Well, we're over half-way through now. I hope you're enjoying the story so far.
Chapter Seven
The next time Harry saw Daphne, she was hiding away in the Wizengamot archives, doing her best to appear as invisible as possible, a hard task given her golden blond hair creating a halo around her as the sun shone down on her. "Have you been hiding in here since last week?" Harry asked her as he sat down opposite her. "I haven't seen you since you regaled me with your excellent Fudge impressions."
"Yeah, I've just been avoiding certain people, hiding out in here seemed to be the best place," she told him as she leant back in her chair.
"Why, or rather should I say who, are you hiding from?" he asked, leaning forward in concern for his friend. "What's happened?"
"Let's just say that the men in my life like to think we still live in the 17th Century and not in the 21st Century," she told him angrily, slamming pieces of parchment down on the desk between them.
"What's happened?" he asked, concern clear on his face.
"You don't want to know," she said with a shake of her head before running her fingers through her hair.
"Yes, I do," he replied emphatically, much to her apparent surprise. "Look, neither of us have to be in a session today, so why don't we get out of here, grab something to eat and you can tell me what's made you want to hide away in the dusty archive room all week," he suggested, making his way around the table to stand beside her holding his hand out for to her to take, which after a brief moment of consideration, she did.
Twenty minutes later they were sat once again in the Skylon restaurant, enjoying a glass of wine when Harry again asked what had happened to make her hide all week.
"My father has been reminding me of my commitments," Daphne told him with a sigh. "He's probably mentioned Cassius more in the last couple of weeks than he has in two years we've been betrothed. It's not as though I could forget I've got to marry the lazy, entitled git at some point," she told him, draining her wine glass, smiling slightly when Harry beat her to the bottle to refill it for her. "Honestly, just because I've postponed the ceremony doesn't mean I'm never going to marry him, I've just been busy with the Wizengamot."
"I didn't realise you'd put off your ceremony? And I'm sure your father appreciates everything you do for him."
"I've put it off twice," she revealed, averting her eyes, not wanting to see Harry's expression at her admission. "And I'm sure he's very grateful that I spend so much of my time making him look competent in front of a bunch of sexist, bigoted men!" she remarked angrily, before muttering a small apology at his shocked look.
"Trust me when I tell you, that we, or at least I, know that you're the brains behind Rowans brilliant arguments and proposals," he told her with a smile. "And forgive me for asking, but if you've postponed the ceremony already, why are you still with him," he asked.
Daphne stared at him as she contemplated her answer. She had known Cassius since she was eleven years old; his late father had been friends with her own since their childhood, the two men solidifying their relationship by joining their families together through marrying their children, regardless of their actual feelings on the matter.
When they'd first started courting, he's been sweet and thoughtful but somewhere along the line he'd become the lazy entitled, misogynist that he was today. Yet every time he did something sweet – like randomly buying her flowers or treating her to a fabulous holiday, she remembered how happy she was when they first started out.
"Because, there are moments that remind me of what things were like when we first started seeing each other," she revealed with a slightly nostalgic smile before it turned somewhat bitter. "Unfortunately, there aren't many options available to women in our society. Not to mention the scandal that would occur."
"What do you mean? Surely it's up to you."
"Nope, my father would have to agree to allow me to end our betrothment. Cassius can end it without anyone's permission, but the money and prestige he'll get is too much for him to give up," she told him with a roll of her eyes, revealing one of the driving forces behind continued betrothment. "It's seen as being rather undesirable to have unwed daughters at a certain age, especially if the second daughter is married. They'd question what was wrong with me over their delicate cups of tea and scones."
"Who cares what people thing?" Harry remarked.
"The people that generally make up the society I was born and raised in, including my parents. Cassius is seen as a good match that could provide for me and our children, that's what they want, what else matters."
"What about what you want?"
"What I want doesn't even get a look in, it's the same with a lot of witches I'm afraid."
"Humour me then," Harry said with a slight roll of his eyes. "Imagine for just a moment that our society is actually part of the 21st Century, what do you want?"
"I want to take my father's seat on the Wizengamot without there being any conditions attached to it," she told him before offering him a sad smile. "I want to marry a man that won't make demands or offer ultimatums; won't go mad and deny me access to my bank vault if I annoy them. That won't restrict who I can be friends with; who won't make decisions on my behalf without consulting me," she told him, revealing all the things he didn't know she wasn't allowed to do. "Being in love with the man I'm going to marry would also be pretty nice to be honest," she added with a grin, giving Harry a subtle look through her lashes, much to his amusement and slight embarrassment.
"Well," he said, clearing his throat quickly, much to Daphne's amusement. "Hopefully you can find the right man for you and that the country is dragged into the modern world," he told her with a warm smile.
"What do you want?" Daphne asked, as another bottle of wine was dropped off at their table.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, without meaning to sound uncouth but you're Harry Potter," she pointed out as she poured them each another glass. "You could be and do anything that you wanted to. Professional Quidditch player, what team isn't going to welcome you with open arms. Auror, you've already vanquished the evilest wizard of our time, everyone else would-be child's play," she said, the two laughing as she regaled them with his exploits and career prospects. "Hell, if you wanted to lay about your mansion all day and be fed peeled grapes by Veela then no one would question you!"
"I've been fed grapes by a Veela, it's over-rated," Harry told her, laughing loudly at her shocked expression. "What?" he asked with a grin, knowing he's piqued her curiosity.
"When exactly have you been fed been fed grapes by a Veela?" she asked quietly, as though they were discussing deep, dark secrets.
"Well, it's either from Fleur when I was laid up in the hospital wing after the Triwizard Tournament in fourth year or it was Gabrielle during a summer fling after I broke up with Ginny," he told her with a grin. "Or it could be both," he added with a smirk as Daphne gasped in shock before bursting into giggles.
"My, my Mr Potter," she said with a throaty voice. "You will surprise a lady. But that does kind of prove my point though. You can do anything – and apparently anyone – so why join the old fuddy-duddies in the Wizengamot?"
Taking a sip of his wine, Harry sat back as he thought over her question. "Well, as you so delicately put it, I am Harry Potter and anything that I do will more than likely use that for their own benefit. Add to the fact that if I were to go into something such as the Auror department, I'm more likely to be promoted because of my name rather than performance. I suppose by joining the Wizengamot I'm taking all of that to in order to do good in the world, using my name and fame for the right advantage."
Nodding along with him as he spoke, Daphne leaned forward slightly once he'd stopped talking, as though she were about to impart some great secret. "So basically, you're a noble Gryffindor with a bit of a save the world complex," she told him with an amused smirk.
"My friends would say it's a massive, saving people complex," he corrected her with a smirk of his own.
"Okay, so that explains why you joined the illustrious Wizengamot, what about your version of Cassius, do you have one of those?"
"No, I don't have – what did you call him, a lazy, entitled git that I'm set to marry," he told her with a grin.
"You know full well what I meant," she told him with a grin. "And don't mention that prick, I've cheered up, I don't need reminding of him now," she said, taking another drink of her wine, now pleasantly buzzed and in a much better mood than she was when they left the ministry.
"Right, sorry," Harry said holding up his hands on contrition. "What exactly do you want to know?" he asked, feeling buzzed himself and strangely forthcoming.
"Well, you've mentioned Ginny and this Gabreille girl, but is there actually anyone that you share the ups and downs of your day with?" she asked, strangely desperate to know if he actually was seeing anyone or had someone special in his life.
"There isn't anyone," Harry informed her, much to her surprise. "Seriously. Friends have tried to set me up but the topic of conversation always ends up at 'Boy-Who-Lived' tales and gossips that reveals them to be more fangirl than girlfriend material," he revealed with a sad smile.
"That must be …lonely," Daphne remarked quietly, her previous buzz slowly fading as sadness for her friend took over, something that was clearly happening to her companion too if his expression was anything to go by.
"A little," Harry admitted. "But it means I've just got to search a little harder for someone I can, I don't know, talk about my godson to; or make fun of the days' events with or to just drink and talk the day away with," he admitted with a smile, his eyes going soft as he looked over at Daphne who was staring back at him, the two of them subconsciously reaching their hands out across the table towards each other.
Before their hands could meet though, Daphne paused and pulled her hand back and broke eye-contact as she nervously played with her hair. "I should probably go," she said quietly before gathering her bag and standing. "I'll see you later Harry," she bid him quietly before practically running from the restaurant, leaving a befuddled Harry behind, wondering if she hadn't pulled back when she did, exactly how far they'd actually go.