The Calm After The Storm

Chapter One - The World Breathe's Again

Daphne Greengrass's profound sense of gratitude towards her parents was woven into the very fabric of her upbringing, and it radiated throughout her idyllic childhood. Love and security were the tapestry upon which her early years had been embroidered, enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth and affection. The sprawling Greengrass estate, an architectural marvel blending traditional elegance with modern opulence, was the sanctuary where these blessings unfurled in all their splendor.

The privileged life she led, a consequence of her father's esteemed lineage and considerable wealth, was a source of envy for many. The imposing Greengrass manor, nestled amidst acres of lush, manicured gardens, stood as a symbol of their status and prosperity. Its stately halls echoed with a sense of history, its walls adorned with priceless works of art and generations of family portraits.

Yet, Daphne's parents were not content to merely bestow their daughter with material riches. They were diligent guardians of her moral compass, emphasizing the importance of recognizing her exceptional good fortune. Within the hallowed halls of their opulent home, they instilled in her a profound awareness of the rarity of her circumstances in a world rife with disparities. Their lessons were not mere words; they were the very essence of her upbringing.

As she ventured into the realm of education, her resolve remained unwavering. Throughout her years at the venerable Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Daphne approached her studies with unwavering dedication. The castle's majestic spires, ancient tapestries that whispered secrets of centuries past, and the enchanted atmosphere of the Great Hall during feasts all left an indelible mark on her.

Amid the annual school theatrics, she remained steadfast in her pursuit of knowledge, paying little heed to the frivolities that often enveloped her peers. The Yule Ball, a glittering affair that bathed the Hogwarts grounds in a sea of enchantment, was the only significant social gathering she attended during her fourth year. Throughout her schooling, she skillfully evaded entanglements with the opposite sex, preferring to focus on her academics.

Most notably, she made a conscious effort to steer clear of the tumultuous rivalry that had long simmered between the houses of Slytherin and Gryffindor. Her ability to maintain a sense of neutrality and avoid taking sides was a testament to her poise and discernment. These qualities allowed her to navigate her seven years at Hogwarts with a remarkable absence of drama, a feat that earned her admiration and respect.

However, her final year at the esteemed school would prove to be an exception to her tranquil journey. It was during this time that her family's commitment to neutrality faced its most severe test. The dark lord and his fanatical followers descended upon the wizarding world with a ferocity that left no corner untouched. Daphne, who had always regarded her father as a paragon of wisdom and discretion, found herself both curious and profoundly grateful for his ability to navigate the treacherous terrain of their changing world.

As she thought back to her school years, Daphne couldn't help but reflect on the modest size of her social circle, a direct consequence of her unwavering focus on her studies. True, she was not without friends. Tracey Davis, a fellow Slytherin with an irreverent sense of humor, occupied a cherished place among her closest confidantes. The vivacious and caring Hannah Abbott, along with the fiercely loyal Susan Bones, had forged enduring bonds with Daphne, their friendship blossoming within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. Lisa Turpin, an intelligent and witty Ravenclaw, had also become an integral part of their tight-knit group, their shared experiences creating unbreakable ties that transcended house boundaries.

Daphne had long been content with the comforting embrace of her family and the connections they maintained within their social circles. However, this contentment was soon to be disrupted when her sister, Astoria, introduced a most unexpected guest into their home. The shock was palpable, and it took all the elocution lessons they had received from their grandmother to prevent Daphne from involuntarily spitting out her tea when Astoria revealed not only the identity of their guest but also the astonishing revelation that they were in the early throes of a romantic entanglement with none other than Draco Malfoy, the heir to the disgraced Malfoy name.

Daphne had always believed that her sister possessed better taste when it came to choosing romantic partners. And while she had dutifully sworn not to openly express her displeasure regarding Draco, she had made no such vow to refrain from harboring a deep internal disdain for him. The one solace in this vexing situation was that the blond wizard's once-swollen ego had been profoundly humbled by the fall of the dark lord and his father's incarceration in Azkaban. It was only a last-minute testimony by none other than Harry Potter himself that had spared Draco from the same fate, a testimony that revolved around Mrs. Malfoy's deception of the dark lord regarding Potter's demise, a ruse that ultimately allowed Harry to surprise and vanquish Voldemort in the climactic battle at Hogwarts.

