✧ hollow ✧

She had never heard of a noise like the one that escaped Sean. It was completely raw and vulnerable – something she had never expected from the Malfoy boy, nonetheless in her presence, as well. Daphne didn’t know what to make of the admission or of the crumbling walls that shone behind his bright gaze. Gently, his fingers caressed her cheek and he said her name like a prayer. Like she was something to worship. To fear.

What happened next felt like a blur and yet one of the most exhilarating moments of her life.

Sean’s lips crashed against hers like a crestfallen wave. While his touch was not soft, it wasn’t threatening either. He held her with strength, knowing that she was capable. That she wouldn’t crumble. Daphne had forgotten that part of herself after the war, and yet somehow, kissing Sean Malfoy, had reawakened everything.

Drinking the whiskey that she tasted on his tongue, hoping to get even drunker off of him, Daphne moved her mouth vigorously against his. Every inch of her body pressed against him, which only elicited a soft moan to flow past her lips, especially after she felt his hands across her thigh, wrapping her against him even more. Heat coiled within her belly and traveled lower, urging her to press her hips against his and the hard ridges that sat there.

He released her mouth only to speak intoxicating words that filled the air, causing Daphne’s euphoria to heighten. They sounded rich, as if they were dripping gold and filled with honey. His mouth moved across her in a wicked tandem, igniting her skin wherever his lips touched. However, when she felt the graze of his teeth behind her ear, the noise that escaped her was unlike the timid, soft girl she had become. “Fuck,” she hissed, savoring the warmth of his breath and heated words as rolled her hips into his, feeling his hardened length across her warm center through the thin layers of fabric. His kisses turned more savage, ravaging her.

Daphne fully let him.

Kissing him back with the same amount of fury, the hand woven between his pale hair tightened into a fist, tugging at the locks and pulling his face closer to her own. “You can do them to me,” she whispered against his mouth, letting her tongue flick against his. “All of them. Please.”

In a flash, they had traveled from the floor of Sean’s bedroom to the comfortable mattress of her own. Apparating had shifted their position so that she now sat on top of Sean. Seeing him look at her, as if she had every right to have the high ground, made her skin feel on fucking fire. Her eyes darkened and she gazed at the sculpted ridges and valleys of the muscles across his bare chest. Allowed her fingers to roam and explore with one hand while she shifted out of her top with the other. Tossing the shirt over her shoulder and into the shadows behind them, she gazed down at him, panting ever so lightly.

She felt exposed – more than she ever had. And yet, she didn’t cower. After spending months running from herself, she finally felt grounded enough to stay.

Sean’s gaze was intense, but she didn’t shy from him. Letting him drink his fill, Daphne only shivered as he brought his knuckles up to the underside of her breast. Her nipples peaked at the sensation and her eyelids fluttered shut while her lips parted with a sigh. Without any hesitation, she rocked herself against him again, needed to quell the urgent need for friction.

And then he spoke – words soft enough to not startle her, but with enough conviction to make her movements cease.

With his steady hand across her lower back, Daphne decided to place her own palms against his chest to keep herself upright while she stared down at him. Her hair was tousled and her lips bee-stung. A flash of worry darted across her face, fearing that he was rejecting her. However, after his soft mouth caressed hers, a promise and a future laced within it, she let herself sink into his chest. After a moment, letting him stare into the caverns of her brown eyes, she nodded. Agreeing with him.

They should stop – at least for now. She was thankful that he had the decency to bring her back down to earth for a moment, to face the reality that weighed upon them.

“Yes,” she started, eyes closing but still putting all her weight against him. “Yes, you’re right.” She sounded out of breath, as if she had just faced another battle. Still, even as she felt herself sober up, there wasn’t a hint of regret. Fear? Yes, but not of Sean, of the risk of being vulnerable again. Of letting someone in, someone that could very easily be taken away.

She gently rolled off of him and claimed the other side of the bed, facing him. His hands still refused to let go of her, though Daphne was thankful for the weight. She tangled one of her legs through his and rested her head against his chest, letting his truth sink in.

“... You make me feel like I am not alone."

Her grip on him tightened, fearing that he would somehow slip away into the shadows if she weren’t careful. “Please don’t go,” she said, lips brushing against his firm, warm chest. “Promise me.”

Daphne fell asleep with Sean’s arms shielding her – an impenetrable force that made the girl feel safer than she had in years. For once, her sleep wasn’t plagued with nightmares or the ghosts of the deaths she had witnessed. There was no war, no prejudice – nothing but the steady beat of Sean’s heart and the rise and fall of his chest. Though, eventually, morning came. The sheath of sunlight through the curtains highlighted their sleeping forms, rousing Daphne from her deep slumber.

Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she gently maneuvered her position into a mirror of last night. She straddled Sean’s hips lazily, letting the comforter hang over her shoulders. Softly, her fingers traced small designs against his smooth skin, mostly in the valley of his hip bone. As he started to rouse from sleep, she whispered a quiet, “Good morning, Malfoy.”

She was touching him. Sean's skin warmed with each graze of her finger tips, each stroke like a feather. She explored the history of his back with such grace and tenderness that for a moment, his throat burned.

"Do not apologize for the things that are not your fault." Sean breathed, the nightmare already lost in the wave of new emotions running ramped through his body. His thoughts were scrambled and raw as Daphne's hand tangled into his hair causing a noise to escaped his throat. He closed his eyes, trying to find the composer he so desperately needed.

"Daphne.." Sean whispered, a half hearted attempt at a protest. He shouldn't be doing this, he reminded himself, his hand now coming to touch Daphne's cheek. He could blame it on the whiskey that still blurred his vision or the fact he'd flinched away from any soft touch since the war. He'd flinched from kindness most of his life and every warning trigger inside of himself blared to life.

"This is going to hurt you, Sean." The voices inside his head whispered. "She's going to rip you apart the first moment she glimpses that monster living inside of you. No one could ever want someone like you." The voices crowed, growing louder with the beat of his heart. He pushed them down, away, somewhere he couldn't hear them. For a moment, time paused and then crashed as Sean's lips pressed against Daphne's.

She tasted like whiskey and honey. Sean's hand slipped from Daphne 's cheek to her hair and he pulled her up towards him, closing what space was truly left between them. He hooked his other hand beneath her thigh, wrapping her leg tightly around his waist.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." Sean whispered, moving his mouth to kiss the corner of her lips and then lower, his teeth nipping the flesh beneath her ear. "And you have no idea the not so beautiful things I want to do to you." He breathed, his chest rising and falling in heavy breathes. Sean's thumbs moved with precision as it circled the back of Daphne's knee. He brought his lips back to hers, kissing her harder this time. He was losing all restraint and apparently his fucking senses right along with it. He needed to stop. This really needed to stop. In one quick motion, Sean apparated.

The pop was loud in his ears as the pair of them appeared in the guest bedroom Daphne had picked out earlier. The sheets felt cold against Sean's too hot skin and he sucked in a breath. He wasn't sure why he'd brought them both here, he had only known there was no way he was going to go any farther with Daphne in his bedroom. She deserved so much more respect than to be touched on the floor next to a bunch of empty liquor bottles.

If Daphne was confused, she didn't show it. Instead Sean watched with curious intensity as she pulled the tank top loose from her body, tossing it somewhere into the dark. Apparating had shifted them and now Daphne was on top of him, legs straddling his waist. He brought his knuckles up, brushing them under the curve of her breast.

"I don't want it to be like this." Sean whispered up at her, his hand coming to rest flat on her lower back. "Half drunk, over run with emotions, in the dark of this manor." Leaning up, Sean kissed her, gentle this time. Bringing his forehead to rest against hers, he searched her large brown eyes.

"Lay with me and just let me hold you. You ground me, Daphne. In a way no one ever has. You make me feel like I am not alone."

Daphne chose the room that seemed the least like the sinister Malfoy name she had grown to know. Months ago, she would have flourished in keeping the same assumptions about Sean she always held. Arrogant, cruel, prejudiced… And while the Slytherin boy had always been a little warmer than the rest of his family, she knew his flame was one too menacing to dabble with. Getting caught up in the world of Death Eaters and their ilk would only end in torture. And heartbreak. Before the war, she wouldn’t have been caught dead in affairs with Sean Malfoy.

And yet, there she was, about to spend the night in his very home. Out of free will.

The room was covered in emerald green, a good homage to the den of snakes he thrived in at Hogwarts, but it also held a striking gold that garnished the darkness like a halo. It nearly reminded her of her own room back at school, how she painted gold vines across her wooden bedposts, how she slept on soft, honey sheets. Their paths had truly crossed, and it wasn’t as terrifying as it seemed.

In fact, Daphne was almost thankful for it.

With the firewhiskey still governing most of her movements (and thoughts) she slowly paraded about the room, letting her eyes wander across the extravagant ceiling with her thin fingers trailing across the silken bedspread. She did not succumb to the weight of the room, nor the weight of Sean’s eyes as they followed her. If anything, she thrived in it. However, she had grown so quiet and so entrapped in the breathtaking room, that she was unaware of Sean’s departure. How he left silently, and without a word. The air had grown heavy between them inside the library, but not in a way that dragged her down. It was a newfound weight that tested her strength. One that showed her just exactly how strong she was and had always been.

Once her eyes had roamed over every corner of the room, drinking it in as if it were as intoxicating as firewhisky, Daphne strode over to the grand bed and slipped beneath the covers. Her pajamas were simple – very her. A strappy grey tank with a pair of dark red shorts. Simple and comfortable. However, as she sank into the mattress and let her body fully unwind, she figured wearing a suit of armor could even be comfortable in this bed. It molded to every curve. Cradling her. Lulling her to sleep before the worries of tomorrow were able to sneak their way in.

She blamed the alcohol for causing her to rise at an ungodly hour.

The moon was still high and bright outside of her window, alerting her that morning would not come for hours still. Exhaustion riddled her body and she could feel the firewhiskey’s effects still raging a storm inside of her. Daphne’s mind was alert but also slightly fuzzy. It was enough to where she could easily make sense of her surroundings, but yet unable to draw conclusions as to where the muffled screaming was coming from outside her door…. Was it her imagination? Was the house charmed to deflect a good night’s sleep to unwanted visitors?

As she sat upright in bed, dark hair tangled like ivy, Daphne ignored the rampant beating of her heart and listened for more screams to come.

And, Merlin, did they.

There was no mistaking Sean’s voice – it was the very thing that caused her to jolt out of bed and sprint across the room and fling open the door. Without the extra layer muffling it, his screams were damn near ear piercing. The agony in them… The pain…

She raced across the hall, not even thinking twice about barging in unannounced.

Sean’s room was nothing but a blur as she focused in on his silver hair, strewn across his pillow, how his pale chest was soaked with sweat, and how his face was twisted into a state of agony. His silken blankets were tossed towards his feet, leaving him in nothing but the black pants that hung low on his hips. He was dreaming.

Rushing towards the foot of his poster bed, she climbed over the ornate wood, planting herself on his mattress. “Sean?” she asked, perhaps in a voice only Sasha could hear. Crawling forward, her hair hanging across her like a curtain, she spoke again, this time louder. “Sean!”

Still nothing.

He continued thrashing slightly and quiet whimpers escape from his throat that was strained enough to where she could make out the small veins breeching underneath his skin. “Sean, wake up!” she called, placing a hand on his slick shoulder and shaking him gently. Yet, the boy did not wake. As instincts took over, Daphne tossed one leg over his hip, while letting the other rest on the opposite side. Straddling him, she placed both hands firmly across his shoulders and shook. Hard. “SEAN!”

The room suddenly grew quiet. And his eyes fluttered open.

And then he lunged towards her, their bodies colliding with a sharp thud that nearly knocked the wind out of her. Rough hands grabbed her arms and Sean swiveled his hips in order to pull himself on top, switching their positions. However, they both were far too close to the edge of the bed and Daphne landed on her back with a smack! Her vision blurred for only a moment, but she was able to watch Sean unleash his wand, watch him frantically illuminate the room with a plethora of sparks. Immediately, her mind flicked back to them inside the closet at school. How Sean had gripped his wand fiercely as he burst out of the closet – a haunting look on his face.

“Sean… Sean. It’s me. It’s Daphne.” Slowly, she moved her hands from where they gripped his wrists, to snake down his hands, past his torso, until they rested across his back. Her fingers brushed against multiple patches of smooth, yet raised skin.

Scars.

Idly, Daphne traced her fingers across each one, her eyes growing distant and yet her mind remaining rooted to him. Her name coming as soft as a breath from his lips nearly caused her to smile, but her panting, ragged breathing was too prominent to diminish. His own breath cascaded across her face while his nose brushed against her own. This was the closest she had ever been to him. Even closer than inside the closet. She could feel every curve of Sean Malfoy pressing into her. His chest, his thighs, his hips.

“You - you were screaming, Sean. You were having a nightmare.” Her eyes refused to leave his. They were the color of glaciers, and yet they felt as warm as fiendfyre. And almost as destructive. Still, even with their unusual position, she did not move. Part of her didn’t even want to.

“I was trying to wake you. I’m sorry.” One hand began to travel upwards, towards his broad shoulders, while the other lazily traced the scars that headed towards the small of his back. While it was a relief to see him awake and lucid, the horror branding his back was written across her face as clear as day. Her brows furrowed as she stared back at him, as her hands explored this piece of him she had not yet discovered.

There were so many… Most deep and brutal. Whoever did this, though she had a decent guess as to who, knew exactly what they were doing. That they had had practice.

Daphne swallowed a lump that was beginning to rise in her throat and she attempted to blink away the burning sensation that started to pool in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice strained and holding an entirely new meaning.

For she wasn’t apologizing for waking him. Not this time.

The hand that traveled across his shoulders then made its way to his neck and began to toy with the soft hairs that sat there. Moonlight haloed Sean’s form, outlining every ridge of muscle that she was also feeling with her hands. As her fingers snaked their way into his hair, she began to lightly massage his scalp. Pulling and weaving his soft, mussed locks. She felt… different. Something so unlike the euphoria she received from the firewhiskey. No, this feeling felt like moonlight. Bright, yet cloaked in darkness.

She liked it.

Sleep, regardless of the amount of alcohol Sean had consumed, did not come easily. After leading Daphne to a rather large room adjacent to his own, Sean had lingered in the door way for several long minutes. He tried not to find disappoint in the idea that Daphne didn't want to join him in his own room, and told himself it was for the best. The two of them had drank way too much alcohol and Sean had the feeling neither one of them were capable of making good decisions tonight. The last thing that needed to happen was a drunken interaction that left them both feeling awkward with each other tomorrow morning. Sean needed this friendship, maybe more than he'd ever needed anything else before.

"This is a good choice." Sean commented, staring around the room she'd decided on. Ivy green and dazzling gold clouded the rich decorations and the wooden body of a large serpent curled itself around the soft glowing fire place. The canopy bed was large and welcoming, with heavy blankets that plush pillows. Sean caught himself chuckling at how out of place the Gryffindor girl looked surrounded by such dark luxury. A roaring lioness in a den of monsters. It was strange, how Daphne appeared to him now, how she had appeared to him since their return to Hogwarts in September. She was, in every way, like staring into the night sky. Vast, endless, breathtaking. Sean thought and knew without a single doubt, that Daphne Sanderson was the utter most exquisite thing he’d ever seen.

It had taken far too much effort for him to shut her bedroom door. He’d forced himself to walk down the dimmed hallway towards his own room, to slip inside the tomb, and shut it behind him. He had scoffed down what ever had been left in his bottle and then he’d sat on his bed unable to control the racing thoughts inside of his head. What was he doing? Was this a bad idea? Had his father completely scrambled his brain and left him with the frontal lobe of a newborn?

“I’ve gone bonkers haven’t I Sasha?” Sean whispered to his rat sometime much later, scratching the white fur behind her pink ears as she nested into the sheets of his bed. “Also, I should warn you, Daphne has a cat. I couldn’t very well leave it behind. So, for now, no free roaming the house.” He told her, a half grin pulling the corner of his mouth. Two more empty bottles now occupied him in his bed as well as a crumbled pack of cigarettes. The room seemed to sway around Sean as he laid his head back against the pillow and his wand rolled lazily into the floor below. Sleep, he willed for himself, sleep.

----

The room was full of music and laughter. The Yule Ball was in full swing, students crowding the hall in every corner possible. Sean perched at a table, his eyes trailing the curves of Vicky Fletcher’s revealing dress. How she had managed to get away with wearing something that short Sean didn’t know or care. It was a nice view, after all. Every fifteen-year-old's Slytherin wet dream consisted of something along the lines of this.

“I am going to fuck her.” Lazar stated to Sean, his face curled into a mischievous grin. Sean stiffed a laugh, his body leaning away from Lazar’s. “Who?” Sean teased; an eyebrow raised as he looked past Vicky Fletcher to the older woman standing close by. “Professor Trelawney? I didn’t realize you were into bifocals. Maybe the old bat might give you a life altering vision if you blow the cobwebs out just right.”

Several Slytherin's howled with laughter at the joke and Sean folded his arms across his chest smugly as Lazar flushed. “Bloody hell, no! Daphne Sanderson. Have you not noticed her legs?” He spat out, the smallest hints of distaste on his tongue towards Sean. Gawking at the other, Sean shook his head, standing rather abruptly. “I have to go.” Sean snapped, confusing and shock making his features twist. He had no idea what was going on, but he felt odd. This whole thing felt odd.

Half way across the great hall, the walls seemed to crumble and replace themselves with the sharp décor of his father’s study. Sean whirled around, his back smacking painfully into a maple desk. The music from the Yule Ball still echoed loudly, even as his eyes landed on Damien Malfoy and the rugged clothes hanger in his boney hand. “You.” He spat, bringing the hanger down against Sean’s bare black. “Are.” Blood splattered as his skin tore. “Worthless.” He gritted out, the hanger landing again and again on Sean as he held a expressionless face.

“How can you sit here while she’s out there!” Sean shouted, now standing outside of the manor, the hot summer son beating down on him and his father as they argued. “You could be fighting! Protecting her! If you’re not going to go, I’m going.” Sean spat, his wand already out. “You? Fighting for those muggles? Your mother has gone mad Sean! I forbid you from going anywhere. You’re needed here!” His father yelled at him; his wand casting a curse that left Sean withering on the ground. “Help! Help me!” Sean cried out, his fingers digging painfully into the dirt around him. "Help!" He screamed, watching through the eyes of another as bombs fell and crumbled buildings. "Help!" He whispered, digging through rubble piles for any signs of his mother's body.

With a loud gasp Sean sat up, his body colliding with someone else’s. He grabbed the stranger and rolled them, landing with a loud thud against his bedroom floor. His wand, seeming to find its way into his hand, burned hotly against his skin. Sparks shot from the end, quickly lighting the room with a bright blinding flash. Somewhere above him Sasha squeaked and Sean blinked at the noise, his breath coming out in deep uneven breathes. He was shirtless, the scars on his shoulders, chest, and back exposed and blanched against his ivory skin. Some were from household objects, other's from the angry slashes of his father's wand.

