Quick note: This story stretches to the end of 7th year. We're not finished yet, folks!
Daphne paced back and forth inside the Room. She'd made it all the way here, but surely could not risk going to Slughorn's party. She couldn't leave here until she had the cure.
"You always knew it would come to this. Calm down, he'll be here any minute and you're not even ready."
It was true. Her hair was a mess, and she didn't even have any makeup on. The dress she intended to wear was slung haphazardly over the mirror in the corner, but Daphne couldn't bring herself to prepare. With the moment now upon her, she was completely paralyzed.
"You're right. Wish me luck."
And with that, she shut the lid on her trunk and began to get ready. Unbuttoning her school uniform, she set it aside before unzipping her skirt and stepping out of it. Mechanically, she folded her clothes and placed them on a nearby chair before she made her way to the shower.
Crouched beneath the steaming spray of water, Daphne hugged her knees and sobbed silently into one hand. She couldn't stop thinking about her sister, about Astoria lying there in agony, waiting for her to return. How she'd feel when their mother told her Daphne refused to come home.
Maybe… maybe she should have gone home. If Harry gave his blood at the start of the next term, rather than the end of this one, would it really make such a difference?
No. This had gone on too long, all of it. Daphne was hanging by a thread, the stack of lies she'd assembled teetering on the brink of collapse. It was truly now or never.
There was a knock at the door. He was here. "Daphne? Are you still getting ready?"
She cleared her throat, but could still hear how hoarse her voice was. "I'll be right there."
'Snap out of it!' Now wasn't the time to look desperate. She had to be cool, collected. She needed to be prepared, have explanations and justifications at the ready. Everything she'd gone through for the last year was for this moment.
But try as she might, staring at her own reflection in the mirror, Daphne could think of nothing except Astoria. It was as though every minute that passed brought with it another hammerblow, the grief pouring over her in waves. Would she ever hear Astoria's voice again? See her smile? Hold her hand, talk about their day?
Her eyes were puffy, swollen and red-rimmed. She looked pale, all the more so because her hair hung limply, dripping onto her bare shoulders.
Another knock sounded at the door. "Daph? Do you think you'll be much longer? We're gonna be late…"
Harry wouldn't refuse her. He was in love with her! He was a good man, he would make the right choice, right? Daphne wrapped a towel around herself and left the bathroom.
"Oh!" He flushed, seeing her emerge in nothing but a towel, and she watched his eyes trace a slow path from her feet, up her legs, lingering on her hips and breasts. When his gaze finally completed their journey and landed on her face, though, the transparent desire vanished from his features. "What's wrong? What happened?"
"Nothing, I-" Try as she might, the words wouldn't come.
"You're upset!" He hurried to her side, carefully wrapping one arm around her, using his hand to tip her chin to face him. "Tell me what's wrong."
His concern was genuine, almost frantic. Daphne stared mutely into his eyes, seeing herself reflected in the lenses of his glasses. She felt exposed, and not because she stood before him in only a towel. "I'm sorry."
"Why? Talk to me, Daphne."
"I can't go to the party."
"Why not?"
"I just- I can't deal with it. Not tonight. I'm sorry," she said again, like if she apologised enough everything would be okay.
"You think I care about the Slug Club? Just tell me what's wrong, please!"
Harry put his hands on her shoulders, droplets of water from her hair sliding down his wrists. "I'm scared," she whispered, unable to tear her gaze away from his. "Things have been- being with you has been so…"
"Hey," Harry leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to each of her eyelids, and only then did Daphne realise she was still crying. "It's okay. Whatever it is, we'll get through it, together, alright?" He leaned his forehead against her, and she took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, his presence, his love.
"Harry." Daphne took a step back to put him at arm's length, wiping her eyes and brushing away the bangs plastered to her forehead. "We've been good together, haven't we? I make you happy, don't I?"
"Yes," he said, watching her closely with a peculiar look on his face.
"I want you to know I'm never going to give up on you. No matter what happens, I'll stay by your side. Not even You-Know-" she paused, shaking her head and then trying again. "Not even Voldemort can drive me away. I need you to know that."
"Daphne…" he whispered, and the look he gave her contained so much love, so much pride, all her doubts were erased. If Harry believed in her, loved her to this extent, there was no way she'd fail.
