She'd been having a dream.
She'd been flying and fighting, and fighting some more. Somehow, in the dream, she could do whatever she wanted. In the dream, whatever every action she pulled was simply the correct thing to do in that moment in time, and it was simply because she'd wanted to do it. In the dream there was no rules, just instinct, and acting on her instincts led her only on the righteous path.
"Stop!"
Daphne jolted awake.
She was back in her dorm bed, hunched over in the most uncomfortable position imaginable. Her arm dangled off the side of the bed, in a deeper sleep than she had been at any point of the night. Her breathing was quick, but her panic began to settle as the familiar setting calmed her. All of that felt like it could have simply been a dream, but as the pain in her chest occurred to her, that hope slipped reluctantly away. She'd been sweating, making her hospital gown cling to her in a most horrible sensation. She'd been awake seconds and already hated everything.
She slowly dragged herself into a sitting position, leaving a damp patch behind where she had lain. She crossed her legs and hunched over her knees, concentrating to fight off a dry-heave. Pulling the hospital-gown off over her head and feeling the moist fabric leave her skin was a bittersweet release, then she tossed it to the floor beside Merula's discarded clothes from last night.
Normally she'd panic at oversleeping, but her perfect attendance record was already broken anyway now.
When she had finally collapsed onto her bed last night she hadn't even bothered setting an alarm. She had just wanted to stop being awake and nothing else was relevant.
Brushing hair out of her face, she found it matted against her dry crusted-over blood. At some point in the night she'd bled through her eyepatch and onto her face, hair and pillow. She repressed a solid urge to gag.
Throwing her covers off and dropping her feet off the side of the bed, they did a short wander around on the floor before snaking their way inside her slippers. She steadied her hand against the bedside table and pulled herself slowly to her feet. She had to take it easy, the underside of her feet were covered in blisters, and the tight bandage around her chest felt like the only thing holding her together.
As she stepped into her bathroom, the cold air attacked her like a physical blast. Closing in on the mirror, she paused to look at herself, and found the sight staring back at her as gruesome as she had been expecting. The bandage over her eye was barely visible beneath matted hair and crusted blood. It had leaked from it and coated half of her face. Daphne began to peel the bandage from her face. It felt like clawing cement off her skin, and sent disgusted chills over her half-naked body.
As she dropped it into the sink, her heart sank.
"What the…"
A spiral-shaped metallic wire weaved in and out of the surface of her temple, sealing together the large, bloodied-up gash that was the source of her bleeding. Her stomach churned unpleasantly.
She lifted a hand to touch it, then quickly recoiled from the pain.
The Muggles methods were out-dated, but where they really this barbaric? What had they done to her? Was this gruesome sight on her face their excuse for surgery? The face she had taken so much pride in over the years was ruined. The skin she constantly scrubbed and took care of, the eyebrows she kept plucked and kept tidy, all of it was a mess. It was a botched, messy, frankenstein-looking mess.
Tears began to well up in her good eye.
She looked like a monster.
Getting a shower and cleaning herself up was a priority, but by the old gods, her stomach felt the emptiest it had ever felt. She smacked her lips together a few times. Sleeping through lessons was one thing, but meals, on the other hand, was not an exciting prospect. The Great Hall served food until late, but she'd be having the scraps left behind by her classmates. Worst-case scenario she could always make herself something in the dorm kitchen, but it wouldn't give her the fill she craved right now.
"WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME HAPPENED TO YOU?!"
Her Head of House was certainly making a startling habit of bursting into her room unannounced while she was half-dressed, Daphne noticed. She stared at him with her mind a million miles away, as she continued to dry her hair with her wand.
"I fell."
Whether or not she intended it as a joke, Professor Snape didn't take it as such.
"We thought you were dead!" he spat furiously at her. "Your father and I have been going ballistic trying to find you!"
Somehow, for some reason, everything that she'd been through recently had ridden her of all fears she had about being in trouble. She doubted there was anything he could do with words that would be worse than the physical torture she'd already been through. Being on the receiving end of a few nasty insults now felt like a mercy.
She watched the Professor with dead, uncaring eyes, almost daring him to make her feel something.
"You've found me."
