Author Notes: As always, I own nothing of the Harry Potter fanfiction except the plot of the story.

So, guys, I'm finally featuring Daphne Greengrass for the first time. Don't get me wrong, Lunarry is still my OTP, but I do have a soft corner of this particularly ship, for some reason.

Anyways, this is going to be quite a long work. I'm guessing somewhere around 25000 words divided into 10 or 11 chapters - definitely much larger than anything I've written. But bear with me - it'll be worth the read, I promise.

This is very new territory for me as I'm deviating from my usual rom-com writing style to a more heartfelt romance, kind of an angsty one. I hope you like it and stick with it - nothing makes me happier.

SCENE 1:

The Auror office buzzed with the familiar Monday morning chaos. The air smelled of fresh parchment and strong coffee, a scent he'd grown well accustomed to by now.

Amidst all this, Harry Potter sat at his huge brown desk, stacks of documents staring down at him. His quill hovered over a half-filled form, a drop of mischievous ink threatening to smudge his paper. Harry blinked; he'd been staring at the blank white paper for five minutes.

He sighed as he leaned back into his chair. The leather squeaked desperately under his weight, but Harry barely heard it. His eyes had wandered to one of his most prized possessions - a beautifully framed photo of him, Ron, and Hermione, arms around each other, laughing. It was taken sometime after the War.

The sight made his chest suddenly tight. Harry placed a hand on it in an attempt to soothe it, urging it to stop making painful moans. But they didn't stop.

Those were the days…

Things had changed. They were still friends, sure, but not the sort of friends you can smack on the head or go and visit uninvited. Ron was totally immersed in his and George's affluent joke shop while Hermione, as brilliant as ever, was busy steadily climbing up the ranks of the Ministry as if it was a simple staircase.

Their meet-ups had gone from daily to weekly to the become the monthly thing they were currently, that too filled with awkward silences and countless grunts from Ron - something he'd never quite experienced around with either of them.

And then there was Ginny. Harry's stomach churned violently at the thought. He'd told her countless times it was over, that he needed space, that he wasn't the same person anymore. But she kept waiting, kept hoping. Harry couldn't help feel guilty, even though it was none of his fault. Perhaps this explained why Ron was behaving so odd with him?

A burst of laughter sharply pulled Harry from his reverie. His curious eyes darted over to a group of Aurors huddled near the water cooler. They were whispering and snickering as they shot a series of sidelong glances towards the far end of the room.

"Did you see her? Strutting in here like she owns the place," Harry heard one of them mutter not-so-faintly. "Wonder how long before she's kicked out."

"Bloody Death Eater spawn," another spat. "Don't know what Robards was thinking, letting her join."

Harry's ears perked up as he realized with a start who they were talking about - the recently joined woman, the newest addition to their team.

Harry turned around in his seat to catch a glimpse of the woman in question across the room. Following the direction of their gazes and curses, he finally spotted her, head down, furiously scribbling on a long piece of parchment. Her long, dark hair fell like a smooth curtain around her face, and her eyes looked… sad.

Harry felt a pang of sympathy. After all, he was no stranger to being the limelight of public whispers and hateful glares. It must feel terrible.

But then he shook his head. He'd got a huge salad of work on his plate already. No way could he afford to let his 'saving people thing' consume the little time he was left with.

Harry turned back to his desk, groaning. His skyscraper of "important" papers seemed to have grown taller in these few minutes. He picked up his quill, hands determined to make a dent in the pile before lunch.

SCENE 2:

Harry dragged his feet as he walked into the Auror office. The bustle of activity started pounding against his eardrums once again - quills scratching, memos zooming overhead, and the low murmur of conversations. He yawned, running a hand through his messy black hair. Another day, another pile of paperwork, yet another day to survive.

As he neared his desk, a loud voice cut through the silent air. Harry's head snapped up. It came from the far corner of the office.

"You useless, good-for-nothing Death Eater spawn!"

Harry's eyes widened as he registered Thomas, a fat-necked, fat-bottomed senior Auror with a permanent scowl, towering over a young woman. His face was red with anger, spittle flying from his mouth like a fountain as he shouted ruthlessly.

"You think you can just waltz in here like you own the place? Your kind doesn't belong here!"

The woman stood rigid, her hands clenched at her sides. She was tall and slender, with long dark hair that fell in waves down her back. Even from a distance, Harry could see her jaw was clenched tight, her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, too afraid to look up at her tormentor.

Harry's feet moved before his brain caught up, trying to figure out who this unfortunate woman was. Her skin was pale, almost porcelain-like, and her eyes were a striking shade of blue. Something about her seemed more and more familiar as Harry neared her.

"I'll have you-"

"What's going on here?" Harry asked, his voice cutting through Thomas' tirade as he finally reached the site of this commotion.

Thomas turned swiftly, his face flushed with indignation. "Stay out of this, Potter. No need to poke your nose into every thing."

Harry straightened himself, staring dead into the man's eyes. "If you think you can annoy the hell out of all of us here early morning with your hoarse voice, it's more than justified that one of us "poke" our nose into it. Tell me, what has happened?"

Thomas's face was too shocked to give a reply for a vivid moment before he sneered, jabbing a finger towards the woman, still looking down at her feet.

"This one here thinks she can come and go as she pleases. Showed up late for work. I don't-"

"I'm sorry, sir," she squeaked out in a defeated tone. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"You bloody duffer!" Thomas shouted even more loudly, raising a hand. "How dare you interrupt me? I'll have you fired!"