"I can't go to the party because tomorrow we're leaving. The last few months have been- it's been all I wanted, to be with you, to be happy together. But- out there, what's coming-" she stumbled over her words, but Harry nodded like he understood. "I need you to do something for me."
"Anything," he whispered.
Daphne took two steps backwards, towards the bed, then undid the knot and allowed her towel to drop to the floor. "Show me you love me."
She lost herself in his arms. If she were drowning, before, beneath the weight of her burdens and fears, making love with Harry was like a first breath after breaking the surface.
Maybe he could tell how much she needed this, needed his love. Either way, Harry wasn't hesitant or unsure. His passion for her chased away the looming dread, stealing Daphne away from the spectres that had haunted her for years. There was nothing outside of this room, this bed; no world outside of the shelter of his arms, the tangle of their limbs, the sounds of their pleasure.
And when it was over, with the weight of him resting atop her, Daphne knew without a shadow of doubt she'd never regret falling in love with Harry Potter. She lay beneath him, feeling his warm breath against her neck, running her hands through his sweat-slick hair. A sense of completeness settled over her.
"Harry," she said softly, meeting his eyes, their brilliant green unfettered by his glasses. "I want this. I want forever with you."
They shared a lengthy stare, stretching on for more than a minute, in total silence but for their heavy breathing. At last, he smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "Forever."
"Really? You mean-"
"Yes." He slid off of her, laying beside her. "I'll do it."
She sat up, leaning over him with one hand over his heart. "I can prepare the ritual over break. I just need the ingredients."
Harry's eyes were half-closed, looking lethargic as he stared up at her. "Don't I need to be there? How are we going to- to… hand-fast each other when we're hundreds of miles apart?"
"I only need a part of you. Just some of your blood."
His reaction was immediate. "What?" Harry pushed himself up on his elbows, eyes now wide open.
Daphne awkwardly slung her leg over his waist, straddling him and leaning in close. "I know what you're thinking, what happened the last time someone took your blood. I would never do anything to hurt you, you know that."
"I know, but-"
She shush-ed him, then leaned forward to kiss him softly. "Do this for me, Harry. For us."
Absolute terror flashed across his face, and Daphne knew he was fighting down the memories of the last time someone used him in a ritual, but then he closed his eyes and schooled his features. When he looked at her again, his face was a mask of control. "Alright."
She hopped off of him, throwing open her trunk and ignoring the look Elysant immediately speared her with, reaching past the portrait for the silver knife and the three empty vials from her potions kit she'd prepared for this moment. Slamming the lid shut, she returned to him in the bed.
"Do you want to…?" She held the knife out, but he just shook his head and looked away.
"You do it."
She lifted his left arm and instructed him to keep it raised. The knife slid into his flesh with almost no resistance, blood immediately welling up from the vertical cut.
Daphne set the blade aside, picking up the first vial and holding it beneath where the trails of crimson liquid began to drip; slowly at first, then a more steady flow.
She filled the first and most of the second in this way, but by the time she reached for the third, the amount had slowed. While his wound was still weeping blood, it wasn't flowing at the same rate.
"Harry?"
"Are you done?"
"Almost. But… I'm going to have to make another cut."
He grimaced, and Daphne waited until he gave a short nod of consent before she moved. Picking up her wand off the nightstand, she muttered a quick "Episkey" to seal the first cut before taking the blade once more and sawing into his flesh a second time. The last vial swiftly filled, and Daphne healed the second cut.
This was a messy business. Her hands were sticky, coated with his blood up to her wrists, and the sheets around them were rust-coloured, stained with drying blood. It seemed like for every vial, an equal amount of the warm, thick liquid escaped onto her or the bedding.
Harry was pale, nauseous. "All done?"
"Yes. Thank you. Thank you so much," she whispered fervently, ensuring all three vials were properly sealed.
"That was… a lot more than I expected." Be it the fading adrenaline or blood loss, Harry appeared lethargic and slow.
"Just rest now, you did great."
"Okay. Daphne? I love you."
"I love you, too. Just relax, baby. It's okay."
