Harry grabbed a vial from the little black market stand, swishing the green liquid inside, staining its insides.

"That's arsenic, and not quite what you're looking for." Daphne said, her words with a light American accent, black eyes rising from the book she was reading. She pointed at a vial with a purple-ish liquid, thick and congealed like blood, barely moving. "Try that one."

Harry put the arsenic back in place, and grabbed the vial she had pointed to. The liquid didn't even budge.

"Sprinkle a little on your morning juice, and by noon you'll be dead." She continued, eyes focused back on the book. "By sundown, though, you'll escape. Three days later, sure, but an escape. I hope your coffin has an exit hatch."

In times of war, escaping was essential. Daphne Greengrass, a student of Slytherin, filled in the market gap by selling poisons for a more accessible price. Some people bought poison to kill someone else; some, like Harry, were just looking for a way out.

For him, it was simply that the more he fought, the more he was fought against; the more Harry tried to help people, the more people bit the hand feeding them, and he was tired. So he learned of the little black market, found himself an opening to go there (it was timed down to the second so that no customer met another; your privacy guaranteed or your money back! was her motto) and was now perusing the selection like it was just another day at the grocery.

"I'll take it, then. A sprinkle, then?" Handing her a few Galleons - which made her raise an eyebrow; it came to no surprise to Harry, since he was way overpaying her for his peace of mind -, Daphne simply nodded, accepting the coins. "Thanks for your service."

She laughed, a sardonic sound that implied she did it not because of the goodness of her heart.

"I'm getting paid, and that's all that matters. Now shoo with you, the two am meeting is going to happen soon." She made a vague wave at him, and Harry left with a slightly lighter pocket.

Harry couldn't bring himself to just sprinkle poison on his food and not be noticed by Hermione, so the next morning, Harry braved the sun and woke up early, even if he had slept a little less than three hours, tossing and turning in bed over the poison he had bought. Soon enough he'd sleep for a good while.

But maybe he had woken up too early - the doors of the Great Hall were closed, and he looked at them, astonished.

"It only opens at five, Potter." Daphne's voice said, taking her eyes off the book she was reading - a different one, Harry couldn't help but notice. He looked at her, half-hidden away in a little corner by the door, and she looked at him. "What? I just finished business. Might as well catch some breakfast before going to bed."

"No, nothing, just… Surprised you'd talk to me, that's all." He did a quick time spell, verifying that there was still some time before five. He approached her corner, and she scooted over, making space.

"I wasn't raised in a barn, unlike some people." Daphne sniffed, closing her book and sticking it inside her robe pockets, which jingled with coins. She blushed a little, which was sort of cute.

"No, you've been raised with poison makers." She shrugged. "Might I ask if you don't feel, you know, bad? You are technically killing everyone."

"Technically." Daphne pointed out, and Harry nodded. She rested her back against the wall, her black hair bunching up against her skull, eyes looking away. "I mean, I'm not forcing them to drink it, or to have it drunk. I'm just the seller. They could all buy it, and then simply not use it."

She then looked at Harry, scanning him for a moment.

"Same could be said about you, though. At sundown, everyone will see you fall." Harry couldn't retort, and stayed quiet; she took it as an opportunity to keep speaking. "I do wonder why you do this. I know, I know, a good businessman doesn't ask their customer's secrets, but you're… Well."

"Yeah, Boy Who Lived, Chosen One, all those titles." Harry passed a hand through his hair, feeling it coarse, as if the blood that coated his hands (not literally, but if felt like it. How many good people had died because of him?) had gone to his hair. "It gets heavy after a while, and I'm tired of seeing people die because of me. Tired of having to fight a war I was forcibly stuck in. I just want to be… Well, simply Harry. Not Potter, or any other thing. Just Harry."

She nodded, eyeing him up and down for a moment. Her legs went up, against her chest, and she hugged them, as if trying to bring herself some measure of comfort.

Maybe she was just like him, tired of being - well, whatever she was. Harry couldn't say he knew the Greengrass girl too well, other than the fact she sold poisons. Perhaps she, too, had a too heavy life of her own.

"Just Harry, huh?" Daphne asked, and smiled, closing her eyes. "Sounds nice to be just yourself."

"Which is why I'm doing this." Harry nodded, more to himself, grabbing the little vial on his pocket. It felt warm against his palm, a comfortable weight that told him it all would soon be over. "Maybe I'll get to see the beach. Maybe I'll become an hermit. Maybe I'll just travel the world. Who knows?"

"Who knows." She echoed, eyes still closed, and Harry let her be.

When the doors to the Great Hall opened, they were still the only souls there. Daphne ignored the social convention of eating at her own House table, and joined Harry on Gryffindor's table, grabbing some toast and butter to herself.

"Just a sprinkle, remember." Daphne said, barely raising her eyes from her task as Harry grabbed the vial. "More than that and you'll die suffocated inside that coffin."

He nodded, uncorking the little flask, and letting the smallest drop fall into his pumpkin juice. The beverage went from a healthy orange to a murky brown, and Harry raised an eyebrow at that.

Well, it wasn't going to be his problem. He took a deep breath and drank it all in one go, the taste of the pumpkin juice barely masking the poison's bitterness.

Harry drank two more cups of juice to get rid of the last dregs of brown, and when he rose his eyes, Daphne was watching him, cat-like and quiet.

"You know, Harry, if we ever meet outside this, I hope you'll be my friend." She smiled, malice showing in it as clear as the rising sun. "You are a most interesting creature."

Harry didn't feel any different. Maybe the poison was not one with apparent side effects? He didn't know much.

"Thanks?" It was as much of a question as it was not. Daphne did not say anything, simply rising up and leaving.

Harry felt a scalating pain on his stomach at around sundown, and let out a small moan. Hermione, by his side, rose an eyebrow - and Ron screamed when Harry started to cough up blood, falling freely through his mouth in a cascade.

Then, mercifully, before the pain got any worse, he passed out.

"Merlin, you're a heavy sleeper." Daphne's voice said, one nail painfully stabbing his cheek. Harry opened his eyes, and the world slowly came into focus.

He was in a sparsely decorated room, the smell of the sea thick on his ears, the noise of crashing waves a loud rumble in the background. He was laying in a soft bed, covered in a thick blanket.

"Huh?" He sat up, and Daphne, by his side in a chair that dwarfed her, cocked her head. She wasn't in school robes, shapeless and black, but in a thick woolen sweater and pants. "What?"

"Welcome to the world of living, Harry." She said, putting her hands on her lap. "It was a fun job."

"You… What?" Harry had expected to wake up in a coffin, not in a bed. "How am I here?"

"My family deals in poisons and funerals. It's really lucrative to do both!" She chirped, smiling like death wasn't the subject. Daphne handed Harry his glasses, and he put them on, confused. "So, instead of letting you fend for yourself to get out of the coffin - you had a really amazing funeral, pity you couldn't see it-, I did a little breaking and entering, some illegal spells here and there, and got you here."

"And where is, exactly, here…?"

"Oh, California."

"Cali - what?" Harry had never been so far from home. Or Hogwarts. Or, well, in any other continent: the Dursleys always left him home when they traveled. So to go to sleep in Scotland and wake up in America was… Something else, surely.

Daphne handwaved it all away, though, like it wasn't more than a small detail.

"Yeah, I figured you'd like somewhere where people don't know you." She shrugged, leaning back on her too big chair. "And this place is perfect! Sure, it's my house so of course I think it's perfect."

Okay, Harry's life was already weird, so this was the lesser concern. He was in a girl's house, that she owned, at age sixteen, in another continent. This was fine. Really. It wasn't even the weirdest thing he'd ever found out.

Shit, maybe the poison business was really lucrative.

"Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts?" He asked, instead, slowly getting out of bed, feeling like… Well, feeling like he hadn't moved in three days. Going to the window, Harry could see it was a clear morning on the coast, with people already on the beach. He opened the window, and the breeze made him feel made of light.

"Oh, about that. I got expelled." Whipping his head around so fast Harry felt the bones creaking in protest. "Yeah, Dumbledore apparently knew of my little black market, didn't do anything until you died, and expelled me even though he didn't have any proof that I had been the one to poison you."

Well.

"No one came forward?" He asked, sitting on the windowsill. The sun was warm on his back, and Harry was glad for it.

Daphne snorted, crossing her arms, giving Harry a very pointed eyeroll.

"Half of my customers are dead and the other half killed their parents. Who would come forward? Who's going to go to Dumbledore and say, 'hey, actually, because I bought a poison from the daughter of known poison makers, I can for certain say she'd never lose profit in something such as poisoning someone herself'? Come on, that's not realistic."

Neither was the fact he was in California, but hey.

"So, how did you manage to, you know, not be arrested?" There were birds doing awful noises in the beach. It was lovely. Harry had never been so thankful for birds, stretching himself carefully, trying to not fall outside. It would be a shame to fake his death just to actually die.

"By fleeing the country, of course. I did come back to grab your body, though, and a few of your things. They're in the closet." Daphne paused. "You're free to go, by the way. I can even get you some money and fake documents if you need. I may be fleeing the British law because I supposedly murdered you, but you aren't."

"I think I'll hang out around here for a while, actually. I've never been somewhere so sunny." He smiled at her, and he could see her cheeks go red. Maybe it was the sun. Maybe…?

"Really? Then may we remain good friends, Harry."

"And if I don't want to remain friends? What if I want more?"

Daphne laughed, this time without any of the malice from before. It sounded almost sincere.

"Why, then we see where we'll go from there, you cheeky bastard." Rising from her seat, Daphne grabbed her book. "I'm going to grab breakfast. You have fifteen minutes to join me before I leave."

He nodded, and got off his seat as she closed the door behind her, leaving Harry in his room. The walls were bare, and there was no decoration other than some simple platitudes he could've found in any other guest room, but if he stayed around, he might decorate it to his tastes.

Perhaps he could even convince Daphne of joining him in a shopping spree, if he was fast enough. Nodding, mostly to himself than anything else, he went to the closet, finding his Muggle clothes neatly folded, and a bag of Galleons by their side.

Well, it was a beginning. Harry could barely wait to start his life - by Daphne's side, too, if she'd allow it.