Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin

Fin

As Daphne's eyes slowly opened, the first thing she saw was the top of the canopy that covered her bed. Turning her head to the left, and then to the right revealed green curtains, which blocked out the outside world. While she observed her surroundings, the young girl's higher brain functions began to turn on, and she was able to realize something about her situation.

The soft bed underneath her was warm and comforting, yet she could not take any solace in it. No noise penetrated her curtains, which were charmed for privacy, making her feel alone. Not to mention she was tired. Actually it was more like exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Drained. That was the word she was looking for. She felt drained. Like all of the energy she once had was just gone, evaporated, along with whatever emotions she might have once possessed.

The events of last night played heavily in her mind. They were like a plague, haunting her, taunting her, telling her that she was powerless, that no matter what she did or how strong she became, nothing would change. She felt helpless, incapable, invalid, like nothing she did mattered because she couldn't do anything to make a difference.

This feeling of helplessness, it had all started with Professor Snape's announcement that Hermione Granger had been killed. The response given by Slytherin House had been mixed. Most didn't really care. To them, Hermione was just some muggleborn student who happened to be friends with Harry Potter. But there were a few who seemed to feel genuine regret at the loss of life. Of course, there were also those who had been overjoyed at news of Hermione's untimely demise. Draco Malfoy had been the most vocal of this group.

He was now sporting a broken nose via Blaise's fist.

After the announcement Daphne had been in a state of shock. At least she thought it was shock. Her mind had been locked in a sort of hazy state. Nothing had seemed real at that point. It all felt like some horrible dream, a nightmare that the blond-haired, blue-eyed Hogwarts student wanted to wake up from as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, this was no dream. Hermione was dead. Professor Snape had confirmed it himself.

Getting out of bed, Daphne decided to go about her morning ritual before the others woke up. She took a shower, got dressed, and then found herself sitting down before a mirror, using an enchanted comb to get the tangles and knots out of her hair. It was an easy process, one that she had done thousands of times and didn't require her to think.

Black rims sat under her eyes, reflected by back the mirrors surface. She hadn't got much sleep last night. Maybe two or three hours at the most.

While combing her hair, Daphne's ice blue eyes moved to glance at one specific bed, the one that contained the reason she hadn't gotten much sleep last night.

Tracey Davis lay in bed, curled up into a ball, looking like a mess. The sheets were a tangled mass of twisted fabric, denoting to a restless sleep. From where she sat, the young blond could easily see the red rims of Tracey's eyelids, and even though the lights were dim, pick out the tear tracks on her face.

The death of Hermione had been much worse for Tracey than it had for her. Daphne had liked the muggleborn girl, but she was not friends with her to the extent that Tracey was. Those two, along with Lisa Turpin, had been very close.

Last night had been singularly awful for Tracey. The brunette with the normally upbeat and cheerful personality had practically collapsed into Daphne's arms the moment the shock of hearing about her friends death had worn off. For most of the night, she had cried into Daphne's shoulder, soaking her clothes in tears and howling out her sorrow. Even Pansy Parkins, someone who despised muggleborns with a passion and would have probably been more than happy to make snide remarks about Hermione's death, had not said a single word to the two of them.