Prologue

"Harry? No! What are yer doing 'ere!"

Harry ached at the terror in Hagrid's voice which reverberated around the forest. But he knew this was the right thing to do. Too many people had died fighting this war, and it was his responsibility to end it.

Voldemort swivelled around and his red eyes glinted savagely as he spotted Harry walk to a halt a couple of metres from him. A smirk slowly made its way to his serpentine face.

"Harry Potter… the boy who lived… come to die."

Voldemort's voice was delicate, a slender finger at the tip of his wand. However, Harry's gaze was instead transfixed at the pair standing a couple metres behind Voldemort. It could only be, when she was there. Her eyes were averted.

A sour taste emerged in his mouth as he felt his stomach churn. He desperately didn't want to believe it, but it appeared that the proof was right before his eyes.

Voldemort spotted Harry's attention was diverted elsewhere, and he slowly turned around to follow Harry's line of sight. His smirk widened when he realised what was going on.

"Ah yes, the lovely Miss Greengrass," Voldemort intoned as he turned back to Harry with a sly and cruel smile on his face. "Why, did you believe she was on your side?"

Harry swallowed. Even though he didn't want to show weakness, she had always brought out the rawest emotions in him, and this was no exception. He jutted his head.

Voldemort's smile grew wider and crueller. "You were just as gullible as I had hoped. Believing you had something… genuine… with her." he chuckled, spreading his hands. This time, Harry gave no response. "Too bad it was all fabricated." Voldemort looked back, regarding the pair and said, "Miss Greengrass, do you deny this?"

Daphne blinked and finally locked eyes with Harry. A stream of raw emotion was coursing through him, and he was certain his eyes were portraying them – his grief, his guilt, his desperation. All he wanted was just one single indication that it wasn't all part of Voldemort's plan, that she actually felt something through everything they did together, that he hadn't been lied to, betrayed this whole time.

Unfortunately, Daphne wore that neutral expression Harry had grown too accustomed with. Her jaw was set, her father's arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, her own arms hanging stiffly by her sides. Even though it was almost imperceptible, Harry saw her shake her head.

Voldemort hummed in morbid fascination. "There is your answer," he drawled, chuckling again, which broke the long silence that hung over the forest. "Now… onto more important matters."

His red eyes glinted, and he raised his wand.

Harry let out a tiny sigh. I suppose this is it, he mused wryly as he finally wrenched his eyes from Daphne and onto the tip of Voldemort's raised wand. I suppose she made me happy at least, even in deceit.

He closed his eyes as he awaited the inevitable, and a torrent of images flashed through his mind.

Happy memories. Much of which contained Daphne in them: her stifled laugh, her hair under the wind.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Even through his eyelids were closed, he could still see a blinding green light and then everything went black.

He didn't hear Daphne scream.

Daphne was inconsolable.

The Dark Lord had told her and her father to begone after she made the unfortunate scene of weeping openly in front of all the death eaters. Her father was less than pleased when they apparated in front of the Greengrass Manor, for bringing shame to the family in front of the Dark Lord's closest confidantes, but Daphne could not care less.

She could still see the hurt in Harry's eyes, the horrendous green flash, the way it struck him true to the chest, and the way he–

Why didn't he at least try to fight back?

She should have resisted, said something. So what if the Dark Lord and his closest followers were watching? Because she was a coward, Harry would now forever believe that none of what they had was real, and that she only used him to relay information back to the Dark Lord.

She was exhausted and just wanted to sleep, because she was no longer holding it together in this reality.

Her father thankfully left her alone after entering their estate, but not before a severe berating that she was too shellshocked to bother listening to. Her sobs had subsided to sniffles by now as she trudged emptily up the staircase.

The soreness in her throat was unfamiliar as she coughed. She wasn't used to this feeling, the shockwaves of denial transitioning into despair.

"Daph?" her sister's voice appeared tentatively as Daphne made it to the top of the staircase. She paused, and Astoria was standing by the door to her bedroom, a concerned look on her face.

For some reason, seeing Astoria made the waterworks threaten to resurface. But there was no way Daphne was going to cry in front of her sister.

Or not.

"Oh, Daffy." Before she knew it, Astoria had closed the distance between them and engulfed her in a hug. Daphne vaguely noticed that even through Astoria's generally poor health, she had grown significantly since the last time she saw her. Daphne's body shook as she nuzzled into her sister's shoulder, and the soreness in her throat was back, strong as ever.

She felt she wasn't getting enough air.

Harry's now gone, and she had no idea how much time Astoria had left with her blood curse. Why was it that, two of the few people she let herself love so openly, were both doomed to an early fate?

"It's okay," Astoria whispered in understanding as she gently ran her hand against Daphne's back. "I'm here. It's my turn to look after you now."

Daphne had hoped that by not responding, the person behind the door would leave her alone but they knocked a third time.

"Go away," Daphne said weakly, but the persisting knocking continued.

"Daffy! It's me!" Astoria's unmistakable voice resonated through the door.

Daphne sighed and blindly reached for her wand on her bedside table. She unlocked her door with a careless wave, and her sister instantly bounded in.

"What do you want?" Daphne said tiredly, rubbing her eyes as she sat up in her bed. To both her confusion and surprise, Astoria had a massive smile on her face, and she walked with a skip in her step.

"This ought to brighten you up," Astoria grinned as she slapped some paper onto Daphne's bed. "Go on," she prodded as Daphne made no move to grab the paper. "Read it!"

Daphne gave Astoria one last look before grabbing the paper which she quickly identified as the Daily Prophet. Her eyebrows first scrunched in confusion, then widened in disbelief as the front headline, in massive bold black ink, screamed at her:

The Chosen One Vanquishes He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

"What?" Daphne hissed as she gaped at Astoria, who merely nodded her head excitedly and gestured at the paper.

There was a picture of Harry, no doubt taken yesterday given the clothes he was wearing, smiling with his Gryffindor friends.

Daphne's mind worked in overdrive as she read faster than she ever had, to the point she was almost scanning but was still comprehending every single detail the news article had provided.

Harry Potter won the war. Somehow.

Two emotions suddenly washed over her like a strong gust. The first one was pure relief, and the second one was unadulterated joy which made her laugh so loudly that even Astoria looked a little worried.

"Daffy?" Astoria said tentatively.

"That darned boy," Daphne chuckled, a tear at the corner of her eye. She shook her head as she traced a finger along Harry's smiling face on the paper. "He just won't die."

Astoria beamed. "I know right! Finally, it's over. It's all so over."

Daphne wasn't usually one who liked to express her emotions, much less in a physical manner, but this day was a special occasion. She leapt out of bed and jumped around with her sister, and it felt as if she was seven years old again.

A few hours later, after several rewrites and a lot of discarded parchment in her trash, she tied a rolled letter addressed to Harry to the feet of her owl. After much deliberation, she eventually opted for the formal approach, since that had worked very well with Harry when they first started dating. A simple, straightforward request to meet.

It could never hurt to be a little too formal after all, since she wasn't sure where she stood with Harry at the moment.

Her heart swelled with the notion of seeing Harry again, as she watched the owl fly into the distance. She didn't know what she wanted to do more, slap Harry for being stupid enough to sacrifice himself in the forest or to kiss him senseless for somehow surviving another death curse.

Little did Daphne know, her life was going to change drastically within a week.

And she wouldn't see Harry again for four years.

AN: This concept has been swirling in my head for a while and I'd like this to be a couple of chapters long. Let me know if this is an idea you are interested in, and I hope you enjoyed this story :)