Chapter Sixteen: Trusting Tracey

The few days between Daphne's return to Greengrass Manor and Christmas Day were frosty to say the least, and not because of the weather. Despite her mother's confession, Daphne was openly ignoring her. It might have been done with the best of intentions, but there was no shifting the years of hatred, anger and abandonment that had swirled around inside Daphne since she was a little girl. Especially when that same woman would think of Hermione Granger as a mudblood. She would likely tell Daphne that Tracey was just as bad for just having a muggle for a dad.

Astoria, stuck between both her mother and Daphne once more, had begun doing the unthinkable and actually spending time with Daphne between meals and her silent spats with their mother. It was nice, not being alone in the echoing mansion. It wasn't just the mansion's residents who were trying to keep Daphne company, she had recieved letters from both Tracey and Harry.

A barn owl, which she recognised as one of the school owls, was the first to arrive. Daphne, who had been reading up on wordless magic, leapt from her bed and tore the letter open excitedly. It was exactly what she had expected.

Daph,

Are you alright? Snape said you were in the Hospital Wing, I tried to visit but Pomfrey wouldn't let me come in. Let me know when you get this, I want to make sure you're okay. She said you'd be fine, so I'm guessing if you're reading this then you're good. Parkinson said she thought you'd got spattergroit, so don't be surprised if people avoid you when you get back.

Have you heard off Harry and Ron and the others, they were sent home? Apparently Ron's dad's been attacked! I'm sending him a letter too, but I wondered if you'd heard off Harry. I think he's okay, I've checked the Prophet and there's nothing in there. Please let me know as soon as you can if you have, I don't like the idea of Ron going through that by himself. I know he's got his family but still, it's good to have friends, right?

Let me know how everything's going, mum's said that if you're okay you're welcome over the Christmas holidays. I'll let you know an address and stuff, just tell me a day that's best — we're not really doing much other than having Auntie Imelda over on Boxing Day.

Love,

Tracey

Hedwig wasn't fair behind the school barn owl and arrived just as Daphne was informing Tracey that Ron's dad was okay, that she too was fine (that it wasn't Spattergroit) and that she'd explain everything when they saw each other, which could be any day because she was desperate to get out of Greengrass Manor. Remembering Harry's warning about post, she said nothing about exactly how she knew Ron's dad was fine, nor where Harry had disappeared to. They were details she would let Tracey know when they inevitably saw each other.

Harry's letter was much shorter, clearly fearing Hedwig being intercepted, his note was just a few lines.

Daph,

Things are all good here. Mr Weasley is getting better, they've figured out what's wrong with him and have started to work on it. Snuffles sends his best, can't wait to see you at the tryouts. Hope you have a good Christmas and your mum's not too mental.

Love,

Harry

Unlike Tracey's note, Daphne read and re-read Harry's more than a few times. Her eyes were drawn every time to one particular word that had sparked an unusual and confusing feeling in her chest when she'd read it. She took a lot longer writing her reply to him, partially because she wanted to make sure she stuck to the strict rules he was abiding and because, for some reason, everything she wrote just didn't feel right. By the twelfth bit of parchment she was starting to wonder what the hell was wrong with her, but was incredibly grateful that Melissa Greengrass and Astoria did not enter the room.

The days alone gave her plenty of time to catch up on the homework she had neglected for the DA and to buy presents for Tracey, Ron, Hermione and Harry. She was not used to buying presents and so went to great effort to ensure that she got the best she could for each of them, after all, this was the first time that she could properly thank them for the events of the last few months.

Ron was easy, the way to his heart was, predictably, food and so she settled on a huge basket of Honeydukes' finest chocolate she'd seen in the bag of Witch Weekly. For Tracey, she found a set of incredibly expensive but excellent flying gloves, perfect grip and fingerless so that she could easily wrap her fingers around the Snitch as it darted towards freedom. She had considered sending money for a replacement broom, but as she repeatedly told Harry and Ron, Tracey was not one for charity.

It took a while longer to find something for Hermione. She eventually settled on several wizarding novels, figuring that the muggleborn witch would not have read much from the vast array of wizarding literature. They included The Muggle and The Witch (which was a shameless, soppy and annoyingly heart-warming love story), Bogrod's Revolution, Witchcraft during Witch Trials, and her personal favourite This is Where the Dragons Went.

