Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K Rowling.

A/N: Howdy! I just realised that the anniversary for this story is coming up, and on that anniversary, which is on the 4th of August, I want to post a specific chapter: Chapter 68. In order to manage this, the updates will increase even further in tempo, you're welcome.

Why I want to post that specific chapter on the anniversary will become apparent, all I'll say now is that I can't wait for you to read it.

I hope you enjoy this one, cheers!

Chapter 63: A Walk in the Sunset

-Daphne-

Not for the first time in the last couple of weeks, I glanced towards the Gryffindor table, hoping that he would glance at me back.

It was as if I was invisible, he hadn't looked up and looked back in almost four weeks.

Every single afternoon, I'd gone to my room, hoping, praying that he would show up, just once.

I could still feel the eyes of everyone as I walked the halls, and I couldn't help but look down. The weight of a thousand stares was too heavy for me to bear.

I wasn't known as Potter's girlfriend anymore; I was known as his ex.

Later that evening, when I was sitting in the common room, buried in parchment, I tried to focus, and get the thousand assignments done. The billion terms, spells and charms I had to jot down escaped my mind as soon as I managed to catch them again. No matter what happened, I always found my thoughts returning to him.

The evenings spent with him, together in my room, alone, just the two of us, suddenly seemed much brighter in my mind. All I could do was remember those evenings, with an almost golden taint to them, and realise how utterly colourless life had been ever since I told him.

Father was safe, and helped the order arrange protections around their safehouses. My mother was safe, no doubt wandering around the house all day, fretting around every corner.

I was safe, something I hadn't been able to say in –what felt like– forever.

The only cost was Harry. When I saw him in class, or met him in the corridors, I wanted to speak to him. Tell him that every second since I told him, he hadn't left my mind once.

If only I could talk to him, one time, it didn't even matter if he insulted me and told me he never wanted to see me again, then, atleast, I could know.

Though I feared what I would see if I looked inside his green irises again. Hate. Contempt. Disgust.

I didn't know which was worse, but I deserved it, in the end.

I stood up, sending the countless scroll sprawling along the floor. I'd been sitting idly for weeks, I had to do something, take action. Waiting, feeling sorry for myself, wasn't an option, not anymore.

I packed my things up, as if in a haze, and left, intent on scouring the castle until I found the place he was always hiding in.

I went up and I went down. I went right and I went left. I went fast and I went slow.

It felt like I had walked across every corridor twice, and yet. . . he was nowhere to be found.

The only people about were prefects –who gave me warnings that curfew was due soon– and entangled couples, too distracted to even notice I was nearby.

It was as if Potter was a ghost, he was nowhere. It dawned on me, then, that Potter wasn't at the castle anymore. He must go somewhere else, and it was at that place he learned every single exceptional thing he could do.

But who was teaching him? Dumbledore? A member of the Order? Someone else?

When I returned to the common room, the lake black as coal above me, my legs were aching as if I had run a marathon.

But it wasn't the frustration that kept me from sleeping, it was the longing. No matter what I did, Harry wouldn't leave my mind. If only I could travel back in time, have a second chance. I feared it was already too late, I had crossed the line one time too many.

-()-

-Harry-

"Quicker!" Rowena shouted, sending another cluster of energy towards me.

I jumped up onto my feet again, snarling, glaring at her.

She was smiling, her chin raised as if I was a little child. Rowena was doing it intentionally, I knew it, still, it made my blood boil warm as the sun.

"Faster!" she shouted, as I was forced to find my way around spell after spell after spell. It felt like a never ending onslaught, but for every spell, I found myself dancing faster, joining the rhythm, becoming part of it.

Rowena conjured five wolves, who charged at me from every direction, without a single pause in her constant barrage. The wolves charged me, forcing me to jump out of the way, making me vulnerable to my master's spells.

But it was a trick I'd learned to beat. In the middle of the movement, I shouted, "lustragio," and in a heartbeat, I was behind my master, positioning her between me and the wolves. Before she could react, I sent a surge of flames towards her, which she could block, but the wolves could not. Their agonised screams filled my ears, making me smile in grim satisfaction.

"Well done," Rowena said, declining her head. "Perhaps you should—"

I blocked a spell which appeared behind me.

The corner of her lips curled into a smile. "Legilimency," she whispered, her tone low.

Instinctually, my body tensed, as if expecting a physical attack. I fought myself, and relaxed, my master's presence wasn't known to me yet, but I knew she was lurking in the edges of my psyche, waiting like a predator for the time to charge at her prey; like an eagle hovering above the terrified rodent.

