Now let's see if I failed.
The Lies that Bind
Chapter Nine: A Twisted Engagement
There was one person whom Harry was still torn about. Daphne Greengrass. His final weeks at Hogwarts had been free of her, because her role in his capture had been exposed to the public, branding her a hated vigilante. Over time, she faded from the public's eye, their bloodlust slacked by the reports of other Death Eater captures, but she had never left Harry's mind.
What to do about her was something he was undecided on. On the one hand, he wanted to give her years of screaming anguish. Chained, beaten, humiliated, and driven insane, as he had been treated. The bitch would deserve every beautiful moment of it. The other hand was more confused. On that side of the problem were his jumbled feelings for her and his memories of their sexual encounters, coupled with his human need not to be alone.
The last part bothered him, for he thought himself above such needs. Above the need to socialize. Above the need for acceptance. Above the need for a mate. He still desired sex, though, but why had he not engaged in the matter with the youngest Weasley? She was more than willing.
At the moment, the person on his thoughts was lounging in the chair across from him, wearing a red sundress that was pulled up to reveal pale, freckled legs. Harry's eyes trailed up the thin limbs, his mind wondering to the field hidden between them. He jerked his head to the left, seeing Mr. Weasley dozing by the fireplace; his day off spent sleeping between meals.
Harry was glad the Weasley patriarch had not seen him eyeing his daughter. He shifted his attention back to the paper before him. He was trying to read it for where more Death Eaters were being watched by the Ministry, but it seemed they had wizened up and quit posting the locations. Ginny was currently listening to a show on the Wizarding Wireless about a couple separated by vast distances, trying desperately to reconnect. The girl's interest in the drama soured his arousal.
He put the paper down and looked to his hands, wondering why he could not commit himself to sleeping with her. Or why the idea of sleeping with a woman was appealing while masturbating but held little interest to him while not? Was he gay? He swiftly cast that possibility aside. Then the answer to his first question came in the way of a memory. Harry recalled asking a similar question when he first met Daphne. The question then had been: why was he so eager to sleep with her when in the past he had been reticent to the idea?
The answer to them both was he wanted something more to the act. To him, then and now, on
some emotional level, he needed there to be more to the act than just lust.
He let his head fall against the backside of the armchair, fighting the urge to start cursing.
I don't need to have feelings for them; I just need to watch them bleed. He pushed his overbearing conscious to the side. It was becoming an irritant during the day, when his thoughts were far from retribution. For a moment, he considered that maybe he was over thinking it, but when he imagined himself feeling something behind the act, as he had with Daphne, sex became a much more enticing idea.
It seems I'm built to love someone before fucking them. His face took on a sick expression as he thought of himself falling in love. I lost so many stupid traits after the torture, why couldn't I have lost this one?
Fed-up with the company, and himself; he left the room, marched up the stairs, and grabbed his broom. He hoped the wind and the stars could ease his unsatisfied mood.
It was the following morning that, after taking the night off, he found resolution with Daphne.
Sitting around the table, as had become their routine that summer, were Ginny, Harry, and Ron, eating in silence. Charlie had returned to the dragon preserve in Romania, while Bill had gone to France to visit with Fluer's relatives, for their pending nuptials in August. Mr. Weasley was again at the Ministry, helping to coordinate and organize the Departments who, after weeks of chaos, were beginning to finally have peace.
Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen, cleaning as was her usual.
Ron's victorious cry broke the monotony. "They caught the bitch!"
"Ronald—"
"No, Mum, look!" He sprang from his chair and met his mother at the door to the dining room. "See!" He pointed to a headline in the Daily Prophet.
"Oh….I see." She gave a smug smile and nodded to herself, before turning a critical eye to her son. "Language."
"Yes, Mum," he mumbled. She walked away, returning to her duties.
Ron spied her once, then rushed over to show Harry and Ginny. "Look." He thrust the paper their way, making sure the print was easily read.
Potter's Betrayer Captured! Read the headline. Harry quickly skimmed the article.
…confessed to dozens of crimes.
…was unrepentant...
"The saddest day for magical Britain is when Lord Voldemort died!"