Daphne forced herself to stay still alongside him, even though she practically vibrated with urgency. Harry drifted off to sleep in ten minutes or so. She counted to five hundred before she actually got out of bed, moving carefully to not rouse him. Once she was on her feet, though, Daphne hurriedly threw on her blouse, pulling up her skirt and zipping it before stepping into a pair of ballet flats.
With the three vials clasped securely in her hand, she carefully opened the lid of her trunk, moving the portrait aside to seek out the goblet Dobby had procured for her earlier in the term. Elysant gave her a once-over, propped up against the lid.
"You've succeeded!" she quietly enthused.
After looking over her shoulder to ensure Harry was still asleep, she nodded. "Yes, but I need to go. I've got to get this to my sister."
Her ancestor nodded, an excited smile lighting up her elegant features. The goblet in hand, Daphne closed the trunk and hurried to the door.
Professor Snape would let her use his Floo, she was sure of it. Just a quick trip to her home to save Astoria, and then she'd return to Harry's side. Daphne had decided, while sitting there and draining his blood, to tell him about the blood malediction and the cure he'd given them. Maybe there was a way he could visit her from the Weasleys, to actually see the little girl whose life he'd saved.
Yes! It would be perfect! Her parents would be forced to acknowledge their relationship when confronted with their daughter's saviour. A debt like that could not go unpaid; the Greengrass family's resources could then be marshalled to find help for Harry, to buy time for him to prepare to fulfill the prophecy.
She'd spent so long, so many weeks and months desperate not to fail, terrified of being exposed, fighting to win Harry's heart with a single-minded focus, she never gave any serious thought to what would come next. Her exuberance grew with every step, going over all the ways this moment would help both her and Harry.
He'd saved Astoria, and now Daphne would save him. This is how it was meant to be, she realised, pounding on Snape's door. It was perfect, a better ending than she'd ever thought possible.
"Miss Greengrass?" Snape blinked, going from half-asleep to high-alert as he looked her over. "What, in Merlin's name…?"
"I need your Floo, Professor. I've got to get home."
He stepped aside, apparently too stunned to question her, gesturing towards the hearth in his quarters. Daphne ran over, fumbling to hold the goblet under one arm while she threw a pinch of powder into the fire. She called out her address and stepped into the green flames.
Like Hogwarts, the Greengrass home was still and silent. She crept into Astoria's room, dropping to her knees beside the bed. Her sister was thin, skeletal; devoid of colour and vitality. If it weren't for the shallow rise and fall of her chest, Daphne would have mistaken her for a corpse.
With shaky hands, she stabilised the goblet on the floor, holding the base secure. Flicking the stopper off the first vial, she drained the thick, cooling liquid into it and repeated that task twice more until the cup was filled to the brim. Elevating Astoria's light, fragile neck, Daphne opened her mouth and slowly poured in the blood, pausing to occasionally rub her throat to force a swallow.
When she finished, she set the empty goblet aside and perched on the edge of the bed. "Astoria?" she whispered, lightly shaking her shoulder. "Tori? Wake up, sweetie!"
Daphne cast a 'Lumos', looking closely to observe any changes. There were none. There was no change in her sister.
"Who- Daphne?! What are you doing here?" The wards must have alerted her father, she realised, for he stood in the doorway with his own wand lit.
She stayed focused on her sister, watching to see an effect, waiting for the healing to begin. Nothing was happening.
Her father approached, then gasped. "Oh gods, Daphne!" He rushed to her side, grabbing hold of her and running one hand down her face. "You're hurt! What's happened?"
"Cecil, what's going on?" Her mother came in next, and turned on the lights in the room then screamed.
Daphne was confused, but when she caught sight of her own reflection in the window she understood. Her hands were coated with dried blood up to the wrist, and there were streaks of the crimson liquid on her face from where she'd brushed her hair out of her eyes during the collection. Her school uniform had smears on it where she'd buttoned it up.
She looked like she'd killed someone. Ironic, given that she'd actually just saved her sister's life.
"She's better now. I've done it. Astoria's going to be okay."
Her father had by now discovered the empty goblet and vials at her side. "What have you done, Daphne?"
"I saved her," she said, the relief at everything finally being over suddenly weighing her down. It was the middle of the night, and she was exhausted.