He was vaguely aware of a soft female voice calling out to him and after several stretched seconds, Sean finally connected sound with memory. “Daphne?” He croaked out; his face so close to hers that their noses were nearly touching. “What are you doing in here? I nearly killed you.” He whispered, shifting his body weight to his elbows. Daphne’s breath tickled his face and Sean’s nose twitched, both his mind and body becoming more aware. Underneath him, Sanderson was laid out, her delicate back pressed into the fallen blanket and hard floor. Her hair was a frazzled mess of curls and her expression was one of concern.

His voice drifted through the solemn room like a beacon – as if it didn’t belong in such a place. Merely a month ago, Daphne would have assumed his soul was as soulless, as dark, as the walls and aura that sheathed the house like armor; diverging anyone who dared come too close. However, as his wand flicked open the curtains, as she felt the tenderness in his voice, she almost cursed herself for thinking such a taint could live inside of the Malfoy boy. He wasn’t pure, not by a long shot. While his bloodline may date back centuries, even the scarred wounds he had in his soul would never fade. It didn’t bother her, for she had her own, as well. Was anyone truly unscathed from the horrors of war?

Watching the moonlight pool over the room, dusting each of them in its light, she caught a glimpse of Sean’s face, right before he led her to the stairs. He looked… hopeful. And Daphne didn’t know what to make of it. Still, not wanting to douse it just yet, she followed him silently as the flickering light danced over their forms until the shadows sheathed them again.

She wasn’t so scared this time around.

----------------------------------

Whereas the majority of the manor felt like a living, breathing tomb, the library was the exact room that brought a sense of life back into the Gryffindor.

Of course, the Hogwarts library was extraordinary, as one inside of a school should be. There were books on every subject imaginable and Daphne often found herself scouring the shelves for hours time and after time. However, where knowledge was a key component of the library back at school, escapism was often left neglected. There were times when she found herself not wanting to divulge into the matter of spells or potions or magical creatures. She wanted worlds to escape her own. A place where magic didn’t have a dark and light side, where good and evil weren’t so hard to differ from time to time.

The Malfoy library had fiction. And a lot of it.

Granted, most of the books were shoved near the top of the shelves and covered in a thick sweater of dust. After about five minutes or so, the palms of her hands were nearly as black as the walls and she had small streaks of the grime across one of her cheeks from where she wiped away a stray tear. Who knew a small slice of happiness resided within the haunting walls of the Malfoy Manor?

She had also nearly forgotten Sean’s presence as he sat slumped in a gaudy, velvet chair, warming himself by the fire he conjured without magic. It was impressive, to say the least. Though, as he announced his need for a drink, Daphne couldn’t say she blamed him.

Grabbing one last book from the shelf, she carefully made her way down the iron steps of the ladder – careful not to drop a single one of the seven books she had in a pile against her chest. As her wool socks touched the hardwood floor, she barely made it to the small table, where her other books sat flayed open, before the stack came tumbling down. Thankfully, Sean pestering her about the expiration of alcohol drowned out her own embarrassment. “If it’s unopened, then you’re safe. For the most part.”

Huffing a few wayward strands of hair out of her face, she turned to face the Slytherin just as he held out the bottle, filled with a rich, amber liquid. Firewhiskey. Flicking her eyes to him and latching onto his blue chasms, she then snagged the bottle after a moment of hesitation. Bringing it to her lips, she took a long, bountiful swig of the liquor before her face contorted. Flames blazed down her throat and she exhaled sharply at the sensation as she hastily set it back on the table. Yes, the alcohol was properly named, indeed.

Not seeming to be too phased by her dramatics, Sean’s attention drifted to a book that sat at the top of the pile – the dark, Latin scrawl in full view for him to read aloud. He was closer now, enough to where she could feel the warmth of his body against her back, could smell the smoke and firewhiskey lingering. Her breath hitched silently as his arm hovered around her, closing the book. Clearing her throat, Daphne blinked away the fluttering sensation that twisted in her stomach. And the goosebumps that peppered her skin. “I’ll have to entertain myself here somehow.” While she tried to tease him, her voice was left slightly timid, almost faint, like a sigh. Still, she followed him without restraint, curiosity getting to the better of her judgment.

Thankfully, the firewhiskey hadn’t ruined her reflexes quite yet, and she caught the book Sean had tossed her without fail. Flipping it open, her eyes lazily scanned across the various spells as he droned on about his fascination with the book. But, once he started heading into darker territory, talks about Bellatrix Lestrange and the horrors that happened within the home, she found herself diving deeper into the pages. Needing something, anything, else to focus on. “Glisseo – the incantation of a charm that could be used to transform a staircase into a smooth slide.” Her eyes drifted to Malfoy, a smile pulling at her lips. “That one might be useful.” She continued on. “Arania Exumai – a charm that could be used to physically repel spiders by blasting them away. Also very useful.” Reaching the desk Sean was stationed at, she took a seat next to him, their shoulders brushing delicately as she continued to read. “Hmm, Epoximise, Engorgio…Erect–” A cough escaped her as a flush bloomed across her face upon reading the last charm. “Um, Erecto.”

Finding that her curiosity was leading her down a dangerous path, Daphne snapped the book shut and placed it on the desk behind her, refusing to meet Sean’s gaze as he (thankfully) changed the subject – offering her free reign of the library whenever she pleased. It was… generous and… kind, of him.

“Thank you. I will.” Peering down at her socks, brushing her feet against the slick, wooden floor, she continued. “I’m decent at cooking. Somewhat.” She winced and glanced up at him from her thick, dark lashes. “Though, if we don’t want to destroy the house, perhaps leaving me unattended in the kitchen would be a sore start to the holiday.” Chuckling, her eyes once again moved to the array of shelves. She was determined to at least make a dent in them during her stay. She could picture it now: slow, snowy mornings with a steaming mug of hot chocolate, Marley at her feet and purring up a storm, Sean… Sean next to her, pretending to focus on a book.

"....... Or we can sleep together. Maybe a recap of you holding me down by my throat? It can be a put me out of my misery when the nightmares come, kind of deal."

This awoke Daphne from her gaze and her head snapped towards his pale, handsome face. Her eyes grew wide and her full lips parted in shock. Heat crept across the back of her neck and blossomed over her ears. She even hardly took notice of the cigarette appearing between his lips. “I – I can take my own room. That’s… fine. You can put me in one close to yours… You know… Just in case.”

Daphne Sanderson: Courageous Gryffindor and war survivor, and yet unable to flirt with a boy properly.

A pestering meow came from the entrance to the library. Marley right in the threshold, eyeing the pair with a slitted gaze and waving tail. Snagging the bottle of firewhiskey, being sure to take a couple long, generous sips without coughing up a storm afterward, Daphne jumped down from the desk and stared at the cat. Perfect timing.

“Maybe you could show me to my room?” Her words were softer, more slurred together than she had hoped. The firewhiskey filled her body with warmth and diluted her racing thoughts just enough to where instead of a flush of embarrassment paraded about her face, one of intoxication took its place. Deciding that she needed another, just for good measure, she took another swig before heading towards the hall. “Have no fear, Malfoy. I’m assuming I’ll have my hand around your throat again in due time.”

She paused her steps. Quietly cursed her drunken, flimsy mouth.

“I didn't mean it like..... Because of – Oh, boggers.” Exasperated, she shot Sean a helpless look over her shoulder, bottle of whiskey dangling in her hand. “Please, put me out of my misery and show me to my bed before I say anything else.”

The manor had been dark, always. Shadows had crawled and seethed there, been born there, lived with the walls and the staircases and the endless rooms that even he had never quiet explored. When his mother had been alive, she had breathed a certain light to the house, something Sean did not possess, a flame to a perpetual night.  It was as if the manor itself thrived on the emotions of the ones who dwelled in it. Maybe it was a creator of dark wizards, or maybe dark wizards had created it solely to mimic the truth of what lived inside of them. What lived inside Sean. He hated this fucking place. Daphne was afraid. Sean could see it, his eyes darting down to her chest as it fluttered with impending doom. He didn't, couldn't, blame her for it. Sometimes the shadows that crept inside these walls suffocated him too. It also wasn't so bad if you could get your mind off of it, when you weren't alone to be swallowed whole by the things you could never see but only feel. "Did you know there are more windows than actual walls in this house?" Sean asked gently, the bags falling with a thud against the carpet. "It creates the illusion of moving shadows, which I don't think it was meant to do. If we open all the drapes, it's like standing in a snow globe. See," Sean explained, flicking his wand so that every curtain around them snapped open. Moon light and white snow glittered against the glass, light exploding across the walls like falling stars. "A snow globe." He repeated, nodding his head towards a set of stairs. "The library is this way." Ten minutes later, Sean sat in a cushioned chair, soot covering his hands and jeans. A fire crackled lazily in the fire place and several candles burned around the room. The library was huge, with dusty shelves that lined the walls. Some of the books were held by iron bars that seemed to groan with the energy that thrummed through the imprisoned text. Truthfully, the library was probably Sean's favorite and also most hated room in the manor. 

"I need a drink. Or five." Sean grumbled, watching Daphne pull book after book down. Standing, Sean moved to the liquor cabinet and opened it, peering inside. Several unopened bottles gleamed back at him, a thick coat of cobwebs covering their surfaces. "Hey Daphne, do you think alcohol expires?" He asked curiously, pulling down a large bottle of what he hoped was Fire-whiskey. "Want some?" Sean asked, unscrewing the lid of the bottle and moving to stand beside Daphne. He glanced over her shoulder as he took a large chug of the whiskey, placing the bottle down next to them. "Mundus vult decipi, ergo decipiatur." Sean read aloud, his eyebrows rising. "The world wants to be deceived, so let it be deceived? Doing some light reading, are you?" Reaching around, Sean closed the book gently, his chest pressed close to Daphne's  back. He could smell her shampoo and he scrunched his nose at the tug the scent left, his stomach twisting. "Let me show you my favorite book." He added quickly, swiftly moving to the far corner of the library.  "Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes, by E. Limus." Sean exclaimed, tossing the leather bound book to Daphne. "I found it when I was around thirteen. Tons of great spells in it, and none that require one to sacrifice their soul or mankind for it." He joked, plopping down on the edge of the desk. He took another long drink and rolled his shoulders, looking around the shelves. "There's also some children books crammed somewhere in this mess, and the all so infamous Secrets of the Darkest Arts, by Owle Bullock. Bellatrix Lestrange pulled that one out of Hermione Granger's bag when she was imprisoned here. Although I haven't seen it in quite awhile.." Sean trailed off, a slight flush creeping up his neck. He knew the reasoning behind the missing book, that it most likely laid in his father's study, a room Sean refused to enter since he'd returned home.  "You know, unless all of this is too much and you beg me to take you home, you can come here any time you would like to read. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable here or like you have to ask my permission. I did send the servant staff home for the holidays, so we will have to feed ourselves and try not to destroy the house too much."

Rubbing the back of his neck Sean continued, casting a sly glance at Daphne.

"Also, you can pick any bedroom you would like to stay in, or we can drag another bed into my room." He explained, a humorous grin growing across his face as he took another sip from the now half emptied bottle. A cigarette appeared between his fingers and he willed the end to light, inhaling the rough smoke. "Or we can sleep together. Maybe a recap of you holding me down by my throat? It can be a put me out of my misery when the nightmares come, kind of deal."

It was funny – how willingly she was finding herself sinking further and further into the twisted, shadowy depths that seemed to follow Sean. Where she once ran towards anyone who felt like a light inside Hogwarts, she now found herself searching for someone who felt just as dark as her. Someone who didn’t try and mask what she was feeling. Someone who didn’t try to… blind her. Daphne needed something else from life now. Not someone who made her constantly see the good, but someone who has also lived through the bad. Someone who she could face the darkness with. Together.

It was why the corner of her mouth quirked upwards at his flat tone – something she would probably have been offended by years ago, but now found solace in. “So a typical weekend for you, then?” she quipped back. A chill snaked down her spine as more and more snow began to collect across her shoulders and also atop her dark head. Still, as Sean went on, she found herself growing increasingly warmer – more immune to the cold than ever before.

“And would she be just as shocked when she found out her precious daughter also fought in a war?” It was the first time she had brought up the battle so… casually. Maybe it was the playful gleam she saw in the Malfoy boy’s eye, or maybe it was how gentle his hands swept the snow off her head, before entangling themselves in her hair. The act was soft, for him at least. And it ended just as quickly as it had begun. Too soon, perhaps.

She passed him a hint of a smile. A tender one – where only the corners of her lips turned upwards, but a smile all the same. “Since when do you care about your reputation?” Daphne arched a brow. “Besides, what if it is me that is using dark magic – torturing you with my muggle books and cheap wine?” With that, she began to walk backward, towards the open, awaiting window, where her prepacked bag sat on her bed.

“But, then again…” This time, her smile grew, showing teeth and far, far more.

“At least you do have firewhiskey.”

—-----------------------------------

The letter she conjured for her mother was short. Simple, at best. Daphne was firm, but also kind, for this would be the first Christmas Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson would spend without their daughter. She made a mental note to head to Diagon Alley sometime before the holiday, so she could finish her Christmas shopping for her parents. Odds were, after this ordeal, she would have to be extremely generous. Her father was always fascinated by trinkets from the wizarding world – though his favorites were the chocolate frogs. Daphne at least left Malfoy’s address for her mother to write to. And, Merlin knows, she would. Most likely every day.

Still, the smallest piece of Daphne had an inkling that her mother would be understanding. That now, more than ever, she needed to be surrounded by someone who was as close to a friend she had since the war. Someone who would help her get through this first holiday without her friends.

After silently creeping out her window, Marley tucked underneath her arm and cutting glares at Sean as she arrived, Daphne shouldered her bag and took his awaiting hand. Despite the callouses from his wand, his grip was tender.

They apparated quickly.

As the fog cleared from her vision and she found herself in her body once more, she blinked and adjusted her grip on her cat, who mewed his frustrations at her. Technically, she didn’t exactly ask Sean if Marley could tag along – but wherever she went, the calico cat would follow.

Facing the Malfoy Manor was nearly as chilling as the piles of snow accumulated around it. The exterior was dark and gothic, looking more like a prison than an actual home. Seeing it in person jolted memories – of the Malfoy’s before Sean. Who his father was… How much history sat behind those onyx walls. How much hatred towards her kind…

She was thankful for Sean’s voice cutting her out of her stupor and Daphne flushed slightly, embarrassed. “Sorry,” she started, voice uneven. “I just… forgot about a lot of it. Until now.” Worried that her honesty had offended Sean, she prepared herself, holding her breath and her grip tightening on Marley.

And yet, all he did was grab her bag and invite her inside. No lashings from his sharp tongue. No chilling glares that would have rooted her to the ground. Though, she did not fail to notice how he approached the manor as if it were a grave. His eyes no longer lit up in that mischievous way of his, and she watched his body physically grow strained.

What horrors did he have to personally experience in this home?

Entering the Malfoy Manor felt like taking a step back in time. Leaving the expansive gravel driveway and meticulously groomed hedges that spanned the outside, inside the home Daphne was greeted with walls of pale faced, pale haired portraits. The entryway was dimly lit and plush carpet rested beneath their feet before it gave way to immaculate stone. Shadows decorated the corners and, even with Sean by her side, she had to press back the feeling of unease.

The Dark Lord had been in this house. Years ago, yes, but she was fairly certain that his magical imprint could survive millennia.

Marley meowed in annoyance and scrambled out of Daphne’s hands. She watched the creature strategically plop onto the floor and immediately begin to march towards the long, velvet chaise she saw peering out of a room. Well, if he seemed to enjoy it… Then she ought to give Sean and the manor a chance, as well. Right?

Feeling unease still make its way up her throat and through her stomach, she hastily pivoted on one heel and turned to face him, breathing somewhat rapidly. “Library,” she sputtered. “I mean, can I see the library? Please?”

Christmas. A holiday that Sean had forgotten was only weeks away; something else he could blame on his cognitive impairment. Was Daphne truly asking if she could come and be swallowed up by the impenetrable darkness of the Malfoy Manor?

"I haven't decorated. I was probably going to spend my time smoking cigarettes and burning my father's belongings." He mumbled, flatly, his hands slipping into his jeans. There were no warm lights, Christmas tree, or holiday cheer there. And Sean knew without a doubt Mr. And Mrs. Sanderson certainly wouldn't let him crash at their place; not with the trouble they'd caused together at school. So why had he come again?

"Your mother would probably die of shock if her precious daughter ran off in the middle of the night." Sean pressed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He stepped forward and brushed snow from the top of Daphne's wavy dark hair, his finger looping around a strain before letting it go.

"My reputation will absolutely be ruined. The Slytherin community might riot, treat us like Frankenstein's monster, burn my house to the ground at the likes of a Gryffindor being inside. They'll never believe we're only friends. We'll receive hate mail from all the Gryffindor boys who swear I'm using dark magic to keep you there." He teased, his voice lost in the chilly wind that now blew around them. "But if you want to come, I won't stop you. I, at least, do have Fire Whiskey."

---

Sean could still remember the first time he used apparition with another person. Unfortunately, the memory was now one tainted with anger and hatred. Any thought of Lazar was like that now, bitter. Bitter because they had once been inseparable and bitter because they could never be like that again. Sometimes he missed his best friend, like how a child missed their security blanket. Other times he was plagued with the thoughts of how Lazar tried to practically kill Daphne, the only girl he had ever had any genuine emotions for.

Daphne had been ready in mere minutes. A small part of him wondered how long her get away pack had been ready to go and he bit his tongue to restrain himself from asking. As soon as she slipped out the window, bags in tow, Sean grabbed her hand gentle and let the black smoke wrap around them. One. Two. Three.

"God I hate the way that feels." Sean grumbled, stumbling several steps down his snow covered driveway. The snow was heavier here and in the hour he had been gone, the snow had accumulated another six inches or more.

Sean turned and glanced at Daphne, a silence falling over him. She was staring at the manor and the look on her face was indescribable. "There's a lot of history here. Not just dark history. I mean, I know what happened here all those years before, but I also know that my mom made it a happier place."

Sighing, Sean picked up Daphne's bags and nodded towards the looming front porch. "Come on. Let me show you around. We can do the grand tour, if you're not allergic to dust that is."

She couldn’t focus on anything but the weight of his gaze. How soft his concern floated through the room — no longer hidden by the mask she had grown used to. Nothing of the Malfoy boy that she had known years ago, but the friend she had found in him recently. Then again, maybe that was her weakened sense of hope. Looking for roses instead of being wary of the thorns. His eyes, from what she could see of them through the darkened shadows of her room, were tracing the outline of her frame, lingering on the soft curves she desperately tried to hide. If war hadn’t tarnished her, she may have let him look. May have stopped yanking down the hem of her sweater and simply allowed themselves to discover each other in a new light. A distraction, if anything.

But she couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But, for the first time since the death of her friends, she found herself growing curious about the idea of… of…

Of whatever came after friendship.

His questioning of the bottles littered across her room pulled Daphne out of her head. Sean’s voice still held nothing but pure intent, a stark contrast to the malice she had grown used to over the years. Well, instead of late, of course. Finally yanking on a pair of black jeans and quickly fastening the buttons, she hastily brushed her wayward locks out of her face and simply stared at the boy, doused in moonlight. A ghost.

“Ran out of fire whiskey,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to the messy floor. Heat flooded her cheeks and she suddenly became very aware of every mussed part of herself — whereas Malfoy looked completely put together. Like always. So aware that she missed the hurt flashing across his face. Missed the way his playful eyes darkened into those chasms she sometimes saw, the ones that terrified her, and yet intrigued her all the same.

It was why the sharpness of his tone startled her, causing Daphne to nearly jump out of her skin. With brows furrowed and mouth gaping like a fish out of water, she took a step forward, trying to backpedal and take control of the situation once more. “N-no, Sean — “ she stammered, “that’s not what I meant. I…”

He brought up leaving, that spiteful tone weaving its way back into him, which she now knew as a defense mechanism. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, more of that venom hissed through the air. It wasn’t fair to him, she realized, how her hesitancy about him still found itself entangling into their… whatever it was that sat between them. He missed her. He wanted to see her. That honesty silenced her more than his spiteful words. Honest wasn’t a word she often correlated with Sean Malfoy. Another unfair, selfish act from her, she realized.

However, his annoyance still began to spiral. Shifting into uncharted waters, an anger she had never experienced, nor seen in Sean. She shivered, though it was not from the sudden onslaught of cold air, thanks to the newly opened window. No, it was from the ice in his gaze, the shards on his tongue. Wounds due to his words didn’t flash across her face, only sorrow for the abandoned boy. Guilt. The desire to hold him as he had held her. Acting on instinct, she took a step forward, just as he muttered a spell to dry up the snowflakes that infiltrated her room. Erasing any sign of his intrusion.

“Sean, wait. I’m so—“

As quickly and quietly as he came in, the Slytherin left through the window. Sealing it shut behind him. Leaving Daphne with everything that she had before: empty bottles, a half written letter.

And also the faint smell of smoke.

Her hands worked quickly — snagging clothes, her school supplies, her wand. She stuffed the belongings into a bag and tossed it onto the bed, where it would wait for her cue if things went… according to plan in the next five or so minutes. Sean had just filled a small void in her life, she wouldn’t let him walk away so easily. Not when she felt as if she had filled a hole in his, too. With determination taking over her bewilderment, Daphne Sanderson flung open her window and propelled herself out and into the blustering snow.

Luckily, he didn’t get very far. Sean was standing with his back to her, the snow blending in with his nearly white hair. Ahead of him, a bird took off, disappearing into the night sky. It was absolutely freezing, and yet she didn’t see the boy tremble. The only sign of his awareness was the cigarette drifting towards the ground.

“Hey!” she shouted, stomping her way through the snow in her untied boots and without a coat. Panting, her hair as wild as her racing heart, Daphne circled him until she stood face to face with Sean, her pointed finger nearly grazing his sweater. Her brown eyes swirled with courage, for this was the bravest thing she had done in a long, long time. “You listen, I talk now. Got it?” Brown eyes blazed vividly as her erratic breathing matched the rhythm of her pulse.

“Just so you know…” Daphne started, voice firm and clear through the silent neighborhood. “You are the first boy to have snuck through my window.” A pause, while she struggled to gain clarity of her jumbled thoughts. Sean was here. Sean was truly here. All of this was otherworldly, and the relief she felt seeing him was terrifying. “And also the first one to clean up after himself,” she added, though slightly quieter.

“Merlin, you just frightened me, Sean. I sat there in my room for weeks trying to write you that bloody letter, trying to figure out the perfect words because I — I —" Daphne paused while wind swirled around them, lifting the powder at their feet. “How in the bloody hell do I thank someone for risking everything for me? Me. There are no fucking words that even come close to the weight of what you deserve.” Her chest heaved as more admissions began to tumble from her red stained lips — a stark contrast to the pale snow covering every inch of her neighborhood. “I’m not mad at you. Not in the slightest. I wanted to see you too.”

Crossing her arms to cover her chest as a chill snaked its way down her spine, she took this small dose of silence to look at him. Edges, shards, pieces — all of him. She had been running from everything that terrified her, it was about time she stopped. Maybe she did deserve a small slice of happiness. Maybe Sean Malfoy could give that to her, no matter how twisted and barbed it was. She was starting to realize she wasn't so delicate anymore. That the lines between good and evil grew blurred.

“Are you spending Christmas alone?” Daphne asked, quieter this time around. "Things aren't so great here, either. I just..." Her voice drifted as she raised her eyes to meet hers. "I just didn't know if you had any plans? Or was possibly interested in some company?"

Daphne reminded Sean of a lioness. Sharp, quick, a predator who knew she was capable of handling herself and anyone who dared to cross her. There was no fear in the face that loomed down at him and the hand on his throat sent a glint of amusement through his eyes. No one, not once, had ever pinned him down by his throat. And yet, Sean didn't fight her off. He watched as her dark eyes transformed from fight to recognition to down right fury. That wasn't exactly the emotion he was hoping for, fury. Sean had thought she would be happy to see him, not furious. He hadn't expected her soft body to be on top of his either, her hips so excruciatingly close to his own. "I'm sorry." Sean breathed, sitting up the moment her body lifted from his. Although he wasn't purposely looking, his eyes seemed to gaze lower. Bare legs, curved thighs. He looked away and cleared his throat, his hand going to his hair. His breath came out a bit ragged and Sean cleared his throat to hide it.  "I...." He began, only to trail off into silence as his eyes landed on the empty wine bottles cluttering her desk. She had been drinking, and not just a little. Even in the darkness of the room he could make out the silhouettes of several of the long elegant bottles. "Did you drink all of those yourself?" Sean questioned in a hush whisper, purposely dodging answering Daphne's accusation of him being crazy. He was beginning to regret that he had snuck into her room and climbed into her bed as if he belonged there. Maybe he was mad. They hadn't shared a word in weeks and Sean suddenly wasn't as sure of himself as he had been ten minutes before. He stood and stuffed his hands into his pockets, avoiding her glare. He felt hurt and embarrassed and the feelings morphed into a sharp angry knife inside him.   "I can leave if you want." Sean spat back defensively. "You act like you've never had someone sneak into your room before. I came to see you and I didn't exactly want to wake your parents but if you keep using that tone with me not even the muffliato charm is going to work."  Sighing in frustration Sean took a step back towards the window. The carpet was damp from the snow that had fallen from his shoes and he used a quick drying spell to clean it up. His fingers grazed the window seal and he lifted it sending cold air throughout the room.  "I wanted to see you Daphne. Is that so hard to believe? For fucks sake I used a forbidden curse to protect you, got myself tossed out of school and my father tossed into Azkaban and you're really going to stand there," He snapped, his words like a breathy explosion, "and be mad at me?" Outside the wind blew and the curtains flapped around Sean, stray snow flakes melting as they danced into the room. He didn't wait for Daphne to reply before he slide back outside, his feet landing with a soft thud on the snow below. He pulled the window shut and moved several paces away before lighting a cigarette. His shoulders felt tense as he inhaled the smoke, large clouds blooming from his mouth in the crisp air.  If there was one thing Sean Malfoy was sure of about himself, it was that he couldn't identify his own feelings most of the time. Everything constantly turned to angry for him and it wasn't just because of the war. This flaw, this blemish inside of him, had been there longer than he could remember. Apparently, Daphne had the same internal struggle, Sean thought. It was ironic, truly, how they both manage to be this fucked up. Sean took another inhale of his cigarette, his thoughts running wild. Why did she have to constantly stir so many emotions inside of him and why the fuck couldn't he stop his infatuation with how she made him feel. There was something about Daphne's presence that brought out the worst and possibly the best in him. Why had he actually fucking missed her.  Across the street, next to a snow drifted parked car, the sweep of feathers caught Sean's eyes. He stopped, the cigarette filter hot against his lips, and stared. A golden eagle sat perched on top of a street lamp, it's body turned towards Daphne's house.  It was huge and shadowed by the light below it. Sean had never seen a Golden Eagle in this part of the country before and especially not in a suburban neighborhood. An unsettling feeling crept its way across his mind and in the pit of his stomach. Ever so slowly his hand moved to his wand and the cigarette fell silently to the ground. The eagle, as if sensing Sean's thoughts, turned it's head as if to stare back at him. It spread it's large wings and swooped from the post, soaring high into the air. For a moment he watched it fly and then as if it was never there at all, it disappeared into the snowy sky above him.

Every bitter, wounding word that came out of Damien Malfoy’s mouth nearly captured Daphne’s attention. How he spat at his son like he was nothing but the dirt on his boot – like something other than his own flesh and blood. A boy, simply wanting to belong to a nest of thorns and venom. While she had only seen the older wizard from afar, Damien’s presence had nearly swallowed the whole room. She had been trapped inside McGonagall’s office for too long, the air was starting to grow suffocating as Sean’s father sucked every last bit of life from it.

Though, as he spewed vicious words toward his son, her eyes refused to land on Mr. Malfoy. Instead, her gaze remained rooted on Sean, who took every insult like a lashing at a post. While his face still held that stoic, hardened beauty, Daphne saw the slight tightening of his eyes. Saw a muscle feather in his strong jaw as Damien continued to do whatever he did best: by inflicting the worst. The raw attacks against her didn’t even hit their mark – only Daphne’s mother experienced their wounds, and even then she only thinned her lips and narrowed her eyes. Of course, she was sure that her mother would rip into Damien when they were off school grounds. Daphne had to get her stubbornness and fire from somewhere.

Still, everything was starting to blur together.

Damien’s voice, her mother’s hand on her back, the warmth of Sean on her other side, Lazar’s chilling scowl. And then there was McGonagall… Her eyes haunted and her disposition clearly exhausted. War had done so, so many things. Daphne hadn’t even realized the horrors that she and the other professors must be facing, as well. To no longer see their treasured students flitting about the halls – to face Hogwarts without the strength of their fellow faculty members. This school would never be the same, the Wizarding World would never be the same, and the confirmation was sitting right in her Headmaster’s eyes.

It was only when Sean shot out of his seat did the world finally slow. She jumped as the chair fell back, as his lean form now towered above everyone as he stood. Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments while he shouted. She winced at last. The softness that Sean held was always garnished with armor and a warning sign, though maybe that was where her Gryffindor bravery came in. He was a conquest, but a journey she might have been too weak to face beforehand. While the war took many things from her, from everyone, it may have also allowed for something else to break free.

It then all happened so fast.

Sean, shoving his wand at his father. Damien raising the wand, aiming right at his son’s chest.

And it suddenly was the war, all over again.

She screamed, Daphne was sure of it. Sean’s name tore through her throat, through the room as his father unleashed the Unforgivable Curse on him. Chaos ensued inside of the office, bodies were rushing towards Damien while Daphne and her mother immediately went to the ground, to Sean’s side as he writhed and convulsed and screamed in agony. Her hands hovered over him, so badly wanting to hold him as he had held her. “Stop! STOP!” she wailed, face twisting into horror as tears pricked at her eyes. And yet, Mr. Malfoy was unrelenting. Daphne had once hoped she would never bear witness to the Cruciatus Curse again after the war. Today, she had already seen its effects twice.

For too long it went on. Every second she screamed. Every second she sat there, arms trembling over him, feeling as useless as she had during battle. When all she could do was hide and try her damned best not the get caught in the crossfire. How easily her courage had been building up. How quickly it then crumbled. Only when the curse finally ceased, when Sean took a breath, did she allow herself to do the same. Tears stained his cheeks and sweat covered his skin.

While she was no expert healer, Beatrice Sanderson knew her way around the properties of healing magic. Call it a motherly instinct or drive, but the woman tended to find herself falling too deep into caring for others. To try and fix the broken, no matter how shattered. Maybe that explained the look that flashed over Beatrice's face – how her mother dove for Sean’s crumpled form before his own fucking father.

It was her mother’s request for assistance that got Daphne moving, requesting Pomfrey’s help for her… her... for Sean.

She had never run so fast in her entire life.

-------------------

Sleep hadn’t been easy the past month. The past year, if she were being honest.

But especially since that day in McGonagall’s office, where she witnessed first hand the hidden wounds of war, and maybe even something far worse. Daphne saw the hatred behind Damien Malfoy’s eyes, how he looked so much like the boy she had grown close to, and yet death and ice covered him more than his very son. She didn’t think that was possible. Underneath Sean’s edges, there was a softness to him. Beauty, like the gentle brushstrokes by an artist's hand.

Whereas Damien Malfoy had nothing but blades and bone – filled with a black hole for a heart, searching for anything to feed off of.

She was thankful he at least wasn’t trapped inside the house with Sean. Thankful that the boy was able to find some sort of solace inside the home. Though, she figured it must have been rather lonely. Filling the grand manor with staff and tutors could only hide so much – especially when one was already struggling with trying to fit into boxes that were too small or expectations that were set just out of reach.

Daphne, along with the others, had been required to write two letters. One for Lazar, which was very, very short and was written while she was drunk off of a bottle of red wine. She spilled on it once or twice. Scratched out a few choice words that she hoped Lazar would still be able to decipher. It was hardly an apology, for she felt as if she had nothing to be sorry for. But nonetheless, she obliged McGonagall’s wishes.

Though, the letter to Sean had been a lot more difficult to write. There were so many unfiltered, puzzling thoughts about him that sat festering in the back of her mind. A devil wasn’t supposed to have any redeeming qualities.

So why was she… missing parts of him? Like the smoke that clung to his clothing. How cynical and yet addicting his little quips to her were, the playfulness she began to find in them. He was protective and charming. Tortured and dangerous. A conundrum of a soul. One that she realized, had his own memories plagued by the vicious attacks that they were far too young to witness.

How easily the school had covered up the horrors of war.

She wasn’t able to cope with any of it. Not really. How Hogwarts attempted to brush everything aside, underneath the dirt and blood and fragile mortality lining the grounds.

As cruel and morbid as it was, Daphne was at least thankful that there was someone else struggling in a way that matched her own. Feeling like an outsider. It was a selfish thought, one that made her skin itch and chest tighten. It wasn’t that she wished misery on anyone, but that weak part of herself was thankful that she wasn’t alone. That someone else had demons to face.

Right before hell erupted in the courtyard, she figured that they might have been able to face them together. Perhaps.

Her letter to Sean still sat half-written on her nightstand. Next to another bottle of wine. And another. She had drank a whole one to herself just tonight. She thought it would have been easier away from the school – getting her coursework by owl. There were no prying gazes, no unwanted touches, no memory of those long halls covered in stone that were once so familiar, but now felt like a maze.

But no, this was worse.

Because there was one thing – someone – at Hogwarts that had slowly been making her school year easier. Even by a fraction. And that had also been taken from her. Just like everything else. Her mother, bless her soul, was patient. Maybe even too much, and her father was swarmed with enough work in his own world to worry about another. They didn’t live an extravagant life by any means, but things were… strained in the Sanderson household. Her father’s job was laying him off. Money was slowly growing more and more scarce.

And, to top it all off, it snowed yesterday.

And she fucking hated snow.

Whatever hope of happiness had been sucked out of her once more. She didn’t go to Damien Malfoy’s trial – which she knew was rotten of her. Perhaps her testimony would have mattered. Perhaps not. It had been a process just to leave her bed, to even walk down the hall to shower. She could barely take care of herself, much less another person at the moment. Another act of selfishness.

It was the first night since the incident where she had fallen into a deep slumber. Where nightmares hadn’t plagued the shadows of her mind. How her body and soul were finally able to find some sort of solace after… Well, after everything. It was mostly due to the wine – how she drank enough in hopes to forget the smell of smoke, the screams of Zahra, the touch of Flynn’s hands in her hair. Sleep had claimed Daphne so strongly that she hadn’t heard the hushed spell outside her window. Or the small latch unlocking right before a tall, lean shadow entered her room. Or felt the sinking weight on the other side of her mattress – pale hands weaving into her russet-colored comforter before the form slid onto the other, unrumpled side of her bed.

She heard the faint whisper of her name, and Daphne hummed. It came again, only louder this time, along with that familiar scent… One that plagued her memories. And nightmares. And, lately, dreams.

Daphne.

She hummed again, rolling over and towards the noise.

“Daphne, wake up.”

Her eyes flung open, fear and trauma instinctively taking over as her hand immediately snagged her wand from her nightstand. Face pale and brown eyes wide, she shot out an arm, reaching for the dark figure’s neck and latching onto their chilled, pale skin. Someone was in her house. Someone was in her fucking bed. With strength she hadn’t touched since the war, Daphne pressed the body into her mattress, rolling on top of the intruder until her legs sat on either side of their waist as she jammed the tip of her wand underneath the stranger’s chin. One hand choking him, the other ready to commit any spell she desired. It didn't matter now, anyway.

The only sound she could hear was the roaring in her ears and frantic, heavy pants.

“Who the bloody hell –” she started, only to cut herself off as the moonlight from her open window unveiled pale blond hair. Striking blue eyes. A face that once turned her stomach into knots, though now nearly made her shoulders sag in relief. Relief.

“Malfoy?” she breathed, squinting her eyes and loosening her hold on his neck. Only slightly. It was him – she could fully convince herself now. Same sharp facial structure, same mouth that liked to twist into one of those infamous smirks. He even smelled like smoke. It was odd, seeing him in normal clothing, as if the Hogwarts robes had instilled some sort of juvenile aura. A mask for the parts of the childhood they lost. A fraud when they were, indeed, adults.

Pouncing on the bed from the shadows, Marley inspected the new guest by sitting on his chest, her multicolored tail waving curiously behind her.

It was then Daphne became very aware of her own clothing. Or, well, lack thereof. As well as their… compromising position.

Even though she wore an oversized, emerald green sweater that fell off a slim shoulder, her bottom half was only covered by her underwear. And her untamed, chocolate colored locks sat in wavy tangles. She licked her lips, still tasting the sweet wine across her red stained mouth. So, as she hoisted herself off of Sean’s rigid body and rushed towards the corner of her room, a few bits of that colorful language she wrote to Lazar may have slipped out.

“Are you absolutely mad?!” she hissed to him, pulling down the hem of her sweater while scanning the ground for a pair of pants. Realizing that she couldn’t fully execute her rage by whispering towards the Slytherin, Daphne mumbled a quick muffliato charm before sending Sean an icy glare. As a flush spread across her face quickly, like fiendfyre, she spoke to him once more, although louder and with a bit more of that Gryffindor nerve. “Explain yourself, Malfoy.”

"Do you realize the shame you will bring to our entire family if you get yourself expelled."  "The minister himself could come through that door right this second and rip your wand away from you without a second thought. I would have rather you been born a squib than to be an entire failure!"  "Feuding with your own house over a girl. You disgust me."  "Your mother would be mortified by your behavior. At least she's not alive to see what a disappointment you have truly become." Over and over Sean listened to his father spew insults into his face. Each time the words became their own bullets, like buck shot fired at close range. It was hard to suppress the rage that threatened to evaporate him and his face felt blazed and blistered with heat. It was one thing to be belittled in the privacy of your own home but an entirely different scenario to be humiliated in front of peers and teachers. In front of Lazar and his family, in front of Daphne's mother. Sean kept his eyes on the floor to avoid having to meet anyone's eyes. A lot of things had been said in the short amount of time the group had been in Headmistress McGonagall's office. Snogging, comforting, debates on whom attacked whom first. Lazar was full of lies while Daphne was full of too much truth. It felt like he had awoken in the middle of a nightmare only worse because his father was there. "Thank you Miss Sanderson." McGonagall sighed, her face full of stress lines as her gaze flickered to Sean. She had aged tremendously during the war, but he had failed to really notice until now. Had he too aged? Had they all? "Sean Malfoy. Do you have anything at all you would like to add to this entire ordeal because if you do this is the time to say it." The headmaster stated through a thin lipped expression. His father, who was now sitting directly beside him, pressed his thumb painfully into the cut on Sean's forearm. A silent command to lie, manipulate, crawl his way out of whatever trouble awaited for him. "No Headmaster." Sean managed, his voice tight with the sudden pain. Since Sean had been the least injured, he hadn't been a priority at the hospital wing. Now however he wished he had went in there causing a scene.  "Son. Are you sure? Because I think it would be wise for you to give your side of things. Did you actually use the Cruciatus curse or is all of this a misunderstanding?" His father gritted out, his thumb now causing fresh blood to trickle from the aching wound. "It is sweet of you to want to defend your friend Miss Sanderson, but I don't think now is the time to take the blame for someone elses actions. If you and Mr. Parkinson were having a mere childs fight over Miss Sanderson I think everyone in this room could understand but I must remind you that you and Lazar have been friends since you were both in diapers. Why would you enlist such a curse for self defence purposes when you could have simply covered yourself with a shield charm until a professor arrived?"  Turning to face McGonagall, Mr. Malfoy continued. "Did anyone besides those two even witness this curse? Has anyone examined my son's wand? Why hasn't the ministry been alerted if it was as serious as everyone is making it out to be? I have things to do Minerva. Is all of this truly necessa-" "Enough!" Sean snapped, yanking his arm from his fathers grip. He stood, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and the chair toppled over behind him. He craved a cigarette and wanted all of this to just be over so he could sit in his own solitude and smoke an entire carton. "Just fucking stop it. I know what you're trying to do and it's bonkers. I used a forbidden curse because I meant it. I don't care if I've known Lazar since we were drooling on ourselves. He attacked me, he nearly blasted a hole through Daphne's stomach, and he wasn't stopping. If I'm going to get expelled for this shit I just want it bloody over. If it's that big of a deal than just check. My. Wand. Check all of our wands. I'm sure you will find they tell more truth than what anyone in this room is saying." With a quick motion Sean grabbed his polish wooden wand from the corner of McGonagall's cluttered desk and tossed it into his father's chest.  Sean had seen wands checked before. Usually it involved the touching of two wands and an echo of the last spell cast. It was how teachers and also parents kept their children in check. It was simply, straight to the point, and standard practice. It was too late by the time Sean realized that his father was doing something entirely different. "Repetere et Revelare." His father hissed, Sean's wand aimed directly at it's owners chest. There was nowhere to go or anything to do to stop it. He could faintly hear McGonagall let out a shocked yell before the curse hit him and the world seemed to become very, very, small. Nineteen, he's watching the blasting spell hurtling straight at Daphne. Eighteen, he's learning of his mother's death. Seventeen, someone he didn't know gets shot through the eye in front of him by a sniper. Sixteen, he's drunk and hates himself. Fifteen, his father whips him with a metal hanger after he made a bad grade at school. Fourteen, his grandmother dies. Thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten, nine.  "Help me!" It was like ripping into a thousand pieces. It was worse than burning alive because at least then you actually died.  Eight. Seven, he's tipped a tea kettle over on himsef. Six. Five. Four. Three, he's falling and falling and falling and he's scared. Two. One.  "ENOUGH!" Professor McGonagall's voice boomed through darkness. Sean couldn't breath or move. Liquid assaulted his nose and throat. Had he vomited? Was he even alive?  Just for a moment, the smallest intervals of time, Sean didn't know where he even was or what was even happening. His body felt numb and discombobulated. There was a strange hum in his ears, the kind you often heard when you stood beneath power lines. "Sean! Sean can you hear me?" Someone was asking. He blinked and the world vibrated around him. His chest felt weak and he wanted to roll over. He thought for a fraction of a second he was staring up at Daphne before he quickly realized it was her mother. Why was she looking at him so concerned. "Daphne, go get Poppy Pomfrey's daughter from the hospital wing. Tell her she needs to contact someone at St. Mungo's immediately." One Month Later The sky was black. Outside Malfoy Manor, snow covered the ground in great heaps that glowed beneath the beams of moon light. It was funny how quickly November had came, as if time was nothing more than crashing waves on an endless beach.  "It's normal to have cognitive issues after experiencing a curse like that. It's going to take time, but I don't think the damage is permanent." The nurse from St. Mungo's had told him two weeks ago when the home visits finally ceased. Still, time seemed a lot less relevant now, and the concept often worried him. Sean couldn't remember the details. Honestly, he couldn't remember much after either. There had been a speedy trial and his father had made the cover of nearly every newspaper. Malfoy: A second fall from grace. Malfoy has psychotic break. Malfoy attacks son with forbidden curse. Malfoy sentenced to Azkaban. His father had received a year, time no doubt influenced by the strong connections the family held. Sean wasn't sure if a year was too much or not enough. He was still shocked by his father's actions and curious all the same. Damien Malfoy was heartless, but he wasn't stupid. Something about what had happened didn't sit right with Sean. Maybe it was just denial. Academic probation had been the next thing he had to deal with after his father. Sean supposed he was lucky that McGonagall didn't throw them all out on their asses. Instead, she had argued that PTSD flocked their generation and the war was to blame for the chaos they had rained down that morning in the courtyard. He had been sent home to the manor to be looked after by tutors and house keepers. Daphne had been sent to her house and Lazar to his uncle's in the county side. The deal had been rather simple. Stay out of trouble, write apology letters to each other, a ten thousand word essay on why dueling was wrong, and they could all return in January as if the entire thing had never happened.  At first he had enjoyed being home. He had smoked, done whatever he wanted, and slept day and night. Now however, he had to admit to himself that he was lonely. The oak desk in his room laid littered with half written letters to Daphne. He had started and stopped so many that even Sasha had become annoyed with him. Tiny chew marks lined several letters and paw printed ink smeared across the pages like a rat crime scene.  The balcony leading out of Sean's room crunched beneath his feet as he stood in the snow. Snow flakes melted against his pale face and several times he had to blink them from his eyelashes. Sean wasn't sure if apparition was safe when his brain still felt partially scrambled, but there wasn't many options for traveling across England in a snow storm in the middle of the night. He knew it was not a good time to show up unannounced at anyone's house, but if he waited for the sun he would have to face Daphne's mother. They hadn't seen each other since the ministry of magic three weeks ago, the day everyone had to testify against his father. Daphne hadn't been there and Sean had been both relieved and disappointed. He wanted to talk to her about everything that had happened, but mostly he just wanted the company of a friend. The cracking sound was loud in Sean's ears as he stumbled forward several steps in the middle of a slushy road. The neighborhood was quiet, decent, modern. It was nothing close to the secluded loom of the manor. Sean had to read the mailboxes to find the correct house. The picture on Google maps had been slightly outdated and Sean was happy to see the house still looked the same.  "I think I might be crazy." He muttered to himself as he made his way around the porch. "Completely mad."  Sean peaked into Windows as he examined the perimeter of the house. He hadn't taken into consideration how hard it was going to be to identify which room was Daphne's.  After several minutes of deciding which shade of white curtain Daphne would likely choose, his eyes caught sight of a red and yellow jacket. It was barely visible through the crack in the drapes, but it was enough. "Alohomora." Sean breathed, waving his towards the locks bolting the window down. Careful not to knock anything over, Sean pushed the window up and slipped inside the room. It was warm and cozy and he breathed out in relief. Definitely the right room. He couldn't see much in the darkness but he could make out the bed and the figure in it. Slowly, like approaching a wild animal, Sean moved towards the wooden frame. He had always been sneaky, but he had never attempted anything like this. The ideal of her waking while he stood in the middle of her carpet with a wand in his hand was certainly going to send him back to St. Mungo's. "Daphne?" He whispered as he edged closer and closer. His knee touched the mattress and he slipped into the empty space beside her. "Daphne, wake up."

She had never expected such warmth to exist in ice – in the distant, standoffish ways of a boy who had been nothing but a product of his environment for years. Sly, rude – falling prey to the accusations and legacies that surrounded his family name like a badge of honor for some, yet a warning label for others. Days ago she would have shied away from Sean’s touch. Would have quite possibly hexed him or splurted unsavory, vicious words. Daphne had considered the Malfoy boy nothing but an enemy. A tool used by purebloods.

But, his hand was warm. His words, from what she could make out of them, were soft. Genuine, even. As if a soul lingered beneath the cold wall he put forth.

Daphne turned into that rare warmth, allowed his calloused hands to cup her face and wipe away those insufferable tears that escaped her armor. She felt weak in that moment. A Malfoy, of all people, seeing her cry over a few trivial words from Marcus Flynn. How fragile had she grown? The urge to dig down deep, to yank out that tenacious mask she wore during the war and the years prior was palpable. But, as she faced Sean and listened to the soothing, raspy tone of his voice…

She felt that, just maybe, that mask wasn’t needed.

This was someone who understood. Someone who had their own demons, but just wore them differently. His, a threat. Hers, a crutch.

Maybe second chances were needed. Maybe she had allowed his childish antics to hold too much weight. Not one Gryffindor student, her own house, had followed her into the courtyard to check on her wellbeing, and Daphne knew more than plenty had overheard Marcus and his cronies. And yet here she was, being vulnerable in front of a boy she was certain she would have hated until the day she died.

War did curious, curious things.

“I know, I know. But they are,” she sighed, agreeing with him. Marcus wasn’t worth it, she needed to regrow thicker skin. But Noah was worth it, along with the rest of her friends. She couldn’t let their memory be used as a ploy by a horny, selfish Flynn. Feeling those uncontrollable sobs refusing to bow, Daphne let herself sink into Sean’s chest. Let his sturdy weight be the pillar to keep herself upright – in more ways than one. It was nearly comical how safe she felt within his arms. An anomaly within its own right. Her throat burned. Her chest felt as if red hot knives were sinking their way into its cavity unrelentlessly. Grief hurt far worse than any physical wound she sustained in the war. Most would fade – the memories would never. So, she wrapped her arms around his waist, her wand dangling lazily from her grip against his back.

Eventually her sobbing subsided into nothing more than pitiful hiccups. Her breathing slowed to a steady amble and no more tears spilled from her sea cliff eyes. Hearing Sean’s muttering about curing Flynn and the others sent a surprise wave of laughter through Daphne – even catching herself off guard. Still, her body relaxed as another chuckle escaped her. “Sean Malfoy, you did no such thing…” she said through giggles, pulling back just enough to peer into his oceanic eyes but not enough to leave the cage of his arms.

He rambled on, each word causing those horrific memories to dwindle, and Daphne watched him with a growing smile on her face.

Until dark movement from behind snagged her attention.

She could barely make out the muffled curse Lazar Parkinson uttered before her wand seemed to act out of its own accord. Hand warm and her sorrow turning into wrath, Daphne’s brows furrowed as she peered around Sean’s arm. Her voice broke through its hazy barrier and quickly hissed, “protego!” right as Lazar’s wand shot out a beam of light aiming towards Sean. Just in time, the curse was deflected from her shield and she stepped away from Sean far enough to shoot a lethal glare towards the other Slytherin. Lazar’s laugh sent a tremor down her spine, but her face remained unflinching as she stood at the ready.

Daphne refused to let his words hit their mark, leaving her face as impermeable as stone as she snarled, “Piss off, Parkinson.” Though he did no such thing as more and more poisonous words spewed from his lips.

It was then Daphne turned to Sean, whose wand now rested in his hand. Those eyes that she once found a hint of solace in now turned as chilled as a glacier. Her lips parted, about to whisper a plead to end this before it started…

But a curse tumbled from Sean’s lips. And the dueling began.

It was clear that Lazar’s main focus was Sean, though that did not leave her out of harm's way, for a few of the students that flocked to Parkinson like flies started shooting out their own spells – most aiming towards her. Her body immediately fell back into muscle memory, a protective, impenetrable mode that she had discovered in the war. The charms and spells that left her were quick and absolute as Daphne dodged and shielded damn near every curse that was shot her way. Rarely did she shoot back her own, and she didn’t dare trespass the thin line between Expelliarmus and something much, much darker.

Still, her body moved in cadence with her spellwork. A lethal dance in the courtyard. There was a reason she had succeeded in her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.

Zahra would have been proud.

As the sweat began to pool across her body, mixing in with the slight cuts and scrapes she acquired from wayward spells, Daphne snuck a glance at Sean. Blood wrapped around his arm like a serpent, marking its denizen. The courtyard surrounding them was nearly in ruins and, while the duel had only been active for mere minutes, it had felt like hours. Where the bloody hell was a professor? Vaguely, she could hear Sean’s attempts to stop Lazar’s antics, but there was no reasoning with him. Almost simultaneously, Parkinson shouted a wayward blasting spell that missed Sean. Instead, it catapulted towards her.

The spell had grazed her side just as she dodged out of its merciless path. The heat of it cut through her shirt, exposing her flesh, and seared its way through her skin. Daphne cried out as she fell to the grass, her wand rolling out of her hand as unfathomable pain laced her side. Hissing sharp breaths through gritted teeth, she attempted to prop herself up on one arm. Attempted to crawl towards her only lifeline, her wand, which rested just out of her reach. Holding in the scream that begged to be released into the air, she blindly struggled for her wand.

Just as the Cruciatus Curse left Sean’s lips.

Daphne froze, head whipping towards him with wide blown eyes and parted lips. The fury… The determination in his gaze was something she hadn’t seen since the war. A look of powerful vengeance.

“Sean…” she whispered, body still paused on the ground. When his curse did not relent, she spoke louder. Across the courtyard, Lazar was thrashing and screaming in pain. His body twisted and contorted in the dirt. “Sean, stop it!”

The spell ceased. And the courtyard went quiet.

Conjuring every last bit of strength she had, Daphne secured her wand in her hand and pushed herself up and onto her feet. Wincing as she did so. Shielding her wound with one hand, she limped towards Sean’s tall, pale stature, her hand resting on his arm to lower it. Lazar’s labored breathing stopped, though she could still see the rise and fall of his chest from the corner of her eye, though her stare remained rooted into Sean’s. Watching darkness swirled through those sapphire eyes like smoke. Yet, she didn’t balk from it.

“What the bloody hell is going on?!” shouted Professor Slughorn as he barreled through the mess, darting right towards Lazar before shooting a questionable glare at Sean and Daphne. More and more professors then started to flood the courtyard – shooing away bystanders and reining in the students responsible. More pain continued to shoot through her side and, needing some sense of support, she gripped onto Sean’s arm forcefully as she swallowed back a whimper of agony.

“Explain yourselves!” Slughorn shouted.

However, Daphne couldn’t even explain what had transpired to herself.

—-------------------------

She had only been inside the Headmaster's office once – when McGonagall had reached out to her after the war. To check in on how she had been doing after returning to Hogwarts without the three people that made it survivable. It was an intimidating, yet comforting atmosphere. Warm chestnuts and emeralds, plush rugs, the fire always crackling. It smelled vaguely of cinnamon and was dusted with cat hair.

However, it felt very, very different with her mother sitting beside her – her beautiful features, so much like her daughters, twisted into concern.

The presence of Sean’s father also invaded the room, his son the only barrier between her and the tall, intimidating wizard. Lazar’s parents sat across the office with their disgruntled son.

“Ms. Sanderson,” came McGonagall from behind her desk. She had set her glasses across the rich wood. Her silver hair was fraying from its usually tight, pristine bun. Daphne stiffened and her mother gripped her daughter’s hand.

“Yes, Headmaster,” she responded, voice quiet.

“Please, recount exactly what happened in the courtyard.”

Lazar had given his own twisted story. It was now her turn to crush his lies with her truth.

She swallowed and glanced at her mother, Fiona, who merely gave her a curt nod, urging her to continue. “Well,” Daphne started, her eyes darting from Lazar to Sean. “I was in the courtyard when Sean joined me. He was… comforting me, about something.” Parkinson had exaggerated his tale – claiming she and Sean were engaged in a kiss. The flush that had littered her cheeks could barely be played off as the heat in the room. “Regardless, that was when I noticed Lazar coming up behind Sean. His wand was out and I could hear him mumble a curse.” She paused, her eyes resting on the wooden floor. “I quickly shielded us with a protective charm, but Lazar was… unrelenting.” Her brown gaze locked on his. And then his bloody parents. “He continued to attack, engaging Sean in a duel. Lazar’s friends then went after me, in which I defended myself.”

McGonagall hummed and her eyes slid towards Lazar. The movement was entirely feline. “Did Mr. Parkinson use any forbidden curses against Mr. Malfoy?”

Daphne stalled. “W-well no, Headmaster. But he was shooting blasting spells. One nearly hit me.” As if in response, the barely treated wound at her side sizzled with pain. Her time at the infirmary was short before she was whisked away to the meeting. “Sean was protecting…” Daphne’s voice trailed off, no longer wanting to admit the theory to herself, nor to the entire room.

That Sean had protected her. By any means necessary.

"He was protecting himself."

The great hall was loud and crowded. Although he had been there for nearly half a hour, Sean hadn't touched a single thing in front of him. His toast, now cold, littered his plate like discarded trash.  Across the room, Sean's cold glare watched Marcus Flynn. Before today, the Gryffindor pretty boy had just been a mildly annoying figure in several of his classes. Now however, Sean wished nothing more than to transfigure the quidditch player into a cockroach perfect for stepping on. He was loud, obnoxious, and clearly unable to keep his hands to himself. Sean's back stiffened at the way Marcus's fingers slid into Daphne's hair. The entire encounter was making Sean's blood boil.  "You okay Malfoy?" Braxton's voice echoed from beside him. Sean's gaze flickered for a moment towards the fair skinned Slytherin as he plopped down beside him. Sean hadn't spoken to Braxton since their train ride to school weeks before, but this morning he had been Sean's only reprieve from the glaring eyes of most of his house. He had joined him in the common room before breakfast and now here he was yet again. Last night when Sean had returned to the Dungeons he had found them empty. For hours he sat, staring off through the large thick glass window that lined most of the wall, waiting. He had expected Lazar to come to him, maybe to send a hex his way, but the encounter never came. After awhile, Sean stopped thinking of Lazar all together and instead his mind had drifted away. He thought of the death eaters and his father, the way Daphne's body had felt pressed against his in that closet, the words she had said to him in the hall. Her tongue was like a sharpened dagger, Sean had thought, and he was almost sure that she was capable of inflecting mortal wounds.  "I don't exactly care for him either." Braxton muttered, bringing Sean back to the present. Blinking, Sean watched as Braxton plucked a grape from the bowl in the center of the table and popped it into his mouth, his gaze on Marcus. "Flynn. He thinks because he's mildly attractive he can act like a bloody asshole. The only reason he's messing with Daphne now is because practically the entire school knows the both of you caught detention togeth-" Sean stood up abruptly, cutting what ever Braxton was saying completely off. Most of the Gryffindor table had fell into a mocking laughter and Sean watched helplessly as Daphne darted out the large double doors. He wasn't sure what exactly he had missed, but it didn't stop the flooding anger. He was vaguely aware of the fact people were now also staring at him as well, but he didn't mind. He drew his wand from his pocket anyways.  "Plures Furnunculus." He muttered, flicking his wand towards Marcus and the group of giggling girls. Within seconds the laughter turned into screams as boils and pimples swelled furiously across all their faces. There seemed to be a universal inhale of shock that washed over the student body at the sight of the group. Good, he thought as he gathered his things, they deserve to feel humiliated.  -- It wasn't hard to find Daphne. She stood in the same spot he had found her in yesterday, only this time she was crying. Sean's steps faltered for a moment as he approached her shaking form, his hand extended. He had never been very good at comforting others and his voice shook with nervousness as he called her name. His wand, warm from the curse he had thrown only minutes before, felt heavy in his hand as he laid it against a nearby planter. He moved closer, his palm on her back, and gently turned her to face him. "Hey. Look at me. It's okay." Sean whispered, his eyes searching the broken expression in front of him. "Whatever he did. Whatever he said, it's going to be okay. Please, please do not cry. Marcus Flynn is not worth it." Tears dripped onto his fingers as he brushed his thumb over her red cheeks. He wasn't sure if she wanted him there or if he had made a mistake by following after her, but his feet seemed glued to the ground beneath him. His arms pulled her closer and for a moment he just stood holding her until the sobs finally turned into hiccups. He knew it was only a matter of time before Professor Slughorn hunted him down but Sean didn't care. He would gladly take a months worth of detention, a years worth even, as long as it meant she wasn't crying anymore. Plus, once he explained the situation, he knew Slughorn would take pity on him. He always did. "I cursed Marcus and his posse." Sean whispered, clearing his throat. He pulled back a bit and shrugged, his eyes searching Daphne's. "I say they'll be in the hospital wing for a few days. I don't think I've ever caused boils to grow that big before, but they bloody deserve-" The flash of a spell being cast behind Sean caused the words he was saying to evaporate right off of his lips. He didn't have time to turn around or to grab his wand which still lay carelessly in the flowers. He flinched and closed his eyes, prepared to feel the wack of a curse in the center of his back.  "Oooooh isn't that cute!" Lazar Parkinson's voice echoed across the courtyard as his spell bounced against Daphne's sudden protection charm. "You have your little girlfriend protecting you now? Why don't you turn the fuck around Sean and look at me. Unless, of course, you suddenly think you're better than your own friends. That's how you felt last night wasn't it? That you are better than me? You think you are better than Marcus Flynn as well? He's a pure blood too you know. Turn around or I swear I'll blow that filthy low status trash beside you to pieces." There have been moments in Sean's life when the world seemed to slow. Once, when he was young, he had fallen from a balcony at a hotel. Time had seemed to pause for him, like grain in an hour glass, and he had thought about so many things on his way down. What had been mere seconds had become minutes and all around him the world had seemed stuck on the lowest speed of play. This felt the exact same way, only it was rage that engulfed him now, not fear. Slowly Sean leaned down and grabbed his wand, his ears ringing from the sudden increase of his heart beat. He glanced sideways at Daphne before turning to look at Lazar, a breath lodged painfully in his throat. Lazar stood in the opposite archway, his wand up defensively in front of him. Behind him stood a small crowd and Sean instantly realized how out numbered they were. Without thought, his wand rose and curses seemed to flow freely from both sides. The courtyard was suddenly nothing more than pure chaos. Lazar knew how to duel. Sean wasn't sure if he had learned it during the war or if it was something the other did for pure sport, but he was quick and efficient. Several times the curses came inches from licking his flesh and he watched in a surreal disbelief as one of the spells missed him, exploding the bench nearby. A slashing curse had cut his forearm and blood oozed out into small puddles at his feet. "Lazar. Enough." Sean gritted out, sweat covering his neck and face. He had held back against the other, only casting mildly annoying charms, but it was becoming increasingly hard not to injure Lazar. It was obvious he was trying to hurt Sean, if not out right kill him.  When another blasting spell zoomed past him and nearly hit Daphne, Sean finally snapped. The spell was out before he could stop himself, the word falling like a heavy stone. "Crucio!"  Sean hissed, his wand pointed directly at Lazar.

Watching Sean light a cigarette was starting to become a familiarity to her – so much so that she caught the way his fingers moved briskly, awkwardly against the pack. It was a task she knew he had done time and time again, and yet this time had made it seem like the boy was nothing but a novice. Even the smoke curling from his lips, once he finally was able to light the end of the stick, looked somewhat out of place. Smoking at first made him look abrasive, damn near threatening. But, now she saw it for what it really was. A crutch. A weakness.

Why he was falling on it within her presence? She wasn’t certain.

As he brought up the brisk, blurred years of her past, when Hogwarts still held its magic, Daphne stilled and swallowed a lump in her throat. Even though the night was chilled, it was not the breeze that scattered goosebumps across her bare legs. She remembered that time very well, though she had also spent countless of hours trying her best not to. It was when the bullying had been at its peak, but also when she had stumbled across Noah and Macy, and when her relationship with Zahra had solidified beyond the pleasantries that sharing a room could conquer. Daphne was finally starting to form friendships. And also enemies, unfortunately.

“I remember,” was all she gave the Slytherin, that dark, mischievous laughter of Sean as a child invading her thoughts like the unwelcomed, frigid breeze. As if in response to the horrific memories, she sunk further into herself, wrapping her arms tighter around her body. She stayed like that, even as his crisp, husky voice rose in the air once again. His smoke drifted past her sweater and she knew that in the morning, she would be reminded of their encounter.

How he was opening up, unveiling the life she had only heard of, assumed. A rich, pureblooded family that had the entire world at their fingertips. The ones that claimed power. Yearned for it.

She hadn’t expected the memories to tumble from his lips, a truth she hadn’t prepared herself for. Her encounter with Sean Malfoy tonight was growing stranger by the minute. They toed the line of enemies, acquaintances.

Friends, perhaps.

Her lips parted as he spoke of his mother, the repercussions of his actions that year that seemed like nothing more than a ghost, now. She flinched as he laughed, the sound sharp as if it could disrupt the stillness of the Black Lake. Daphne’s dark eyes flashed to him just as he took another drag from the cig, falling deeper and deeper into its aid. His grip on the cigarette was as shaky and as groundless as his laugh.

Sean was struggling. And trying his best to hide it.

Though, with every passing breath, every passing word that Sean spoke, that armor began to chip away. The protective veil he had garnered was sliding off as his eyes locked onto the ground, the lake, the sky – anything but her. He spoke of his mother so tenderly, an act Daphne wasn’t sure the Slytherin was capable of. The hardened edges of the Malfoy boy were becoming dull. Or maybe just transparent. Either way, as the history of a woman who did so much protection and healing for a world that couldn’t do the same for her. At the realization, Daphne’s throat swelled, her face paled while an ache settled in her chest. It was only Sean’s hushed spell, igniting the remnants of his cigarette that drew her attention away from the still water and towards the wizard, her face revealing everything. Unlike his own. The ash poured down, dusting their belongings, though her eyes were locked onto his. How easily he slipped back into his retrospective mask, when his voice, his story, had inclined the exact opposite.

Old habits died hard.

She didn’t react to his amiable teasing, at first – still shell shocked of the truths he had admitted. She blinked away the haze, adjusted her skirt and tucked a strand of her behind her ear before responding, pulling her eyes from his. “Your grades aren’t better by much,” she grumbled, reaching for her bag to toss it across her lap. Though, when appearances came into play, she stilled for a moment before, warily, her face turned towards him once more. “Oh, very pleased that I’m your last resort, Malfoy,” she started, accusation ringing in her tone, as well as amusement. “At this rate, you’ll be lucky if you don’t find yourself hexed by the time detention is over. I’m sure Parkinson wouldn’t mind teaming up with a half-blood for one night.”

There was a small but surprisingly genuine smile across her lips now and she met Sean’s gaze, noticing his own, as well. Her shoulders relaxed, her face softened. “I’m surprised I’m conversing with you right now, so I think you may already know the answer to that question. Though, maybe the boils will get you to shut up every once in a while.” She was laughing now, the sound dancing across the lake and releasing into the night air like a gentle caress. Daphne didn’t miss the fact that she didn’t counteract him about his looks. Sean was striking – had always been. It was a nice change of pace, seeing his face relaxed without that dreadful sneer or mischievous smirk tainting the rest.

It was then, did his earlier words truly hit their mark.

“I don't support the belief that I am better than you.”

And she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

He attempted to change the subject, pointing the spotlight on her. Clearing her throat, no longer looking at Sean, but at her hands in her lap instead, Daphne paused. It was… abnormal, the way she was feeling. Unnerving. She had spent the majority of this new year at Hogwarts hiding behind her curtain of hair, trying her best to remain entirely invisible. She was here to finish what her friends couldn’t. She would graduate. She would move on.

She just hadn’t expected the Malfoy boy to be part of the equation.

Clearing her throat, passing Sean a sidelong glance, Daphne then smirked and looked to the stars.

“I wouldn’t test your luck, Malfoy. The night is still young.”

-------------------

Their night quickly began to pass by as easy and as seamless as the lapping waves against the shore. She was surprised by how… effortless their conversation flowed with the stars as their only witness. Daphne teased him about his awkward pre-teen years and he never failed to laugh about the glasses she donned until her fourth year. There were no more talks of the war, of Parkison, or the unforgettable line between them. Blood meant so many things to so many people – it was nice to not have that burden hanging over them for once. She was a simple witch. He, a mere wizard.

Maybe that’s all they really wanted, in the end.

As he cursed at the time, their bubble of make-believe shattering and reeling them both back into reality, she rose after Sean, throwing her bag over her shoulder and eyed the looming castle in the distance. She could still see the faint glow of candlelight from a few of the windows, but she was sure that there were more than enough students still awake, even at this hour. Walking back in with a Slytherin, much less a Malfoy, would certainly start a slew of rumors and conclusions. Her eyes had been opened about him, but that didn’t mean the other students had been. And, even then, Daphne wondered how long the rose tinted veil for him would last.

Their footsteps weren’t hurried, not wanting to create any more noise than they needed, and she was surprised at how close their bodies remained along the path. She could feel every step he took, could smell the lingering, earthy scent of night on his clothing. Could even feel the warmth of his body with each graze of his arm against hers. At his playful whispers, she rolled her eyes. “Have a bit of courage, Malfoy.” She mimicked that same impish sparkle he had in his eyes as she followed him through the courtyard, their steps nearly silent, thanks to his charm.

Stepping into a dimly lit hall, Daphne continued towards the Gryffindor common room, nearly reaching the grand tower with the plethora of stairs that led to the infamous painting. No longer feeling Sean’s warm, presence behind her, she peered over a slim shoulder, only to find the Slytherin paused in the middle of the hall with a war very clearly raging in his mind.

Does she offer a departing word? Wave her hand goodbye? Gnawing at her bottom lip, she also stilled underneath the candlelight, about ready to put this night behind her and fall into old habits in the morning.

Except, Sean seemed to have other plans.

She tried to hide her shock as the boy continued towards her and then followed her lead up the tower. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest and she was thankful for the stone wall she brushed a hand against, offering its support. They reached one of the staircases, the rest of them moving and sliding against each other above, and she scoffed at his complaint. “Better than the dungeons,” Daphne grumbled, rolling her eyes.

Suddenly, a slew of hushed, frantic voices came from the staircase above, nearly hidden in the shadows. With brown eyes growing wide, she shot a look towards Sean, knowing exactly well that they could not afford another detention. There was a professor, clearly, and she heard the all too familiar Malfoy name leaving the tongue of another. A student, it sounded like. A student warning a professor. Her chest clenched at the revelation and she quickly snagged Sean’s hand, knowing that they needed to quickly hide for their own wellbeing, as well as for the student's. The anger and confusion etched onto Sean’s face was stark, even in the dim light. Even though they had spent hours together, trusting him did not come as easily as she had hoped. Perhaps it never would.

“Sean!” she hissed, tugging him towards the small, wooden door across from the staircase. “We need to leave!” Though, his feet were rooted in place, practically a collum of stone. Still, the voices continued and were growing closer. Daphne could feel her heartbeat hammering inside her ears as panic began to set in, her body now acting on instinct. “Sean, please!” She gave him a fierce tug that would have sent most toppling to the ground, but the Slytherin only stumbled towards her, his face contorted in a mixture of worry and awe. Throwing the small door open, she thrust herself inside of the… closet?

Malfoy followed behind, latching the door and sealing them inside the darkness.

Oh, Merlin.

She could feel every warm breath of his as it caressed her cheek, could feel the pounding of his own heart inside of his broad chest that stood flush to her own. Daphne swallowed, refusing to glance up and meet Sean’s eyes out of embarrassment. Her lips, were so close to his neck. Her hands brushed against his robes. Fuck. Shit. Even he must have been thrown off by their proximity, for she could feel his attempts at sinking against the stone wall, could hear the quickening of his breathing and a strained hitch in his breath.

Right, this was probably torture – being this close to her.

Trying to rein in her hurt, she let her eyes rest on his shoulder, blinking away the sharp, stinging sensation that pricked at her eyes. It was clear that he was annoyed. Frustrated even. Fine, then. She could open the closet door and shove the bastard out to the wolves for all she cared. Never again would she try and save the rich prick’s ass.

“Sorry,” she snapped, the sound harsh and near silent.

But, his panting didn’t fade. If anything, it grew more vigorous. More unrelenting as the air inside the closet became warm and stuffy. With the faint illumination that came through the crack of the door, she could see the clenched muscle of his jaw, how close her lips drifted to his skin. He felt hot – practically scalding – and there was a thin layer of sweat covering his pale face.

No, this was more than simple animosity brewing. Something was wrong.

“Hey, are you okay?” Daphne whispered into the dark, her eyes traveling from the rapid pulse in his neck to try and meet his eyes, only to find them squinted shut. As if he were in pain. This went on for minutes, until the voices outside of the closet faded deeper into the castle. The closet door flying open and Sean stumbling out like a wounded soldier was her only answer. No – no he was definitely not okay. Not as she saw his wand in a fierce grip in his hand and his now wide with…

She didn’t dare speak of the look that sunk into his features, twisting that near flawless face into something she had only witnessed once. And then every night in her nightmares. Her brows furrowed and her lips parted, as if to ask a question or make a statement, and yet she couldn’t find the words.

But, of course, he made up for the thick silence with a signature comeback of his own. In typical Malfoy fashion, tossing their… Well, whatever tonight was, out of the large, extravagant window. Leaving everything that had been acquired between them back in the depths of the lake. Perhaps that’s where it belonged, anyways.

Daphne blinked at the venom in his tone, as if she were wounded. All too quickly, she gathered her composure, her face twisting into a defense mechanism and turning into nothing but stone. “Right, you just prefer to use it on innocent students. My mistake, Malfoy.” A tinge of regret settled inside of her as soon as the words left her full lips, but she didn’t dare let it show. Of course… What they had both overheard was a big claim for a student to make. The revival of Death Eaters… of Malfoy’s father joining forces with them. He clearly looked troubled. Taken aback. And yet, she couldn’t get that image out of her mind. The passion in his eyes, his wand proudly gripped in his hand.

Forcing herself to turn away as he did, she continued towards the stairs and back to the common room, trying her best to ignore the echoing steps of Sean delving deeper and deeper into the shadows below. Them, both returning into their molds, and the demons that resided in them.

----------------------------

Marcus Flynn was an obnoxious chewer. And an even worse flirt.

Sleep did not come easy to Daphne last night. She had tossed and turned, not being able to throw away the images of pale blond hair in the moonlight. How, even after she changed, she had smelled of smoke. Of grass – of every reminder of her time with the Malfoy boy and how easily she allowed herself to lose her guard, only to find herself hurting when she was forced to throw it back up when their rendevous faded. She was stupid for believing things could have been different – for thinking that she and Sean could ever be on decent, damn near friendly, terms.

Still, it was the first night she had not seen the lifeless face of Zahra. Or Noah. Or Macy. And she didn’t know what to make of it.

However, what Daphne was certain about, was that the grip on her fork was tightening, that her palms were growing sweaty the more and more Marcus loomed over her. The auburn haired boy had the audacity to take a strand of her dark hair and wrap it around one of his fingers before giving it a tug. Behind him, she could hear the snickering of Lucille Penhurst and Kolby Roswell.

“So, Sanderson,” crooned Marcus, blue eyes igniting with amusement as he peered down at Daphne’s untouched food. The grip on her fork was purely self defense. If the fellow Gryffindor decided to entangle his hands in her hair once more, the prongs might end up in the idiot’s thigh. Or perhaps higher. Maybe a little towards the middle, even. “I heard a rumor that you and Malfoy were caught frolicking around the castle together. Hiding in the shadows. Closets, even.” His brows rose as a handsome, mischievous grin unfurled across his lips.

She didn’t say anything, refused to fall prey to his tactics. Even though her blood boiled and her cheeks were surely flushed.

Taking her silence as an admittance, Marcus continued. “Happy to see you’re no longer a walking corpse, Daph. Perhaps maybe sometime you and I could do a little exploring ourselves, hm?” More giggles erupted from behind him.

Her stomach churned, her gaze remained locked onto the breakfast spread before her. “Please,” she uttered, her voice strained and weak, unlike her fierce glare. A walking contradiction. “Leave me alone.”

Marcus leaned in, clearly not wanting his companions to eavesdrop. “C’mon, Daph. I know you and Noah were… something. But you can’t torture yourself any longer. I miss him too – all of them.” If it weren’t for his hidden intentions, she might have believed him. “It’s time to move on. They’re go –”

She pushed herself from the table, the wood groaning in response and her breakfast dishes clattering, cutting him off. For a moment, only silence ensued throughout the hall and she could feel the dozens of stares boring into her back as she rose. Breathing harshly through her nose, trying to cling to whatever composure she had left, Daphne glared at Marcus, and then at the others.

“Don’t you ever say that to me again,” she snapped, blinking away the tears. “Ever.”

Snagging her bag and tossing it onto her shoulder, she quickly rushed away from the Gryffindor table, passing the Slytherin one without lifting her eyes.

Until she felt a specific pair of eyes. Saw a flash of stark, nearly white hair. Only for a moment did she let her gaze flick towards Sean as a tear streamed down her face before she hurried out of the grand, double doors.

She let her feet carry her, her bag slapping against her leg as she jogged through blurred vision throughout the halls. She needed air – needed to no longer hear the laughter of students, to see her friends slowly and slowly grow forgotten as the others pressed forward. They should be here. With her. Celebrating their final year at Hogwarts. Instead, they were in the ground.

Once free from the walls of the castle and now in the same courtyard she had skipped class in, Daphne finally allowed a broken sob to escape, her chest rattling at the release. Her bag tumbled off her shoulder and into the grass, her body following shortly after. She was alone. Truly, irrevocably alone. That should have been Noah twirling her hair, should have been Zahra smirking and Macy giggling at her side. Everything else felt like a mockery of their existence and she just needed to fucking breathe. Last night was the closest she had felt to… To happiness in so long. And even that had an expiration date.

God, she felt like she was going to be sick.

Vaguely, she could hear footsteps approaching quickly in the soft grass, but she refused to lift her head. More warm tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to regain some sort of steady, even breathing.

A large, warm hand rested on her back. A smooth, recognizable voice hazily echoed throughout the courtyard, though, through her sobs, she couldn’t make out what Sean Malfoy had said.

There was something comforting about the vast loudness of silence. It was a feeling Sean had grown addicted to over the last year. Truthfully, he felt rather raw; like a festering wound that wouldn't heal. He could never admit it to anyone and as he watched Daphne curl into herself on the bank of the lake, he knew he would never allow her to know either. Admitting that he felt more alone in a castle full of people than he did in the solitude of his own head made him feel weak.

The lake was like a black mirror. Sean stretched as he sat down on the grass and peered out at the surface, imagining what horrors it had seen during the war. Had war planes reflected themselves off its bottomless darkness? Had the plane that dropped the bombs on his mother passed by here unaware of the magic beneath it; unaware of anything other than death and despair?

The sound of Daphne speaking yanked Sean from his thoughts and he blinked, turning to look at her as she spoke. Sean's forehead wrinkled at the question and he let out a breath, turning away from her pale face. He knew they were going to talk but he hadn't expected it to go like this, especially when he didn't have an actual answer. There was no hidden agenda in place, there was nothing to gain from his ludicrous sudden fascination with Daphne Sanders.

Sean patted his pockets until his fingers curled around the familiar square cardboard of his cigarettes. He pulled one out and pressed it between his teeth, fumbling his way through the tedious task of lighting a match. As he inhaled, he glanced sideways towards Daphne. Beneath the gaze of the moon she reminded him of a porcelain doll. Possibly a broken one at that.

"Do you remember back to our second year when I used Impedimenta on you several times one semester so you were always late for class?" Sean asked delicately. A tinge of guilt surrounded his tone, reminding him of a time when he wasn't exactly the kindest person. He didn't consider himself kind even now, although a part of him longed for the Hufflepuff characteristic. Inhaling a long drag from his cigarette Sean blew the smoke out and closed his eyes for a moment. His throat ached as he explained himself, longing for the bits of his childhood he had once taken for granted. "That Christmas when I went home to visit, my mother was livid with me. Several of our professors had written letters over the matter and that year I didn't receive any gifts. That Holiday break I spent the entire two weeks working at a Muggle soup kitchen outside of Wiltshire. My father was furious but it didn't matter because my mother's word was always the last between them."

Sean's voice cracked and he laughed a bit to cover the emotions rolling through him. He rolled his shoulders and sighed, inhaling more smoke. His fingers shook as he flicked ashes into the tenebrous lake in front of him.

"My mother was a healer for St. Mungo's. She was one of the best of her time and she could heal nearly anyone, no matter the situation. When the war first started, she healed witches and wizards injured nearby. But as the war got increasingly worse she took to traveling, healing those who were trapped by the battles raging around them. The things she saw, they must have left rotting holes inside of her."

Sean had watched his mother change. Once, during a tutoring session, she had returned home after months of service reeking of pain and destruction. She had seemed so strange then, like a stranger trapped in a body he couldn't recognize. She was skinnier with a hint of gray in her hair that had never been there before. It had been obvious she was working herself to the bone back in London and yet at the manor she had rambled on about how she wasn't doing enough. How the wizarding world wasn't doing enough to protect the children of England. Of Europe.

"She eventually left St. Mungo's to pick up work at a Muggle field hospital directly in the war zone. She used her magic under the most utter secrecy to heal those who couldn't be healed by a surgeon's hands. She believed that everyone was important, that it didn't matter if you were born a Pureblood or a halfblood. She didn't care if someone was non-magical. She thought that being magic was a gift better shared. She died when a bomb fell on to the hospital and her body was never recovered. My mother died in a war that she could have avoided but instead fought against because she felt she was doing what was right."

The ache was stronger. A dull throb at the back of his throat that begged for a release Sean was incapable of giving. He breathed in deeply and tossed his cigarette into the air, the tip of his wand pointed at the falling butt. "Incendio." He whispered, watching it blaze brightly before disintegrating into a small rain of ash. When he turned to face Daphne again his eyes were once again cages used to trap everything inside; lock and key.

"So to answer your question Sanders, it's because I don't support the belief that I am better than you. Although, technically, my grades are better than yours. And," he teased, a faint smirk curling the side of his mouth. "You're much better to look at than most of the Slytherin house. It also doesn't help that I've clearly been crashing my way through my entire friend group in the matter of twenty four hours, so realistically I have no actual friends left. I'm sure Parkinson has gathered an entire mob for my return to the common rooms and I'll be lucky if I don't find myself hexed by morning. Possibly even cursed. Tell me, would you still converse with me if I had boils the size of Jupiter all over my beautiful angelic face?"

Now with a full blown smile dancing across his lips Sean leaned back, his arms tucked behind his head. "What about you?" He asked, watching Daphne. His blue eyes scanned over her face and down to the elegant way her chin rested against her knee caps. "Why haven't you told me to go fuck myself yet?" He questioned curiously.

The hour passed without acknowledgement from either of them. They talked, skipped rocks, and at one point argued over the consultation of the stars. It was easy and peaceful, a distraction Sean hadn't experienced in two years. For just a brief moment by the edge of the Black Lake he felt like a Hogwarts Student again. He felt normal. Somewhere in the distance the sound of owls screeching alerted Sean that it was getting later than they realized. He glanced at his watch and hissed, scrambling up from the grass.

"Shit it's nearly midnight." Sean groaned, dusting off his clothes. He picked his wand up and slipped it away before looking up the hills towards the dimly lit castle. How in the hell was he going to get them back to their dorms without being seen? Especially since Daphne had to literally talk to a painting to enter hers. Gryfinndors, fucking ridiculous.

For a moment Sean considered the possibility of sleeping outside but knew it would cause them both too much gossip. By morning, the entire student body would know and the rumors would get ugly, fast.

"Let's just stick to the shadows." Sean sighed, already moving parallel to the path. He walked so close to Daphne that his arm brushed against her shoulders with nearly every step. As they neared the main entrance of the castle Sean paused, turning to look down at Daphne. "Know any special spells? Mainly for invisibility?" He joked in a hoarse whisper. Leaning to peer around the stone courtyard, Sean watched for shadows of anyone moving near the door. There were several caretakers he didn't want to run into, most of which spent the majority of their time roaming the halls.

"Muffliato." He whispered, barely removing his wand from his pocket. He wasn't sure how well that spell worked for footsteps, but it was worth the try. "Come on." He whispered, sliding his body around the corner and through the slightly cracked front doors.

The hall was lit with candles and Sean paused to observe his surroundings. It was eerily empty this time of night and the soft snore of paintings echoed through the walls. Although he knew he was risking receiving months of detentions, Sean didn't necessarily feel right leaving Daphne to wander to the Gryfindor tower alone. So, instead of turning towards the staircase leading down, he moved with her going up. Each step seemed to sound amplified and he found himself physically wincing with every move they made.

"Why are there so many stairs going to your stupid tower?" Sean whispered breathlessly as the pair of them stepped onto the fifth floor. The stairs had begun their cycle of rotating and Sean watched, waiting impatiently for the movements to stop. He felt hyper aware of everything and the feeling was rather thrilling. Blood pumped through his ears and his heart pounded loudly. He felt alive, sneaking through the shadows, and this realization scared him. Why did he always feel alive when he was doing the wrong thing? Just as he stepped forward to take the next flight of stairs up, voices drifted from below them. Sean shot a quick look at Daphne before pressing his finger slowly to his lips.

"I know that I am probably quite mistaken, Professor." The voice drifted, the clatter of heavy footsteps echoing against the hallowed hallway beside them. "But from what it sounds like, you seem to agree with Mr. Malfoy and the hatred he has been spreading across this continent. Something dark has been brewing at Durmstrang since this war ended and I will not stand by and watch the same for Hogwarts. I am telling you what I know I saw. As someone who fought in the war at Hogwarts, I think I would know."

Sean's entire face flushed a deep shade of scarlet at the mention of his father and he strained to hear the voices: to recognize who was speaking. The steps got louder and Sean was vaguely aware of Daphne pulling at his arm to move, to hide, and yet Sean couldn't stop eavesdropping. His feet were planted to the ground with the immense desire to know everything that was being said.

"And I am telling you this as a friend Mrs. Lovegood, if you start going around waking teachers up in the middle of the night carrying on about death eaters in the front lawn, Mrs. McGonigail is going to think you've lost your mind. You're here to study and chart the creatures at Hogwarts and report the impact the solitude during the war had on them and that is all. As for Mr. Malfoy I do not know what you are implying. His son goes to this school for Merlin's beard."

The voices were now no more than a few steps below them. As if waking from a trance Sean shuffled his feet and followed Daphne as she darted them through the first door they could find. It was a small room, possibly one used for the storage of brooms and cleaners, and Sean found he could barely shut the door behind himself. His body pressed against Daphne's and his elbow knocked painfully against a shelf. "Fuck." He breathed out in a gruff whisper, bending his head down to keep cobwebs out of his hair. His heart was racing and he closed his eyes as the echo of steps moved towards the door.

He couldn't see Daphne in front of him, but he could smell the soft fragrances of shampoo and grass in her hair. With each heavy rise and fall of his chest he could feel her warmth, the curve of her body, the exhale of her own breath against his shoulder. This was bad, very, very, very bad. He gripped the wall behind them and his fingers clenched painfully against the stone. Being this close to anyone was nothing more than torture.

There had been a time where Sean had craved that intimacy. A time when he would have gladly pulled any girl into a tight place with urgency and sloppy hands. A time when he may have even considered being in this closet with Vicky Fletcher. But not now, not with anyone, not when he feared that close contact with anyone would send his exterior breaking to pieces and revealing who he really was, not when it was Daphne Sanders. And most certainly not when he had heard the mention of Death Eaters and his father in the same sentence.

The steps faulted right outside the door for a moment and Sean could make out incoherent bits of conversation drifting through the dingy wood. Sweat clung to the collar of his shirt and he began to pray to any god or ghost alike for them not to be caught, not like this. His mind raced and his wand felt warm in his pocket, too warm. Sean's free hand instantly grabbed the handle and pulled it free, his nose twitching as static electricity rose the hairs on his arms.

Several minutes that felt stretched into centuries passed before the footsteps carried on and a door banged closed somewhere too far to pinpoint. Sean let out a deep breath and practically ripped himself free from the closet, stumbling several steps as he freed himself from the confined space. His left foot felt like it had gone to sleep and Sean bounced on his heel to wake it. His wand, forgotten in his haste, was still clutched in his hand. It wasn't until he followed the questionable stares of Daphne that he realized how it probably looked to her.

"I would never use magic on a teacher." He gritted out defensively. "So do not give me that glare you're so good at hocking out at people."

Sean shifted as he spoke. He caught a fleeting reflection of himself in a brass coat of armors nearby, the purple eye glowing beside his blue one. He waved his wand and shot out the incantation from Transfiguration, watching as his iris swirled in color before melting back to his normal iced blue. He turned, a sneer covering his face, and shoved his way past Daphne. "Go to your dorm and try not to get caught. I need to get back to the Dungeons. Now." He snapped, already descending the stairs. He didn't even bother to glance back at the girl standing alone behind him. He didn't stop or pause or care if someone else was around to catch him. The laughter he so freely gave earlier had evaporated and in its place a familiar frown had taken back it's typical role. There was only one thought circulating in his mind and on the tip of his tongue.

There had been Death Eaters outside the castle tonight and one of them had possibly been his father.

She wondered how Sean was able to do it – to have his stare prominent enough to where she could feel it throughout the entirety of the castle. Like a ghost. Like a curse. His blue eyes, so clear up close and yet never revealing any secrets, followed her around the rest of her day. Even in Transfigurations, another class in which they shared, she was hardly able to keep herself focused on the task at hand because of his incessant watching. The boy had no shame – he was a Malfoy, after all. He probably thought he could do as he pleased. She paid no mind to the lightness about him as he whisked her through the hidden halls of Hogwarts, and her hand still itched where his own had sat against her skin. Like a brand.

Still, she was not surprised that her eyes had changed into a cool blue as the transfiguration spell left her lips. She knew who those eyes belonged to, who had invaded her mind at the perfect time.

Vicky Fletcher sat next to her, her face screwed in a mixture of determination, as well as frustration. The poor girl was able to change her hair into the color of a Gillyweed, and yet her eyes remained the same golden hazel. Daphne was by no means friends with her, but it was the seat that was positioned the farthest away from Sean. She was half tempted to ask the other girl about her run in with Sean earlier, simple morbid curiosity, but after a slew of pitched expletives left Vicky’s mouth, well, Daphne knew how to read a room. She wasn’t a fan of running from her problems, there was once a time when she would put on a brave face and stick it out, but she was different now. Everything was different now. Trying to distract herself with measly transfigurations or Vicky Fletcher wouldn’t change that.

But, God, did he have to keep staring?

Suddenly, a chair squeaking against the stone floor cut through the classroom, silencing the timid fits of laughter and mumbled discussions taking place. Half of the students only looked like a fraction of themselves, and yet there was no mistaking the tall, broad form that fled the room. Daphne saw a sliver of white hair as Sean turned the corner and into the hall. Curiosity nipped at her like frost, but as Vickey Fletcher let out a cackle, shaking her ivy-colored hair, she realized that Sean Malfoy’s problems weren’t her own. That it was best not to dwell on him. Besides, she would be seeing him later, anyways. Though hopefully, he would be able to keep those icy eyes to himself when the time came around. She wasn’t a fan of how the weight of his gaze made her stomach curl.

Or how she could still feel the lingering press of his hand in hers.

—--------------------------

Daphne Sanderson had only received one other detention in her life. The first was in her Fourth year, after she, Zahra, and Macy were caught passing around a joint filled with some dried plant Noah snatched from the greenhouse. While her mind, and body, were continuously fuzzy for that entire night, she remembered detention fairly well. It was spent reshelving far too many books inside of the library – enough to where her arms hurt for the remainder of the week. And yet, it hadn’t really felt like detention at all. Books were a solace she still sought out, even after the war. There were a few she strayed away from, especially some of Zahra’s favorites, but parchment and ink were her only saving grace. She just wished she had the comfort of novels to get her through tonight.

Especially since Lazar Parkinson and Meredith Woodcroft hadn’t been able to keep their hands off of each other the entire time. Or their tongues, for that matter.

Even as she diligently tried to shine the bludger in her lap, which was about as excruciating as listening to the moans and heavy breathing of Lazar and Meredith, her mind was still not focused on the task at hand. She was too aware of the space between Sean and herself, how he had followed and sat across from her to shine his own pieces of equipment without any invitation to.

"I need to talk to you about the tunnel,” came Sean’s voice, sounding exactly like the crunch of gravel, barely even audible over the sounds of heavy petting, not even fifteen paces away. While her polishing rag stilled on the bludger for a moment, Daphne did not react any further to his words. All she wanted was to get tonight over and done with as soon as possible. It was clear as day that lingering around Sean Malfoy would only bring her more trouble. She was impulsive at times, but she was not an idiot.

He rattled off again, oddly enough begging for her silence this time around. She was about ready to toss the oiled rag in his smug face when a bark of laughter, coming from Parkinson, overruled whatever he was about to say. Her eyes flicked to the pair, watching Meredith roll her hips over Lazar’s groin with breathy moans, before scoffing audibly and shaking her head in disgust. Lazar was a sleaze, and while Daphne didn’t know Meredith well, she knew that her fascination with the Slytherin wouldn’t last. Her heart would be shattered, soon enough.

This time, she did acknowledge Sean as he grumbled about the ridiculousness of the situation and Daphne couldn’t help but to agree. She sighed and gave the boy a nod, “I’m not cleaning their share, either.”

Obviously growing more annoyed with the pair, Lazar reared back his face from where his mouth was sucking onto Meredith’s neck. Daphne’s eyes strayed from the Slytherin boy to lock onto the fresh, red bruise across the Hufflepuff’s skin, how her eyes were half-lidded and cheeks flushed. Anything pertaining to romance or intimacy hadn’t even crossed her mind since the war – not that she had much experience with it to begin with. The only touches she had ever received from a boy was from Killian Marshall a few years ago after a Ravenclaw party. He was sloppy and irrevocably drunk, though it was nothing more than a few minutes of him reaching under her skirt. Other than that one instance, she was uneducated in the art of intimacy. If that’s what you could call what Meredith and Lazar were doing, considering they acted as if they were putting on a show for Sean and Daphne to watch.

She ignored Lazar’s insults, as well as Sean’s attempt to deflect the boy with his nonchalant answer. Words from Lazar Parkison were almost always sour, but thankfully it offered her to grow a thick skin, nearly immune from the weight of them. Daphne tried to continue her work, scrubbing the beater ferociously, and praying that the flush on her cheeks wasn’t visible beneath her curtain of hair. Her fingers tightened on the rag as Lazar went on, claiming she was nothing but a lost puppy trailing after Malfoy helplessly. The small quips and jabs she could handle.

But, as Lazar brought up the war, Daphne froze.

The rag fell from her fingers and her eyes locked onto the floor. Her entire form went rigid and she swore that if she grit her teeth anymore they would crumble from the force. Meredith’s gasp was nothing but a whisper as a dull roar invaded her mind, drowning out the rest of Parkinson’s words and leaving Daphne to fall into herself, as she had done so many times before.

All your little friends dead…

Her throat grew thick, eyes beginning to burn with what she knew were tears out of anger, but they still felt like nothing but a crutch, unveiling her weakness to the entire world. She blinked, pushing back the tears, but still refusing to look Lazar in the eye. Even as the Slytherin rose from his position, after Meredith fled from his lap and out of the room, she continued to remain in her crouched, feeble form.

Weak. She was weak. And she always would be. Running from her problems instead of facing them head on. Like a coward.

A muscle feathered in her jaw as her eyes locked onto Lazar’s polished shoes, but she still remained rooted to the ground. Vaguely, she was aware of Sean standing, of him shoving their supplies into lockers and his hissed words like venom towards his fellow Slytherin. The oiled rag lifted from where it fell onto the floor, as well as the bludger she was polishing.

And yet all she saw were her friends lying lifeless on the ground. Blood spilling from their ears, their mouth. Their lifeless eyes staring back at her accusingly.

Merlin, she was going to vomit.

She wasn’t sure why she followed Sean so willingly, though Daphne wasn’t too thrilled that she considered his presence a haven from Lazar’s. Only days ago she had smothered them into the same box, cut from the same cloth. While it was evident that perhaps Sean didn’t use his tongue as a weapon like Lazar had done, she still didn’t feel entirely safe with him.

Though, would she really ever feel safe again?

That question hung in the air, looming over her as she followed him out of the building. Night greeted her, cooling her red cheeks and bringing a welcomed breeze to the sweat that began to form across the nape of her neck. As Sean handed Daphne her bag, she finally rose her eyes from the ground. Gazing at him. “He’s always been vile,” she muttered, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder while embarrassment filled her. As he brought up Meredith, Daphne only shook her head in disappointment. “She should respect herself more.” It wasn’t her shaming the girl for wanting the erotic touches from a boy – bloody hell Daphne found herself craving those touches at times. It was the fact that Meredith preferred that escape over her own self worth. She had to have known what Lazar thought about her family, was a bit of sex with a slug like him worth the heartbreak afterward?

Maybe that’s why Daphne never allowed herself that sort of vulnerability. Or maybe she just hadn’t found the right one to give herself to.

Meeting Sean’s gaze as he asked her about the Black Lake, her eyes briefly darted to the flat surface of the water, how the moonlight covered it in an enticing, contradicting sheen. Only a fool would be dumb enough to wade out into its depths at night, no matter how ethereal it may seem.

She should turn him down, but the threat of making her way through the shadowed corners of the grounds alone slithered up her spine. Even though having Sean Malfoy for company was about as alluring as the lake – beautiful on the surface and yet treacherous beneath – she wasn’t drowning just yet. She could remain surface level with him. Just until her racing heart slowed and the effects of Lazar’s vicious tongue ebbed away.

As he rattled off nonsense about detention, how she wouldn’t be contradicting herself by following him, Daphne’s dark eyes lightened slightly while a genuine smile fiddled across Sean’s lips. It wasn’t filled with malice as she had expected. Just simple, pure curiosity. The discovery was alarming, but it urged her feet towards him and the lake. “If you don’t stop talking,” she started, mischief brimming behind her eyes, “I might feed you to the Grindylow myself.” She then began to stride past him, leading the way down to the grassy shore of the lake, her back turned to the Malfoy boy. “And your struggle in Transfigurations wasn’t exactly easy to forget. You have the knack to be dramatic, Malfoy.” With an impish glare thrown over her shoulder at him, she sat down in the dew ridden grass, tossing her bag at her side. “Besides, if this hour doesn't go well, I think I might be the one handing myself to the squid. So, you and your violet eye better make it worth my while.”

Was she… toying with him? Of course, she was putting on a brave face, pretending that the lingering effects of what had happened in the Quidditch room had washed away, when they were still in fact clinging to her like a shadow. But the playful lilt to his tone and now her own made it easier. Daphne was positive that they had absolutely nothing in common, but pretending was a distraction she desperately needed, at the moment.

Once he sat next to her, she curled her knees towards her chest before wrapping her thin arms around her legs. For a moment she waded in the quiet that settled between them – only the soft lapping of the lake and the gentle song of crickets keeping them company. Daphne hated the dead silence, for it was when her own thoughts began to scream so, so loud. Even if it was the simple, steady breaths of Malfoy’s breathing or the song of the Black Lake, she was thankful for the reticence, nonetheless. It was at this proximity that she really saw the changes two years could do to someone. How his shoulders were broader, how his nearly white hair was slightly longer on the top though still short on the sides. So familiar and yet also so much like a ghost. She didn’t know him. She didn’t want to know him.

Well, that’s what she thought, anyway.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked softly, gazing out into the water as her chin rested on a knee. They weren’t friends, were never anything close to friends. Daphne understood that the war changed people, maybe her more than anyone, but she didn’t think it could do the impossible by urging a friendship between her and a Malfoy. They were nothing but oil and water. “Inviting me to the lake, defending me in front of Parkinson… Speaking to me in general.”

It was then she turned to him, eyeing his face half hidden by shadows, half illuminated by the moon. It was gentle, damn near tolerable, actually. “I think this is the most we have talked to each other in years. You seemed perfectly happy in your corner of – of power, with the occasional brooding.” While she stayed in her own, surrounded by her three friends, the only people she’s ever needed in her life. Without them, Daphne wasn’t sure where she belonged. Maybe that was on the shore of the Black Lake with Sean Malfoy, or maybe it wasn’t at Hogwarts at all.

“I’m not sure I like it…” It was true.

But what she didn’t say was that maybe she was starting to.

Detention. Sean hated detention. As he watched Daphne disappear around a corner, a small part of him blamed her for getting them caught. He couldn't hold it against her for not trusting him enough to scramble through some ancient pitch black tunnel but still, if she had just dunked inside with him they wouldn't have to spend their entire night rubbing equipment down with wood oil. With a sigh Sean nudged the statue shut and began to walk the other way. "Better late than never." He mutter, making the long walk down to Herbology.

The rest of the day seemed to go by in a blur. Several times during a History of Magic Sean caught himself wondering if it would get back to his father that he was serving detention tonight. Would his father, who was never really home anymore, even care? Would he send a letter stating his disappointment or would he find comfort in knowing that Sean couldn't keep himself out of trouble. Like father, like son. The thoughts made him think of his mother and in turn, made him feel hollow.

Transfigurations was no better. It was class he shared with Daphne and Sean caught himself staring at her over and over. His spell work, which had always been perfect, was all over the place. Today was self-transfiguration, where each student was supposed to transfigure their eyes into other colors. The only thing Sean had managed to do was turn one eye unnaturally purple while the other stayed blue. "Damn it." He snapped after the third attempted, tossing his wand down on his desk.

"You know, Cedarwood wands are very bonded with their owners. You should try to even out your emotions and then maybe it would work." The small girl next to Sean mumbled, her black hair a halo of curls around her head. Sean sneered at her, his lips curled. "I don't need a Ravenclaw's help." He snapped in a low whisper. The girl shrugged and glanced at him, her eyes orange. "Fine." She answered, making it a point to look between both his eyes before turning away. Anger boiled underneath Sean's skin and he clenched his fist before standing. He gathered his things not caring whose attention he caught. As he left the classroom he could swear the laughter of Vicky Fletcher echoed behind him.

That night the Quidditch locker rooms were nearly empty. Sean carried his wand in one hand and an apple in the other as he observed the small building. He had completely skipped dinner and his stomach ached, but it was far better than having to explain his outburst to everyone at his table.

A strong hand clamped down on his shoulder and Sean whirled around with his wand pointed. "Hey, calm down before you put my eye out Malfoy." A deep voice teased, the shadowed face cracking into a smirk. Sean recognized the hallowed cheek bones and sharp jaw line instantly, the face of Lazar Parkinson. Sean let out a breath before lowering his wand. "Sorry." He muttered, offering the other a cigarette.

"No worries but seriously, who else were you expecting? The war still have you jumpy?" Lazar asked, lighting the end of his coffin nail with the tip of his wand. Sean shrugged, watching the smoke morph in front of him into the form of a serpent. "Well, at least I'm not the only one with detention. Professor Hooch was in a mood, really. Caught me and Meredith Woodcroft getting busy in a supply closet. She was furious, wanted to take us to Headmaster McGonagall. Old hags, the both of them."

Sean furrowed his brow, an expression of confusion flooding his face. He looked at Lazar who didn't seem to notice or care. "Meredith Woodcroft. Isn't she a Hufflepuff and a half-blood?" Sean asked skeptically.

Lazar shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. "Mudblood actually. Both her parents are humans, or were. Apparently they both died sometime last year. But it doesn't really matter to me. It's her snatch I'm really after. If I have to ever fuck Vicky Fletcher again I'm going to kill myself. She's about worn out, too many miles on that thing. But Meredith, she was a virgin."

With a laugh Lazar flicked his cigarette away and rolled his shoulders. "Come on. Let's hurry up and get this done so we can get back. The boys are all playing Exploding Snap tonight in the dorms. I have gold on the fact I'll win every round."

Sean sat on a bench, a stack of shining Beater bats next to him. Daphne sat in front of him and Sean paused to watch her shine a Bludger, which wasn't as easy as it looked. The balls were covered in smudges and scratches. Leaning forward Sean cleared his throat, speaking lowly. "I need to talk to you about the tunnel."

When she ignored him he leaned back up grabbing another bat. He rubbed it down and sighed under his breath. "I'm serious. Please do not tell a single soul about it. It's not something I want everyone in the school using. It's very important that you don't because.."

Behind them the echoing laughter of Lazar drowned out what Sean was about to say. Casting a look behind him he scrunched his nose up at the sight. Lazar sat on a bench surrounded by equipment and in his lap sat Meredith. With a roll of his eyes Sean turned back to face Daphne. "Why professor Hooch thought giving them unmonitored detention was the best, I don't know." He muttered. That's all the two had been doing since all four of them had divided the balls and bats between them.

"Hey Sean. You didn't tell me how you and that loser ended up in detention together." Lazar called over to him. Sean stiffened and his gaze flickered across Daphne's face at the term loser. Meredith made a noise in her throat that Sean guessed was probably a protest. "I ran into her while skipping Herbology." Sean answered flatly, not bothering to look back at his friend.

"Yes, but how did you two end up together." Lazar continued, now pushing Meredith off of him. His shoes tapped against the floor as walked to stand behind Sean. "I know you well Malfoy. I'm sure you dipped the moment you caught wind of a teacher. Did poor little Daphne follow you like a little lost puppy? I heard half the muggle-born students died. Drafted in the war. Isn't that right? All your little friends dead so now you have to follow around a pure-blood?" Lazar taunted. Behind the four of them Meredith gasped, standing so fast she knocked several Quaffles down. A wave of pity for her flowed through him, remembering what Lazar had said about her parents. The sound of a door banging told him she had left the room.

Sean chewed into his lip, his knuckles white as he clenched the bat in his hand. Lazar ignored any signs that he was bothering everyone and he didn't turn to watch Meredith leave. He moved like smoke around Sean and now stood staring down at Daphne. Before he could begin another jab at her Sean stood. He gathered what was polished and shoved it into lockers and cases. "I don't know about you Lazar, but I'm trying to get all of this done. So can you please stop harassing Sanders and put your shit up." He snapped, waving his wand so everything in front of Daphne rose and began to file itself away. Not waiting for Lazar to react Sean nodded towards Daphne. "Let's go." He commanded, grabbing her bag from the floor.

The night air was crisp and Sean waited in the shadow of the building for Lazar to disappear over the hill. Without comment he handed Daphne her bag. "Sometimes I struggle understanding why I ever liked him so much." He confessed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black dress pants.

"Truthfully, I've been avoiding him since we returned. His father spent a great deal of time at my manor house over the summer. To see him tonight with Meredith Woodcroft is every bit bizarre."

The watch on Sean's wrist told him it was nearly nine. That was an hour sooner than detention was supposed to end. He turned, searching Daphne's face. "Do you want to go down to the water?" He asked, his voice losing it's typical confidence. He had no clue exactly what he was doing, only that he didn't want to be alone. He also dreaded having to return to his common room or the dorm he shared with Lazar. He knew the other was furious with him for stopping the torment he wanted to inflict.

"I know that you said to leave you alone after detention, but before you give me an answer about hanging out, just know it's technically still detention hours. So you won't be breaking your own word." He mumbled out, the smallest hint of a smile curling the corner of his mouth. "Plus I swear I won't feed you to the Grindylow." He added, taking a step back towards the path leading to the Black Lake. "There's also a giant squid in there somewhere. You could drown me as a sacrifice. Get me out of my misery, I won't mind. It would save me a great deal of struggling in transfigurations. I don't know if you noticed or not, but one of my eyes have been purple since four o'clock."

Daphne wasn’t sure if anything could crack the impenetrable mold that Sean Malfoy armed himself with – something just as menacing as a wall of thorns, and about nearly as deadly. She had been so used to the look of indifference, and also the cold-blooded frown that sometimes graced his features, that seeing anything but was shocking enough to make her movements pause, her face furrow in confusion.

However, the moment didn’t last long, practically a split second, before he once again lashed out. He stood over her now, venom lacing his tone as she tried to ignore the putrid smell of smoke as he tossed the cigarette’s remnants between their feet. Her nose twisted from the stench, but it was his words that made her stomach churn.

Was that what she was? A ticking timebomb for her own demise? The reality and weight of his truth lingered in the silence as he turned over his shoulder, clearly dismissing her. With her cheeks flaming hot and vicious words just waiting to be unleashed sitting at the tip of her tongue, Daphne sent a glare his way, boring into his back and broad shoulders like a brand. A small, foolish part of her had hoped that Sean and all of the other pureblood’s opinions could have swayed, ever so slightly, after the war. And even though he claimed to have differing views from his family, it was hard to believe a damned word that tumbled out of his stupid mouth.

She scoffed and shook her head, onyx waves nearly shielding her face as she did so. “My people?” That solidified his views of her then – she was no Witch, could never be one if all he associated her with was the muggle blood that belonged to her father, and now ran through her. While she wasn’t ashamed of him, she was just as much a Witch as Sean was a Wizard. Half-muggle blood and all.

Though, as he picked up his wand, her own felt heavy in the pocket of her robes. She had grown to be pretty confident at dueling, especially with having to grow numb to it after the war, and Defense Against the Dark Arts was her favorite class. Protecting herself with magic when her own words had continued to fail her was her specialty and she wouldn’t hesitate on retaliating if Malfoy decided to throw a hex her way.

There was a brief and yet substantial pause in the air, as if even Hogwarts was awaiting what would happen next between the two foes. And yet, after a hitched breath from Daphne and her fingers resting on her wand, Sean placed his wand inside of his pocket and continued scanning the flowers for his pet.

The clicking of heels against stone made her eyes dart past Sean’s obscenely large shoulder, taking note of the approaching shadow of a figure. Shit. Sean’s hiss barely covered up the echo of the oncoming professor, but it relieved some part of her that, even as a powerful pureblood, he was afraid of a little reprimanding. So, even though it would have been thrilling to watch the boy’s ass being handed to him, Daphne also couldn’t afford to add detention onto her still growing piles of missed schoolwork. Though, just as she was about to quickly rush away, leaving him in the courtyard without another word, a firm hand snagged onto her elbow.

“What are you –” she snapped lowly, eyes growing wide as he began to drag her out of the courtyard and back into the halls. Alarm sat prevalent across her face as she was forced into a jog in order to keep up with Sean’s ridiculously long legs. Her bag clapped awkwardly at her side and as his grip on her arm traveled lower, lacing his hand with hers, Daphne attempted to tug it out of his unrelenting grip. Professor Hooch shouted behind them and she couldn’t ignore the battle ringing through her mind. Facing the wrath of Hooch might be better than slinking through the shadowed halls with Sean Malfoy. Even though the professor was a sour, cranky old thing, she was fair and safe and she wasn’t sure if she could say the same about him.

Still trying to wriggle her hand free of his, even as he dragged her up a set of stairs while she cursed his family name, his pet, and his blinding white hair, she couldn’t help the realization that, even though Sean was a rotten soul, he was at least thorough in his escape plan. So, as they now stood face to face and slightly out of breath on the third floor, Daphne took a minute to collect her thoughts.

Right before she unveiled her wand, aiming it right at his smug face.

“What the hell are you playing at, Malfoy?” she hissed as they stood before the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor. The hall was dark, practically forgotten inside of the grand castle. She was no stranger to hiding out on the small nooks and crannies she found inside Hogwarts, Daphne preferred her solitude, but even she couldn’t deny the chill that crept up her spine as the severity of her situation sank in.

She was alone. With a Malfoy.

His answer was only a whispered charm before the rumble of stone against stone shrieked through the silence. The witch’s form was now gone, in its place was a grand and yet dark tunnel. Reflexively, she then turned her wand towards the passage, her grip tightening as she did so. Her body was so taut and ready for anything that dared to slither out from the shadows, that she hadn’t realized her hand was still engulfed by Sean’s. Only when he released his hold did a faint flush highlight her cheeks. Damn Slytherin’s.

Daphne watched him step into the tunnel, though her own feet remained planted at the entrance. Like hell was she going to follow him in there. Sean walked through with a sense of wonder and yet familiarity across his face, as if he were proving a point to himself. “You’ve been here before?” she asked him softly, eyes scanning the entrance for any sign of danger. However, her question must have gotten lost within the darkness, for she received no answer. His face was… different, somehow. Less edged, more free.

Light suddenly hit her as he began to move back towards the mouth of the tunnel, facing her once more. She blinked away the light and grimaced at him, but reluctantly answered. “No, I didn’t even know this existed.” As he mentioned another using the passage, her eyes flicked to his, seeing the concern that sat behind them. Daphne was surprised at the effect it had on her, seeing the infamous Malfoy prodigy looking completely out of his wits. She could get used to it.

“To be honest, the statue had always given me the creeps.”

Still refusing to budge from her position, she merely shook her head and lowered her wand to her side. As if a light flicked on inside his mind, reminding him of the precarious predicament they were in, she saw the boy become warier. An awkward silence sat between them again and Daphne hesitantly took a step away from the tunnel. A sense of unease that she figured she would always feel around a pureblood began to cave in, making her throat thick and her palms sweaty. Knowing better than to linger and to trust her gut, she just about opened her mouth to excuse herself and leave Sean to his shadows…

Until something she had never expected to come out of a Malfoy’s mouth cut through the air.

An apology.

A hand rested on the stone wall, her dark eyes widened and she knew her face was washed in a sheet of surprise. Blinking once, Daphne eyed him as the words slowly began to stiffly tumble from his lips – like a child beginning to walk. All her life she had refused to fall into the cataclysmic mess that was Sean and his family. She avoided him any chance she could, as well as most of the others inside the school, but even more so after the war. Hearing the smallest bit of sincerity in his voice, mixed in with his rigid posture and legacy, well, he was the biggest contradiction.

There was a beat before she began to speak, and yet her words were just as mudded as his own. “Thanks,” she started, though she knew she needed to offer more, and her stomach rolled at the thought of it. “I’m, um, sorry too.” Still, the words felt hollow. Was she truly sorry? After everything the divide between them had caused? The death… The betrayal… Daphne wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, certainly like he was doing with her, and yet falling into his mercy felt like nothing but a sin.

“I really should get back –”

“Sanderson! Malfoy!” came an all too familiar voice, one that she thought they had evaded for good.

Professor Hooch, looking as if smoke could shoot from her ears at any moment. Daphne could already see the flames brewing behind those golden eyes of hers and her stare rooted her feet in place as the professor neared them. Out of sheer nerves alone, she snuck a glance at Malfoy, wondering if he would tuck tail and run again, leaving her to face the consequences alone.

“Hello, Professor,” she uttered.

Hooch merely batted her words away before pointing a long finger at them both. “I was going to give you two the benefit of the doubt the first time, but seeing as how you wanted to play a meager game of tag, I’m not feeling as forgiving, anymore.” While the Witch had always been a fair, if not stern individual, the hawk-like features across her face were sharp with fury. She already knew what would tumble out of the professor’s mouth next.

“Detention. Both of you. The Quidditch equipment could use a little…” her eyes flicked to Sean, “polishing.” Clearing her throat, she adjusted her robes, rolled those yellow eyes before briskly leaving the pair as quickly as she had arrived. “Absolutely ridiculous,” she mumbled. “Eight o’clock and not a minute later!”

Perfect. Fucking perfect. Not that Daphne had any sort of plans tonight, but the idea of spending yet another prolonged amount of time with the Slytherin boy made her skin prickle with an invisible chill. Turning over her shoulder, crossing her arms as she did so, she shot Sean a glare before adjusting the strap of her bag.

“After tonight, just…” she shook her head, seconding guessing herself as she began to leave him at the statue, her footsteps echoing in the now empty hall.

“Just leave me alone.”

His father's bloody reputation? For just a moment, a split second, Sean's face registered a look of hurt. He tried to mask it, cover it up, push it away. For the second time today he felt judged by the world around him. Vicky, Daphne, it was suddenly like if he wasn't a wounded horse he was a cold blooded snake.  It was always either I'm sorry your mother died or your father is evil. It reminded him of what he saw five years ago in the Boggart.  It had been during defence against the dark arts, third year. The class had piled around, the Slytherins ecstatic for their chances to see others exposing their weaknesses and the Gryfinndors pushing each other around for the opportunity to be publicly brave. Sean had stood near the back watching the Boggart transform itself. A hufflepuff girl whose name he didn't know saw herself as an old hag. A Slytherin guy named Harvey saw himself in prison shackles. There had even been a tornado that had briefly thrown books around the room before turning itself into leaves. When it was his turn he had horsed around with his friends before standing to stare at the chest. He had expected to see himself wearing orange and black robes or possibly the ghostly figure of his great grandfather, Luscious Mallfoy. Instead, he simply saw himself; a mirrored image with a cold smirk. In his hand his wand waved, raised with green glows flowing freely from its curved tip. It had been the most unsettling thing he had ever witnessed and afterwards he had spent hours alone in his dorm trying to understand what it meant. With a quick shake of his head he pulled himself back to reality with a scowl. "You know nothing about my father." He barked out, standing now to tower over Daphne. His cigarette burned the tips of his fingers and he tossed it down between them. "Maybe my father wouldn't be out for blood if your people weren't so set upon destruction. For every wizarding war, muggles have at least three more. And for the record I don't agree with any of it. But you can believe what ever it is you like." Turning away he grabbed his bag and began to search frantically through the flowers for Sasha. Herbology suddenly sounded a lot better than being ridiculed by a girl a foot shorter than him. His heart hammered against his chest, a pounding rhythm that made his ears rush. When he picked his wand up it felt hot in his palm and he shoved it into his back pocket quickly.  His magic had always been rather temperamental. There had been moments in the past where he had sent hexes flying without actually meaning to. The last thing he needed now was to accidently hurt a half blood although the idea of making his father proud was somewhat appealing. That was the twisting knife inside of him, really. Torn between what he really wanted and what was expected of him. With a deep sigh he scooped Sasha out from the dirt and slipped her into his jacket. Somewhere close by the sound of heels clicking on stone floors made him jerk his attention away from Daphne.  "Someone is coming." He hissed in a harsh whisper, stomping the burning filter of the cigarette butt under his black shoes. The two of them arguing had no doubt alerted a teacher or maybe even a perfect with a free period. "I don't know about you Sanderson but I do not need detention. Come on." He snapped, grabbing her elbow and tugging, already moving them towards the nearest exit out the court yard. Without much thought he slipped his grip lower and grabbed her hand, breaking into a run. Behind them Sean could hear the faint yelling of Professor Hooch and he let out a relieved breath. She was so old the only way she was catching them was on a wheelchair designed broom. With a sharp left Sean scrambled up a staircase and then other until they were on the third floor. Although he was almost out of breath a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. In front of them loomed the creepy statue Gunhilda of Gorsemoor. He supposed he wasn't going to a History of Magic or Transfigurations either today. He knew the responsible thing would be to turn back around, face his repercussions with a faulty excuse, and go to class. It was a shame really, that he had never been very good at following rules. "Dissendium." He whispered, watching intently as the statue of the elder hump back witch swung open. Where there should have been cobwebs Sean was shocked to see the dark passage clear. Someone had been using it since the start of school. With a particular expression he let go of Daphne's hand and slipped down into the tunnel, his wand out in front of him. "Lumos." He whispered watching as the darkness faded and his eyes adjusted to the stone and dirt walls.  With a furrowed brow Sean glanced around observing the piles of disposed webs. The tunnel had once led to Honey Dukes but had at one point been reconstructed to instead pop up in the cellar of a abandoned building adjacent to the shop. He only knew this because he had spent weeks reading through The Battle Of Hogwarts and had leafed through the memoir of Harry Potter. Although it had never exactly mentioned the tunnels location he had figured it out on his own. Now however, it appeared, he wasn't the only one who had.  "Did you know this was here?" Sean asked, suddenly remembering he wasn't alone. Moving his wand to get a better look at Daphne's face, Sean shrugged. "This passage. I mean have you heard anyone talking about it or anything since school started?" He pressed, lowering his wand so it wasn't blinding her. "Because since our fourth year I have been the only person down here and now it's apparent someone else has been using it as well." Sean stated, his shoulders tense.  He was sure he was appearing arrogant to Daphne but that wasn't the case at all. In fact it was concern, concern because the trips to Hogsmeade hadn't even started yet, and any student would be foolish to be sneaking around in the middle of the night to get to the wizarding village. Actually, his thoughts were more concerned that someone was sneaking into Hogwarts, not out. He was paranoid, he told himself as he sighed, the war had made everyone that way.  "Nevermind, I'm sure it's nothing." He explained, become more and more aware of his own actions. In front of him was Daphne Sanderson, a Gryfinndor reject, and he had just ran her over half the castle and into a secret passage way. Sean seeped in the darkness and the silence for a long time before finally clearing his throat.  "I didn't mean what I said back there." He began slowly, trying out the feel of what he was trying to say. He hadn't practiced apologizes a lot in his life and he wasn't sure how to do it now either. "I had a bad argument with Vicky Fletcher after class and I took it out on you out there." He explained, pointing his want to the stone back of Gunhilda. "I shouldn't have. And I'm sorry." He finished, his nose twitching at the word.

She couldn’t change into her robes – not yet.

Even as the train barreled smoothly towards Hogwarts, even as she felt the sigh of relief from the other students as they made their way into the carriages, appreciating the sense of normalcy it offered. Normal was a word Daphne Sanderson was positive she would loathe for the rest of her life. Normal didn’t exist. If it meant returning to school, putting on a brave face, and knowing that the blood that spilled across concrete should have been hers, then she didn’t want it. She had felt this way for too long, and it was becoming a habit.

Becoming normal.

Nausea rolled in the pit of her stomach, a jerk of the train only heightening her qualms. Kings Cross Station had already been a nightmare within its own right – witnessing the hundreds of students piling into the train and knowing that there were still dozens that were stripped of that right. Finishing her education had been the last thing on her mind for the past two years. Surviving was at the top of the list and finding herself again had followed. When her letter had come in the mail, Daphne was inconsolable. Her mother had clutched onto her trembling shoulders while her father attempted to soothe her pain with her favorite tea or pastries – but nothing could hinder the fear that had taken over as she realized she would have to walk through those doors without the only people that made Hogwarts bearable.

Macy, a Hufflepuff, would have turned twenty-one last month. Noah, who had won the Triwizard Cup, would have finally kissed her this year, she was sure of it. And Zahra…

Zahra would have been just as terrified as her, and yet would have trekked into Hogwarts with her chin up and her armor unshakeable because it was her way. She was a Gryffindor through and through – a lioness. While Daphne had mourned for all of the Witches and Wizards lost during the war, Zahra, Macy, and Noah had taken up more time in those two years than the others. A hole now sat in her chest where those three belonged. And it was festering.

Marley was curled up against her thigh, green eyes slit as she fought against sleep. The cat purred, though it was more of a gentle roar as the sound echoed across the entirety of her cart. She was thankful for it – it drowned out the nefarious, heavy thoughts.

“Anything from the trolley, dear?”

Daphne jumped, her hand leaving the space on the window where she was drawing trees in the condensation. She eyed the cart-witch warily and then the Honeydukes contents. Her throat tightened and, even though sweets was the last thing she wanted at the moment, falling into a somewhat normal routine might help. So, after giving the Witch a sickle, Daphne placed her chocolate bar inside her bag.

They were almost to Hogwarts and she really needed to change into her robes. But, she knew that even the power of Honeydukes chocolate could only do so much. Reaching towards the empty bench across from her, she snagged her neatly folded stack of robes, the fabric feeling heavier than she remembered.

I can do this. I can do this. Even if I can’t, I have to.

Rising from her bench, Daphne clutched her robes fiercely, her jaw set and her body rigid. She just needed to get this over with – to rip off the bandaid. How pathetic, a Gryffindor, the bravest of them all, being absolutely terrified of a few pieces of fabric. Noah would have playfully teased her while Macy would have been the one to offer words of encouragement. Though, if she needed it, Zahra would have been the one to change her, right then and there.

I have to do this.

Just as she was reaching towards the slider handle, movement from the empty space between the carts caught her attention. It wasn’t unusual to see younger students hurl themselves off the carts, testing the limits of the protection spell in a sick, twisted game of cheating death. Though now, most used the space to smoke – which is exactly what Sean Malfoy was doing as his blue eyes met hers through the glass.

She immediately sat back down as her robes tumbled out of her trembling hands. Deep, haggard breaths racked through her as she attempted to calm her racing heart, not daring to take another glance at him.

She could do this… She could do this…

But, maybe not right now.

—--------------

The two weeks that had passed by felt like years.

Most of the younger students were able to bounce back into old habits quickly, the excitement and sense of promise that surrounded Hogwarts leading them out of the shadows that clouded most of the older Witches and Wizards. Most of the Gryffindors were putting on a brave face, of course, and the Hufflepuffs were often seen consoling others. Slytherins hid their trauma the best, concealing all feelings with a sense of pride that sometimes made Daphne sneer. The Ravenclaws were simply too thankful to be back in a classroom, that they put their academic success ahead of their mourning. It was a smart option, of course – Daphne just wished she was more capable of it.

She had skipped four classes since her return for Hogwarts. While she was no perfect student, she had enjoyed school and rarely put her studies on the back burner. And yet, as she sat in her Divination class, listening to Trelawney attempt to soothe students as she talked about Capnomancy and how “everything in life happens for a reason.” It was safe to say that Daphne Sanderson didn’t agree with her tactics and she left the class after only attending a few minutes.

There was no good reason for all of the deaths the war claimed, for the snide remarks she and the other half-bloods or Muggle Born students went through. As a half-blood herself, Trelawney should know how to read a damn room. After the chaotic start to her morning, she hadn’t even considered going to her next class, Herbology. While she enjoyed Mr. Longbottom well enough, rising from her place on the stone bench felt like a battle within itself. One she was not ready to face, just yet.

So, since the courtyard was emptier than usual, she claimed a spot on a bench, a book from home sitting in her lap. Alices Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carrol. It was a story her mother read to her when she was a child, but Daphne still found solace within its worn pages – whenever she needed a break from the horrors of reality. It was nice to escape to a world where nonsense made sense. In fact, she was so absorbed in the story that she did not hear another student coming until he had plopped down on the bench beside her.

Quickly snapping the book shut and shooting her gaze towards the intruder, Daphne found her scowl freezing in place as she realized who had joined her in the courtyard.

And he was not welcomed.

Smoke immediately danced across her nose as Sean Malfoy blow out a stream of it through his nostrils. She held her breath as he set his rat in the flowers behind them, his tone as he spoke coming out far too casual for her liking. She and Sean were nowhere close to being friends – even acquaintances. He had bullied her in her younger years and then decided that her presence was insufficient enough to forget that she even existed in the first place. Add his pureblood status on top of it and his family’s legacy, Daphne being wary of the boy was not outlandish.

She scooted away from him, nearly falling off the bench. Why a pureblood was talking to her, let alone a Malfoy, was bizarre enough that she was speechless for a moment – allowing him to rattle off nonsense about her classes, as if he knew her.

“Excuse me?” Daphne breathed, bewilderment lacing her words like the smoke clinging to her robes. “I–I don’t think that’s any of your business.” It was a shame that her frustrations came out as nothing but fear towards him. She had fallen into the meek, quiet mold that had been given to her as soon as she stepped into Hogwarts. Though, as his gruff voice continued, talking of friendships while he flicked the ash of his cigarette aimlessly, rage began to brew. A muscle quivered in her jaw, her lips thinned into a line and her cheeks started to turn scarlet. She couldn’t sink into herself as she had always done – to ignore the quips and jabs she had grown used to. Too much had changed. She had changed.

“It’s funny, considering your father’s allegiances against muggles, and yet you take up one of their most disgusting habits.” She scoffed, her pulse quickening and the weight of an already horrific day fueling her. “And what do you come to school for, Malfoy? To live up to your father’s bloody reputation?” Daphne began to rise from her chair, her book dangling in her hand at her side as she gathered her belongings.

“Well, you’re doing a brilliant job, at that.”

Sean hated London. Once, before the war, he had loved this city. He had come here to hang out, shop, and go on dates. His entire youth had been spent gallivanting around Diagon Alley. It's where he had bought his rat, Sasha, and where he had gotten his Wand. But now, everything was different. London wasn't some magical cool place to waste his summer break anymore. It was a tomb and a reminder of everything he had lost. The war had devastated London and it had been here that the bombs fell the hardest. The last place his mother had ever been seen alive. It almost seemed like a sick joke that King's Cross Station had survived the entire ordeal.

Platform nine and three quarters was insanely crowded. All around him students and parents rushed by with trunks and cages and Sean watched them for a moment. It wasn't hard to see the tension that bloomed between families, the way certain parents stared at others, the way some kids clearly avoided standing next to another. The war may have been over for the muggles but it was clearly not for anyone else. There had been hate growing and blossoming for a while.

"Excuse me." Sean muttered as he passed a girl with dark hair. His trunk glided behind him as if on invisible wheels and with a small flick of his wand it glided onto the train, folding in on itself until it was small enough to carry.

When he had received his school letter last month, it had taken him by surprise. It had been two years since Hogwarts had opened its doors. The war had taken nearly every witch and wizard to fight and without professors, it was pointless. Plus he had heard there had been some sort of task force using the historical castle as headquarters. Meanwhile, of course, he had been forced into some backwoods tortuous homeschooling by his father. Still, it felt almost foreign to be returning, especially with his twenty-first birthday looming ahead of him. He should have been already training with the ministry, not going to boarding school.

"Mallfoy! Down here." A voice called, snapping Sean from his thoughts. Several carts down a body leaned out of a compartment waving for him to join. Sean recognized the face immediately. Braxon Focalor, a Slytherin half blood. Although he had never been super close with Braxon, he liked him well enough. Funny, outspoken, and fair. How he had ended up in Slytherin was a mystery. With a sigh Sean grabbed his bag and accepted the invitation.

Sean stared out the train window as the people in his cart talked loudly, their laughter and jokes giving him a headache. The trolly had stopped by sometime earlier and the smell of sweets clung thickly in the air. Beside him Braxon fiddled with a pack of enchanted gummy worms, the jelly substance wiggling in the pack. Occasionally one would escape and hit the floor with a wet splat. Braxon didn't seem to notice, instead he had been focused on giving Sean sideway looks for the last hour. The kind that Sean found to be common since his mother's death. Stiff shoulders, pity in their eyes, a lack of actual conversation. The girl in front of them leaned forward and plucked a worm out of Baxton's lap, examining it. "I don't know how you eat these." She muttered with a look of disgust. The girl beside her giggled. They were all so happy, so unbothered, as if nothing was wrong and everything had always been perfect. Sean blinked away and stood, patting his jacket pocket to make sure his cigarettes were still there.

"I need some air." He muttered, squeezing past the knees and trash of the others. Behind him Braxon stood, his hand catching Sean's elbow. "Wait." He began, his voice a bit nervous. "I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry for your loss. My father told me about your mother. My brother Phillip died as well. But your mother was a great healer and a powerful witch and I hated to hear about it Sean. Truly." Sean paused, his back still to Braxon, and gave a quick nod. "Thanks." He squeezed out before opening the door, slamming it behind him.

Sean dangled his legs off the edge of the train with his body resting against the cool metal bars. In his younger years he used to jokingly throw himself off the edge in front of first years only to be thrown back onboard by the enchanted protection around the Hogwarts Express. Now however he simply smoked, flicking ashes in the empty space between carts. In front of him he could make out the figure of a girl through a window and he watched her.

Daphne Sanderson. Gryffindor's least favorite member; taunted sometimes by even her own house. He had even bullied her once himself, in his first or second year. He had been ridiculed severely by his mother after several letters had been sent home over it and by his third year he had simply ignored her existence. Now he envied her and her solitude. What he would give to be invisible. Flicking his cigarette away he leaned back and closed his eyes enjoying the wind.

Two weeks later

"Sorry we can't all be pureblooded like you." The girl in front of Sean hissed cruely, her face red with anger. Only moments before she had been trying to snog him in the back of potions and now she stood outside an emptying classroom yelling at him. It wasn't his fault he had no desire to make out with Vicky Fletcher. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty, it was the fact her personality was equivalent to an onion.

"Really Vicky?" Sean shot back in a low tone, staring down at the girl with a mixture of anger and frustration. "You're going to bring up my blood? I'm sorry you're such a bitch. Did you ever think maybe that's why I didn't want to kiss you?" He gritted back, pushing himself away from the wall and into the swarming crowd. Vicky followed, clearly not done with him. "Ahh yes the wonderful comeback of the term bitch. Grow up Sean, and fuck you and your discriminating father. Don't think I don't know about the Pureblood campaign he has going on in Wiltshire. And you know, we all lost someone in the war. It doesn't give anyone a free card to sit around and mope. Get over yourself!" She snapped, moving to stand in front of him, blocking his path to the exit. Sean sighed and ran a hand loosely through his platinum hair, a look of pure frustration on his face. He wasn't doing this, not today. Turning he marched the other direction. Screw Herbology, Mr. Longbottom probably wouldn't notice his absence anyways. The only reason he had chosen that class was for potion making and there was no way missing one day was going to hurt him.

Making his way through the corridors Sean stepped into the court yard and tossed his bag down. He sat his wand next to him and began to rummage through his pockets for his cigarettes. He didn't notice at first that he wasn't alone and it wasn't until he had lit the cancer stick that he saw Daphne.

"So I guess I'm not the only one skipping." He muttered, blowing smoke out his nose as he looked her over. Anger still had him rigid and his face and neck glowed with shades of crimson. His rat, Sasha, scratched around in his jacket pocket and he pulled her out sitting her in the flowers behind him. He took another long drag of his cigarette and closed his eyes for a moment. "Are you not a fan of Herbology? I've only seen you in the greenhouse a handful of times. Is this what you've been doing? Hiding in the courtyard?" He asked, his tone a little rougher than he intended. He knew it wasn't fair of him to take things out on her but she was the only thing nearby. It was either her or a rock. "It's not like you come to school for the friendships. One would think you at least enjoyed the classes." He continued, flicking his ashes.

Sean Larson Mallfoy Sean always knew he was going to be a Slytherin. Heir to a long line of Pureblood Wizards, it didn't come as a shock the moment the sorting hat touched his head and doomed him to the life of a serpent. Ambitious, proud, and strong willed Sean has always been favoured by his teachers and his family, something he secretly despises. Even his wand has always screamed future dark wizard. Now in his 7th year at Hogwarts with a terrible war coming to a rocky end, the pressure is stronger than ever. Although his grandfather has never been supportive of the movement taking place, he can't say the same about his father. Sean isn't sure which one of them took the death of his mother worse, his father or himself. The war cost many things and now Sean just wants it all to be over. Outgoing and a bit rebellious, he has never had a problem making friends, but since his return to school he feels like everyone is looking at him like he is wounded. Honestly he wants nothing more than to graduate and pursue his secret dream of being an Auror.