In the end, she didn't sleep, not even for a moment.

Daphne dragged herself aboard the Express, instinctually tapping the pockets on her robes to feel for her trunks. A brief pause, her eyes narrowing only for a moment until she remembered it was singular now. Trunk, not trunks. Finding an empty compartment, she took a seat by the window and stared vacantly at the Hogsmeade station.

An eerie sort of calmness settled over her at some point, sitting in the burned-out configuration of the Room of Requirement she'd resided in for the last several months. No, that wasn't right; it was numbness.

She was through crying. Daphne had decided, just before the sun rose, that she wasn't going to feel sorry for herself any longer. It was her own mistakes that led to this, she didn't deserve self-pity. She'd betrayed Astoria and Harry. This was her life now.

"Hello, Daphne!" Luna entered the compartment, dragging her trunk behind her and flounced down onto the seat next to her. "Are you excited for winter break?"

"I- yes. Of course. What are your plans?"

Luna began to happily rattle off various activities she and her father had planned, which led into stories about previous holidays. She was so cheerful, so joyful… Daphne's fingers twitched, and when the younger girl next paused to take a breath, she couldn't fight her impulses any longer.

The blonde Ravenclaw went still for a moment, likely taken off-guard by Daphne's sudden embrace, but she was quick to return the unexpected affection. "Our break isn't that long, you'll see me again in no time at all!"

"I know." But still, Daphne didn't let her go.

Luna patted her on the back, and after a few moments pulled away and stood up, throwing open the compartment door. "Harry! Come, join us!"

Given the way they'd last parted, Daphne turned to the compartment's entrance with some trepidation. Behind Harry stood Ron and Hermione, hand in hand, looking inordinately pleased to see her.

"Hi Luna. I was actually hoping to speak with Daphne, would you mind giving us a few minutes?"

"Of course! Ronald, it looks like you've finally rid yourself of that wrackspurt infestation. Did you follow my advice…?" Luna's happy chatter cut off as Harry slid the door closed behind her.

It couldn't have been more than eight hours since he'd walked out on her in the Room, but Daphne found herself eyeing Harry like he was a cool drink in a hot desert. She wanted so badly to touch him, to taste him, for him to do the same to her. A rush of desire, hot and needy, swept through her.

No one knew Harry the way she did, no one loved him like she did.

"Do you still have my blood?"

"What?"

"The blood you took. Do you still have it?" He was a mass of tension, knuckles white and fists clenched.

"I- no, I don't."

"Was it really for your sister? Or were you planning to pass it along to the Death Eaters, too?"

Daphne leapt to her feet at that. "How could you think that? I already told you I had nothing to do with my parents giving gold to the Parkinsons. How would you like it if people judged you by how your muggle relatives act?"

He brushed off her accusation without a second thought. "I'm asking you to tell me the truth. You know what happened the last time Voldemort got my blood. I can't afford to spend my time worrying about what might happen this time."

"I gave it to Astoria. You don't have to worry, I'd never betray-" she abruptly went silent. She had betrayed him. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you're sorry you got caught."

"That's not fair! You never heard my side of the story, never gave me a chance to explain!"

"I'm certain you were just about to tell me the truth when I found out for myself, right? Convenient."

Daphne opened her mouth to reply just as the train lurched into motion, sending her stumbling forward against him. Harry reflexively caught her, and for a brief moment she was in his arms once more.

Flashes of the night before played out in her mind's eye. Harry's arms, tense as he held himself above her. The mark she left just under his collarbone, sucking on his sweaty chest. The feel of them joined together, of him inside of her.

Then the moment was over, and Harry shoved her away from him, Daphne falling back to her seat. His expression was- she expected hurt and anger, but not fear. It was like being doused in cold water, all of her desire vanishing in an instant.

Apologies wouldn't be enough, not for what she'd done.

"Just stay away from me, Greengrass. I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to see you, I want to forget you even exist. If you ever felt so much as a scrap of affection for me, you'll respect my wishes. Got it?"

Harry turned away, not waiting for a response, but she gave one anyway. "I love you."

Daphne could tell by the way his jaw clenched that he heard her, but he kept walking. The compartment door slammed shut behind him.

