Daphne tries to enjoy her Valentine’s Date with Corban, but her distraction is noticed and when Corban realizes what is bothering his witch, he has no choice but to tell the Dark Lord.

When Daphne had left her friends and headed for the castle entrance, her mind was preoccupied. She was hopeful that her friend wouldn’t feel like she’d betrayed her trust, but Daphne felt it was necessary to tell Draco what had happened.

Hopefully, he would be able to help Hermione deal with her past.

When Daphne finally reached the entrance to the school, Corban was waiting for her with a single red rose in his hand. He bowed formally as she walked towards him, handing her the flower and placing a gentle kiss on the back of her hand.

“Miss Greengrass, you look stunning this evening.”

“You look handsome as well, Lord Yaxley.” Daphne smiled demurely, and he did. His hair was plaited back as always and his robes were the darkest blue, matching his eyes perfectly. Corban offered her his arm, which she took immediately and the two walked towards Hogsmeade and their dinner reservation.

When they entered the restaurant, Daphne was impressed by the opulence of the interior. Fine rich tapestries in burgundy and gold, with sheer gossamer curtains surrounding each table that outlined the walls. In the center of the restaurant was an open dance floor, as well as a small quartet playing strings of classical music. The lighting was romantic and the rich smells of cardamom and sage blended with the finer notes of the food, wafting through the air.

The hostess led them to their table, where Corban ordered an expensive bottle of elf made wine, which their waiter returned with promptly. Menus were left, and Daphne was overwhelmed with all the selections—finally choosing the veal, while Corban settled for a steak.

Once the wine had been served and the meals ordered, Corban asked Daphne about her classes.

“They are going well.” Daphne offered. “Professor Vector is very impressed with my research so far, and I’m hoping that she will allow me to continue it into next year. Charms, transfiguration and Defense are all good, although our new Defense teacher leaves something to be desired.”

Corban chuckled. “Ah yes, Dawlish...he’s a bit of a plonker but not a bad Auror. I’d imagine he’s a bit timid when it comes to actual practical skills although he’s not a bad dueler, but he’s taken one too many curses to the head.”

Daphne giggled. “Yes, he seems a bit odd, but I’m sure it could’ve been worse.” Corban nodded, and reached for Daphne’s hand giving it a quick squeeze. Soon their meals came, which they ate in silence as Daphne’s mind still on her friend, worried for her.

Corban, noticing his witch’s distraction, cleared his throat a bit. “What’s the matter, little love. Your mind seems to be elsewhere tonight.”

Daphne blushed in embarrassment, but was quick to get herself under control.

“I’m alright. Just a bit distracted, I guess.”

“About what?” Sighing unhappily, Daphne made eye contact with her intended, who immediately noted the sadness radiating from his witch’s gaze. Giving her hand another squeeze, Corban gave her a serious look of concern. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” At this, Corban raised his eyebrows sharply. “It’s not about me, it’s about Hermione.”

At the darkening expression on her wizard’s face, Daphne was quick to reassure him.

“It’s nothing anyone has done...at least not lately.”

Corban now looked a bit confused. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Hermione shared something with me, in confidence of sorts. I told Draco, Theo and Blaise—and made them take a wand oath because they needed to know. But I’m not sure...if I tell you...you will be obligated to tell the Dark Lord.”

Corban sat back in contemplation, wondering what could be so awful that would require an oath. “I think you’ll need to let me be the judge of that, little love.”

Daphne sighed unhappily, but decided to share her concerns with her wizard. She told him everything Hermione had shared about being bullied as a child in the Muggle World, having no friends—when she got to the part where Hermione had been assaulted at the age of seven, and what her magic did to protect her?

Corban’s face turned dark and forbidding.

At the end of the story, Corban sat back and pondered what his witch had told him.

There was no doubt he’d have to tell the Dark Lord. If the boy wasn’t dead, he’d soon be, probably his family along with him. Corban didn’t feel bad at all if that was his Lord’s decision. Why Hermione chose to keep this to herself for so long was a greater mystery. She must have been so deeply traumatized by what had happened, she’d shut herself down...fighting for your right to survive will do that to a person. The fact she was so young and managed not only to persevere but to exact her own plans so flawlessly was something to be greatly admired and respected.

Looking over at his love, he could see her hesitation and fear.

“Little love, I know it wasn’t easy telling me this, but you did the right thing. I will have to tell the Dark Lord, and he will be furious—not that his daughter kept it from him. I suspect he will be even more impressed with her Slytherin nature, but he will want to avenge her mistreatment. I want you to know that the Flint’s have been taken care of. Archibald unfortunately, has made some unwise investments and has lost a good deal of his fortune over the last two months.” Corban smirked and his witch nodded her head in satisfaction. “Marcus on the other hand, well, he will be met with an unfortunate accident soon—that’s all I’m at liberty to divulge.”

“Will he survive?”

“Possibly, but not intact.” Corban smirked wickedly, causing Daphne to giggle momentarily, before her mood became somber once again.

“What will you tell the Dark Lord?”

Corban swirled his wine for a moment, thinking about the best way to handle the situation. “Would you be amenable to giving me your memory of the conversation?” He inquired softly. “I think it might be better for the Dark Lord to hear it from his daughter’s point of view.”

Sighing reluctantly, Daphne gripped her napkin in her hands, twisting it in agitation. She thought about what Corban was asking of her, and while she knew he’d tell the Dark Lord regardless, perhaps it might be helpful for him to see how well Hermione seemed to have handled everything.

Although she doubted very much their Lord would see it that way.

Silently she nodded her head, bringing the memory to the forefront to allow Corban to extract it. Once the memory was safely stored in a vial he’d transfigured from one of the water goblets on the table, he paid for the dinner and escorted his witch back to the castle. As they’d reached the entrance, Corban moved Daphne into a private alcove and sat her down, reaching into his robes and pulling out a small, rectangular box.

When he handed it to his witch, she just looked confused, her eyes questioning.

Bless her—she’d truly never expected him to offer a betrothal gift, and he’d hesitated in doing so, but Marlene had reminded him that Daphne was still pure, and deserved such consideration from him. Suitably chastened, he’d picked out a simple, but elegant bracelet from his family’s vault. It was a piece worn by his grandmother, on his father’s side. When Daphne opened the box, her eyes shot up in wonder and he smiled softly.

“Corban...you didn’t have to.” Daphne stuttered out in shock as she stared at the bracelet, glinting in the lowlight of the alcove.

Getting down on his knees, Corban took his witch’s right hand and clasped the bracelet on her wrist, silently murmuring a spell to seal the clasp in place. He then raised her hand, and kissed it reverently.

“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. You are precious to me, little love, and deserve to have the best of everything I can provide. This shows to everyone my regard for you, so I hope you’ll wear it with pride.”

Daphne nodded, speechless—but leant over and kissed her wizard softly—which soon turned into a heated snog until they heard footsteps approaching. Releasing her from his embrace, Corban waved his wand returning them both to their pristine state, before he escorted his witch back into the castle walls.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, little love. I will write to you sometime next week.”

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Corban.”

Her wizard grinned and with one last kiss and a wink, he turned around and walked back to the village, where Daphne had no doubt his next stop would be to see Hermione’s father, and the thought made her a bit ill. She had no idea how the Dark Lord would react on seeing the memory she’d given Corban. She didn’t think the Dark Lord was capable of feeling things like guilt or remorse—but she knew he cared for Hermione, despite his darker propensities and it made her wonder if she shouldn’t warn her friend.

Corban Yaxley was a loyal Death Eater.

He’d been initiated into the Dark Lord’s ranks a few years out of school, at the bidding of his own father, who had gone to school with the then Tom Riddle. His father was gone now, and Yaxley had always imagined that his family line would die with him. Now that he was to marry, a witch over half his junior, he knew it was a realistic possibility that in some years hence, he would sire an heir.

He had talked with Hermione on many occasions and seen her at the right hand of her father, and he’d never once thought of her as weak nor emotional. But apparently, she was very good at concealing her emotions—which now as he’d come to realize—was a self-protective mechanism.

Apparating to McKinnon Manor, he felt the wards accept him as he walked towards the front entrance. When he arrived and knocked, a tiny house elf answered the door and welcomed him inside. Asking the creature if his Lord was available, the elf nodded jerkily and walked him towards the study where his Lord had taken residence. When he entered, he was unsurprised to find Marlene sitting on the couch, reading through a book, while His Lord was sitting behind his desk, talking with Lucius Malfoy.

He bowed and was greeted immediately.

“Ah, Corban,” nodded Lord Voldemort, “what brings you here at this hour.”

Corban stood stiffly and tried to speak as calmly as he could. “My Lord, I am sorry to come by unannounced, but something has come to my attention that I felt you would want to hear about immediately.”

Marlene looked up and smiled softly. “Is everything alright, Corban? Did something happen with Daphne?”

“Not as such, My Lady. This actually has to do with Hermione, My Lord.”

Voldemort leant forward on his desk, giving his undivided attention to his follower. “And just what is of concern about my daughter, that has you coming here at this hour?”

Corban reached into his robes and pulled out the vial, the silvery wisp of Daphne’s memory swirling inside it. Handing it over to his Lord, he took a seat next to Lucius who was watching him warily. Marlene however, stood up quickly and moved over to stand next to Tom.

“Did Hermione give this to you?”

“No, My Lady—Daphne did. She was concerned for Hermione and shared this with me. I asked her for the memory as I felt it might be better for you to witness their conversation yourself.”

Marlene nodded and looked at Tom, who was eyeing the memory with veiled intensity. Moving over to the pensieve, he took Marlene’s hand and together they entered Daphne’s memory.

As they were watching it, Lucius turned and quietly asked. “How upset is this going to make our Lord.”

Yaxley shrugged, “I’d imagine he’s going to be out for blood.”

Lucius paled considerably and waited until Voldemort came out of the pensieve. When he did, his face was passive but his eyes were blazing red.

When Marlene came out however, her reaction shocked the other wizard’s in the room. Her magic lashed out in a fit of rage and all the windows exploded outwards, causing both Lucius and Corban to stand up in shock at the display of raw magical power. Her eyes were black, and she was visibly having difficulty controlling her rage.

Voldemort moved over and both wizard’s could feel his dark magic swirling around his witch in an attempt to calm her.

“This is my fault!” She hissed at Tom.

“No, we are both to blame. But there are others as well and they will pay for what they’ve done.” Glaring over at Corban, his Lord hissed in fury. “You will find me this person, and his family. You will do this, Corban or you will feel my wrath—are we understood?”

Corban bowed deeply, knowing that his Lord was angry on behalf of his only child and heir. “Yes, my Lord. I will find those responsible and bring them to you.”

Voldemort nodded, then looked at Lucius. “You will view the memory, Lucius, and then we will discuss what punishment your son will receive for harming my child in such a way.”

Lucius paled, but before he could move, Marlene’s hand shot out in anger. “You will not punish Draco. He was just a boy, who was taught at his Father’s knee.” She then snarled at Lucius in anger. “You’re hatred and bigotry caused my daughter to suffer! I think the better question is how should I punish you!”

Lucius didn’t say a word but moved over to the pensieve and watched the memory. When he returned, he placed his head in his hands, shaking in fury.

Fury at what had happened to Hermione, but anger at himself that his beliefs and expectations caused the chain reaction that had hurt his son’s intended—a witch whom he now viewed as a daughter.

Looking up humbly, Lucius bowed his head and spoke firmly. “I will accept whatever punishment you both deem necessary. Only know that my sorrow echoes your own. I have come to care for Hermione as a daughter, and I am devastated on her behalf. I would give my life to protect hers.”

Marlene sighed, sensing the truth of Lucius words. Looking up at Tom, he was watching her closely, waiting to see if she sensed any deceit from the blonde wizard. Marlene shook her head resignedly and left the room—not wanting those present to see her break down over her daughter’s pain.

Tom watched his witch leave, unsure of what to do. Sitting down, he waved his hand and firewhiskey appeared for himself and his two followers. “What shall I do, Lucius? How do I as a Father, avenge my daughter, when one of the biggest proponents of her pain is the wizard she loves—whom I’ve given my blessing to? Am I supposed to do nothing? I would crucio the boy if he were here at this moment. Yet, I know my daughter would never forgive such a transgression.”

Lucius sat there thoughtfully, wondering how to make this situation right. “I know if it was a daughter of mine, I would move heaven and earth to make it right for her.” Taking a sip, Lucius gazed over at Yaxley, who was staring off into space. “If I know anything about Hermione, my Lord, is that she abhors being perceived as weak in any way. I remember thinking to myself how utterly brilliant she was when she blackmailed me back her fourth year.”

Voldemort smirked, remembering how proud he felt when Nagini had told him how his own child had bested Lucius and Severus.

“She is formidable, but she is also my daughter. And then there is her mother, who will blame herself needlessly for giving Hermione up, when there was simply no other way.”

“I will find those responsible, my Lord.” Corban promised. “As for Hermione? I’m afraid my witch felt uncertain of your daughter’s reaction in sharing this memory. Daphne has been a loyal friend and was devastated by Hermione’s confession.”

“I saw that for myself, Corban. Perhaps it’s time I paid a visit to Hogwarts and have a long overdue conversation with my daughter.”

Lucius and Yaxley sat there in silence, wondering what the outcome of that conversation would be.