Professor Snape fumed harder. He was marching back and forth across her dorm room, muttering relentless to himself. His words were harsh, but she didn't shrink away from them. Daphne kept the towel secured tightly around her chest as she folded her hair into a bun. She kept her montone, expressionless gaze on him.
"We assumed you'd been captured by the Aurors! There's a full infiltration plan going forward to get you back this second! I told you - I gave you specific instructions - to report back to me when you returned, stupid girl!"
She sighed in annoyance.
"If you're just here to shout at me…"
"Talk, now!" he snapped loudly, shouting over her. "And you better make it good!"
She was being overly difficult with him, she knew. If she was in any better mood she might have even taken enjoyment out of seeing him get so wound up, but reality wasn't that kind to her. She knew she was doing it because getting shouted at was still a better alternative to having to relive what she'd gone through last night.
It was a nihilistic thing to do. She was just doing it to buy herself some time, which was only putting off the inevitable. No amount of enjoyment from the Professor's displeasure would make what she had to do next any easier, and it was a fruitless hope to try and put it off any further.
Slowly but surely, she began to divulge everything.
She went through all of it. Starting in her dorm room to telling her father that she wanted no part of it, to meeting Merula, then the messy blur of a battle, everything that happened in the muggle world - which was actually what he actually remembered with the most clarity. It must have taken ten minutes, which sounded a lot shorter than how it felt to her. Each word was becoming a struggle to say and every development felt heavier and heavier on her shoulders.
By the time she left the recollection in a place she felt comfortable with, her will had broken. Her breaths came in heavy pants and if she hadn't already cried herself dry the night before, she'd probably be tearing up by now. She locked a blurry eye with Professor Snape across the floor.
"You left her in a muggle hospital?"
Only just managing to hold herself together, her mouth dropped and she stared at him in disbelief.
"I dragged her to a muggle hospital, yes!" she shot back. "I saved her life when the Carrows left us both for dead! They were the ones that triggered the alarm! I saved us from being captured!"
She made extra points throughout her story to emphasis her good will; the fact that she didn't have to save Merula, but chose to anyway. She was very vocal about the fact that at no point were her actions unjust that night; she may be an emotional mess right now, but was determined that under no circumstances was she going to be held accountable for what went wrong. She had done everything that was in her power and even more than what was expected of her.
Praise would be the only feedback she was accepting right now.
Professor Snape was quiet for a moment as he considered the girl in front of him with a beady-eyed grimace.
"That's quite the opposite tale to what they've fed the Dark Lord... The Carrows claim it was you - specifically - that attacked early, and then proceeded to flee when the fighting broke out."
Daphne brought her bottom jaw forward, clenching her fists.
"Those dirty, lying…"
The Professor's hand shot up dismissively, silencing her on the spot.
"Your mother... Moira, did you divulge any of our... operations, to her?"
She glared at him, her anger instantly redirected. Her Head of House was never exactly known for his empathy, but his relentless was surprising even her today.
"I could barely talk to her without being sick. Your secrets are safe for another day, don't worry."
She worded her reassurance as though it were an insult. He pulled one last expression and then moved suddenly from his position to the other side of the room. Daphne took the opportunity to quickly snatch her dressing gown up and slip it over her shoulders.
"Give me the address you took Snyde to," Professor Snape spoke firmly, not looking back at her. "I will search for her myself. I should take it you haven't contacted your father since returning?"
She shook her head, then after seeing his attention was elsewhere, spoke up more clearly this time.
"You weren't in your office when I got back, I went straight to bed. Nobody saw me and I haven't spoken to anyone other than you."
When the Professor still didn't turn to address her, she craned her neck to see his face properly. He was still as a gargoyle, and looked to be in careful consideration for something internally. His behaviour right now was odd even for him it was beginning to feel like there was a three way conversation going on between him, her and another person that only he could see.
Part of her was glad he'd stopped yelling momentarily, the other part of her just wanted him the hell out of her dormitory. He'd come at her when she was at her most vulnerable. She was still only half dressed. The feeling of exposure wasn't helping keep her walls up against him, both mentally and metaphorically. She stepped out of the shower and had barely finished applying new bandages when he had come barging inside; it had been a scramble to make herself decent in time.
Daphne shuffled around on the bed, uncomfortable.