"Daffy, honey, your sister's not going to wake up. The healers administered the sedatives hours ago. I'm sorry, you're too late," her mother said.
'Of course! She's potioned!' That must be it! "Get the healers here, then. Have them wake her up, she's better now!"
Her parents exchanged a heavy look, and after a few moments, her father said, "Astoria's not going to get better. Waking her would just be cruel. We're not going to force her to go through that."
"You're not listening to me!" she cried. "Get on the Floo, do what you have to, but she has to wake up!"
Her mother, heedless of the bloodstains, approached and wrapped her arms around her. "I can't imagine the regret you feel at not being here. I wish you'd made a different choice, too, but-" Ava choked, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. "You'll have to make your peace with that on your own."
"What did you do, Daphne? What is all this blood?"
She struggled against her mother's hold. "I told you, I cured her! If you'd just call the healers, they'll tell you themselves!"
"What cure did you give her?"
"JUST CALL THE DAMN HEALERS!" she screamed.
"Cecil, go."
"What? You can't be serious-"
"I am. Go, summon them." Her father looked at them both with a baffled expression but gave in and left the room. "Now then, you're going to tell me what's going on."
"The malediction, I discovered how to break it. It was a curse on our bloodline, put there almost five hundred years ago."
"How did you discover this?"
"The portrait I found. Elysant, it all began with her."
"Wait, she told you? Why did she keep it a secret for so long? The Greengrasses spent centuries trying to discover the reason, why didn't she ever volunteer the information before now?" Daphne explained the hidden compartment, how she unknowingly stumbled upon the painting's secret. "And the cure?"
Before Daphne could answer, her father came back, accompanied by another man dressed in pyjamas. "-but please, if you would give her another look."
The healer grumbled under his breath, but nonetheless drew his wand and began to cast a complicated diagnostic charm. After a few seconds, he turned to her father. "She is just as she was when I left earlier."
"What?!" 'That can't be!' "Try again!"
The healer sighed. "Young lady, I can assure you-"
"Just try it again! Look harder!"
Her father cleared his throat. "It can't hurt, can it?"
"Very well," the healer said, and cast the same spell again, followed by a series of different ones. "I'm sorry. There's no change in my prognosis. Her body will last beyond the new year; two months, perhaps."
"I understand. Thank you for coming so late." Cecil produced a heavy bag of gold, passing it to the healer who left without a farewell. "Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?"
"It's not- not possible," Daphne mumbled. "I did everything I was supposed to. It should have worked."
"Ava?" her father asked expectantly, and her mother looked helplessly at him over Daphne's shoulder.
"Teensy," she called out, and their house elf appeared with a pop! "Prepare some tea for us in the parlour. Come, Daphne, let's go."
She allowed her parents to guide her to the other room, to take a seat on the sofa, still in shock. Why- how could it not cure her? What had she done wrong? Daphne ran through everything that happened in her mind while her mother repeated what she'd told her to her father.
"Now, finish your story."
"The malediction was- it was revenge against an ancestor's transgressions. Elysant's betrayal. She spurned a contracted betrothal, and her suitor's punishment has followed us ever since."
"And you thought you'd found a cure? How?"
Too stunned to couch her answer, Daphne's answer was simple. "He- someone from his family had to fall in love with a Greengrass and freely give their blood to end the curse."
Her mother's hands flew to her mouth, letting out a horrified gasp. "Gods above! Potter- he's the one!"
Daphne nodded. There was no hiding it any longer.
"You mean- that's why…" Her father was slower to catch on. "Why wouldn't you tell us?!"
"I couldn't! There was too much at stake, I couldn't let you interfere!"
Her father was incensed, leaping to his feet and pacing angrily through the parlour. "That- that little- I'll wring his neck with my bare hands-"
"Calm down, Cecil!" Daphne glanced up to see her mother's reaction, but Ava didn't meet her eyes. Instead, she brushed Daphne's hair over her shoulder, closely examining her daughter. Daphne did the same, blushing as she noticed how many buttons on her blouse she'd skipped or misaligned. "I need to speak with her alone. Go and pace somewhere else."
"Ava, if you think-" he started, but when her mother glared at him, he grudgingly fell silent. "I guess I'll go get dressed."
