On a lone bench in the park nearby was where he first found her. She looked lost to him and to the world around herself.
The chilly winter sent shivers down his spine under two layers of clothing, but there she was, in only a jacket and without any headwear.
Wasn't she cold?
He thought about speaking to her, but she seemed unapproachable for talks, as she stared off into the winter air.
Besides, he had moved to the neighbourhood only recently. Neither of them knew each other that well. Not now. The time before… didn't count.
He hesitated for a while, going to and fro between his mind and his heart, but eventually settled for the former.
(Break)
Sometimes, it happens that out of the blue, one can't stop paying attention to the people with whom they have barely interacted in their lives.
The brain automatically starts searching for them in the crowd, without one's own control or consciousness.
For the next few days, Harry found himself in this exact predicament.
He couldn't stop himself from noticing her or searching for her near the park.
Sometimes she was there; sometimes his efforts were in vain. But when she was there, it would always be with the same lost look.
Once or twice, she saw him looking at her, but he quickly used to move on, as if he hadn’t been.
He never actually stopped to think about her, until that day.
(Break)
It was the time of his once-a-month visit to his parents. and he was surprised to find her there, to say the least.
On the way to his parents', he found her rooted to her spot in front of a white headstone.
It wasn't something he expected, and neither should it have mattered to him that he had.
He thought about continuing on his path, but something stopped him. The expressions on her face. She looked more like a statue than a human, so much that it reminded him of someone.
Unable to stop himself, he approached her from behind, but just when he was about to tap her shoulder to talk to her, his legs faltered.
The headstone in front of her was engraved with the words.
Anthony Greengrass
15-02-1958 31-08-2002
Maria Greengrass
27-05-1959 31-08-2002
Together, forever, with our family.
While he was digesting this information, his gaze fell upon the grave next to them.
Astoria Greengrass
17-06-1982 31-08-2002
The light that never extinguished.
Her parents.
Her sister.
Her entire family?
His heart sank even further into his stomach.
For the first time since he came across her, he could understand the reasons behind her condition, why she looked like someone he knew, and he hoped against hope that he was wrong.
He subconsciously started stepping away from her.
It wasn't something he should have interrupted. It was her personal life. He should have minded his own business.
Unfortunately, and unknown to him, a twig snapped loudly under his foot, and the sound echoed through the graveyard.
This caused her to come out of her reverie, and she noticed his presence for the first time.
Her face was still impassive, but now it was accompanied with a frown and a look of mistrust.
Neither of them made an attempt to start a conversation in the silence that followed.
For Harry, those were some of the most uncomfortable moments of his life.
He didn't want her to think that he was a creep, but he had no idea what else he could say to explain the situation.
Finally, Daphne turned away from him to give a last glance to the graves.
To her family.
Then she took the path that led to the outside street, ignoring his existence all the while.
Harry watched her moving away and followed her with his eyes as she took a turn at the entrance of the graveyard.
Sighing, ‘That went well,’ he thought.
It was stupid of him to disturb her. Didn't he know how awkward and irritating that felt?
‘Why did I do that?’ he questioned himself.
Remembering the reason for his own visit, he thought about visiting his parents, but he wasn’t sure what he would be able to say.
Her face was still etched at the forefront of his mind.
Seeing no purpose in staying there further, he also walked towards the exit of the graveyard.
After his little stunt inside, he didn't expect her to linger there anymore, but there she was, talking to a woman he’d seen around the neighbourhood.
He watched them from afar, or watched one of them, to be precise.
She was answering all the questions the lady asked her. But it was obvious to him, even from a distance, that her heart wasn’t in it.
The lady also noticed the same and hugged her before they parted ways.
Harry stood there at the entrance, leaning against the gate, reflecting on what he had learnt of her life.
(Break)
After that incident in the graveyard, he started giving her the necessary space that he thought she needed and deserved away from his prying eyes.
But even though his brain was telling him all this, his eyes still managed to find her, and it left him feeling mad at himself.
She left her house early in the mornings for work and returned back late in the evenings. She didn't talk to anyone except when she was exchanging pleasantries with the neighbours, albeit half-heartedly, and only the ones started by them.
After work she could be found either at the bench in the park or in the graveyard.