Harry, however, flinched. He glanced at the giant blue clock on the wall. It was barely past nine.

"How late?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A full ten minutes," Thomas spat at his feet.

Harry blinked, disbelief washing over him before a surge of anger rose in his chest.

"Ten minutes?" Harry repeated, his voice dangerously low as he narrowed his eyes at Thomas. "Am I supposed to believe you're causing this scene over a delay of ten minutes?"

Thomas's face reddened further. "It's the principle of the thing, Potter. These people need to learn-"

"These people?" Harry cut him off, green eyes flashing. "What exactly do you mean by that, Thomas?"

The office had gone pin-drop silent, every pair of eyes turned their way, all work forgotten.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from throttling the man right there.

"Thomas, this behavior is unacceptable, especially from someone of your stature. She's your colleague, not some criminal. Ten minutes doesn't warrant any of this. Leave aside manners, this was outright cruelty!"

Thomas had opened his mouth to argue but then, closed it instantly, perhaps realizing getting on the wrong side of the Magical World's savior wasn't a particularly smart move.

"I'm extremely disappointed with you, Thomas," Harry pressed on, taking advantage of the silence. "I suggest you go and calm yourself down. And remember, I don't want this behavior from you, or anyone else for that matter, ever again. Am I clear?"

For a moment, it looked like the huge man would lunge at him. With the smallest, almost imperceptible nod at Harry and a final glare at the woman , he stormed off, muttering under his breath.

As Thomas's heavy footsteps faded, Harry turned to the woman, visibly relaxed. Her eyes were wide with surprise, a mix of gratitude and confusion on her face.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked softly.

She nodded, the tiniest of smiles tugging at her red lips. "Yes, thank you."

A small silence fell; she looked away at the window.

"I... I'm a bit surprised, to be honest. I didn't expect anyone to step in, least of all you."

Harry frowned slightly. "Why's that?"

She hesitated, then shrugged. "Well, you're Harry Potter. And I'm... well, me."

Understanding dawned on Harry. He remembered where he'd seen her before - Hogwarts, always in the remotest, least visible corners of the Slytherin Table, a quiet presence in green and silver. They had been in the same year, but she always kept to herself. They had never talked and he didn't know much about her either - except that her father, Adolf Greengrass, was a prolific Death Eater, and that she had a sister who'd attended Hogwarts with them, a few years their junior.

"You're Daphne Greengrass, aren't you?" he asked.

She nodded, looking a bit wary. "Yes, that's right."

Harry smiled, desperately trying to put her at ease. Who knew how many more "Thomas"s were lurking in the shadows, dying to hurl the meanest insults at her? No way was he going to leave her unprotected. It had been quite a few years since the War, but the stigma against Death Eaters and their families was as strong as ever. Sometimes, Harry wondered if it was more than even the stigma once associated with Muggle-borns.

"Well, Daphne, everyone deserves to be treated with respect, regardless of their family," Harry spoke up, meaning every drop of it. "You're an Auror now, same as the rest of us. It's time you get the recognition you deserve. Being an Auror isn't easy, is it?"

Harry noticed a faint blush creep up to her necks as she fidgeted with her fingers, looking down.

"Thank you," she muttered in a mortified tone. "You're better than I thought."

Harry smiled at her, feeling a bit flustered himself. Was that too much?

his train of thoughts went into overdrive at this point, though. He didn't want her to be treated that way ever again. But then… she was indeed a Death Eater's daughter, and that meant red-hot glares, searing insults and instances of sheer unwillingness to cooperate from others were inevitable, unfortunately.

But then… an idea struck Harry with a force of a million hammers. His eyes sparkled in delight.

"Listen," he said enthusiastically, "why don't you come work with me? I could use a hand with some cases I'm working on."

Daphne's eyes widened in unadulterated surprise, her whole body going absolutely still.

"Really? You'd want to work with me?" her lips barely moved as she uttered those words.

Harry nodded, his smile bright. "Why not? And if you want, I can place you permanently under me. That way, you don't have to deal with, deal with… all this."

A small, tentative smile spread across Daphne's face. It didn't quite reach her eyes, though.

"I'd like that," she said, her voice sounding really, really grateful. "Thank you, Pot-, Harry."

Harry blinked. It was the first time he was hearing his first name from anyone in a long, long time.

"Come on," he managed to mutter, signaling her to follow him.

As they walked towards his office, Harry swung his head around. Every single Auror in his sight had totally forgotten their work for the simple act of looking up at the two of them. Some were surprised, others enraged and yet some others simply amused by the whole situation. Harry made sure to sprinkle a warning glare on all of the onlookers: a clear message that no one' going to get away with insulting her.

Harry watched Daphne settle into the wide green chair opposite his desk. She took a deep breath, as if bracing for her new position. Then, she looked up and smiled at him. Her posture was a little straighter, her smile just a little wider.

Harry felt a sensation of blissful warmth spread across his entire chest as he smiled back at her. Maybe, just maybe, he'd done something truly worthwhile today. He felt proud of himself.

"So, Daphne," he began in a kind voice. "What are the things you're good in?"

As always, constructive criticism is more than welcome. Please review - it puts a bright smile on my face that's very difficult to rub off. And yes, I always reply back, no matter how long after the publish date are you commenting.

Thanks for reading and your time. See you in the next chapter. Keep waiting!