Only that the rodent wasn't terrified, not anymore.

Slowly but surely, I pushed. Putting as much power into it as I could, I pushed with all my might. It was like trying to clear one's head after one had just woken up, it worked, ever so slowly, I felt the faint pressure, which I'd barely known was there, recede.

I came back to reality, with my master staring at me, her eyes flickering with surprise for a moment. "An adequate approach," she said. "But not perfect."

Not leaving her any more time for chatting, I began my onslaught again. We danced together, both of us fully aware that the duel wasn't about to end anytime soon. The rhythm was always one beat too fast to me, every time I caught up –sweating and red as a lobster– my master would increase the tempo, making me flail in desperation, until I was either pushed up against the wall, or resting on the ground.

However, in some rare cases, I caught up to her dancing faster and faster, until I was the one with the tunes. That was when my master's face would lit up in a strange emotion; an emotion I'd only seen the last couple of weeks.

I stepped aside from a spear of steel flying towards me, just as the spear was level with me, I grabbed it out of the hair, time slowing for just a moment. Flinging myself around, I threw the spear towards my master, nailing her to the wall.

I stood frozen for a second, as the thud and the crack echoed in my head. A thick, red trail was running down the wall, gathering in a pool in the ground. Her purple eyes were dim and dead.

Then she turned to ashes and it was already too late. My wand was knocked out of my grasp, leaving me lying on the ground, with a shadow towering over me.

"Did you really think I'd go down that easily?" my master said and extended her hand.

I got back to my feet. "You've never used that spell before," I pointed out.

"Voldemort will use spells you've never seen before," she countered. "You've got to be ready for everything, you have to be–"

"Creative. Yes, I've heard," I finished. I scooped up my wand and walked towards my armchair.

"You've improved," Rowena said as she settled down in front of me. "More than usual, these past couple of weeks."

I shrugged. "I don't have anything better to do."

Rowena looked inside the fireplace. "Your betrothed has been walking around the castle again," she said.

I raised my eyebrows. "Again?"

Rowena nodded. "Here, take a look."

I leaned forwards, staring into the purple fire.

"Remember what I told you, connect with the flames," Rowena said. "Connect to them, as if they are a piece of yourself."

I looked inside the fireplace intently, as if my gaze was about to freeze the inferno.

From the flames, a hazy picture emerged. It was blurry and filled with ash, but in the middle, the blonde figure in black and green robes walked, alone, in a corridor.

"At least she's dedicated," Rowena said.

"Ah yes, dedication completely makes up for everything she's done."

Rowena looked at me for a few seconds. "Perhaps you could talk to her, just see what she wants."

I looked at the blonde figure as she stepped inside another classroom, scanning it for any trace of me. "I'm tired of granting her favours. I– I actually liked her, I actually had fun with her, and all that time, she was planning to stab me in the back. She was trying to get me to kill myself. How the fuck am I supposed to spend time with someone like that?"

Rowena sighed, not for the first time, I got the impression that she wanted to say something, but refrained from. "Have you considered what she might have lost if she refused Voldemort's plan?" Rowena smiled at me, her purple eyes sad. "And Harry, do you have fun now? Are you happy?" she asked. "When was the last time you had fun?"

The girl in the flames punched the wall, her shoulders were shaking violently. Australia, I thought to myself, in answer to the question.

Just before Australia.

-()-

-Hermione-

"I need you to focus," Helena snapped. The colourless eyes were sharp as steel.

"Yes, master," I said. "I'm trying."

"Trying, are you?" she mocked. "Your friend hasn't been trying, has he?" Helena sneered at me, as if I was a pile of rubbish. "Your friend has been succeeding, something you seem incapable of doing."

I lifted my wand, again, and pointed it at the fox inside the cage.

"Kill it," Helena said.

The fox's eyes were huge globes, wet in the dim light of the classroom. It reminded me of a newly born pup.

"Kill it."

In one motion, I flicked my wand, closed my eyes and turned around. I could hear the whimper, I could feel the life escape his body, I could see the dead eyes in front of me, as if my eyes were wide open.

"Well done," Helena said, clapping her hands, even though they made no sound. "Those were your first steps towards something greater, Hermione."

I opened my eyes again, trying –and failing– to keep my eyes away from the dead animal. "I don't see the point in killing foxes."

Helena looked at me, her face blank as a sheet of paper. "This isn't about killing small animals, Granger, I damn well hope you realise that. This is about you chaining yourself by trying to be a good person." Helena floated over to me, until her face was mere centimetres from mine. "Victory requires payment in sacrifice, Ms. Granger. You only have one job: to make sure that you aren't the one paying for it."

-()-

-Daphne-

It was afternoon, again. I was in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror.

The dark bags under my eyes felt heavy, as if my eyelids were about to fall down at any moment. Despite this, I couldn't stop, stopping meant giving up, and that wasn't acceptable.

Potter couldn't leave the castle every night, and even if there was only a 1% chance that he was there that night, I had to try.

After a splash of cold water in my face, I left the dormitory behind to walk to the castle. I'd become a ghost the last couple of days, saying nothing, doing nothing, except walking around the castle. I wanted to become human again.

As I left the dormitory, I turned left, like every other night. I followed the path like there was a trail of blood on the floor, leading me to where Potter was. I turned left and I turned right. I went up and I went down; just like every other afternoon.

I walked around a corner –I didn't know where in the castle I was– and saw a door slam shut, just by the end of the corridor. I frowned, and stepped towards it, my steps solid and firm. That had to be it, prefects never shut the doors, and lovesick couples, well, they were usually more discreet.

I tried to open the door, but felt it unyielding to my grasp. I put my ear against the door, trying to hear if there was anyone inside.

"–could have gone faster," a muffled voice said from beyond the door.

"I don't care if it takes five days, or fifty years," another voice, darker and colder, said. "I've waited almost a thousand years for this, I don't mind waiting a couple more."

There came a reply from the other voice I couldn't quite catch; from that point on, there was nothing but unintelligible garble from beyond the door. I took a step away from the door eventually, admitting that whoever was inside would remain unknown.

I was just about to continue my stroll down the corridor, when a ghost burst through the door I'd just been eavesdropping. The ghost froze in place, as if seen by a basilisk.

She smiled at me warmly; it made a shiver run down my spine. The ghost turned around and floated back through the door, into the room.

I cast a look around, but no one was near. There were no paintings, no suits of armour, only pale, useless torches. I fumbled for my wand to get it out of my pocket.

The door slammed open, revealing a pitch black interior. A dark silhouette stood in the doorframe, one of the hands grasping the outline of a wand.

"What are you doing here, Greengrass?" Granger said, and stepped into the corridor.

I didn't say anything, my eyes were fixed at the wand hanging loosely at her side. Granger stood tall, relaxed even.

"Were you eavesdropping?" she continued, taking a couple of slow steps towards me. "That's not terribly polite."

I rolled my eyes, but took a couple of steps back. Granger smiled coldly. Faster than I could react, she had flicked her wand, and a red spell struck me in the chest. I felt my wand get tugged out of my grip.

I stood there for a moment, motionless, wondering what was going to happen. Granger walked up to me, inspecting me as if I was an animal about to be dissected. "I don't want you to speak about this to anyone," Granger said.

I still didn't react.

"I know I can't trust you to keep quiet, so there is only one choice." Granger took a step away from me, and looked me in the eyes. Her eyes were firm as rock, but her wand trembled, ever so slightly, in her grasp.

"Oblivia–"

Granger's wand sailed out of her grasp, landing somewhere behind me with a clattering against the cold ground.

Somehow, I didn't need to turn around to know who it was, it was just that feeling of safety which came over me, which could only come from one person.

"Harry, you don't–"

"Hermione," Potter cut off, his voice sharp as the edge of a knife. "We'll talk later."

Granger opened her mouth, glared at me like I'd killed her entire family, and stormed away, picking up her wand as a consolation prize.

"Thank you," I said. I looked up and met his eyes, I expected them to be filled with disgust, contempt. Instead, he handed me my wand. "You care for a walk?"

"Sure," I said, joining in step beside him. It felt great to be back, just to be close to him, to feel his scent. There was half a metre between us, I longed to close that space again, to be able to walk with his hand in mine again.

"Did you see us on the map?" I asked quietly, for some reason feeling a bubbling in my stomach.

"Something like that," Potter said vaguely. "I wanted to talk to you, actually."

"You did?" I said, hating how utterly desperate, and hopeful, I sounded.

"Yes, but then I saw you and Granger together. . . which, well, that combination usually doesn't end very well."

"No," I said. "She was speaking to someone inside the classroom. Do you know who that was?"

Potter frowned, and led me into the entrance hall. "I will soon," he said, and I believed him.

The doors of Hogwarts swung open, revealing a horizon which could have been from a painting; bright orange, as if the sky was burning behind the dark silhouettes of the trees.

"It's beautiful," Potter said absently. He stopped walking for a moment, and watched me; his face was torn in the light.

He started walking again, and I hurried after, like a little fangirl; I hated myself for it, but I didn't want to stop following him either.

"Potter," I said eventually, as we walked beside the lake. "I– I'm sorry about everything."

Potter's face remained emotionless. "Your father has been helpful," he said. "He's strengthened the protective enchantments around many Order member's houses. It's not incredible, but better than nothing."

"That's good," I said.

"Your mother has also been. . . helpful," Potter continued, as if he hadn't heard me. "She knew a surprising amount of secrets which most higher-ups in the Ministry who would prefer to remain quiet."

"That's good."

"Even your sister has taken it well, she's been going to some kind of defence club, I think."

I swallowed. "That's good."

Potter paused in his step. "Greengrass, please," he said.

"What?"

He stared off into the distance, out over the lake. "You're terrified," he said, sounding strangely amused. "You're afraid I'll be upset with you."'

"I–"

"It's alright," Potter said. "Because I can't really think of anything you can do which would make me more upset with you."

I felt my heart sink like a stone thrown into the black lake. It was over, after all.

"I'm sorry," I said pathetically, wanting to hit myself as soon as the words left my mouth..

Potter smiled at me, making my stomach flutter, despite me trying my best to not let it do so. "Greengrass, please," he said again. "If you're going to walk around like you're terrified of uttering one word wrong, I don't see the point in talking to you." He paused, and looked at me, almost fondly. "I had fun, you know, all of the insults."

"So did I," I said.

"Please insult me," Potter said, a shadow of a smile appearing on his face.

I smiled shyly. "That's an easy task to accomplish."

"Because there are so many things about me to insult?"

"I see you're learning," I said, my voice wavering.

Potter and I started walking again, slowly, but surely around the lake. At first, it was small talk between us, like we were a pair of babies just learning how to walk together.

Then, after we had reached just about halfway around the lake, when Hogwarts was on the other side, Potter froze in his step, as if struck by an invisible spell.

"Greengrass?"

"Yes?"

Potter looked at his feet. "Are you happy?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I was happy," I said, refusing to look him in the eye. "But then. . ." I trailed off, thinking about the bleak last few weeks.

"I am thankful you told me the truth, Daphne," Harry said. "But part of me wished you hadn't."

I frowned and looked at Harry closely. Half of his face was turned away from me, half of his face shone in the sun, the other half, in shadow. He looked shattered, like he was nothing but a smashed vase, whose millions of pieces were only glued together by one thin little thread.

Potter stared out over the lake, his face screaming bitterness. "Have you thought about what we would be like if you never told me?" he wondered.

"I don't regret telling you," I said.

Potter glanced at me, there was desperation in his eyes, like he was on the edge of an abyss; where he would fall, I couldn't fathom.

"I've thought about it every day," Potter said. "Every second I'm not with– every second of freetime, I can only think about what would have been, if you didn't tell me. . ." Potter smiled at me, running a hand through his hair. "We'd be walking hand in hand, smiling. . ." A red tinge creeped into Potter's face. "Kissing."

I decided to take a risk, taking a step closer to him, until our faces were mere centimetres apart. "We could be, again," I whispered.

Potter's eyes stared inside mine for many moments. "I want to," he whispered. "I do so want to. . ."

He took a step away from me, and turned around. "But if we do that. . . now. . . then it's not for the right reason."

Potter turned around, his hair a little dishevelled, his eyes seeming to spin in their sockets. "I want to kiss a girl because I like her, because I love her, Daphne. I'm not sure that will happen with you."

"I understand," I said. "I think that's what I want, too."

Potter sat down on a rock, staring out at the blank surface of the lake. "Do you know why I gave you another chance, Daphne?" he said softly. "Do you know why I allowed you to turn my face into a pig's last year?"

I sat down next to him, just so far apart our shoulders didn't touch. "Because we have to marry each other?"

"Well that too, but there was another reason." He remained silent, waiting for me to guess again.

"Because I'm fucking hot?" I said.

Potter chuckled, I could feel my cheeks burning.

"Nope," he said again.

I scoffed, looking at him expectantly.

"I'm not saying it's wrong, but it's not the reason I gave you a second chance."

I threw my hands up in the air. "Alright then, what is the reason?"

"I made a promise to a friend," Potter said. "I promised her that I would try to be happy." Potter closed his eyes, staring at the ground. "That promise was the last thing I said to her, and I couldn't not honour it."

All of a sudden, I was gripped with an intense desire to meet Harry's friend from Nanshu. Did I owe her the entire relationship?

