A/N: So. This is a thing now. Female Potter Twin x Daphne Greengrass. Not sure if this counts as OC/Daphne or just as Fem!Harry/Daphne but it's a thing now either way. Harriet is the "default" name for a female version of Harry so that's what I went with. Suggestions to change the name are appreciated and might be edited later!
I might possibly continue this by adding more backstory to this... AU-thing. But for now, it's a One-Shot and I loved writing it. The second Chapter will likely be Harry(the male twin)/OC. (The OC is Draco Malfoy's little sister, what the hell am I doing?!)
If you don't care for fem!slash, read the second chapter instead!
Daphne had been taught that envy was an ugly thing on a Lady's face. It did not behove someone of her standing, her mother used to say. Envy was to be replaced by pride. Pride was not vulnerable—confidence and grace in place of jealousy and foolishness.
But.
Daphne didn't think that there was anything more beautiful than the green in Potter's eyes when they were so full of envy.
Daphne would say there was no need to be jealous. She was being courteous, Potter knew as much. It was custom to greet the host—Daphne, in this case— of such occasions, with all the flair and etiquette that their parents practised. This may have been a school affair but it was to be treated seriously. And, honestly, the only difference there was to the gatherings her mother organized was the distinct lack of any and all alcohol.
As this was a social gathering, all students with any ties to noble lines had been invited. And, as such, the Potter twins were in attendance as well. And while Daphne couldn't care less for Harry, his elder sister— by mere seconds, she'd been told—was who Daphne focused on. She could feel Harriet's eyes on her from across the hall as Theodore Nott deigned to kiss the air above her signet ring, looking anything but amused. But it was custom, and so he adhered to it, as they all would tonight.
Young Longbottom was next, he trembled so much he almost actually brought his lips to her skin. She barely heard his greeting but smiled and thanked him all the same. The younger Potter was next. Daphne had not spoken to him outside of the few classes they shared but for a brash Gryffindor, he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.
Not as good as his sister's, Daphne mused with a smile.
"I greet thee, heiress Greengrass," he greeted her smoothly, "and thank you for sparing Neville any ill will."
Daphne bowed her head in greeting. "He is but nervous. It will pass in time."
"I should hope so," Potter uttered. "He is a friend of the family after all."
"And a Gryffindor," Daphne remarked with a not quite un-evil smile."
He rolled his eyes at her. "That does not sound like a compliment, coming from your sharp tongue."
"It wasn't," Daphne agreed smoothly. "Do enjoy the evening. The elves have outdone themselves tonight."
He shook his head, bemused. "I shall. Do say hello to my sister, she'd been staring a hole into your back for all of the greetings."
Daphne was very much aware of that but merely inclined her head before adding, "Then mayhap you should attend to young Miss Malfoy. She's been positively glaring at you, Scion Potter."
The furious heat that lit up Potter's face was greatly bemusing. He spun on his heel without a word. Daphne cast her eyes to where Draco and his sister were conversing. The elder sibling, Draco, did not look especially pleased to be here but as much was expected. His father had fallen out of favour with her parents and they had made it clear that the betrothal of Draco and her younger sister Astoria was on hold until the issues were resolved.
His sister, Aranea, caught Potter's hasty retreat from Daphne's side and a quite adorable smile bloomed on her lips.
Daphne shook her head. The girl was so unlike any Malfoy she knew, despite being just as blonde as the rest of them. The girl actually knew how to look happy. Daphne abandoned her position of greeting the male guests and sauntered across the brightly lit hall to the dining tables—small and round with pristine white tablecloth and chairs, not the long tables and benches. She took a seat at the very back next to a window, close to the dais where the teacher's table would usually stand. Instead, the dais was occupied by a chamber orchestra for the night.
She met Potter's eye where she stood by the wall next to the House Point Hourglasses and offered a smile. The green of her eyes was especially vibrant tonight. Daphne tried not to bite her lips when Potter began her approach, eyes not leaving hers.
By the time Harriet reached her table, Daphne had chewed halfway through her cheek.
"Daphne," she greeted, those eyes dissecting her dress like a million knives, "You look wonderful tonight. Especially tonight."
Daphne managed a choked, "Evening," and not much more.
Harriet took her hand, her left, and full-on kissed her knuckles, lips hot against her skin. She caressed Daphne's palm, fingers catching onto each other as she pulled away and Daphne barely kept herself from clasping Harriet's hand instead of letting go.
"Nott of all people had no business touching you," Harriet hissed, her eyes every bit as green as an emerald in the evening sun.
"It was custom," Daphne told her, breathless.
"It was unsightly," Harriet uttered, eyes flashing.
Daphne managed a smile. "Were you jealous?"
"Yes," was the immediate answer. "And I will not have anyone steal you from me tonight." Harriet leaned closer across the table, just shy of rising out of her chair. "You are mine, Daphne, remember that."
Daphne was aware of just how much heavier her breathing had become but she could not spare it a thought. Her hands ached to reach for her, to caress that pale skin of hers—
"And my brother," Harriet went on, "should know better than to touch you." The venom in her voice was real, the jealousy palpable. Harriet was almost pouting and it would have been cute, if not for the stare that pinned Daphne to the chair like a poisonous lance.
"H—He would better." Daphne cursed the fragility that her voice betrayed. "I've only ever had eyes for one Potter."
Daphne imagined that, internally, Harriet was preening, but on the outside, she only ever became more possessive. Daphne's chest grew almost hot at the thought.
"All the same," Harriet dismissed. "We will have words, my brother and I. None of them all too pleasant."
Daphne heaved a heavy breath and tried hard not to look as flustered as she was. "Young Aranea seems quite aware of his affections towards her."
"Don't change the topic, love," Harriet whispered sharply. Daphne's heart fluttered despite herself. "Aranea isn't so foolish to become jealous over such simple interactions between you and him."
"But you are?" Daphne queried, smiling proudly.
"You are mine," she stressed and it drove the heat into Daphne's blood. "And he knows. As I said, we will have words. Not to mention Nott and Zabini."
"Do leave them in one piece," Daphne chuckled, trying to let her blood cool. "Our Head of House would not be pleased to investigate the sudden disappearance of two scions."
"Severus knows better than to cross me or my mother" Harriet huffed and finally—oh gods, finally—leaning back into the chair. It gave Daphne some much-needed breathing room.
"Have you mentioned... us to your father yet?" Daphne decided to ask. Since all the tables were equipped with privacy runes—Harriets Mastery project—there was no need to whisper.
Harriet scoffed. "I don't think he believes I could be gay even if I were to make out with you right in front of him."
The very idea was so perverse and outrageous, Daphne would— Ah, who was she trying to fool, the thought was terribly exciting.
"My mother, on the other hand," Harriet went on, "Seems to have known for quite a while."
Daphne blinked. "She does?"
Harriet nodded, smiling that charming half-smile of hers that forced Daphne's aorta to twist around her windpipe. "Says she should have known earlier but we are eighteen and I'd like to think I didn't do all those things I do to you when I was only twelve."
"That would have been... scandalizing," Daphne huffed, trying not to blush at the thought of all those things Harriet did do to her nowadays.
Harriet shrugged. She then snapped her fingers and a tall glass appeared in between them, filled to the brim and beyond with cream and something chocolaty underneath. She huffed. "That's not Firewhiskey."
Daphne laughed. "Of course not! Professor McGonagall would have my head!"
Harriet glared at her. "Don't act as if she would ever find out."
Daphne raised a single dark eyebrow at her. "Zabini is here." They both knew from experience that he couldn't hold his liquor.
"Right." Harriet scoffed. "Well, I hope this is good then."
She snapped her fingers again and a straw appeared in the glass. It was loopy and pink but most important of all, double-ended. She pushed the glass closer to Daphne.
"You cannot be serious," Daphne deadpanned.
"I am always serious," Harriet countered with a grin, "Most of all when it concerns you and your pretty, pale and rather delicious lips."
Her lips thinned self-consciously and the heat she had managed to stave off came back roaring. Daphne was certain her ears had just caught fire.
Harriet gleefully ignored Daphne's floundering and took a noisy sip from the straw, her tongue darting out to lick her lips as she pulled back. "Mhm, it's not bad," she remarked, smirking. "I wonder what you'll taste like once it has touched your lips."
Daphne hadn't accidentally blown up a glass since she was eight. She refused to do it again at eighteen. So, with her face so red it almost hurt, Daphne took a sip from the straw as well, eyes firmly affixed to the whipped cream. If she looked into Harriet's eyes now, the table would catch fire, she was sure of it.
But then Harriet took to the straw as well and those eyes of vibrant emerald green were unavoidable.
Daphne almost jumped out of her skin when Harriet grasped her hand on the table. This was so scandalous her mother would have a stroke and a heart attack at once. And if her father ever found out, he would probably try and smite Harriet and- Well, no, not Harriet but her father. He would try to smite James Potter.
And despite all that, Daphne twined her finger's with Harriet's and smiled. The softness that overtook those sharp green eyes was mesmerizing and Daphne found herself reminded of all those times they would sneak away in between classes and simply enjoy each other's company in silence. And then, much to her surprise, it was Harriet who averted her eyes, cheeks rosy and mouth curled into an embarrassed smile.
Daphne's heart fluttered like a mad butterfly on pepper up potions.
"Damn those eyes of yours," Harriet muttered, glaring half-heartedly. "Can't we just go and leave?"
"Not if you wish to answer odd questions," Daphne told her breathlessly.
"If you keep talking so huskily," Harriet told her, leaning in, "I'll pull you under the table and eat you. Questions be damned."
Daphne made a noise, appalled, but was secretly more than pleased with the effect she had on Harriet.
Then the music around them began to swell. It was time for the evening's first dance. Daphne saw Theodore approach their table, his face dour but customs were customs. Harriet drew back, and then, also having spotted Nott approaching, frowned. She looked even less pleased than Theodore did and Daphne knew he didn't wish to be here in the first place.
"Heiress Greengrass," Theodore put forth, bowing slightly. "Would you honour me with the first dance?"
Daphne smiled thinly. She did not wish to, but her father's company had entered negotiations with Nott Senior's shipment company. It made for easier supply routes in Scotland and London specifically. There were talks of extending the Greengrass Potion business onto the continent. Daphne and Theodore were just another part of those negotiations. So, for business' sake, Daphne would be cordial with Nott.
Or she would have, had Harriet not interfered.
"Theodore." Harriet slid in between the two of them, her words smooth yet icy. "Why is it that you must always interrupt at the most inopportune moments?"
Nott all but recoiled at the sight of her. "Potter," he spat, "Out whoring again?"
Harriet laughed but it was mirthless and harsh. And yet it made Daphne's spine tingle. She felt almost guilty for that.
"Oh, Nott!" She spoke his name as though it were something especially distasteful on her tongue. "You confuse me for your mother!"
Nott bristled, nostrils flaring dangerously. "My mother-!"
"Quiet, you," Harriet huffed dismissively, flicking a silencing charm at him and the rest of his words became soundless mouthing. "Your mother is no more of a whore than I am. And I'd like to say I've only ever had eyes for one... particular person."
Harriet's hand brushed over Daphne's on the table, just out of Nott's sight.
A snap of Daphne's fingers removed the silencing charm and she moved out of the table's privacy range. "Theodore," she said. She was holding onto Harriet's hand behind their backs and the very fact had her blood simmer pleasantly. "There is no need to make a scene now, is there? The same goes for you, Harriet."
For a moment, Nott looked as though he was about to curse Harriet—something Daphne would not forgive—but he reigned in his temper.
"A dance, Heiress Greengrass?" he asked through gritted teeth.
Daphne smiled and brushed her hand along Harriet's back as she let go of her hand. "It would be my pleasure."
Theo snorted. "Don't act it up any more than we already have to and let's get this over with. One dance and our parents will be satisfied."
"I would hope so," Harriet growled, her hand catching Daphne's dress as she passed. "Otherwise, I'll have to talk to your mother, Nott."
Theo grimaced. "Yeah, yeah." He took Daphne's hand with no more than two fingers. "Bloody Potters," he uttered under his breath. "Scary, the whole lot of them."
Daphne smiled at Harriet as Theodore led her to the dance floor. It was always an amusing evening with her around. And the Green of her eyes couldn't have been any more beautiful as they were now.
A/N: Also, check out the Haphne discord server!discord dot gg/pKSdvJQvhU