Dearest Daughter,
An accurate version of the story has finally reached me about your actions the night of the Longinus Heist. I knew from the start what the Carrows were spewing was false, but given you had all but vanished entirely from the scene, mine was a difficult argument to prove.
First and foremost, I must congratulate and applaud your bravery in time of crisis. Apparition is a skill not many can perform at your age, not to mention the power involved holding off multiple Aurors at once. Merula Snyde has not yet been located, but rest assured when she is, I'm confident she will have a similar feeling of gratitude. You lived up to the family name and have proven yourself a witch to be reckoned with in front of others, for that I am and will always be eternally proud and grateful. You will find my appreciation come incarnate in your next Gringotts allowance.
Onto the more pressing issue… The Dark Lord is anything but happy. Despite the good you did and mine and Severus's attempt at defusing the situation, he still feels you acted unjustly. I suspect he does not believe the Carrows version of the events, but I can say fairly confidently that regardless, he does not approve of your decision to desert the attack. He was already displeased with the lack of development between yourself and Harry Potter, I worry this may act as the straw to break the camel's back.
It is for your own safety that for the time being I strongly suggest you remain inside the Hogwarts protection wards; you are not to return to Greengrass Woodhouse this winter break. The Dark Lord has a reputation for how he treats those who fail him and I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you. Astoria shall return home and Winky, as always, will still be available to you throughout the holidays. She will deliver you your presents and any other items from home that you may wish. Try to remain as unproblematic as possible in the meantime. Do whatever you can to get yourself back on Harry Potter's good side; at this point I am convinced it will be the only thing to get you back in the Dark Lord's good books. As your father it pains me to give you such a request, especially now we find ourselves the last in our blood linage, but we must all make sacrifices for the greater good. I remind you, Severus Snape is your only ally in the castle, you should trust him with your life.
The Sword of Damocles is swinging above all of our heads, Daphne. We all best remain clear of it when the inevitable, painful drop happens.
You're in my heart, forever and always,
Your Father
Why was she so allergic to making good decisions, truly?
If she'd pushed more, if she'd had actually stood up for herself, she might have escaped having to go on the mission that night. And yesterday, if she'd actually grown a pair and faced the consequences of her actions, she might actually still have a single friend left in the castle or maybe even a home to go back to. If she'd argued - if she'd truly argued - and not just shied away from the conflict, she could have convinced her father against joining the ranks.
Daphne Greengrass was a coward.
Being better than others was a lifestyle she enjoyed - it made her feel respected - but it was a facade. The opposite was true about her. She didn't want people looking down on her. Getting the best marks in lesson wasn't so she could feel good, or educate herself, it was so she didn't feel less than the others. She didn't isolate herself from everyone because they 'weren't worth her time' like she claimed, it was so she could remain unproblematic in their eyes.
Joining the Death Eaters weren't an attempt to bring balance to the two sides, it was the cowardice in her that prevented her from letting daddy down.
The reason she'd been so dead set against seeking help wasn't for the compassionate, selfless reasons she claimed it to be. It was the same reason why she couldn't look her mother in the eye, why she had removed herself from Harry's life and why she fought so adamantly against Tracey's help, even though she desperately needed it. The long awaited truth - the reality that she had been denying even herself - was she ashamed of who she'd become.
She'd just gotten so far into the lie that she'd started believing it herself.
It was because the idea of Tracey or Harry's face when she showed them the sharp, blackened tattoo on her forearm… made her skin crawl. She didn't want them, or anyone, to see her like that. She couldn't admit that she'd lost and at this point had jumped through hoops to convince herself otherwise. It was a realisation she'd simultaneously been aware of for a long time now, and yet, also living in blissful ignorance of. She had to keep up her own mental image of herself, and when others conflicted with that image, she had pushed them away. That was the control that she had over her life. She was the reason she was alone, nobody else. As much as she wanted to hate her father, the Dark Lord, or even Professor Snape, it was now past the point of putting the blame on others.
The Ice Queen that she had convinced herself and so many others that she was, simply didn't exist.
It was with this mind, alive on adrenaline and with a heavy heart, Daphne slipped out of her dormitory room in the early hours of the next morning.
