Chapter Text
“Professor? Are you alright?” Daisy asked, terrified for her Headmaster. It was obvious that he was in excruciating pain, and the only thing that she could do was keep feeding him scoop after scoop of that poisonous liquid.
“I can’t, Daisy, I can’t. No more,” he pleaded, tears running from his now flat eyes. He groaned, leaning over the basin as if he were about to puke. His face was bone pale, his knuckles white from gripping the edge of the stone.
“You have to, Sir. Every last drop, you made me promise, remember?” She said, keeping outwardly calm. It was a far cry from how she felt inside. Again she brought the liquid to his lips. He gurgled a bit but did swallow, his body convulsing slightly.
“No, no. No more,” he said, raising his wand. “No more,” he repeated, sounding oddly final as he pointed the tip of his wand to himself. Daisy knew with a visceral gut wrenching thought exactly what he meant to do and she reacted in less than a millisecond. She raised her own wand and with a quick “Expelliarmus” she spared his life. Dumbledore’s wand flew into her hand and she dropped it to continue forcing the liquid into the Headmaster’s mouth.
When they were done, they did not speak of it. Dumbledore did not have the time to spare, but she did catch him giving her very inscrutable looks when she ever did see him at all.
-
It was Hermione’s idea to see a mind healer. Daisy didn’t feel quite comfortable with that, though. As much as she was assured that the mind healers were discreet, Daisy did not want anyone or anything magical messing with her mind. To appease her friend, Daisy yielded to going to a muggle psychiatrist. Daisy even went so far as to get one in America, since she did not trust the paparazzi to not follow her to appointments. The psychiatrist she chose was a poised middle-aged woman named Dr. Du Maurier, and she was patient and understanding when Daisy took her time to word things.
“When I lost my . . . “ Daisy started, already having to pause. She had lost a great deal of people. Her godfather, many friends, and three mentors that she had looked up to. Well, she hadn’t really looked up to Snape; not at the time, at least.
She had already talked about Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus. She had talked about Fred, Cedric Diggory. Talked about the Dursley’s and her parents. The abuse from Umbridge.
Daisy had explained Voldemort as a murderous stalker named Tom. She did not say that she had killed him, only that he had died. Doctor Du Maurier was a sharp woman though, and Daisy knew that she had come to the proper conclusion anyway.
Of all the things she had talked about, though, Daisy still had not said a word about Snape. Not even after an entire year of therapy sessions.
He was the only one left to talk about, and the most difficult to explain.
The seconds ticked by as Daisy tried to gather her thoughts, Dr. Du Maurier waited patiently with her pen in hand. Until, finally, Daisy felt that she had the words that she needed. “He was my professor. Like the Headmaster, he knew me since I was eleven. From the very first time I met him he was a nasty git who seemed to hate me.”
“You say that he seemed to hate you. What happened to change your perception?” Bedelia aked, placing the pen in the middle binding of her journal.
“Well . . . “ that was a very loaded question. “Before he . . . before Tom murdered him, he told me a lot of things. Professor Snape knew my parents, they went to school together. When I was growing up he would always tell me that I was an arrogant brat just like my father. Things like that. He despised Remus and Sirius too, since they were friends with my dad. Professor Snape told me that they used to bully him endlessly. They . . . almost killed him once,” Daisy said bitterly, looking down at her hands.
“Do you think that because your father and his friends bullied your professor, that that gives him the right to in turn bully you when you were a child?”
Doctor Du Maurier’s office was exceedingly clean and tidy, made up with expensive looking wood furniture. The lighting was neither harsh nor dim, but her hair always managed to glint perfectly golden. Her attire was always strictly professional, and she tended to lean towards dresses with pencil skirts.
“No, of course I don’t believe that,” Daisy said with a sigh. “But it wasn’t just that. He told me, just before he died, that he loved my mother. She was the closest and most true friend that he had ever had.”
“Was he jealous of your father?”
Daisy pondered the question with a grimace, finding the thought appalling. “Yes . . . and no. I am not sure of his feelings of course, and I never can be, but . . . I got the feeling that he was jealous that my mother spent her time with my father and not him. I don’t think . . . I hope,” she amended with a grossed out face, “that he wasn’t romantically interested in my mum.”
“Was that the extent of your relationship with him?”
“No. No, I knew . . . a few years before his death . . . “ Daisy hummed, trying to think of how to word the events. “After I learned that Tom was back, I found out that Snape was . . . an acquaintance of sorts to him. Dumbledore knew this, and he told me not to worry. Snape was helping us gather information on Tom to keep me safe. At the time I still did not trust him much. Later, when Tom learned that Snape was protecting me, Tom murdered him.”
It was not exactly what had happened, but it was close enough to the truth. Snape had died protecting her, even if it had not been the reason that Voldemort had ultimately killed him. Snape had been a good spy until the very end, and Voldemort had died never knowing that he had been betrayed by one of the people closest to him. It was almost enough to give her trust issues on top of everything else when she thought about it.
“There are just so many things that I want to say to him. So many questions that I want to ask,” Daisy said, that all too familiar wave of regret washing over her.
“Have you been journaling like I recommended?”
Daisy nodded. “I have, but it’s still hard to write down details. Especially about my . . . my . . . “ even now she couldn’t say the word.
“It’s alright to say it, Daisy. I am not here to pity you or trivialize what happened to you. You were abused and stalked for most of your life, and it is not wrong or dirty or attention seeking to say so.”
“I know. Thank you.”
It was a statement repeated in every single session, said in a million different ways.
“I would like to recommend something new. You said that there are a lot of things still left to say and ask of professor Snape. You should write him a letter.”
“A letter? But . . . he will never be able to read it,” Daisy said, tearing up a little bit at the thought. There were only a very few handful of times that she had cried in this office, and she did not want to add another tally to that.
“Even so, it might help to write to him as if he would read it. That goes for anyone else you feel that you still need to talk to as well. Write them a letter and tell them exactly what you are thinking and feeling. Put it away for a time and come back to it later. You can also burn them if that will help to relieve your thoughts.”
Doctor Du Maurier got up then, going to the small counter that contained a sink, a microwave, and other odds and ends. The psychiatrist made it a point to know her clients well, and would fix them their favorite beverage at the end of each session. Daisy had always wondered who the high shelf wine was for in the wine cooler, but she knew better than to ask.
“Thank you, Dr. Du Maurier. I will try writing the letters,” Daisy said as she watched the doctor place a mug of water into the microwave. Daisy’s favorite drink was hot chocolate because it reminded her of Remus, Sirius, the Weasley’s, and Christmas all at once.
-
‘Dear Professor’
Daisy stared at the parchment, wondering why she would even use the honorific to address the man. She had never called him ‘professor’ unless prompted while in school. And now, too, she has graduated from Hogwarts. Even if he were alive, he would no longer be her professor. She crossed it out.
‘Dear Snape,”
Much better. Now, though, she was stuck on how to start. If he were alive, what would she even say to him? Daisy sighed and pushed the scroll aside, grabbing a clean parchment. Instead she wrote to Sirius, then to Remus. Telling them about her life and that she missed them greatly. She wrote about Teddy, and about how George and Ron were opening a second shop.
She wrote to Cedric, telling him that she was sorry for his death. Told him that she had had a crush on him at the time, but knew that he did not feel the same way. She thanked him for helping her with the clue, for giving her access to the prefect’s bathroom.