She had to make this right. She had to get him back.


It was a long, lonely ride back to London.

When the Express rolled to a stop in London, her mother was waiting for her. Ava pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they hastily made their way to the Floo.

"Are you alright?"

No. "Yes."

"Well, let's get you home. There's a lot of things we need to talk about."

Her father was waiting when they arrived, seated at the kitchen table. Teensy quickly provided them all with tea, and with his hands folded in front of him, her father began.

"I'd like it if Elysant could join this conversation."

"That's not going to happen. I destroyed her portrait last night."

"What? Why would you- how could you do something like that?!"

"She was an evil, manipulative bitch. She doesn't even deserve to live on, not even as a memory," Daphne spat. "The whole reason our family has suffered so much is because of Elysant!"

"That's enough, both of you," Ava interjected. "Cecil, you need to remain calm. None of this is Daphne's fault."

Daphne watched her father raise his teacup, noting for the first time the way his hands shook. This must be monumentally difficult for him, she realised. For as much as Astoria's fate bore down on Daphne, crushing her under false hopes and shattered dreams, her father had already endured the same thing twice before, with his mother and then his own sister.

"I'm sorry, Dad. But she didn't have anything to offer beyond the hidden parchment."

He took a deep breath. "I'm the one who should apologise. Your mother's right, none of this is your fault. You're just a child, it shouldn't be up to you to fix this."

"I'm almost seventeen. I'm not a little girl anymore."

"You'll always be my little girl," he said, voice thick with emotion.

Her mother cut in. "You must have been furious that the cure didn't work after everything you went through. I can understand taking out your frustration on the portrait."

Daphne shook her head. "It wasn't that…" she started, before trailing off. She thought about the night before, her mother's fears about what Harry might do in retribution. "Mum- Harry, he knows. Everything."

The blood drained from her mother's face, and she cast a worried glance to Cecil. "What was his reaction?"

"He was furious, he- he hates me," she whispered, remembering his expressionless face as he stepped over her to leave the Room of Requirement. "It wasn't supposed to be this way, I wasn't supposed to lose him or Astoria!"

That, though, wasn't what apparently concerned her parents. "Daphne," her father said urgently. "Last night, you mentioned-" he turned to Ava, grasping for the word.

"Hand-fasting," she murmured.

"Right, you said you'd made promises to Potter. Did you, before he found out…" His face flushed, but he swallowed his discomfort and went on. "If he decides to go public with this, we'll need to prepare ourselves. It's important that we know exactly how you took his blood."

"Dad!" Her stomach dropped through the floor at the notion of giving her parents a play-by-play of how she lost her virginity. "No!"

"Daphne-"

"I can't talk to you about that!"

"You don't understand. Potter is the last of his line; depending on the promises you made, he may very well have cause to denounce the Greengrass family as blood traitors. With who he is, with what's happening out there right now…"

It didn't take much to understand his line of thinking. "We'd be ruined, like the Weasleys were."

"No. The Weasley family has been working their way back up for generations since their offence. It would be worse. Our business would be destroyed, I'd be removed from the Wizengamot, my clients would be unwilling to bear the stigma of associating with me. And Potter could claim our assets in damages."

She'd never considered that. There hadn't been a family cast out of British society in such a way in her lifetime. Her parents were right to be worried, to ask what happened.

And really, at this point, what was one more humiliation?

"I'd brought up hand-fasting a week before the term ended. Elysant thought it provided a satisfactory justification to ask for his blood, since Harry was raised by muggles. It took some convincing," 'Including selling him out to Slughorn,' "-but he believed me. We… we made love, and he told me he'd go through with it. I took his blood, and when I returned, he'd discovered Elysant and what I'd done," she recited mechanically.

Saying it out loud, having to summarise what she'd done drove home exactly how horrid she'd been. How could she allow herself to be party to something like that? What kind of a person was she, that she'd do something like that to the man she loved?

Her shame morphed into a swell of panic. She'd used his dead parents to manipulate him. "Oh gods…" she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself and rocking back and forth in her chair. 'What have I done?'

"It's alright, sweetheart," her mother said, coming around the table and embracing her. "It's okay, we understand."

