He decided not to report Davis.
Hermione would hound him for it - if she ever found out to the extent it had gotten to, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Then it would have felt like she would have won. He hated admitting it and being of, what he considered such a basic, low-level mindset, but it just didn't feel right letting a girl bully him this way. By reporting it, he was accepting it, he was letting her know she'd succeeded in getting through to him and he absolutely wasn't going to give her that satisfaction.
They were never going to see each other again anyway, so that was the end of it. And if she dared thinking about approaching him in the corridor or in lesson in the future then she'd be on the receiving end of one of the Prince's finest. He would let it all go on the simple condition that it never happened again, that was all there was to it. Lingering on that decision made him feel like a coward, but he pushed those discrepancies to the back of his head the second they occurred. His life was too busy as was to start getting concerned about yet another problem.
As he and Ron left for the Quidditch early the next day, he barely had time to apologize to Hermione for snapping last night. Although he was reeling from an emotional come-down, he could at least accept none of his anger had been justified being directed at her. He did his best but was not entirely sure that she had heard him though, as Ron and Lavender had been saying a thoroughly nonverbal goodbye just behind him at the time. She looked too fierce to bring up their argument at that moment, so he bravely decided to drop the subject.
Quidditch training ran by as normal - their version of 'normal' being a slightly lack-luster performance with many missed goals, but for once he wasn't too overly concerned. It was nice to get out into the grounds, for the cold helped purge any lingering nasty thoughts from his head. When he was seventy feet in the air clinging to a wooden stick while a snowstorm was being blown directly into his eyeballs, it was really quite difficult to think about women. Eventually, the weather actually became so much of a problem that he decided to throw in the towel early. Although it was true the new cadets could do with learning how to play in bad weather, it was also a Sunday morning and everyone was either hungover or still asleep. Still, the only bad practice was the one that never happened, he reminded himself.
The spitting wind was becoming so fierce, in the end, they decided to remain in their Quidditch uniforms during the trek back up into the castle. If they were this cold in padded leather armor, he'd dread to imagine trudging through shin-length snow in his usual cloak and pants.
"Alright everybody!" he announced as they entered the entrance hall.
A sea of unresponsive faces stared at him.
"Doing good! Doing well! The fact we were able to get anything done in this weather bodes well for us, I haven't seen any of the other houses out in this! I'll put a pin-up on the notice board whenever next practice is scheduled."
There was a murmuring of responses - some swearing, which he pretended not to hear - and everyone departed in their own ways. He slung his Firebolt over his shoulder and turned to Ron.
"Right then... changed, then dinner?"
But he was too late. In the few seconds he had turned to address the rest of the team, Lavender Brown had snaked her way in and her face was currently pressed tightly against Rons, probably kissing, but could have been anything, knowing them. He stared plainly at them for a moment before diverting his eyes.
"Right, then! Okay, see you later, Ron! Bye, Lavender."
He trudged away from them miserably. If either of them referenced his leaving, he didn't look back to check.
He departed for the Gryffindor common room alone, comforting himself that there was only approximately a week left of lessons to struggle through, after which Christmas break would begin. It now seemed impossible for Ron and Hermione to make up before the holidays began, but perhaps the break would give them some time to calm down and think better of their behavior. It was a shame... he had truly been looking forward to the three of them reunited on Christmas Day without the stress and worry of NEWTS baring down over them, but it simply did not see a realistic prospect anymore.
Not to mention, the way his plans were currently set, he would be spending the Christmas holidays home alone at Grimmauld Place, which was not a prospect he looked forward to for a... number of different reasons. If he could at least get one day where he could see everybody, it'd mean the world to him.
"HARRY! HARRY!"
He saw her instantly - the small head of blonde rushing toward him through the crowded corridor - and he turned instantly the other way.