Daisy did not write a letter to Dumbledore; not when she could easily go to the castle and speak with his portrait whenever she wished. She did write to Fred, telling him much of what she had written to Sirius and Remus.
Afterwards she was emotionally drained and her hand was cramped from writing so much. Her eyes landed on the blank letter to Snape and she sighed, setting her quill down. “That one will just have to wait,” she told the empty air, stirring her new owl Twig with her voice. Daisy folded the completed letters and placed them each in an envelope, penning each of their names and sealing them with wax.
Each one of them was ready to be officially delivered, but they never would be she knew. Still, it gave her a strangely comforting feeling to look at them lined up neatly on her desk, as if they could be received and read by every single person addressed. Daisy left them there just for that purpose, tidying the space marginally before retiring for bed. Writing letters was much easier than journaling, she decided.
-
Daisy’s days were filled with helping Hermione prepare for her wedding, playing with Teddy, and trying to decide what to do with her future. The past year had been hectic since she had helped clean up the castle as well as finished up her last year of studies there at Hogwarts. Everyone was expecting her to become an auror or a teacher, or even a world class quidditch player.
Daisy had seen enough battle though, so she ruled out being an auror. As much as she loved Hogwarts, she couldn’t picture teaching there. When it came to quidditch . . . Daisy already had enough fame.
“Do you think that doilies are too much?” Hermione asked, fretting over her wedding planning book. And it really was a book, with how many notes, pictures, and detailed lists there were in it.
“Are doilies too much for you, Hermione? If you want your grand and magical day to have doilies in it, then no, they are not too much,” Daisy told her, keeping half of her attention on Teddy even though Andromeda was also watching him.
“You’re talking like a therapist again, Daisy,” Hermione huffed good naturedly. “And yes, I think that I will have the doilies. Oh! But what color should they be?” Thus starting a whole new debate.
It was late evening by the time that Daisy got back home to Grimmauld place, the familiar grungy aura dragging her mood back down. At one time the house had been filled with too many people flitting in and out, loud Order members lightening the mood even in a dark time. The war was over now, but there were no people to brighten the hallways and rooms. Just flashes of past memories of laughter and mischief.
Kreacher did not come out to greet her, and Daisy did not summon him. Instead she went to her room and sat at her desk, gazing at the letters there. She wrote a second letter to both Sirius and Remus, then to Fred as well. All throughout writing, her eyes kept straying to that still-blank letter to Snape. Once her letters had been folded, signed, and waxed, she sat back and stared at that blank parchment.
Daisy reached out finally and pulled it closer, dipping her quill.
‘Dear
Professor
Snape,’ it still read.
‘Hermione and Ron are getting married next month. Hermione has dragged me into helping with the planning and I have found that I am actually pretty good when it comes to the decorations. We all finished our last year of studies at Hogwarts and helped out with the restoration of the castle. Hermione already has a job at the Ministry, and Ron is working to become an auror. I still am unsure about what I want to do.
As much as you called me an attention-seeking arrogant brat, all I have really wanted lately is to just disappear from the public eye. They still write utter nonsense about me in the papers. Speculations mostly about my love life and my career; the two things that I am completely perplexed by.
Teddy is doing well, and I see him almost every day. I am determined to not let him grow up without a family.
I wanted to write to you mostly to say thank you, and I am sorry. Talking shit about my father and bullying me growing up was not okay, but there was a reason for it I suppose. Did you and Dumbledore know that Voldemort’s resurrection was inevitable? Or were you a mean nasty old git those first years just because you could be?
I cleared your name with the Ministry and they even awarded you a medal. You deserve it in my opinion; you’ve saved my ass too many times to count throughout the years. We thought that the room of requirement had been completely destroyed by the fiend fyre, but some things had not been lost. I found your book again there.
Your memories are still safe with me, and I hope you don’t mind that I used them to clear your name. I wanted to ask . . . about your relationship with my mother. I know you loved her, but did you see her as more than a friend? My psychiatrist Dr. Du Maurier asked if you were jealous of my father, and I didn’t really know how to answer. No offense, but the thought of that is repulsive to me.
I want to let you know that I forgive you for telling Voldemort about the prophecy. You had to live your entire life dealing with the consequences of that, and I felt from your memories just how much you regretted it. I can see now how you blamed me for ever being born. If I hadn’t been, maybe there would be no prophecy. My parents would definitely still be alive.
I think a lot about you and everyone else we lost in the war. I wish that I could still talk to you because all of my anger has been stripped down bit by bit over the past year and now all I have left is sadness and regrets. If I could go back and save your life, or anyone’s really, then I would do it in a heartbeat. Your death was the most preventable, I feel. I still have nightmares about you bleeding out in the shrieking shack.
For a long time afterwards, my hand that had been placed at your throat trying to hold in your spilling blood never felt quite clean.
Voldemort didn’t know that you were not the master of the Elder Wand, and you never had been. I did not know it at the time, but the wand had been mine for the better part of the year. I don’t think that Dumbledore ever meant for that to happen, but it did. The Elder Wand is gone now.
What should I do with your book? I was thinking of having the revisions published in your name. The notes certainly helped me out a lot in class. You would probably hate it if I published them, though.
I’ll end this letter now, but I might write to you again later. It is easier than journaling, I have found.
Yours, Daisy’
She folded up the letter and placed it in an envelope like the others, signing and sealing it. It was late by then, so she got up to get ready for bed. Her new brown barn owl Twig chirped at her, pecking at the window to be let out. Daisy opened it, but the owl hesitated.
“Suit yourself,” Daisy said, leaving the window open as she headed to the bathroom. She did not notice that the letter she wrote to Snape was gone from her desk and Twig along with it.
-
The next scheduled meeting with Dr. Du Maurier was devastating for Daisy. She arrived right on time as per usual, but the building was completely closed. A notice on the door stated that Du Maurier was retiring, and she would not be reopening her practice. Naturally she would have been notified via text or email, but Daisy did not have a phone or a computer.
She stood at the door for a long moment, lingering there for a time. “Daisy Potter?” A man’s voice asked from behind her, and she turned to take in a sharply dressed gentleman with brown eyes.
“Hello, yes,” she replied, feeling underdressed compared to him in her sundress and strappy sandals.
“I am Doctor Du Maurier’s colleague. She told me to wait here for you, as you did not leave any contact information,” he said, his accent thick compared to Du Maurier’s light tones. “She referred you to me when she retired. I am Doctor Lecter.”
“Nice to meet you, Doctor Lecter,” Daisy said, stepping forward to shake his hand. His grip was warm and firm, calluses rough and dry against her own. “Thank you for waiting for me.”
“It was not a problem. Here is my business card, so you may call me to set up an appointment time. My office hours are nine to eleven on Mondays and Wednesdays if you would prefer to set up your appointments in person,” Hannibal said, producing the said small piece of cardstock from his shirt pocket.
“Yes, I will be there tomorrow to set that up. I don’t use a cell phone,” she told him, taking the card anyway so that she could see the address of his office. “And yes, before you ask, I am paranoid,” she joked, giving him a wide if slightly uncertain grin.
He smiled at her joke, but it was a thin thing that did not touch his eyes. “I will see you tomorrow, then. Good evening, Miss Potter.”
“Good evening,” she said, watching him turn and walk back to his car.
