Daphne in the Spring
By the time spring came, she had lost it all.
Theo had moved on; he had been with a girl for seven years now.
Pansy didn’t call her for parties anymore; Daphne could not remember the last time she was in a room full of acquaintences being sparkling and irreverent.
Tracy had been raped during the war and was raising the child by herself; alone in the muggle world.
Millie was busy being successful and only reached out when she wanted to monologue; Daphne was sure Millie would not be able to say where Daphne worked.
And work. Sigh. Work.
Daphne slogged all day amid the goblins, not a friendly face in sight; animosity simmering just beneath the surface.
Dean, also at the bank, had frozen her out two years ago when he found her love too clingy. “You’re a puppy,” he had said.
Daphne continued working with the goblins; the only source of income for her Death Eater parents hidden in the Greengrass’ secret room.
By the time the war and its aftermath were over, Daphne—looks faded, luminosity blunted—had lost it all.
She stopped going near windows, scared she would fall out of them.
**
Daphne in the Summer
She had tried painting. Muggle therapists had recommended these as an outlet for emotions. Daphne looked at the juvenile outlines and crooked smiles in her drawing and felt contempt rise within her. She should have just dated Theo when he asked. She would be married with children now and too busy to be bored or think about the lack of meaning in her life.
She still avoided windows, but now, she avoided balconies too.
She could try knitting next. Muggle therapists got orgasmic when talking about the therapeutic power of knitting.
**
Daphne in the Autumn
A recent Hogwarts graduate joined the bank, fresh-faced, fresh-eyed and eager.
Daphne had been so embarrassed when Heather had asked her what she did for fun that she had started avoiding Heather and her pity completely. Heather took Dean out for drinks every Friday night now.
Daphne just wanted her hug. And someone to kiss her forehead with fondness.
What was her purpose on this Earth? To be loved was out of her hands. To find meaning in her work was an impossibility. To have a few laughs required friends who hung around, which seemed hard to accomplish. She had already tried to step out into the muggle work and make life anew, and had failed; the culture too unfamiliar and Tracy’s conversation singularly focused on her troubles and her anger. To be a worker, so her parents had food to eat, was the only think left. They were ungrateful and spiteful but they were not dead. And they took away her freedom in making that choice for herself.
**
Daphne in the Winter
A great man once said, “Of course it is happening inside your head, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”
Daphne discovered fanfiction. She wrote stories that no one read; she hadn’t read the source material. She commented on no one’s work, had no mutuals, but every day she could fantasize a new scenario of how she would meet Harry Potter—he would walk into Gringotts and she would be assigned his account; they would both be in Polyjuice and meet in a muggle bar--and he would fall in love with her. She especially focussed on stories about the laughs she would have at the Leaky Cauldron, hanging out with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Seamus.
She could survive another day.