NOTE: I suppose I should put a trigger warning here for body image issues.
It turned out that Harry Potter was actually rather mysterious.
Sitting with him during their Thursday brewing sessions had quickly expanded to stealing Weasley's spot during Monday's Potions lectures as well ('Shouldn't we learn about the potion we'll be brewing together?' she'd asked), meaning that Daphne's goal of spending more time with him was actually progressing rather well. She certainly hadn't endeared herself to Weasley with that move, however, and Granger continued to despise her very existence, casting frequent, derisive glances her way. Still, Daphne was learning quite a bit through their work together despite Harry's general apathy towards her.
He wore his emotions on his sleeve with the sort of transparency that was almost frightening in its clarity. The day after they were assigned as partners, for example, when the Prophet brought news of the Azkaban breakout, Harry was a coil of anxiety and rage, the tension obvious even from across the Great Hall. Similarly, in Defence class, every syllable that left Professor Umbridge's mouth garnered a visceral reaction from him.
Daphne was getting very good at reading his emotions from the back of his neck and shoulders.
Harry was also, much to her own chagrin, rather effective at keeping secrets. The 'meetings' that Smith had referenced their first day back from the holidays were never mentioned again, but he and Granger were working on something near-constantly in a deserted corner of the library. Despite her best efforts to sneak up on them to learn more, they always managed to change the subject to something inconspicuous just as she came within earshot. She'd be impressed, were it not so frustrating.
But perhaps the observation that she dwelled on most of all was the one that she was sure no one, bar perhaps Granger and Weasley, seemed to notice. Harry was in almost constant pain.
This was never more apparent to her than when they brewed potions together. He would frequently remove his glasses and rub his forehead, sometimes massaging his temples, other times tracing the infamous scar on his brow. He wasn't getting enough sleep, the dark circles under his eyes easily visible once the thick frames left his face.
What's more, his right hand was affected by some sort of malaise. He took great care to mask it within the sleeve of his robes, and she noticed that he often wore bandages around it when dressed more casually. Some days, the appendage seemed to seize up, as though fine motor skills were beyond his ability.
Ironically, it was one of those instances that had led to what she viewed as the most significant step forward in her plan to capture the heart of the Boy-Who-Lived.
They'd been brewing the Hair-Raising Potion, a variant of which Daphne took every day to add volume to her otherwise limp and straight black hair, incidentally. Harry was dicing the rat tails to add when his right hand seized up and then overcorrected, nearly driving the paring knife into his other hand. She'd been reaching across to adjust the cauldron's heat and managed to grab his right hand before any injury occurred.
"Are you okay?" she'd asked.
"Fine, my hand just- it slipped," he'd answered, both of them looking down to where their hands were still joined.
For just a brief, bare instant they held hands before Harry pulled his from her grasp, blushing and looking to their potion, which was now starting to bubble and smoke.
"I'll take over preparing the ingredients, you lower the heat and stir. Counter-clockwise, a half-dozen turns," she'd instructed, and they went about their classwork as though nothing had happened.
He'd played it off as a casual error, the same way that he'd rub at his head almost absentmindedly, like he was Dumbledore stroking his beard. Just a reflexive action. But Daphne had observed her little sister manage pain for most of her life. Something was wrong.
And what a world it was where she worried for Harry Potter's health and comfort! The very thought brought a grin to her face as she applied some of Madam Primpernelle's beauty potions to her hair, her body still wrapped in a towel after her shower.
"What, do you have a date or something?" A petulant voice asked, off to the side, and Daphne turned to regard Pansy, shoulder-length hair wet from her own shower observing her preparations.
"No, you'd know if I did."
"Maybe I just wanted you to tell me."
"What's that supposed to mean? We're going to the village together, aren't we?" She didn't have time for this. She still needed to slip on one of her new dresses, apply her cosmetics, and hopefully run through her plans with Elysant before heading to Hogsmeade.