No matter what Davis's behavior was like last night - whether he was justified feeling intimidated by her or if he was just being a pussy - it was irrelevant. He should never have been subject to it in the first place. And the only reason he had been was because he'd tried doing something nice for an innocent-seeming stranger.
After reflecting on it, he'd found himself blaming Daphne just as much for last night's disaster as he did Davis. He'd only just found the strength to move past it and he had no desire to be catapulted right back into her mind games.
"Harry, please! Wait! Harry!"
She was by his side now. She was having to jog to keep up with him, but he wouldn't give her the gratification of looking at her. If he did, he honestly didn't know what he'd do, he couldn't say all of the pent-up aggression toward Davis wouldn't suddenly unleash itself at her.
"Harry, please, l-let me explain! Please!"
She was making no effort to be quiet, which was unusual for her. It also succeeded in dragging the curious gazes of a few on-lookers in the crowd.
"What could you possibly have to say to me?" he hissed through closed teeth.
He glimpsed her very briefly, but it was enough to make him halt his tracks completely. All his anger slipped away, replaced by something different - innocent, but just as passionate.
Her nose was broken. That much was obvious - a bandage covering the bridge of her nose and a trail of dried blood beneath her nostrils - but the second occurrence was a lot slower. He only realized now, she hadn't been jogging to keep up with him, she was severely limping, favoring one foot entirely over the other.
"Harry!" she stuttered. "I r-really d-d-didn't m-m-mean to … I d-d-d-didn't know Tracey was - I asked her I-I-I-I am sssso s-s-sorry!"
He'd seen his fair share of injuries, be it magical, Quidditch-based, or physical, and he knew the aftermath of a fight when he had seen one.
"... what happened to you?" he asked, breathlessly.
Her round face seemed to sink in upon itself. Whatever nerve she seemed to have built up vanished in an instant.
"I… I…" she said quietly.
Her voice had changed completely, it was not urgent anymore, but shaky, shocked. Terrified.
A pause of tension hung in the air for a minute as they both stared at one another. It was at this point he also noticed circles under her tear-stained eyes. Though they weren't that dark, they definitely hadn't been there the last time he'd seen her.
Finally, she broke their contact as she looked away. She fumbled a foot across the stone floor, drawing a circle with the tip of her pumps.
Due to the ruckus she'd caused trying to get his attention, a few passersby had started watching them. Now though, people were actually beginning to stop in the corridor and whisper. He realized all at once how bad this must all look from an outside perspective, it probably looked like he'd just done this to her. He looked past the gathering crowd to examine the corridor around them and squeezed tightly on within inside him.
"Fine. Come on, let's talk."
He brought his hand to the space behind her back - not wanting to touch her of fear of harming her. She understood and obeyed, following his gesture and moving with him across the corridor to a Charms classroom. Mercifully, it was unlocked and empty. He ushered them inside.
He closed the door and slowly turned to face her, gathering his thoughts.
"What the hell happened to you?"
"I DIDN'T, I PROMISE - !"
Her sudden increase in volume caused him to look over in shock. She was leaning forward, trying to hide the fact she was crying by covering her eyes with a hand - but of course, this combined with the sound of subdued sobbing made it even more obvious what was happening.
Being in public seemed to have been the one thing holding her together, as she finally broke down, collapsing miserably into one of the desk seats. He didn't know what to do. He was very torn between comforting her and wanted to remove himself from this situation completely, but his heart simply wouldn't let him.
"Look, just… calm down. Breath."
Surprisingly, that didn't work.
Hesitant, hovered a hand over her back. He couldn't think of anything else to say or do. How do you comfort someone who you barely know? For a moment he delayed, but eventually placed his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to reassure her. He didn't expect her to flinch rather noticeably at it, though.
"Ah, sorry. I didn't mean to—"
She quickly shook her head, in a manner more violent than usual.
"... Daphne… breath… tell me what happened…"
"I-I didn't mean to... s-stand you u-up," she said between strained sobs, "I wanted to c-come I really r-really did… but… b-but then… I - I - I got nervous a-and I…d-didn't mean to..."