"Are you alright?"
His voice sounded like a child being made to thank a relative for a present they didn't want; forced and unappreciative. It figured that question was among the last he would ask.
"I have concussion, hypothermia, cracked ribs, blisters all over my feet and stitches on my face. How do you think I'm doing?"
Her words came in the heaviest, most sour sentence she had ever said in her entire life.
And yet it didn't even earn her a double glance.
"You're forbidden from going on any more Death Eater missions," his voice came suddenly from the corner of the room.
She paused. For whatever reason, that didn't click in her head immediately as a good thing. It was exactly what she wanted... which was the problem. It couldn't be that easy.
Enforcing her persona again to a cold, uncaring exterior, she returned to the conversation.
"Is that the Dark Lord's wish?"
Her voice shook more than she intended it. Professor Snape turned back to face her, this time he was sporting the face that could rivala Basilisk.
"It's my wish," he said. "The Dark Lord shall be made to understand… your father and I will take the full force of his wrath, but be aware, it's the Carrows word against yours. You should be thankful you have people to look out for you… others would not be so lucky in your position."
In contrast to their well-meaning, his words lingered in the air like they were nasty insult.
Again, she found herself unable to settle on one emotion. Part of her wanted to rejoice, but the relief she felt had to be kept subtle for fear of exposing her true nature. And the other another, more logical side of her, told her this development was anything but a reward. She was stumped on how to feel now, and recounting her story had taken away a chunk of her self confidence.
It was all becoming too much for her again, now she desperately wanted to return to her peaceful isolation.
"Thank you?" she offered quietly.
The Professor moved back across the room again, this time to his original position beside the door.
"The Dark Lord will not enjoy being pressured into mercy…" he spoke slowly. "For your sake, stay out of trouble."
She kept her eyes glued firmly on him, and a washing-over of relief swept her as finally turned to make his exit.
"Go to the hospital wing and get Madam Pomfrey to fix the mess on your face. Do you have lessons today?"
It took a second for his words to register with her. She shook her head, and after a moment, followed up with a question of her own.
"What time is it?"
"Two o'clock."
She strained, concentrating for an answer.
"... Transfiguration, I believe."
"I expect you in. You're not to tell anyone where you've been."
Daphne gave a slow nod of acknowledgement, rather than agreement.
"Yes... Professor."
Another moment of stillness lingered over them.
Mentally, she was begging him to leave the room. She was only just holding onto her growing flood of emotions and each second was chipping away at that restraint. Professor Snape on the other hand, seemed to be delaying it at every opportunity. Whether through deliberate, malicious intention, or something else entirely, she didn't know, and the answer she didn't much care for either, she just wanted him out.
"Your prophecy..." he began quietly.
"Destroyed."
Without showing his face, he sighed.
"I recall you telling me such… I just think that you needed reminding of that, as well."
She squinted.
What did that mean?
Why was he choosing now, of all times, to bring it up?
With those final words, he left her, and thousand emotions swept over Daphne at once.
It took a long while to hype herself up into leaving her dorm room again, where she would unfortunately find that the rest of her day wouldn't go nearly as straightforward as her conversation with Professor Snape had. The consolation that she wouldn't have to go through any more Death Eater missions began to wear off as she noticed more and more attention falling her way.
The medicine Madam Pomfrey had given her worked wonders and in a short amount of time she was feeling relatively back to normal, though that relief was quickly tainted. Her absence in the morning hadn't gone unnoticed, then turning up to afternoon lessons limping and wearing an eye-patch had accelerated rumours.
An antisocial bubble formed around her as she limped the corridor to lesson, with wandering eyes and whispers never far behind it. After the fourth time sending glares to stop someone, she abandoned trying to resist them. It wasn't like she was unused to being the social renegade these days, rumours had never truly died down about her and Harry and now they'd been given an influx. In just the span of walking from the Great Hall to the second floor, she'd already overheard the terms 'murder', 'werewolf' and 'Azakaban' thrown out about her. She'd respond to them the same way she responded to them in the past, with blissful ignorance.
When Daphne dropped onto her seat in Transfiguration lesson it was with a heavy impact, and she was quick to bury her nose into her textbook.
