The World Inside
Grimmauld Place was quiet, the only sound coming from the muted downpour outside. Raindrops bounced off the large glass windows of the sitting room.
Daphne looked across Grimmauld Square, where the unkempt grass whipped wildly. She brought a hand to her chest, her thumb rubbing over her necklace's pendant. It was the same one Harry had gifted her for Christmas — a simple silver flower with her initials inscribed on the back. The days after were when it all went downhill for her.
Today was the day before her birthday, and she was worried, not for herself, but for Harry. He'd taken it upon himself in the past two days to go out, searching for any possible way for them to contact Daphne's mother or sister. Still being weakened and quite tired, she'd decided it was best if she used the time to rest, but wasn't having much luck getting any sleep. Harry also had a far better chance at remaining undetected than she did, but every time he left, she feared he might not return.
Though he had made the front page of the Prophet for the past two days, she, too, was being searched for, along with Tracey. They'd been labelled as 'missing,' but the Death Eaters most likely knew that they were with him.
His house elf hadn't answered his summons either, and neither of them knew what to make of that. The only explanation they could come up with was that he was old, and hadn't survived the death of his previous master.
There was a sound at the front door, and as usual, her heart leapt into her throat.
"Is that Harry?" Tracey asked quietly, coming down the stairs with her wand out.
"It should be."
They knew that it was near-impossible for someone else to make entry, but there was always the chance that someone would catch Harry and force him to spill the secret, as he was the Secret Keeper. The thought made her sick to her stomach.
"Hello?"
Harry's voice drifting through the house almost made her trip over, though she quickly regained her senses and raced down the hallway to the front door, narrowly missing the troll's leg as she crashed into him. His familiar scent soothed her, but he was cold, and his clothes were slightly damp.
He slowly pried her off him with an amused look, a piece of parchment crinkling in his left hand as he did so.
"What's that?" she asked, noticing it.
His gaze became vacant, glancing down at the parchment.
"It could be what we've been searching for."
"What do you mean?"
Harry tugged her toward the living room. He nodded to Tracey as he took a seat at the large dining table, not even removing his jacket. She sat down next to him, anxiously glancing at what looked to be a letter as he set it down. The handwriting looked familiar.
"I got this just before I apparated home," he said, looking her in the eyes. "A grey owl delivered it."
"A grey owl?.." she asked, her mind racing. The Greengrass family owl was — or had been — a grey barn owl.
The pieces of the puzzle slowly fit together as she took another hard look at the letter on the table.
"No… it can't be, can it? Who's it from? Father?"
"Your mother, I think. I got it when I was out. I'm surprised the owl found me."
Daphne froze for a moment, but reached out with a shaking hand, her eyes seeking permission to read it. Harry pushed it towards her.
Dear Harry Potter,
My attempts at reaching my daughter have failed. I am now writing to you directly to allow me to talk to her.
You have my word that I will not interfere with her life unless she wills it. I only wish for her to hear me.
Lise Greengrass.
She felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her mother seemed to be okay. That probably meant her sister was okay, too. Was her father there? She hoped not, and doubted it, seeing as he would've never let her mother send a letter like this.
"Can I? Do you have any floo powder?" Daphne asked, her eyes darting to the hallway.
"Daphne, we need to think about this first."
"Why? I want to see that she's okay. I can just go stick my head through first and call."
She rose and made to move past Harry, but he gripped her arm lightly.
"Please wait a moment. What if it's a trap? They know you're with me. We don't know if the Ministry or Voldemort-"
"Harry, please, I need to see her," she said, trying to worm out of his grip.
"Not yet. I know you want to see her but-"
"There is no but! I need to know that she's okay. Why else would she send this letter?"
"So you agree that it's unusual?" he asked, frowning at her.
Daphne was getting increasingly frustrated with him.
"This whole situation is unusual!" she snapped, wrenching her arm back. "Don't put your hands on me!"
He looked like he'd been slapped, and took a step back.
"It wasn't like that," Harry replied quietly. "I would never."
"So don't!" she responded, crossing her arms and glaring at him.
"Daphne, I know that you want to make sure that she's fine, but you can't put yourself in danger too. Please don't," he pleaded.
"What's going on?" Tracey asked, interrupting her retort.
It seemed that she'd raised her voice enough for her to come down the stairs and poke her head in.
"Harry got a letter from Mother and won't let me floo her," Daphne replied hotly, grinding her teeth.
Containing her frustration was a struggle, and she felt that she was about to blow if Harry tried anything else.
"Maybe you should think about it first, or perhaps write a letter? It would be risky to floo, assuming that all three of us are probably wanted by the Ministry."
"Harry might be, but I'm not! Don't you dare try and stop me!" Daphne shouted, pushing past Harry, who seemed to shrink back. His face was blank, but she didn't care what he thought. She wasn't even thinking about the words that were coming out of her mouth.