She wasn't holding back now, crying out sobs with unrestrained volume. His eyes shot to the door, wishing he'd been able to find them somewhere more private.
"Sh, sh, sh! I don't care about that!" He put more pressure on her back. "Look - what happened to you, are you okay? Who did this?"
"I D-D-DIDN'T MEAN TO!" she wailed.
For a second, he genuinely debated putting his hand over her mouth. It was the last thing he wanted - already being uncomfortable touching her - but he was starting to grow concerned they were going to attract attention. He wouldn't know what to say if a teacher caught them in this position.
Just as that thought occurred to him, however, he suddenly remembered his, Ron's, and Hermione's private conversation the other week.
Using his free hand, he pointed his wand at the classroom door.
"Muffliato!"
That should have them sorted for a bit.
...
But to do what?
He had no desire to be here with her and the only factor causing him to stay, she was being stubborn on.
He looked hard at her. It was obvious something serious had happened and the fact she was avoiding his questions told even more. All she was concerned about was the Christmas party which frankly, he really didn't give too much of a damn about right now. He may have only known her for a short amount of time, but seeing such an innocent and timid girl with injuries like that churned his stomach in horrible ways.
Asking her about it was no use, so he'd have to try something else. He brought his hand away from her back and brought his knees down to her level.
"Do you need me to get someone?"
She shook her head. Between her loud sobs, he was surprised she'd even heard him.
"I'm... sorry... I'm... sorry..."
"Stop saying sorry! You don't owe me anything, it wasn't your fault that..."
A small pit of frustration and anger welded up in his chest.
Oh no.
A hatred flared within him that was so strong, it didn't even register as an emotion. It registered as pain. A furious pain, starting in the pit of his stomach and rippling out at thunderous speed.
He opened his mouth, but a stranger spoke from it.
"... this was Davis, wasn't it?" he whispered.
She strayed from behind the safety of her hands. For a second, she looked confused.
"... w-w-what was?"
He simmered his temper enough to speak again.
"She did this to you, didn't she?"
He expected some kind of emotional reaction at that. Instead, she simply swallowed.
"... no."
She didn't sound very sure about that, and must have caught onto this too, as she quickly leaped to her own defense.
"No! No!" she repeated. "She d-didn't, it was n-nothing like t-that!"
He squeezed the rim of the table until his knuckles turned white.
"Then what? What happened?" he spat.
For a second, she faltered. Her eyes shot to the door and her next words escaped seemingly by accident.
"... she... didn't mean to…" she said impossibly quiet.
With an increasing anger washing over him, adrenaline pumped through him as he stood up, eyes suddenly wide with anger.
"Oh, I'll kill her - I'll absolutely kill her!"
"Harry, p-p-p-please!"
He threw his arms out extravagantly, causing her to jump again.
"So, it's true then!? The two of you are what…? Seeing each other? That's what she said to me!"
He watched various emotions cross her face as she tried to process everything that was happening.
"In… a way… b-but, it's not…" she whimpered desperately," ... we have a recurring thing, y-yes…."
"... so what? She found out we were going to the party together and did this to you!?"
"No! Harry, please, no!"
His leg was shaking, jittering up and down uncomfortably. It was his turned to shout.
"YOU KNOW SHE SPENT THE WHOLE NIGHT TRYING TO FUCK ME, RIGHT? WHAT, WAS THAT SOME KIND OF SICK REVENGE PLAY AGAINST YOU? SHE THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO CHEAT SO MADE SURE SHE DID IT FIRST, THAT IT?!"
Other than continuing to sob, she gave no audible reaction. He tried to gauge her feelings, but with her face such a mess, she just seemed a mixture of everything. It was impossible to tell what was correct with a conversation so one-sided, but he was positive he was right.
The words she'd said to him when he initially asked her came to mind - she said she couldn't - he thought it odd at the time, but it made sense now.
Hot silence hung in the air. He tried to keep looking at her, but he couldn't. He felt low and though he wanted to apologize... he didn't even know what for. For his minute part in this? For not realizing her situation? He didn't know what he could possibly say to improve anything, especially if she was adamantly denying him, but the sound of her crying broke his heart... He felt responsible for this, though his contribution may have been minimal and unbeknownst to him, but he couldn't help the burning sensation in his chest right now.
Forcing the anger back down his throat, he tried again, quieter.
"Has this happened before? Has she…" he couldn't say it, so gestured uselessly at her face,"... done this… before?"
She whispered something to her feet. He wasn't able to catch it, but as he tried to ask, she let out a long, horrific gasp.
"P-Please… this isn't... what you think it is, Harry! I k-know you're trying to help, b-but please…"
The squeak in her voice broke his heart.
"Has she hurt you like this before?" he tried again, more forcefully.
She couldn't answer anymore. She'd run herself dry but was carrying on regardless, crying without tears. Her face moved in strange, almost grotesque ways as she breathed. He'd never seen someone completely break down like this before, he didn't know what to do. He had no idea what to say or do. What the hell was going on with her?
But in not answering, she gave him his answer. His fingers tightened around the desk.
"You need to report this to a teacher."
She shuddered violently, looking at him with desperate eyes. She mumbled to herself again. It was getting increasingly disturbing.
"You're m-making it so m-much worse…"
He glared hard at her. She was becoming uncontrollable. Blood and snot were pooling out of her nose and her words were barely strung together anymore. This was becoming too much. He wasn't equipped to deal with this. He wanted to help - anyone would want to help - but this was useless and torture for her.
"I'm calling Madam Pomfrey."
"No! NO!" she shrieked.
She flung herself at him.
"PLEASE DON'T! PLEASE, HARRY!"
He hesitated a hand to support her, but pulled it back. She was too weak to support herself and fell into a sobbing wreck at his feet.
"Jesus! I'm getting Madam Pomfrey for you, you're going to hurt yourself! Stay there!"
A poor choice of wording, as he doubted there was much of any she could do in her state. She shouted something else at him in protest, but he paid her no mind as he crossed to the door. He opened it out into the corridor, stuck his head through and shouted to the closest passerby for assistance.
Within a few tense minutes, Madam Pomfrey and an assistant had arrived and bustled themselves inside the empty classroom. He watched by the door, not quite sure if he was supposed to stay or not.
Madam Pomfrey brought herself down to Daphne, who was still sobbing on the floor.
"Hello, Daphne. Can I do anything for you?"
Her voice was hushed and gentle, but she didn't respond. She gently rested a hand on her shoulder, which made her start shaking. Eventually, he decided to look away, for it was all he could do. This had all simply gotten too disturbing to watch.
He hit a dilemma on if to stay or not, he definitely didn't feel it was his place to, but he also would have felt irredeemably guilty if he did not. Eventually, his resolve was found in the assistant Healer exiting and approaching him.
"Hello, Mister Potter... Thank you for calling us, I imagine it must have been troubling for you to have seen all this... Unfortunately, this isn't the first panic attack Miss Greengrass has had."
He'd be lying if he said it wasn't. He looked back and forth between the assistant - a cute, white-haired witch - and the crumpled form of Daphne, a sudden realization dawning on him.
"That was a panic attack... ?"
She nodded solemnly.
He'd never seen one in person before. He'd heard about them of course, everyone heard about panic attacks, but this was his first time experiencing one first-hand... couldn't say he was much of a fan.
He shook his head suddenly. More important matters were at hand.
"Listen - she's only like this because she was beaten up. By Tracey Davis. I think the two are in an abusive relationship."
The assistant watched him for a moment and then nodded, but her face was clouded.
"Well... that's complicated."
He glared at her. Did she not believe him? Could she not see the state of the girl opposite them?
"It was Davis! I know it was!"
Again, the assistant just looked troubled.
"I assume you've heard about patient confidentiality? This is a bit of a minefield... To put it pretty bluntly; if you believe what you say to be true, you have to take it up with your Head of House or Professor Dumbledore. You're not going to get far telling the Hospital Wing."
He wanted to protest but thought better of it. He wanted to fight what she was saying, but when he stopped to think it through rationally, she made perfect sense.
"I... understand."
"I wish I could do offer you more, but I don't think what Greengrass needs immediately right now is to be questioned about something like that. I think you've done well in bringing her here. You dealt with the situation well, too. I'd give you a lolly or a sticker or something, but you might be a little too old for either..."
She gave a cocky grin, obviously trying her best to lighten the atmosphere. He wasn't really in a laughing mood, but she did manage to get a smile out of him.
Really, he had been the absolute opposite of helpful in this situation. He'd instigated it, he'd pushed her, he'd caused all of this. He hadn't known... if only he'd have known, he'd have been more fragile with her. He should have listened to Hermione, because now he found himself believing her earlier theory.
"Out of the way, Potter! Out of the way! Chiara, give me a hand!"
He and the assistant - Chiara, apparently - leaped out of the way as Madam Pomfrey reemerged from the classroom, a comatose Daphne under her shoulder. Chiara lowered herself to Daphne's other side and lifted.
The two of them began to walk forward, slowly so as not to inadvertently hurt her. As much as they tried to make it look normal, it was one of the busier corridors in the castle, and many gazes came in their direction. This was when Harry finally felt relevant. He decided to walk ahead of them, averting people out of the way and essentially functioning to clear the path for them. Eventually, thankfully, they reached the door to the hospital wing and went through.
They brought her down to the closest best as Madam Pomfrey closed the curtains around them.
Chiara rubbed her shoulders tentatively, but there was no response. Eventually, a sign of life did come in the form of her shaking her head a little after Chiara tried again. Her hand again came to rest on her shoulder as she awakened, her face lifting to three very worried people looking at her.
She looked at them silently. He was initially worried she might freak out again or do something equally extreme, but those fears prove unwarranted as her expression slowly changed from an almost lifeless blank to a more normal withdrawn shyness. She wordlessly lowered her head, her eyes evasively moving to the side. She looked embarrassed, almost ashamed. He wanted to say something, anything, to help, but he couldn't, though. He don't really know what just happened, just that he had a part in it. He felt helpless and ashamed of himself for inadvertently causing this.
Chiara sighed before looking at him.
"Thank you for your assistance, Mister Potter."
"Yeah... do you mind if I stay here, with her?"
Madam Pomfrey cut in.
"Nope! Nope! Definitely not! The thought is appreciated, but it's best to let her rest for now. She'll be let back in her common room this evening, you can visit her then."
Annoyingly, he agreed. It felt like all he could do was humbly agree. Leaving her didn't feel as bad when it wasn't his decision to make.
The walk back to the common room was a long one, his mind feeling heavy under the weight of so many things happening so suddenly. He was positively sweating under his Quidditch uniform, he desperately needed to change. When he entered, thankfully, the rest of his house doesn't pay him much heed. There are a couple of questioning glances, but overall not many people seem to be very aware of what happened in the corridor downstairs.
Even as he stripped off to shower, he was thinking about Daphne. His stomach felt like it was turning into knots while he thought about how to deal with what he learned.
He didn't calm down for the entire evening. The thought of her - petite and fragile Daphne - being man handled by that brute of a woman… it angered him in a special kind of way. She may be content to not seek any help, but he certainly wasn't. He didn't know if she was being bullied, manipulating into staying, or whatever she had on her, but he didn't have such weakness. It wasn't his business, no, for he had no stakes in Daphne as a person, but he was going to help her.
