You can never go back, but sometimes it's so hard to go forward. Sunday, July 22nd - Late Afternoon
Since she and Harry had come home from the events of Friday night, Daphne had refused to leave Glen Hollow. For the most part she remained in bed, curled up on her side of the mattress, buried beneath the covers and clutching a pillow.
Guilt, sadness and fear ate at her. How had she missed the signs? How could she have let Rose down so badly? And the others? How many had been hurt because of her, because of something she should have noticed?
The conception of two people living together for twenty-five years without having a cross word suggests a lack of spirit only to be admired in sheep. ~ Alan Patrick Herbert Sunday, July 15th ~ Afternoon
Harry was in a mischievous mood and Daphne was the only target to take it out on since Dobby had taken off early that morning. Putting the guest list down for the surprise bachelor party they were throwing for Remus on the kitchen table, he looked over at his wife and grinned while taking a seat.
"Do you think one female exotic dancer is enough to embarrass the socks off of Remus or do you think we should get two? Maybe one of each, since Draco will be there would be better?"
It's hard to believe how fast time flies. Sunday, July 8th ~*~ Late Afternoon
Daphne sighed irritably and squirmed some more, trying to find a comfortable position. Laying on the couch should not have been this difficult!
Dobby popped up out of no where and wordlessly offered her another pillow, most likely the same one she'd pulled out from behind her back and thrown across the room in a fit of frustration less than an hour ago. She'd noticed it had disappeared at some point. For a moment, the urge to growl that she was fine and didn't need coddling was there, but Daphne bit it back and took a deep breath before gratefully reached for the offered item.
If you limit your choices only to what seems possible or reasonable, you disconnect yourself from what you truly want, and all that is left is a compromise. ~ Robert Fritz Sunday, July 1st ~ Early Morning
Draco and Greg's birthday bash had turned out interesting enough, Harry decided while sitting down at his desk. He'd been unable to sleep and rather than risk waking Daphne, he'd gotten up and gone downstairs. He was still oddly disturbed at the events that had transpired and needed to figure out what was at the bottom of it. Pulling his journal, Harry read a few entries, gradually moving back until he closed it in frustration and put it away. It held no answers and he found himself replaying the events at the party over and over again.
Parish is a wanker, he told himself as he rose and turned off the lights in his study before shutting the door and heading back upstairs. He didn't even have the bollocks to stick around after.
"- I had know that was all it would take to keep that hag Witherpool off my case and away from my stories, I would have volunteered to bring lunch for everyone before. It is not my fault she's got a thing for chicken salad. How was I supposed to know you aren't supposed to use the entire - What? - What do you mean I'm on the air? Already? Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"This is Rita Skeeter live in the gardens of the Black Orchid Hotel - which is the closest I can get thanks to security and that restraining order. That sound you hear is an almost tribal rhythm emanating from the hotel ballroom."
The noise grew momentarily louder before being drowned out by the unmistakable sounds of snapping twigs and a whispered curse. "They nearly saw me that time."
"Almost a primal beat, primal enough to remind this reporter of the events that occurred in that very ballroom just a few short months ago. Will tonight's festivities end in yet another veil of silence, much like the day after the Valentine's Ball and the rumored, yet sadly unsubstantiated, orgy that may or may not have taken place?"
"As always, ladies and gentlemen, WWN is always interested in the comments and concerns of our listeners. More importantly, if you personally witnessed a sensational bit of scandal, owl me, Rita Skeeter, care of the WWN. The Wizarding Wireless Network now returns you to our regularly scheduled programing."
Every girl needs a little reassurance once in awhile. Sunday, June 24th ~*~ Early Morning
Normally Daphne was the last to wake up, especially on a Sunday when she chose to sleep in on her day off. But this morning something woke her early.
Whatever it was - dream, bird call or something else all together - was quickly forgotten as she made herself comfortable cuddled against Harry's side, the slight bump of the baby making it harder to fit against him like she used to.
Her frown was barely visible in the pre-dawn light. In her mind, she understood that the changes occurring in her body were necessary for the baby, and the baby was definitely something she wanted, but Daphne had always had issues with her weight and couldn't help wondering if Harry would still want her when she got fat. What if she couldn't get the baby weight off right away? What if it never came off? Draco would never let her hear the end of it, that she was certain of.
"Harry? Are you sleeping?" She knew Harry was still asleep, and the polite thing to do would be go back to sleep and talk to him in the morning, but Daphne wanted to talk about it now.
Some times there are sacrifices to be made. Wednesday, June 13th ~*~ Afternoon
Daphne said her goodbyes to Anne Perks, and stepped away from the woman's hospital bed.
After hearing what had happened on Monday, she'd wanted to visit the two people that had gotten hurt. Guilt had eaten at her for the last few days even though she hadn't had any part in what had happened when Bellatrix died, but that didn't stop her from wanting to see for herself that Anne and Snape would eventually be alright.
Dealing with her guilt over Bellatrix's death would take much more, she knew.
She stopped to lean against her husband for a moment, seeking a bit of comfort and strength, before moving on to find Snape.
Covered in bandages and looking even paler than normal, he was propped up against some pillows in his bed, arguing with his Healer. That, more than anything else could have, served to reassure her.
I got my mob scene in my eyes You can ignore the voices of the people, This is the beginning.
They say no consequence. This is the beginning of the end. Monday, June 11 :: Morning
"This is to be a precision operation. Secure the area, retrieve Lestrange and bring her back to Azkaban for interrogation."
Scrimgeour steepled his hands and looked across his desk at the hand-picked group of Aurors listening attentively to every one of his words.
Kingsley Shacklebolt wasn't among them. The Minister had wanted disciplined, obedient officers on this mission, and while he respected the Head of the Auror Office, Scrimgeour didn't trust Shacklebolt to see what was best in this case.
For instance, Kingsley would probably think it necessary to inform the Hogsmeade office of what was about to go down in their town, and that couldn't be allowed.
And so it begins. Sunday, June 10th - Early Afternoon
Bill Apparated to Glen Hollow, one arm full of the carefully wrapped package, the other wrapped firmly around Tonks for a Side-Along Apparation.
Little had he known back when Tonks had told him about Longbottom's suspected fate - so that he could be ready in case Ginny needed comforting or a big brother's hold to keep her from going after someone for revenge - that he would be end up in the thick of everything.
"Remember, officially, I was just doing a favor for a friend when I agreed to look it over. Harry didn't go through Gringotts, and they could have my job if they thought I was doing paid, freelance work. If you weren't you, Nymph, I wouldn't even have told you what I found because it's Potter's, not mine, but this is big and - Oh, crap, this is big, isn't it?"
He knocked on the door once more, hoping the Potters were home and that someone would answer soon enough. The package was giving him the creeps, making the short hairs on his neck stand on end.
Suddenly, it seems so real. Sunday, June 3rd ~*~ Afternoon
Normally, Daphne wouldn't think of using her new station as the wife of the "Boy Who Lived to Defeat You-Know-Who Twice" to influence anyone into getting her something she wanted, but shouldn't really have. However, considering both their busy schedules and the fact that they weren't quite ready to let the entire Wizarding world know that there was a baby Potter on the way, Daphne hadn't a single twinge of guilt about asking her doctor if there was any way they could arrange a special appointment outside of normal office hours.
To Daph's delight, her doctor had understood about the Harry's notoriety, and had agreed to open the office on Sunday morning, just for them. She'd even had someone waiting to let them in through the backdoor.
It was all very cloak and dagger, but after what Daphne had learned about Bellatrix Lestrange and her own experiences with Croaker and the vampire, she didn't feel nearly as silly has she had expected.