Nonetheless, whether it was a genuine change of heart on Mrs. Malfoy's part or a result of Draco's awakening to the grim realities of bigotry and war, the Ministry had extracted a heavy toll from the Malfoy family as part of the reparations for their involvement in the conflict. Daphne's father had found some amusement in observing how the darker wizarding families had been on the brink of launching into fervent arguments and rants against such a punishment. However, they wisely held their tongues, knowing all too well that drawing undue attention to themselves could be a perilous misstep in these post-war days.

Britain was undergoing a gradual process of healing, with a few of the bolder students who had bravely fought in the Battle of Hogwarts readily enlisting in the ranks of the Aurors. Under the capable leadership of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Ministry had become relentless in its mission to eradicate the deep-seated corruption within its walls. Those who possessed the wisdom to see the writing on the wall had made their hasty exits, although this act of fleeing did little to save them from the relentless pursuit of justice. Not a day passed in the immediate aftermath of the battle without the front pages of the newspapers showcasing the apprehension of Death Eaters or snatchers, and in rare instances, their ultimate demise.

"Daphne?" The soft sound of her name drew her attention away from her momentary detachment, gently tugging her back from her thoughts and the gentle refuge of her own contemplation. It was an interruption that brought her back to the stark reality of her current situation. Across from her, a gentleman sat, formally dressed and donning a confident smile. In his mind, this was a date, a moment of connection, but for Daphne, it was far from that.

She shifted in her seat, just slightly, a subtle flinch betraying her distraction as she turned her focus to the man in front of her.

"My apologies," she responded with practiced grace, lifting the crystal-clear glass of wine to her lips. She took a sip, the liquid cool against her tongue, its flavor a welcome distraction. "Something you said just jogged my memory of an incident earlier today."

Jeremy Orpington, her date for the evening, nodded understandingly. His features bore a genial expression, an attempt at charming reassurance. Daphne couldn't help but sigh internally; Jeremy was undoubtedly an intelligent and pleasant wizard, but he had yet to ignite any spark within her.

Daphne's mind briefly wandered, considering the peculiarities of the wizarding world's dating scene. It often seemed that pureblooded men carried with them an air of entitlement, believing their attention was a privilege. Some harbored ulterior motives, coveting the wealth of the witches' families. Muggleborns, whom she bore no prejudice against, occasionally regarded her as a valuable commodity, treating her like a prized object rather than a person. Then there were the half-bloods, who sometimes carried an ironic air of arrogance, presuming themselves superior in both the magical and non-magical realms.

Returning to the present, she steered the conversation away from her ruminations, adopting a polite tone. "No need to be concerned. Did you enjoy your meal?"

Their dining experience had taken place in one of Diagon Alley's recently opened restaurants, an establishment where culinary excellence met the modernity of the magical world. Daphne's voice held a hint of appreciation, and while the food had indeed been quite good, she couldn't deny that the gradual return to normalcy in the world around them was the most heartwarming aspect of the evening. People going about their daily lives was a sight she had missed.

Jeremy smiled in response to her inquiry. "I did, although I found your company to be the most delightful part of the evening, Daphne." As he spoke, his hand found its way to the table, positioned subtly near hers, an unspoken invitation. However, Daphne needed no excuse or comment to evade his advances, for an abrupt commotion near the restaurant's entrance seized the attention of everyone present.

The heavy wooden door swung open, revealing a chaotic scene with reporters clamoring for a piece of their target. Their loud camera shutters and relentless questions about Mr. Potter filled the air.

"Mr. Potter!"

"Do you have a statement about the latest capture?"

"Will you be attending the Ministry Yule Ball, and do you have a plus one?"

"Will you be bringing someone special?"

"Will you—"

The cacophony of voices was silenced by an unexpected eruption, a female voice cutting through the noise like a sharp blade. "Will you vultures just piss off!" Her voice dripped with irritation, leaving the reporters gasping in outrage. In a swift motion, the restaurant door was unceremoniously slammed shut in their intrusive faces.