At those times, she would be trying to kill herself with the cold. The bitter December winds began circling through Godric’s Hollow as the month marched on.
Eventually, the neighbours moved on with their lives, and no one except the old woman was seen talking to her.
Then again, she was the grandma of the neighbourhood, and it was after a conversation with her that Harry felt that he should approach her once again.
One day when he returned from work, he found the old woman taking a stroll around the neighbourhood and went to talk to her.
“Hello, Mrs. Smith,” he greeted. “How are you this fine evening?”
“I am cold, dear, very cold,” she said, shaking her head. “I am sure that I won't survive the winter this year. It was never this cold before.”
“Please, Mrs. Smith,” Harry said, smirking. “What can this common cold do to a hot woman like you?”
“Shush you,” she said, smiling a little. “Go flirt with someone your age. And for the last time, it is ‘Cassandra,’ not 'Mrs. Smith.' Understand, young man?”
“Okay, okay, Cassandra,” he replied. “I am just testing my skills. If a veteran like you can fall for my charms, then how difficult will it be to attract these young, innocent darlings?”
“Oh, you are sorely mistaken, Harry dear,” she said, now wearing a matching smirk of her own. “And I hope I am there to see your face when your happy bubble bursts.”
“Of course, you will be,” Harry said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Who else is going to change my child's nappies?”
She laughed at his response, but whatever she was going to say was stopped by the arrival of another.
It was her.
“Keys, Aunt,” she said. “I will be back as soon as possible.”
She handed over the keys to Cassandra, who held them tightly in her hand.
Once again, dressed in clothes not warm enough for the chill of the night.
“Don't take stress, Daphne,” Cassandra said. “In fact, take a day or two off more. Enjoy some time. I'll manage here just fine.”
“Thank you, Aunt, but I will be back as soon as my work is finished. Take care.”
“You too, dear,” she said.
Daphne nodded in reply and gave him an unreadable look before turning and walking away.
Cassandra watched her retreating figure with a sad smile, while Harry’s mind was full of questions.
“Aunt?” He asked. “So, she is your… niece? I didn't know that.”
“Not biologically,” she said. “But she is nothing less than one. I was friends with her father and watched her as she grew up. Poor soul, that one. Lost her entire family in a day.”
“How… How did this happen, if you don't mind me asking?” He finally asked, “And how is she coping?”
Harry had tried his best to keep his distance from her and her affairs, but he was fed up with all the questions, and now he had the perfect person to get the answers from.
“As good as one copes on losing the entire family, dear,” she replied sadly.
Harry turned away to compose himself at her look. She was among the only ones here who knew about his parents.
“They had a very ugly accident,” she continued. “Daphne was at work when it happened; that's how she survived. But ever since, she has restricted herself to home and work.”
She took a deep breath after that as if coming to a decision.
“Talk to her, Harry,” she said. “She won't talk to me, but maybe she will talk to you. You were classmates, if I am not wrong. And you can understand her.”
It was true. They were classmates in school, but that was the extent of it. They had not interacted with each other apart from a few acknowledgements over the years. He hadn’t even recognised her at first when he came to live here after Hogwarts. Calling them anything more than acquaintances will be an overstatement.
“Me?” he questioned. “Why not you? You are her family after all.”
“Because sometimes people can talk to their friends more easily than their family, and perhaps you are the only one here who can understand her.”
Harry said nothing to her, but he nodded eventually, and she gave him a grateful smile.
They went their separate ways after that but had thoughts of the same woman in their minds.
The scenes from the past few weeks came to the forefront of Harry's mind along with some of his own old memories.
‘This can't go on,’ he decided that day. ‘This can't go on.’
(Break)
It didn't take long before the opportunity presented itself.
He had not visited his parents in a long time, and that's where he found her again.
In the graveyard, sitting alone on one of the few benches in the corner, in far fewer layers of clothing than recommended to make the chilly December of England bearable.
A single jacket, boots, and dishevelled hair after a day's work were what he had come to associate with her normal appearance.
He didn't want to imagine how cold she must be feeling; seeing her like this was chilly enough for him.
‘Grief be damned; she'll die from this cold first,’ he thought.
Deciding his course of action, he made his way towards her and sat next to her without saying anything.
If she noticed his presence, she didn't show it, and both of them remained in the solitude that neither was willing to break.
He felt like she came out of her own world for a second and turned to look at him with a frown, but he wasn't sure.
Instead, he focused on what he wanted to say to his parents.
Coming here was not something he enjoyed either; seeing their names engraved on the stone made him all too aware of the bitter truth every passing second, but it was still better than feeling all alone in his house.
He had no idea how long they had sat there. A few minutes, perhaps for a couple, or maybe even for an hour.
But eventually she rose from her place next to him and walked towards the exit without a backward glance at him.
This continued for a couple of days; he would find her sitting all alone, join her in silence, and part ways without making any attempt at starting a conversation.
It wasn't until their fifth session that his presence had grated enough on her patience, and probably her nerves as well. something she told him later. But for now, she graced him with her voice. For the very first time during his visits.
“Why do you keep coming here?” Daphne asked while he was making an attempt to sit next to her.
She also put her hand on the empty spot next to her, denying him the space to sit.
“I’m not bothering you, am I?” He replied softly.
“Not physically,” she said coldly. “But you are unnecessarily entering my space, my time, and my brain when it tries to come up with your reasoning.”
“It is public property, so I have no idea how I am affecting your personal space. Also… I am flattered that you considered me worthy enough to be in your brain,” Harry replied with a twitching of his lips.
The glare Daphne gave him in reply was nothing to be happy for; in fact, it made him subconsciously step back. Still, he was happy because she wasn't being an emotionless statue for the first time in weeks, even if the emotion was less than friendly.
“Who do you think you are, Potter?” She questioned in frustration.
He had no idea why, but he felt like giving a cheeky answer to her at that moment would be the best course of action.
“You don't remember me?” He grinned. “We were in the same year at school, and I was quite popular there, if I am being honest.”
For some reason his mind couldn't comprehend, she got even more infuriated at his answer.
“You know very well that I didn't mean that, Potter. Also, it would have been better if you were as humble as I remember,” Daphne mumbled through gritted teeth.
“So you admit it, that you remember me,” Harry said with a cheshire grin and then proceeded to sit next to her.
Daphne shuffled away from him as much as she could without slipping from the bench.
She even removed her jacket and placed it in between them, leaving herself in only a turtleneck jumper, something which highly amused and worried him after this rough interaction. Especially as the icy wind whipped through the trees behind them.
When the cold became too unbearable for her, she picked up the jacket and left, and he was left alone with the graves once more.
(Break)
“Let’s get it settled then,” Daphne said in a surprisingly firm tone when he sat next to her the next time.
She turned to face him for the first time, and he was shocked to find the anger behind her eyes.
Harry knew at that moment, from her expressions when she looked at his arriving figure, that this time he was not going to be met with silence, but he still was not expecting such a direct approach.
‘Are my appearances really affecting her that much?’ he thought worriedly.
In a tone that matched his own surprise, he said, “Settled with what? And how?”
“With your intentions, dear friend. Now would you mind telling me why you keep coming here when we don't even know each other?"
“We were classmates, Daphne,” he said. “For several years.”
“Seven,” she replied. “I remember quite well, and so can I count the number of times we have actually interacted over the years. It would be less than the fingers on my hands, so stop this drama and tell me honestly. Why. Are. You. Here?”
The way she had uttered the last part gave him enough hint that being truthful would be the best course of action.
She wasn't going to be satisfied with anything else.
So he gave her the truth.
“Because I don't want you to lose yourself in grief, Daphne. You have an entire life ahead of you.”
The way her jaw tightened told him that she took it in the worst way possible.
“I think I can decide, better than you, as to how I want to proceed with my life,” she replied in an icy cold voice that replicated the weather. "Thank you very much for your concern, but it was never required.”
“Don't get me wrong, Daphne,” he said placatingly. “I didn't mean to offend you. Not at all. I am just saying that they won't want to see you like this. You need to talk to someone.”
This, however, only managed to anger her further, and she said, “If you think you are the only one to offer your shoulder to cry on, then you are seriously mistaken, Potter. I still have someone left, and you are the last person with whom I'll share anything.”
The hostility against him left him off guard. They had never interacted much in the years at school, so he had no idea what made her so mad with him.