For Harry she knew she had gone overboard. It was impossible to stop herself, having seen the only family he had left and knowing that the Dursleys' would not buy him anything. She picked out a leather wand holster from Defensive Magic Monthly, a proper lesson planning notebook so that he could keep all this thoughts on the DA in one place, a joke present in the form of A Beginner's Guide to Arithmancy (due to the fact that no matter how much she tried to explain he would never understand it) and an IOU which promised him a trip to a Quidditch match of his choice.

Astoria, upon seeing the various presents her sister was sending out, inquired if she would be getting such high quality presents before asking how the hell Daphne was affording all this. Daphne didn't answer directly, simply referring to savings. The truth was that she had been saving money from her trust fund, which Melissa Greengrass refilled regularly enough, but under the agreement that it was used for things that would help her studies. However, since their argument, Daphne was willing to bet anything that she would be able to push her mother further than ever. Melissa Greengrass, on the rare occasions she was threatened, would rather buy people's affection than earn it.

Two days before Christmas, Daphne could be found getting ready to leave Greengrass Manor for the first time in almost a week.

"Where are you off to?" Astoria asked, interestedly as she flicked through an old copy of Witch Weekly and sipped her pumpkin juice. "And in muggle clothes? You feeling alright?"

"I'm going to go see, Trace," Daphne explained as she pulled on trainers. The dining room was as high ceilinged as every other room in the house, and Daphne felt the eyes of various famous family members judging her from the walls. The fireplace, which she would use to travel to Tracey's, was cracking merrily more for effect than anything else. The wards around the house stopped it from ever being cold.

"Ah venturing off into the muggle world, very cool." Astoria noted, as she pulled down a corner on one of the pages and carried on flicking through. "Mum's gonna go nuts when she finds out."

"Doubt it," Daphne shrugged, "besides, who's going to tell her?"

"Don't look at me," Astoria had no idea what had gone on between her sister and her mother and both Daphne and Astoria knew that was the best way to keep things. As much as Daphne wanted to explain it to her sister, it was not her story to tell. Their mother had been right about one thing, Astoria had missed much of what had happened to their father. It wasn't on Daphne to explain what had happened when she was beginning to doubt if she even knew herself.

"Cheers,"

"Is this the part where you say I'm the best sister ever and you'd be lost without me?"

"No."

"Shame, I was hoping this would be a bonding moment," Astoria teased and grinned at Daphne from over the pages of her magazine. "Your t-shirt's tucked in."

"Yeah," Daphne nodded, looking down at her only muggle t-shirt which held the moniker 'Jurassic Park' in a red circle with some form of skeleton poking out. She assumed it was a dragon's head. "Is that wrong?"

"If you want to look like a complete loser, no it's fine."

"Why are muggle clothes so confusing?" Daphne huffed, yanking her t-shirt out of the irritatingly baggy jeans that were held up by a thick belt and incredibly faded. Apparently, she had been informed by her father's sister last Christmas, they were fashionable.

"Do you think they'd find robes easy?" Astoria pointed out. "I don't find robes easy, and I have to wear them all the time. Mind you, did you see Jane Sutton's summer look, it was very muggle."

"You know I didn't," Daphne loathed fashion, having owned the same few outfits since her last growth spurt that was irritatingly years ago.

"Things are changing," Astoria said, happily. "It's cool, I like it. It's about time we started to get a different look, I swear we keep seeing the same styles. Bigger collars here, pleating there, it's all so… dull."

"Like this conversation," Daphne joked, earning herself a mock glare from her sister.

"You can go off people, you know that?"

"And yet you insist on talking to me," Daphne shot back, "right, I'm off. See you in a few hours, Tori."

"Have fun," Astoria grinned, "say hi to Tracey for me."

"Will do," Daphne gave her sister a quick wave, snatching some floo from the jar above the roaring fire, and casting it into the flames which turned a familiar emerald green. Stepping into their warmth she loudly said Tracey's address before vanishing from Greengrass Manor. Grates flooded past her eyes, windows to the lives of stranger's flied by and she was even sure she saw the inside of a very pink office, before the world stopped whizzing by and she stepped out into the living room of the Davis household.

Compared to the dining room she had just left, this room was the size of a bowtruckle. A huge leather sofa sat before her, in the shape of a capital 'L'. Photos of Tracey and two people Daphne assumed were her parents lined the walls, all of them completely still. If she thought that was weird, the giant box in one corner looked alarmingly heavy. Huge and black the entire thing looked to be at least a foot deep and even wider. It squatted on a glass table that looked to have recently been cleaned within an inch of its life.

Cream carpet, now marred with flecks of soot and ash, was thick and much nicer to walk on than the hard floors of the manor. The wall behind the strange box was papers with purple lines while the rest of the walls were cream, she remembered Tracey calling it a 'feature wall'.

"Daph!" The shout came from the hall and before she knew it Tracey had flung herself at her. Laughing and trying not to over balance, Daphne happily hugged her friend in return. "It's so good to see you, are you alright? I know you said you were but I just want to check. You scared the crap out of me, honestly. It was weird you not being there. Parkinson was a cow and that Bullstrode, pair of them are a nasty piece of work."

"I'm fine, Trace, don't worry." Daphne assured her, desperately trying to get a word in edgeways as they broke apart. Tracey's dark eyes looked her up and down, as if making sure and when she was satisfied she spoke again, this time with a lot less cheeriness.

"Okay, good, because you can explain what the hell you were thinking ditching me and Ron like that. I know what you're up to."

"I wasn't up to anything," Daphne lied, "much. C'mon, be fair, Trace. You were having a great time. I just left you to it."

"With Harry, it was so obvious. I wanted to die."

"I'm sorry for making you spend time with a boy you clearly like," Daphne said, sarcastically and Tracey glared before shushing her.

"Keep it down, alright? Mum doesn't know and dad'd be the worst."

"So you do like him," Daphne grinned, triumphantly.

"Alright, fine, yes, now will you shut up?" At that exact moment the front door opened. "That's them, they're dying to meet you. Nice top by the way, didn't know you liked dinosaurs?"

"Is that what it is?" Daphne asked, comprehension dawning on her as she looked down at the skull. She'd forgotten they were even a thing. It was one of the famous one. A T-thingy. Those muggle studies lessons when she'd been a kid really hadn't been wasted, she thought, as Tracey's parents' muffled conversation brought them to the door of the living room.

"Ah, you must be Daphne," said Tracey's mother, who looked the spitting image of her daughter, complete with auburn hair and kind face. She was carrying several shopping bags and beamed at Daphne. From behind her a much larger man with thinning hair, square glasses and a dark tattoo on his arm, waved as she carried the various bags he was holding into another room.

"Hi," Daphne said, a little stupidly, before adding hurriedly. "It's nice to meet you, you've got a lovely house. It's really… cool."

"A bit smaller than you're used to I bet," Tracey's mother smiled, "I've been to Greengrass Manor before, a long time ago. But we like it here, isn't that right Jace?"

"Yes?" Tracey's father, Jason, asked from the kitchen, seemingly knowing better than to contradict his wife without evidence.

"I swear the more time he spends under cars the less he can hear," Tracey's mother sighed, "My name's Clara, Daphne. Now, why don't you girls get comfy, and I'll get us a cup of tea? Still three sugars, Trace?" Tracey did her best not to look at her mother but nodded, "and Daphne, how many would you like? And milk?"

"Just the sugar, and yeah milk, please."

"Great, I'll be right back," and with that Clara Davis left the living room, her bags in hand and a smile on her kind face.

"Mum doesn't like using magic at home," Tracey explained, as she and Daphne collapsed onto what were incredibly comfortable sofas. Daphne wondered idly if Clara had enchanted them with cushioning charms. "Says she doesn't want dad to feel weird about it. I mean, they spent four years dating before they got married and you know what the Statute of Secrecy's like."

"So she didn't tell him for all that time?" Daphne couldn't imagine hiding what she was from the person she loved for that long, just to keep them safe. How had they even got through it? The Statute was incredibly clear, you only told muggles when they were family. She'd have had to have married him to tell him. What a honeymoon…

"Nope, crazy right? Dad was over the moon when I got into Hogwarts though. I think he likes it all more than mum gives him credit for, it was his idea to get me a broom." Her face went tight at the mention of her broom, as if she'd forgotten all about it.

"Are they taking you to the trials?" Daphne asked, in an attempt to skip past the sensitive subject as best she could.

"Yeah, well, mum is. Dad couldn't get it off work, you're still coming right? Ron said he would, pretty sure Harry is too though he's not too sure."

He'd have to get permission. "Yeah, I should be able to, as long as mum doesn't get too upset about today. I didn't tell her I was coming, you see. Not she'll even notice."

"Still not getting on?"

"I'll tell you later," Daphne said, her eyes flicking to the door where she knew Clara and Jason Davis would be returning through. "It's not great, let's put it that way."

"Sorry, Daph."

"It's fine," Daphne said, quickly. She did not want to dwell too much on Melissa Greengrass and her vague attempts at motherhood. They were interrupted by Clara returning with two mugs of tea and Jason, his stubbled face practically beaming, taking up a spot on the only free sofa.

"So, Daphne," Clara said, seemingly as happy as her husband. "Tell us all about yourself."

"There's not much to tell really," Daphne said, trying to think of the best way to explain her life without either appearing ungrateful or like a sob story. There was an excited gleam in both of Tracey's parents' eyes that told Daphne neither of them had had a chance to meet Tracey's friends from school. What had Tracey told them? "I'm in Slytherin, same as Trace, but we didn't really start talking 'til this year. I mean, you know where I live, so there's that. And I'd like to be a Curse Breaker or an Unspeakable one day, just something that matters."

"Very admirable," Clara commented, more knowingly than Daphne knew she would. But why wouldn't she? She was a pure-blood too and, judging by where they were, one who didn't much like it. "I know a lot of witches your age just want to get married and spend their husband's galleons."

"Wish I had a husband like that," Jason said, teasingly.

"Ignore him," Clara said to Daphne, whilst picking up the newspaper her husband had discarded on the sofa earlier that day and hitting him with it. "He likes to think he's funny."

"I am funny, everyone says so." Jason assured Daphne with a cheeky smile.

"Saying you're funny kind of defeats the point," Clara noted, "isn't it up to everyone else?"

"Yeah, and they say I'm funny."

"And where are they?" Jason floundered, causing his wife to smirk. "Exactly."

Tracey rolled her eyes at Daphne, clearly used to her parents' antics, but Daphne couldn't help but smile. She wondered, if things were different, would this be the family she had? They continued to quiz Daphne for a few more minutes, before Tracey made an excuse about wanting to show Daphne her room and they left the living room to head upstairs.

"Sorry about them," Tracey muttered quietly as they climbed the stairs, whose wall was full of photos just like the living room. "They're not used to seeing Hogwarts people. To be honest, I think you're the first witch mum has seen in two years."

"It's fine, they're cool." Daphne assured her, although unable to wonder why Clara had not seen another witch for so long, and suspecting that the answer was sitting with her downstairs.

"So," Tracey began as she opened the first door on their left as they reached the small landing at the top of the stairs. "This is my room. Sorry, it's kind of a mess."

"You remember I share a dorm room with you," Daphne pointed out as she followed Tracey into the room. It wasn't as bad as Tracey probably thought it was. Various pairs of trainers were thrown in a heap at one end of the room, a smaller version of the large box from downstairs sat on a table at the far end of her bed, another smaller grey box sat beneath it. What was the muggle obsession with boxes?

A large wardrobe with a long mirror and a set of drawers practically filled one wall. Beneath the only window in the room was a pinewood desk. Tracey's school books were strewn over it, pens and pits of paper were littered beneath them while a single quill sat in an inkwell. Once again there were photos stuck to the wall, but these were smaller and framed with a white border. The girl in them was much younger and a lot happier than Tracey had really seemed to Daphne at Hogwarts.

Every surface breathed Tracey's chaotic, bubbly and optimistic personality, unlike Daphne's room which looked more like a fancy mausoleum than a bedroom.

"Nice," Daphne grinned, taking a seat on the revolving fabric chair Tracey had stationed at her desk. "I was expecting more clothes everywhere."

Tracey looked guiltily at the wardrobe. "Shoved them in there?" Daphne asked, knowing the answer. "I'm honoured."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want you to think I was a complete slob." Tracey shrugged, throwing herself onto the bed. "I was going to clean up more but mum needed a hand at the shops yesterday and I kind of forgot."

"It's fine, it's cool, I like it." Tracey grinned, propping herself up on her elbow.

"Thanks, it's not much, but it's home. Now, are you going to tell me what really happened or do I have to sit and wait? Or do you really think I believe Pomfrey wouldn't let me see you."

"School owl, huh?"

"If Umbridge isn't reading our mail then I'm the queen of Sheeba," Tracey said, "I had to make it look good just in case she went sniffing around. You should've seen her, Daph. She went properly weird when Parkinson said you were in the Hospital Wing, and Harry disappearing the same day, well, it didn't look brilliant."

"He didn't do anything," Daphne snapped, unable to stop herself as the memory of Umbridge's little interrogation washed over her. "Sorry. Long story."

"I've got time."

And so Daphne set about explaining what had happened over the course of the last week. She left out a few details, the fact that Harry had been the snake, that they had gone to Sirius Black's house — she instead said that she and Harry had gone back to the Headquarters of the Order, which wasn't strictly speaking a lie.

"Umbridge said that," Tracey spat, when Daphne finished telling her about Umbridge's visit and the argument she and her mother had had afterwards. "And your mum just let her?"

"Apparently that's what we've got to do to keep the Ministry on side," Daphne said, sadly.

"There's lying to protect yourself and then there's… that. I mean, I've said some stuff I didn't believe when it didn't really matter, but I'd never… I'm so sorry, Daph. It must've been awful."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't great."

"So is that why you're not really talking?"

"That," Daphne nodded, "and something else she said."

She had decided, long before arriving at the Davis household, that it was about time she told Tracey about her dad. There was only so long she could keep living the lie, especially if Clara Davis had been to Greengrass Manor questions about her dad would come up eventually.

"Apparently, she's been protecting me and Tori since, erm, my dad killed himself." She swallowed hard, refusing to look at Tracey, before continuing. "I didn't tell you because I liked it, I could pretend it hadn't happened, that he was still alive. I'm sorry, I should've trusted you."

She looked up, expecting more of a reaction, perhaps surprise, at least shock, but Tracey just nodded. Daphne frowned, confused but then pieces slowly slotted themselves together like a jigsaw being created in her mind. A sick knot clenched in her stomach. After all, she wasn't Tracey's first friend at Hogwarts.

"I've known since third year," Tracey said, quietly. "Draco mentioned it a few times, I knew you'd tell me eventually."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Daphne asked, her voice shaking. She could just imagine what dear, darling Draco would be spouting about her father. The mockery at the stupid man for killing himself, the idiot who didn't even believe in Voldemort, no doubt Lucius Malfoy had told him all about it. Nausea washed over her, she wanted to be sick. She could hear their laughter now and wondered if Tracey had laughed along with them.

"Because I knew what you were doing, because I know sometimes it's better to pretend to be one thing when you feel another. Look, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here. And for the record, your mum's messed up if she thinks treating you like crap is what you needed to become a great witch. Don't get me wrong, you're pretty amazing, but I don't think that's anything to do with her."

"And what did Malfoy say?"

"You… you don't want to know."

"I bet he got a right kick off it." Daphne muttered, ignoring Tracey's protstations. "Tell me, Trace. Now. Tell me what he said."

After a moment's hesitation, Tracey nodded.

"It was... it was horrible. Nasty. He, erm, said stuff like 'no wonder she keeps to herself, I'd be ashamed if I was her', said that he'd, er, well, kind of, shamed your family. I'm sorry."

"For what he said, or for the fact you laughed along?"

It wasn't a question she wanted to ask, and it brought Daphne no pleasure to see the pain flicker across Tracey's eyes, but she had to ask it. There were some things she could not forgive, even from Tracey.

"No, I never did, Daph. Not once. I promise."

"So they all know?" It was something she knew that must've known. Pure-bloods, more than anyone, liked to gossip. But she had just ignored it, hoped that it wouldn't have been spoken about, that people would forget. The worst thing that had happened to her her entire life would be better forgotten than a joke.

"Yeah."

"Right," Daphne signed, just another dream shattered. This, she knew, would've been how Harry felt. The rest of the world thinking they knew how his parents died, telling him their stories, whispering behind his back. What a way to live.

"I don't think Ron and Hermione do," Tracey said, quickly. "I'm guessing you told Harry?"

"About a month or so ago, Sirius told him. I didn't have a choice."

"Well," Tracey said, swinging her legs off her bed so that she could lean close to Daphne and rest a hand on her leg. "We'll always be here. Bollocks to Draco, isn't that what we've always said?"

"I don't think I've ever said 'bollocks to Draco.'" Daphne laughed, rolling her eyes.

"But you stood up to him for me when he smashed my broom to bits, it was kind of implicit." Daphne shook her head, but couldn't help but smile at Tracey. "See, bollocks to Draco."

"Okay now it's just getting weird."

"You laughed, not me." Tracey grinned, "so we're good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

"Great, because I've got something to show you." Tracey threw herself down the bed and grabbed a small… thing from by the box with a green circle. She threw it to Daphne who caught it with a mixture of confusion and surprise. "It's called a controller, and this is an PS1, a PlayStation. Dad got it me a couple of Christmases ago. It's cool, right?"

"It's a box," Daphne said, nonplussed, but welcoming the distraction.

"It's not just a box, hang on, I'll show you." She leant forward, pressing a small button on what Daphne assumed was a TV. There was a faint pop and hiss and then the screen came to life with a P and the word 'PlayStation' appearing on screen.

"It's a games console," Tracey grinned, "you can play games. All sorts. Racing, shooters, fighting games."

"Shooters?"

"Yeah, you shoot people and aliens and stuff with guns."

"And that's fun?" Daphne asked, sceptical.

"Oh, you wait 'til you play Doom." Tracey said, excitedly picking up another controller. "Actually, you take this one. Then you can be player two, I'll find us an easy game to start with. Fifa, Discworld's kind of boring, Cyber Sled, Lemmings is fun. Then there's these fighters."

"Now you're just making words up."

"Who's the muggle now?" Tracey smirked as she flicked through menus and pressed a bunch of buttons. "Okay, I'll show you Doom to start with. It's pretty easy. This trigger moves, that jumps, and when it goes red that means you're being shot at so you should get some armour or health. Ready?"

"No," Daphne said, completely nonplussed and already forgetting half of the brightly coloured buttons Tracey had pointed out. But before she could object Tracey had clicked 'start' and they were loading up the level. The following hour was nothing short of carnage as Daphne grappled valiantly with the various buttons, shouted commands from Tracey, and frankly terrifying explosions that burst from the TV.

But once she got the hang of it, or at least she stopped dying every five seconds and running into a wall, she had to admit that it really was quite fun. There was something to be said for muggle entertainment if it was that chaotic but addictive and she and Tracey found themselves playing together until darkness claimed the short winter day.

Tracey was just swearing loudly as Daphne was blown to bits by what she was informed were creatures from Hell, when Clara Davis popped her head round the door. "I might've guessed," she smirked, looking at the two girls. "Tea's going to be in a bit, your dad's ordering a Chinese. Do you want anything, Daphne? You're more than welcome, Jace is paying."

She should say no, glancing at her watch revealed that it was already six o'clock and she had left Greengrass Manor at a little after twelve. Even her mother wouldn't fail to notice her absence for that long. But the combination of food, more games and the fact that she hadn't laughed this much since returning from Grimmauld Place, that she just couldn't get the refusal to leave her mouth.

"Sure, that'd be great. Though, I can pay, I really don't mind."

"Nonsense, you're a guest. I'll go get you girls a menu."

The game was paused and the menu eagerly accepted when Clara returned, although Tracey after a few seconds said she'd just get what she always had and began recommending various dishes to Daphne, who recognised about five dishes and most of them were on the English section. Hogwarts really didn't have much variety, she realised, and her mother just accepted whatever Mopsy put on their plates.

"So that's one chow mein, sweet and sour chicken ball and chips for you, Trace." Clara recited, noting down what her daughter had requested on a small scrap of paper. "And satay sticks, beef curry, and another egg fried rice. Right, we'll get that sorted now. Should be about forty minutes, so don't get too engrossed. And when it's here, it really is here. None of that five minutes rubbish."

"Mum," Tracey whined, clearly embarrassed but nodding all the same under her mother's stern look.

"You sure she won't let me pay?" Daphne asked when Tracey's mother had disappeared.

"Nah, she'd just get me to give you the money back. You should come more often, we never get takeout."

"Maybe you should just get Ron over," Daphne teased, she had been trying to bring up the topic of their discussion earlier but with little success while they'd been playing. With the game paused and food decided on, it was now or never. "If this is what they do for me, imagine what they'd do for him."

"Don't, it'd be so embarrassing. Dad'd try to be intimidating and mum'd just quiz him," she looked revolted. "No thanks."

"Never know, you might have to one day."

"I should never have told you."

"Like I didn't already know," Daphne scoffed, "you two are obvious. Why do you think me and Harry ditched you."

"So you did bugger off on purpose." Tracey said triumphantly. "I knew it. Ron said we'd just been ages cause Pince had to kick us out in the end, but I knew you ditched. I can't believe you."

Daphne smiled at her irate friend, whose look of indignation turned to one of dawning realisation. "See, obvious."

"Alright, fine, yeah I like him. Big deal. It's not like we can do anything about it, even if we wanted to. And I'm not totally sure he does, I mean, there's Granger, isn't there?"

"True," Daphne wasn't going to deny that she too had seen the looks the bookish Gryffindor shot Ron whenever he and Tracey were enamored about Quidditch. "But, it's not up to her. It's your choice, the pair of you and I reckon if you asked he would say yes."

"Me?" Tracey asked, her voice rising an entire octave.

"He's not going to, look at him," Daphne pointed out. "So, you can ask him, he'll say yes. Granger will sulk, sure, but she'll get over it. What's the issue?"

"You mean apart from our houses hating each other and the fact the whole school would be whispering about it for weeks?" Tracey asked, sarcastically. "No, no problem at all. I mean, look at what they did to you, and you weren't even dating Harry. You just talked to him. Once. Imagine what they'd be like if we actually got together?"

It was probably not worth pointing out that this exact problem would likely extend to his mother too, Daphne reflected.

"Didn't you just tell me a few hours ago that it doesn't matter what other people think as long as the people you care about support you?" Daphne asked, casually.

Tracey glowered at her, "don't use my advice against me."

"But it's such good advice."

"I hate you."

"Love you too, Trace." Daphne smiled, ignoring her friend's feeble attempt at lashing out.

"And how would you like it if it was Harry, if the whole school would be muttering and talking about the guy you just wanted to date without anyone poking their nose in? Or Malfoy ripping you apart in the Common Room?"

Daphne didn't answer for a moment. The idea of dating Harry was not one she had ever considered before. She pictured what it would be like, Malfoy's snide comments or the whispering that followed them around the school. They wouldn't have a moment's peace. But surely, she reasoned, if she liked him, like actually really properly liked him, it would worth it?

"It depends, it wouldn't be how I'd want it to go. But, if I liked him enough, and if it's what I really wanted, then I'd go for it. It's like I've always said to you, Trace. Hogwarts isn't forever. We'll all leave one day and this house tosh will just be another thing. People get on with their lives. Gryffindor, Slytherin, what does it matter? Your dad's a muggle, they made it work."

"And what if it messes up everything? What if we don't work?"

"I can't tell you, I've never had a boyfriend. But surely not taking the chance is just accepting failure? At least if you try you've got a shot at it working."

"Since when were you so wise?"

"Since I started looking out for you," Daphne smirked. "I think you should do it. Both of you. Harry reckons he'll say yes too."

"God, you talked to Harry about this?"

"Do you really think I'd let you say something without finding out if it was worth it?" Daphne asked. "I'm offended." There was a moment of silence in which Tracey began biting her lip and sending anxious glances out of the window. Daphne could understand why. Every relationship she'd had within the castle had been a lie, this was very much real and could, quite easily, blow up in her face. But then, so could anything else. Life was a risk, the real challenge was not flinching when you took them.

"Look, for what it's worth I say do it. You clearly both like each other and everything else, that can be worked out. And if it doesn't, at least you tried. Merlin only knows how many people have sat and wondered 'what if' and 'if only'."

"One day, I'm going to tell you all this and you can see how you like it," Tracey muttered. Daphne just smiled, it wasn't going to be easy, for either of them, but it would be worth it. Ron so clearly liked Tracey and waiting around just meant that someone was going to miss out. Hermione had her chance and Daphne had no qualms in pushing Tracey towards Ron.

"Sure, so when are you going to ask him?"

"I don't know, two minutes ago I wasn't going to ask him anything. And I still don't know if I am soon."

"Well, if you ever want to talk about it, you know where I am." Daphne said reassuringly.

"Cheers, Daph. You're a good friend."

"So are you," Daphne smiled and she really did mean it. There was a reason she wanted to interfere in Tracey's life. A reason that she didn't want to go home. No matter how it had started, she and Tracey were good friends. If she was honest with herself, she would have to admit that Tracey was her best friend. Neither her father's death or her mother's attempt at parenthood had equipped her for the idea of relying on anyone but herself. But as the months had dragged by she was slowly getting used to the idea that there was more to life than watching other people live it.

They didn't have to wait long until dinner which was a relaxed, fun and happy affair. Far from the torrid experiences Daphne had been sharing at the Greengrass table every day since returning from Hogwarts. By the time night had truly settled in and avoiding her home was no longer an option, Daphne let herself be guided to the fireplace and bade farewell to the Davis household.

No sooner had the emerald flames engulfed her did she wish that the large manor she called home was anything but.

"You're late."

"Hard to be late when I never told you when I would be back," Daphne said frostily to her mother, who was looking over some complicated looking paper with a goblet in her perfectly manicured hand. She did not so much as look at Daphne. Her gambit of saying she would accept her friendship with Harry had failed, the faint idea of motherhood had died and the mask of coldness and indifference Daphne had grown so used to was solidly back in place.

"Astoria informs me you were seeing a friend," Melissa continued. "I take it this friend was not Harry Potter?"

Like I'd see Harry through a floo network Umbridge can get at. Daphne thought bitterly. She was still a Slytherin after all. "No, Tracey Davis."

"Ah, Clara Knot's daughter."

That was it. The disgraced Knot that no-one talked about, Daphne knew she remembered the name. She also remembered the tirade that had come from her mother whenever Clara had been brought up. Her father had been a different kettle of fish, when he could bring himself to speak that was.

"Yeah," Daphne said simply, not letting out the tirade she wanted to set loose on her mother. There was no point, it would only make things worse and prove the point Melissa Greengrass had been so desperate to make regarding the fact that 'she needed toughening up'. She wondered how awful her grandparents had been to make her mother like this.

"Peculiar company indeed."

"Goodnight, mother." Daphne said, refusing to get sucked into a fight she was not prepared for and was too tired to have. Any happiness from the day escaping from Greengrass Manor had vanished. She left the room before giving her mother the chance to reply and headed straight for her room, where Astoria, her brown hair tied in a ponytail and her face an unusual canvas for concern as she sat on the large window sill, a book in her hand.

"I didn't hear yelling this time," Astoria started, "so I'm guessing that didn't go terribly?"

"She just hates Tracey for having a blood traitor mother and thinks Harry is a… oh what was it… 'dangerous' that's it. So yeah. Great." Daphne snapped bad-temperedly as she threw herself on her bed. She reached down, unbuttoning the jeans that she was wearing and letting out a sigh of relief. The trouble with wearing clothes she barely wore was she'd grown over the last year.

"Which is dumb cause Trace is great," Astoria concluded, snapping the book shut. "But maybe mum'll come round."

"Doubt it," Daphne sighed. She wanted to snap at Astoria for her naivety, but she was already on awkward terms with half the household as it was.

"How was Trace's?"

"Yeah, pretty good. We just played games on this PlayStation thing?"

"I've heard of them," Astoria said, excitedly. "I've always wanted to have a go."

"How do you know what they are?" Daphne asked, baffled.

"I have my secrets," Astoria grinned, "nah, I get on with a bunch of Hufflepuffs and there's a few muggleborns."

"Is there anyone you don't get on with?"

"Until recently, you. And yet here we are. So I'm going to say no, what can I say, I'm a likeable person."

"You're full of it, is what you are." Daphne said, rolling her eyes. But Astoria had a point, loathed as she was to admit. It was part of the reason she had resented her sister for so long. Something she was still struggling with. It was hard not to. "Oh, and she definitely fancies Ron."

"I knew it!"

"You can't tell anyone though, I'm serious Tori, she'll kill me if you do."

"My lips are sealed, but good for her. They'll be cute, I really liked him. He seemed nice."

"You met him for thirty seconds," Daphne said, exasperatedly.

"You can get a lot from thirty seconds," Astoria shrugged, "like the fact that they clearly have the hots for each other."

"And she says I was bad, Merlin, she doesn't know the meaning of the word."

"I'm a romantic."

"You're thirteen," Daphne objected.

"And how does age diminish my ability to appreciate love? I think it's lovely, it's proper Esmeralda and Xander stuff."

"I knew I was going to regret showing you that book," Daphne sighed. Whilst short, the story of two lovers unable to be together because their families forbade it was one that Astoria had devoured in less than a day. In fact, she was sure it was the last story she had recommended to her sister for that very reason. Astoria had not shut up about it for weeks.

"What's wrong with Xander and Esmeralda?"

"It's pap?"

"It's literally celebrated as being one of the most beautiful love stories ever," Astoria shot back, "the muggles even got their own copy. Though they got that Will guy to change the names round. I think I prefer our version."

It was a wonder that muggles never discovered the magical world. Enough of their writers had been inspired by small adventures into it. A patchy memory charm here, a mild bit of remembering here and there were entire genres dedicated to witches and wizards. Of course they didn't get all the details right. Tracey had gone about Lord of the Rings enough for Daphne to know that Gandalf was well off.

"I am not debating the finer points of Esmeralda and Xander with you," Daphne yawned.

"Suit yourself," Astoria shrugged, leaping down from the window sill. "But you could do with reading it again. Never know what lessons might jump out at you."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Daphne asked, but she had heard enough rumours and whispers to recognise the tone of her sister's voice all too well.

"That Tracey might not be the only with a Gryffindor in her sights," Astoria grinned.

"He's a friend."

"Sure," Astoria nodded with no real conviction. "See you tomorrow."

And with that Astoria disappeared, leaving Daphne to exasperatedly wonder when people would let this drop. Although, a small and very tiny voice at the back of her brain, a voice which she had been ignoring for weeks and weeks, was wondering why they were talking? Did she give off vibes without realising? Did he? They were friends, that was it. She was sure of it. Wasn't she?