Daphne's attention shifted, and she noted that the source of the irate voice was none other than Susan Bones, a respected and athletic witch. Susan's cheeks displayed a faint blush of embarrassment as she muttered an apology under her breath. Her close proximity to Potter, who stood a tad taller than her, had saved her from the journalists' encroachment. A diligent waiter rushed over to address the situation, assuring their privacy.

The restaurant's patrons, initially captivated by the commotion, gradually returned to their meals and private conversations. However, many curious eyes continued to dart over to the pair near the entrance. Speculation filled the air, with many patrons undoubtedly wondering if Harry Potter and Susan Bones were romantically involved.

Daphne, however, knew the truth. Both Potter and Susan were dedicated partners within the Auror Department, their collaboration forged through countless missions and shared hardships. She recalled Susan's initial concerns about going unnoticed while working alongside the man who had defeated the dark lord.

Jeremy, seemingly undeterred by the recent commotion, leaned in to express his thoughts. "I didn't think Lady Bones would be so forthright in her intentions towards Potter, I must say."

Intrigued by his comment, Daphne inquired further, "What leads you to that conclusion?"

"Well, you saw that; she was very quick to come to his defense," Jeremy replied, his brows furrowing in thought.

"They work together in the Auror Department," Daphne explained calmly. "She was defending her partner. I don't see anything amiss with that."

Jeremy pondered her words for a moment. "Hmm, I would have thought Potter could defend himself, though. I know the tales of his exploits may be embellished a bit, but—"

Daphne's eyebrows arched at the word "embellished." It was a common occurrence in Britain, especially following Potter's victory over one of the most formidable wizards in generations. Men with fragile egos often sought to measure themselves against him. Her hopes that Jeremy might not be one of those wizards were diminishing.

"Well, surely he didn't take the Dark Lord down alone?" Jeremy continued, his tone carrying an air of skepticism. "He was only seventeen for Merlin's sake, and there was an entire school full of Aurors and professors. I've always suspected it was a bit of inventive writing."

Daphne, drawing from her own experiences, responded with authority, "As someone who was there in those last moments, I assure you there was no embellishment."

Jeremy appeared taken aback by her assertion, his initial certainty wavering. "But, the Dark Lord, he..."

"Was killed by the man you just saw walk in," she interrupted, subtly indicating Harry Potter with a nod in his direction. "Students didn't dare intervene, professors were locked in fierce battles with his followers, just as the Aurors were." She could still remember the raw power that had been displayed between the two wizards, it was frankly terrifying to have been near. She had been around Potter in lessons before, but never had she felt that raw energy from him in the past.

Her gaze drifted to the nearby table where Potter and Susan had settled, both engrossed in perusing the restaurant's menus. Potter, with his impeccable fashion sense, had adopted a smart ensemble—dark gray trousers and a matching waistcoat, complementing his crisp white shirt. The year since his departure from Hogwarts had clearly seen him refine his sense of style. Susan, her vibrant red hair neatly tied back, sported navy blue trousers paired with a pristine white blouse. Had Daphne not been privy to their professional partnership, she might have suspected a romantic connection between them.

"Well, if he is indeed that powerful, then I suppose we should be thankful he's an Auror," Jeremy mused thoughtfully. "I know my father would like to meet him. I might swing by their table as we leave."

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Daphne hesitated before responding, "From what I know of Potter—"

Jeremy's sudden interruption caught her off guard, and she observed a shift in his expression. Calculation, shock, and a hint of insecurity danced behind his eyes.

"You know Potter?" he inquired with evident surprise.

"No, I don't," she clarified swiftly, noting his emotional turmoil. "Not personally, at least. But I did go to school with him for six out of seven years, and from what I observed, he does not relish his fame and would not be thrilled at you going over." Her determination to devise an excuse to escape a second date solidified, especially in light of Jeremy's apparent eagerness to exploit her potential connection with Potter.

Jeremy, despite his initial shock, responded with disappointment. "That's a shame; it would have certainly made introductions easier."

Daphne couldn't help but sigh inwardly. "Even if I did know Potter personally, do you think a dinner engagement with someone else would be the best time for such introductions?" Her words concealed a thinly veiled exasperation, and the remnants of any interest in the date had all but vanished.

Jeremy, however, seemed undeterred. He attempted to reassure her with a smile. "Don't fret, Daphne. It's just business, and then you'll be the center of my attention."

With that declaration, he rose from his seat, standing tall and flashing her what he believed was a charming smile. He then proceeded to make his way toward the table occupied by Harry Potter and Susan Bones, leaving Daphne with a sense of relief as her date drew to a close.

"Idiot," Daphne muttered under her breath, her voice a soft exhalation of exasperation as she began the task of gathering her belongings. The decision to make her exit was clear, a swift and graceful escape from the impending confrontation she had no interest in. Yet, there lingered a small part of her, a sliver of curiosity, that tugged at her resolve. It whispered to her, enticing her to stay and witness the inevitable showdown that was about to unfold.

Her gaze settled on the scene before her, an impending collision of personalities that promised entertainment, if nothing else. Jeremy, her date for the evening, now the unwitting protagonist, approached Potter's table with an air of misplaced confidence. She couldn't hear the words exchanged between them, the restaurant's ambient noise serving as a shroud of secrecy, but the expressions on their faces painted a vivid picture.

Amusement danced in Susan's eyes, a mischievous glint that accompanied the curve of her lips as she leaned back in her seat. It was as if the red-haired witch had an uncanny sense, detecting a pair of eyes on her. Slowly, she turned her gaze towards Daphne, their eyes locking in a silent exchange that transcended words. In that moment, recognition flashed across Susan's face, and the two witches found a unique form of communication, their eyes speaking volumes in a language of their own.

Susan mouthed the question, "This is your date?" The astonishment in her wide eyes was unmistakable.

Daphne, with an eye roll that conveyed her exasperation, mouthed back, "Unfortunately." Her lips curled into a wry smile, a shared understanding passing between them.

Their silent conversation drew the attention of Harry Potter himself. Partially obscured by Jeremy's presence, he leaned around, his gaze locking onto Daphne's with striking emerald eyes. His expression was clear, a mixture of disapproval and disappointment, a silent commentary on her choice of companion.

As the awkward confrontation played out at the neighboring table, Daphne's emotions swirled in a curious blend of relief and intrigue. At least this moment made up for the venture devoid of chemistry or connection.

With a discreet sigh of relief, Daphne gathered her belongings, ready to execute her exit strategy. Her footsteps, light and graceful, carried her towards the restaurant's exit. However, just before slipping away from the scene, she couldn't resist the temptation of one last glance back at the unfolding drama.

Susan and Harry engaged in what appeared to be a hushed conversation, their expressions and gestures speaking of camaraderie and understanding. Jeremy, on the other hand, seemed increasingly uncomfortable, squirming under the weight of Harry's stern gaze.

With a sense of satisfaction tugging at the corners of her lips, Daphne finally made her exit from the restaurant, leaving behind the spectacle at the neighboring table. Her evening had taken an unexpected turn, a twist of fate she couldn't have foreseen when she first arrived, and she couldn't help but wonder how the drama would unfold after her departure.

…

Daphne sighed in relief as she gingerly kicked off her powder blue heels in the well-appointed hallway of her parents' elegant home. The sensation of liberation from the discomfort of her footwear was an almost heavenly experience, particularly after the trying evening she had just endured. The high, stiletto heels had been fashionable but torturous, and she was grateful she didn't have to invent any more excuses to endure them.

With a newfound sense of freedom, she proceeded to stroll down the hallway. Her steps were unhurried, heading for the sweeping wooden stairway that gracefully curved upwards to the upper floors of the house. Despite the relatively early hour, she felt no desire to face the potential inquisition that awaited her in the living room.

The very thought of her mother's meticulous inquiries or, even worse, her father's protective scrutiny sent a shiver down her spine. A hot bubble bath and a few chapters from a good book before retiring for the night sounded like the perfect remedy for her evening.

"Is that you, Daphne dear?" her mother's mellifluous voice resonated from the inviting living room. Daphne paused for a moment, closing her eyes briefly. She understood that the wards guarding their home would have alerted her parents to her arrival.

Resigned to her fate, she made the decision to turn away from the elegant staircase. Instead, she ventured further down the softly lit hallway, her footsteps carrying her leftward into the living room. There, her mother reclined gracefully on the plush sofa, cradling a cup of steaming tea, and her father, Thomas Greengrass, leaned back comfortably in an armchair, engrossed in his newspaper.

