His isolation felt complete. Stephen ate alone, slept alone and worried alone. He'd poured over the spells he'd copied from Hermione's books over and over, but he couldn't bring himself to perform dark magic. It felt like a slippery slope and he was worried that if he took that step there might not be a way to come back at all.
The knock at the door made him jump and he looked around wildly. He hadn't realised he'd fallen asleep on the sofa. He quickly gathered his parchment and stuffed it back under the loose window ledge to hide it before making his way to the door.
In contrast to how elegant and clean Daphne looked, Stephen was rather dishevelled. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days and his hair was still sticking up from where he'd been asleep. He opened the door hesitantly and blinked his surprise. "Daphne," He said, completely thrown, "Er... what--what are you doing here?" His eyes drifted to the chain around her neck. Oh. What day was it?