The Champion's Legacy

Chapter 7: There's Always An After


Author's Note: I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did writing it. Don't forget the second author's note at the end of this.

Many thanks to Dorothea Greengrass for beta-reading this chapter.


Disclaimer: Recognisable portions in this chapter have been taken from the Harry Potter series, by J.K. Rowling. I neither own nor intend to make any profit from the use of Harry Potter and the associated characters of the series, in my story.


Previously on "The Champion's Legacy"…

Harry was paying a bit more attention now. Mr Greengrass wasn't looking at Harry, but was staring in another direction; Harry could tell he was listening intently, though – his eyes were fixed on a particular point on the opposite wall.

'To this rate, we discussed, and thought it necessary, that you must be taught on how to protect your mind from such intrusions.'

'Like mind reading?' asked Harry suddenly. 'Sir?' he added hurriedly, afraid he'd sounded rude.

'Not quite,' said Dumbledore with a smile. 'Tell me, Harry, have you heard of Occlumency?'


The days leading up to Harry's hearing at the Ministry of Magic were eerily similar to those before the Triwizard Tournament tasks – a considerable amount of nervousness, no shortage of anxious faces, and a definite, palpable feeling of what Hermione termed, in an apparent attempt to lighten the mood, as 'the worry over whether Murphy's law would impact them: what can go wrong, will go wrong.'

Despite the gloom, Harry considered it quite worth it to see Ron's freckled face transition from initial mystification about Hermione stating a Muggle quote, to blanching at the explanation, doubtless trying to work out how and when their bushy-haired friend had started having such morbid thoughts.

The one thing that was different in these two weeks, however, was the fact that Harry somehow found himself extremely occupied the entire time. A good bit of it was, admittedly, spent with Mr Greengrass – but only a small portion of that 'good bit' was on preparations for the hearing. With the standard protocol of a hearing for underage magic use being a discussion with the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – which counted the Improper Use of Magic Office as one of its own – Harry and Mr Greengrass had both agreed that getting into detailed arguments and rebuttals wouldn't be worth the effort. They had therefore restricted themselves to ensuring that, for one, Harry knew what exactly to say when, and for another, he would allow Mr Greengrass to speak at all other times that were considered necessary.

The rest of his time with Mr Greengrass was invested in learning Occlumency, the obscure and rather complex art of defending one's mind against external intrusions. They had spent an hour every evening in the past two weeks, going over the subject and the various approaches to it.

'Occlumency,' Mr Greengrass had said during their first session, 'is the magical art of protecting one's mind against intrusions from the outside. Conversely, an attempt to, in simplistic terms, read another person's mind, is known as Legilimency.'

Harry thought it was rather a lot like mind-reading, simplistic or not, but he didn't say anything. Mr Greengrass didn't seem like someone he would have wanted to cross, rather like Professor McGonagall.

'You must realise, Mr Potter, that the mind is not a book that can be perused or read through at will,' continued Mr Greengrass. 'Muggles speak of mind-reading and accessing another person's thoughts, but it is a lot more difficult than that. A mind, in essence, is a complex entity of its own, layered with thoughts, emotions, memories, feelings, habits, and the like. Protecting it through Occlumency requires skill, dedication, and the ability to compartmentalise.'

'The ability to what?'

'Compartmentalise,' repeated Mr Greengrass, giving Harry a slightly reproachful look. 'To mentally partition your thoughts and emotions, so that you are able to, in effect, shut down a part of yourself if you need to.'

Harry thought it was a bit extreme to have separate sections for each of his emotions and thoughts at any given time – eerily, it reminded him of Mad-Eye Moody's magical trunk, with seven different compartments storing all manners of items and artefacts, with each section accessed using a unique key.

'Creating compartments is, of course, something that only very advanced Occlumens achieve,' said Mr Greengrass. 'Employ it in the wrong manner, and it could create a situation of what is termed as 'split personalities': each compartment would display distinct personality states, which is often unknown and unrecognisable to the others.'

Mr Greengrass nodded grimly as Harry's eyes widened at that statement. 'Yes, it isn't a pretty outcome. Compartmentalisation takes exceptional and uncommon skill, and most who attempt to master Occlumency lack this, thereby leading to rather…disastrous results.'

He stood up from his chair in the drawing room, where he had been seated for the last quarter of an hour. Harry made to mirror him, but Mr Greengrass waved him back to his seat.

'At present, Albus and I believe that developing an above-average level of Occlumency skill would be more than enough for you,' he said, pacing in front of the large Black family tapestry. 'Which brings us to –'

'But why?' interrupted Harry. 'Why does Professor Dumbledore think I need it?'