"I mean your head's spent more time in the clouds this term than Looney's, for Merlin's sake! We almost never hang out anymore, you moon over Scarhead every week in Potions, and you're even cozying up to the Mudblood!" 'Davis, you little snitch!' She knew that she'd been the one spreading rumours!
"Professor Snape assigned our partners, I'm hardly 'mooning' over anyone. And Granger's tops in every class she's in, why shouldn't I sit next to her in Arithmancy? It's a lot easier to see her answers from there than it is from across the room." Pansy huffed, and Daphne tried again. "Plus, we're getting older, what's wrong with looking nice?"
"Don't feed me that line. You spend more time getting ready in the morning now than you did before the Yule Ball last year!"
Daphne snorted, unscrewing the top to a tin of skin cream and rubbing it in with gentle circles. "Well, yea, but that's because I went with Nott. How hard would you have tried?"
"Ha! So you are trying to impress someone."
"What- no! Can't I just want to look nice?" Pansy knew her too well. "Look, I don't want to fight before we go to Hogsmeade. Is it too much to ask to have a good Valentine's Day?"
That seemed to mollify Pansy, and Daphne was able to apply her cosmetics and finish in the bathroom without further incident. Her roommates had all left for breakfast by the time she returned to their room, so she popped open her trunk and propped Elysant's portrait upright on her bed.
"What are your plans to sabotage his date?"
"I'm not- I don't have any. It would just make me look worse if I tried, especially on Valentine's Day," she replied, explaining for the portrait's benefit, "It's a holiday that celebrates couples and romance."
"I see."
"Besides, things are going pretty well. All I have to do is keep up the pressure, and he'll recognize that I'm the better option to Chang soon enough," Daphne said confidently, wincing as she put on the strapless brassiere she'd got from Madam Malkin's. The band was uncomfortably tight, and the wire dug painfully into the underside of her breasts. Still, it did create the impression of quite a lot of cleavage.
"Have you been following your diet and potions regimen?" Her ancestor asked as Daphne struggled to zip up one of her new dresses. Today was the first time she'd wear one.
"Of course!"
"It doesn't seem like you have. Otherwise, you wouldn't be testing the tensile strength of that garment."
"Do you think I'm not taking this seriously? I've done everything we planned, this stupid dress is- just-, it's too- tight!" she inhaled as strongly as she could, trying to suck in her waist, but still the zipper would not rise.
Elysant's tone was unchanging, though her irritation was obvious from her cutting remarks. "Is this really the level of your dedication? The measurements I gave you were easily attainable. It's been more than a month! Does your sister's well-being carry so little weight as to be overwhelmed by the thought of a second helping of dessert?"
"No!" She hadn't even touched a sweet since the Yule holiday. "I've been trying, I really have-"
"I want to help you, but I can't do it all. Potter can't fall in love with painting, you have to at least try to be alluring!" Daphne covered her face with her hands, giving up on squeezing into the dress. "Don't cry. Daphne, child, look at me - you mustn't cry!"
"You're right, I can find something else to wear before the carriage-"
"No, I meant your tears will smear your cosmetics!"
That was it, she'd had enough. Grabbing the portrait, Daphne replaced it in the trunk and slammed the lid shut, taking a seat on top of it and letting the tears fall. It wasn't her fault. She was trying so hard, and it still wasn't enough! She wept for several minutes, venting her emotion until she was cold and numb.
But what did her pride matter, really? She thought about her sister's last words to her, begging Daphne to be with her before the end. Was she really going to let harsh criticism get in the way of saving Astoria's life? Would the minute satisfaction of ignoring her only ally comfort her while they lowered her sister into her grave, having died alone while Daphne massaged her bruised ego?
She wiped at her eyes, wincing as her fingers came away dark with mascara, then let out a heavy sigh before reopening the trunk.
"I'll need you to help me pick out a new outfit."
"Of course, dear," Elysant's voice was silky, almost smug. "Draw your wand, when I was in school some older girls taught me a variation of the Glacius spell to reduce the swelling around your eyes after a good cry. I'll show you, and then we'll fix your makeup and find you something to wear."