Anger, desperation and fatigue were all threatening to overwhelm her. She needed to get out of the room. Out of here. The dark walls seemed to press in on her after two days of non-stop nerves, and she desperately wanted to see her mother.
Footsteps echoed behind her as she weaved her way through the dark hallways, which only made her speed up.
There was a dusty bag on top of the mantle, which fortunately had a handful of floo powder. Daphne grabbed it and threw it all into the fireplace, immediately falling to her knees and sticking her head through.
"Greengrass Manor!"
Nothing happened, and she continued to stare at the charred brick at the back of the fireplace.
"Greengrass Manor! Greengrass Manor! Gre-!"
She was jerked backwards and let out a cry at seeing the green flames extinguish themselves, landing heavily on her rear. To her surprise, Tracey stood above her.
"Why would you do that?" Daphne asked, her shock audible. She cringed at the way her voice broke.
"I'd like to know the same," her friend replied, looking unusually serious.
"What if they're captured? What if Father turned them in, or they all got attacked because they were looking for me? What if they're de…"
The lump in her throat seemed to grow larger, leaving her unable to finish the sentence. Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay. Her mind was racing, but her white-hot anger had faded, being replaced by a feeling of helplessness.
"You need to calm down," Tracey said, lowering her wand. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but you need to rest and think about this. We're not your enemies, I promise."
Her legs felt too heavy to support her, so Daphne didn't even try to stand up. She just nodded.
"That was very risky, even just poking your head in. What if a Death Eater pulled you through?"
She swallowed hard and tried to speak again, but couldn't form a response. It had been an absurdly stupid thing to do in hindsight.
"I'm sorry," Daphne finally croaked.
"I damn hope you are," Tracey retorted. Her voice was unnaturally cold.
She wanted comfort, but she'd just blown up on the one person who had always offered her that without question. There had been no thought, only reacting to the maelstrom of emotions inside of her. The realisation broke her heart. She'd not meant anything she'd said to anyone, especially not…
"Hello? Daphne?"
Daphne ignored Tracey's voice as she dropped her head into her hands, realising just how horrid she'd been. She could barely even remember what she'd said to Harry, but she doubted it was good. Would he, too, leave her?
"Daphne?"
His voice cut through the ringing in her ears, and she realised that she was trembling quite violently. She looked up from her lap, seeing him leaning against the doorframe. Uncertainty was written across his face, and she hated how he seemed almost hesitant to come in.
She went to reach out for him, but let her arms drop as she realised what she'd told him.
"Please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it, I-I didn't-don't know…" Daphne stuttered.
He approached her slowly, like she was some sort of wild animal that could lash out at any moment. She knew that it was her fault, and she hated herself for it.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked, kneeling in front of her.
"I don't think so," she mumbled, gazing back at him. A familiar pressure started to build behind her eyes again, and her throat was raw and felt like it was closing.
All it took was for his expression to soften as he leaned in, and she fell against him, luxuriating in the familiar sense of security that his embrace provided. He was warmer now, and her tears began to soak into his sweater as everything else overwhelmed her.
"I'm so sorry, I-I'm just so overwhelmed, and I-" she began, stumbling over her words.
"It's okay," Harry interrupted. "Things aren't always perfect, or easy."
Morning light filtered in through a gap in the curtains, bathing the dark walls of the bedroom in a warm, golden glow.
Harry stared at the light as it shifted down the wall, the sun inching its way higher in the sky. It felt rare to see the sun these days, if only for a moment. The past weeks had been grey and gloomy, which had likely done little for their overall morale. He knew it was tough for Daphne to be stuck here while she recovered, but they'd already given her all the potions she needed. Oddly, Harry found himself already trusting Tracey to take care of Daphne, and he wondered how she'd won him over so quickly after she'd confessed. Her actions were authentic, and her care for her friend was undeniably sincere.
All of that seemed to have taken a toll on Daphne, though, and he felt guilty for not having anticipated it. He couldn't blame her for blowing up like she had. Even Sirius had commented on how oppressive Grimmauld Place felt when he was in hiding. Though they'd fixed it up together from its original state, its rooms seemed to retain some of the darkness that had been so characteristic of the ancient Black Family.
She'd apologised profusely all night, but he'd managed to convince her that there was nothing to be sorry for. The one thing that he was grateful for was that he'd been there to catch her when she'd fallen, as he'd promised himself. Daphne had done the same for him at the start.
Her head rested on his shoulder, endless lengths of blonde hair spilling out over the white sheets. After yesterday, he couldn't deny her request to stay with him, especially after the lengths she'd gone to.
"I swear on my life, Harry, I'll break every bed in this godforsaken place and sleep at your door. I'll probably still get a better rest. I hate that dreadful room, with that horrid vanity."
Harry cracked a grin at the memory.
They had to figure out a safe way to contact her mother. Daphne deserved a chance with her, but they first had to figure out what her father was doing, and whether her mother was sincere.
He felt more than heard her breathing change as she woke, but the only movement she made was nestling in closer to him, an arm sliding across his chest.
"I thought you had your own side of the bed, birthday girl."
She jerked a bit at realising that he was awake.
"It was too cold," she said. Harry rolled his eyes.
Daphne must've seen it because she squeezed him tightly. He gasped as her ice-cold fingers made contact with his bare skin.
"O-okay, yes, you're cold, I get it," he wheezed.
"Show some empathy then, hmm? I am the 'birthday girl' after all."
Harry tensed as she slid her hand back across his chest, taking hers in his own to avoid any further shocks. He glanced down and saw her smiling up at him, but it dimmed as they locked eyes.
"I'm sorry for yesterday. That was ridiculous," she muttered, glancing down.
"I don't blame you. It would suck to be locked in here," he responded. "That's exactly what we won't be doing today."
The door suddenly swung open, and Harry was torn between tugging the sheet up and reaching for his wand on the bedside table. Fortunately, he didn't have to decide, as Tracey's moan of disappointment came straight after.
"I thought I'd catch you two getting up to something steamy this morning, but no, you just have to be sickeningly sweet," she grumbled. "Oh, happy birthday, by the way."
Daphne twisted to stare at her friend.
"Tracey, if you want to keep your fingers, you'll shut that door and leave us," she warned.
The other girl gave a dramatic sigh and obliged, but not before yelling "Why don't you try being the third wheel for once, Daph!" from the other side.
"Is she always like that?" Harry asked.
"Of course," Daphne responded, reaching up to tousle his hair for a reason only known to her. "As annoying as it can be, it's good to see her back to how she used to be. I haven't seen her like that since last year, and it makes me think that she'll be alright."
"She's a free spirit," he agreed.
"That she is, and it's always impressed me. Even after what her father nearly made her do. I hope she tells us if she isn't as okay as she seems."
"We make for an odd group, don't we?"
Daphne nodded against him.
"But would you have it any other way?"
Harry contemplated using an easy answer, but he decided against it.
"Yes, I'd have her be less nosey."
"True," she replied with a small grin, revealing a dimple.
They eventually got up and headed downstairs into the living room and over to the smaller coffee table, upon which sat their gifts for Daphne. Tracey lounged on the couch.
"Finally," she muttered. "You two sure do like to take your time."
"It's my birthday, you're not allowed to be rude today," Daphne retorted.
Tracey huffed, but she looked more excited than anything else.
Harry used Tracey's distraction to levitate a birthday cake onto the table, and Daphne gasped when she saw it.
"You didn't have to," she managed after a moment of silence.
He shook his head, and she gave him a look that sent a shiver down his spine. In a good way, of course.
"You can't eat him as well, Daphne. You won't have space for the cake," Tracey stated mischievously, catching Harry's eye.
Daphne wrinkled her nose at her friend, dragging Harry over to sit beside her on the couch.
She took her time opening the small pile of presents, finding a sweater from Tracey, a coat from him, and amongst various other small trinkets that Harry had picked out across London in the past few days, a small card.
"What's this, Harry?" she questioned, turning it over.
He fidgeted, suddenly anxious if he'd made the right decision. Would she like it?
"Do you remember when I first took you out into London? That morning?" Harry asked tentatively.
"The place by the river?" Daphne responded, looking at him curiously.
He nodded.
"It's what lets you do 'that thing I did'," he quoted with a fond grin.
"OH! The one that lets you pay? But why…." she trailed off, looking at the back closely. "Daphne Lise Potter?"
"Yeah… I thought it would be a good way for us to be on the same level and to eventually start our life together. I'll teach you how to use it of course — it works in any country, so we don't need to stay here if things get worse, but they are already pretty bad, I'm sorry, I didn't want to feel like I was buying you or something, I thought it would be nice since we need to be married soon, and most of your clothes are probably back at your parents' place anyway so please don't get the wrong idea…"
Harry was knocked back on the couch, with her hands in his hair, her hair hanging around his face, her eyes directly above his own, and her-
"Eww, can you guys smooch somewhere else? Get a room! Wait, you have one!"
Daphne leaned off him, and Harry was taken aback by just how irate she looked.
"Tracey, you're already going to be losing two fingers at this rate. Do you want me to remove a third? Your tongue, perhaps?"
"You wouldn't," Tracey declared, but a glance through the blonde tresses obscuring his vision revealed that she looked surprisingly intimidated. "You can't remove my tongue, that's like, at least five fingers worth!"
"Do you want to test that theory?" Daphne asked from above him, her tone unreadable.
"Not particularly," the other girl admitted.
"Coward," Harry piped up. It was difficult to contain his amusement, and he didn't last very long.
Nor did the others.