Harry sat back, contemplating this very carefully. It was only a moment later he realized that his two friends expected a reaction. Still unsure how to handle this, he gave them a neutral one. He looked out the window, pushing the paper away. Ron's excitement abated and Ginny's vindictive mood sobered.
"Well, aren't you glad?" Ron demanded.
Harry gave him a chilled expression. He pushed his plate aside, rose, and left the table. His thoughts were a jumble. Unbidden, their blissful times in Hogwarts assaulted his mind, desperately trying to make his thoughts from then prevalent now. As he ascended the stairs, memories from within the dark room besieged him as well, her kissing confession and the pain she gave him. As he collected his broom and flew out the window it felt like a battle was raging in his head. The old Harry trying one last attempt to become the dominant voice.
"It feels like I have two consciouses." He shook his head, trying to shake the disorientating feeling away, relying on his cold and calculating mind, acquired from Voldemort's memories, to weather the storm.
In a haze he flew with one destination in mind. The source of his sudden uncertainty. Daphne Greengrass.
He donned his cloak and apparated to London. He flew to the phone booth that would take him to the Ministry. In minutes, he had checked in his wand and was striding towards the DMLE. He entered the offices, walking past the secretary. She squawked with indignation, but one look at his forehead stopped any further protest. Harry glanced from door to door, reading the plaques as he went. When he read one that said Dawlish, he scowled but took no action to deface it.
Finally, he stopped at one that read Kingsley Shacklebolt. He entered only to find an empty room. The desk was clean and organized to a point. It was not orderly, but the mess was contained. The chair was of leather and looked worn, while the carpet was green. Harry took a seat and waited, trying to ignore the fight still waging in his mind. It was starting to give him a headache.
It was not long before the Auror returned to his office; Harry assumed someone had seen him enter and sent for the man.
The man's deep baritone greeted Harry. "Hello, Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?"
Harry was quiet, considering his replies. "Kingsley, I'm conflicted." He looked up, his eyes meeting the Auror's.
Kingsley sighed. "This is about Daphne, isn't it?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "I need to talk to her."
The Auror leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "I don't think that's a good idea." The Auror's voice was guarded.
Does he suspect? Kill him, kill him, kill him, kill him! The voice raged and Harry drew a breath, trying to beat back the instinct. "Do you think you could stop me?" The threat in his voice was obvious.
Kingsley's eyes widened. "Don't make me this difficult for me." He licked his lips, vividly remembering Harry's fight with Voldemort.
Harry rubbed his head, the battle subduing somewhat. He collected himself and tried a more diplomatic approach. "Why can't I see her?"
"I don't think it would be a good idea for either of you. Regardless, it's against DMLE policy to let non-officials talk to prisoners." His tone became more reasonable.
Should I force the issue…no. "You may have an innocent woman down there."
Kingsley laughed at the implication. "Not according to her. She's already confessed to murdering two muggle sisters who went missing last summer. Anne and Juliet Hawthorne. Plus, she admitted her part in your…capture." Like everyone else, he was reluctant to mention it.
Harry quickly spoke, the lies leaving his lips with ease. "She was the one who fed me and kept me sane through the long hours of torture. She only became involved in my capture when Bella learned we were dating. They coerced her into doing it by threatening her family. She confessed this to me after my first session with Lestrange. Besides, she's labeled a Death Eater and terrified of the DE-Killer. Thus far, the safest place in England is Azkaban." He paused. A sudden thought revealed itself to him; why she had given herself in.
"You're not saying…"
Harry nodded. "I am. I'm saying she confessed to those crimes just to stay alive. Is Azkaban not the safest place in Britain now, for a Death Eater?"
Kingsley began to pace, wrestling with the implications. It did make sense to a degree, and the girl was awfully young to have committed the crimes. "Maybe." There was another long pause. "It does explain her zealousness." He shook his head. "I thought she'd confessed too easily. You think you can convince her to stop this nonsense, then? That's why you want to talk to her?"
Harry nodded, realizing just how much sway his words held over others. "The one thing she wants is safety. And let's face it, that's something I can give her."
"You think you can handle the Killer?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't think I need to answer that."
A deep laugh was the older man's response. "You're right, you don't. Alright, I'll take you down and clear this up."
As Harry was escorted to the lower dungeons, seven levels below the offices, Kingsley explained a few of the defenses they used. Harry did not bother telling him he already knew them.
"It's hard to believe she could be innocent. She seemed pretty fervent…" That's because Daphne is a wonderful actress, thought Harry. The thought brought bitterness with it. "…but her age always bothered me." Kingsley explained.
They passed a few Aurors posted as guards who gave Kingsley a questioning look, but when they recognized Harry they let their doubts fall away.
As the two of them passed cell doors, Harry checked off who he had killed behind a few of them. They paused at door forty-five. There was no knob and the wooden door was bound with iron and covered in runes. Harry predicted the order Kingsley touched them. Standard Reycion Sequence. The door shimmered like a rainbow before opening a crack. "I'll give you all the time you need, okay? I don't like the idea of sending an innocent girl to Azkaban."
Harry smiled. "Don't worry; I'll have a talk with her." Harry pulled out his wand; Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to discuss a few personal things with her and I'd rather you guys not listen in." He managed to blush convincingly.
Kingsley grinned. "Go ahead."
Harry muttered a few incantations as he stepped through the door, closing it behind him. The spells took effect in the room made of stone with tiled flooring. It was twenty square feet with a sink, toilet, and bed, illuminated by a magic light above. Harry ignored the raven-haired girl on the bed while he sent further spells into the walls and floor.
"What are you—"
Harry looked to her and smiled. Recognition came. She began to scream, trying in vain to get as far away as possible. The wall stopped her efforts.
Kill her! Make her pay! Reap revenge! The images of her studious face, as pain ran rampant through his body, came to the forefront of his mind. The long hours of enjoying each other's company at Hogwarts vied for his attention. That was all fake!
Not to me, it wasn't!
She tortured you!
Do I want to die alone?
There are others!
Who else is there but her? Can I tell Hermione about my dark thoughts? Ginny? Luna?
Daphne stopped screaming as she saw the emotions pass through Harry's face, much too quickly to be normal. It was then she realized this is what she had helped create.
Harry finally mastered himself, bidding both consciouses to silence. He addressed her. "I see you figured it out."
"It wasn't hard, not after what you did to my godmother." Her voice quaked, but anger laced it. She still recalled the body of Bellatrix Lestrange being ravaged by the massive stone golem.
Harry chuckled. "She deserved so much worse, but I didn't have much time." He leaned against the door and examined her. Gone was the make-up, styled nails, and hair. Replaced by dirt and ragged clothing. "Why now?" He asked changing the subject. "Why did you crawl out the hole you'd hidden in?"
She refused to answer, thinking this some twisted game before her death. She may not be far from the mark.
Harry laughed, the answer to his question obvious. "You hid with Draco, didn't you? And when he didn't show back up, you thought I'd gotten him." He grinned, remembering that delicious death. "You were right to think him dead."
She shuddered and he enjoyed her fear immensely. His mood was fouled by his next thought. That is why she is perfect for love! She knows everything about you! There will be no secrets between you! The thought of loving someone else still held little appeal to him. The dark voice spoke. Fine, fall in love, and the moment she turns her back, she'll kill you. Kill her before then! Coat the walls with her blood.
The idea held appeal, and a twisted grin conquered his face. Daphne's voice hitched, unable to look at him. "You're here to kill me." She managed at last. She gave a weary sigh of resignation. Tears crowded her eyes as she fought to keep them back, but the thought of dying was too prevalent. Did she have this coming? Did she deserve to die at his hands? The answer was no, because she held no remorse for what she had done.
Harry raised his wand, but the smile faltered. With a cry of rage, he began pacing the small room, muttering to himself. Daphne, confused, caught only a few words. Kill. Love. Bleed. Die alone. Suddenly, he stopped, a cool mask replacing his changing expressions. Daphne tried not to shudder, knowing then just how unstable he was. "Yes and no."
"W-what?"
"I haven't decided if I'm going to kill you."