Once he was gone, Ava turned back to her. "So. Do you want to tell me what happened?"
"It should have worked, Mum. I- I did everything I was supposed to." Daphne would have thought she'd run out of tears by now, but she couldn't stop herself from crying once more. "I'm so sorry. I tried so hard, I didn't- I wanted so badly for it to work!"
"Oh, Daphne. I know, honey, I know. You're not the first girl to be deceived by a boy-"
"No!" she interrupted. "He's not like that. He doesn't know anything about the malediction, Harry loves me!"
"I'm sure he told you that," Ava said knowingly. "Men will say anything to entice a woman into bed-"
"You're wrong."
"This is what we tried to protect you from. Someone like him, that thinks he's entitled to whatever he wants. I'm not surprised he could trick you in this way."
"Mum, you don't know anything about him," she said quietly, feeling utterly defeated. None of this was supposed to happen. Her family was supposed to be overjoyed, grateful to Harry, supportive of their relationship. Astoria was supposed to be better.
Why was this happening?
"Are you okay? He didn't… hurt you, did he?"
"No!"
Her mother was quiet for a moment. "And Potter? Is he- do we need to prepare for reprisals for what you've done?"
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Daphne, you're covered in his blood."
Harry. She left him there, asleep. Was he okay? She'd closed the wounds, but what if he was sick? No one knew he was in the Room, if he was unwell, there was no one to summon help! "I've got to go. I need to get back."
"Does your father need to call our solicitor? Are you in trouble?"
Daphne stood, her back to her mother, staring into the fireplace. "He doesn't know anything about this. I told him-" she squeezed her eyes shut as a fresh wave of pain washed over in an avalanche of emotion. "I told him I needed the blood for a hand-fasting ritual. We… we want to be together, Mum."
"Still? Even after tonight proved his feelings are a lie?"
"They're not," she insisted. "They can't be."
"Daphne-"
"Please stop. Can you just stop? I- I already failed Astoria when she needed me most. I can't do this with you, not now. I'll see you tomorrow, at the Platform."
Her mother didn't try to stop her when she activated the Floo and called out her destination.
Snape was waiting when she emerged from the Floo. "Well?"
"It didn't work. It should have, but it didn't."
He pondered her words, then said, "Tell me more about this curse." Daphne repeated the story for the second time that evening, and he listened intently. "I see."
"What is it?" she asked, too tired and drained to muster an energetic response.
"The Dark Arts are so named for a reason. They are imprecise, unpredictable. It may be that over the last five hundred years, the magic of the curse has changed, evolved. Maybe there is no cure, and Potter's ancestor merely dangled the promise of one for no reason other than cruelty. Or…" he trailed off.
"What?"
He gave her a level stare. "Or perhaps there is even less of his mother in Potter than I thought."
'Fuck you' she thought, but instead said, "Goodnight, Professor Snape."
"Just a moment." Then, almost grudgingly, "Is Potter still alive?"
"Yes. I need to go."
"Very well," he said, before scourgify-ing her hands and clothes. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Miss Greengrass."
Daphne nodded and left, plodding up the stairs. She ran across Mrs. Norris once, but saw no sign of Filch or any prefects during her journey to the seventh floor.
She felt like her world just ended. Despite her mother's words she knew, was positive that Harry really loved her. So why didn't it work? Could it be like Snape hypothesized, that the solution to break the malediction had changed?
Or maybe she and Elysant had been wrong from the beginning. 'A goblet of blood, freely given'. Nothing about drinking it. What if- what if the method of delivery was the problem? A sliver of hope, a minute glimmer of optimism kindled within her.
She paced back and forth, thoughts racing while she summoned the Room's entrance. Maybe there was still a chance! If she told Harry the truth, if he would come with her to St. Mungo's, maybe the healers could work out a way to save her sister-
"Incarcerous."
Daphne fell backwards against the wall, staring straight ahead at Harry, wearing only his trousers. A wrapped gift sat next to him on the bed, his wand in one hand and a potions vial in the other.
In front of him, her trunk was open, the back of Elysant's frame visible above the lid.
"Is it true?" he asked. "You were- you were just using me to save your sister?"
"How- what are you doing with my things?"
