry. They'd met once and he'd seemed nice, but that wasn't enough to make her mope around because he was gone. No, the reason that Tracey knew the pain that Harry's departure had caused wasn't because she herself missed him, it was because her best friend did.

Daphne hadn't been the same since the experiment. Tracey had tried to cheer her friend up, they'd gone out for coffee, spent days with one another like they had in the old days, but nothing worked. Nothing could distract Daphne from her own guilt and without work to take her mind off of it she had closed herself off from the outside world. After the first few times she went out with Tracey, Daphne had started to make up excuses and point blank refused to see her friend. Tracey had done her best, but Daphne was stubborn, she always had been and as much as Tracey wanted to help her friend she had other responsibilities now. There were only so many days she could pretend to be ill, especially considering that the people she was lying to knew everything there was to know about illnesses.

The mini break that Tracey had taken in her attempts to support her friend had resulted in a back log at work, being in charge of her own ward came with certain responsibilities and Tracey's good-intentioned shirking of those responsibilities had caused utter chaos. It took a few days, double shifts and a lot of paperwork done on her own time just to get everything back on track. By the end of the week Tracey was exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep, and after a long day which had begun at six in the morning thanks to a domestic argument which had gotten out of hand, Tracey was finally able to get her wish.

Or at least that's what she thought.

She had only been home a matter of minutes, just enough time to quickly change into shorts and an old t-shirt ready for bed when there was a knock at her door. At first Tracey ignored it. Whatever they wanted could wait. But as the knocking grew louder and more impatient, Tracey forced herself off of the sofa and walked zombie-like to the door intent on telling whoever it was to leave her alone. Could she not get a moment's peace? But she never got that far. As soon the door was pulled back the words died on her lips.

"Tori?" Tracey asked a little stunned at the sight of the youngest Greengrass sister at her door. While they were close, they had never really seen each other without Daphne there. In fact, Tracey was pretty sure that the only time Astoria had ever come round was when Tracey had moved in. Mike, Tracey's boyfriend at the time, had thought it would be a good idea to have a party and it had been at the time. The morning after when Tracey was on an early start, not so much.

"Hi Trace," Astoria said, her usual chirpiness absent from her voice.

"What's up?" Tracey probed, before adding in an attempt to lighten the mood. "No wait, I've got it, you need me to do some intensive surgery on Narcissa, remove that stick from up her -"

"It's Daph," Astoria interrupted.

"Ah," Tracey said, somewhat deflated, the smile draining from her face. "What's wrong?"

"She's… I don't know, she's being really weird. She's pretty much locked herself up in the study, dad tried going in there but she wouldn't let him in. I'm starting to get a bit worried about her."

Tracey sighed, she knew where this was going. She could say no, tell Astoria that she was tired and wanted to get some well-deserved rest. After all, she'd already tried to help Daphne. Sometimes there was nothing anyone could do. Some people just didn't want help. But even as Tracey attempted to consider saying no, she knew that she was lying to herself. There was no way on Earth that Tracey would ever give up on Daphne.

"Come in, I'll just get changed," Tracey conceded, opening the door wide and retreating back into her flat.

"Sorry, I didn't realise you'd be going to bed," Astoria said apologetically, her face scrunching up a little as she realised just how Tracey was dressed.

"I wasn't, this is all part of my new dating style. I call it 'date ala slob'. Go in, look like crap and it can only go up from there." Tracey joked as she headed for her room. "It's fine, Tori. Don't worry about it, you didn't know."

Astoria loitered in the hall, no doubt inspecting some of the more muggle decorations that Tracey had put up. A painting of Times Square that she had gotten from New York when she and her mum had gone for a week, her dad had been busy, was hung in the hall above her shoe stand.

"So, what's she actually doing, then?" Tracey asked loudly so as Astoria heard her while she searched her room for some clothes. They couldn't all be dirty, could they? "I mean, other than moping?"

"From what dad said it sounded like she's trying to figure out stuff to do with the time-turners, you know the ones she was working on? Apparently she might be able to find out when Harry's going to come back."

"She said something about that last week," Tracey commented as she kicked some underwear under her bed and picked up a t-shirt she was pretty sure she'd lost. She gave it a quick once over, along with a hurried cleaning charm which did barely anything. Tracey never had been much good at Charms, but it would have to do. "I didn't really get it."

"Does anyone?" Astoria pointed out. While Astoria may have been sorted into the house of intelligence and wit even she barely understood the work which Daphne performed, much to her own frustration. "But she's not really done anything else all week. She was meant to come house viewing with Draco and I but pulled out. She even cancelled on dad."

"Really?" Tracey asked as she pulled a pair of jeans from the back of her desk chair. "Must be bad."

Daphne never cancelled anything with her father. Never. Though she had a tendency to obsess on her work, Daphne always made time for him. So much for a quiet night in, Tracey thought somewhat glumly. As much as she wanted to help her friend she had been looking forward to a night by herself. But life, it seemed, had other plans.

"He's starting to really worry about her," Astoria told Tracey as Tracey began clambering into her jeans and doing her best not to topple over into her chair. "So am I. I've never seen her like this, Trace."

I have,Tracey thought as she discarded her old t-shirt and pulled the new one over her head. It had been a long time, they'd been kids. Astoria knew nothing about it, Daphne had never told her but after their mum had died she'd gone in on herself. Stopped eating, refused to see people, just shut herself off. Astoria hadn't seen it, she'd been at home and while Daphne had been strong for her sister and her father whilst they were there, the reality of her loss had hit her at Hogwarts. Tracey had been the only one really to see it.

"We'll get it sorted," Tracey said with forced cheeriness as she reached under her bed, pulling out a battered old pair of trainers. She stepped into them quickly and hurriedly re-joined Astoria in the hall. Astoria said nothing. Her face was tight with concern and Tracey could completely understand why. Harry's disappearance had hit Daphne hard, but none of them had expecting it to be this hard.

They headed for Tracey's fireplace in silence, Astoria went first, the green light from the emerald flames briefly lighting up the room as she vanished from sight. Tracey waited a moment. It was never a good idea to go straight after someone else in the floo. It led to all sorts of awkward entanglement. When she was sure that Astoria would be nowhere near the fireplace on her end, Tracey took a pinch of powder from the pot on the mantel and stepped into the fire, threw it down and disappeared from her tiny flat.

There was a rush of grates, a blur of colour and whirl of motion, and in a flash, Tracey was stepping out into the Greengrass' living room.

"Are you not coming?" Tracey asked as she brushed off some of the soot that had attached itself to her.

"No, there's no point. I've already tried, she won't listen to me," Astoria said with a small sigh. Left unsaid was the fact that as close as Astoria and Daphne were, it wasn't the same as Tracey and Daphne's relationship. "Good luck."

"Thanks, I think I'll need it," Tracey replied before heading for the study. It was barely used these days, since Matthias worked mostly at Hogwarts and Daphne at the Department of Mysteries, and both of them had realised that it was unhealthy to bring work home if they could avoid it, not that that stopped either of them.

The door to the study stood a little ajar, an orange light flickered and glowed in the darkness of the house. There were so many rooms in Greengrass manor that it was entirely possible to live in separate sections and completely avoid the other inhabitants, a tactic Daphne had used more than a little when Astoria and Draco Malfoy first got together.

Tracey didn't bother with knocking, she'd only get told to go away, and she was too tired to try and combat that level of instant rejection. So instead she simply walked up to the door and pushed it open, letting herself in.

The room was well lit by several candles, some were enchanted to float high above the room while others stood in stands or brackets on the navy coloured walls. Bookcases lined the walls as they had done for generations, being added to by a wealth of Greengrasses who had come before Daphne and her family. The old desk, which Tracey vaguely remembered sitting in the middle of the room, had been moved to one side. In its place stood two blackboards. White chalk scribbles and calculations that Tracey didn't even bother to try and understand were scrawled in a chaotic mess all over the two boards. Beneath the boards were several books, some lay open, others were shut in a collected heap to the right of Tracey. No doubt, the books had not held the answers which Daphne had been looking for so had been discarded.

In the centre of this chaos stood Daphne herself. Her blonde hair, which usually held a glossy sheen was lank and uncared for. Her sleeves were rolled up, one more than the other. Chalk dust stained her black trousers in various stripes up and down her leg, probably from where she had tried to wipe it off of her hands. Her wand lay atop one of the open books seemingly forgotten as Daphne stared at the board on her left. Her icy eyes flicked down to the book in her hand and then back to the board. Tracey's only warning was the noise of frustration that came from her friend. An instant later, the book was hurled angrily away causing Tracey to quickly duck away so as to avoid being struck by it.

"Careful, you could take someone's eye out with that," Tracey said, stooping down to retrieve that book which had fallen at her feet.

"Trace?" Daphne frowned, her attention drifting from the mass of calculations. "What're you doing here?"

"Tori asked me to come by," Tracey answered heading for the bookcase nearest to her and replacing the book that Daphne had accidentally hurled at her. It probably wasn't in the right place, but old shelves like these had a habit of sorting that out themselves. "Good thing too, I didn't realise you were training to become England's new chaser. Though you might wanna try on something a bit more, I don't know, round?" Daphne's face didn't even react. This is going to be fun. "She's worried about you, so is your dad, and to be honest Daph, so am I."

"I'm fine," Daphne bit back bitterly.

"No, you're not." But Daphne didn't say anything, preferring stony silence. By this point Astoria would get frustrated and their father would carry on trying to find out what was wrong. But that wasn't the best way to get round it. The direct approach would just cause her to shut off.

"What are you even doing in here, anyway?" Tracey asked, forcing as much curiosity into her voice as she could. It was an old tactic. Whenever she was stuck on a problem Daphne preferred to talk it through with someone. Apparently it gave her a new perspective, and if one thing was obvious it was that Daphne was struggling.

"I'm trying to figure out just whenit was we sent Harry to," Daphne explained with a sigh, running a hand through her lank hair as she went back to staring at the blackboards. "But it's not making any sense."

"So? Can't you just send him back when he turns up?" Tracey asked. After all, if they had sent him to the future, couldn't they just send him to the past? "Make it like all this never happened."

"It wouldn't be like,Trace, none of this would've happened if we were to even try that. That could do literally anything."

"What do you mean?"

"Paradoxes. And that's just to start with," Daphne began. "If I send him back from the future, that future will never happen for me to send him back from—paradox loop. And even if it did work, which by the way is completely untested, and most people agree that type of thing could cause catastrophic consequences – I mean universe ending ones—what would happen then? What would Harry coming back change?"

"It would stop all of this," Tracey pointed out, not quite understanding what Daphne meant.

"It's not as simple as that," Daphne said, the frustration clear in her voice. "You don't just cut out what you don't want to happen. We can't predict everything that bringing him back might do. Have you ever heard of something called chaos theory?"

"The butterfly thing," Tracey answered, vague memories of the science-fiction films her mum had shown her as a kid coming back to her. "You kill a butterfly in the past, and it causes a hurricane or something?"

"Close enough," Daphne nodded. "Well, it could be something like that, or it could be that I send him back to the exact moment he should've reappeared or just after. That would validate my work, meaning that we might not go on to notice the effects that travelling in the past has on travelling to the future. Or this test might blow up in someone else's face. Or we might go out that night to celebrate, and so we'd go to a muggle pub—you know he hates being famous—then get drunk and one of us could get hit by a car."

"But that would never happen," Tracey protested. It was ridiculous. Nothing like that would happen, would it? But as Tracey stopped and actually thought about it, she realised just how infinite the possibilities of bringing Harry back from the future could be, assuming that even trying didn't blow a hole in the fabric of reality or something. Merlin, this was getting complicated.

"You don't know that, no-one can be sure what might happen. It's too dangerous to risk playing with time."

"But can't time be rewritten? Didn't you say that Granger and Harry saved Sirius Black's life?"

"I did, and it can," Daphne conceded. "But it takes great care or, in their case, luck. There's too much at risk if we even tried it." The regret in her voice was almost palpable and Tracey could tell that Daphne had had this very same conversation with herself before coming to the same conclusion that she had made Tracey see. It was too dangerous. "All I can do is try and figure out when he's going to come back."

"You don't have to do anything. Why are you putting yourself through all this, Daph?" It broke Tracey's heart to see her best friend like this. But Daphne had always been obsessive and focused. It was why she was such a good unspeakable. That drive and ambition that had gotten her so far had a price, though, and it was one which she was finally paying. All of her energy was focused on one problem that she couldn't step away from. Her guilt wouldn't let her.

"They deserve to know," Daphne muttered darkly, biting at her nails. "I can figure this out, I know I can, I just… I'm missing something."

"What?"

"I don't know! If I did, it wouldn't be missing, would it?" Daphne snapped angrily. But her fury instantly died as her pale eyes fixed on Tracey. "Sorry, Trace. But there's got to be more to it than this." Her hand gestured wildly at the blackboards and stacks of scattered books. "This can't be it."

"And what if it is?" Tracey asked, voicing the question that she knew Daphne needed to hear but wanted desperately to ignore.

"It can't be," Daphne said simply, her voice lacked defiance. It wasn't like she was arguing, it was more that she just didn't believe what Tracey was saying and was moving past it. Typical Daphne. Always thought she was right. "I just need more. Knowing how long the first trip was would be nice. At least then I might have something to go on."

"Yeah, but it's not like you can just up and ask Granger," Tracey pointed out with a small supportive smile.

Daphne turned to Tracey and as soon as their eyes met Tracey felt her stomach fall. She knew that look. "No."

"Why not? It's just one question, what's the harm in that? Trace, it's a great idea." Daphne protested hurriedly running to the other side of the room to reclaim her wand. Tracey's inadvertent advice stimulated a newfound energy in her best friend. The change was startling. It was like someone had flipped a switch inside her friend's mind, snapping her mood from one to the other.

"I'm pretty sure that's the opposite of what I just said," Tracey argued helplessly as Daphne turned on her heel and rushed from the room which had become her sanctuary. Cursing, Tracey followed as fast as her tired limbs would allow her while wishing that she had stayed at home. This was not how she had seen this going. Maybe a long conversation or shouting, possibly even a discussion about why Daphne was lugging around her guilt. Anything but this would be preferable.

"Daph, slow down, think about this!" Tracey called after her friend who was on the verge of running down the ancient corridors of Greengrass manor. Various old inhabitants, now framed portraits, tutted and glowered at, what one of them called, the 'foolery of the younger generation'.

"What's to think about? This could help, Trace, really help."

"Do you really think they're going to want you showing up at wherever the hell it is we're going?"

"We? I never asked you to come," Daphne retorted as she leapt down the stairs, taking them two at a time. "In fact, aren't you the one that thinks this is a terrible idea?"

"I'm not letting you do something this stupid on your own," Tracey snapped back. At least it was meant to come out that way. But in her current state of unfit and unhealthy it hadn't taken long for Tracey to suddenly be out of breath from the unscheduled burst of exercise. Her already protesting muscles were now practically screaming at her. A twelve hour shift, apparently, wasn't good for the body. Who'd have known?

"It's not stupid. This could be the key to finding out what happened."

"And just why is this all so important?" Tracey asked, grimacing a little and grabbing at the stitch which she could feel developing in her side. Merlin that was a lot of stairs.

"It… it just is, okay?"

"No, if you're going to drag me cold calling the least I deserve is an explanation," Tracey panted as defiantly as anyone could whilst out of breath.

It had been a week and Daphne had said nothing. Not a thing. Yes, she'd been there when Tracey had talked about the accident. But all she'd done was put yes and no in the right places and thought that Tracey hadn't noticed; like she couldn't read her best friend. Tracey had let it slide in the hope that Daphne would open up on her own terms. But this, this was too much. Daphne needed to face up to why she was dead set on a course of action which was ill advised at best.

"I never asked you to come," Daphne said again as she summoned her shoes. A dark frown creased her pale face.

"You shouldn't have to ask," Tracey responded emphatically. Her friend had always been dead set on independence. When was she going to learn that leaning on people wasn't a bad thing? "So come on, talk to me. What's really going on with you? And don't say nothing because we both know that's a lie, and I don't want to have to hex you."

There was a long moment as Daphne's eyes dropped to the floor. All of the energy which had suddenly possessed faded as quickly as it had come.

"It's my fault," Daphne said quietly. "All of this. Everyone keeps trying to tell me it's not, but that's not true. If it hadn't been for me, Harry would never have been there. I can't just stand by and do nothing."

"And?" Tracey prompted as gently as she could. It was difficult getting Daphne to open up, like taming a Hippogriff. There was a certain way of doing it. Tactical indirectness, that was the name of game—with just a tiny push to try and get her to see what the real problem was herself. Guilt was a part of it, of that Tracey had no doubt, but it wasn't the cause.

"Does there need to be something else?"

"You just locked yourself in a study for three days, I think it's safe to say this isn't just about your guilt. Why don't you just admit that you care about him?"

So much for tactical and indirect, Tracey thought sourly, but she was too tired for subtlety. It was so glaringly obvious for the entire world to see that Daphne's feelings for her so called 'friend' were so much more than that. Daphne hadn't locked herself away because she wanted to give his family some hope or whatever other twaddle her brain had made up to hide the truth. She was working so hard because she missed him, and she wanted to bring him back, simple as that. As for her guilt, Tracey was almost certain that that came from just who she had lost rather than it actually being her fault. No-one could've seen it coming, Daphne had done everything right. But because it was Harry that got put in the crosshairs, it was her responsibility.

"Not this again." Daphne's exasperation only made Tracey shake her head.

"Why won't you just admit it?"

"Because it's not the truth?" It was a question, not statement. Well, that was something at least.

"Uh-huh," Tracey murmured, utterly unconvinced. "Did the last week happen to someone else, or am I missing something here? You shut yourself up in a room trying to figure out the impossible because you miss him."

"I didn't say that," Daphne shot back bitterly.

"You didn't have to. I'm your best friend, remember?" When Daphne didn't argue Tracey continued pressing. "What are you so scared of exactly?"

"This," Daphne muttered, clearly unable to look at Tracey so her eyes stayed glued to a point slightly above her friend's head. "Losing him. I knew it would happen some day and that scared me. I didn't want to get in too deep. Guess that went well, huh?" She sighed, managing to drag her eyes to meet Tracey's. "You're right. You've always been right, and I couldn't see it. I didn't want to. What good did it do? I lost him anyway."

"When did you realise?" Tracey asked trying not to be too stunned by her friend's sudden confession nor to jump in the air and yell 'I told you so'. Somehow it didn't feel like the right time.

"A few days ago," Daphne confessed. "Tori said that I was only this upset because it was Harry that got hurt, and I couldn't stop thinking that she was right. I've never been this invested before, at first I thought it was because he was my friend but…"

"You realised he's more important than just a friend," Tracey finished. She knew the feeling all too well, unlike Daphne who had actively avoided serious relationships almost her entire life.

"Something like that," Daphne nodded. There was an awkward silence for a moment, punctured only by the rhythmic loud ticking of the clock. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's fine, it's not like I didn't know I was right. I just wish he hadn't had to disappear for you to realise," Tracey shrugged. She had long since stopped taking Daphne's need for privacy personally. She bottled things up by nature. Half of the time Tracey would be told what had been wrong six months after it had happened, which was a fat lot of good then. "But he's gonna come back, sooner or later, and then you can tell him, kiss and make lots of tiny, little Greengrasses."

"And you wonder why I don't tell you things?" A small smirk lifted the corner of Daphne's mouth. It was a refreshing change from dour and grumpy. But it was only temporary. The only thing that would brighten her mood for good would be finding out just when Harry was going to come back, and there was only one way that Daphne was even going to have a chance at finding that out.

"Eh," Tracey shrugged, pulling a smile onto her face before continuing. "So, are we going to go and ask Granger whatever it is you wanna ask; or are we chilling here for the night? Either's cool, just if we're staying here I thought I might get a chair or something, maybe some tea."

"I thought you said it was a stupid plan?" Daphne pointed out, arching her eyebrow as her smirk turned to a small appreciative smile.

"Yeah, well, it is." Tracey conceded. There was no way she could see this ending well, but if it was what Daphne needed then Tracey was going to support her. "But you'll just do it when I leave anyway, so I might as well tag along."

"I didn't know I was that predictable," Daphne muttered with only a trace of bitterness in her voice.

"Only to me," Tracey replied sincerely.

The journey to Hermione Granger's flat, which according to Daphne was where Granger was most likely to be found these days having finally realised that she was pumping way too much time into her work, passed in relative silence. It wasn't exactly what Tracey would call a good time for small talk, but even when she tried, her friend would remain noncommittal and tight lipped. By the time they had apparated, Tracey had simply given up. Daphne always got like this when she was nervous.

Granger's building was well lit and inviting and it was only when Tracey checked her watch that she realised it wasn't actually that late, a fact which her body clock highly disagreed with.

"So, what's the plan?" Tracey asked when they had climbed the many stairs which led to Granger's flat.

"Knock, ask, leave," Daphne suggested without even a hint of certainty.

"This is going to go great," Tracey muttered as they came to a halt, Tracey slightly after Daphne who had said nothing to indicate that they had arrived.

Daphne said nothing, instead raising her fist and knocking loudly but politely on Granger's door. A long second passed, then another and another. Tracey blew out a sigh through her lips causing them to ripple. The glare Daphne shot her way was almost worth it. Tracey was about to raise her arms in a 'what else am I supposed to do' gesture when the door was pulled open and Hermione Granger was revealed. Tracey's levity instantly died. Granger was dressed in a nice dress, make-up had been delicately applied and her hair wasn't as bushy as usual. This was bad. Granger wasn't alone.

Tracey's suspicions were confirmed when Granger's eyes went wide and she stepped slightly in front of the door, blocking her visitors from view of whoever else was in the flat. Beyond the door Tracey could hear laughing, people talking and then a crash and a loud cheer. Someone had dropped a glass.

"Daphne, Tracey what... er what are you doing here?" Granger asked hesitantly, brushing a stand of hair behind her ear and forcing a smile onto her face. Amazingly it convinced no-one.

"This is the beginning of a cool superhero film, and we're assembling an elite squad to –" Tracey faltered as both women turned to her, one confused, the other glowering. "Right, serious. Gotcha."

"I need to talk to you about that time-turner you and Harry used," Daphne answered, shaking her head at Tracey's antics.

"Could we do this another time?" Granger asked, her face tight and panicked.

"But I think I might be able to figure out –"

Daphne words were interrupted as, at that exact moment, a man's voice which Tracey vaguely recognised, probably because it was far deeper than the last time she had heard it, said, "Hermione?"

"Just a minute," Granger called back her panic, if possible, intensifying. "Daphne, I'm sorry, but I can't do this right now."

"Yeah, Daph we should go," Tracey agreed wholeheartedly, there was only a short list of people who that man could be and none of them were going to be pleased to see Daphne. One man in particular would hate the sight of Daphne on his girlfriend's doorstep.

But Daphne, either unaware of just who was behind the door, or too fixated on what she had come to say, ploughed on, "but it won't take a minute, I just need to know how far you both went back. Hermione, please. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Hermione paused, something stopping her from turning back and shutting the door in their faces. Maybe it was the sudden fragility in Daphne's voice, or the fact that Daphne was being nice, or because Granger too wanted nothing more than to know when her best friend would be coming home. Whatever the reason Granger stayed put, the door stayed open and whoever was calling for her was left calling.

"Three hours," Granger answered. "That was the only time he used it." She paused, glancing back over her shoulder before quickly asking, "do… do you really think that you can work this out?"

"I hope so," Daphne nodded, there was an awkward pause in which Tracey was about to try and advise that they leave again when Daphne spoke up once more, "Hermione, I just want to say, that I'm sorry. For everything. This is the last thing that I wanted to happen."

Hermione looked as if she wanted to reply, but her words never came, instead another voice spoke. The man that called earlier had apparently gotten bored of waiting. "Hey Hermione, what's taking so long, everyone's waiting for –"

The door was pulled back to reveal none other than Ron Weasley. Like Granger, Weasley too was dressed for the occasion that Daphne and Tracey had seemingly interrupted. Tracey remembered him as a laughing, smiling and joking boy. But there wasn't even a trace of that boy as his blue eyes narrowed and his ears began to turn a deep red.

"What's she doing here?" Weasley demanded, placing as much venom and disgust as he could on 'she'. Daphne had told Tracey about her little spat with Weasley, but Tracey hadn't quite been able to picture him being so spiteful towards anyone that wasn't Draco Malfoy. Now she was having no trouble.

"Leaving," Tracey said quickly. "Right, Daph?"

"We were just asking about Harry," Daphne explained, leaving Tracey to wonder why she was the only one that wanted out of the incredibly awkward and potentially volatile situation. Why had she agreed to this?

"Hasn't she done enough damage?" Ron sneered, directing his question at his girlfriend rather than Daphne. Tracey wanted to sigh. She didn't even need to look to her right to know that Daphne's temper would snap at that, because right now she needed absolutely zero provocation.

"I'm right here, Weasley," Daphne pointed out, her own anger bubbling to the surface as she spoke. "And for your information I am trying to fix this."

"If it wasn't for you there'd be nothing to fix," Weasley snapped back, "so thanks, but no thanks. Why don't you clear off and leave us alone?"

"Ron, she's just trying to help," Hermione said gently, her left hand reaching up to touch her boyfriend's shoulder. It was only then that Tracey saw the latest addition to Hermione's tiny collection of jewelry. The stone was small, but beautiful and glittered in the light. Tracey felt her stomach sink. This was an engagement party. She wasn't his girlfriend. She was his fiancée.

"Help? Right, cause she's done such a great job of that already," Ron retorted, his temper apparently beyond his control. "I'd sooner ask for Malfoy's help than her!"

"You might not like me Weasley," Daphne began, her voice harsh and her words measured as she did her best to stay in control. "But I want Harry back just as much as you do, and I am your best chance of finding out when that's going to happen. Sure, you could ask Draco, but somehow I think he'd have a bit of trouble."

"Why are you even bothering?" Ron spat back. "After this he's never going to want to talk to you again."

Tracey stared horror-struck at Weasley. Talk about a low blow. Anger and grief was one thing but this was something else. That had crossed the line. The colour had drained from Daphne's face. Tracey, who had been firmly set on leaving, snapped. Words failed her and as her brain tried to come up with something to say, her body took over and she slapped him. Hard.

He staggered back, clutching at his face, his mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. Granger stared, equally stunned as Weasley. Past them, Tracey could see the rest of his family—Ginny, his mother, father and a slightly older woman with black hair that she didn't recognize—come rushing to the hall so as to investigate the sound. All eyes were fixed on Tracey whose unprecedented surge of confidence and anger was leaving her faster than a firebolt. But before she could mutter an apology or shout that he deserved it, Daphne spoke, her voice level and calm.

"We'll see," she then turned on her heel and walked away. Tracey, realising that this was here cue to leave, gave an awkward and somewhat apologetic smile to Weasley and Granger before following her friend down the corridor at a slightly faster pace, her face burning. Behind them there was a sound of a door shutting.

"Well, that could've gone worse." Tracey said, somewhat awkwardly as she broke the silence that had fallen between them.

"It could have," Daphne agreed. "Nice slap, by the way."

"Thanks, though I'm really not sure what came over me." Tracey hadn't even seen it coming herself. She wasn't like that. She was usually a calm, considerate person, not a Bruce Willis impersonator. Okay, she mentally chastised herself, Bruce Willis was probably a step too far, but the point still stood. "My hand kinda hurts now."

"Hitting someone tends to do that," Daphne commented dryly. Tracey frowned slightly. Maybe she hadn't taken Weasley's words as badly as she'd first thought. "Thank you, though."

"He was out of line," Tracey said earnestly, flexing her fingers as she tried to work the feeling back into her hand. "You don't believe that crap, do you?"

"Like I said, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" Was all Daphne said as she opened the door and led the way out of the apartment.

oOo

Despite what she had said to Tracey, the trip to Hermione's flat had gone horrendously. The only tangible link that Daphne had to Harry had now most likely vanished. Ron hated her guts, Andromeda had warned Harry against taking part in the first place, and now Hermione would probably be against her, too. When Harry did finally come home, it was going to be a different world to the one he had left behind and one which Daphne doubted he would enjoy.

But for all the fighting and partially crashed engagement party, Daphne was at least able to finally get some headway in her attempts at solving the puzzle of Harry's return. All it took was a few control subjects, rabbits which she transfigured from clothes she hated, a time-turner – which, being the one who had created the new models in the first place, wasn't difficult to manufacture, and several hours and days of careful waiting. First, she sent one of the rabbits one half turn back in time in the middle of a locked room - so as when they were transported back they couldn't cause much damage - and then she sent them forwards the minute she had tried with Harry. The result had been a three and a half day nightmare of self-doubt, dread and seemingly endless projected theories which all turned out to be wrong when the rabbit didn't reappear.

As soon as it did, Daphne repeated the feat, this time with three on a quarter turn, three on half turns, another batch one three quarter turns and finally a group of rabbits which had been sent back the full hour. It didn't take long for a pattern to emerge. The first group returned within one day, six hours and three minutes, the next three days, twelve hours and six minutes and so on until the final group returned within one week, twelve minutes and forty three seconds. The correlation was obvious. A turn a week, more or less. Daphne's experiment had taken almost a week and half, meaning that when her research was concluded she estimated that there were only three more days until Harry would finally be home.

So when the day came, Daphne dressed in her work robes, pocketed the rolls and rolls of parchment which contained all of the data she had collected from the volunteer rabbits such as weight change, emotional reactions to outside stimuli, and physical descriptions before and after the tests. In short though, the observations revealed that the rabbits seemed perfectly fine. None of them exhibited any signs of mental or physical trauma – apart from Benji who had escaped and been trodden on by Daphne's father, so that didn't really count.

"Good morning," Daphne said brightly as she entered the kitchen. Her father, who was leafing through the Daily Prophet with a croissant half way to his mouth, looked up surprised.

"You're not in the study," he commented somewhat warily. "And you're smiling. Why are you smiling?"

"I bet they missed you when you stopped being an auror, so perceptive." Daphne responded sarcastically, opening a cupboard in search of food. Her stomach, which she had pretty much ignored to the best part of two weeks, had growled in protest on her way down the stairs, so Daphne had thought it might be a good idea to get something to eat for a change.

"Joking too, you're in a good mood." Daphne's father assessed, thoroughly unnerved with his croissant forgotten as it fell back onto his plate. "This is weird. Why are you in a good mood?"

"Am I not allowed to be happy?" Daphne asked, pretending to be affronted as she grabbed a muffin from the cupboard and began pulling away the wrapper. After the last few weeks it was fun to torment her father.

"No," he answered, somewhat bluntly but Daphne could understand his scepticism and confusion. For the past three weeks she had been hell to live with. The first had been filled with bad tempered shouting, irritableness and a general effort by her family to both support and avoid her at all costs. The other two, and for much of the first, she had locked herself away in the study either sulking or conducting experiments on rabbits. Neither had made her accessible to her father or Astoria, a fact which Daphne had promised herself she would make up for when this was all over.

"Thanks, Dad," Daphne said through a mouthful of muffin. She stopped, swallowed and added, "we should do this more often."

"You know what I mean, I've not seen you like this since…" he trailed off awkwardly apparently struggling to find a term for Harry's disappearance that he thought might not damage his daughter's mood

"Harry," Daphne prompted, "it's fine, Dad, you can say it."

"You promise not to throw anything?"

"That was one time," Daphne protested, remembering his first attempt at getting her to talk which had ended in a smashed plate and her storming off. "But yes, I promise. And, to answer your first question, I am in a good mood because today is a good day."

"Are you sure?" he asked, this time the paper was victim to his sudden loss of attention as it too fell from his grasp to the counter.

"Sure as I can be," Daphne nodded, taking another bite of muffin. "So, I'm going to work. Luidhard said I had until Harry came back off. If I'm right that's in," she glanced up, checking the clock on the far wall, "fifteen minutes and forty five seconds."

"And if you're wrong?"

"Then I get fired," answered Daphne as she picked out a chocolate chip from between her teeth with her tongue. She was doing her best to look calm and relaxed, but inside her nerves were making her stomach do flips and her heart hammer. That was why she had selected a light breakfast and not the one her food-deprived stomach deserved.

"That seems like a pretty big risk," her father said, concerned.

"I have to be there, Dad, I can't just sit here and wait to hear about it on the news or something," Daphne explained. "I've already owled Miller, he's told Luidhard, and they're expecting me. No doubt he's just excited because if Harry doesn't come back, I'm breaching my leave agreement and he can sack me on the spot. Git."

"If he wanted to sack you, he would've done," Daphne's father told her with the air of a wise old man, a look which was somewhat spoilt by the coffee stain on his shirt. "Let's face it, you gave him a pretty decent opportunity."

"We'll see," Daphne responded with a small shrug. It wasn't that she didn't want to agree with her father, it was more the fact that she knew Luidhard to be a spineless, self-interested worm who hated her for a name she had never wanted or abused. As much as her father was being logical, sometimes logic didn't always work. Besides, he hadn't been there when Luidhard had issued his little ultimatum.

"It'll be fine," her father assured her, in the way that parent's do even when they have no clue what the actual outcome would be. It was sweet, but Daphne wasn't a child anymore. She knew that there was every chance, just like last time, that this could go horribly wrong. She could lose her job for one thing, but even worse, she could shatter the hope that she had so desperately been trying to instill in Harry's family. Ever since she had started to realise when he'd be coming back, she had sent out a series of letters, first to Andromeda, then to Hermione and even to Longbottom and Lovegood. All the people that missed him, all the ones who needed him back. It had been rash and stupid, a part of her had wanted to wait and not give them the opportunity to hate her if this went wrong, but Daphne didn't regret it. They deserved to have hope.

"Yeah," Daphne agreed with equally forced optimism that fooled neither herself nor her father. "Anyway, I'd better get going."

"Good luck," her father said.

"Thanks," Daphne smiled back before turning, heading out of the room and mentally adding: Hopefully I won't need it.