Broadside
"We need to leave," Harry said, gazing at her somberly.
Daphne nodded, leaving him to walk back over towards their attackers. As much as she wanted to heal his cheek, she knew they had more important matters at hand.
There would be no future at Hogwarts for them after something this brazen. Leaving was the only option, as she could never feel safe here again. She wondered if she ever had been.
"Tracey?"
Daphne gave the girl a long look, reaching out to grasp her by the shoulder.
"Will you come with us?"
Tracey met her gaze with tired eyes. She looked ready to fall over.
"What about Harry?" she asked quietly. "I don't think he likes me, and for good reason. I wouldn't want to intrude."
"He's not like that," Daphne defended. "He'll understand."
Harry was many things, but not outright cruel. She trusted him to make the right decision; even if Tracey had done wrong, she wasn't entirely at fault. There was no one for her to turn to. Daphne knew all too well how that could feel, and hoped she could start repairing their friendship.
"Okay then," Tracey responded.
Harry returned to them, throwing a glance at Tracey before speaking to her.
"We can't trust anyone with this," he muttered, "there's too much on the line. I've wiped their memories and left a note for Dumbledore. The professors will be here long before they wake up. Your father, and likely his associates, will do everything they can to get me, if not both of us, punished for this. You know what happened to my godfather."
Her heart sank, but she nodded anyway. There would be no going back. Daphne would prefer not to risk Harry being taken away from her like that — they'd never give him a fair go if her father got his way, especially with the current Minister of Magic.
Then again, she'd already thrown her lot in with Harry long ago. She didn't regret her choice in the slightest.
"What about her?" Harry asked, nodding his head towards Tracey.
"Harry, she has a name," she replied, sighing. "Tracey should come with us. That's okay, right?"
He grimaced, giving Tracey a long look.
"If you trust her," he eventually answered.
"I do," she answered honestly.
His intense gaze bored into her.
"Alright then."
Harry handed Tracey's wand back to her, muttering something unintelligible to the girl. She seemed stricken by what he'd said, but before Daphne could intervene, Tracey nodded sharply, determination written across her face.
"We need to go now if we stand any chance of getting out of here," Harry stated.
She quickly made her way to his side, and he took her hand as they navigated their way through the pile of debris where the door used to be. Tracey brought up the rear. Daphne periodically checked on her, just to make sure that she didn't collapse on them. Whatever Harry had said seemed to have strengthened her.
The three of them moved in silence through the empty castle, splitting off when they reached the Slytherin common room. She climbed the steps to her dorm quickly, with Tracey hot on her heels.
Before she was about to disappear into her dorm, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Thanks, Daphne. I won't let you down," Tracey promised, before brushing past her.
Daphne entered her dorm and packed quickly. She paid little mind to her belongings, simply throwing them into the trunk as quickly as she could. A wave of her wand shrunk it, and she tucked it into her pocket.
Upon leaving her room, Daphne didn't look back. She'd lain awake in that room for countless nights, tossing and turning as anxiety consumed her. Whilst those four walls had been one of few constants in her school life, the memories were anything but pleasant, even when she'd been the primary heiress. Her father had never been satisfied.
Was he involved in this?
She quickened her pace down the stairs, unsure of whether she wanted the answer to that particular question.
The common room was eerily still when she returned, with the only movement coming from the light filtering in through the window to the Black Lake. Green-tinted rays of sunlight danced across the dark, aged stone walls and unlit braziers.
"Harry? Tracey?"
A noise came from the entrance to the room itself, and Daphne turned, wondering if either of them had ducked out for a moment.
White-hot pain suddenly carved a path across her abdomen, causing her to double over and clutch her stomach as her vision swam.
"Silly, silly girl."
Daphne looked up, managing to make out the thin form of the last person she wanted to see right now.
"If not for these pesky school wards, you'd be dead by now," Malfoy sneered. "Bet you didn't think I'd have the nerve? Especially after what those idiots tried on their own — they leave me no choice. Oh well, your time has finally come."
She tried to speak, but her words caught in her mouth as she felt something warm trickling through her fingers, audibly dripping onto the floor.
"Y-y-you-"
Daphne was cut off by an angry shout as spells, or what she guessed the blurry stream of colours to be, began to fly towards Malfoy from the stairs to the boys' dorms. It had to be Harry. Her legs threatened to give out, and she staggered back against the wall beside the staircase, sliding down it.
