"What's the matter? Is your chest bothering you?"

Daphne jerked, as though waking from a light slumber, and pulled her hand away from where she'd subconsciously cradled it on her collarbone. The empty space, the vacancy where the weight of his pendant should have lain occupied her thoughts.

"No, I'm- it's nothing."

Ava slid an arm around her, giving her a gentle squeeze before releasing her. "I must admit, although I had my doubts about having a 'free' elf around, your little helper has made living in this squalid little hovel far more comfortable."

"Dobby's the best," she muttered, leaning against her mother for a moment before standing upright.

It was true; the energetic little house elf had transformed Number Four into something far more familiar for the Greengrasses. He'd spent an entire day expanding rooms, cleaning the furniture and mattresses, and assumed all the cooking duties for the family. The muggle home was scarcely recognisable now.

"Were you able to, er, clarify things with Potter?"

'I am in love with you, Daphne… but I wish I weren't'

"Sort of," she mumbled.

Her mother poured herself a cup of tea, motioning for Daphne to join her at the kitchen table. "This hasn't been easy on you."

"It's okay."

"Judging by your expression, I'm guessing you didn't find what you were hoping you would at our home," Ava remarked, taking a sip from her mug with a sage expression.

"No, but- well, we didn't really have the chance to discuss the family debt-"

"Daphne!" Her sister's shout from the sitting room interrupted her mother's gentle interrogation, and Ava nodded at her to go see what Astoria wanted.

She found her sister, braces attached to her arms, staring intently at the empty glass box in the center of the room. "What is it?"

"What's this?" she asked, and Daphne covered her mouth with her hand to mask a smile. Astoria was intensely curious about the various muggle gadgets and machines scattered about the house. She'd spent the majority of their time living here poking about and exploring.

"It's a…" Daphne grasped for the right word. "A muggle picture box. Like a Wireless, but it displays visuals alongside the sound."

"Wow…!" she murmured. "That sounds neat!"

She shrugged in reply. Unlike her sister, Daphne found the way muggles lived to be inconvenient and backwards. "I guess."

"How does it work? Can I see?"

The request momentarily flummoxed her. During her brief sojourn the year before, she and Harry had never used the picture box; Daphne only knew of its purpose from the way the muggles would sit, entranced and staring like they were hypnotised. She'd never actually turned it on herself.

Wandering over to the wall where the set of levers for this room were located, Daphne hesitantly flipped the first. The overhead lamp went dark. She tried the next; a fan turned on. "Hm."

"Is it broken?"

Daphne moved over the box itself, examining it closely. "No, just give me a moment." She hesitantly touched the strange, hard material ringing the edge of the glass, trying to think up an explanation. The big sister in Daphne would never allow her to admit ignorance to Astoria. "It's probably because of all the magic Dobby's been using. Like how muggle machines won't work at Hogwarts."

"Oh." Crestfallen, but only for a moment, Astoria shuffled away from the picture box, looking at a shelf filled with ghastly porcelain curios. "What do these do?"

"I think they're just decoration."

There was a crack of apparition outside, and a few seconds later their father joined them. "Hello, girls. Daphne, do you have a moment?"

Astoria wandered out of the room, while Daphne smoothed out her skirt and took a seat. "Yes?"

"How did it go with Potter?"

Her face fell. "Not very well."

"But our family honour - is it at risk? How angry is he?"

"He's… I don't know, Dad. Harry's not all that knowledgeable about the ins and outs of social standing. He's got more important things to worry about." She tried to keep her irritation off her face as she met Cecil's gaze. "And so do we. What did the Headmaster want to meet with you about?"

"It's as I feared. He couched it in more diplomatic terms, but he wants to pull strings in our family's business. I suspect Dumbledore knows how much leverage he has with this offer of a safehouse, and he's far too shrewd to let it pass by without taking advantage."

"Is that really so bad?" she asked, listening with one ear to Astoria clomping around the entryway. "We're all on the same side, aren't we?"

"I built our business from nothing to be the largest import/export house in the entire country. Passing along information about our clients, limiting who we trade with, and-"

"You-Know-Who's followers tried to kill us! Why would you even want to do business with them?!"