"Mother, Father, I hope you had a good evening," Daphne greeted them, her tone laced with genuine kindness. She knew that her parents often enjoyed their quiet evenings together and didn't want to disrupt their tranquility.

"Isabella, just ask the poor girl about her date and leave her in peace," her father chimed in, his voice carrying a touch of gruff tenderness. He momentarily lowered the newspaper to cast Daphne a sympathetic glance, his paternal instincts clearly evident.

Her mother, Isabella, acknowledged her husband's straightforwardness with a gentle smile before directing her warm, inquisitive gaze toward Daphne. "Blunt as ever, love," she commented with a hint of amusement. "Given it's early, I presume it did not go well?"

Daphne responded to her parents' concern with a grateful smile, appreciating their genuine interest in her well-being.

"Do I need to hex him," her father quipped, a touch of protectiveness underlying his words.

Settling gracefully onto the sofa next to her mother, Daphne sighed softly, the rich upholstery enveloping her with comfort. "Well, there was just no spark for me. He was pleasant enough, at least until Potter arrived, and then the peacocking started."

"Harry Potter was at the same restaurant? He is a bit of a recluse, so that must have been an exciting scene!" Isabella responded with curiosity, her expressive eyes lighting up with interest. "What did Jeremy do?"

Daphne continued her narrative, her words painting a vivid picture of the evening's events. "Well, firstly, he started off by claiming that the papers had embellished Potter's defeat of the Dark Lord because he hadn't hexed the press that hounded him into the restaurant," she recounted.

Her father couldn't help but snort in amusement from behind the newspaper. "I bet that went down well. Everyone knows the great Harry Potter cannot stand pomp."

Daphne nodded in agreement. "I wouldn't know," she admitted. "Potter did look rather annoyed, however. He was with Susan Bones for a meal, so I don't think he appreciated his personal time being interrupted."

"Ah, well, that is a shame," her mother commented sympathetically. "What will you do for the Yule Ministry party?"

Daphne leaned back, her thoughts drifting toward the upcoming event. "I don't mind going without a date; it's not required, after all."

Her father, a hint of pride in his voice, added, "Indeed, a Greengrass lady does not need an escort, after all."

Daphne lingered with her parents for a while longer, engaged in a pleasant conversation about her work and the uneventful date she had just experienced. They shared stories about the current affairs in the wizarding world, and the cozy atmosphere of their family home enveloped them, providing a comforting contrast to the somewhat awkward evening.

Eventually, Daphne decided to excuse herself, craving a bit of solace and relaxation. Her intention was to make the most of the rest of her evening with a soothing bath before she headed off to bed. The ensuite bathroom was softly lit, casting a gentle, inviting glow. She filled the tub with warm water, adding fragrant lavender bubbles to create a tranquil and fragrant soak. With care, she selected her favorite bath oils, allowing their pleasant scent to permeate the room as she prepared for her well-deserved soak.

Seated at her dressing table, she meticulously combed out her long, silky hair. The soft, golden light from nearby sconces framed her reflection in the mirror, creating a serene and calming atmosphere. The room was filled with the subtle hum of the bathwater being drawn and the soothing rhythm of her hair-combing ritual.

Just as she was beginning to lose herself in her thoughts and the comforting routine, the room's silence was abruptly broken by a distinct tapping at her window. Startled, she turned her head toward the source of the sound, discovering a familiar golden hawk perched outside. Its keen eyes were fixed upon her, patiently waiting. Recognizing the bird, she approached the window with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, wondering what message it might bear. The hawk extended its leg, securely fastened with a note—a harbinger of unexpected developments in her otherwise uneventful night.

"Dear Daphne," the letter began, "I thought you might want to know what happened after you left the restaurant. Harry gave your date quite the dressing down for ditching a date and disturbing his personal time with business. It was a rather memorable scene. Anyway, I hope you have a peaceful evening and a good night's rest. If you ever need a more interesting date, you know where to find me. Please say you weren't considering this moron to go to the Yule party?"

Daphne couldn't help but smile as she read the note. Susan's loyalty and thoughtfulness had brightened her evening, and she was grateful for such a good friend. With a sense of contentment, she set the letter aside and returned to preparing her bath.

…

End of Chapter