She was acting almost on autopilot. She wasn't planning her actions out as she often did, just following through with an instinct that she knew was right. It was freeing, and reminiscent of how she felt helping Harry escape Professor Umbridge's clutches last year. Now, just like then, her brain was out the window and her heart was forging it's own path ahead.
Tracey was important to her. When she thought about losing her, it wasn't the lingering depression and abandonment that assaulted her like with Harry, it was frustration at herself. After all they had been through together, both in and out of Hogwarts, it wasn't going to end over something so pathetically trivial. Not to mention with how much Tracey had pissed her off in the past, the idea it was her behaviour to tear them apart was almost a comical one.
Friends having fights weren't that unusual, she still had a way back, she just needed to act accordingly. Harry and his friends seemed practically inseparable, yet she seemed to remember him telling her a good portion of their fourth year they'd spent not talking. She wasn't going to be like that. She excelled in everything that she did, and friendship was going to be one of them.
It was about time she started being the friend that Tracey had been to her all this time.
Daphne knocked on the dorm room opposite hers. A voice from inside answered and she allowed herself in.
"Morning," she said gently.
Tracey was already up but still in bed. She looked almost as surprised to see Daphne as Tabatha looked annoyed for having her stroke-session interrupted. She gave an awkward half-nod back at her.
"Hey."
Daphne moved sparsely into her room. She walked with a confident strut, completely oblivious to the awkward air around her.
"Wanna go on a date?"
It must have taken a second for the words to register properly in Tracey's head, and even when they had, she looked like she'd misheard them. She squinted at her for moment with an unreadable expression, then eventually forced out a risque laugh.
"Interested in someone else, sorry. You should have asked sooner."
Even with her flat face, Daphne could hear the joking in her tone. Comedy always had been the key to Tracey's heart. She fought the urge to smile.
At that moment Tabatha let out an unusually loud sound and hopped off the bed, running quickly over to the door she had left slightly agape. Daphne moved to the side of Tracey's bed and sat beside her feet.
"Horace is hosting a Christmas party that's coming up soon. We're all expected to bring somebody."
Tracey frowned back at her.
"Christmas-do already? Wasn't Halloween like last week?"
"Skye Parkin and Gwenog Jones will be going… I know you're big on Quidditch, I thought you'd like the opportunity to meet them?"
Let's get one thing straight, Daphne was not bribing her into stopping being mad. She simply had the opportunity to give Tracey something that would make her happy and decided now was the time to give it to her. She was probably going to ask her to be her plus one regardless of their argument. And if Tracey still she wanted to remain mad after that… even though Daphne knew that wouldn't be the case... then she would be fine with it.
Tracey's eyes lit up at the name drops, then they closed in cautiously.
"You actually askin' me?"
"Well, it depends if you have anything appropriate to wear," she said then with a heavy sigh, added, "I'm not bringing you if you're going to come in jeans and a hoodie."
Tracey cracked a wicked smile.
"Wigtown Wanderers pajamas is a no, then?"
The two shared a smile, then Tracey moved to wiggle out from under her covers and predictably, she was sporting the very clothes she'd just joked about.
"Fancy clothes…" she hopped off the bed and thought on the spot, "... I have what I wore to the Yule Ball?"
Daphne's mind zoomed to make a recollection.
"That was a tuxedo, right? Don't you have any dresses? A gown, maybe?"
Tracey shook her head.
"I don't even wear a skirt unless it's summer... I don't have anything like that, sorry."
"You could borrow from my wardrobe? I'm sure I'll have something you'll like?" she suggested.
Tracey let out a loud cackle.
"I mean - I'm flattered that you think I could fill your bust size! - but what's wrong with just wearin' a suit?"
Daphne's eyes rolled awkwardly. Progress was good, it was going exactly the way she hoped. She dare not say something now to spoil the mood.
She thought carefully on how to word her next sentence
"It's... not exactly very... lady-like."
An expression that Daphne predicted coming a mile off fell on to her, as Tracey stared back.
"I'm not trying to be ladylike, I'm trying to be me."
"What about a suit with kilt then, maybe?" she was quick to suggest. "That at least looks like a skirt. I don't want you to look out of place."
"Daffy," Tracey shook her head, determined, "if you make me wear a dress - in any way, shape, or form - then I won't go."
Daphne brought herself off the bed and joined her on her feet, resigned. She wanted to argue further. She knew where to draw the line, though. Not only was she fighting a losing battle, she was an idiot for trying to win that fight in the first place.