-
Shortly after setting up her new schedule with Dr. Lecter, she got an owl from Hagrid. Fang had passed away, and there was to be a small funeral for him. She showed up in a black dress, Hermione and Ron with her. Minerva was there, as well as the rest of the staff. Some other students had come, and Daisy cried that day as Fang was lowered into the ground next to Hagrid’s hut.
Hagrid cried the loudest of any of them, his howls and bellows echoing far out even through the Forbidden Forest. He hugged each of them heartily, his tears a downpour. When most everyone had left and it was only the golden trio, he told them that he was going to retire from Hogwarts and move to France to be with Madame Maxime. Daisy cried all the harder from this news, but she smiled through it and told him that she was happy for him.
The next day after the funeral, she showed up for her first appointment with her new psychiatrist. She arrived just as a scruffy looking man came out of the main room, and he nodded to her without meeting her eyes. Dr. Lecter stood at the door and waved her inside.
“Daisy, you are right on time. Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the cushioned chair and thankfully not the lounge. He took his own seat and settled down, pen in hand. “The papers you signed to release your information from Doctor Du Maurier came in, and I have been looking over her notes.”
“You can ask me anything for clarification, of course,” Daisy assured him. “I don’t expect you to know me that well through only notes.” It stung to have to start over almost completely new with a new psychiatrist, especially when she had built up a lot of trust with her old one.
“Perhaps we should start with what you want to talk about today, then I will ask questions if I need to. Your face is slightly swollen, have you been crying recently?” He asked, getting straight to the point. It was a much more blunt question than Dr. Du Maurier would ask, but she supposed that everyone was different.
“Yes, I have,” she answered honestly. “Hagrid’s dog Fang died and we held his funeral yesterday. Fang had been his companion since before I had even met him, and I grew up with them. Fang was a slobbery and old dog, but he knew when there was danger around. After the funeral, Hagrid told me that he was moving to France to be with his girlfriend. I am happy for him, and he deserves happiness more than most, but I will miss him greatly,” Daisy said, breaking her own rule about crying during the first session.
She took a tissue from the box on the table beside her chair, drying her eyes. They were small tears, things that welled up and spilled out without her permission.
“Grief is a natural reaction to loss,” Dr. Lecter told her, impassive to her tears.
‘No shit’, Daisy wanted to reply, but she did not want to be on his bad side. Her tears stopped, but she kept the tissue in her hands. She studied him for a heartbeat and realized that he had no pity at all. Good.
“Doctor Du Maurier told me in our last session to write letters to the dead. I followed her advice, and it has helped a lot. I stare at the letters addressed to each person on my desk, and it makes me feel like they will eventually be able to read them. I find that I am tired of looking into the past. I am struggling with finding out what I want to do as a career, though everyone else seems to know what I should do,” she said with a huff.
“You have many people telling you what to do?”
Daisy laughed, and it sounded resigned more than anything. Her eyes still crinkled like she was sharing an inside joke. “More than you know, not that I let them of course. People have been controlling my life since before I was born, and I am quite done with that. I just . . . don’t know how to start,” she confessed.
“From my experience, most careers start with an interest in a certain topic. Do you have things that you do for fun, Daisy?”
“Yes, I have . . . sports. My friends say that I should go pro, but I really could not handle the attention from that. I never wanted fame.”
“Perhaps you should try new hobbies, then. Pick up something new that maybe you have never tried before.”
“A new hobby . . . “ she repeated, saying the words like she had never heard such an amazing thing in her life. “You’re right! I have the time now that I have graduated, and I can do whatever I want. I don’t have any responsibilities anymore.” The realization was revolutionary. “Doctor Lecter, you are amazing, truly,” she told him with a genuine smile.
“I am glad that we have managed to make a breakthrough so easily in your treatment,” he told her, his lips turned up at the corners.
Doctor Lecter did not make her a cup of hot chocolate, but he had managed to offer her something even better. New opportunities that she had not even considered with her cluttered mind focused on her friend’s wedding, Teddy, and the haunting memories of the casualties of war. “Thank you, Doctor Lecter,” she told him as she exited his office from the side door leading outside. It was an exit reserved for patients, but there was a gentleman in a suit waiting there.
“Doctor Lecter? Jack Crawford, FBI,” Daisy heard the man say as she walked away. She couldn’t hear the reply, but she was sure it was properly scathing. That was none of her business.
-
‘Dear Snape,
Ron and Hermione’s wedding was amazing and beautiful. It was exactly what fairytales are made of, and I hope that my wedding will be just as beautiful someday. They had it in the garden, and the roses were climbing up the trellis all perfectly bloomed. I cried all day from happiness, and Hermione looked utterly gorgeous in her dress. Ron cried too, but he will deny it completely when mentioned.
Hagrid was there for the wedding, but he left right afterwards back to France. He lives with Madame Maxime now, and it probably won’t be long before I am invited to another wedding. They always were entirely smitten with each other, and it makes me happy to witness.
Fang passed away, and my psychiatrist Doctor Du Maurier retired. I have a new psychiatrist now, and I think that his advice is a lot more simple and blunt. He states the most seemingly obvious things, and it hits me like a train because I had never considered such things. You always did call me silly and insipid, and I suppose I am coming to understand just how right you were.
Dr. Lecter told me to get new hobbies, and that was mind blowing for me. I took up dancing and singing lessons, and though it doesn’t come as naturally to me it is still very fun. Dancing is easier, of course. Maybe it’s the years of practice I put in learning to memorize wand movements and such. I am taking muggle self defense lessons too, and I surprised them with how much I already know. David, my teacher, had laughed and said that he would be putting me in the intermediate courses.
I was thinking about moving out of Grimmauld place and getting a house in muggle America. That’s where my lessons and appointments are anyway. There are too many memories here in Grimmauld place, and the more I stay out of the house, the more I have learned that this place weighs on me heavily. I talked to Hermione and Ron about this, and they reluctantly said that I should do what I feel like I need to do.
Mrs. Weasley even said that she would come here periodically and check up on Kreacher. You know how he gets depressed when left alone, and he is too tied to Grimmauld place to ever leave. I have been looking, and there is a nice house for sale in Maryland. It’s not too far from where Dr. Lecter’s office is, so it will be very convenient for me to move there.
This is something that I haven’t spoken to anyone about, but I feel as if my life has been over since I defeated Voldemort. I did technically die, sure, but that is not what I mean. It feels like my life in the wizarding world is over, like I need to start new somewhere else. I was never given a chance to truly be myself growing up, and now I can explore the things that I missed out on.
I suppose I wanted to tell you all of this because I don’t think that you ever had that chance either. You never had the opportunity to just simply be who you wanted to be. Like me, all of your decisions were made for you by others. I wonder who you might have become, given the chance.
Yours, Daisy’
-
It was during her second month of dancing lessons that she walked into a titter amongst the students and a nervous energy in the room. There was a very official looking new person in the back of the room, whom Miss Rodriguez introduced as a talent scout. Their dance instructor had said that there would be visitors of that variety sometimes to head hunt new dancers for music videos and broadway.
Jessica, a mousy brunette woman who had taken to Daisy quickly, looked excited. She glanced over and crossed her fingers with an exuberant expression. Daisy smiled and copied the movement, knowing that it was her new friend’s dream to become a professional dancer.
Miss Rodriguez clapped her hands to get their attention, then started the music on the speakers. They fell into step easily, Daisy keeping a soft smile on her lips as she flowed through the movements. They had been told repeatedly that they were to have ‘soft faces, like the pleasant wind. No scary concentrated glares!’.
Daisy had wanted to close her eyes at first while dancing, but she had gotten slapped on the bottom with the long yard stick that Miss Rodriguez always kept in her hand too many times to keep making that mistake. She had also been criticized for wearing glasses during practice, so she had gone to the optometrist to get fit for contacts. It also helped in her self defense lessons, as she didn’t have to worry about them getting broken.
The lesson passed, and they were dismissed without the scout saying a single word. He only wrote little notes and waited for the students to filter out before speaking softly to Miss Rodriguez.
Jessica grabbed her arm as they passed through the doorway to the outside, looking hopeful. “Do you think that he noticed me? That was the best performance I’ve had during any class, I’m sure I must have made some kind of impression,” she said, walking with Daisy on the sidewalk.
Daisy had learned that Americans were more loud and expressive than British people, but she liked the difference quite a lot. Jessica had stricken up a conversation with her on day one, and had immediately decided they were friends. It was so easy and refreshing that she did not question it.
“I’m sure that he noticed you. If he didn’t, then he might be blind,” Daisy assured her. “I’m sure that Miss Rodriguez is giving him your phone number right now so that he can call you directly.”
“Oh Daisy, you flatterer,” Jessica laughed, patting her arm in a soft playful slap. “Well, if he does call me, then we definitely have to go out for drinks. Actually, why don’t we go to the club right now? I could let off a little steam.”
“Ah, that sounds amazing Jessica, but I actually have an appointment in an hour. Maybe some other night?”
“Awww, alright. I’ll get you out one of these nights, Daisy. I know you’re still unpacking and everything, but you need to take a break too! Anyway, call me anytime you want to take me up on my offer. First drink’s on me!”
When Daisy had told Jessica when they first met that she did not have a phone, the woman had looked horrified. She had practically forced her to go buy one, then put her number in the contacts list. “How do you not have a phone or anything?” She had asked.
“I grew up in a castle without any electronics,” Daisy had said at the time. Jessica didn’t seem to believe her then, but had slowly come to accept that answer.
They parted ways, and Daisy began walking to her house so she could take a shower and change before her appointment.
She wasn’t completely barbaric; Hermione had made sure that she at least had a muggle bank account and a debit card when Daisy first started going to a psychiatrist. Now she had a phone, and she had even invested in a nice laptop computer. She had grown up as a muggle, sure, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything since she had lived with the Dursleys.
Now that she was living on her own, she was starting to fully embrace the muggle way of things. It was actually a lot more simple, she was starting to discover. She didn’t need to know a special wand movement just to turn the lights on. She lifted her head and breathed in the crisp cool air of the evening. Winter was coming on, and it was a lovely feeling.
“Daisy, you are early. Is everything alright?” Dr. Lecter asked, taking her into the room regardless.
“Oh, yes! Actually, everything is going great. I am still in the middle of unpacking, and my lessons are keeping me busy. My friends keep me updated the rest of the time, and I still get to see Teddy regularly. I am keeping up with writing my letters, and I have found that they are surprisingly therapeutic to write. Jessica wants me to go out to the club with her, but I’m not sure that I am ready for that yet,” Daisy said, making herself comfortable in the chair.
“The next step of friendship is to spend personal time with them. Is it her company that you object to, or the act of going out itself?”
“Oh, no, it’s definitely not Jessica. She is a very sweet and energetic person, and I’m glad that she has made me a friend. It’s just that I still feel very reserved about going out in public. What happened with Tom has made me weary of putting myself out there too much, yah know?”
“You have suffered much trauma in your life at the hands of others, Daisy. It is an entirely appropriate reaction to want to shield yourself from more of the same. The problem comes when you begin to shield yourself from the good aspects of that as well, such as making new friends.”
“So you think that I should accept her offer?”
“I am not here to tell you what I think you should do. I am only here to guide you into deciding what is best for yourself.”
Daisy grinned, then let out a tinkling laugh. “That is very diplomatic of you, Dr. Lecter. You are right though, of course. I can’t let my past abuses decide what to do with the rest of my life. I will accept her offer when I feel comfortable enough. I am tired of surviving, I have done it my entire life. I am ready to truly live.”
Doctor Lecter looked almost stunned at her words, like something had just clicked in his mind. “So it is with all abuse survivors. There is a point where we must choose to live instead of simply surviving.”
Daisy bit her lip and did not mention his use of the word ‘we’. It was obviously a slip, and none of her business. She got the strange feeling that her words had just provided some type of therapy to him, in a strange role reversal.
“It is easier said than done, I am finding. I still have vivid nightmares about the people I have lost. I have seen too many people murdered just because they decided to stand by my side. They haunt me, ask me why I should deserve to live when they did not have the chance. Doctor Du Maurier calls it survivor's guilt.”
Dr. Lecter had snapped out of the daze from earlier, and he made a note in his journal of something. “How many deaths did you witness first-hand?”
Daisy’s eyes went unfocused, and she remembered them. “My mother was the first. I was only one year old, but I still remember her screams when Tom came. Cedric was next, when I was fourteen. My godfather, Sirius. I watched Tom’s girlfriend die too, Bellatrix Lestrange. I was relieved when she died. I watched Tom slit Snape’s throat, and I tried to stop the blood pouring out of his throat as he laid on the ground bleeding out. I watched Dumbledore die, pushed from the top of a building. I . . . I killed him. I killed Tom. In the end. And there were countless others that escape my memory now. There were just too many.” Daisy said, reliving all the death she had seen. It was the first time telling a muggle that she had killed Voldemort. It hadn’t meant to come out, really, and suddenly she snapped back to reality.
“I am not going to be investigated, am I?” she asked.
“Whatever for?” Hannibal asked calmly.
“I just admitted to murder,” Daisy pointed out.
“I am afraid that I am not at liberty to discuss confidential patient information with anyone, including the authorities. The only time it is permitted is if the information places the patient or someone else in danger.”
“Oh, good,” Daisy said, sighing in relief. “So I guess that the FBI man wasn’t here for me, then.”
“No, Jack Crawford is only interested in his work. He asks me for consultations on cases sometimes.”
“That is very James Bond of you, Dr. Lecter. Or maybe it would be more like Sherlock Holmes? I am still getting caught up on mug - uh, media. When I told Jessica that I didn’t have a phone, she was appalled and forced me to get one right away. I don’t think she quite believed me when I told her that I grew up in a castle without technology.”
“Did you?”
“I did. My boarding school was in a castle, and we weren’t allowed to have electronics,” she said, bending the truth a bit. There was no rule at Hogwarts about technology; it was just that it wouldn’t work with magical interference. “Before that though, I was locked in a cupboard under the stairs by my aunt and uncle, so I didn’t have access during that time either.”
“Perhaps you should have movie nights with your friends. Tell them to recommend their favorite music, movies, and books. People are made up of the things they love; when you get to know their favorite stories, you start to understand them better as people too.”
Daisy blinked at him for a moment. “Has anyone ever told you that you are an absolute genius?”
“Perhaps not in those exact words, not to come off as conceited,” he said, and she realized that she had managed to catch him off guard yet again.
Daisy laughed, and it echoed in the wood paneled room. Her session time was up, and she thanked Dr. Lecter again as she exited. He always had something new for her every session, and she couldn’t help but to feel that he was helping her a lot more than Dr. Du Maurier had. No offence to the woman, of course.
-
‘Dear Snape,
I have finally finished unpacking and have settled into my new house. I realized that I didn’t really have very many personal belongings, and actually had to go shopping in order to fully decorate the place. It has done wonders for me to have so much natural light coming in, and I am not burdened by old artefacts from the Black family line. I have very light wards so that muggles can still see and visit this place.
Don’t worry, I have taken precautions to hide everything even remotely magical from their sight. Everything here is almost entirely muggle, though. I even have a TV, laptop, and phone now. Jessica comes over and we make popcorn and watch movies. It was Dr. Lecter’s suggestion. He really is a brilliant man.
Jessica is a new friend I made in my dance class. She was recently scouted by an agency, and we went out to the club for celebratory drinks. Teddy is growing taller and taller by the day, and he can speak almost in full sentences now. Ron and Hermione are doing well too, both of them focused on their career for the most part.
I am happy and feel more fulfilled than I have in a very long time. Still, I can’t help but feel that something is missing. There is some sort of longing inside of me that I can’t quite get rid of. I feel it when I look at how happy Ron and Hermione are together, and I feel it when Luna dazedly wanders in my life to tell me wistfully about how Neville proposed to her.
You know me well, though, don’t you Snape? You know that I will never be happy with just anyone. I need and crave someone who will see me. Just me. Just Daisy. Someone who knows and understands everything big and small that has happened to me. A muggle would never understand, but wizards would only see me as a figurehead.
It has been on my mind for a while, since I have settled into my lessons and gotten the hang of Dr. Lecter’s advice. I never had much time at all for romance growing up. The closest thing was a crush on Cedric Diggory, and I do not need to remind you how tragic that is. Since then, there is really nothing.
My friends have been very busy lately and I haven’t gotten to see them as often, which is sad. They were with me through everything, and now we are growing up. I am making new friends, of course, but they are muggle and will never know the extent of everything that I went through. Minerva said that she would always be there to talk, but she is also busy being Headmistress.
No amount of muggle therapy will help me with these particular problems. Perhaps that is why I am still sending letters to dead people.
Yours, Daisy’
-
All of her lessons ended two weeks before Christmas, leaving Daisy feeling bereft all at once. She had made phenomenal progress in all areas, and even found herself singing to herself when alone. Her vocal trainer, Misty, had been amazed at Daisy’s transformation. Before, she had been too shy to raise her voice much. By the end of the class, she was singing strongly and confidently.
David too had declared that she now knew everything that he could teach her. He told her that she was welcome back anytime to keep up her training, so long as she helped the newbies with their form. As for her dance lessons, Miss Rodriguez referred her to a dance academy where she might learn more complex routines. “You have shown great promise,” she had told Daisy.
This time, she did not wait for Dr. Lecter’s advice to take the initiative. She enrolled in the dance academy and signed up for gymnastics as well. She enrolled in singing lessons with Misty again, and then, on a whim, she signed up for a gun safety training class. Guns in America were more common than lollipops, and Daisy wanted to be able to defend herself in the muggle way.
It took proof of residency, and she had to provide a visa proving that she was living here legally. It was well worth it to her, though.
Christmas was spent at the Weasley’s, of course. The house was filled with decorations and so many people, the presents overflowing so much that there were two trees in the house. Molly had a huge dinner prepared, and everyone was laughing and joking and exclaiming over gifts. Minerva had come, as well as Hagrid and Madame Maxime. All the Weasley’s were there, and Daisy greeted a heavily pregnant Fleur as an old friend.
With the press of loved ones though came the overwhelming sense of those who were glaringly absent. George without his Fred, Minerva without Albus or a glowering Severus. Teddy without Tonks and Remus, no Sirius. It was not the first Christmas without them, of course, but it still carried a fresh sting.
Ginny had invited Draco, who seemed a little bit out of his depth with all of the abundant holiday cheer. Luna and Neville were talking to him, putting the blonde boy more at ease. Daisy stepped over and pulled Neville into a hug, then Luna. She turned to Draco next, and he nodded coolly. “Potter,” he acknowledged.
“Draco,” she responded, pulling him in for a much more subdued hug. “I’m glad that you came.” She told him, because she had long since forgiven him for all the stupid shit they used to do as kids. He looked surprised, but also secretly pleased.
After presents had been exchanged and dinner had been eaten, Ron stood from the table and clinked his glass with his fork. “I would like to make an important announcement,” he said with a wide grin. Daisy broke out into a smile with tears in her eyes, knowing exactly what her best friend was about to say. Hermione stood too and clasped Ron’s hand. “We are having a baby!”
Everyone erupted into shouts of happiness and congratulations, George throwing up a confetti spell for the occasion. Daisy was sure that she was about to burst like confetti from happiness. She hugged her friends hard and drank some wine for Hermione, as she couldn’t. “I am so happy,” she told them, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks. “My best friends in the whole entire world are making a new human.”
“We want you to be the godmother,” Hermione said, tears in her eyes too. Ron was grinning, nodding emphatically. “Yes Daisy, you can’t refuse,” he added.
“Nor would I ever want to,” she told them, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.
After it got late, she bid all of them goodnight and happy Christmas. They wanted her to stay the night, but she told them that they had a full enough house already. She departed and took the portkey back to her home in Maryland. It had been a wonderful time, and she had soft dreams filled with snow and warm smiling faces for once.
Jessica met up with her after Christmas and they went to the club, where Daisy took just enough shots and got on the dance floor for once. It delighted her friend to see her finally letting loose, and they danced and drank until two in the morning. Jessica passed out on Daisy’s couch since her house was closest, and it was a new and fantastic experience that Daisy was definitely interested in repeating.
She had caught eyes all night from various people, but she had avoided their gaze entirely. Daisy might be ready to lose her inhibitions in public, but she was not ready for . . . anything else. Not yet. Definitely not yet.
“How were your holidays? You look like you are glowing,” Dr. Lecter said as he gestured her inside. She settled down on the now familiar chair, smiling contentedly at her psychiatrist.
“They were the best holidays I have ever had in my entire life. Excluding the fact that so many were missing from it. Still, I got to see all of my family, and even got to briefly connect with someone special.”
“Someone special? A lover?”
Daisy made a horrified noise that came out as a squeak. “Lover!?” she asked, covering her mouth as her face heated in mortification. “Dear lord, no. No, no, no, not at all. Draco, he was actually a childhood bully. We have both changed so much and have put our differences behind us. I would never think of him like that,” she said again, trying not to visibly gag.
“And that is why he is special?”
“He is special because I know how rough he has had it recently. His father was a very prestigious man, and he grew up thinking that he was better than everyone else because of his family name. His father ruined that by going to jail, and he has been facing harsh scrutiny ever since. He was at the Christmas party, and I let him know that I was glad he had come. He looked very uncertain, but pleased I had said so. He deserves happiness too. Like me, he has had his life dictated to him, and he is struggling with finding who he truly is.”
“You are very empathetic, even to those who have wronged you,” Dr. Lecter observed.
“Maybe I am more empathetic because of my past. I can see it when people cover up their pain with false confidence, or try to drive people away because they are hurting so much,” Daisy said, realizing it as she spoke. Then she cracked a smile. “Hermione calls it my ‘saving people thing’. I can’t help but to want to help others when I can see so clearly that they are suffering.”
“That is very honorable, Daisy. You must remember to not get lost in helping others, however. If you were to help everyone with every little thing, they will never grow as people on their own. In addition to that, you too will never be able to be your own person.”
Daisy chuckled. “Yes, I know that all too well. It does get tiring when everyone is vying for my attention, asking me for help for things that I am not even remotely qualified for. I was burned out for a long time, and that is why I sought out Dr. Du Maurier in the first place. Well, that, and also because of my PTSD. Hermione basically forced me to go, and I found that it helped me more than I could have realized.”
“Hermione is a true friend to you.”
“Yes, and ! “ she said, her heart jumping to her throat as she said, “she is pregnant! Ron announced it on Christmas, and they asked me to be the godmother!”
“This makes you happy,” he stated.
“Hell yes, I am ecstatic over it. They are getting all of the happiness that they deserve, and I know that they will give it to their baby too,” she said, her smile scrunching her eyes.
“Do you want that happiness too?” He asked, and at first Daisy didn’t quite understand what he meant. But then it clicked.
“Oh. Well, of course I want a partner. Someone who sees me just as I am, and who will love me even with all of my faults. I want to have a perfect fairytale wedding, and I want to have children. It’s just that . . . “ she said, trailing off.
“You have trouble meeting new people?”
“Well, no, not exactly. Jessica and I went out to the club and there were plenty of men there who were obviously interested. The thing is . . . that . . . well, they wouldn’t really understand where I am coming from. I may want those things, sure, but I know that I am not ready for it. I am not ready to place my trust in someone without knowing if they will ever truly understand.”
“How will you know if they can understand if you do not have some trust?”
Daisy let out a breath, and leaned back in her chair further. “I suppose it is a paradox of sorts. I don’t trust people because they won’t understand, and they can’t understand unless I trust them.”
“Start small at first, then. Let your new friend Jessica get to know you more, who you are personally. Once you feel that you can trust her, the rest will follow. You might find that people are more trustworthy than you think.”
-
‘Dear Snape,
This might horrify you to learn, but I now have my license to conceal carry in the USA. A gun, that is. It also might horrify you to learn that Hermione is now four months pregnant; you always did grumble about baby Weasley’s. I, on the other hand, am absolutely filled with happiness at that fact. They officially made me the godmother two weeks ago.
It’s April again, and the two year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts is next month. Everyone who wasn’t involved will be cheering and laughing and throwing huge parties. For us, it is a memorial of all of those that we have lost. It is a memorial of your death.
I am not going to the gathering at Hogwarts that Minerva is hosting, if only because I have recently been recruited to the circus. Yes, you read that correctly. I am in the circus now. It is very fun to walk the tightropes and spit fire. My cartwheels are truly fantastic, you should see them sometime. They even use me as a backup snake charmer occasionally, which I find very funny.
Oh! I have a piece of gossip that you might find very intriguing; Draco and Ginny are dating. Go figure.
Yours, Daisy’
-
Daisy basked in being in the circus; it was just like flying without a broom. High up off the ground, trapezing from each swinging bar. It made her heart soar, even though she knew there was a net below to catch her if she fell. With her bright outfit and face makeup she was anonymous even from the cheering crowds below, and she found that she didn’t mind this kind of attention.
They were cheering for what she could do, for what she enjoyed. Not for the fact of what she had done. She had invited Dr. Lecter, but she had no idea if he had accepted. He didn’t strike her as the sort of person to come to a circus, but that didn’t bother her. She did know that Ron and Hermione had come, cheering and clapping for her in the stands.
There was something so freeing about soaring through the air, relying on only her muscles to catch her in the well practiced routine. The wind on her face was familiar, but it was even more exhilarating than even flying on a broom.
When her act was done they met her outside her tent, smiling at her exuberant expression. “You were amazing, Daisy!” Ron exclaimed, pulling her in for a hug. “Truly,” Hermione added, pulling her in next. Her stomach was already large even for four months, and Daisy had to hug her from the side.
“You look about ready to pop already, Hermione! Do you think it’s twins?” Daisy teased.
“Well . . . “ Hermione said, making Daisy squeal.
“When did you find out?”
“Just a week ago. We thought we’d tell you now, after your show,” Ron said, grinning proudly at his wife.
“That is fantastic news!” Daisy enthused, pulling her in for another hug.
Two figures approached, and Daisy turned to take them in. “Dr. Lecter, you made it! I didn’t think you would, since this doesn’t seem like quite your thing,” Daisy said, waving as they came closer. “Ron, Hermione, this is Dr. Lecter. And . . . “ she said, at a loss as to who his friend was.
“Will Graham,” the unknown man responded, not offering a handshake.
“A pleasure to meet you both,” Hermione said, shaking Dr. Lecter’s hand. Ron repeated the sentiment, also shaking his hand. Neither of them offered a handshake to Will, reading his body language.
“To you as well,” Dr. Lecter responded easily before he turned to Daisy. “Your performance was breathtaking, thank you for inviting me.”
“Thank you for coming! Without you, I would never have had the courage to accept this job. I am glad that you came to see how much you have helped me,” she said easily, the bells on her sleeves jingling happily with her every movement.
“Yes, Daisy has changed so much over the past year because of you. We are glad to be here to thank you personally too,” Ron said, putting an arm around both Hermione and Daisy’s shoulders. Daisy happily leaned into the contact, basking in the warmth of their friendship.
“It is my job,” Dr. Lecter demurred, inclining his head. “Will and I are about to depart, we only came to offer our appreciation for the show.”
“Goodnight, then,” Daisy said easily, smiling contentedly even as Ron released them from his hug. She waved as they turned, and she felt completely fulfilled.
“It’s too bad that Jessica couldn’t make it. She has a big performance tomorrow and had to get to sleep early. I tell her that she practices too much, but then she says the same of me,” Daisy said with a laugh.
“Yes, we still need to meet her,” Hermione said, resting her head on Ron’s shoulder and her hand on her stomach.
“You’ll get the chance sooner or later. Maybe I’ll get tickets to one of her shows and we can go watch her dance,” Daisy offered.
“That would be nice.”
-
“It was very unprofessional of me to accept your invitation to the circus, and I must apologize,” Dr. Lecter said in introduction to their next session.
“Erm,” she said, not even having sat down yet. “You feel like you have crossed a line with a patient.” She deduced.
“I have.”
“Then I also crossed a line by inviting you. It was not my prerogative to make you uncomfortable by placing you into that situation, no matter how well intended it was meant.” She said, finally taking her seat.
“It was purely my decision to accept the invitation, so the blame is with me. That being said, I have thought for some time that you have been doing very well in our sessions. Standards dictate that I have become too close, and I am required to refer you to another psychiatrist,” Dr. Lecter said smoothly.
“I have thought the same thing for a while too,” Daisy confessed with a small smile. “Honestly though, I would not like a referral. I am on my own feet now, and you and Dr. Du Maurier have given me everything I need to continue by myself.”
“Are you sure you would not at least like the business card of my colleague? Just in case, of course.”
Daisy hummed, thinking about it for a moment. “Alright, just in case.” She conceded.
She left Dr. Lecter’s office much earlier than usual that day. “Thank you for everything, Dr. Lecter. I hope that you will view this as leaving on good terms,” she said with a muted smile.
“Of course. You are an extraordinary person, Daisy Potter, and I wish you the best for the future.”
“You too, Doctor. Have a good day,” she said, waving as she turned to leave.
-
‘Dear Snape,
So much has happened lately that it might make my head spin if I let it. The circus packed up and left town, and I did not follow after it (as much as I immensely enjoyed performing). Maybe the job will give some other person a new hope in life. I have decided that I no longer need a psychiatrist, and have been on my own for a while now.
Well, not quite. I have Jessica, who is quickly becoming a person of interest in the entertainment industry. I go to David’s classes occasionally to keep in shape so that I don’t lose my self defense moves. He laughed when I told him that I had been working in the circus for a while; he did not laugh when I performed five consecutive backflips.
I have recently taken up work as a dog trainer of all things, and I am taking French. Mostly because Fleur made a comment at my birthday party and Bill turned a bright red, and I desperately want to figure out what it was.
The water is nice here in Maryland, and I have taken up windsurfing in my free time. It’s too cold for that now, though, even with a wetsuit. There has apparently been a serial killer on the loose here, but I am not very scared about shocking headlines. I would know better than anyone to trust sensationalized media.
Yesterday was the anniversary of my parents murder, and I took the day to myself to truly reflect and honor them. I got copies of their pictures made from the photo album Hagrid gave to me and put them up on my mantelpiece. They are charmed that only I can see them moving, as Jessica does come over to visit me often.
I told her a little bit about my past, and she has opened up to me about her traumas too. She is a good friend, even if she does nag me about being so busy all the time. I say the same of her; her time is eaten up by her dance performances and practice. Neither of us mind as much as we say we do; we are both doing what we love.
Hermione cracked two ribs, and she is about to truly pop. She is having twins, I had forgotten to mention! She still has a month or two to go but she still hasn’t taken leave from the Ministry yet; you know how hardworking she is. Ron takes every chance he can get to visit her and bring her lunch and ice cream. They truly are perfect for each other.
Teddy is getting so tall, and he is truly a menace to poor Andromeda. He looks so much like Remus sometimes that it makes my heart ache. His tantrums are a sight to behold - his hair turns a bright red with his face to match.
Needless to say, I have been keeping very busy lately. Training dogs every day is a nice treat for me, I honestly can’t believe that I get paid to do it! The man that I work for, Mister Darrel, is the type to act tough but is actually a big softy on the inside. He loves his wife very much, and they invite me to lunch every day.
Yours, Daisy’
-
“Ah, sorry Mister Darrel, I can’t make lunch today. I am meeting a friend,” Daisy said, standing up from the new puppy that had just arrived. It licked at her hand, trying to get the treat she held.
“Alright, you have a good one, then,” the short stocky man said, waving her on. Daisy held up the treat, focusing back on the new puppy. “Sit,” she told him as he looked at her inquisitively, not moving. She used her other hand to push him gently down on his hind legs. “Sit,” she repeated, giving him the treat. Soon he would come to associate the word with the action.
“You can take the rest of the day off,” Darrel told her, crossing his dark haired arms across his barrel chest.
“Are you sure?” Daisy asked quickly, standing again and wiping the dog slobber off on her overalls. He was a tough kind of man, one who would only begrudgingly respect a person if they were a hard worker. He had never offered time off before.
“I can handle them alone for the rest of the day, no harm in it.”
Daisy eyed him, crooking an eyebrow at the dark haired man with her hands on her hips. “Alright, out with it; what’s the real reason?”
He was stubbornly silent for a long moment before he sighed. “Missus says I’m too hard on you,” he finally admitted.
Daisy laughed heartily at that. “Surely not, Sir; spending my days with dogs is not a hardship in the least. I will see you after my lunch break,” she said, taking her leave to meet Jessica at the diner two blocks away.
The day was bitterly cold, the sky completely overcast and threatening snow. The streets were mostly empty, and Daisy sang to herself as she walked. “In the bleak midwinter, frosty winds made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone,” she sang, recalling the words easily.
“You make beautiful music,” came a voice, a man stepping from a violin shop. Daisy startled a bit at the sudden words, but she smiled when she placed him.
“Thank you, I have been taking vocal lessons for a while,” she said, slowing down but not stopping her pace. She waved then continued her walk.
The man’s eyes followed her and Daisy felt his gaze on her back. She tried to dismiss it as paranoia, but her survivor’s instincts were telling her to get far away. She quickened her pace and sighed in relief when she arrived at the cafe, Jessica greeting her with her usual enthusiasm.
They talked and laughed and joked as they caught up, until eventually Daisy had to head back to her job. She pointedly took the long way, avoiding the music shop on her way back. She did not encounter that man again, until she later read in the papers that he died while trying to attack Dr. Hannibal Lecter.
“Daisy, you do not have an appointment,” Lecter said in surprise.
“I didn’t know that office hours required an appointment,” she said, taking in his still healing face. “Besides, I was coming to check up on a friend. I read about what happened, are you alright?”
“I am fine. Just a few cuts and bruises,” he said, avoiding her eyes.
“That is not what I meant, Doctor Lecter, and you know it,” she admonished. “You took a life in self defense.” She lowered her voice. “I know the experience. It might seem laughable for me to offer, but I am here if you ever need to talk.”
“I have my own psychiatrist.”
“Still, the offer stands,” she said, catching him staring at his hands. She put her hand on his and he startled. “Hey,” she said, finally getting him to look up at her. “The blood does wash off, eventually.”
He nodded slowly, and she retracted her touch. “I would have killed the bastard too, if I had been here . . . “ she mused. “Maybe I should apply to be a bodyguard next,” she joked, and he cracked a tiny smile in response.
“Here. It’s not a business card, but it at least has my number on it. I have to go to work now, but call me if you need to. Or if you want to.”
He took the piece of paper. “You work with dogs?” He asked.
“Yes, how’d you know?”
“I can smell them,” he said, wrinkling his nose.
Daisy laughed boisterously, pulling her shirt to her nose. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was that bad. I’ll be sure to do laundry soon. Have a good day, Dr. Lecter,” she said, waving on her way out.
-
‘Dear Snape,
Hermione gave birth to two happy twins, and both Ron and Hermione have been terribly sleep deprived lately. I quit my job training dogs so that I could stay with them and help them around the house. I am taking my role as godmother very seriously, I can assure you.
They are named Rose and Hugo; they are fraternal twins. I love them even more than I thought I would, which seems almost impossible. Jessica frets that I have abandoned her, which is so far from the truth. We met just yesterday.
I made friends with my last psychiatrist, Hannibal Lecter. He is a very strange and interesting man. I wouldn’t have sought him out again, but I had read that he had been attacked and had killed the attacker in self defense. I relate with that quite a lot.
Ever since we became friends he has been inviting me to dinner parties and orchestras. I’ve had to decline most of the time, since I’ve been so wrapped up in the twins and Teddy. There was a chance to go to the opera with him though, and I didn’t particularly care for the experience. I didn’t tell him that of course; he is very passionate about those types of things.
Since I’ve been practically living with Ron and Hermione, I have been practicing my cooking skills. I think I am getting better at it; my friends haven’t complained, so I am taking that as a good sign. It feels good to be so close to them again, friends who know truly who I am and love and accept me exactly for who I am. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed them until I came back.
Yours, Daisy’
-
“Are you kicking me out?” Daisy teased, laughing as she set plates down for Ron and Hermione.
“No, of course not, mate,” Ron protested.
“It’s not that we’re kicking you out, Daisy, it’s just that the twins are more manageable lately. If we don’t send you on your way now, you might never leave,” Hermione explained, watching as Daisy sat down at her own place at the table.
“You need to get back to doing what you love,” Ron agreed with his mouth already full of food.
“Ron, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Hermione chided, something she had been telling him since first year. He ignored her; something that he had been doing since first year.
“Alright, you’re right. Still, I will be over to visit often,” Daisy said seriously, leveling a fork eye level and flicking the point between the two. “And you will call me if you ever need help, or a babysitter.”
“We promise,” they both said at the same time.
-
‘Dear Snape,
It is April once again, and that means that the anniversary of Voldemort’s defeat is coming up again next month. The third anniversary. It seems like it has been a lot longer than three years, but at the same time it feels like the battle had happened just yesterday.
Ron and Hermione kicked me out a month ago and I ended up taking a bodyguard job just for an inside joke. You should see the looks on people’s face when I tell them my current profession; it’s like they can’t quite believe it, but they still want to challenge me.
I suppose that it is a little bit funny that a short lady like me can take down a man twice my size. The gear I have to wear is very fascinating, almost like I’m a spy or something. I get to wear a bulletproof vest and an earpiece. Of course I carry a gun as well, since this is apparently a very dangerous job.
I work for a man whose name I don’t even know; that is classified information. Still, as exciting as it all sounds, it is actually a very boring job. I just stand around, watch cameras, and make sure that no one is messing around. Ron says that his job is mostly the same, except he has a lot more paperwork to fill out. I am glad now that I did not become an auror; the boredom is driving me crazy already.
Yours, Daisy’
-
Maybe it wasn’t Daisy’s actions at all that attracted danger; maybe it was just Daisy herself. It didn’t even happen when she was on duty as a bodyguard. They were coming from another snooze inducing opera, and Daisy could not comprehend why Will would agree to accompany them. Then again, she kept agreeing to go to the opera with Hannibal, so she couldn’t judge too harshly. The man was very persuasive when he wanted to be.
“Her voice is so powerful,” Hannibal was saying passionately, and Will was listening intently though his eyes were down and his head cocked to the side. They were awash in a sea of people leaving, but they quickly cut off into an alleyway to find Hannibal’s car.
“You.” A voice said, and Daisy turned swiftly to find a scruffy man hiding in the shadows.
“Gideon,” Will and Hannibal identified at the same time.
“Yes, yes, hold the applause,” he said haughtily, raising his arms as if to silence inaudible cheers. “I didn’t know that you had such a pretty lady in your company, Doctor Lecter. Too bad she has to die.” He lurched quickly towards her.
It was an inexpertly initiated lunge, and Daisy swayed to the left and grabbed his arm. With a foot at the back of his knee, she had him down on the ground with a foot on his throat in the span of three breaths. “I am not just a pretty lady,” Daisy told him conversationally, like the point of her heel was not digging into his adams apple.
But then he reached into his pocket, there was the glint of metal, and she felt the tearing in her stomach before she heard the gunshot. “I’ve - “ she tried to rasp, but she coughed blood instead. Miscalculated. He must have hit a lung.
She swayed, putting all of her weight on the man’s throat even as she lost balance and began to sway. The pain in her abdomen was a searing torn thing, the gurgling blood coming out thick and viscous. It was like time slowed, and she realized that she could not harm this man. It would have to be someone else. Daisy could not harm a muggle; not when she had fought an entire war to defend them.
Instead of crushing the man’s windpipe then, she removed her foot and stumbled a few steps away. Another cough came, and it spilled blood over her lips and chin. All of this had happened over the space of seconds, and Abel was already standing and running into the darkness as Will and Hannibal rushed over to her.
Daisy was still standing, and Hannibal was holding the wound on her stomach. Will had his phone to ear, and her vision was going a bit fuzzy. “You’ll be alright,” Hannibal told her, making her laugh and choke up more blood.
“Course,” she said, gasping as the pain began to override everything else. “Had worse.”
She was conscious when the ambulance arrived, conscious for the ride to the hospital. It was when they reached the emergency room and they gave her anesthetic that she finally went dark, feeling the pain fade away. Briefly she wondered if she would see Dumbledore again so soon.
She opened her eyes groggily, feeling very good for being in a hospital bed. Various tubes were connected to her, and she smiled when she saw Ron beside her. There was a pleasant warmth on her hand, and she moved it, running her fingertips over it.
“Daisy?” a low voice asked, and she turned to her right to see Hannibal beside her in a chair pulled up all the way to the side of her bed.
“Hullo, have you guys been here long?” She asked in a soft melodic tone, sounding almost as airy as Luna.
“For a night. Are you alright? You sound out of it, mate,” Ron said worriedly.
“She has been sedated, of course she is loopy,” Hannibal said sharply.
“Where’s ‘Mione?” She asked, feeling like it took a year to blink.
“She is with the twins right now. We had Poppy come to look over you, no offense to this fine establishment,” he said, his voice low as if he were sharing a secret.
“Ahhh, I miss Madame Pomfrey. I haven’t visited the castle in so long . . . I need to talk to Dumbledore again . . . “ she said, trailing off with a small smile. A familiar short figure entered the room with cups of coffee, and Daisy made a noise of happiness. “Jessica, my love, light of my life, you are here too. Did Ron and ‘Mione tell you? How’d you all know anyways?”
“You didn’t show up for your date with Teddy. We sent a message, but you weren’t there and we got worried,” Ron said. “You never miss your Teddy dates.”
“Mmm. It’s true. I love Teddy sooooooo much,” she confessed, her eyes closing pleasantly.
-
‘Dear Snape,
You always chided me for putting myself in danger, but it wasn’t my fault this time I swear. Who knew that going to the opera with friends would end in me getting shot in the stomach? This time I wasn’t the intended target. At least, I don’t think so. The man is an escaped criminally insane patient, so the police don’t really know his motivations.
The bullet went through my left lung, but it thankfully missed my spine. It was slowed down by my rib, which is probably why I am still alive. Madame Pomfrey came at the request of Ron and Hermione, so I was able to heal a lot faster. Still, it took a week in the hospital before they finally let me come home.
They prescribed me pain pills, but I haven’t taken any. Instead, I’ve been taking much more effective pain potions that Poppy sent over. You see what happens when you leave me alone for so long? For a moment after I had been shot, I was wondering if I might see you and Dumbledore again. My parents, Sirius, Remus. All of the people that I have lost.
I miss all of you so much. Yes, even you. Sorry if that seems sappy, the side effects of pain potions aren’t much better than muggle sedatives.
Anyway, you wouldn’t believe it, but guess who is staying here to take care of my sorry ass? Well . . . Ron and Hermione are too busy by far with the twins, Jessica is always busy with her dancing career, and Hannibal has his own stuff going on. He works with the FBI sometimes, yah know. Ginny too has her own hectic schedule, playing for the Harpies and all.
So I find my couch being occupied by none other than Draco Malfoy of all people, and his cooking is atrocious. If the bullet didn’t kill me then his soup surely will. We have become friends of a sort, though we still love bickering with each other most. Just over petty stuff, really.
Really, it’s not bad at all.
Yours, Daisy’