Mr Greengrass stopped pacing and gazed at Harry, who found it quite disconcerting, once again, to be at the receiving end of these stares, especially when those eyes were so much like Daphne's.

'Albus believes,' said Mr Greengrass slowly, as though he was choosing his words carefully, 'that your unusual connection with Voldemort may result in you sharing his thoughts and emotions. It is my understanding that you have experienced this in the past.'

Harry nodded, all too aware of what Mr Greengrass was referring to. The torture of Wormtail at Voldemort's hands, just after the Weighing of the Wands ceremony last November; Voldemort's fury at the three young Death Eaters after the attack on Privet Drive…

Mr Greengrass seemed to have notice where his thoughts had headed, because he gave Harry a few moments to return to the present before continuing. 'Presently, we believe that Voldemort does not know of this connection, nor of this insight into his mind. While it may be useful at times – having a first-hand look into the enemy's plans is always helpful – it could prove risky once Voldemort does find out about it.' He paused, evidently looking for the right words. 'Voldemort could use it to plant false information or trails…or could even look to control you.'

Harry felt himself blanch at that, his eyes widening and his mouth falling open in shock.

'C-control me?' he stammered out. 'As in, like possess –'

'Yes, and no,' said Mr Greengrass. 'It is unlikely that there will be outright possession – and even that is rare and unheard of. However, you may be susceptible to sudden changes in your emotive state, some of which may not be yours in the first place.'

Harry suddenly noticed that he had unconsciously wrapped his arms around himself, despite the warmth from the fire in the room. As if the connection to Voldemort wasn't bad enough, the thought of actively sharing that monster's emotions made him feel tainted…unclean. He shuddered, involuntarily, even as the heat of the flames washed over him.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up into Mr Greengrass's concerned and sympathetic face.

'I will not claim to understand with what you are going through,' he said gently, 'but you must know that I will help you in any way I can…Harry. You are not alone.'

More than anything, the declaration of solidarity had done wonders to strengthen Harry's resolve. Mr Greengrass had already implied his intention to side with Harry and Dumbledore at dinner that evening, when he'd agreed to represent Harry at the hearing, but this was an actual statement of intent; an outright expression of where the Greengrasses now stood in the war. And Harry could not help but feel extremely grateful for that, especially at a time when it seemed as though almost the whole wizarding community was against him and his 'attention-seeking theatrics'.

With a jolt, it struck him that this was exactly what Cassius Warrington would have done; he would have sided with Harry – he had, in fact, sided with him as he helped him train for the third task – and he would not have let him face it all alone. Cassius had not abandoned Harry, even in the final moments of his life…

'Harry, get out of here!'

Harry shook his head, hurriedly wiping his eyes clean of the tears that threatened to spill over, and mentally berated himself for acting this way. Cassius wouldn't have wanted him to be like this – he would have hexed him for going to pieces, and told him to get a move on. And he would have been right – he couldn't keep falling apart like this every time he thought of his late friend.

And goodness, he'd almost cried in front of Mr Greengrass! Harry could now feel the heat coming off his face from his embarrassment.

Mr Greengrass squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, a soft smile on his face. 'You are not alone, Harry,' he repeated. 'We are with you.'


The fact that Harry could potentially share Voldemort's thoughts, and possibly even be controlled by them, had hit him rather hard, even after Mr Greengrass' expression of support, but Daphne and Hermione's reprimands and encouragement forced him to get over it rather quickly. His self-recrimination and self-loathing stood no chance against the Gryffindor-Slytherin combination of harsh truth and subtle suggestions, provided by the two brightest witches in his year – one of whom was arguably the brightest witch of the age.

Harry later admitted to himself that the pair of them made for a ruthless and deadly combination, and immediately resolved not to offend either of them, or both together. He was quite sure he wouldn't survive the consequences if he did.

It was thus that, with a renewed desire to win and not let Voldemort's thoughts control him, and Sirius' advice repeating itself in his mind – 'Don't let him control your life' – Harry began his training.

'The first step in Occlumency training is to achieve a state of calmness of your mind – a state where your mind is at peace, instead of being troubled or thinking of numerous things at once.'

And so he practised, using a combination of the deep breathing and meditative techniques that Mr Greengrass showed him. It was, admittedly, and a little frustratingly, slow progress; even in the near-total privacy of the drawing room, Harry found himself getting distracted every now and then. Thoughts of the upcoming hearing, and whether or not he would be allowed to return to Hogwarts, flitted in and out of his mind as he sat with his eyes closed, and threw him off his focus more often than not.

Could he be expelled? Harry doubted it – the defence he and Mr Greengrass had prepared was iron-clad. Yet, the butterflies continued to fly around in his stomach, making him feel queasy and more anxious than what was strictly necessary. It didn't help that Mr Greengrass announced that he and Mrs Greengrass would be returning to Greengrass Manor a week before the hearing, as had been originally planned. Despite his distinct lack of progress in his initial Occlumency training, Mr Greengrass' presence itself had been a sort of calming factor. Harry knew their absence would be felt clearly – and not just for him.

He knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but after that tell-all dinner, the Greengrasses had warmed up rather well to the rest of the occupants of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry often spotted Mrs Weasley and Mrs Greengrass chatting over a cup of tea in the early hours of the evening, or while they prepared lunch or dinner. Mrs Weasley, in particular, seemed to relish talking to the younger mother, sharing anecdotes of the twins' antics when they were younger, or of Bill and Charlie's achievements in Hogwarts and after. And even though Harry didn't know Mrs Greengrass that well, it was evident that she was enjoying the company as well.

Mr Greengrass seemed to have stepped up his involvement with the activities of the Order. Harry and the others noticed a definite upturn in the number of meetings during the week they were here, and indeed, the number of Order members who showed up for them. Even the Weasleys were surprised that there were these many people who had chosen to side with Dumbledore against Voldemort. Mr Greengrass' inputs certainly appeared to be helping them, for there was a palpable improvement in the mood around the house after the meetings.

But it wasn't just in the meetings where Mr Greengrass was making his presence known: during every dinner, he was to be found deep in conversation with Mr Weasley, Sirius, and Bill Weasley. Lupin, Shacklebolt, and Tonks would join them too, if they were around for the meals. The discussions seemed interesting enough, if the other Order members' expressions were anything to go by, even though Harry couldn't hear what they were about. He had contemplated using the Extendable Ears for a few of them, but that meant he would only have half-baked information with virtually no context – all in all, not the best combination. Besides, with Dumbledore having agreed to share what he could, there was no reason for him to ferret around for more details.

Astoria and Daphne had ingratiated themselves the most, primarily on account of their anticipated extended stay at Grimmauld Place. The two sisters pitched in to clean the last few rooms of Grimmauld Place, such that the house now looked more habitable than when Harry had first arrived. Astoria, in particular, was the livelier and outgoing of the two – she had the knack of making even the dreariest cleaning jobs fun and exciting. What endeared her most to the others, however – and by others, specifically Ginny and the Weasley twins – was her devious streak, and her love for playing a prank. Fred and George appeared to have taken her under their wing and made her an unofficial protégé; it was not uncommon now to see the three of them talking in quiet tones, doubtless, in Harry's opinion, planning the next big joke on Grimmauld Place's other residents.

If he was to be extremely selfish, though, Harry was exceptionally glad that Daphne was staying behind, instead of going with her parents. He'd missed corresponding with her ever since she'd told him about her trip to Lyon, yes, but he hadn't realised, until that week, how much he'd actually missed her. Her presence seemed to have filled something in his life – a hole which he hadn't realised even existed. Quite predictably, his joy at having her around was noticeable in his uplifted mood – a fact which didn't escape Mr Greengrass' attention.

'Very good,' praised Mr Greengrass, as during the final session of his Occlumency training, Harry was at last able to achieve some semblance of mental calmness. He flushed a bit at the praise, but acknowledged that he still had a long way to go.

'The fact that you are aware of your progress, and what lies ahead, tells me that you are moving in the right direction, Harry,' said Mr Greengrass. 'Most wizards do not achieve this level of calmness even if they practised for more than a month.'

Harry beamed at the compliment. 'Can I have another go, right now?'

'Not just yet,' said Mr Greengrass. 'I want to discuss your schedule before I return to Greengrass Manor.'

'Oh,' said Harry, slightly disappointed at not getting another try at it, but also because of the reminder that Mr Greengrass was leaving.

'I will obviously not be able to monitor your daily progress while I'm away. While I'm sure that you will be able to continue practising during this time, it would be better for you, and for me as well, if there was someone supervising you, and possibly guiding you on the next steps, should you reach that stage.'

'Erm…alright,' said Harry, figuring that there wasn't much fault in Mr Greengrass' reasoning. In fact, Harry thought he might have asked Mr Greengrass about it himself, after the session that day. 'Will it be Professor Dumbledore?'

'Not Albus, no,' said Mr Greengrass with a shake of his head, 'he is too busy with his work for the Order, and his headmaster duties. Plus, given the reason why we're training you in Occlumency in the first place, having Albus close to you would be detrimental, to say the least.'

Harry nodded, recognising the logic in his words.

'That's why I'm going to ask Daphne to supervise you.'

'What?'

What?

'Daphne is a fairly skilled Occlumens – her mother and I have been training her since her third year at Hogwarts,' said Mr Greengrass with a little bit of pride in his voice. 'Occlumency shields are particularly useful when dealing with Dementors: they help you to suppress your worse memories, while enabling you to access the happy ones with significant ease, thereby producing a Patronus much quicker than you'd normally expect. When we heard that the Ministry was stationing those foul creatures at Hogwarts, it was the least we could do to help Daphne.'

Harry thought this was rather useful information – he hadn't really contemplated employing Occlumency in that manner, but it somehow made sense. Dementors forced you to relive your worst memories, but suppressing those memories under a mental barrier would probably soften the impact on your mind that a Dementor unleased upon it.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he dimly wondered what memories Daphne would have not wanted to relive in the presence of Dementors.

'While she has not had much success with the Patronus Charm, she has only improved in Occlumency since then – she takes this quite seriously – and will be a good guide for you on this.'

Harry nodded again. If anything, this gave him the opportunity to spend more time with her, even if he was to be practising during that time.

'It is often said that a happy mind is easier to practice with, so I'm quite certain you will not have problems while Daphne helps you.'

It took a few moments for Mr Greengrass' statement to register with Harry; when it did, he looked away from the man, feeling a fierce blush creeping up his neck. He was sure his face was red as well. He looked back up at Mr Greengrass, expecting a stern glare, but was rather surprised to see a smile playing across his face.

'Isabella and I have noticed what the two of you share, Harry,' he said, pulling a chair towards him and sitting down. 'We saw it when you two entered the dining room that evening – she couldn't stop holding your hand, could she?'

Harry made to protest, to offer some explanation, but Mr Greengrass waved him off.

'I am not worried about my daughter – Merlin knows this is the happiest I've seen her in a long time. You two are just like how Izzy and I were at Hogwarts, or even how James and Lily were during their seventh year.'

Harry, who had been trying to avoid Mr Greengrass' eyes due to his embarrassment, looked at the man at the mention of his parents. 'You knew my Mum and Dad?'

'Not really, no,' said Mr Greengrass. 'Izzy and I were in Slytherin, so our social circles hardly ran together. They were Head Boy and Girl during my sixth year, however, and as a prefect, I had to interact with them quite often.' He smiled at Harry. 'It didn't take a genius to know that the two of them together just made…sense. They fit.'

Harry felt a warm glow suffuse inside his chest – hearing others talk about his parents always made him happy and proud, but this…this was something else, altogether.

'I have seen the way Daphne looks at you, Harry, and I know that look. She believes in you, even though she may not realise how much, just yet. You are a good man, Harry Potter. Don't give this up.'

For the second time that evening, Harry smiled at his mentor. He was quite aware that Mr Greengrass had effectively approved his – was it a relationship? Harry didn't know. He had, quite honestly, expected some sort of resistance to the entire idea from her parents. The thought of resistance, however, reminded him of the inevitable backlash that they were bound to face once back at Hogwarts, and his smile faltered slightly.

'What is it?' asked Mr Greengrass.

'It's just…well, I'm in Gryffindor,' said Harry, 'and she's in Slytherin. I don't want her to face any issue in her house, especially since it's me…'

He trailed off, but to his continued astonishment, Mr Greengrass seemed…proud? And amused, too, for some reason.

'You Gryffindors have a streak of nobility that borders on foolishness,' he said. 'And I know you mean well. But answer this, Harry: is it worth it? If it is, you have nothing to worry about, and neither would she.'

Harry knew the answer to that in a heartbeat – Daphne was most certainly worth it, without a doubt. And in that instant, he understood what Mr Greengrass said – if it was worth it, he had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.


Harry didn't tell Daphne about his conversation with her father – he didn't feel he could explain that Mr Greengrass had approved him and Daphne together, when he didn't know himself if they were together in the first place. He thought it would make sense to explain it after they had at least discussed what they were, but opportunities to do so were relatively thin on the ground. Mr and Mrs Greengrass' departure from Grimmauld Place also drove home a number of hard truths, none of which seemed to be helpful for Harry.

There was now barely a week to go for his hearing at the Ministry, and the butterflies were coming back to him in full force. He was finding it difficult to distract himself from thoughts of it going all wrong, and of him being expelled from Hogwarts He had tried reassuring himself by reading through the defence notes and points he and Hermione had prepared for the hearing, but each argument seemed extremely feeble in his head every time he re-read them. How was he going to get through this at all?

His friends had suggested reading something else – the Black family library had a truly astonishing collection of rare and mysterious books – but even priceless duelling and spell books couldn't divert his mind. Hermione had pitched the idea of finishing his homework – he still had his Transfiguration essay to finish, after all – but the words seemed a million miles away when he went through his textbook. It didn't help that a small part of mind – the pessimistic part, unfortunately – kept reminding him that there wouldn't be any point in doing this if he was ultimately expelled. Fred and George called it a case of 'plain old exam nerves' and offered to help by showing him some of their products, but even Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, as fascinating as they were, didn't have that much of an appeal.

He would have thrown himself into doing work of some sort, but with the house almost completely cleaned up for inhabitation, there wasn't much left to do for any of them. The lack of work was further compounded by the fact that, to everyone's absolute bewilderment, Kreacher was being extremely helpful to them. No one really knew how the volte-face had come about, but the general understanding was that Dumbledore had spoken to him and had offered something to him in return for being helpful and courteous to the occupants of the house.

Harry somehow suspected that this wasn't entirely the case – he had a strong feeling that it had something to do with an item that Kreacher had recovered from the mounds of rubbish the Order had deemed fit to throw out, and which Dumbledore had subsequently taken from him. Even Sirius, who had been extremely disdainful towards Kreacher, had had a change of heart, and was now treating him with unmistakeable respect.

Either way, Harry didn't think it concerned him too much – at least he now knew that the ancient house-elf wouldn't sneak into his room and peer at him in the dead of the night.

Speaking of house-elves, Harry was also worried that Dobby was yet to return from his reconnaissance mission of Iris Parkinson, Terence Higgs, and Adrian Pucey. He mentioned this to Ron and Hermione, but they seemed surprisingly unruffled by the delay.

'He might have wanted to make sure that they were absolutely safe,' Ron offered by way of an explanation. 'Or he may still be searching – we don't really know where they are, so he doesn't really have much to work with.'

The thought that Dobby could still be searching did not comfort Harry at all.

His anxiety translating into fear and irritation, it was all he could do to stop himself from snapping at anyone who meaninglessly tried to improve his mood. Didn't they understand how serious this hearing was? Didn't they realise how much an adverse verdict could hurt him – the possibility that he would never become a fully-fledged wizard? That he would never be allowed to do magic, ever? That he could never go back to Hogwarts – his home? How could they possibly deign to believe that it was just a technicality, a simple matter of talking it over and getting everything sorted? Why couldn't they understand the magnitude of the situation?

It finally came to a head during an Occlumency practice session, three days before his hearing. True to his word to Mr Greengrass, he had not ceased his practises, but his mood seemed to have caused him to regress so much, that he could barely focus for thirty seconds to calm his mind down. As Mr Greengrass had deemed him fit enough to start the next level of his Occlumency training, this came as a huge blow – and one that Harry hardly needed.

Daphne's supervision of his practices hadn't helped in the way he and Mr Greengrass had anticipated. She had tried easing him into the calming process every evening, but he almost always ended up doing it himself, and often without success. This frustrated him, and despite her patient exterior, he could tell Daphne was becoming annoyed as well. It resulted in the entirely unwanted cycle of getting upset because he couldn't calm his mind, but not being able to do so because he was upset in the first place.

Finally, it seemed as though Daphne had had enough.

'Okay, what is your problem?' she demanded, standing up from where she'd joined him on the floor and glaring at him.

'What?' said Harry, staring at her defiantly, and with no small amount of irritation himself.

'You've been in a terrible mood for the last few days, and whatever I say or do seems to be annoying you,' she said. 'I don't understand why you're so bothered about the hearing –'

'Well, of course you don't, do you?' Harry fired back, also standing up. 'No one seems to understand that things could go wrong –'

'But Harry, they can't go wrong –'

'And how do you know that?' asked Harry, his voice increasing in volume. 'What makes you so certain that it will be fine?'