"Okay, then. You can wear a suit…" she said with a tired sigh. "But only because it's easier to take you than someone else."
Tracey pulled a smug face, then wiggled her head provocatively from side to side.
"There I was thinkin' you wanted me to come because you actually cared about me!" she said with a rhythm.
Daphne pulled an ironic, forced grin back at her.
"That too, I suppose."
Another trademark cackle sounded from Tracey's mouth and she received a sudden punch to the shoulder.
"What are you wearin'?" Tracey asked as she moved across the room quickly, crossing over to her open wardrobe and rummaging inside.
Daphne stayed on the spot, watching her find what she was looking for.
"A dress I picked up from Madame Malkins before term started. It's black, but illuminates navy under moonlight. It's gorgeous actually, I've been waiting for the chance to show it off."
"Custom from Malkins!?" Tracey announced with a laugh, "That must have set you back a bit?"
"It didn't, actually. Father bought it for me as a present."
Tracy paused her loud rooting and brought out a wrinkled burgundy, yellow and green three-piece suit on a hanger from the wardrobe.
"Will this look good with it?"
Daphne paused.
She was here to make peace, but by the old gods, it took all of her power not to throw up on the spot.
"That's rather… clownish…" she eased out the word. "Do you have anything more expensive looking?"
Tracey pulled a disapproving face and chucked the outfit onto her bed.
"Daffy, I live on a council estate? I only have the school textbooks because I nicked them from Pansy!"
A sympathetic smile was the best Daphne could manage.
"What do you have, then?"
"That," she pointed back to her bed, "the tux from the Yule Ball and this blazer," she returned to her wardrobe again and this time brought out a blazer off the floor, which looked more screwed and creased than the suit was.
Daphne felt faint at the state of it, but as she went to turn her nose up she slowly did a double take.
The low-quality and cheapness of it was obvious, but let it also had an aura about it that suited Tracey's attitude.
"That's actually quite nice."
Tracey held it up to the illumination lanterns, but Daphne patiently ignored her.
"It's very faintly green, I don't know if you can see in this light."
"Do you have pants in the same colour?"
"Technically yes, but I'm not sure they'll fit," Tracey cringed loudly. "I got them in third year and my bum has got huge since then."
Daphne was silent for a moment, considering her options. Tracey caught her gaze and matched it with an equal expression of contemplation.
"If you could fit into it, it'd be a good look," she said after a while.
Tracey nodded and strung the blazer up across her wardrobe door.
"Sorted, then! Black shirt or white?"
"Well, that depends if you're wearing a waistcoat with it?"
"Oh, Daffy, come on…"
Daphne suddenly felt like she overstepped her bounds.
"No, it's good, we're making progress!" she nodded, giving Tracey an enthusiastic smile. "Doing well so far! Now, with a suit you typically either need to have the blazer open and with a waistcoat, or keep it closed and wear a tie. Which would you rather?"
An exasperated sigh came from Tracey.
"Where do you even learn this stuff?"
Daphne shook her head, again forcing positivity onto her face.
"Years of trial and error, don't worry! Father used to take me with him to Ministry parties."
Tracey rolled her eyes.
"Well, the only tie-tie I have are my school ties."
"That's okay, do you have a waistcoat?"
"None at all."
Daphne, again, considered the scene.
Tracey looked as disinterested as she did during the lessons. She could see she was beginning to tire of the topic. She was on thin ice and didn't want to overstep any bounds, but didn't know what else to stir the conversation towards just yet. Things were going well, she should shut things down now before the situation soured and she was back where she started.
"Well, I have a grey one, it would look good between green pants and blazer. You could maybe wear a black shirt?"
Tracey thought on the spot for a moment before nodding, her face breaking out into a smile.
"That sounds pretty slick, yeah, I could do that."
"It's a woman's though," Daphne interjected quickly, "you're going to be okay with that?"
Tracey punched her in the shoulder again, laughing obnoxiously, "Sod off! Yes, I'll be fine with that."
"And shoes?"
"I have some nice ones, don't worry. They're not heels, though. I'm takin' my legs off before you make me wear heels, so don't ask."
Daphne gave her girl a reassuring head nod.