She was shocked, and his pacing made sense to her. He was battling with himself. This gave her hope, but she did not know how to capitulate on it. "Why don't you want to kill me?" She feared the answer.
He scowled and looked to be on the verge of losing control again. "I don't want to die alone." He shook his head quickly. "No, that's not it. I want to have sex." His voice had become strained. "That's not it, either!" He groaned and brought a hand to his head. He closed his eyes and swayed, struggling with his inner demons; their voices had risen to thunderous levels.
Daphne stared at his wand for a long moment. She bolted from the bed and tackled him, her hand gripping the focus. They went down in a tumble of limbs, both trying to throw the other off. "Get back!" He snarled. There was a bang and a flash.
Daphne was lifted off him and thrown against the wall. A painful cried was ripped from her mouth as she dropped to the ground, winded and bruised. She looked up to see Harry once more collected and calm, a saddened look on his face.
"That was a mistake." He whispered the incantation to the pain-curse. She screamed.
Her agonized wails again awoke the dark voice of his conscious, the whispers coating his mind. Harry batted them aside, finally able to quiet both consciouses. No longer would his indecision in this matter allow them a foothold on his actions. After a time he canceled the spell and levitated the girl back to the bed. There she whimpered for a moment.
"I've come to a decision." She looked up, fearful eyes gazing at his wand. "You get to live." She sighed with relief, but stiffened when she thought he could still torture her. "Oh, do lose the pity act, I'm not going to hurt you anymore. Unless, you deserve it." She nodded dumbly, trying to collect herself; she was not going to correct him on his assumption. She was not acting terrified, she really was.
"What are you going to do?"
"That depends on you. You see, I'm at a crossroads, that's why I almost lost control. I didn't know what to do to you. Now, I do. But, I'd like your input in the matter."
She sat up on the bed and smoothed her hair, the action settling her fear. "Okay."
He smiled. "I'm going to give you a choice. Neither is great, but what you did to me wasn't, either. Your first choice is to go along with your original plan and be convicted and sent to Azkaban. There you'll spend a few days at the mercy of the dementors before I raid it and kill every single Death Eater in there; that would include you."
Her mouth fell slack at the revelation. "You're going to attack it?"
"Yeah, and I'm going to get away with it. Now, moving on to your second option." He grinned. "I personally like this one the best. I use my considerable clout with the Ministry to get you off innocent, despite your confessions and crimes."
She gave a contemptible laugh. "Just how will you do that?"
"Tell them you only confessed so you could hide in Azkaban because you were afraid of the DE-Killer. Tell them you only helped capture me because you were coerced and that during my captivity you were the one that kept me sane."
She blinked owlishly for a moment. "They'd believe that?" She could not keep the hope from her voice. I could get away free?
"Why wouldn't they? Especially, after I tell them about what we had at Hogwarts. How we began dating and fell in love, and that all you want is to be protected from the DE-Killer. Something the Chosen-One can easily provide."
"But, you're the DE-Killer!"
He chuckled. "Well, yeah, but they're not going to know that."
She sat in silence, staring at the grin on his face. "There's more to this option, isn't there?"
He nodded. "Oh, yes. I'm not going to let you run around free." His face darkened. "Not after what you did to me. There's a price for me letting you live."
She swallowed nervously. "What's the price?"
"Marry me."
"That's it? Marry you?" A small ounce of hope bloomed.
He laughed suddenly and dashed her expectations. "It won't be a traditional marriage. I should correct you on that right now. I'll be the man of the house and you'll be the woman, who does what she's told and goes where she's told. There will be a few stipulations…you won't try to poison me, harm me, or tell anyone my secrets."
She gave him a derisive look. "You want a slave is what you want."
"Not quite, but a guess the term could apply. You do as you're told and you get to live a long and healthy life with a wealthy husband. That's not bad when compared to dying a horrible death in a few days." She shuddered as she recalled the first option. "Remember, you did torture me for a while, and to be honest, this is me taking it easy on you. I could capture you and make you scream in agony for the next sixty years. A part of me kind of wants that anyway."
"What's to stop you from doing that to me as your wife?"