"Mum, I- the things I did to him-"

"Shhh," Ava said. "It's not your fault. You thought you were helping your sister. You weren't trying to hurt anyone."

They stayed there together for several minutes until Daphne calmed down. "Where's Dad?"

"He left to go consult our solicitors. We need to be prepared to defend ourselves if this comes out."

"I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt the family."

"We know that."

"Is Dad-" Daphne gulped. "How angry is he with me?"

"Oh, Daphne," her mother looked stricken at the question. "Your father isn't upset with you." She paused, moving back to her seat, but leaning forward to take both of Daphne's hands in her own. "When I was pregnant with you, your father was obsessed with having a son. The malediction afflicts only females born with Greengrass blood, you see, and he'd already buried both his mother and his sister. He was terrified at the prospect of losing a child of his own to the disease. But the moment he saw you, it was obvious how much he loves you. We're both so incredibly proud of the woman you've become."

Daphne shook her head. "I've been awful. Not just to Harry, but even before."

"That's part of growing up, honey. Understanding when you've made a mistake and learning from it. You're only sixteen, no one expects you to be perfect. This shouldn't have been your responsibility, and-" Ava pressed her lips together for a moment, seemingly girding herself. "And what happened to Astoria isn't your fault. I hate that you went through this, but there was nothing you could have done."

Sixteen - the same age as Elysant was when the portrait was when she entered into a contract with the Potters. Her mother was right, in a way. Neither Daphne nor Elysant seriously weighed the consequences of their respective actions, too sure of their own infallibility to give any consideration to anyone standing in the way of their own wants and needs.

Why had she trusted her poisonous ancestor so much?

She knew why, but when it came to her the solution brought no comfort. Elysant made for a natural ally, because the one truth the portrait had said was the most damning of all.

"You think you're somehow better than me?" she'd asked.

Daphne had her answer. She and Elysant, they were the same.


"Sweetheart? Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry."

The door opened and her mother stepped inside her room. "That's what you said last night, and the night before."

Daphne shrugged.

"Don't think I didn't notice how you pushed your food around your plate during the Yule feast."

"I don't know what to tell you. I'm just not hungry."

"Are you feeling unwell?" Ava pressed the back of her hand against Daphne's forehead, feeling for a fever. "Weakness, nausea, anything like that?"

"I'm fine, really."

"Your father can call a healer to come by for a check-up-"

"Mum…" she said, already exasperated with this conversation.

"You're not using your hair products anymore?"

Daphne ran a hand through her tangled locks, or tried to, anyway. "I, um, I got rid of all that."

Ava sighed. "There will be other boys, Daphne. First loves often don't go the distance."

"Yours did," she immediately shot back. "Harry's parents did."

Her mother was quiet, and after a moment Daphne sat up. "I'd like to use the Floo."

"For what?"

"I'm going to talk to him. I have to talk to him."

She could see the way her mother struggled to not immediately deny her request, but whether because of the determination on her face, or because it was the first time Daphne had done something besides lay in bed for the last week, Ava eventually gave in. "Very well. But please, Daphne, please don't provoke him."

She leapt out of bed, hurrying to the parlour. Daphne had already attempted to contact Harry through Dobby, but the elf tearfully told her he'd specifically asked Dobby not to deliver any more letters from her.

Tossing a pinch of powder into the fire, she waited until the flame flashed green before calling out, "The Burrow!" in a clear voice.

She waited, kneeling in front of the heart for more than a minute before a face appeared. "Yes?"

Of course it would be her. "I need to speak to Harry."

"He's not here."

"Just go get him, Weasley!" Daphne had no patience for the younger girl's childish games. "I don't care if he doesn't want to talk to me!"

"I can't, you stupid bint. Harry's not here. He left on Christmas."

"What? Where did he go?"

There was a commotion on the other side before Ginny could answer, and a few moments later a different face appeared in the fire. "Greengrass? That you?"

"Ron!" 'Finally!' "Where is Harry?"

"He left, in the middle of Christmas dinner, no less. The Minister of Magic dropped in for a chat, they stepped outside to talk, and Harry never came back."

"The Minister 'dropped in for a chat'?" Daphne repeated incredulously. "Wait. On Christmas? That was three days ago!"