"So it is yours?" Harry looked like he was going to be sick, collapsing to sit on the bed, then he flung the potions vial at her. The Amortentia that Snape gave to her all those months ago shattered against the wall by her side. "You've been dosing me?!"
"No!" she shouted her denial, but he put his head in his hands, not meeting her eyes. "I didn't use it, I just…"
"Just what? Just lied to me about EVERYTHING? Your accomplice was only too happy to tell me all about what a naive idiot I've been."
"Elysant? You can't trust her, she hates your family, hates you-"
He stalked over to her, sparks spitting from the wand held tightly in his hand. "Then you tell me. Did you ever even care about me at all?"
"Yes! I love you!"
He shivered, like the very sound of the words set his skin crawling. "What about your family? The way they treat you?" She tried to avert her eyes, but he grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look at him. "How did you know about what happened to me at the Dursleys? How long have you been planning this?"
"Harry, please, I can explain, if you'd just let me."
He let her go, stumbling backwards. "Oh my god. And we, tonight- you fucked me for my blood?"
This was- it wasn't possible. He couldn't find out, not like this, not like this! "I'm so sorry, Harry. I never wanted to hurt you, I love you-"
"STOP SAYING THAT!"
"It's true!"
"I can't- I can't even-" Harry's rage was palpable, terrifying. There was a hint of ozone in the air, a crackling tension that was unmistakable.
"Please! I made so many mistakes, but being with you isn't one of them. I can't lose you, please!"
But Harry had turned his back on her, walking back to the bed. "Is there anything else?"
"No," Elysant said. "You know the truth, now. No one could really love someone like you. Not with the blood that runs through your veins."
Her barbs were clearly posturing, intended to twist the knife a bit deeper, but Harry looked stricken nonetheless.
"Love…" he whispered, sinking onto the bed once more, shock written all over his face. "I'm going to die."
"Harry?" He ignored her, vacantly staring at nothing for several heartbeats. At last, he composed himself, dressing and gathering his things, obviously preparing to leave. "Don't go! You can't leave like this, not without hearing me out!"
He glanced at her and when their eyes met, his look was one of total apathy. He stepped over her body, his hex still in place, and closed the door behind him.
"That," Elysant spoke up after several seconds, "was delightful."
"Why? Why would you do this?" The portrait wasn't even facing her, but Daphne knew she could hear her question.
"Because of everything I've said from the beginning. The Potters ruined my life, they killed my husband and my child and- what, dozens, maybe hundreds of our family members! And when this Dark Lord kills that boy, he will go to the grave knowing he was unloved and alone!"
"You stupid bitch, the cure didn't work! Astoria is still dying, and you've ruined any chance at saving her!"
"I don't care," she said simply. "Saving her was never going to bring back Sedgwick, or my child, or give me the life Harlan stole from me."
"I'm going to kill you," Daphne seethed, but the portrait just laughed.
"You're too late, you foolish child. I've already won."
She was right. Even so, when Harry's spell faded and her restraints faded away, she burned the portrait, maintaining the spell until nothing but the brass shell remained, warped from the heat of her incendio. Daphne turned her wand on her trunk, melting away all of the potions, dresses, all of the tools of her deception.
Eyes and throat burning from the smoke, she sat heavily down on the bed. Something dug into her leg, and Daphne reached down to find the wrapped gift, the affixed label bearing her name. A birthday gift. Harry must have been trying to sneak it into her trunk when he encountered Elysant.
With numb fingers, she carefully unwrapped the paper. Inside of a box from Dervish and Banges, Hogsmeade's jewelry shop, was an exquisitely crafted silver chain, capped with a sapphire-studded pendant.
It was beautiful. As she lifted it out, though, a scrap of parchment fell into her lap. A note from Harry. Daphne picked it up.
To a love so powerful it leaves its own mark. To the woman who saved me from fate itself.
Alone, amidst the scorched remains of her belongings, Daphne sobbed for what should have been.
A/N: Hated leaving you guys on a cliffhanger last time. Of course, maybe you'd have preferred that to this chapter?
:D
Remember, I'm a romance writer. HEA is a definite thing.
Many thanks to the great reviews I got for the last chapter! I'm grateful!
Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles
