Happy Christmas Daphne
This was written with the consent of Tpobaw and has had their eyes on this.
This is to alter the of “Fanon” from the main fic, which is a tragically all to often real outcome. For those who have been deeply affected because it mirrors perhaps an experience in your life or someone you knew, I hope this is a type of catharsis for you.
……
Daphne was sitting with Theodore on their sofa. Her thoughts ran through her last interaction with Harry that morning. He had seemed so different—happier, but in a resigned kind of way. She knew something was off, but she couldn’t quite place it. Of course, the upcoming wedding was weighing heavily on him, so she sighed and assigned that as the cause of his strange behavior.
She stood and took hers and Theo’s mugs from the coffee table, intent on washing them before heading to bed for the evening.
“You still love him, don’t you?” Theo’s voice was soft. The words froze her mid-step.
Her denial came fast, rising to her throat as she turned around, expecting to see anger, an accusatory look. She had, after all, been seeing her ex-fiancé alone over the last two years, and Theo—bless him—had never said a word. Not even when she stopped bringing him along. Not even last Christmas, when she was absent on Christmas Eve.
“Wha—?”
“Daphne, please don’t lie to me,” he gently interrupted, holding up a hand.
She swallowed. Her mind scrambled. She didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now. Not ever.
“I’m not angry,” he added, motioning for her to sit beside him.
She placed the mugs back onto the coffee table with trembling hands and sat down, unsure where to even begin.
“It’s hard to explain... I did love him. He was my first love, Theo. Then he got sick and… I stepped away. For my own sake. And after a time, I moved on,” she began, her voice quiet, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She felt sick. She was marrying this man in three months.
“You still love him, Daph,” Theo said softly. He turned to face her, taking her hands in his. She looked up at him, and his eyes were kind. No blame. Just truth.
“I moved on, Theo. I love you. I said I’d marry you—” she whispered, her throat closing. Her heart waged war against her head, each pulling in opposite directions.
“You love the idea of me. But the person in that idea... is him, isn’t it?”
She wanted to deny it. Say he was wrong. Say it was Theo she loved and not Harry. But how long had she been lying to herself? Three years? Four?
“I told myself, back when I started to pursue you, that it might be a bad idea,” he continued. “I’d heard the rumors about Harry, but I told myself... with time, you’d move on. That we could be happy. That I could make you happy.”
“Theo, you can, I—”
“I love him, Harry. I want to marry him.”
Had she lied for her own comfort and cursed two people in the process?
“We’ve been together what, three years?” he asked gently, no malice in his tone. No bitterness. She could only nod, eyes burning.
“And in that time... when we’ve kissed, you felt distant. Your embrace—warm, but never like I belonged in it. You said you wanted to wait until we were married to be intimate, like the old ways… but I know you and Harry were, when you were together.”
She wanted to lie. Say that wasn’t the reason. That it had nothing to do with Harry.
But those early kisses with Theo—they had felt cold. Like kissing a memory. His arms were kind, but the warmth she longed for had always felt just out of reach. She had told herself that withholding intimacy was about principle, self-respect... but deep down, she knew it was about holding onto the last pieces of a love she couldn’t fully let go.
She wanted to lie.
But she couldn’t.
“Theo… I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this. You are a wonderful man. A kind-hearted man with so much love to give. But—”
“Your heart belongs to another, and in time you will come to resent me” he said softly, one hand resting on her forearm.
“In truth, ever since you introduced me to him, I’ve felt awful. At first, I thought I wanted to see him just to prove something—to show him you weren’t his anymore… Then I saw him. How broken he was and…”
“And what?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“I remembered how our world treated him from the moment he entered it. Celebrated for his parents’ deaths. Hunted every year. Taunted by the Ministry, and by his peers. And yet he fought—for all of us. Those years I got to mess around and take life for granted… he was fighting to survive. And he ended the threat to our world. And how did I repay him? By showing up on the arm of the woman he loved, after he’d been battling Merlin knows what in himself.”
The words hit Daphne like a punch to the chest. She too had abandoned him to his demons. She’d seen what was happening. She had begged him to stop, to get help. But when he didn’t—couldn’t—she had left. She hadn’t reached out again. Pride had held her back. Pride, and a belief that he had dug his own grave, grief that he had chosen those vices over her, shattering her heart.
But as Theo spoke… she realized that bringing him into Harry’s life, even indirectly, had been like loading the gun.
“I know something happened last year,” he said suddenly.
She looked up, panic rising, about to protest—but again, he raised a calm hand.
“I don’t know what it was, and in truth, I’d rather not. But I swear to you, Daphne Greengrass, I bear you no ill will for how you feel. I just need you to promise me something.”
“What is it?” she managed, barely above a whisper. The guilt was suffocating. She had broken something good. Not out of cruelty.
“You owe it to yourself… yourself … to see if you can salvage something with Harry. If for nothing else, then for closure. To finally move on if he can’t change. Or at the very least, to deal with whatever remains between you. But don’t tie yourself to someone else—not while your heart is still holding space for him. It’s not fair to you. Or him. Or the third party.”
“I’m sorry Theo” she began to weep, in another life, one where Harry hadn’t claimed her heart, she could’ve been happy with him. But not in this one.
He gently kissed her forehead and pulled her to her feet. She could see the unshed tears behind his own eyes, much like Harry had when he had said if she was happy then he was. She had shattered three hearts, Harry’s, Theos and her own, though the true innocent here was Theo.
“Go to him, ill consider that my payment of my debt to him” he offered a smile.
She did not linger after that.
Her fingers trembled as she lit the Floo. She didn’t even wait for the flames to fully settle before shouting, “Grimmauld Place!” and stepping in. Her foot caught on the edge of the hearthstone and she nearly toppled over, catching herself just as she emerged into the dim, cold silence of Harry’s home.
“Harry!” she yelled, her voice cracking in the emptiness.
“D-Daphne?” came a soft, startled voice from upstairs.
It was small. Tired.
She didn’t wait. Her heels echoed off the floor as she sprinted through the old house, past the fading portraits and shadowed hallways, up the creaking stairs. Her heart thundered in her chest, pounding with urgency she didn’t fully understand yet—but her soul knew .
She burst into his study.
And froze.
There he was. Sat behind his desk, shoulders hunched, a quill loose in his hand. A half-written parchment lay before him, its ink still wet. Beside it, four folded letters, perfectly aligned in a neat row.
He looked up, startled. His eyes were glassy, rimmed red.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
His voice wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t angry. It was empty.
And then she saw it.
The way he sat so still, like the breath had gone out of him. The faint tremor in his fingers. The cold mug of untouched tea at the edge of the desk. The unnatural calm on his face, like someone who had made peace with something unbearable.
Her stomach twisted.
That look— that look—she’d seen it before, every time they’d been together over the past year. That aching sadness in his eyes, the kind that never left. She’d brushed it off, told herself he was strong, that he could handle pain like no one else.
But this wasn’t pain anymore.
This was final .
In her selfishness to keep him somehow, she’d never seen the truth. She’d loved him, held him, she had given herself to him again that last christmas eve—but always pulled back. Told him she was marrying Theo. Reinforced that he was the one being left behind.
How cruel she had been.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I hope you have a good Christmas.”
They rang in her ears like tombstones.
“You dodged my question earlier,” she said softly, her voice tight.
Her eyes dropped to the parchment. She couldn’t see the words—but she saw the shape of it. The farewell.
And the letters. Four of them. Folded with such care, as if he’d wanted his last words to be perfect. One for Ron. One for Hermione. One for Andi and Teddy.
And the last—hers.
Her knees buckled.
She swayed where she stood, her throat tightening so fast it felt like she was choking. Her vision blurred, hot with tears she hadn’t yet let fall.
“What—”
“Was that the last time I was going to see you?” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. A sob tore loose from her chest, raw and unfiltered.
The idea that she had said goodbye to him for the last time—and didn’t know it—that she’d smiled, left , and he had gone to write his goodbyes—
It pierced her heart like a dagger. She wanted to vomit.
He rose, slowly, like he’d been expecting this moment but hadn’t wanted it.
She wanted to scream. To hit him. To shake him. But all that came were sobs, violent and helpless, that wracked her body.
“Daphne, please sit down,” he said gently, guiding her to the armchair across from him. His voice was calm—but not safe. It was the calm of someone who had given up.
He didn’t embrace her. She realized with a new pang of pain that she’d trained him not to.
He looked away, muttered something about making tea—trying to deflect, to give her something to do, to pull her out of the moment—but she shot forward and grabbed his wrist.
He froze.
That look in his eyes. It would haunt her for the rest of her life.
“I was never going to see you again, was I?” she whispered through broken sobs.
His mouth opened. A denial rose—but he couldn’t speak it.
She knew.
And suddenly, her world tilted on its axis. The air felt too thin. Her heart was splitting in her chest. And yet, buried in the horror, a sliver of relief .
She had come in time.
“I—” he tried.
Before he could go on, she spoke, her voice cracking but resolute.
“Theo and I are no longer getting married.”
Something shifted in him. His eyes flickered—grief, disbelief, confusion. A breath shuddered out of him, like he didn’t dare let hope in. His hand trembled as it closed over hers.
“But you said you loved him. That’s what you wanted,” he said.
“I thought I did. I loved the idea of him. I wanted that safe, ideal picture—something perfect on paper. But I wanted that with you , Harry. Before everything. Before i lost you. Before I ran.”
Her voice cracked again, another sob caught in her throat.
“I am so sorry for how cruel I have been”
“I don’t blame you Daphne, you know I love you—”
“Don’t,” she said quickly. “Don’t say that if you’re just going to walk away and leave me behind. Please… don’t be that cruel. You were never cruel I can't lose you” she choked out, her chest tight.
His eyes welled again, and the dam broke.
He took her hands, clung to them like they were the only thing anchoring him.
“I was so tired,” he whispered. “Every time I left, all I could see was the fear in Ron’s eyes… Hermione’s… Andi’s. I felt like a ghost in every room. Like I’d already gone. I thought… maybe you’d all be better off without the weight of me anymore.”
Her heart shattered.
“Harry,” she breathed, voice shaking, “we would be destroyed if you died. I wouldn’t be able to breathe . Ron, Hermione, Andi—we’d blame ourselves forever. The Weasleys, everyone. You’re not a burden. We need you . I need you.”
He crumbled.
“I’m so sorry,” he choked, collapsing forward, his head in her lap, his shoulders shaking violently with sobs.
She held him. Clutched him as if she could pour all her love into the broken pieces of him. Her own tears ran freely now, soaking into his hair.
“I am too,” she whispered, pressing her lips to the top of his head. “I shouldn’t have cut you off. I should’ve fought for us. I should’ve seen .
“It was my fault, I wanted to stop you, beg for you to come back, I wanted-”
“But I’m here now. And I love you. So please… stay. Stay with me ” she her hoarse whisper spoke, pressing her lips to his hair.
As his arms embraced her, that warmth she had so long been seeking returned, her shattered heart ever so slowly seemed to drift together.
Daphne Greengrass alone may not have been enough for Harry Potter's salvation, but she was very much the last piece of the puzzle that formed it.
......
Thanks again Tpobaw. And I spent most of this teary eyed.
I hope this brings broken readers some small measure of hope and to those who may have been affected by such experiences, there is hope, its never too late to save yourself.