"I know," Ron said grimly. Then, after a pause, "He said you two split up."

"It's complicated."

"I'll bet," he replied, just a hint of grin visible through the muddled flames. "Listen, the day we rode back on the Express, Harry told us-"

"Ronald! Who are you talking to?!"

"It's just Fred and George, Mum!"

"Weren't they just here a few-" the Floo connection abruptly closed, and Daphne leaned back onto her heels.

What did the Ministry want with Harry? Why would he go with them and leave the Weasley's?


The holidays ground forward with a dire sense of foreboding. Every day the Prophet listed new attacks, injuries, and deaths. If Harry had returned to the Weasley's, no one told her.

And Astoria continued her slow, inexorable decline.

"I hate to see you like this, but all the more so on your birthday."

Daphne glanced over to her father and made a conscious effort to stand straighter. "I'm sorry. My presents were wonderful, I don't mean to be ungrateful."

She wasn't lying; her mother had gifted her a gold pocket watch inlaid with jade, while her father passed down a traditional lady's jewelry box, a family heirloom that dated back more than two centuries. Not to mention, she was presently walking through Diagon Alley with him to open a Gringotts vault in her own name.

"You only turn seventeen once. This should be a special, unforgettable day."

"It is, really-"

"I meant for good reasons," he interrupted drily, and Daphne couldn't hold back a small laugh. "That's my girl."

The process at Gringotts didn't take long, and once she'd slipped her vault key into her pocket, Cecil held out his arm for her to take. "Why don't we continue our stroll before heading home? You head back to Hogwarts tomorrow, and I haven't had enough time with you yet."

"Sure, I'd like that."

They walked, arm-in-arm, back the way they came, with her father occasionally pointing out wizards he did business with, or items their family business had imported. It brought back memories of her younger years, before Hogwarts, when they used to walk through Diagon Alley as a family.

"What's this? Here, where did you get this?" Pulled out of her memories when her father stopped, Daphne blinked at the man her father spoke to. He was thin, average height, with a hat pulled low to keep his features somewhat obscured.

"Premium artefact, from a very influential family that's fallen on hard times. A real bargain, let me tell you."

"Poppycock! I can see from here it's a forgery, and not a good one at that."

The man spread his arms in a wounded manner. "I'll have you know I'd never pawn off inferior knock-offs. My customers pay for the best, 'n that's what I deliver!" He reached down for the item that must have caught her father's eye. "Take a look, guv, that look like a forgery to you?"

Cecil held the gold necklace in his hands, a heavy locket dangling down. "Which family did you say this is from?"

"Err…" the man pushed the brim of his hat back to wipe at his forehead, eyes darting left and right. "I don't believe I did say."

"Stolen, then? I'm hardly going to buy purloined goods from a common thief!"

"Not stolen! No sir, I'm-"

"I know you," Daphne said, slowly recognising the street vendor. "You're one of Harry's watch-"

"As I were sayin'," Mundungus interrupted loudly, overriding her words. "If you're not interested in doin' any business, I'll be on my way."

"Where is he?" Daphne grabbed hold of him, trying to keep him from storming off while her father looked on with a baffled expression. "Do you know where Harry is? Tell me!"

"Look, Miss, I'm just trying to make a living, I don't know nothin' about anything!" He freed himself from her grip, looking back at Cecil with his hand held out expectantly. "I'll take that back, now."

"I'll give you thirty Galleons for it."

"What! Thirty?! That's a bloody insult. Give it here, I need to be going anyway-"

"Forty-five then, and you're going to say yes. You won't find a better offer without naming the family it's from, and the people who won't ask that question are more likely to steal it from you than seriously negotiate."

Mundungus glared mutinously, even going so far as to throw his hat onto the street and stomp angrily on it, but eventually he accepted the bid with a nod of his shaved head. Her father counted out the Galleons, and once the vagrant had stormed off, he turned and held the locket out to her.

"I think it will match your new watch, don't you think?"

She cradled it in her hands, noting the stylized "S" and the embossed snakes in the golden locket. Green jewels glittered brightly on its surface, and the chain was thick and of the highest quality. "It's lovely."

"If you like, I could have it appraised. I'm certain it's valuable."