One would think that with all the yearly drama going on in Hogwarts, the student population could find something more interesting to talk about than the personal life of one of their peers. Not to mention that a little sympathy for her state wouldn't have been too amiss, either. Of course she'd turn her nose up at anyone offering assistance with carrying books or opening doors, but it was nobody had offered that bothered her. Good to know that even in her time of need, her classmates wouldn't spit on her if she was on fire.
Let them look, she thought sourly to herself. Let them think whatever they wanted, after what she'd been through, she didn't care about people's pathetic opinions anymore. Irrelevant peoples were nothing to her, it was about time she recognised this.
She was alive and she'd like to see any of them survive the night that she'd just through, not to mention still be able to make it to class the next day.
"Today, class, we will be putting the human transfiguration spell, Crinus Muto, into practice," Professor McGonagall's sharp, bride-like voice brought an unusual sense of familiarity to Daphne, one that she didn't think she would have missed.
"What the hell happened to you?" a heavy, familiar whisper came over her shoulder.
A heavy feeling came to life in Daphne's bowels, and it had nothing to do with the medication that had been twisting her guts into knots all morning. Now she had two reasons for feeling sick.
She kept her eyes firmly in her textbook.
"It doesn't matter."
Everyone else could go to Tartarus. It was incredible how rapidly she'd gone from putting on her best face for others to see to daring them to look twice at her, and how little this change had affected her. But the line in the sand was now upon her; Tracey wasn't like everyone else. She was a different matter altogether.
She was one of the few people that Daphne genuinely cared for and knew the feelings were reciprocated. It was true that Tracey's overemotional attachment often just complicated and bogged down things, but what they had was special, and she was one of the few people whose opinion of her did still matter.
"The spell is only designed for small changes to the human appearance, nothing beyond the abilities of a Metamorphmagus. As such we will be attempting to replicate..."
"What's wrong with your eye?"
"Infection."
She was in no mood to relay the events of the previous night again. Definitely least of all to someone as narrow minded and quick to judge as she was. Telling her now would cause more problems, she would freak out and Daphne didn't think she even had it in herself to relive, it even if she did want to. In a few days - maybe a week - when she'd moved past it and come up with a convincing lie, maybe then.
But believing that was an option would be fooling herself. She knew nothing that happened next was going to be easy. The two rarely butted heads, like actually butted, but when they did, they butted hard. Tracey was the unstoppable force and Daphne, the immovable object. There was an argument coming, she could feel it.
"Daphne, talk to me."
"We're in lesson."
If it was anyone else she wouldn't care, she could tell them to mind their own business or failing that, to get lost. Tracey had a special way of getting what she wanted, though. The tension between the two of them had slowly been brewing since the start of the year, most of it passive aggressive, but even Daphne understood the signs that now she was crossing a line. If one of them didn't budge there was going to be a confrontation, and a nasty one at that.
Daphne wanted to move forward. When she thought about where she was, and what she was doing, merely a few hours ago, it churned her stomach. She was not going to revisit that place anytime soon without a fight, and it came to that, then it would be a fight she wouldn't loose.
"Daphne Greengrass, you talk to me right now."
Things culminated in the common room. Apparently, Tracey caught onto her scheme to linger behind after lesson. The dungeon was already empty on all sides when she got in. She thought she'd won at avoiding the confrontation, but as she tried passing between the leather couches on the way to the dormitories, just as she was so close to returning to her valued isolation, Tracey appeared from her blind spot. When she spoke it was with a tone that begged a challenge.
Daphne turned, cautiously, with her eyebrow raised.
"I beg your pardon?"
She was wearing a rare look of seriousness. She was always good at coming across intimidating when she wanted to be, and it was because such a stone cold expression looked unnatural sitting on her normally bubbly face. It annoyed her how much she resembled their mother like that.
"You promised to me at the start of this year that you weren't in any danger."
Despite her face, her words were gentle. That did not help matters for Daphne, who desperately wanted to avoid all of this.
"You've broken that promise, and now I want to know what's goin' on."
"Look, Tracey…" an exasperated sigh escaped her lips, "I really don't want to have this conversation…"
Her words trailed off in silence and her face collapsed into her best, pleading expression. Sympathy was a rare card for Daphne to pull, but she could do it convincingly. It was only partly a facade, as she genuinely did have no desire for this confrontation.