"It's not as though I was involved with the Lestranges before, and Malfoy's father is in Azkaban. But it's not so black and white, honey. There are families that support the Dark Lord who I've done business with since I left Hogwarts. The sort of clients that kept your mother and I safe in the first war. Turning on them now isn't without risk of its own."

"It is black and white," she responded furiously, though Daphne consciously kept her voice quiet. "They've sided against Harry. His enemies are our own."

"Daphne…"

"He's the reason Astoria is alive right now. His fight is now our fight. If you need me to explain further, then maybe he should cast us as blood traitors! We'd certainly deserve it!"

Cecil was quiet for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. "You're right. The Greengrasses honour our debts."

"Daphne?" Astoria called out once again from the entryway.

"I should go see what she needs."

"You really love him, don't you? It wasn't all for your sister, then?"

She paused at her father's question. "It might have started out that way, but… Yes. I do."

Leaving the sitting room, she found Astoria on the floor beside the stairs, one of her braces detached and lying next to her. Daphne hurried to her side. "What happened? Did you fall?"

"I'm fine," she replied distractedly. "But I can't reach inside. Can you help me?"

"With what?"

"It looks like there's some toys inside. I want to see!"

"Toys? What do you mean?" Astoria was seated in front of a small door, a cupboard tucked away beneath the staircase. Daphne came closer, kneeling down next to her sister. Inside the small, dark space, there were a few dusty boxes resting atop a worn and threadbare crib mattress. "It's probably just some junk the muggles tucked away. Do you want me to pull the boxes out so you can see what's inside?"

"No- I mean, yes, but past the boxes. There, near the wall." Astoria swung the cupboard door open all the way and pointed inside. Daphne peered closely, catching sight of a handful of pitifully broken and worn muggle toys. "See? All the magic we've used wouldn't have affected those!"

She shuffled out of the way, allowing Daphne space to lean in further, half inside the cramped storage closet. It was certainly an odd method of storage. They were arranged on a dust-covered shelf about knee-high in front of the mattress.

And why was there a mattress inside a cupboard at all? It was certainly an inefficient method of storage, especially since it wasn't even upright, but instead lying on the floor, as though someone had been…

It was like all of the air in the room vanished. Daphne collapsed onto the floor, knees too weak to support her weight.

It couldn't be. They couldn't have.

"Daphne?" Astoria sounded as though she were speaking from far away. "Can you get them for me?"

"The things you've said, they all add up. Being hungry all the time, not writing home, getting hurt the day you came back from Hogwarts. You think I couldn't put that together?"

Why hadn't he told her how bad it was?

No, she eventually decided, the real question is why hadn't she put it together on her own? It hardly took a genius to realise Harry's treatment would have been even worse when he was young, when he was too small and vulnerable to defend himself.

"Astoria." Her jaw clenched so hard she felt her teeth might soon crack, Daphne gently pulled Astoria away from the cupboard before slamming the door shut. "Stay out of there."

"But-"

"I said stay out of there!" she shouted, immediately regretting her tone when Astoria flinched.

Too angry to apologise for upsetting her sister, Daphne stormed up the stairs and flounced onto Harry's bed, stewing in her rage. She wanted to kill those filthy, disgusting muggles for what they did to him. She would kill them, someday.

For the rest of the night, Daphne stayed in Harry's room- 'his other room', she corrected herself - too angry to do anything but fester in furious outrage. It was a good thing the muggles were sent away, because if they were here, now, in front of her, she'd almost certainly run afoul of the intention-based protections.

Astoria had knocked on the door two times, once in the evening and again this morning, asking for assistance with more tinkering, but Daphne refused her. Her sister's infatuation with muggle living was no longer endearing; pretending they were anything more than animals was no longer within Daphne's ability. She hated them with a burning passion.

They couldn't get out of this house of horrors soon enough.

"Can I come in, dear?"

"Sure, go ahead."

Ava opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind her. "How are you feeling this morning? You didn't come down for breakfast."

"Dobby brought me a plate."

"Good, at least you ate." Her mother eyed the dilapidated mattress, ultimately choosing to sit at the desk rather than next to her. "Are you planning to stay up here for the rest of the week?"