Daphne nodded, listening intently to the portrait's instructions.
Hogsmeade was well and truly prepared for the students' visit. Decorations lined every shop window, and the village had even hung animated cupids from the streetlamps, charmed to fire a stream of pink bubbles at any couple that walked beneath them. Despite the frigid temperature, the atmosphere was warm and festive.
Daphne and her roommates went from shop to shop, restocking their school supplies, browsing books and magazines, and - the others, at least - purchasing their favourite sweets from Honeyduke's. While she kept her eyes peeled for Chang and Potter, but there was no sign of them thus far. Instead, Daphne had fun with her friends, for what felt like the first time this term.
"I'm surprised you don't have plans with Draco."
"Oh, I do," Pansy said, a hint of pride colouring her voice. "He's arranged for a private luncheon at the Three Broomsticks, just for us. A man of his class would never crowd in with the masses at a place as predictable as Madam Puddifoot's."
Daphne hid her grin at that. Pansy had, after all, bragged at the start of this very year when he'd taken her there for their first Hogsmeade visit as a couple.
"That sounds nice," she replied, and meant it. The idea of the boy you like actually liking you back, and making an effort was something she used to have pleasant daydreams about. A much different life than the one she lived, with the constant pressure to be perfect to appeal to someone that had no interest in her, not to mention the price of failure being her little sister's life.
Milicent and Tracey's giggles offered a welcome distraction from her morbid thoughts, and Daphne craned her neck to see what the two taller girls had spotted that was so amusing. Pansy must have figured it out, because she grabbed Daphne's arm, beckoning her to follow with an excited smile. "Come on!"
They crossed the street, slowing their pace to appear casual and she finally caught on to who exactly they were approaching.
She stopped, pulling back on the arm Pansy was still using to lead her forward. "No, let's not do this. It's Valentine's Day, let's just give it a rest."
Pansy's head whipped around to face her, hair swirling tempestuously as her dark eyes flashed with irritation. She opened her mouth to say something, then abruptly turned away and continued with the rest of the Slytherin Fifth Year girls.
Although Harry looked upon their approach with some trepidation, Daphne being familiar enough with his body language by now to see the warning signs, Chang merely watched the younger girls with a raised eyebrow, her fingers linked together with Harry's. They looked to be having a lovely date, she admitted to herself, albeit very grudgingly.
"What's all this then? Potter, and Chang?" Pansy fell naturally into her role as ringleader of the group.
"What of it?" Chang asked, somewhat fearlessly in Daphne's opinion.
"Honestly, your taste is rather lacking, don't you think? At least Diggory was handsome, Potter's a-"
"Cut it out," Daphne interrupted, stepping between Pansy and the couple. "Let's just go, we've got better things to do."
"Like what? Maybe you want to run off and let the Mudblood talk down to you some more?"
Daphne could feel Harry's eyes drilling into the back of her skull, and beads of sweat broke out. She hoped it wouldn't smear her foundation. "Don't call her that."
Pansy's eyes widened for just a moment, then an ugly snarl transformed her pretty face. "So that's how it is, is it? Do you really think he doesn't already know? That Granger doesn't run back to Gryffindor Tower and whisper into his ear all the names you've called her?"
"It- it's not like that, not anymore," Daphne responded. "Please, can we- can we just not do this?"
But Pansy was like a dog with a bone now. "You're telling me," she started, pausing to let loose an ugly laugh, "that you're actually hung up on this homely little half-blood?"
She could hear Chang gasp at the accusation, but refused to turn around to see Harry's reaction. "What does it matter if he's a half-blood? Tracey is, and you've been friends with her since First Year!"
Milicent and Lilith both let out shocked exclamations, and Tracey's jaw dropped. "How could you!" she cried, running down the street in the opposite direction.
"Real nice, Greengrass," Pansy hissed, stepping closer, into Daphne's personal space. "I told you that in confidence, and you throw it in my face for him?"
By now, Daphne's temper had blown well beyond its breaking point. "You told me to keep it a secret because she'd do us favours for hiding her mother's blood status. It was hardly a generous act." Finally saying it out loud, the fact that she and Pansy had been essentially blackmailing their roommate since First Year was deeply shameful.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Pansy asked, her voice dropping. "He'll never want you. Think about what you're throwing away."
The protests immediately rose in her throat, that of course she wouldn't give up Pansy - her best friend - for Potter, that she didn't even like him, not really!
Instead, with great effort, she swallowed them, and with the hurt thickening her own voice, replied, "I'm fine with my choices. I'm not going to be that person any longer," 'For Astoria's sake' she silently added.
"C'mon girls, let's go find Davis," Pansy ordered, her flinty gaze never leaving Daphne's. "Let the blood traitor pine away on her own. Happy Valentine's, Greengrass." And with that, they turned and walked away.
Slowly turning around, Daphne was mortified to see Chang and Harry still standing there, watching. Chang looked scandalized, moving to grasp his arm as Daphne looked at them; Harry, in contrast, was quietly contemplative, with a curious expression aimed at her that she'd not seen before.
"C'mon Harry, let's go," the Ravenclaw demanded, and they, too, walked away from her.
As they left, Daphne belatedly realized that everything that had just happened took place on the main street of Hogsmeade. During a student weekend. On Valentine's Day.
It felt like there were hundreds of people staring at her, surreptitious whispers shielded behind hands, bits and fragments of comments from the other students reaching her ears.
"-remember how she used to look? Must be putting on a show for-"
"-still think she's rather plain, if you ask me, all the gold in the world can't buy-"
"-got to be some trick; a Slytherin crushing on Harry Potter? Poor Cho-"
She ran away, away from the accusations and insults, nearly tripping and falling over the heels that Elysant had insisted would 'draw the eye away from those stubs you call legs'. Surely Pansy and the rest were at the Three Broomsticks, given her impending date with Draco. She frankly didn't trust herself around chocolate right now. And she refused to head back to the castle, unable to handle either the silence of her empty dorm, nor Elysant's cruel barbs.
No, Daphne just needed to get away, to collect herself for a few moments, and then she'd show them that she wasn't intimidated, that it didn't matter what any of them thought. She headed to the Shrieking Shack - after all, even the most haunted building in Britain was preferable to her own classmates, at this point.
It wasn't at all like she expected. Daphne recalled the time, the year before, when she and Pansy had thrown Gretchen Vaisey, a quiet girl a year younger than them into the Shack, holding the door closed while the girl frantically cried to be let out. She thought it must have been truly frightening, but now that she was inside, it looked mostly like a wrecked, deserted house, with broken furnishing and torn wallpaper.
Squatting down and hugging her knees, Daphne ran through everything that had just taken place. Maybe she could pull Pansy aside later, tell her the truth about why she'd changed so drastically over the Yule holiday? No. She had years of experience to know that Pansy wasn't the sort to easily forgive a defiance of the sort she'd just made.
Bitter, aching loneliness filled her as the realization that she'd just publicly spurned all of her friends, in favour of a boy that didn't even like her settled in. Why wasn't anything going right? It felt like she'd taken one step forward, only to be thrown back ten feet. Couldn't she-
"Oooohhh! Woooooo!"
A loud, high-pitched moan sounded from above, and Daphne nearly leapt out of her skin, jumping to her feet and looking around. "Wha- Looney?! What are you doing up there?"
Sure enough, Lovegood was seated on the top of a splintered bookshelf, at least eight feet off the ground, legs dangling freely.
"It's called the Shrieking Shack, but it's rather quiet, don't you think? Seems to me that it should live up to its name, at least for a few seconds."
"Merlin, you just about scared the life out of me! I thought-"
"Don't worry!" the diminutive blonde chirped, climbing down from her perch like a child from a tree. "It's just us and the nargles here, nothing to fear."
"Of course," Daphne said, feeling her heart rate finally start to calm. "Listen, I'm sorry for the whole 'Looney' business. You startled me."
"It's okay."
She waited, but it didn't appear that the odd Ravenclaw was going to say anything else. Frankly, Daphne wasn't sure she wanted to hear anything that would come out of Lovegood's mouth, but she was probably the only person in Hogsmeade that hadn't just seen Daphne's life implode. "Why are you here?"
"The same reason as you, I imagine."
"Wha-, I mean, pardon?"
But Lovegood just gave her that vacant, dreamy smile that she wore so often, humming to herself and attempting to reassemble a chair that was little more than kindling.
'Who comes to Hogsmeade to sit alone in an abandoned building?' Daphne asked herself. Didn't she have any friends?
Did Daphne, though, after what just happened? A sudden surge of admiration towards Lovegood swelled up inside her, an appreciation for how brave she was to continue to act so free, so unburdened despite how terrible it must be to know she had no one that cared, no one that wanted her around.
"Would you, uh, would you like to come with me? We could get a butter beer, or some tea." It was rather cold in here, after all.
"No thank you," Lovegood said, just as cheerfully. "But it's kind of you to ask."
"If it's a problem," Daphne offered, looking over the younger girl's outlandish clothing, a hodge-podge almost certainly purchased at a consignment shop, "I'm more than happy to pay for you."
Her dreamy smile grew fractionally wider, but she shook her head. "I have plans, sorry."
"Okay. Bye, Lovegood."
"Happy Valentine's, Daphne!"
Despite the rejection, some of the confidence she'd gained reflecting on Lovegood's lonely existence remained, and Daphne decided to grasp the erumpent by the horn, stepping carefully in her heels to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. Though she'd assumed she would be making a statement by setting foot inside there after what had happened, in fact her entrance turned out to be entirely unremarkable. The teahouse was filled with couples, all of whom were far too busy with each other to notice her walk in and remove her cloak.
"All alone today, dear?" Madam Puddifoot herself greeted, walking by with a tray full of biscuits and several tea sets floating behind her. "That can't be, not with how lovely you look!"
Daphne glanced down at her outfit, a simple silver and green pinstriped sun-dress that extended just past her knees, and felt her cheeks burn at what must have been condescension from the elderly woman. "I'd hoped to get a cup of tea."
"I'm afraid it may be a bit of a wait for a table, but you're welcome to sit at the counter if you like. The coat-rack is in the back," she said, walking past her to drop off the biscuits and refill various teacups.
Putting her cloak away, Daphne took a seat on a stool at the counter, her eyes quickly locating Harry and Chang, seated further in the back next to a couple snogging in a manner quite inappropriate for a public setting. He looked rather put out - miserable actually - while Chang seemed to be berating him over something or other, a far cry from how blissful the couple had looked prior to Pansy's interruption earlier. Daphne felt a little better, sparing no guilt at seeing the two of them arguing.
So maybe she wasn't perfect. The Ministry wasn't built in a day, after all.
Accepting a cup of tea from the proprietress, Daphne took a sip, luxuriating in the warm liquid, while she continued to spy- err, watch Harry's date collapse into shambles. Surprisingly quickly, given that they couldn't have been here that long, he stood up, pulling his cloak off the back of his seat. He gave a questioning motion towards the exit, and even from across the shop Daphne could understand the rude gesture that Chang made in reply.
He didn't seem all that concerned, which she found a bit surprising. Perhaps he wasn't as into the Ravenclaw as she'd thought, watching him head towards the exit, alone-
'Wait, why am I just sitting here?!' Digging out a few Sickles from the pocket of her dress to leave on the counter, Daphne's eyes jumped from where the door was closing behind Harry to the back of the shop where her cloak hung. Without a second thought, she rushed after him.
Morgana's saggy tits! It was freezing! There he was though, walking quickly ahead of her away from the carriages. She took off in pursuit, calling out his name moments before she turned her ankle in the high heels she wore and collapsed to the frozen cobblestones.
"Gods DAMMIT!" she shouted, pounding the ground with her fists in frustration and pain.
"I've got to say," a familiar voice said from above, "You're rather skilled at causing a scene."
"Hi, Harry," she greeted softly, feeling a blush in spite of how cold her cheeks were. "Happy Valentine's."
"Happy Valentine's, Greengrass. Now, I swear you were wearing a cloak when I saw you earlier," he commented, not appearing at all out of sorts from his date's ending. "Yet here you are, outdoors in February in Scotland, in just that tiny dress."
"Um, I was in a bit of a rush," she muttered, a bit put out that he didn't offer assistance as she stood up. Her ankle was positively throbbing. "I left it in Madam Puddifoot's."
"Big date?"
"No," she answered firmly. "I came after you because I wanted to say sorry. You know, for- for what happened. With Pansy."
He stared at her, and she fidgeted at the neutral expression he wore. 'Why wasn't he saying anything?' "So where are you going?"
"The Three Broomsticks. I'm meeting Hermione."
"I'll walk you there!" she exclaimed, her voice sounding too loud even on the crowded street.
"You should probably go back to the tea shop and warm up. You'll catch your death out here."
Though he didn't smile, and his face was still damnably unflappable, this was the friendliest interaction they'd had yet. She wasn't ready for it to end so soon. "I'll be okay, it's not that far."
A shrug. "Suit yourself."
Unfortunately, the short walk was lengthened considerably by her swollen ankle, her hobble meaning that after the three minutes it would normally take to arrive at Rosmerta's inn had passed, she and Harry were not even halfway there.
"Why are you wearing those shoes? Looks mighty uncomfortable."
"They look nicer than boots."
He glanced down at the black heels. "Bit odd, having you at eye-level."
'So he likes shorter girls' "Okay." She tried to keep her teeth from chattering, rubbing at her arms, feeling her flesh prickle from the icy wind.
"Oh for Merlin's sake! Here," a sweep of cloth, and sudden warmth; he'd removed his cloak and draped it over her.
It felt like her face was on fire after that, and she was sure that her blush was extending down to her chest by now. His scent was all around her, broom polish and something else, something earthy and pleasant and… Harry. "Thank you."
"We'd never get there if you're shivering too much to walk. Come on, I can't be late."
They said nothing else on the walk, but then, he could have left her there on the street at any time, so it was progress of sorts, wasn't it? The door opened to the Three Broomsticks, and a rush of warmth and loud voices greeted them - along with an irate Hermione Granger, tapping her foot with her arms crossed, just inside the entrance.
"It's about time, I thought you weren't going to-" Her jaw clicked shut as she took in which girl Harry had entered with. "Where's Cho?"
"I'll tell you later. Are they already here?"
"No, but we need to head upstairs, they won't be long."
"Right," he said, taking a deep breath, looking nervous now for some reason.
"Harry?"
He jumped, as though he'd forgotten she was next to him, and she held out his cloak for him to take. "Thank you, that was very gentlemanly of you. And I'm sorry again."
"Just leave it on the rack at Madam Puddifoot's, I'll collect it on my way back."
"Alright," she said happily. "Happy Valentine's, Harry."
"Right, you too, Greengrass," he said, clearly antsy to get upstairs for whatever Granger had in store for him.
If her ankle weren't in such pain, she might have jumped for joy. Sure, he hadn't exactly asked her out, and he still wasn't calling her by her name, and maybe he didn't look all that pleased that she'd followed him, but-
Daphne pulled his cloak tighter around her, inhaling his scent once more. It was still a good start.
She limped out the exit, not even noticing Lovegood walk in alongside Rita Skeeter as she left.
A/N: Valentine's is over! This chapter was longer than I'd planned, but I doubt you all will mind too much.
Had a great guest review that noted that it is not a very good thing to have to Daphne think she needs to lose weight/look different to get a boyfriend. I fully agree. Elysant is definitely a total piece of shit, intentionally so.
I suppose I should plug the brand new Haphne discord server. It's much better than the old one, which seemed primarily to exist to mock the pairing. If you google 'Cheer Up Haphne Devotees reddit', you'll find the post with a link to join. I'm on there, along with several other authors.