Tracey didn't make any further movement. Daphne turned back on her way, but only then did something happen. A harsh zipping sound shot by her ears, followed by a change in the air density that was out right disorientating for her to experience. Losing focus for a second, when she came back, she found the leather couches had moved from their positions to block her path.
She shot back around, the facade over.
"Don't you dare raise your wand at me!"
Tracey, whose wand was pointed at the furniture and face solid as a stone, didn't budge a muscle.
"You can't keep runnin' away from this…" she spoke quietly, but with a solidarity to her voice, "... I want you to tell me exactly what's goin' on with you, Daffy. I'm sick to death of being on the sidelines. I'm not sittin' down and watchin' you ruin yourself."
Daphne waved her off dismissively, more annoyed this time around. She was still determined things weren't going to escalate, but was also completely gobsmacked and reeling back from the fact Tracey had used magic against her.
"I don't need this, Tracey, I don't want an argu-"
"Tough! It's a conversation we're havin'!"
Daphne's face dropped. Tracey had shouted that; her words echoed through the empty dungeon a number of times. Even from here, she could spy the girls chest rising and falling with each breath. Her voice had betrayed her and Daphne could see how terrified the girl was.
"Right now!" she continued. "We're goin' somewhere in private - so nobody else will hear - and then you're goin' to tell me exactly what you've been doin'! You're in danger, Daphne, I'm tryin' to help you! Just talk to me, for god's sake!"
Daphne hissed at the girls use of wording. Her good eye did another wander of the room to check they had no chance of getting over heard, since Tracey apparently had all filters off tonight.
"Keep your voice down!" she snapped.
The soggy feeling in her stomach was back and worse than ever.
"I'm handling things. You're trying to help, I know, but you are the last person I need pryin-""
"You obviously can't handle things! Look at you!"
She gestured to Daphne's face, and the eye patch that was taking up half of it.
Daphne exhaled deeply. Tracey was unrelenting, she knew there was no amount of talking that would get her to stand down right now.
She had no argument left; because for all intents and purposes, Tracey was absolutely in the right to be annoyed.
Even as kids she had a habit of sticking her nose where it didn't belong and believing she was entitled to information outside of her boundaries, but this time it was different. Daphne had made the promise and broken it, and now she was being the awkward one over it. If Tracey knew what she was going through, she'd understand, but she didn't, and Daphne couldn't hold that ignorance against her.
On a normal day, with a normal amount of effort, this would be the point where Daphne would linger and try to reason with her. She'd appeal to her better nature, and through an argument, the two would reach some kind of compromise. It was the way things had gone when she had first started seeing Harry, and if she was in a better mood, it's how things would have gone this time too.
But as she looked Tracey up and down, with her temper ever growing, she only saw a person who was pushing into something that she had no business in.
"I'm going to bed."
"No, you're not!"
Tracey moved this time, without the assistance of her wand, to physically block her path. Daphne stared her down.
"Tracey, I'm being nice. We aren't having this conversation... Now get out of my way."
She glared back, meeting her eyes with an Ice Queen stare down of her own.
"You can't keep runnin' from this..."
Daphne exhaled again, but this time it came out as a low, throaty growl. If she wanted to try her at her own game, then Tracey was about to learn why she was the Ice Queen.
"Fine. Ten points from Slytherin for disobeying a direct order from a Prefect. Now move."
Her words changed the tone of the room instantly. Tracey's face shattered at last. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped on the spot. She blinked, doing a double take, almost as if she hadn't heard her properly the first time.
"You can't do that!" her voice cracked. "You're seriously gonna take points from your own house just to prove a point?"
Daphne, meanwhile, kept her glare going strong.
"Twenty points."
"Davis, move!"
The voice hadn't come from either of them. The two turned their heads on the spot, only to spy Pansy and Millicent lingering nervously from the kitchen doorway.
With Tracey's head was turned, Daphne slipped silently right by her. She didn't wait to see what the girl had to say next, or to see her reaction to not getting what she wanted, because as she crossed through the corridor to her dormitory, she was already having to blink away the tears she had welling.
"WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS LIKE THIS?!" came shouted after her.