“What have I done, Daphne?” He asked in astonishment.
“What have you done?” She asked angrily. “Seriously, you have the nerve to ask that! Was it not your intention to charm another ‘young innocent darling’ or to rescue a damsel in distress?”
‘Young, innocent darling,’ he realised what she was implying, and his heart dropped. She was there that day. Had she been thinking that since the first day?
“Daphne, I didn't mean that…”
“I don't care what you meant, and I don't care about your reasons for being here. Do me a favour: don't show me your face ever again. It'll be highly appreciated.”
It was evident that she was not in the mood to hear him out, and neither would any of his explanations do anything to soothe her.
The darkening clouds in the sky had also started to reflect her mood.
“If that's what you wish,” he said softly. “But hear me out first: that day with your aunt, Cassandra, I was just joking around. You can ask her for yourself. I had no idea you had heard that, and I didn't mean it. I am sorry that I am a bother to you. I will take my leave.”
He gave her an apologising nod and slowly returned along the path he had taken to reach her.
Her eyes glared at his retreating figure as he distanced himself from her. Hoping she would at least return home before the rain started.
(Break)
True to his words, Harry didn't come back to talk to her. In fact, he didn't return at all.
In the following days, Daphne didn't see Harry Potter anywhere.
Neither did he return to the park, nor did he go to meet her aunt.
She had initially thought that he would have gone to her to urge her to rectify the situation, but he had done no such thing.
In fact, it was Daphne herself who had to extract the details of the chit-chat she had partially overheard.
Now, she felt guilty for some of the things she had screamed in anger, but more than that, she missed his silent company, as strange as it sounded.
Daphne frowned at herself.
She was not stupid to not realise what made her snap at him. It was months of frustration and anger that she had accumulated within her, and she fired it at him at his first mistake, or what she thought was his first mistake.
‘He shouldn't have decided to be a hero,’ she said to herself.
‘But what gives you the right to say all the things you did?’ a voice said in her head
It sounded suspiciously like her younger sister.
‘He should have minded his own business.’
‘He was just trying to help you.’
‘I don't need anyone's help! I'm not some charity case.’
She silenced the voice in her head for two reasons. First, it still hurt to think about them, and second, she hated how right the voice was. Instead, she tried focusing on anything except Harry Potter.
It didn't work.
Try as she might, she was not able to reduce her guilt, and it was only increasing with the passing time.
Harry didn't make his appearance for days, until one day she found him entering the graveyard.
She stiffened on seeing him, but he didn't come near her. In fact, she was not even sure that he had seen her or not.
He made his way towards another end of the graveyard, some place far from her family.
She debated with herself whether she should follow him or not for a few minutes and then decided to do the former.
He had already inserted himself into her private life without any permission, so why couldn’t she do the same?
He was also due an apology from her for her outburst, but that depended on his behaviour.
Daphne stood up from her place and followed the path he had taken.
There he was, with his back to her, standing in front of a white marble headstone.
Slowly, she positioned herself behind him in such a way that it wouldn’t be considered snooping, but she would still be able to see the names on the grave.
However, her efforts bore no fruit as she gasped as soon as she saw the names, and he was alerted to her presence.
The graves belonged to his parents.
James Potter - Lily Potter
27-03-1960 30-01-1960
31-10-1981 31-10-1981
The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.
In her depressed state, she had forgotten that Harry was also an orphan. In fact, he had lost his parents when he was just an infant, and that realisation left her shattered.
He had come to help her because he could genuinely understand her plight. But she had insulted him in the worst possible way. It left her close to tears when she realised how he must have felt.
“Hello, Daphne,” Harry said softly when he turned back to look at her. There was a sorrow in his voice that she never noticed in any of her prior conversations with him.
“I... I'm so sorry,” her voice shaking with the devastation that she felt. “I am terribly sorry for what I said. I… I…”
“Don't be,” he said with a sad smile. “I get it. You were really depressed over them.”
"But that doesn't give me the right to yell at you, to say all those things to you. I am really very sorry, Pott... Harry."
Harry just nodded in reply because he didn't trust his voice to say anything.
It was one thing to sit in a corner, at a little distance from his parents, but now…
They stayed in silence for a few minutes before it was broken by Daphne.
“I... I was such a bitch,” she closed her eyes in shame and looked downwards.
Harry, not wanting to see her cry, let his mouth speak the first thing he could think of.
“Well, you can certainly bite,” he said.
Daphne was so surprised at his reply that she couldn't help but let out a chuckle.
The mood lifted a little in the tense atmosphere, or as much as can be done in a graveyard.
“In your defence, it wasn't the greatest of ideas. I am assuming you thought of me as a creepy stalker who wanted to take advantage of… what was it? A damsel in distress?” He questioned.
Daphne wasn't sure how to reply to that, so she just nodded. She had thought of him as much worse than a ‘creepy stalker’ but didn't want to admit it out loud.
“What made you think that it'll actually work?” She genuinely asked. “That I would talk to you because I can't see any scenario where I wouldn't have raged at you.”
“I was ready for your anger. It was expected. If not me, it would have exploded on someone else, sooner or later, but whenever it happens, talking becomes easier.”
“Still, what makes you think that I would have talked to you even after that?”
“Because it happened in my case. When Sirius died, Ron and Hermione practically became my shadow. Hermione, especially. At times, I released all of my anger, frustration, and irritation on them, but they never left. They listened to me, and it helped. It helped a lot.”
He thought that he was forgetting something significant, and Daphne didn’t wait long to enlighten him.
“So…,” she couldn't stop the incredulous note from coming into her voice, “You thought that the way your friends… no, your best friends helped you, the way you were able to share your thoughts, your feelings with them, would work the same on a random stranger. That I'll start sharing my personal problems with you after you… after your… actions, seriously?”
“Err…” he trailed off. “When you say it like that…”
It sounded stupid. It was stupid. He mentally facepalmed at his idiocy. Now that she explained how his actions appeared to her, he wanted to whack his past self for his stupidity.
‘Did I really think it would work?’ He groaned.
“So it goes without saying that I suck at cheering people up,” he mumbled. “Cheers.”
For the second time that day, his attempt at a joke worked, even though this one wasn't intentional, and Daphne smiled a little, much to his satisfaction.
She looked him in the eyes and gathered her courage to talk about things that she had pushed within herself.
"This pain," she asked, "Does this ever go away?"
"No," he said, "but it becomes a part of us. And I've learnt that talking about it helps."
At her raised eyebrows, he elaborated, “My friends, Ron and Hermione, they helped me a lot in getting over it, especially when Sirius, my godfather, died. I didn't treat them well, shouted at them, even fought with them, but they never left me. They were always there for me to turn to, and I can say for sure that I wouldn't be here if it weren't for them.”
He took a deep breath, paused a little, and finally said, “I am an orphan, but you still have some family left who cares for you, your aunt. All I’m saying is don't lose yourself in your grief.”
He gave her a pointed look and didn't relax until she slowly bobbed her head in affirmation.
They stood there in their usual silence. However, this time the lack of any connection between them was replaced by a budding sense of friendship.
(Break)
They met each other a few times in the coming week, but this time it was in the park where he had first seen her.
It went without saying that a graveyard was not a place where people talked about a budding friendship or had a heart-to-heart discussion about their personal lives.
It was for that purpose that Daphne found herself waiting for Harry. Usually he was on time for their meet-ups, but today he was not.
Soon enough the waiting came to an end, and he arrived with a mouth full of apologies.
“Sorry, sorry,” he apologised. “I am really sorry. I’m late.”
Harry rubbed his hands together to gain some additional warmth and was once again flabbergasted by her suicidal tendencies as she was in only a jacket, boots, and a scarf.
“I can see that,” Daphne said with a smile.
“I was busy with the preparations for Christmas.”
The mention of Christmas left a sour taste in her mouth. Christmas was something she had cherished. It used to be the time of the year she eagerly awaited. Daphne, her sister, and their parents—all of them.
That's why she wasn’t celebrating it this year. She wasn’t sure how she would be able to join the celebrations without being reminded of times and the people she had lost.
Harry noticed her downcast expression and said softly, “Trust me. You will have a great time there.”
“I don't think I can join you,” Daphne said softly. “It will be hard. It's better I spend the day on my own.”
He gazed at her intently and then took a seat next to her.
Sighing, he said, “I know it will be hard. It always is. Halloween brings all the bad memories to me. It doesn't help either that my school years were full of… exciting events at this point of year. I am not saying you have to forget everyone and everything. It's not possible. Hell, even I feel suffocated and frustrated at times. It'd be hypocritical of me to expect it from you. I am just saying that you should give other things a chance as well.”
“How many tries did it take before you came up with this little piece of motivation?” she asked with a smile.
Talking with him over the days gave her a clear idea that subtlety and open discussions were not his strong points. He must have practiced it beforehand.
Harry noticed the change in subject but decided to play along.
“I can see how much my help is appreciated.”
Daphne raised her eyebrow and commented, “Am I not talking to the same person who thought that sitting next to me with a permanent mute was a good way to start a companionship?”
“Touché,” he conceded, and then elaborated. “Quite a number of times actually, and it is not something I came up with either. It is something Hermione said to me once, and it stuck. I just quoted her. She still uses this to pull me out of my… supposed misery.”
They chatted about various topics after that until the time for their departure came.
Harry rose from his spot and dusted the few small snowflakes from his clothes. Giving her a final nod, he said, “I will be waiting for you there, Daphne. Think about it.”
With that he left her alone with her thoughts and the beginnings of snowfall.
(Break)
Christmas Eve saw Harry in the nearby church. He had agreed to join the neighbours there to join in the festive mood.
Carols were going on with full enthusiasm, and the lighting was giving a pleasant ambiance.
The crowd was growing inside, so he had come out to take a breath and enjoy the humming and rhythms of music.
It was nice outside with fewer people, but he preferred the warmth inside. But then again, you can't always get what you want.
It was getting too cold for his comfort, and he wished Daphne would come sooner rather than later.
They were slowly heading towards midnight, but there was still no sign of her. He was starting to feel that she might not come at all.
Maybe he had hoped for too much in too little time.
“Can I help you with something?” A voice spoke from behind and broke his musings, and he turned back to look at its source.
To his complete surprise, it was the woman of his thoughts.
“You came?” He asked, surprised but equally pleased.
“What do you think?” Daphne questioned back.
His initial shock wore off, and it was replaced with happiness. Even though he was wishing for it, he didn't have much hope that it would happen. A part of him was continuously commenting that it wouldn’t be that easy for her. Hell, it was not easy for him even after all these years.
But there she was, in her usual jacket, turtleneck jumper, and jeans. However, this time her hair was looking better.
“You can help,” he said. “But have your Christmas gift first.”
She raised her eyebrows at that.
“Isn't this supposed to be given tomorrow?”
“Yes. But looking at you, I fear that you might not survive the night.
“Thank you so much for your confidence. But can I know the reasons behind your assessment of my survival instincts?”
“Open it first,” he said. “It's self-explanatory.”
He nearly shoved a wrapped packet into her hands. She opened it with a raised eyebrow and laughed when the contents of it became visible. It was one of the most genuine laughs he had heard over their previous few meetings.
“So you like it?” He asked, pointing towards the woolly hat.
“That I do, Harry Potter. But let me ease your worries. This little cold is not going to affect me much.”
She stated that with such an air of indifference that he would have believed her if he hadn't known that it snowed earlier that day.
“You call this little!” he said incredulously.
“Yes, I do. I have lived half of my life in the north, close to Scotland. This cold is nothing in comparison with that.”
“So I worried for nothing,” Harry grumbled. “Here, give my hat back.”
“No,” she said with a push and quickly put it on. “It's my property now. A gift from a close friend. Shove off.”
She laughed again at his grumbling face and rubbing of hands to keep himself warm, much to his annoyance.
“Now,” she added. “A not-moody friend of mine is waiting for me inside. He promised me a festive time. So will you mind stepping away?”
She didn't wait for his response and passed ahead.
Seeing her happy and in a festive mood gave Harry hope that she wouldn't fall into the depression that he had endured in his own life.
It was not going to be easy, and neither would it be quick, but he had hope and believed she would be able to come through this.
He looked at Daphne again, and noticing her uncertain look at the procession going on inside, shook his head to clear his thoughts and joined her.
It was the first of many Merry Christmases.