"Nothing but my word. However, I'll add the stipulation that I won't torture, maim, or kill you if that'll make you feel better."
Daphne closed her eyes, not liking the option any better, but smart enough to realize there was not much choice. "Why? Why me? Why go to all this?"
Harry's pleasant demeanor fell away. "You know me, better now than anyone else. For that I should kill you, but somewhere in my skull is the pathetic little boy I used to be, yearning for something deeper in life. A partner." He looked to the floor. "It wants love and romance and a family, all the things I didn't get as a boy." He paused and looked to her. "I don't want any of those, but deep down I do. So, you're the compromise. I get a wife and he shuts the hell up!" He nearly shouted the last, but contained himself at the end. The two consciouses were starting to get to him again.
Resigned, she sighed. "Alright. I agree."
"Great, it's time to put on your happy face! If you want to leave, you're going to have to act relieved and in love with me." His features grew severe. "You did it once, so I imagine you can do it again."
She suppressed her fear rising and offered him a bright smile. "I'm so happy you've come to save me." Her voice lowered. "I was so afraid." As she spoke, it became much easier to slip into the role of a grateful woman.
Harry nodded his head in appreciation. "You sound convincing. Muck it up and you die. I'll not take any chances."
She suppressed the shaking in her hands and stood. She calmly walked over and gave him an endearing hug. She paused and breathlessly, gave him a kiss on the cheek. It was then she realized, she was still terrified. He placed his hand around her waist and swished his wand around the cell, canceling the wards he had placed. He opened the door and pocketed his wand. Daphne managed to drape herself around Harry, clinging to him like her life depended on it. Inside, she shivered, but a relieved smile hung on her face.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was leaning against the wall, as he watched the pair emerge. A doubtful face transformed into one of surprise when he saw the Harry's happy glow. For a moment, he was unsure what to say, until finally, "I take it things went well."
Harry nodded. "Yeah."
Daphne glanced to the floor, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time, sir, but…" she shivered and Harry drew her closer. She looked the Auror in the eye. His features softened when he saw her shimmering eyes. "I was terrified. I didn't know what else to do, where to go," she whispered. "Everyone was against me."
Kingsley slumped his shoulders as he bought the sad tale. "I'm just glad Harry came along and cleared this up." He brought a hand to his head, the two teens clutching each other making any lingering doubts fall away. "The paper work's going to be rough." He paused, thinking. "I'll need to run this by Scrimgeour and the Prophet is going to have to be told." He frowned. "This won't be easily cleared up, Harry."
The younger man nodded, resolute. "I understand. I'll do whatever it takes to clear her name. Just," he held his hand up, "tell the Prophet I'll do one interview but not with Rita. You think I should talk to the Minister?"
Kingsley nodded. "That would help."
"Let's go, then." Harry made a gesture for the Auror to lead the way.
"I'm not sure if he's…"
"I don't care. I saved his country, so he can make time for me and mine."
The Auror smiled, he himself had no great soft spot for politicians. As much as he respected the ex-Auror's abilities, it was obvious he made a better politician. "Just follow me. I would suggest that Miss Greengrass stay here in the cell. It'd look odd if she were to follow you around."
Harry's grip on her tightened when she stiffened. He rubbed her back and she relaxed. She's really good at this. "No. She's had enough of cells. She's not going back in."
The Auror frowned. "Then can you do some wand work on her face? Daphne Greengrass does not need to be walking through the Ministry free, regardless if the boy-who-lived is with her."
Harry saw the Auror was going to be stubborn on this part, but his suggestion was a good one. He removed his wand and stepped back. With a keen eye he cleaned up her appearance, transfigured her robes into something more casual. He touched her face and saw it morph into something a bit less attractive. "Give her red robes." Harry complied with the suggestion. Kingsley offered his own touch by giving her a facsimile badge. Harry glanced to her dark tresses and changed them to blonde.
"Much better." Kingsley said. "Try not to cling to him and follow me. It'll look like you're my assistant."
With the touches done, they were off, taking a more indirect route back to the DMLE, passing different guards on the way back so as not to raise suspicions. "This is risky what we're doing, but I'm sure Scrimgeour will understand." He chuckled. "Besides, I'll just mention I wasn't going to try and stop you."
The meeting did not go well. The Minister blustered about the process of law, at which point Harry drew his wand. "I don't care about your process. I just care what happens to Daphne, and I'm telling you what's not going to happen. Either help me or get out of my way." From there the meeting went more smoothly, with Scrimgeour acquiescing where he could. To sweeten the deal for the Minister, Harry said he would publically lend his support if the Minister ever found himself in need of it.
A few hours later both parties gave amended statements, and from there the charges were dropped. The rumors began to circulate through the Ministry that Daphne was innocent, but no one gave an official statement until Harry and Daphne were well out of the Ministry, flying high above the air under his invisibility cloak. Harry had left the details of the pending interview with the Daily Prophet in Scrimgeour's hands. He disliked the notion, but saw the necessity of 'pleasing the masses,' as the Minister had put it.
There was one other thing to settle before the day was done. He needed to make sure Daphne held up her side of the bargain. For that, he needed a third person for the Unbreakable Vow. No one he knew would consent to help him bind Daphne to the vows he had in mind, but the person in question did not necessarily have to do it with their consent. For that he would need someone with a wand and a weak-mind.
He found Ron, after making a quick trip to the Burrow, conveniently outside flying around a new broom, the Nimbus had been a present from Harry.
"What're we doing here?" Daphne asked from behind him. Both were hidden under his cloak.
"Finding a third person."
It took a moment for realization to dawn. "The Unbreakable Vow," she whispered. He nodded. "He'll agree to help you?" She gestured with her head towards Ron.
Harry smiled. "Not willingly."
Daphne grew quiet as Harry maneuvered his broom close to Ron's, easily keeping pace. "Imperio." There was a moment of confusion as he felt his will placed over his best friend's. Resistance was there, but nothing Harry could not quash.
In flight Ron's body stiffened, and he slowed. Fly out to the woods, where the pond's at. Ron angled away from the house, flying off towards the north, to the very edge of the house wards. Anything beyond that and the neighbors would see them flying. Harry followed with a subdued Daphne. "You're not going to wait till the wedding?"
He laughed derisively. "I'm not taking any chances with you. In a few minutes you'll be bonded to me, but to make everyone else happy we can have a big wedding." He tried to sound enthused.
She sneered at him. "I can't wait."
"You've never wanted to plan your own wedding, even down to the napkins?" He asked mockingly.
She looked down, a hurt expression on her face. "Yes, I have dreamed of it. I just didn't think I'd be a slave instead of a wife."
He snorted. "Get used to it, bitch. You brought it on yourself. But, if you really want you can plan the wedding down to the smallest detail. I frankly don't care one way or another. Only rule is: I'm not wearing pink."
Her expression became guarded for a moment, her understanding of their future relationship growing. "You don't care?"
Harry laughed. "No, it's a wedding."
Daphne shook her head. "No, you don't care if we have one?"
Again, he shook his head, wondering if he had overestimated her intelligence. "No, I don't care."
"Maybe…maybe this won't be so bad after all." There seemed to be some hope in her voice.
Harry's response had to wait as he and Ron landed by the pond. He quickly ordered Ron to stand by the water.
He turned to his fiancé. "You're telling me all it takes is us having a wedding to make you happy?" Was what he said, what he thought was, Are you that stupid?
She glared at him and pulled some of her blond hair behind her ear, Harry had yet to reverse the magic. "No, it won't be so bad because I'll be able to do things."
"Yeah, remember the part where I said slave was not the best way to describe it?"
"Yes, but when faced with death or non-consensual marriage, I'm sorry if I thought the worst of the situation. Don't forget you did mention killing and torturing me a couple times." She blew out a breath to calm herself, she had not forgotten who she was addressing.
Instead of angry, he only laughed. He raised his wand and pointed it at her face. She paled. "Finite."
She almost fainted with relief as she felt the magic melting away from her features, revealing her smooth skin, blue eyes, and raven locks. "Actually…" Harry twirled his wand and she felt something trickle down her hair.
She moved some in front of her face and frowned. "Blonde?"
"Yes, I think you look much better with it. Do you disagree?"
She eyed his wand. "Do I have a choice?"
"In this matter, yes."
She sighed, wary of saying no regardless. "I'll try it. I might even grow to like it." She glanced down to her red robes and compared them to the black ones Harry wore.
As Harry walked by the pond, a dark memory flitted across his mind. Him bound as Daphne practiced a cutting curse across his body. It ended with her accidentally slicing open his neck. He paused, anger worming through his body. He cast her a dark look, causing her to fidget nervously.
I haven't sworn the Unbreakable Vow yet.
I promised not to harm her in the marriage.
She would deserve it. The last thought, heralded from his darker conscious held sway and two cold, green eyes narrowed.
"W-what're you doing?"
"Pay back for what you did to me."
"You promised…"
He waved his wand and silenced her. "I've sworn nothing yet, so a little fun beforehand isn't a problem; for me at least. Remember, you deserve so much worse."
Daphne hesitated a second before bolting, her wand coming out and sending a hex his way. He batted it away and cast levicorpus. Dangling in the air, she struggled, her voice muffled by robes hanging over her head. Carefully, Harry maneuvered her over the pond, then submerged her to her waist. Her pale legs kicked frantically, before falling still. Puzzled, Harry regarded her, it was too soon for her to be out of breath.
He raised her up and saw a bubble-head charm surrounding her head, pushing the sodden fabric out of the way. With a vicious snarl he ripped the wand from her grasp and canceled the charm. Satisfied, he dunked her once more, watching with a smile as she struggled, submerged. Her legs kicked the air with unmolested frenzy, while her arms moved erratically in the water. Their movements slowed with time, until her legs began to droop. Finally, her body lay limp and unmoving.
Deigning she was unconscious, or close to it, he removed her from the water and lay her on the ground. She was out cold. A spell later had her on her knees retching up water, pale and disquieted. Harry circled her like a vulture, an obscene smile plastered to his face.
With a few delicate motions of his focus he had her dried and returned to her former dignity. Then he raised his wand, her body rose into the air mirroring the motion, and he tossed her against a nearby tree.
She cried in pain, and winced when she struck the ground. Harry giggled and repeated the motion, this time sending her skimming across the surface of the pond into a rock on the far side. He made his way there, looking down at her bruised and bleeding features. Frowning at what he saw, he went to repair the damage, for the final treatment he wanted her looking beautiful and unblemished. Hoisting her into the air, he removed her clothing and inspected where the skin had been marred and bones broken. Easily recalling the dark memories and Bellatrix's spells, he healed the damage and once more returned her dignity.
Her clothes reappeared and her dulled eyes came alive with horror.
"That look seems familiar to me," Harry said, tapping the tip of his wand against his lip. "Oh yes, it was the one I wore as you practiced on me." His face darkened. "Do you remember how that session ended?"
She shook her head.
"I do. It went something like this." Carefully, he placed his wand at the side of her neck. Pausing, he spoke. "Remember now?" Pale and shivering her answer had not changed. "Pity." Though, there was none in his voice. He slowly drew his wand across her neck ending at the other side. Where it touched a thin slice was made, and red liquid poured forth. Stepping back, he smiled, reveling in the satisfaction it brought him. It would be a shame if I vowed to never do this again.
There is no one else but her.
The thought was sobered. He recalled the compromise he had made earlier with himself. Glancing to her crying face and slack jaw, he was still unrepentant in his actions. She deserved far worse, but he did not wish to be hampered for the rest of his life by the stupid little boy he had been; that still resided in his mind.
With a sigh, he drew his wand across the wound and healed it. A later flick cleaned the blood from her robes and restored her to her feet. She collapsed instantly, a bundle on the ground weeping and clutching herself. "You promised." She managed between sobs.
"I said unless you deserved it; which you did. Now stand-up, I'm not going to spend the afternoon watching you cry."
She struggled into a sitting position, but the tears refused to stop. Harry heaved a sigh and walked away, settling himself onto a rock by the pond, not too far from Ron, who had watched the proceedings with vacant eyes. Harry consoled himself to waiting, hoping Daphne would not take too long to compose herself. He wondered how much blood she had lost. It could not have been a lot since she only bled for a few seconds.
In time she stood, pale and a little shaky. With reticence she approached him, a question leaving her tongue. "Will you ever do that again?" Her voice shook.
Harry gave her a steady look. "Not after the Vow."
She stood muted a moment, her reluctance to proceed obvious. Harry rolled his eyes and jumped to his feet. "Ready?" She was not, but it did not matter. Harry extended his arm and she entwined her own with his. Together they approached Ron, who was staring at the cloudy noon sky. Ready your wand Ron and hold it out. Open yourself to the spell. Imagine you are an anchor for the following vows.
Ron bid as he was told, raising his wand and concentrating.
"Have you ever done this?" he asked her.
She shook her head.
He withheld a sigh. "It's not hard. All you have to do is take my words and bind them to Ron's wand, who will then bind them to me." She looked befuddled and that time he did sigh. He tried to recall if she had been a fast learner with Bellatrix, but the memories escaped him. Strange since earlier he could recall with ease. He shrugged and pressed on. "Have you ever cast a speak-fast charm on someone?"
She thought for a moment. "Yes."
"Good. Remember how you have to concentrate on their words and not their tongue?"
She nodded. "I remember it confused me since I thought it involved charming the tongue."
"Right. Well, close to that, save just focus on the vow and magically linking it to Ron's wand. Think you can do it? Otherwise, I'll not make my vow to never torture, maim or kill you." He gave her a gruesome smile. "I wouldn't mind repeating what I did earlier, to be perfectly honest."
His smile was incentive enough for her to draw her wand. She drew a breath. "Okay, I'm ready."
Harry held up his hand and they twined their fingers together. A moment later the ritual began.
"I, Harry Potter, hereby vow to never torture, maim, or kill Daphne Greengrass. Do you accept my vow?" She drew a breath.
"I do." A golden string sprouted from Ron's wand and wrapped delicately around their joined fingers.
Harry began to speak, and Daphne repeated after him. "I, Daphne Greengrass, hereby vow to never raise a hand against Harry Potter. To never poison, harm, or kill him. To do my best to protect him where I can. I hereby vow to do as he bids, be obedient to his will, and to never let any of his secrets pass from me to another." She blinked back tears. "Do you accept my vows?"
Harry remembered those blues eyes from another place and what felt like another time. Then they were filled with lies and deception, but here before him they held nothing but the naked truth. "I do."
Her shoulders slumped as a red string of energy sprouted from Ron's wand and wrapped gently around their hands. Harry sent one last thought to Ron. Release the vows to the opposite person.
Ron obeyed. The golden strand broke free and disappeared into Daphne's chest as the red one did to Harry's. For a moment both were dizzy from the effects, but the feeling passed.
Harry turned to his best mate and sent him on his way, canceling the Imperio and adding a memory charm to keep his silence. He turned to Daphne. "How about a kiss?"
"No, but do I have a choice?" There was a dark humor in her voice.
Harry looked to the heavens, feigning thought. "No, you don't." He stepped forward and entered her embrace. Their lips met, his greedy, hers hesitant. They broke apart and Harry decided they would spend the afternoon by the pond, himself defining her role in their relationship. Neither pleased nor relieved, Daphne listened and prepared herself for the rest of her life.
And so it was on a beautiful, sunny day, that Harry Potter, clad in shadow and capped with darkness, and Daphne Greengrass, swathed in blood and crowned in gold, joined as one.
a/n:: To me, this is one of the cornerstones of the fic, and what the romance tag was based on. Very non-traditional if I do say so myself. I'm personally pretty proud of it, grammar that I know I missed notwithstanding. However, I'm personally biased. I'm asking any reviews to let me know if this passed muster. Did I manage to pull this off convincingly, or can everybody see the stitching that holds it together? Kind of nervous to the response, and I feel this can make or break the fic for many.
Tell me your thoughts if you wish. Thx again for reading.
-byl, ouy.
