The Greener Side of the Abyss

I wince as I watch the black smoke curl out of the cooking tent, floating away into the evening.

"Who the fuck let Zabini cook?" I mutter to no one, kicking at the sand beneath my foot viciously. Bugger, does someone have a death wish on this camp or something? Weasley clambers out of his tent, humming that infernal song they used to sing at Quidditch matches. 'Weasley is our King.' or some other rubbish.

"That's why all we Gryffindors sing..."

"Weasley, who the fuck let Zabini cook?"

He looks confused. "What? Those aren't the words." He notices the smoke coming from the largest of our tents and recognition dawns on his face. Oh well done. "Be damned if I know Daph. Oh, I remember, I said I'd only cook again if he did my share of the washing up, but he refused." Weasley shrugs.

"Are you trying to poison us all?" I ask, exasperated. "And how many times do I have to say, just because I'm the only girl here, does not mean you can call me Daph."

"All right Greengrass," he says nastily. I don't pursue it any longer; me and Weasley have only just got to be on speaking terms. God only knows how I ended up with him as my partner. Well, actually I do know. It had something to do with Zabini ending up with Smith, due to certain erm... benefits and Pansy going off with that hot Ravenclaw. Always did have more hormones than brains the cow. And surprisingly, Weasley was the only Gryffindor to get through Auror training, so he didn't know anyone. At least Zabini had the sense to join our pair when we had to join up. Although that may have been because of me mouthing 'If you leave me on my own, I will kill you. I know a hundred and eleven ways to kill someone. Slowly.' than actual sense.

No one, not even God, knows why the people at Auror HQ put four newbie Aurors on the case of following the remaining Death Eaters across the bloody Sahara Desert. I think it probably has something to do with the fact that me and Weasley passed with honors, and that Weasley is the best friend of the-boy-who-lived-numerous-times-and-then-killed-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-but-I-suppose-we-can-now-he's-dead, than anything else. I kid you not; the Daily Prophet actually used that title the other week.

So here we all are, stuck in the middle of a bloody hot desert, after two weeks of hiking, sweating our arses off because, due to the no magic rule, we can't cast cooling charms. Apparently if we use any magic, the Death Eaters can track us. The only positive side is that they can't use any either, due to similar circumstances, so I know that several Death Eaters are sweating their arses off as well. Makes them seem slightly less evil to imagine them like that.

Although, HQ did make sure we weren't completely useless. I can throw a hand-grenade like it's nobodies business, and thanks to Wesley's tutorage, I'm a damn good shot with my guns. I don't want to think about why Weasley knew how to shoot a gun. Some things need no thought; else you'd go mad.

I down the rest of my beer as Zabini announces dinner's ready, and go over to the other tent to announce to Smith that he's about to be poisoned. I stop a few feet from the canvas, the sounds emitted from it telling me that I really don't want to walk in.

"You might want to finish that up quite quickly Zach," I call from where I'm stood. "Dinner's just about ready."

I roll my eyes as I walk away back towards the fire. Jesus, you'd think it was him who hadn't had sex in more than two weeks, not me and Weasley. Oh yeah, no magic means no silencing charms. Brilliant.

"Blaise, what exactly is this?" I ask cautiously, sitting down next to Weasley around the fire as he hands me a plate of whatever it is.

"It's chicken Daph," he answers.

"Right," I reply. "Although I still don't know whether to eat it, or pay my last respects to it."

Weasley laughs and tucks in. "Come on Daph, it's actually vaguely edible for once."

Smith joins us finally and it isn't long before we've all devoured everything edible. After a quick water fight with Weasley during the washing up, I wonder out of the cooking tent to find Zabini and Smith snuggled up talking about, well, whatever you talk about when you're together. I wouldn't know, having been a hermit ever since I started Auror training. Oh yes, three years is a long time to be a hermit. I look over to the other side of the fire and find Weasley sat there, smoking a cigarette and looking out over the sand dunes to the quickly setting sun.

"Budge up and give us one," I say, sitting next to him as he hands me a fag. He lights it quickly and I nod my thanks as I take a drag and exhale it slowly.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask Weasley, who's so deep in thought it takes him a few seconds to reply.

"People," he says, sighing. "Remembering Hermione. Wondering how Ginny's doing on her first week. How Neville's getting on with his students. Thinking whether Harry's out of St Mungos yet. How Seamus is doing with his old mam. When Dean's funeral is, things like that. Don't you ever wonder about people?"

I snort. "Why should I? Parkinson can rot in hell for all I care. Blaise is here with me. Crabbe's dead, Goyle's dead, Millie's dead, Theodore's dead and if Malfoy isn't dead yet he will be when we catch up with him. Curse of being a Slytherin, you either end up dead, or keep your feelings to yourself. Simple as that."

Weasley frowns. "You must miss them though. Don't you miss them?"

I think of them, each for a few seconds. "I miss Millie. She was my only girlie friend. She used to make me laugh, and she was the only person I could discuss girlie things with. I miss Theo most though." I sigh. "He was my best friend; I'd known him ever since I could remember. We started Hogwarts as the only two who knew each other. He... he cheered me up when I was down. He told me I could do anything when I doubted myself. He comforted me when I was scared. And best of all he could hit guys one when they hurt me. Yeah, I miss Theo the most. More than anyone can ever know."

Ron nods. Hold on, when the hell did he become Ron? "It's hard," he begins, staring out, shielding his eyes from the sun. "Harder than anything else. It kind of eats you from the inside."

I stare at him, thinking of the comment Granger made about him having the emotional range of a teaspoon. Wow, Granger could be wrong. "You really miss Hermione don't you?"

"More and more every day. When you're younger, you think you're invincible, you think you've got forever. And then it suddenly hits you; you haven't. You've barely got that day. That realization floored me, made me completely paralyzed." He stubs out his cigarette on the log next to him. "But slowly the feelings are returning. You've got Blaise, and I've got Harry, and I've got you." He turns and grabs my hands in his. "And the great thing is, I don't have to worry about you because I know you can look after yourself. Come on, it's getting cold. We'd best get settled for the night."

He yanks me up by the arm and we wave goodnight to Zabini and Smith as they crawl into their tent. Weasley undresses out side whilst I'm in the tent, and then we both clamber into out sleeping bags, as the sun finally completely disappears behind the dunes. And as I lay there, a strange feeling washes over me, one that I haven't felt in a long time, not since I was lying on the Slytherin common room couch, in Theo's arms. I feel happy and I feel content with the situation, and it scares the hell out of me.

"You're happy aren't you? With being like this," Ron mutters into the darkness. Emotional range of a teaspoon my arse.

"Goodnight Ron."

"Goodnight Daphne."

I smile. He called me Daphne.