"Don't worry, that's fine. We're all set then!"
"It's a date! You got some designer eye-patch you're gonna wear for it or somethin'?"
What obviously meant to come out as a joke brought a startling silence to the room. Tracey's face dropped and she looked to Daphne in horror. Daphne didn't know why her words suddenly struck as deep as they did, but her face apparently portrayed her feelings before she hid them in time.
"I'll have it off by then, don't worry," she tried to pass it off casually.
The mood in the room had already changed.
Their conversation up until this point had shot by, again, on autopilot. Daphne didn't really care about the clothes, she just wanted to talk on good terms with her half-sister again.
The argument had lingered like an elephant in the room, and now they had made the mistake of addressing it, it was impossible to return to before it. From the second Daphne entered, even at its best, the tension had been unignorable and very apparent.
Tracey cocked her head to the side, smiling, but with an air of sadness in her tone.
"What... did happen, Daph?"
Her question didn't come out like last night. This time it was simple in tone and almost struck her as sympathetic. It was like Tracey knew it was useless to try but still had to anyway. Daphne peered across the bed at her, solemnly.
"You know… I have cracked ribs and severe bruising on my arms and legs… but would you believe me if I told you I don't actually know what happened to my eye?"
Her faint attempt at humour was the best consulting she could manage. It didn't seem to satisfy Tracey, but at least created a small smile on the girl's lips.
"Can I see it?" she gently.
Daphne turned her nose up in a sudden ugly grimace.
"No... It's... disgusting."
"Have you lost your entire eye or…?"
She could forgive Tracey for being curious, even if it was about something that she was clearly sensitive over. It wasn't exactly as though she had been very forthcoming recently, she could hardly blame the girl, as much as the growing butterflies in her stomach wanted her to.
Daphne shook her head. "It's just a flesh wound. I can see fine, but... Madam Pomfrey says I'm probably going to have a scar across my face. My eyebrow, specifically. Cut down the middle."
Tracey frowned.
"Seriously? How come? I thought we had potions to stop stuff like that happenin'?"
To answer her question, Daphne would have to go into why she didn't receive any magical medical attention immediately, and to do that was something she still didn't think she could do. She was here to make peace, but to bare all was still a task too impossible for her at present. Her silence was the only answer Tracey would be getting to that question, and she, too, seemed to have recognised that she'd overstepped her bounds.
"What's really goin' on? Why are you being nice to me suddenly?" she asked.
Daphne tried to smile, but only managed to pull one side of her lips up. Her positive mentality was gone, but for the time being her drive to fix things was still alive, so she continued with what she could.
"I'm sorry for shouting at you last night…" she said quietly.
"You're actually apologisin'?"
There was surprise in her tone. Daphne brushed loose hair from her face to look at her, but struggled to meet her eye-line fully.
"Yes. I was in the wrong. Why is that surprising?"
Tracey laughed before answering.
"Daphne, I've known you all my life and I've never seen you apologise to anybody!"
She frowned.
"That's an exaggeration."
"No, it's not."
Daphne had to forcibly direct herself from going down another one of these tangents.
"My point is…" she eased out, "I know you're just trying to help. I shouldn't take it out on you when you've done nothing but try and do what's best for me... So... what I'm saying is... I appreciate it, even if I can't accept it."
"Any reason you can't accept it?"
A sigh escaped her lips that was so loud it almost surprised herself.
"More than I could list... And you know that, Tracey! I'm past the point of trying to be in control anymore. I am in danger, yes, but I'm in too deep to back out now. I'm just doing what I can at this point. I can't explain it to myself, never mind anyone else."
Tracey groaned at her with equal volume.
"Come on, cut the cryptic shit, Daphne," she spat.
It was an aggressive sound, more akin to her attitude from last night.
"If you're involved in the Death Eaters then they're not going to let you just walk away. That is what we're talking about, right? You're a Death Eater now, aren't you?"
Daphne was silent.
She'd all but already confessed and implied such, but this was her first time directly being asked about it by anyone. She was too stunned to respond immediately. Even though they both knew the answer, the words struggled to leave her throat.
"It wasn't supposed to… I never meant for…" she tried but her words failed her.
Her stomach churned.
She gritted her teeth.
"Yeah?"