"COWARD!" Harry roared, each of his spells echoing around the room like a thunderclap as Malfoy was forced to defend himself. She winced at the noise.
The raw hatred in his voice was like nothing she'd heard before.
A gasp came from the stairs to her left. Daphne felt a hand on her shoulder.
"You'll be okay, Daphne," someone whispered with a tremor in their voice. "I'm so sorry, I wish I could heal you. What do I do?"
"Tracey?"
"Yes, yes," Tracey sobbed, pressing something against her stomach and waving her wand over it. She tried to follow the tip as it moved beneath her, but even that proved challenging. Black spots seemed to obscure it from view. "I can't- I don't know how to-"
"S'okay," Daphne slurred.
She realised that she held no ill will towards the girl. It was a strange realisation, and Daphne wondered where it had come from as she shoved aside the urge to sleep.
Not yet, Daphne thought. Maybe later.
There was Harry, too. She didn't know where to begin. He probably didn't know it, but she felt that just being around him breathed life back into her. They'd spent so much time in each other's exclusive company in the past months, and it never got boring. Or maybe it was, but she was okay with liking 'boring' if it felt like this. Even with her limited knowledge, she knew about the so-called 'honeymoon phase'. It apparently hadn't ended yet.
A scream came from somewhere nearby, but it was abruptly cut off. She didn't let it distract her.
She loved him. So much so that it hurt. In a good way, of course. Was that possible? She liked to think so. Hadn't she told him as much a while ago? Perhaps. But he loved her too.
Her younger self would've been overjoyed to hear it — the lost little girl who had watched a small black cat dart around the corridors, trying to fit in amongst her peers, and striving to make her father proud was finally fulfilled. She had a real purpose.
A tightness spread across her abdomen, making her squirm. Someone's hand cupped her cheek and tilted it up. Daphne recognised the feel of it, leaning into the warmth. She hadn't realised that she'd let her head droop so much.
"Daphne? Daphne, please, I need you to stay awake," they begged.
Daphne mumbled something, but she wasn't sure what she said. Regardless, she felt a silly smile form as she blinked and saw Harry inches from her face.
He put something to her lips, a cool liquid filling her mouth. She swallowed.
"Hold on, please," Harry mumbled. "I won't let you die. I can't."
Daphne tried to hug him, but her arms failed her. Harry caught her before she could fall forward, though, so she was content to nestle her head beneath his chin as someone else brought her arms around his neck.
A loud thud came from somewhere, followed by raised voices. They sounded frustrated.
"We've got to leave. Hold on," he whispered. "Tracey, let's go!"
Her head suddenly felt like it was encased by something, almost as if she'd had a pillow stuck on her head. The thought made her want to laugh out loud.
Harry stood, and Daphne was content to hold on.
He stared at the red smear he'd left on the wall with disgust. It was oddly ironic, in a way, as Malfoy had given him a similar threat just a few months prior.
Well look at him now, Harry thought, and look at what I've become.
Another thud against the hidden entrance brought him back to the moment. There was no other way out — the Slytherin common room had one entrance and exit, and was underground, in the castle's dungeons.
Harry glanced over to Tracey, making sure that the Bubblehead charm he'd given her was still intact, before casting himself one. He could no longer feel Daphne breathing against his chest; a sure sign that hers was also working.
What lurked on the other side, Harry couldn't know, but he doubted they would be on his side. Dumbledore and the professors would've likely dismantled the hasty charms he'd placed after dealing with Malfoy within a minute.
"Get ready," Harry muttered once more, hefting Daphne up higher and adjusting his grip.
He made sure to keep Tracey's robes wrapped tightly around her midriff, to put continuous pressure on her wound.
Tracey nodded mutely, staring at the half-conscious girl in his arms with red-rimmed eyes.
Normally he would just levitate her, but he wouldn't take any risks with what he had planned. It helped that she was still fairly light.
He stood sideways, staring at the window to the Black Lake, before raising his wand. The water didn't look appealing by any means, but he'd do anything to get them out of this alive. The charm's he'd placed on the door likely wouldn't hold much longer. Closing his eyes and concentrating on channelling everything he had into his wand, he let loose a blasting curse so strong that he felt it all the way up his wand arm, nearly falling over with Daphne from the energy it had taken out of him.
At first, Harry thought that he'd failed. The only sign that he'd done anything was a small chip in the blackened glass.