'I – well – I obviously can't say for certain –'

'Exactly!' said Harry, almost yelling now. 'So don't expect me to not worry about it, because I will, and because there's a good chance it'll all go pear-shaped –'

'Harry, you're being ridiculous –'

'Ridiculous?!' he half-exclaimed, half-laughed in disbelief. 'I'm being ridiculous now, am I? That's funny, I don't see you worrying about whether I'll be in Hogwarts next term, or worrying about facing Voldemort –'

Daphne winced at the name, but Harry was past the point of caring; it was as though the dam he'd built to keep his emotions in check was now cracking, letting rivulets stream out incessantly, with reckless abandon. He was no longer concerned about making sense, either – everything just wanted to get out.

'– can't seem to be bothered about the fact that I might be expelled, and that I'd probably never use magic again, and that I might never see you again –'

'Of course I care!' shouted Daphne, her eyes filling with tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. 'Of course I'm worried about you, you prat! I just want to believe that you'll win, because quite frankly, I can't bear to think about the alternative!'

'Which is?'

'Which is you and I could never be together, ever!'

Harry stared at Daphne, her eyes still moist, her chest heaving with the quick breaths she was taking to control her fury. More than anything, she had said two things that had penetrated his anger-filled mind: she hoped he would win – probably not just at the hearing alone; and that she wanted to be with him. Together.

Without thinking about it, he crossed the five paces that separated them, pulled her towards him, closed his eyes, and kissed her.

He could feel her surprise and shock through her lips, but she soon melted into it, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her. Their lips moved together, showcasing a dance of desperation, of need and desire – it was by no means sensual at first, but it spoke volumes of what their hearts had yearned to say, but their mouths never could in absolute words.

After a while, it became softer, gentler – Harry became aware of the sinfully soft texture of her lips, and the way her kiss made him feel as though he was on cloud nine – the luckiest bloke in the world. Her hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck, although his stayed around her waist; he was now partially aware that they were finally kissing, and he didn't want to ruin it by doing anything improper. He did, however, permit himself to gently nibble at her bottom lip, eliciting a moan from her that sent thrills up his spine.

Soon, the desire for fresh air consumed them, and they broke apart, Harry leaving one last kiss on her lips before leaning his forehead against hers. They stood that way for a good minute, panting slightly from the exertion, and knowledge, of their first ever kiss.

'That was…' began Daphne, evidently lost for words.

'Yeah,' agreed Harry. There was no way he, or anyone for that matter, could define that. It wasn't mind-blowing, toe-curling, or any of those adjectives that could possibly come to mind. But it just was.

'I won't leave you, Harry,' whispered Daphne. 'I won't ever give up on you, or us. But you have to understand – things will be okay.'

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He could feel a stinging sensation in the back of his eyes – tears of guilt at his behaviour towards everyone over the last few days, and over shouting at her just then. She must have noticed it, however, for she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him again, lovingly this time.

'Don't feel guilty, Harry,' she murmured. 'You have nothing to feel guilty about.'

'But I yelled at you,' he said, shamefacedly. 'And I've been a right git to everyone else –'

'They'll understand – we all do,' she said. 'Don't beat yourself up over it, please.'

'I'm sorry, Daph,' he choked out, unable to stop the tears now. 'I'm sorry about it all – Cassius, the hearing, Voldemort –'

'Oh, Harry,' she said, holding him closer as he finally allowed his emotions to break free – feelings that he hadn't even known swirling with him, waiting for a release. The shoulder of her t-shirt ended up getting soaked, but she waved off his sniffled apologies.

'Don't apologise for anything – none of this is your fault. I have faith in you, and that you will win. Just don't ever doubt yourself.'

'Not now I won't,' said Harry, and Daphne gave a watery chuckle.

'Exactly. And, Harry?'

'Hmm?'

'Just remember, whatever happens, we'll all be there for you. Because, one way or another, there is always an after. And we're sure as hell going to be there in it.'

Harry stared at her, a determined expression on her tear-streaked face, her sapphire-blue eyes shining with affection and conviction, and quite emphatically concluded that there was no way she could be more beautiful than that. It got her to laugh – a musical sound that he decided must be heard more often – before he kissed her again.

'Thank you,' he said, after they broke apart. Daphne just smiled at him, silently resting her head against his chest as they hugged each other in the middle of the drawing room.

She was right, he thought – one way or another, there would always be an after.


Author's Note: The line that Daphne tells Harry – "Because one way or another, there is always an after" is something that my really good friend told me when I had some anxiety issues a few days back. It helped me immensely, and I thought it would be rather appropriate to include as a something she says to help Harry deal with his own worries. Thank you so much, Aradhana – this chapter is for you! :)


To be continued…