This was what she was here for. She wasn't going to back out now, she couldn't, she wouldn't let herself. She didn't care how it made her look, she didn't care about putting up the perfect version of herself anymore.
Her time being a coward was over now.
It was time to be honest, not just to Tracey, but to herself.
"I've bitten off more than I can chew..." she began slowly, then got louder, "... Of course I want out, but it's not that easy. And yes - because of my own doing - I'm aware. I tried to keep everyone happy and now nobody is happy and everyone is taking it out on me. I don't have any allies anymore and I'm not even safe in Hogwarts. I didn't want any of this, I never did! I was just too much of a coward to stand up for myself against it… Yes, I am a Death Eater."
Despite the shortness of what she said, those were some of the most difficult words to ever leave her throat. When she listened to them it didn't even sound like her talking.
Her eyes were closed, and it took a little while before she heard Tracey's response.
"How could you?"
She opened her eyes, and saw Tracey staring back her with a tense scowl
"They're murderers, Daphne! I know you're into your blood politics and everythin', but surely there's a better way?!"
The look Tracey was giving her would haunt her for days to come.
Daphne made quick to amend herself.
"I-I got in over my head, okay!? I was backed into a corner, I didn't want to - but faced with the alternative - it felt like the only thing that I could do. Obviously I regret it! But father forced me, my choice wasn't a factor!"
Her breathing had picked up and she paused to lick her lips. Tracey looked like she was about to say something else, but finally Daphne's brain got into gear and she spoke up again.
"Daddy beat the shit out of me after what I pulled at the Department of Mysteries, I wasn't about to throw my life away by fighting him further! So, yes! I convinced myself I could be this good, down-to-earth Death Eater that actually had a point and didn't resort to endless killings… But, no! It turns out you can't have your cake and eat it as well, and it took me way too long to realise that, because I'm a complete and utter idiot and now I'm branded for life because of it!"
She half-shouted her confession, by the time she finished she was panting for breath. A tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders, but it didn't feel as good as she'd been hoping it would. Now the truth was out there in the open. Escaping into the real world.
Her eyes closed again in an attempt to calm herself down and bring in the room around her. She waited for Tracey's response, which felt like it took a lot longer than it actually did.
"You've got the tattoo thingy?"
She opened her eyes but didn't respond. Of all the things she expected Tracey to react to in that rant, her mark wasn't one of them. Dumbfounded, instead of opening her mouth, she simply offered her left arm as an answer, where her sleeve rolled back to reveal bandages. Tracey's eyes sank to her arm and ogled it intensely, as though it were about to come loose and strangle her.
"Can I see it?" she asked after a second.
She limply shook her head, still breathing heavily.
"I've not taken the bandages off since I got it. I keep putting it off because then…" she took a deep, unsure breath, "... then it becomes real."
"You have to take them off eventually, pretty please?"
Daphne stared at her, the first annoyance rising in her all conversation. Tracey noticed and quickly turned her attention away from her arm.
"Okay - I'm sorry about what your dad did, Daffy. He's a dick, we all know that. But still, like… seriously? Was there no other alternative than to becoming a literal Death Eater? You could have run away? Reported him? Gone to Dumbledore? Somethin', anythin' other than that!"
Daphne, jaded, shook her head. She knew her words wouldn't be able to make her see what she had been going through, but also couldn't find it in her to stay quiet.
"He'd just get Astoria into it if I wasn't there... he needs an heir that makes him look good. Why, what are you implying?"
Tracey seemed closer than before. At some point Daphne had sat back down on the bed, she wasn't sure when, and now they were touching-knees.
"I'm askin'," her voice came in a heavy, hushed tone,"... if you're honestly tellin' me you aren't on board with any of it? I'm not accusin' you of anythin' - I'm not - but you've always been very up-tight with your views. You can tell me."
A realisation dawned on her like a ton of bricks.
Tracey didn't believe her. Of all the possibilities of how this conversation was going to go, her confession not being believed wasn't one of them.
Daphne stared her down.
"I've never been quiet about my beliefs, Tracey," she spoke with a suddenly stern voice, "I'm right wing and will stand up for what I believe. But..."
She paused to wet her lips and change her tone.
"... there is a big difference between people like me and the Death Eaters. I don't belong with them anymore than you do. Sure, okay? I don't like muggleborns in the school, but I'm not about to bully them for something that's out of their control."
She let out a frustrated breath. She moved her eye-line to the other-side of the room. Whether or not her words had any impact, and whether or not Tracey actually believed her now, she didn't care. She'd gone from defenceless to aggressive in such a short amount of time that her mind was still playing catch up. After all the struggle she had been through, after how difficult it was to bare her heart like that, the sheer nerve of Tracey for not believing her knocked her sick.
Tracey herself had backed off a few inches, again clearly aware that she had said the wrong thing. Daphne spoke up again before she had the chance.
"Can we not talk about this, please? I already accepted I was an idiot, I don't need you shitting on me for it as well."
"I'm not shittin' on you, I promise!" Tracey yelped. "You're alright - you regret it, I get that! I believe you, don't worry. I'm just tryin' to understand."
Those were the words Daphne wanted to hear in the first place, but they'd struck too late to dim her temper. She crossed her arms in annoyance, but said nothing.
"You were forced, I get it. Does anyone else know? What's Astoria said? What happens if Dumbledore finds out? Are you doing anythin' to fight against it?"
"Astoria doesn't know, she'd be heartbroken if she knew I was going the same way as father... Draco does, but I doubt he'll tell anyone. He took the mark the same night as me. Professor Snape is protecting us from the eyes of the other staff. Harry's probably figured it out by now, too; I all but told him straight when I left him. As far as I can tell, he hasn't told anyone either."
Tracey gave a laugh that was mostly just a quick exhale.
"Puttin' a lil' bit too much faith in him there, Daffy."
She pursed her lips, still unable to take her eyes away from the wall.
"Really, it should go without saying but, because it's you I'll say it anyway... this all stays between me and you. And I mean that."
She felt Tracey move to action beside her.
"I got you. Cross my heart and hope to die. Thank you for actually openin' up to me."
Her hand came to Daphne's knee, which if she was in a more energetic mood, she'd have pulled away from.
And that was it.
It had gone better than she had expected, but not as she had planned. She didn't imagine a huge argument was going to erupt from her confession, not with Tracey, anyway, but she could have definitely done without her intentions and morals getting pulled into question.
This was the difficult part over with, it was good. She had shared her problem now, it wasn't going to be down to just her anymore. Maybe it was just their close proximity to each other, or the fact that she'd just bared her heart to her, but she even felt less alone right now. It only lasted a few short seconds, but it was the most loved she'd felt since term started.
A rushing over of goosebumps swept her body as Daphne stood up.
"I'll have a look for that waistcoat for you," she said quickly.
Tracey nodded, jumping up to join her.
"Cheers. Anythin' I can do?"
"Not much. My dress needs some ironing but I'll do that, want me to do your stuff as well?"
Tracey gave an awkward laugh and tugged her blazer gently from the door, handing it to her.
"Yeah... if you don't mind. Cheers again."
Daphne took the blazer from her and folded it, the best she could, anyway, and tucked it under her arm.
"Do I need makeup or anythin' for on the night?" Tracey asked.
She took a quick glancing up and down of the girls face before answering.
"Maybe some concealer for spots. You'd look quite fetching in eyeliner, I also think."
Tracey mulled over her response, before sticking out her lip and nodding.
"Yeah, sure, I could do that."
"And - is it too much to ask that you please don't turn up wearing that awful thing on your head?"
Tracey broke out into a wide shit-guzzling grin and stuck her tongue out.
"You can take this hat off of my cold and decapitated head, Daphne. If it doesn't come, I don't either."
Daphne smiled, but it was a rehearsed and required one.
She'd been out here too long, her nerves had failed her and she wanted to retreat to isolation now. Her part was done. She had made the first move on the road to things getting better, that was an accomplishment. It didn't matter that she felt like crap now, the first step had been taken.
She'd probably spend the rest of the day in her room overthinking things and suffering as a result, but none of that would matter now. Her actions mattered, and she'd just acted for the first time in so long, in her own, genuine, best interest.
"Daffy?"
"Yeah?"
"You're an egotistical bitch, you know that?"
Tracey wasn't shouting anymore; now she was back to playing.
Of all insults she could have called her, there were definitely some less-accurate ones she could have said.
Daphne met her smile with one of her own.
"Coming from an attention-seeker and a whore, I'll take that as a compliment."