"So I thought: maybe, just maybe, we could be happy, despite everything which happened between us and it worked," Potter said, smiling as he stared into nothingness –looking into the past. "I was happy with you, Daphne. . . I didn't even realise it until you told me."

"Harry," I said. "Don't say that you wish that I hadn't told you. Do you really want to live in a lie?"

Harry shrugged, the indifference of it breaking my heart. "I've lived with nothing but the truth for years, Daphne, and what did that give me?" He laughed to himself, crazed. "The only thing to make me truly happy ever since– ever since she died, turned out to be a lie."

"But it wouldn't have been real," I said, grasping his hand on my own.

"My happiness was real," Harry said. "Even if the source of it wasn't so." He turned so that he was facing me, his face was close enough that I could see every little detail of his irises. "Why did you tell me, Daphne?" he said softly.

I didn't break our gaze for a moment. "For as long as I can remember, I've always worked towards one goal." I paused for a moment. "And that goal was to be happy. Whatever I thought would bring me closer to that goal, I did; but the thing is, despite all of my hard work, I never got any closer. If anything, it seemed to slip farther and farther away. Everything I ever do, I do because I think it'll make me happy."

Potter didn't reveal any emotion in his face, but I thought I saw a tiny flicker of emotion in his eyes.

"I was so focused on reaching the island on the horizon, that I didn't realise that I had already rowed upon one."

Potter smiled at me, his eyes warm, if only a little so. "How poetic," he said. "You should become a poet."

I blushed, but squeezed his hand, which I realised was still intertwined with mine. "If you want me to be blunt. . ." I swallowed, and looked him in the eyes, trying to convey the honesty I felt. "I thought killing you, ridding myself of the contract, becoming free, would make me happy. I didn't even contemplate the notion that you could be the one to make me so."

"Did I really make you?"

I looked at him. "Why do you think I risked my entire family, Harry?"

He shook his head, smiling to himself. "Because I'm fucking hot?" he said.

I squeezed his hand again, feeling electricity run up my spine when he did the same.

"That too," I said, leaning in towards his face. "That too."

-()-

-Draco-

"Thank you Draco," Lucas said when I handed him his essay back. "You're a lifesaver."

"Your work wasn't bad," I said, because it hadn't been. "It just lacked some refinement."

"Exactly," Lucas said. "You've saved me from Snape, Draco, I'll never be able to repay you."

"Considering the amount of times I've 'saved' you, you must be indebted for life."

"Shut up," Lucas said. "You enjoy fixing my homework, just admit it!"

"Ah yes, it's so enjoyable to read your barely comprehensible essays with more grammatical errors than a bloody poem," I said dryly. "I'm so thankful you let me help you."

Lucas rolled his eyes, then I heard the door swing open behind me, and Lucas' eyes brightened. "Your friend is back," he whispered.

I turned around to see Astoria standing in the doorframe, uncharacteristically alone.

"Would you give us a moment, Lucas?"

"Of course," he said. "I'll leave you to your triangle-drama."

I glared after him when he darted out of the classroom.

"Cute friend," Astoria remarked coldly.

"Thanks Astoria, you're almost as cheerful as your sister."

Astoria's right eye twitched. "Have you heard?"

"Have I heard what?"

"They're together again," Astoria said, her lips curling into a contemptful sneer. "Tracey says that someone saw them kiss out on the grounds."

"Yes, Tracey is such a trustworthy source of information," I said. "Didn't she tell people that Granger and Weasley were a couple last year?"

Astoria shrugged. "Doesn't matter, because they really are back together, okay? Just trust me."

"Alright," I conceded, trying not to let my mind stray to places –to images– I didn't want it to. "So what about it?" I asked casually.

The black-haired copy of her sister looked at me disapprovingly. "What do you mean by that?" she asked. "You've run after Daphne like you snort love potion before breakfast every morning."

"It's not that bad," I said. "And. . . I think she likes –or liked– me too."

Astoria scoffed. "What? Did she tell you that?" The girl rolled her eyes. "Draco, I know my sister, she doesn't like you, she likes what she can get out of you."

"Daphne is nice, Astoria," I said calmly. "I get that you have a sibling rivalry and everything, but trust me, Daphne isn't just a cold hearted ice-queen."

"Really?" Astoria said. "Has she ever done anything for you?"

"Yes," I said.

"Like what?"

"She's been with me," I said. "That's worth more than any favour."

Astoria sighed. "You're fucking awful," she said. "Honestly, Draco, it's kind of pathetic, you should stand up for yourself one fucking time. I mean, please, for the love of Merlin, do something for yourself for once, not for my goddamn sister."