"So, not a knock-off, then?" she asked with a grin.

"Greengrasses don't buy fakes, and we don't pay full price," he replied, and they laughed. She put it on, leaving the locket outside her robes. "Very fetching, you look lovely, dear."

She felt that way, too, and for the first time since she'd come home, Daphne enjoyed dinner with her parents, eating to her heart's content. Afterwards, she elected not to join her mother in attending to Astoria, instead settling into a comfy seat in her father's study, curled up with a gripping novel about an adventurous witch captured by Tibetan war priests during a quest to discover the elusive yeti.

Before bed, she packed her things for the Express, and when she lay down fell right asleep. It was a brilliant end to her birthday.

The next morning, though, brought her momentary relief to an abrupt end. Daphne had just settled in for a traditional English breakfast when an owl delivered the morning Prophet. There, plastered all over the front cover, was Harry.

Chosen One to Turn the Tide Against You-Know-Who! read the headline. Daphne grabbed hold of the paper, quickly scanning the article for more information, but it was frustratingly short on detail. All she learned was that he would be working with the DMLE in hunting down Death Eaters; beyond that, there was little more beyond a few pithy quotes about his confidence in the Ministry and Minister Scrimgeour.

Instead of focusing on the text, her eyes locked onto the attached photograph. Scrimgeour stood next to him, smiling and waving, but Harry stared unerringly at the camera, brows furrowed and face set in hardened determination.

Gods, she missed him.

'But why?' she asked herself, some of the longing dissipating in the face of the relaxed cheer she'd felt the night before. 'Hadn't he walked out on her without waiting for an explanation? Is that how someone that really loved her would act?'

Scowling, she dropped the paper on the table and tucked in, scarfing down her breakfast at a pace that raised her mother's eyebrows when she entered the room.

"Everything alright, dear?"

The anger felt so good, so comforting. It felt right. 'Hadn't she changed everything about herself for him? Didn't that earn her at least the opportunity to explain? Relationships are supposed to be give and take, and she gave and gave, and he took and took…'

"Everything's great," she bit out, but the smile on her face was genuine, at least. "I just need to grab my trunk and I'll be ready to go."

'To think, you almost ended up with a half-blood!'Daphne giggled at the very thought.

"Alright," a clearly puzzled Ava replied.

Despite it all, she couldn't stop thinking about him, more and more furious thoughts running through her mind on a continuous loop. She grabbed the handle of her trunk, slipped on a pair of flats, and with that, she was ready to go. Ready for her first term at Hogwarts as an adult witch. Ready to put the disturbing, momentary blip that was her time with Harry Potter behind her.

On her way out of her room, Daphne's gaze fell on the ornate jewelry box she'd received for her birthday. Having only got it yesterday, she wasn't used to the sight of it just yet and paused for a moment to admire the craftsmanship. Being such an important family heirloom, Daphne wasn't going to risk taking it to Hogwarts.

Flipping open the lid on a whim, her eyes locked onto the silver, sapphire-studded locket inside. Harry's gift to her. That's right, she'd put it inside the box just before her father took her to Gringotts, and since then she'd been wearing the golden locket he'd bought her.

It really was a lovely gift, she thought, pulling Harry's locket out of the box to admire it more closely. He must have dropped a hefty amount of gold on it. On a whim, she slipped the golden locket off and replaced it with the silver one.

The moment it came to rest against her breast, an avalanche of memories washed over. Flashes of her time with Harry, of smiling, laughing, loving. Her fingers twitched, remembering the feel of her hands in his hair. The way he cradled her cheek before he kissed her goodnight. The feeling of joy when he told her he loved for the first time.

The look on his face when he discovered her lies.

It was like a hammerblow to her chest. Daphne staggered, bracing herself against her dresser. What was wrong with her?

The other locket. It had to be enchanted in some way, some sort of modified Cheering Charm. It was the only explanation for why she'd forgotten Harry, forgotten-

"Astoria!" she breathed, leaving her trunk behind and running to her sister's room. She was just as she left her, and a crushing burden of guilt forced Daphne to her knees alongside her bed.

"I love you, Tori," she whispered, leaning to kiss her sister's cheek. "I love you so much."

Her throat tightened and her vision blurred, but Daphne held the emotion in with the last scraps of her willpower. She wouldn't cry. She was through crying.

She stayed there on her knees, memorising Astoria's features until her mother came to take her to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

Daphne knew, because of her own failures, it would be the last time she saw her little sister.


The Express had barely begun its journey when a commotion sounded outside her compartment.

"I said no, now sod off!" Ron shouted.

"I want answers the same as you, he's my friend, too!"

"Ginny," Hermione started, obviously trying to settle the argument, but Ron's voice overrode her.

"Like we're going to get answers with you there, sniping away! Piss off!"

The compartment door slid open. "Hello, Daphne!" Luna called out, as though she hadn't been standing outside waiting for a screaming match to end just a moment before. "How was your holiday?"

"It was alright. It's good to see you again," she replied, and it really was. Luna slid in next to her, giving her a tight embrace. "I really missed you."

Hermione coughed lightly, and Daphne looked over to see Ron shutting and locking the door before taking a seat next to her. Their interlocked hands rested on Hermione's thigh once he sat down. "'Lo, Greengrass. Happy New Year."

"Same to you," she said, resignation settling over her. She knew why they were here. "Has there been any word from Harry?"

"Nothing beyond what we read in the Prophet-" Ron started, but Hermione swiftly interrupted.

"What happened between you two? One minute you're proposing marriage, and the next he's saying you broke up."

"What-" her voice cracked, so she cleared her throat and started again. "What did he tell you?"

Hermione stared flatly at her, clearly losing patience. It was Ron who answered. "He seemed embarrassed. Didn't get much out of him beyond 'I don't want to talk about it' in a lot of different ways."

"You're going to give us answers. We need to understand what pushed him to make the decision not to come back to Hogwarts."

'He's not coming back?' "Harry, he… something happened, the night before we got on the Express."

"It's okay," Luna said, putting a supportive hand on Daphne's arm. "We're all just worried about him."

Sparing a brief smile for the little Ravenclaw, Daphne took a deep breath and turned to the other two. "Last year, I found out-" She stopped, deciding to start off in a different way. "The Greengrass family can trace its lineage back to the Middle Ages. We're one of the oldest families in Britain-"

"Get on with it, we don't care about this," Hermione said.

Luna sighed. "Hermione…" She motioned for Daphne to continue.

"Right. Well, like I was saying, we're an old family. But for centuries, our line has been plagued by a blood malediction, an incurable disease that's killed every female-born Greengrass for generations." Ron's eyebrows raised, and Luna gasped. "My ancestors grew so desperate, they left Britain to seek a cure on the Continent. They weren't successful. No one knew what caused it, until last year. Until I discovered the cause of the malediction.

"I have a little sister. Astoria. She- her illness manifested early, and she's… she's dying. You see, the curse on our blood was put there centuries ago following a broken marriage contract, and the only way to end it was to regain the love of a member of the injured family."

Ron's head impacted the back wall behind his seat with a dull thud. "I think I see where this is heading."

"I want to hear you say it," Hermione hissed, her voice dangerous and low. "Keep going."

"I thought- I just wanted to save my sister. I never, never wanted anyone to get hurt-"

"Get to the part about Harry," Hermione said, her face a stony mask.

Daphne couldn't meet their eyes, choosing instead to stare out the window at the passing countryside. "To break the curse, Harry had to love me and freely give his blood. I tried to get closer to him, to get closer to all of you. I knew I had to change, and I did. I swear I did!"

"You mean…" She turned, seeing tears tumble down Luna's cheeks. "You were only nice to me because you wanted to get to Harry?"

"Luna, no-" Daphne started, but Luna was shaking her head, like her ash-blonde hair could whip away the denials.

"I thought- I thought you actually liked me," Luna said, before she started to sob. Daphne reached for her, but Luna pushed her, pushed her so hard she fell off the seat. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

And then she fled the compartment, crying all the way.

"No! Come back!" Daphne jumped to her feet to give chase, but the door slammed shut in her face.

"Sit down, and finish," Hermione commanded, her brown eyes cold and furious. "So you tricked us, all of us. How did you get him to give you his blood?"

Daphne put her hands on the glass panels, staring down the corridor Luna ran through. "It was the hand-fasting. I- if I'd told him why I needed the blood, it wouldn't have worked. He would have thought it was all a lie, that I was just using him-

"You WERE using him, you BITCH!" Hermione shouted, and in the next moment the glass pane next to Daphne shattered.

She saw Ron, struggling with Hermione, keeping her wand pointed away from Daphne. "Stop, Hermione, stop!"

"Let me go! Harry's out there with a death wish and it's all her fault!"

"This isn't the way, calm down!"

"Don't you see? She used all of us to get to him, she couldn't have done it without us! She stole him from us, Ron!"

"Move, Greengrass," he commanded, and she obligingly stepped aside as he practically dragged Hermione out of the compartment. She never stopped screaming threats, and Daphne saw faces peeking out of every compartment in their car, stunned students at the drama unfolding in the corridor.

Daphne was shaken. She was shaking. The sound of Luna crying, the look on her face... she didn't deserve this. Luna didn't deserve the way she was isolated by her peers, bullied and picked on. She didn't deserve to question why someone would want to be her friend.

A fresh wave of agony rolled through her, and Daphne curled into a ball on the floor of the compartment. It hurt so much.

"Well, that went well." Ron bent down, bodily lifting her up and dropping her into one of the compartment's seats before sitting down in the other. "You alright, Greengrass?"

"Why are you here?" she asked, but her voice was so weak she wasn't sure if he made out the question.

It was his turn to stare out the window, for a long time. Her chest felt tight, like there was a vice squeezing her, crushing her in its grip. She felt like she could barely breathe.

"The thing is, I've got six brothers and sisters. And if my only options were to snog the life out of Bulstrode or lose one of them, it'd hardly be a decision, y'know?"

When Daphne didn't answer, he kept talking. "Yea, you lied to us, and you hurt Harry. That's on you, Greengrass, and I can't make that right. But the way I see it, you also helped us out of Umbridge's office in Fifth Year. You were there for Harry when Sirius died, afterwards at his relatives'. You helped me pull my head out of my arse and make things right with Hermione. You went through a lot of shite, and I doubt all of it was to save your sister."

"I…" She had no clue what to say.

"I guess that's why you got to him. Harry's the same way, always wanting to be the hero. The thing I don't understand, though, is what Dumbledore's got to do with it."

"The Headmaster?"

Ron nodded. "The day we got back from Hogwarts, Harry was on the Floo, demanding to see him. Tore into him behind a privacy charm, right on the front lawn. Thought my Mum was going to keel over, watching him go at it." He chuckled at the memory. "So what happened?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything about what Harry did with the Headmaster last term." She wracked her memory, trying to come up with any relevant information. "He- Harry told me once that Dumbledore had a plan. An idea about how he could beat You-Know-Who."

He sighed. "Right. Well, I better get back. You okay to clean up the mess?"

"Sure." He nodded and made to leave, but paused when she spoke again. "Ron? Thank you."

He threw a casual wave over his shoulder and left.

Still shaking, Daphne drew her wand and pointed it at the shattered glass. "Reparo." Nothing happened. "Reparo," she tried again, and some of the glass wobbled.

Standing from her seat, she walked over to the window pane, carefully working through the correct wand movements and incanting "Reparo!" once more. Slowly, the glass rose from the floor, piecing itself together like a jigsaw puzzle.

Daphne returned to her seat, pressing herself to the very edge and looking out the window. Her shallow breaths fogged the glass.

She wouldn't cry. She was through crying.

But even as she repeated the words, over and over, it didn't work.

"You don't deserve to cry," she told her reflection, watching the tears glisten on her own cheeks. "It's all your fault."

The Express thundered north towards Hogsmeade.

A/N: Well, now I'm depressed. It'll be okay, Daffy!

I put out a new story! The Discordant Pattern, Harry/Hannah pairing, chaos-mage-Harry, Lily-survives, Sirius-raises-Harry. It's kind of a lot, but I'm enjoying it.

There's something else on the horizon, but I'm not ready to start working on it, so my lips are zipped for now.

I'm posting this chapter, and then I'm going to go through and try to reply to some reviews. Thanks so much for everyone sharing their thoughts!

Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles