For the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition
Holyhead Harpies, Beater 2
Mandatory: Write about growing old on a winter day(s) OR youthfulness on a spring night(s).
Optional: (word) asleep (word) muffle
And for the Count Your Buttons Event on Hogwarts (Daphne Greengrass, cascade)
Thank you, Harpies for beta-ing!
Blaise swallows dryly when Daphne creeps into the common room. Her emerald eyes are alert and devoid of sleepiness, and her dark hair has been thrown into a messy bun. He tries not to notice how lovely she looks, but it's like trying not to notice that Hagrid is incredibly tall.
"It's the middle of the night," he says. "You should be asleep."
Daphne smirks at him, her eyes twinkling. "So should you."
She walks to the entrance of the common room. Blaise swears softly under his breath and abandons his textbook, following her. "What are you doing?"
The girl turns, a dangerous, mischievous smile on her lips. "I've never snuck out before," she answers, and she says it with the same casual air as someone confessing they've never eaten a Chocolate Frog. "Tonight seems like a good night to change that."
His jaw falls slack as he stares at her incredulously. Once, sneaking out hadn't been a big deal. Now… "Daph, you may be a Slytherin, but the Carrows don't care. Especially since your parents hold questionable views."
He regrets the words the moment they leave his lips. Everyone knows that the Greengrass family don't share the anti-Muggle mindset that so many other Slytherin families hold. Astoria has gotten into more fights over it than he can count, and he expects Daphne to react with the same anger.
Instead, she shrugs. Blaise clears his throat, shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. "I just mean… Well, they won't hesitate to punish you as severely as they would a blood traitor. I-"
"You can come with me, then," she says brightly, wrapping her slender fingers around his wrist. "If we get caught, I was sleepwalking, and you were trying to get me back to bed."
Blaise hesitates. Willingly defying the Carrows feels like suicide. His mother has emphasized again and again that his best course of action is to keep his head down and avoid angering the Carrows. Daphne's idea is the epitome of madness.
And yet, he moves closer to the entrance, drawn in by her grin. "You've picked a terrible time to go through your rebellious stage," he mumbles.
Daphne shrugs before leading the way to the corridor. "Timing has never been my strong point."
With a roll of his eyes, Blaise follows her out. "Why tonight?" he asks. "Why in our seventh year?"
She doesn't answer. Her eyes remain fixed ahead of them, and she quickens her pace. Blaise scowls at her retreating figure before hurrying to keep up. Daphne had been chatty only a moment ago; why does she have to be so silent now?
"If I'm risking punishment, you could at least answer my questions," he points out.
Daphne glances at him. "For someone who is so worried about getting caught, you're being quite loud," she comments.
"Fair point."
He follows along, amazed by how she manages to stay in the shadows. For someone who has never snuck out before, Daphne seems strangely adept at it. She moves quietly, and Blaise wonders if she's cast some sort of spell to muffle their footsteps. Not that it matters, really. It seems that the Carrows are patrolling another part of the castle, and the rest of the staff are asleep. They make it to the entrance hall without confrontation.
"Well?" he asks as Daphne pushes open the giant door.
She greets his question with silence. Blaise bites the inside of his cheek. It isn't fair that he's risking so much, and she won't even speak to him now. Still, he follows her outside.
"I've always loved the springtime," Daphne says dreamily, her stride almost rhythmic, as though she's dancing with the gentle breeze that tickles their skin.
"Right. Very, um… Very springy," Blaise laughs. "Very green. Good color. Can we go inside now?"
He watches her curiously. Though he wants to return to the safety of the castle, there's part of him that wants to stay out here with her. Maybe she's right. Maybe there's something about springtime and its sweet blossoms and cheerful explosions of color. Maybe it's just the idea of being close to the girl he's spent years loving from afar.
Without another word, Daphne continues forward. Now, Blaise doesn't hesitate when he pursues her. He's reminded of the old myths of Apollo chasing the nymphs, and he smiles. He's never cared much for mythology, but he can relate to the old god now as he abandons his fears and worries and follows her blindly.
They don't stop until they reach the lake. Daphne stands, bathed in moonlight, and Blaise shivers. She has never looked so glorious.
"We're seventeen," she says, her nimble fingers working quickly to free her hair from the bun. Dark curls cascade over her shoulders. "We're still young."
Blaise snorts. He knows it's true, but it still feels ridiculous. The world has been turned upside down, and youth and innocence have lost their meaning. They're all soldiers in the war, whether they've made their stand or not. The dark tendrils of death and destruction have tainted them all. While he may be seventeen, he feels closer to seventy.
Daphne doesn't seem to notice that her companion has lost himself in thought. She kicks off her shoes, leaving them in the soft, dewy grass. A smile on her lips, she glides a bare foot over the dark water, causing a flurry of ripples. "It isn't fair that we have to grow up so fast." Her voice is quieter now, laced with the faintest hint of pain. "We're still young."
Blaise watches as she steps into the lake, the water lapping at her ankles. She throws her head back and raises her arms towards the sky. He steps closer, trembling as he slips his shoes off and rolls up the legs of his trousers. Daphne's moment in the moonlight seems so intimate that he almost feels like he's intruding by joining her.
The water is chilly against his bare legs. Blaise nearly jumps right back out, but he manages to relax. Daphne turns to him, her pale skin milky in the moonlight. She lifts a hand, trailing her fingers over his cheek, the smallest of smiles playing at her lips.
"We should be able to enjoy our youth." She drops her hand to his shoulder as she moves closer to him.
Her lips meet his— just a soft, gentle graze of skin, but it's enough to change everything. One soft touch, and his worry melts away. Hogwarts is still like a second home; the world hasn't been twisted into something dark and strange.
She pulls away and takes a step back before dropping to the ground. She looks up at him, and her smile in the moonlight is just as sweet as that kiss. Blaise sits next to her, his bare feet still resting in the water.
Daphne rests her head against Blaise's shoulder. "We'll be leaving Hogwarts soon," she says, taking his hand and ghosting her thumb over his knuckles. "We're going to become old and boring, but it doesn't matter."
"It doesn't?"
She lets out a small laugh like a bell's chime. "Nope," she confirms, sliding back and laying in the grass, her eyes focusing on the starry sky above them. "We're young now. We'll be able to look back on this moment and remember the time that we were so… so free."
Blaise nods mutely. He considers reminding her that they're breaking curfew and don't need to stay out too long, but Daphne looks so serene as she gazes up at the inky sky. With a shrug, he lays down beside her, inhaling deeply and smiling at the sweet aroma of the grass, flowers, and dew.
In this moment, he knows what it truly feels like to live.
…
Blaise grumbles as rays of sunlight filter in. He sits up, prepared to pull the curtains closed when he realizes he isn't in his dormitory. He's still outside by the lake; Daphne curls up beside him, still peacefully asleep.
A small laugh bubbles from his throat. So much for being careful. With a smile on his lips, he gently shakes Daphne awake.
"Five more minutes, Pansy," she says, her voice muffled by the grass.
"Daphne?"
His voice seems to do the trick. She bolts upright, blinking sleepily. Blaise doesn't understand how she can still look so beautiful with her hair a tangled mess. "What?" She looks around before chuckling. "Oh. We fell asleep."
"Obviously," he teases, climbing to his feet and offering her his hand.
She accepts it, pulling herself up. "Back to the real world."
Blaise nods. "Back to being old and boring," he agrees.
They start back towards the castle, hand in hand. Blaise supposes he should worry about being seen. Even as he prepares a skilled lie about taking a morning stroll, his anxiety seems to fade.
Daphne is right; it doesn't matter that the world is moving too fast. They had been two wild souls last night, basking in the glory of springtime. Somehow, the world seems like brighter place now. He hopes he never loses this feeling.