She sighed, putting down one of the Defence books Professor Snape loaned her before the school closed. "No, I just felt like having a lie-in."

"Astoria's been asking for you. You know your father and I aren't as well-versed in muggle… lifestyles."

"Why do you keep encouraging her? She needs to get over her muggle fascination. She's a witch, she should act like it."

Ava made a puzzled face at her sullen behaviour. "I… see. Very well. Still, you should get dressed."

Daphne shoved the blanket off herself, revealing her long skirt and a faded jumper she'd found in one of Harry's drawers. "I'm dressed."

"Alright." Her mother approached, and kissed the top of her head. "I'll see you at lunch, then."

Another hour or so went by, and Daphne entertained herself by reading through one of the books Professor Snape lent her on the Dark Arts. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she'd skipped dinner the night before, so she put the book away and left the room to see if Dobby had prepared lunch.

As soon as she exited to the upstairs corridor, though, a blaring noise coming from below stopped her in her tracks. What was that?

Just as suddenly as it appeared, the noise cut off.

"Sorry. I don't know why the volume was so high."

"It's so- I've never seen anything like this!"

Daphne crept down the stairs, her hand squeezing the bannister when she heard a familiar chuckle. "Look here - you aim this at the telly, and if you hit this button here, you can change the channel."

"There's more than one?"

"You bet, there're loads. News programs, home cookery shows, even whole channels for children."

"Can you show me?"

The noise changed several times. "See? You think you can manage on your own? Or did you have anything else you needed help with?"

"Do you want to sit and watch with me?"

A low chuckle. "Sure, why not? I could do with a bit of telly."

Daphne peeked around the corner into the sitting room, seeing her sister and Harry seated next to each other on the sofa, staring in silence at the picture box she'd been unable to activate. What was he doing here?

Well, she supposed, that was obvious, her sister must have summoned him. But why would he come? Just to help Astoria with muggle devices?

Did her mother know about this? Is that why she'd made that remark about Daphne's outfit earlier? She ran a hand over her hair, then put her palm up to her mouth to check her breath. Inhaling deeply to steady herself, Daphne prepared to join them in the sitting room… until her sister broke the silence before she could.

"Why are you mad at Daphne?" She pressed herself against the hallway wall, holding her breath in anticipation of Harry's response.

"Who told you that I am?"

"She did. She said while you were helping me get better, you found out something that made you mad."

"Oh. I don't really think I did much to help you. It was mostly your sister."

"I know," Astoria replied, pride and affection apparent in her voice. "She promised me she'd save me. But my parents said you helped."

"I'm glad you recovered."

The sound of the picture box cut off. "You should know, Daphne's the best big sister ever. She's really great. Whatever you found out, it's probably not true."

"I wish it weren't," he said. Daphne felt the same way.

Astoria, though, wasn't done. "Still, everybody gets cross now and again. Instead of being mad, you should spend more time here, with us. I know she misses you."

"How do you know that?" he asked in an amused voice. "I think you've only seen us in the same room a single time."

"Her face does this thing whenever your name comes up. I've never seen her look that way before, not even when she went to the Yule Ball with Theodore. She misses you a lot." Daphne once more chanced a glance, seeing Harry staring at the silent picture box, and Astoria looking intently at him. "See? You've got the same look!"

"Listen, Greengrass-"

"Astoria."

"Right, well, it's complicated. Between your sister and me, I mean."

"But why? I'm cured now!"

He was quiet for a long stretch, then said, "You should talk to Daphne. I didn't even know what was going on most of the time she was trying to save you."

"It just seems kind of stupid to not talk to her. I mean, we're not in school any longer, no one would care if you come 'round once in awhile."

Harry seemed to consider his reply for a moment. "Okay."

"Good. Now let's find something fun to watch before lunch." The picture box lit up again. "Were you scared when you faced that dragon during the Tournament?"

"Oh yea, definitely."

"Can you teach me how to fly like you did?"

"Um, I don't know…"

"What about the Chamber of Secrets? I wasn't at Hogwarts then, but some of the older students told me you went inside. Is that true?"

"Er, yea, it is-"

"So it's real?! Can you take me to see it?"

