daphne greengrass

The Echoes of Childish Voices

LOCATION: DATE: Jan 12, 2020 @daphnetree​

Draco could still feel the warmth of the childrens’ farewell hugs lingering as he stepped out of the floo and back into the echoing, hollow safety of Malfoy Manor. He looked up guiltily, but there was no one there waiting for him – Astoria off in her own rooms, or at least in her own strange world. She had said her farewells to Scorpius and Cynthia here, in the safety and seclusion of Malfoy Manor, rather than risking what the tumult and crowds of King’s Cross Station might have done to her delicate mind…or, as Draco’s mother would have pointed out, the damage she might do to the family’s even more delicate reputation.

He knew why his wife had to be kept to the family grounds, knew that it was for her own good – but that didn’t stop him feeling guilty, sometimes, at how many of the ordinary joys of life she missed because of it. Astoria had come to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters with their son just once, before his first year at Hogwarts, half-drugged out of her mind on a heavy dose of Calming Draught; that had been her last major excursion in years.

Draco was grateful that her sister had come to live with them, both to help tend to Astoria and to give Scorpius a little more sense of normalcy, but that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty for failing to cure his wife. He tried to shake the melancholy thoughts away – he was always more morose than usual in the days immediately following Scorpius’s return to Hogwarts after a holiday – and mustered a smile as he turned back to the floo and offered his hand to Daphne.

“Well, that’s that then,” he said with forced cheer. “Back to Hogwarts they go, for another blessedly mundane year of education.” He spoke the words almost as though they were a charm, as though he could force it to be true if he wanted it enough. Draco – and Daphne for that matter, and even Astoria – had lived through more than enough drama in their own years at school. Draco would just as soon his son and niece not have to face such excitement themselves. They deserved a normal life…or as normal as one could have when sharing their home and family with a vampire.

Daphne felt a strange sort of way as she stepped out of the fireplace. She had stopped feeling like an outsider by now  – the Manor was just as much her home now was it was Astoria’s, but it always felt different when the children were away. Less warm; less alive. She could pass it off as simply missing them, she supposed, but it had always been more than that. She sees straight through Draco’s cheer  – she knows him well enough by now, and she understands. 

Daphne feels her sister’s absence like a hollow ache in her chest. She does her best for Scorpius, and she loves the boy as much as she would her own son  – but she isn’t his mother. It was Astoria who should be seeing him off to school each year, and knowing how many precious memories and irreplaceable experiences her sister had lost to this infliction ... it killed her. But until they found a cure, what else was there to do but make the best of it? 

She gave Draco’s hand a gentle squeeze, returning his smile with a soft one of her own.

This day had been especially odd – and that was saying something, Dean Thomas was usually great at embracing the oddities life threw his way. These kinds of oddities were not the ones he was open to dealing with, not when they were interfering with his living so much. First, the sleepless night, which wasn’t anything new. Then, when he’d left his office and gone into Diagon Alley, searching for one of the cafés where he could sit outside and go over some paperwork that was killing him, he’d been nearly damn blinded by the sun.

He’d never quite felt the need for sunglasses like this, but maybe he was getting old by now and his eyes were failing him. Maybe.

When he’d finally settled on a table – inside, since he’d already found himself squinting and half-stumbling outside –, he’d managed to spill some of his ordered coffee onto his papers. Which wouldn’t be much trouble; he knew the ridiculous, first-year-level spell to fix it.

Except his wand refused to cooperate. It spat out a spark, in some grand, dramatic temper tantrum, and it didn’t let him perform the spell at all. He was this close to losing it.

“What’s the name of that… bad luck potion and how do I find out if someone spiked my drinks with it?” He asked whoever was closest, hoping reaching out and having some human interaction would help this day. “Merlin. Sorry. Would you be so kind and help me here?”

It felt rare for Daphne to have a truly quiet moment. When she wasn’t working, she was working, and when she wasn’t working, she was with the children ⎯ whom she loved dearly, but could certainly be a handful. A cup of tea and a little slice of cheesecake had seemed like the perfect way to enjoy a few solid minutes of blissful solitude, but it seemed like fate ⎯ as it often does ⎯ had different plans. 

She turned around, and was immediately struck with a wave of familiarity. She knew his face from somewhere, though she couldn’t quite work out who he was. Truthfully, Daphne had always been terribly with faces. They all seemed to blend together in her memories, though she rarely forgot a name. Words she could always remember. 

“Infortunium Infelicitas?” She offered, as she glanced down at the coffee soaked papers. A curious frown tugged at her lips. “You’re having trouble with a cleaning spell?”