Are the enchantments too strong?
Dread settled in his gut as he met his own hunched-over form on the glass. The darkened reflection stared back at him accusingly like it was taunting his failure.
He had to get Daphne out of there as quickly as he could. She'd been given the only blood-replenishing potion that he'd kept in his trunk, but they were still in a race against time. Neither Tracey nor he could heal such a wound before Malfoy's accomplices would burst in.
Kreacher would not answer his summons, and he suspected it was because he hadn't yet returned to Grimmauld Place. There was another he could try, however. Was Dobby close enough with him?
Dobby!
He heard a crack, but it was not the sort that he was expecting. No elf had appeared before him.
Fuck, he thought, until he turned back to the black glass.
It started as a tiny, barely-noticeable fissure, but quickly webbed outwards across the large window as the sound of cracking glass became audible. Small chunks began to fall out, making tinkling noises as they hit the ground. His image became more and more distorted.
The thudding against the door behind them was getting louder, and dust was beginning to fall from the ceiling at every impact.
Tracey stood next to him, looking on worriedly.
She seemed fully alert now, and Harry hoped the adrenaline would last until they could get to safety.
"Do you know what you're doing?" Tracey asked nervously, the bubble on her head bobbing.
"I hope so."
The floor-to-ceiling window shattered, and the murky waters of the Black Lake immediately cascaded inwards with a loud rushing sound. Harry conjured a shield in front of the both of them, bracing himself. It wasn't long before his wand arm began to tremble from the relentless pounding of the water, but if he let go, he knew that they'd both be swept off their feet by the water.
"Harry?! What the-"
It was ice-cold, and he gasped with Tracey as they came into contact with it. He'd been a fool to not cast a warming charm. Winter in Scotland could be notoriously unforgiving.
Harry could feel it soaking into his boots, his pants, and within seconds, his shirt. There was a crash from behind them, and he turned to witness a wall of water crash into a sea of black-robed figures as they finally broke down the entrance to the common room. The dark bricks had ended up buckling backwards as the force of the lake surged against them and into the dungeons.
Once the water was at Tracey's shoulders, he hooked his wand arm around hers and tugged her under. The sensation in all of his limbs was already long gone.
The current threatened to hurl them back, but they only had to strain for a moment. As the water lapped against the high ceiling, the flow quickly weakened. Harry did his best to pull both her and Daphne towards the breach and out into the open waters of the Black Lake, avoiding floating furniture and portraits.
Once out, he let go of Tracey and kicked upwards as best he could, praying that she would follow.
Everything was numb. His muscles ached, and the water felt as if it was about to freeze his eyeballs in place, but he persevered. He couldn't see where he was going, the dark, oppressive haze around him framing the sparse light above like a tunnel.
Harry surfaced after Tracey, bone-tired and coughing harshly, his lungs still full of dust from the ambush. He was trembling uncontrollably, fighting to keep his eyes open, but the head of wet blonde hair beneath his chin kept him going.
Fortunately, they were beside the shore of the lake, right next to the Forbidden Forest, from which he could apparate them.
Snow-laden trees stood tall around the lake, their black trunks a sharp contrast to the overcast grey sky. Harry shivered as a gust of wind seemed to pass straight through his soaked clothes, and he angled himself to keep the worst of it away from Daphne.
It was excruciatingly slow, but Tracey eventually helped him out of the water. Both of them stumbled forwards as their feet failed to find purchase in the snow for a moment, somehow managing to stay upright.
As Harry felt himself cross the Hogwarts ward line, he took Tracey's hand and used the last of his strength and focus to turn on the spot.
A splinching would've made matters even worse.
Daphne woke up abruptly, feeling a warm weight against her hip.
She gasped as she tried to sit up. Her abdomen felt as if it was on fire.
The pieces slowly slotted into place. Their ambush, Tracey, the Slytherin Common room. Malfoy. She knew she couldn't remember all of the details, but had enough of them to remember the vague course of events.
Oh, she thought. That happened.
Daphne reached under the bathrobe she'd been wrapped in at some stage, finding a slight depression on the otherwise flat plane of her stomach. It was bizarrely numb, almost like it was someone else's skin, running from just below her ribcage on the right side of her body down to her left hip.
It can't look that bad, can it?
After a while, she managed to ease herself up into a seated position, her back against the wall.
The room she was in was unfamiliar.
Its walls were dark and bare, a light layer of dust coating an empty shelf near the foot of the bed. The curtains of the window on her right looked older than Hogwarts.
"Harry?"
Daphne ran a hand through the head of black hair on her left. He looked like he'd been sitting by her bedside in a wooden chair, but his upper half had pitched forward onto the bed once he'd fallen asleep. It didn't look comfortable. There was also another stool, but it was empty.
Once she'd spoken his name, he shot up, his eyes wild. The bags beneath them concerned her. The rest of his face was unhealthily pale, contrasting the bright red line marring his cheek. His hand reached out to her, but he quickly drew it back. He seemed uncharacteristically nervous.
"Daphne?" Harry replied automatically.
He looked like he was drinking in every detail of her, and she blushed under his scrutiny. Did she look alright? How long had she been in bed? Was her hair a mess? She quickly ran a hand through it, wincing as she encountered a few small knots.
As she raised her arm higher, pain shot through her torso again. Daphne doubled over, which only made it worse. Her eyes welled up.
"Are you okay? Daphne?" Harry asked worriedly from beside her.
She shook her head, inhaling deeply through her nose and trying to stifle a groan.
Daphne felt his wand prod lightly at her abdomen, and the pain quickly receded as she settled back against the wall. Blinking the wetness away, Harry's gaze filled her view again.
"God, that hurt like shi-"
A hand smothered her mouth, and the skin around his eyes crinkled.
"I've been a bad influence, it seems," Harry commented with a smile. "If you start copying me then I'll need to wash your mouth out."
She bit one of his fingers lightly, which caused him to jerk his hand away.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Being a bad influence," Daphne stated before he could ask, hiding a grin of her own.
"I'm so sorry," he suddenly replied, his expression falling.
"It's not your fault, Harry. Thanks for helping me."
Harry was, after all, the first to always stick with her through times like these. To pick her back up when she fell.
"Still, I feel terrible for letting it happen to you," he explained, glancing down at his hands. "Does it hurt at all?"
"No," Daphne responded quietly. "It's okay, I think."
"Can I have a look?"
She adjusted the blanket so that it lay across her pelvis, before bunching the bathrobe up just below her sternum.
"You can now."
Harry had looked away as soon as she'd started to move, apparently remembering her state of attire. Even as he looked back, Daphne grinned at seeing the red flush on the back of his neck.
A glance down quickly sobered her. The skin looked angry and inflamed; much worse than it felt.
He scooted closer, and she didn't want to see his reaction.
"Does it look bad?" Daphne asked, her voice small.
"No, it looks fine," he answered, looking up at her curiously. "See for yourself."
"I've seen it. I want to know what you think."
Her hidden meaning seemed to become apparent, as he scooted his chair even closer and traced a finger along it.
"I don't think any less of you for it. You're still beautiful, Daphne, even with a few scars. Hell, I've got one on my forehead and you seem to like me anyway."
Harry placed his hand flat against her stomach, rubbing it gently, and the contact felt like the best warming charm Daphne had ever received. She tried to reply but found herself fumbling for words. No sound came out of her mouth, but he read her expression perfectly.
"It's alright, you don't need to say anything," he soothed. "You should thank Tracey, too. I would've been screwed without her."
"Screwed?" Daphne echoed quietly.
"Yeah. Totally. I was so worn out when I got here that I nearly collapsed with you," Harry explained. "I think she wants to do right by you."
"What did she do?"
The mere thought was already causing hope to blossom within her heart.
"She helped us inside, got me a Pepper-Up potion, and gave me a hand in healing you. It wasn't an easy job — we had to sift through the whole Black library to make sure that we'd done it correctly. She also took care of, ahem, that. Couldn't have done it without her."
Black library? she wondered, but cast the thought aside for now. It seemed that Daphne also had Tracey to thank for changing her out of her school clothes and keeping her clean. She felt quite fresh, all things considered.
"I'll need to thank her then. Is she okay?"
"She is," Harry answered, "but she's resting right now. If I hadn't promised her that I'd watch you, she'd still be here."
"Oh," she replied, somewhat dumbstruck. "Did you figure out what happened yesterday?"
He looked at her oddly.
"Yesterday? Daphne, you've been out cold for three days."
For the second time since she'd awoken, Daphne tried to form words, but they wouldn't come.
"Three days?" she eventually whispered in disbelief.
He nodded.
"I was worried sick," Harry admitted, "we both were, but you're just in time. It's Christmas Eve today."
It didn't at all feel like three days had passed. Did her parents know? Did Astoria know?
"What happened?" Daphne asked again. "How did you get out? Did anyone else get hurt? Where are we?"
"I'll tell you, but please take a deep breath first. It'll be okay, I promise."
She obeyed, subconsciously nodding as she tried to calm herself down.
Harry seemed to sense that she was ready, as he began to explain what had transpired.
Within the first thirty seconds, Daphne knew that Harry was leaving something out of his encounter with Malfoy, but let him continue. There would be a reason… right?
She nearly choked when Harry described their escape.
"You… flooded the common room, and swam out through the lake? The freezing, ice-cold lake? In the middle of winter?" She asked, still not believing her ears.
He nodded, smirking to himself, before turning his gaze back to the floor.
"I don't know if I want to kiss you or smack you."
"Both?" Harry asked teasingly, regaining some of his earlier cheer.
She rolled her eyes, but as she beckoned him closer, Daphne remembered her earlier thoughts.
"You never said what happened to Malfoy after he cursed me."
His face grew tight, and he stared mutely at the bedsheets covering her legs, sitting back in his chair.
"I wanted to avoid it, but I know it's wrong to not tell you," Harry started, meeting her gaze.
Daphne was taken aback by the sorrow in his voice.
"You don't have to," she assured him. "I won't think differently of you either way. You and Tracey were cornered."
Harry had said the same concerning the new scar she now bore. It was only fair.
He sighed.
"No, I should," he said, glancing at his hands, which he had since drawn back and clenched tightly in his lap.
In times like these, Daphne thought he looked far older than his fifteen-and-a-half years. The realisation made her want to hug him tightly and tell him it would all be okay. To shelter him from further hardship, and coax his worries away. To be to him what he was to her.
He always does that for me, but I'm not sure he's ever thought about letting me do that for him. Would he like that? She wondered.
When one looked at their relationship in the bigger picture, it was still quite early, but to them, it was anything but. Of the countless hours they'd spent together since that weekend in the library at the start of term, she treasured each and every one.
"Whenever you're ready," Daphne replied softly.
She did her best to keep the wave of fresh, sudden sympathy from her tone. Harry would surely hate it; he already seemed to regret whatever he'd done. She'd need to be gentle.
"I killed him," he blurted. "I lost control, and I just saw red. There wasn't much left of him. It's probably in the paper, but I couldn't bring myself to read it yet. They're probably looking to put me in Azkaban already."
"He attacked us. It's not your fault, and I don't care what the paper will say. You think I'd let some dishonest idiot at The Prophet decide my thoughts and beliefs?"
Harry laughed weakly.
"You'd be surprised, Daphne," he said, glancing at her with glistening eyes. "Sometimes… I just…"
Truthfully, Daphne was worried. She'd barely seen Harry like this a handful of times. He seemed deeply affected by it, and she couldn't blame him.
"He's not worth agonising over. That boy lost a fight that he chose to take — it was all on his terms," she explained vehemently. "And I don't care if Dumbledore himself tries to put you in Azkaban, I won't let it happen. I won't lose you now — I can't."
The words sounded oddly familiar to them, but she couldn't place where they had come from.
After seeing his stunned, and slightly panicked expression, Daphne readjusted her bathrobe and shifted over on the bed. She opened her arms to him.
He slowly acquiesced, causing the mattress to dip as he sat and quietly lay down beside her. Looking at him again, now that he was closer, his exhaustion was apparent. Daphne cursed herself for missing it earlier.
"You should've taken a page out of Tracey's book and gotten some rest," she scolded lightly, trying to tug him closer despite the dull ache in her stomach. "Come here."
Harry seemed too tired to put up much of a fight, and she eventually managed to pull him in and rest his head on her collarbone. The additional warmth felt heavenly through her bathrobe. He could've already been asleep for all she knew.
Daphne ran a hand through his hair again. It was surprisingly calming.
The sound of a kettle going off sounded from somewhere downstairs.
If Tracey busts in here and starts running her mouth about modesty, I'll put a book through that girl's skull. We are to be wed within a few months.
She doubted it, but the image amused her nonetheless.
Even if it was a surreal thought, it'd never quite scared her. Quite the opposite, rather.
Perhaps she could ask him some more about his past. The good times he'd had with Sirius.
That might distract him from his grief.