A small smile on her face, Daphne stepped away from the sitting room and crept back up the stairs, leaving them to their pictures and conversation.

At last, their time at Privet Drive was at an end. Just after dawn broke, their escort arrived to bring them to Harry's home.

"'Lo Greengrass! Err, Greengrasses. All set?" Ron asked, deftly spinning his wand with one hand. "Need any luggage shrunk? Some levitation charms?"

"Ronald! Show some manners, honestly!" Mrs. Weasley admonished, choosing to knock on the door frame despite the door being open. "Good morning. I'm Molly Weasley, we've come to take you to Grimmauld Place."

While her parents and Mrs. Weasley made awkward small talk and introduced themselves, Ron ambled over to where she and her sister waited.

"Do we really have to leave?" Astoria muttered, taking a last look around the muggle home.

"Yes," Daphne said simply. "Astoria, this is Ron Weasley. Ron, this is my sister."

He gave a casual wave. "Looking forward to checking out your new residence?"

"I am," Daphne said. "I can't wait to get out of here and back into a proper home."

Ron seemed to find this highly amusing, chuckling for a moment. "Oh right, almost forgot." While the adults spoke, Ron dug around in his trousers pocket, eventually pulling out a crumpled scrap of parchment and handing it over. "Here. Give this a read, then we'll be set."

"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place," Daphne read silently, passing the note to her sister. "There are other people already living there?"

"You'll see," came the cryptic reply. "Alright, then? Who wants to go first?"

"Me!" Astoria chirped, the tap-tap of her arm braces audible as she awkwardly stepped around Daphne.

"Do you have your apparition license?" Daphne asked, gently taking hold of her sister's arm to pause her advance. "Have you ever side-alonged anyone before?"

Ron rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Yes, and yes. She'll be fine, don't worry."

A crack! sounded nearby as Mrs. Weasley departed with her father. "Okay," Daphne grudgingly relented.

"Be back in a mo'," Ron said, taking hold of Astoria's upper arm and turning in place. True to his words, both Weasleys returned a few seconds later, with Mrs. Weasley escorting her mother and Ron taking Daphne's arm. "Ready?"

She nodded, preparing herself for the discomfort of apparition. One squeezing sensation later, and Daphne found herself situated on a run-down muggle street, dirty and decaying row-houses lined up before her.

"Okay girls," Ron said. "Think about the note you read."

Daphne focused on the words written on the scrap of parchment, then let out a gasp of shock when a home suddenly squeezed into existence between the two muggle row-houses on either side. It was larger than the others, and though they all shared a similar architecture, Number Twelve was distinctly more Victorian in appearance and design. With Astoria at her side, Daphne followed Ron to the entrance.

"Stay quiet when you enter," he warned, holding a finger up to his lips. "'Least until we made it to the kitchen."

"Alrigh-" she started to say, interrupted by a swift 'Shhhh!' as Ron opened the door.

The entrance hall was dark, foreboding, and nothing at all like the sort of home she'd have imagined one of the most storied pureblood families in Britain to reside in. Gruesome decor dotted the environment, a troll leg umbrella stand and house elf heads lined up on a plaque. A heavy curtain masked the wall directly opposite the front door, and the carpet she tread upon was grimy, thin, and in places worn down to nothing.

Her family trouped along, following the Weasleys into a cavernous kitchen with stone walls and high ceilings. Dim light from flickering gas lamps ineffectually illuminated the room.

"What'd'ya say, Greengrass? This home 'proper' enough for you?" Ron asked in a normal volume, which Daphne took to mean they were allowed to speak. "Right, well fancy a munch?"

"We ate before we left."

"Perhaps a cup of tea while we get situated, though?" her father said diplomatically, taking a seat at the huge table filling the center of the room. "Is your family residing here, as well?"

"No, no," Mrs. Weasley assured while she set a kettle to boil and prepared a tea serving. "We stayed here briefly over the winter holidays, but there's too much to be done at our home. My eldest son is to marry come summer, and there are so many preparations to be made."

"Bad luck for you," Ron whispered to Astoria sotto voce. "Mum's cooking was about the only comfort to be found in this house. Kreacher's as liable to poison you as he is to feed you!"

"Kreacher?" Astoria asked in confusion, letting out a squeak of fright when a wrinkled, aged house elf 'pop'ped into existence alongside her.

"'Course he answers now," Ron grumbled. "Kreacher's the Black family elf. You're a good elf, aren't you, buddy?"

The elf, his ears, nose, and lips all drooping, spat upon the floor. "Blood traitors and squatters invading Mistress's house! A disgrace! Disgrace!"

"Off with you, Kreacher!" Mrs. Weasley shooed, and Daphne imagined a broom in her hands literally sweeping him away. "You're not to bother the Greengrasses during their stay, do you understand?"

Entirely defiant of her command, Kreacher turned his back on the Weasley matriarch to regard Daphne and her family more closely. "Green… grass? Grimmauld Place belongses to the most ancient and noble Blacks. Not to Greengrasses!"

"It's not theirs any longer, though, is it?" Ron said, loading his tea with milk and sugar as Mrs. Weasley set the tray down on the table. "Why don't you go make yourself useful and actually clean something for once?"

"Mistress will hear of this!" The elf vanished as swiftly as he appeared.

"Mistress?" Ava repeated. "I was led to believe Potter was the Black's heir. Who is that elf referring to?"

"There is a portrait of the last Lady Black in the entrance hall. Kreacher spends much of his time conversing with her."

"That's why I warned you to stay quiet when we came in," Ron added. "The old bag's a real screamer if you wake her up."

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips at her son's comment, but eventually nodded in agreement. "She has an unpleasant personality, it's true."

"Why not simply move the portrait?"

"It's stuck to the wall magically, which so far has resisted all efforts at removal. Let's finish our tea, then I'll give you a quick tour of the house."

As a group, they wandered from room to room, becoming acquainted with their new abode. Astoria and Daphne took a room with two beds on the first floor (the 'girls room' where Hermione and his sister had stayed, according to Ron), while her parents decided on a room previously owned by Regulus Black, as stated by a nameplate on the door.

Grimmauld Place was decayed, decrepit, and by all rights should have been derelict. To Daphne, it seemed scarcely an improvement over the muggle hovel they'd been residing in previously. The air of dirtiness and disuse was only reinforced on the top floor, where an unwelcome surprise was found in what used to be the master bedroom.

"Look, Daphne!" Astoria practically bounced up and down in excitement. "Is that- it's a hippogriff!"

Emerging from the en suite bathroom with two buckets, one filled with water and the other with a collection of still-bloody meat, Arthur Weasley greeted them with a grimace. "Hello, all. Apologies for this, Buckbeak normally stays with Hagrid, but he suffered a, um, loss of a close friend recently. Buckbeak won't be here long, don't worry."

Daphne shot a worried look at her mother, who looked preternaturally calm at this latest development, before turning back to man feeding the bloody hippogriff in their house. "Hello, Mr. Weasley. Have you been well?"

"Ah, Daphne, wasn't it?" He set down the bucket of chum, ineffectually wiping his hand on his trousers before holding it out to her. Manners won out over good sense, and Daphne shook his hand. "I hear you spent a week in Surrey. Must have been quite a fascinating experience! I've often thought of trying to give muggle living a go myself; you know, just spend a day here or there getting by with their gadgets."

"Unfortunately, my husband's work at the Ministry keeps him quite busy." Mrs. Weasley's tone told the truth about her opinion on that idea.

"It was great!" Astoria said enthusiastically. "You wouldn't believe the sorts of things muggles have. Have you ever watched telley-vision before?"

"I don't believe so, no. What is it?"

Astoria chattered on energetically about their time at Privet Drive while Mr. Weasley finished feeding the hippogriff. The tour seemed about finished, so Daphne meandered back to the kitchen, finding the dishes from tea still sitting on the table. Ron wasn't lying about Kreacher's uselessness, apparently.

"Dobby?"

Her friend appeared with a pop! "Hello Miss Greeny!"

"Are you finished putting Privet Drive back the way it was?"

"Oh yes! Muggleses won't ever know Dobby was there!"

"Would you be able to help me here-"

They were interrupted by another pop!, Kreacher immediately leaping onto Dobby. The two elves tussled with each other, rolling this way and that, punching and kicking while shouting insults.

"You is a bad elf!"

"Kreacher serves the Blacks, you don't belong!"

"Dobby won't let Miss Greeny live in dirty houses!"

She was stunned for a moment before shaking herself out of her surprise, moving to break up the fight. Before she could reach the two elves, though, Dobby pushed off of Kreacher, springing to his feet and holding a hand out, blasting Kreacher out of the kitchen and into the entrance hall.

A loud screech emerged from where he was launched. "What is this? More filth, invading my home? Disgusting scum! KREACHER! Can't you do your job, you miserable little beast?"

Daphne gestured for Dobby to remain in the kitchen and stepped into the entrance hall, walking up to the portrait. It was of an elderly woman, still regal and imperious despite her age. Her experiences with Elysant fresh in her mind, Daphne regarded the portrait with a neutral expression. "Hello. You must be the former Lady Black."

"'Former'? I am the Lady Black. Who do you think you are, trespassing on my family's property like some scurrilous vagabond?"

"We are not trespassers. We were invited."

"By whom? The same thieves and peasants that have invaded my home for the last year? They've no right, just like you have none to be here!"

"I tried, Mistress-" Kreacher started to say, but Daphne spoke over him.

"I won't be spoken to like this. My family and I are here at the invitation of your heir, the current head of your family. He generously offered us refuge - who are you to rescind his generosity?"

"My heir? I have no- wait." The woman peered at Daphne, eyes raking up and down, taking in the somewhat conservative, knee-length dress she wore. "Has he returned? We all thought him dead, but he must have survived! Oh, I knew he would survive to carry on the grandeur of the Black name!"

Was she referring to Harry? No, certainly not. Nonetheless, the portrait seemed to have calmed down, and she wasn't eager to inquire further and endure more of the mad woman's screeching. "So you see, we have not 'invaded' anything, we-"

"What is your name, girl?"

"Daphne Greengrass."

"I know of your family. Cecil is your father?" Daphne nodded. "He was an up and coming young businessman in my time. It was a credit to the purity of your blood that he retained such good sense despite your family's many years abroad."

"My father is a very successful man," Daphne agreed, somewhat taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation.

"And your name is listed among the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

This was starting to feel like her meeting with Umbridge, way back at Hogwarts. "Yes."

Another appraising look from the portrait. "I suppose you're pretty, in a rather conventional way."

"Um, thank you?"

"Beauty can be more trouble than it's worth, my nieces proved that. And you're young, plenty of time to bear many children. I lucked out with my younger son, but believe me when I say you cannot trust your children to not disappoint you." Perhaps realising Daphne's discomfort with her rambling stream of consciousness, the portrait paused and refocused. "Has a contract already been signed between the two of you?"

Daphne stood in front of the portrait, the lengthy silence turning awkward. She didn't know how to respond to what this - obviously deeply confused - portrait was saying. Eventually, she settled on, "Well, I only just arrived. I'm sure that we'll have an opportunity to talk more."

"Of course, dear. Tell Reggie to come and speak with his dear mother - the very idea that he is off wooing lasses without visiting me, the nerve!" Despite her words, she chuckled, clearly in a cheerful mood. "And please, call me Walburga, or even Mother Black, if you'd prefer."

"Daphne? Where did you run off to?"

"Coming!" she called back to her mother and, with an uncomfortable wave to the portrait, Daphne hurried out of the entrance hall.

As she climbed the stairs to meet her family, Daphne couldn't help but feel like Grimmauld Place might not be the improvement over Privet Drive she'd hoped it would be.

A/N: 4800 words, 14 pages before author's note.

Not too much to say. Had a rough few months, which led to me smoking a lot more, which meant writing was more difficult than usual. Summer blues, I suppose, but I've pushed more the last few weeks and the words started flowing once more. Been working on my original novels a bit more than fanfics, which has slowed my pace a bit with updates here. Also, to any AO3 readers migrating here since I pulled my content off there, feel free to leave a guest review if you so choose!

Big thanks to follz. Fist-bump of gratitude. Enjoy your 4th, homie!

As always,

Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles