Chapter Two: The Lion and the Snake

Daphne was used to changing with multiple girls in the same room, but that could not prepare her for getting ready for the Yule Ball. She wanted a nice private room, where she didn't have to listen to Pansy fantasising about what she and Malfoy could get up to if she managed to get him into a broom closet, or the snide remarks about why she was even bothering to get ready.

Whenever they said something, she would just smirk and look away which, naturally, only infuriated them more. They had been in there for hours, each taking turns in the bathroom and critically examining themselves in the mirror. Tracey had helped Daphne to tie her hair into an elegant bun, with a few strands of hair falling down either side of her face. She had to admit it looked nice, even if she was desperately trying to get her make-up to resemble anything close to 'good'.

"You look amazing," Tracey assured her from her spot on her four-poster. She'd been ready for almost half an hour but refused to leave until Daphne was ready. As ever, Tracey was the picture of natural beauty, her dark blue dress clinging in all the right places. Blaise was a lucky boy, but Daphne suspected that was the point.

"It'll do," Daphne sighed, snatching up the purse she had enchanted from her bedside table and stuffing her wand inside. Boys would just stick it in their inside pockets, but Daphne's dress allowed her no such ease. She'd ordered it only a few days ago and it had arrived just in time. Emerald green, to match Harry's dress robes, and it did a good job at giving the idea there was something to show off. At least, she hoped it did. This is stupid.

She hated this, no she loathed it. It wasn't so much the dance, she liked dancing - a fact she had taught Harry after arranging to meet him in an empty classroom when Tracey pointed out he'd been raised by muggles and they didn't really do that sort of thing. For Daphne, growing up had been fancy functions and entertaining parties. For Harry, well, if his dancing was anything to go by he'd never been in a ballroom in his life.

The all too familiar signs of nerves seized her. She'd been a wreck ever since she'd been stupid enough to ask Harry. How would they actually open the ball? Would they have enough to talk about? Would he even like her? She knew he'd only said yes because he had no-one else, which was really inspiring. Just be yourself, that's what Tracey had said. But what if she wasn't what he wanted? Then they'd be in real trouble.

"I don't know why you're fussing anyway, Greengrass. Not like anyone's going to be interested in you."

"At least I don't have to rely on my family's money to get a date," Daphne shot back, sick of listening to Pansy's goading. "Or do you really think Malfoy's actually interested in you?"

Tracey sniggered. "Something funny, Davis?"

"Don't waste your time on these people, Pans." Millie said, pulling at her best friend's arm and regarding Tracey with the disgust most people reserved for Mrs Norris.

Yeah, Pans. Merlin's beard, it was like they wanted her to tear them apart. For once Daphne stayed silent, they were running behind enough as it was. So instead of a fight, Pansy settled for what she probably thought was an authoritative scowl, before bustling off, Millie trailing behind her.

"I can't wait to see their faces when you walk in with Potter," Tracey grinned with devilish excitement.

"They're going to hate me."

"They hate you already," Tracey said as if it were nothing to be concerned about. "But they're probably not wrong, we should get going."

Daphne couldn't help but agree. Her grandmother's watch, held on her wrist by an intricate silver brand that swirled around itself like the tail of a snake, told her that they only had ten minutes to get up to the Entrance Hall. Where Harry would be. It was one thing asking him, it was one thing going for secret dances with him, but it was quite another to appear in front of the whole school together.

She tried assessing her reflection one final time. Hair? Check. Make-up? Would do. Dress? It was the best she was going to get. Heels? Matched the silver of her bag and watch. Potter? Well, she supposed she ought to call him Harry. But he was an enigma to her, as he was to pretty much everyone in the school. Where people said he was loud and arrogant, he'd been shy and reserved. He wasn't the attention-seeking prat Malfoy made him out to be, but nor was he the hero she'd been raised to believe in. He was just a boy and that made him far more interesting and, somehow, terrifying.

"Okay, let's go." They were joined by Blaise in the Common Room, who complained loudly about how long they'd taken, but only in good fun before he took Tracey's hand and kissed it. They made a good couple. If that's what they were. Tracey still wasn't sure, but Astoria had it on good authority that he'd turned down Susan Bones' advances.

"I take it you managed to find yourself a date, Greengrass?" Blaise asked in his usual mischievous drawl. "Or did you go to all this effort simply to impress the castle at large?"

"Direct as ever, Zabini," despite knowing Blaise for almost four years, they refused to call each other by their first names, Blaise out of what he jokingly referred to as respect for her family, and Daphne because she knew it annoyed him. "But yes, I have. I think you might like him."

"Or hate him and want to jinx him on sight," Tracey teased from Blaise's arm, her smile bright enough to light the gloom of the dungeons if it could.

"Interesting, you're not sleeping with the enemy are you Greengrass? Got yourself a little Gryffindor to play with," her silence was enough to make his smirk twist into something far more delighted. "So you have. It won't be Weasley, you're many things my dear but you have taste."

"You're never going to get it," said Tracey.

"That just makes it a more interesting challenge," his dark eyes narrowed, his tongue running along his teeth before he pursed his lips. "Well, you'd never date younger. So that rules our third-years. Finnegan's an idiot, so that's a no. Potter's, well, Potter so that's a no there then. Longbottom's off with the Weasley girl. Thomas? No, too muggle. What would you talk about?"

"I can talk to muggle-borns." Daphne scoffed, remembering all too well the last time Tracey had tried to explain muggle hobbies to her.

"And I can fly a dragon," Blaise mocked, "maybe one of the fifth-years, McLaggen? Mother always said his family were imbeciles, but Scarlett Draper quite liked him from what I heard."

"You're as bad as Tori."

"Most rumours have some basis in truth," Blaise shrugged, "is it McLaggen?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Daphne smirked, hoping it would misdirect him from the boy he'd simply dismissed out of hand only seconds before. She was saved from further questioning as they entered the Entrance Hall. It was abuzz with couples going this way and that. The majority of people were heading straight into the Great Hall, although to the left of the large doorway stood some of the champions. Diggory and Chang. Fleur and some fluffy-haired Ravenclaw that couldn't take his eyes off her chest, no matter how many times she hit him. Krum was pacing around, as pigeon-footed as ever and surlier than normal.

No Harry. Well, she was a little early. A few minutes. Trust him to be right on time. He was probably dealing with Weasley's whining. That would be it. She tried to dismiss thoughts of cold feet or better offers because surely there was one. Maybe this was all some kind of sick joke and he was just trying to get one over on Slytherin.

"You gonna be okay?" Tracey asked, disentangling herself from Blaise who was chatting to a Hufflepuff boy Daphne vaguely recognised from some of her parents' parties. Damon? Derek? It didn't matter.

"Yeah, sure. I'll be fine. It's fine," It might not be fine. She tried to force a smile, failed and went back to trying not to throw up. "You guys go ahead. Have fun."

Tracey, unsurprisingly, wasn't convinced. "You sure, we can stay?"

"No, don't be daft, I'll see you later." She hovered, so Daphne gave her a little push. "Go."

"Alright, God! I'm going, I'm going!" Tracey gave her arm a quick squeeze before grabbing Blaise and disappearing off into the crowd and leaving Daphne to battle with her own anxieties. She wouldn't say she was an anxious person, typically, but then admitting to anything like that in Slytherin would be social suicide. But she wasn't. Not really. She knew what she wanted and generally tried to push herself to get it. But this was… huge. This was insane.

Where was he?

The answer, as Daphne had predicted, was simple. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was nervous. He'd faced dragons, battled a giant snake and stopped hundreds of Dementors stealing Sirius' soul; but if he could do any of those things over this - he would. The others had already gone downstairs, while he and Ron continued to fuss over the robes after arriving late thanks to an impromptu snowball fight with the twins. Harry had continued to examine his reflection because he was terrified he wouldn't look right and Ron was avoiding doing anything but because his robes were awful. Not that Harry would tell him that.

And that meant they were late.

"She's not that scary, surely?" Ron asked as they raced down the moving staircase. "I mean, sure, they're pretty scary, but she's not weird or anything?"

"Not weird," Harry panted, swallowing hard and trying to stop the stitch that was burning in his midriff and starting to spread. They were nearing the Entrance Hall and more and more people were starting to gape at them as they hurried by. Harry was sure he heard some of the girls laughing at Ron's robes.

"So, who is she? C'mon, you can tell me."

Harry wasn't exactly sure about that. Ron had a rather spotty track record with Slytherins at the best of times. "Promise you won't panic?"

"Panic?" Ron repeated as they slowed to a stop, both boys leaning against the cold stone walls. "She's not a Slytherin, is she?"

"Well -"

"She is?" Ron looked appalled. "Who? Not Parkinson?" He paled. "Bulstrode?"

"No!" Harry couldn't imagine anyone worse. "Her name's Daphne."

There was a long pause while Ron mentally went through their Potions class, then he said, "Greengrass?"

"Yeah." There was a pause. "I mean. I didn't ask her. She asked me. The other night. In the library and, well, pointed out all this house rivalry stuff is stupid and sort of asked me. And I don't know, she seemed nice. And funny. And, I just, well I need a date. We've got to lead the dance. So I, you know, said yes."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Harry repeated, he hadn't told Ron because he'd been expecting some kind of explosion and after everything with the First Task, he didn't fancy losing his best mate for another few weeks or worse.

"Yeah, just, I didn't think she was your type." Ron shrugged. "Heard she can be a bit, you know, icy?"

"She's always been nice enough to me," this was going much better than he'd expected. And it was true. The time he'd spent with Daphne had been nice. She'd also not minded the fact he'd stood on her feet more than once. It was just nice. He didn't need to worry about the tournament or Voldemort or anything like that. It had just been one foot in front of the other, literally. "Look, mate, this isn't going to be a problem, is it?"

Ron had made his feelings on Slytherins clear the entire time they'd been at Hogwarts. In fact, Ron was the reason that Harry spent most days with a lion on his chest and not a snake.

"Rather you than me. I mean, I'm not thrilled or anything. I think I'd rather date Eloise Midgen. And can you imagine what mum'd say?" he shuddered, a grimace contorting his freckled face. "It's your life, mate. Anyway, it's just a dance, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he wasn't entirely sure what exactly it was, but he was excited to find out. "Thanks, mate." Ron simply shrugged, his face souring as the lace rubbed against his cheek.

"C'mon, let's just get this over with." He moaned. Parvati was in for a treat. Harry was sure she'd only agreed because it had been Harry who had asked and not Ron. They met her at the top of the stairs down into the Entrance Hall. Her mouth practically hit the floor when she saw him. It did nothing to improve Ron's mood.

"Yeah, I know," he huffed, before sticking out his arm. She took it like it might explode. "See you later, Harry."

"See you." The Entrance Hall was emptying out now. More and more people were going into the Great Hall. He wasn't sure who saw the other first, but after a moment of scanning the crowd, emerald eyes found pale blue. He was glad that he was making his way down the stairs, because at least then he didn't have to be embarrassed as words failed him. She was beautiful. There was no other word for it and even that didn't seem to do her justice. Her hair was perfect, her dress was incredible, but he couldn't draw himself away from her smile. It just up her face in a way that he doubted many people saw. And yet here he was, lucky enough to see it.

Daphne hadn't been able to stop panicking since Tracey had disappeared into the Hall. She stood a little away from the cluster of Champions, to make sure that no-one could assume she was waiting for Harry until he actually showed up. She spotted Weasley first. It was impossible not to. He looked like a doily that had been set on fire thanks to the combination of his hair and all that lace. Just in front of him, picking his way down the stairs in emerald green robes that perfectly matched both her dress and his eyes, was Harry.

She wasn't entirely sure what her face was doing, but she knew she must look ludicrous. By the time he'd managed to fight through the crowd people had noticed just who he was trying to find. Some were pointing at them, others conversed in hushed whispers.

From the front of the small queue of Champions, Daphne saw Granger shoot Harry a quick frown that said clearly that they would be talking about this later. So, he hadn't told them. This really was going to be interesting. But as he closed the final few feet between them none of that somehow was important anymore.

"Hi," he said, apparently unable to stop himself from smiling. It was as corny as it was endearing. Daphne hated romance on the face of others, but the inescapable tingling down her spine was telling her she rather liked it on his face. "You look… incredible."

Wow. Okay. He went there. He didn't hate her dress, her hair, her purse, anything. He liked it, more than liked it apparently. Seconds pulled out in front of her like the great expanse of space. So, naturally, her mouth took over, bypassing the traffic jam of her thoughts.

"You don't look so bad yourself." It could've been worse.

"Thanks," he seemed to enjoy her sarcasm, or apparently hadn't received compliments so she just had a low bar to meet. Either way, she was just pleased he wasn't running for the hills. In the Entrance Hall, Daphne couldn't stop herself from feeling like Harry definitely could have chosen better. There were a myriad of beautiful girls and frankly women. And yet he'd chosen her. Or rather, she'd chosen him. "I didn't choose it, so I'm glad you like it."

"Well whoever did, they have taste," Daphne assured him, trying to inject some kind of warmth into her words. They were on dates to a ball, after all. That stopped her. Was this a date? It was kind of a date. Sort of. The idea of a date. Did he think this was a date?

They were interrupted by McGonagall descending on them and moving them to the back of the queue that, thanks to Daphne, Harry had been expecting. When everyone was seated in the Great Hall they were shown inside. The Hall was covered in sparkling frost for the occasion. Every eye was on them, even the whizzing magical eye of Mad-Eye Moody remained eerily stationary as they proceeded towards the high table.

"Don't look," Daphne whispered, under the guise of taking Harry's arm to be closer to him, "but I think Malfoy's about to have a heart attack."

Harry shot a look over her shoulder and had to bite his lip to hide his laugh. