Always
Daphne woke up slowly, squeezing a pillow into her chest. It was comforting, yet lacked warmth, and she found herself frowning as a result.
Blinking her eyes, she was startled by her surroundings as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The fireplace was empty, but Daphne could still feel some warmth radiating from it, glowing embers the only light source.
Sitting up, she found that she was not in a bed, but rather on a couch. A burgundy-coloured rug covered the area between her and the fireplace, and she was only just able to make out the walls as some dark-coloured stone. Was this a common room? Where was she?
Just as Daphne's nerves had begun to set in, her eyes found a now-familiar figure sitting awkwardly in an armchair beside the couch.
Momentarily calming, Daphne panicked when she realised that she couldn't remember anything past healing Harry's hand. Then she remembered that healing his hand was exactly why she didn't recall anything past that point.
She felt her cheeks tint as the memory played in her mind.
They hadn't even shared any notes.
Harry was here, though.
But that meant he hadn't gone to his detention.
Oh no.
Now they had to figure out what to do about it. Whilst Daphne was relieved that Harry hadn't sat through more of what a second detention would entail, Umbridge would be up in arms over his absence.
Better that than another detention, she thought.
Harry appeared as if he were still asleep, though he sat as if he were awake. It was an odd position for one to sleep in.
I wish I could freshen up.
Daphne would be terribly embarrassed if he saw her like this, first thing in the morning. At least, she assumed that it was morning.
Out of nowhere, a door materialised beside the fireplace without a sound. She goggled at it for a moment.
It'd come straight out of the stone wall right in front of her eyes. Standing, she cautiously tiptoed towards it, keeping an eye on Harry to make sure he didn't wake up.
The doorknob was cool to the touch, a soft click the only noise as she twisted it.
Inside, she came across a lowly-lit bathroom, featuring a shower, bathtub, toilet and sink, with a mirror stretching across the wall.
What is this place?
Daphne wasn't one to waste a good opportunity. She was about to lock the door with her wand when she realised it wasn't on her.
Harry must've put it somewhere, along with her other things. He didn't seem like the type to barge in without knocking.
There existed a strange degree of trust between them, or so Daphne thought. Maybe she was imagining things again. It seemed to be a common occurrence with her lately.
The warm water cleared her mind as she stepped under it. Showering quickly, she was further surprised to see a fluffy white towel appear, hanging on the wall just beside her.
Am I in some sort of bizarre fever dream?
When a change of clothes appeared beside the sink, she didn't even blink. Examining the undergarments, Daphne immediately identified them as her own, which set her further at ease.
A small chute below the sink caught her eye. Throwing caution to the wind, she dumped her discarded clothes into it. It was a relief seeing herself looking somewhat alive in the mirror above the sink. Hints of her exhaustion remained, the skin under her eyes being slightly darker than usual. Yet, she felt good. Great, even.
She couldn't resist a small smile. It'd been the best night's sleep that she'd had in a long time.
Upon finishing the rest of her morning routine, she warily opened the door back to where she'd come from. Immediately, Daphne noticed that Harry's chair was now vacant.
Walking back over to her couch, she got a better view of the room. It seemed to be incrementally lighter within, but she could not see anything that would illuminate it. Except for the area near the fireplace, the rest of it was bare. The room looked too big for what occupied it, and the masonry was overtly uniform. Grey masonry only added to the monotony.
Daphne was delighted to see her bookbag beneath a small table next to the couch, which happened to contain her wand. She sat down, deciding to pass the time by skimming through the notes she'd planned to share with Harry.
He seemed much more competent than she'd presumed before. Sure, Daphne knew that he was a top student, and judging by how he'd dealt with the other Slytherins, perhaps the top student.
Suddenly, her notes felt inadequate.
If he's so smart, then why would he have agreed to meet?
A low grating noise made Daphne jump, and she peeked over the back of the couch.
Towards the back of the room, a tall double door seemed to materialise in the stone. She sat there, frozen, as it swung open, one side banging against the wall loudly. It made her flinch, but she was unable to move.
A tall silhouette strode in, walking at a furious pace. Their broad shoulders and stiff posture did nothing to alleviate her nerves.
It reminded her of when her father was in a mood.
"Hello?" Daphne called quietly, the audible tremor in her voice making her cringe.
They immediately stalled, and Daphne saw the shoulders slump slightly.
"It's me," a familiar voice called back quietly. "Sorry."
She found herself immediately relaxing, full of relief.
"Where've you been?" Daphne asked quickly, her notes forgotten. "Where are we?"
As he neared, she wondered what he'd done to get in such a state.
Harry seemed to be dripping with sweat, wearing clothes she'd never seen before. They accentuated his figure well, however, and Daphne had to make a conscious effort to stop her mind from wandering.
It felt embarrassing to need to acknowledge her prior thoughts. She'd never had to deal with something like this before.
He seems to have enough issues without me adding on, she thought morosely as she stared at him. Then again, I have a healthy bunch too.
"I was out," he said. "I'll explain in a moment."
As he spoke, another door materialised on the opposite side of the fireplace to where hers had been.
Harry ducked in without a backwards glance.
After what had to be less than ten minutes, he was out again. Though when he walked out, he hadn't quite finished buttoning up his white uniform shirt.
Daphne caught a glimpse of a well-built chest and couldn't stop her eyes from roving. That was when she saw it.
Just before he concealed it beneath the shirt, she caught a glimpse of something dark beneath his left collarbone.
"What's that?" she blurted. "On your chest."
He muttered something that sounded like a curse under his breath, grimacing when he met her eyes.
"You and questions, huh?" he replied, his exasperation obvious.
"Sorry," she said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms as she eyed him.
Harry looked taken aback at her sarcasm briefly, and she couldn't help but smile at catching him off-guard.
"I should be more careful around someone like you," he muttered, throwing her an amused glance.
"Someone's got to put you in your place."
He returned her smile, but it dimmed rapidly.
"I suppose I owe you some answers," Harry said as he sagged into the armchair, not meeting her eyes. "Which first?"
"Is that a tattoo?" Daphne asked, unable to stifle her curiosity as her eyes shot to his left collarbone again.
"Yeah, it is."
His blunt answer brought her attention back to his face, and Daphne thought he seemed to be struggling with himself.
"Right," he mumbled in resignation as he fiddled with his top button.
To her secret delight, Harry undid a few more, baring his left collarbone to her.
MCMXCIII
She read it twice, unable to decipher the word before it clicked in her mind.
"Those are Roman numerals, right?" she asked, leaning in to get a closer look.
Harry nodded, before buttoning his shirt up again.
"1993," he said.
"The year?" Daphne questioned.
He simply nodded once more.
"I suppose you aren't one to blab?" Harry asked, his intense stare suddenly boring into her.
Daphne felt like shrinking back but composed herself, feeling she could trust him somewhat.
Trust.
What a dangerous word.
"No," she answered, looking straight back at him. "I won't tell anyone."
She hadn't expected it, but he began to explain.
"My godfather was Sirius Black."
"The criminal?" Daphne asked, eyes wide.
"The very same, although he was innocent. Pettigrew framed him, and he never received a trial," Harry explained with a distant look.
"Pettigrew?"
"One of my dad's old friends. He was the secret keeper for my parents, and gave the secret to Voldemort."
Daphne was floored. It felt like she was already in far deeper than she'd anticipated. But he was trusting her, and it was with something big, she knew.
"Why don't you tell someone?" she questioned, squirming in her position on the couch.
"Pettigrew evaded us, and without him we had nothing," he replied. "Anyway, that was the year Sirius came for me. It was the first summer I didn't have to go back to my relatives."
She didn't want to prod more, though she did notice the resentment filtering into his tone as he spoke the final word. He didn't seem fond of them.
That was when it caught up to her.
"Was?" Daphne asked in a hushed whisper. "What do you mean, was?"
He looked confused, and then his expression blanked.
"He died," Harry said, continuing as if he hadn't heard her gasp. "At the end of the Triwizard Tournament."
Daphne fumbled for words, taking a moment to process what he'd said.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured finally, gazing at him sadly. "That's horrible."
"Yeah."
He stared at the ground, jaw set. The roughness in his voice seemed to tear at her very soul.
"Who do you stay with now? Is there someone you can talk to?"
Harry met her stare, and only now that the warmth in his eyes was gone did Daphne notice that it had been there in the first place.
"No one," he said in a low tone, pulling on his boots. "I'm technically on the run until I'm seventeen — if the Ministry finds out I'm no longer with my relatives, they can take legal custody of me."
Daphne had an intense desire to envelop him in a hug. Hugs made everything better.
"But Harry," Daphne started, trying to catch his attention again, "can't you just stay with your relatives then? Until you're seventeen?"
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Again.
"Not a chance, they're assholes," he said immediately, fiddling with the laces. "If you're going to report me to the Ministry, go ahead. I couldn't care less. Thanks for healing my hand though, I appreciate your actions and will remember them. I owe you, Greengrass."
She tried to protest as Harry stood and walked back towards the door he'd entered through, but she couldn't bring herself to pursue him. He seemed to need some alone time, if not someone to talk to. His rushed formalities made that obvious enough.
He has no one.
It wasn't something Daphne had to question. He was easy to read. To her, at least. Maybe she saw some of her own growing cynicism towards people in him, or her newfound state of loneliness enabled her to pick up on subtle cues more than she would otherwise. A slight furrowing of the eyebrows, or a glance at his feet. Both seemed to be some of his more common tics when he was uncomfortable.
Was he so different to her? It was a sobering question to ask herself, and Daphne didn't quite know if she wanted the answer.
She wasn't even sure who she had anymore. Tracey felt like a lost cause, and Daphne already felt over-invested in someone else who should still be a stranger to her.
Yet, it was also entirely her fault.
The tall doors didn't close once he'd left. Instead, it remained wide open, as if beckoning her out.
Daphne slowly packed up her things to leave. She was still struggling to come to terms with what she'd learnt.
It was all so much.
His boots echoed harshly off the hard stone floor.
Harry clenched his fists tightly, trying to keep the anger at bay. It felt dangerously close to overwhelming him.
If only he was still in the Room of Requirement. Then he could blast it apart over and over again with no repercussions. Well, Daphne might think him insane, if she didn't already.
Their discussion had taken several turns, and they'd mostly all been initiated by him. Harry didn't know why he'd blurted out as much as he had, but it was done now. Greengrass would probably never speak to him again.
Oh well.
Her situation was scarily similar to his own. However, she didn't have a dark lord after her. It was probably best that he was left alone, though he still felt he owed her heavily.
He let out a breath. What should he do?
Healing his hand couldn't have been an easy task, as Harry doubted that even Madam Pomfrey would be able to achieve what she had. It would be enlightening to learn where she'd developed such skill. Not that he was likely to find out now.
Daphne was the first person he'd trusted purely on instinct. Not even Sirius would've been able to say the same — he'd had proof in the form of Pettigrew. Harry had thought him to be responsible for the murder of his parents until the real culprit appeared right before his eyes in the Shrieking Shack.
It could also be that through his many misadventures in his animagus form that he'd developed some sort of parasocial relationship with her. Harry always ran into her whilst sneaking around the castle. It was impressive how she usually spotted him, especially when nobody else had.
She also didn't look half bad. Far from it, though he could tell she must've had a rough few nights as of late.
Unfortunately, Harry could safely wipe that thought from his mind. It would mean a new type of trust that he wasn't sure he was ready for. She would also need to like him.
Fat chance.
But what if?
The possibilities calmed him down immediately as he lapsed back into thought.
She hadn't pushed him very much at all. He'd just felt comfortable enough venting to her. Only time would tell if that was a mistake — one that could cost him everything he had left if she decided to blab to the right person.
Yet Daphne didn't seem like the type. At least, that's what he told himself. Unless his vision had deceived him, Harry knew she had a genuine character. Something in her eyes just seemed to scream sincerity.
He came to an abrupt halt, an internal war of thoughts raging.
Should I?
Now was not the time to be indecisive.
He turned around, retracing his steps at what was now a more sedate pace.
Daphne was just exiting the Room as he rounded the corner, and she met his gaze immediately.
"Harry?" she asked as he neared, confusion written all over her face as the door faded away behind her.
"I-" He paused, unsure how to proceed. "I shouldn't have said that."
"No, it's okay," she replied, eyes softening. "I'd be surprised if you didn't react like that."
The relief he felt was stronger than he'd expected, and if he wasn't mistaken, her eyes looked a little teary.
"Thanks. By the way, did you uh… want to get away for a bit?"
The immediate nod he received had not been anticipated at all.
"Of course! Where to?" Daphne exclaimed.
"Shhh," he hushed, making sure the corridor was still empty. "Why so eager?"
"I've got to get out of here," she groaned, sending a pleading look his way. "It's all so tiresome."
He could empathise with her. He also doubted that he'd be able to say no to that expression.
"Alright, alright, but it's a secret," Harry replied with a playful wink, forgetting his prior irritation. "Plus, I've got to avoid Umbridge."
"You didn't go to her detention, did you?" she asked hopefully, the beginnings of a smile forming.
When he shook his head, it appeared in full.
"You can't go to any more, Harry."
"I'll have to work on how to get out of them, then," he said. "I do owe you, but let's just get out of here first, yeah? Keep up."
"Yes! But I've got to go put my book bag away, and-"
"No time for that," Harry interrupted, holding his hand out.
Daphne took her wand out and handed it over. He quickly shrunk it, handing it back to her to tuck away.
"Oh. Thanks.'
Harry noticed her cheeks redden with what was presumably embarrassment, but he didn't let her dwell on it. He walked past her at a brisk pace with just the place in mind.
He heard her running to keep up, and looked back to see her trying to catch up, already pink-cheeked with exertion.
"Where were you before, by the way?" she panted out as she finally caught up. "Those clothes?"
"I went for a run," Harry explained. "Those clothes are made for running."
"A run? Why on earth would you do that? And with special clothes?"
"To stay fit?" he asked back, giving her an incredulous look that was immediately returned. "It helps when I'm angry."
"Didn't seem to this time," Daphne mumbled.
Her eyes shot up to his as she spoke, and he suspected she didn't mean to say that part aloud. He let it go, however.
He couldn't blame her in the slightest.
"Yeah. Sometimes things just don't work out as we wanted them to."
The rest of their walk was silent as Harry led her through the castle. Still early in the morning on a Sunday, the corridors were near empty once again. They had to move quickly.
Daphne's look of curiosity only seemed to intensify as they walked, eyebrows raised and dimples visible as they made it to the entrance hall.
"Out of the castle?" she whispered excitedly as Harry slipped through the front doors with her.
"Yep," he replied, sharing her enthusiasm. Leaving the grounds never failed to make him feel lighter. It was part of why he enjoyed his runs so much, though this time he hadn't had time to go beyond the Black Lake with Daphne still there. Even so, she'd still woken before he'd gotten back, and presumably had figured out the Room to some extent.
He would explain it to her if she asked.
Once they were a sufficient distance away, Harry turned to her.
"Ready?"
"Always!" Daphne responded with a grin.
She's an eager one.
His arm was immediately taken by her as soon as he held it out, and he felt his skin tingling where it touched hers.
"Hold on."
Without further warning, he turned on the spot with her.
Harry had to steady her as they landed, but Daphne managed.
"Where are we?" she breathed, taking in their surroundings.
Leading her out of the alley he'd apparated her into, Harry smiled at the familiarity of the setting.
The sun, still low in the clear sky, cast warm shadows across the cobbles. Cars lazily trundled past, and a few pedestrians populated the sidewalks on either side of the road, with no one seeming to be in much of a rush to get anywhere.
A rare occurrence, he thought, to have both the traffic and the weather like this.
What had likely taken her attention, though, was the large body of water shining brilliantly in the sunlight.
"Muggle London," he replied as he watched her closely. "This is the River Thames, and that big building over there is where the muggle Houses of Parliament are. The bell inside that tower next to it is called 'Big Ben'."
Her eyes seemed to light up, following where he was pointing across the water, and she gave him a bright smile.
"I've heard of this once!" she exclaimed. "Wow. And those things going past making noise?"
Those damn dimples.
"Cars. Muggles use them like we use broomsticks, but they don't fly. They have something else for that."
Her smile somehow broadened even more as her eyes went wide, and she fired off another steady stream of questions.
He couldn't help but return a smile of his own. Her excitement was too infectious for him to keep brooding.
Daphne then flushed as her stomach rumbled audibly.
"This way," he beckoned, hiding his amusement.
She followed eagerly, walking alongside him as she tried to take in as much as she could.
It was both fulfilling and saddening to see her so amazed by what he considered a regular trip.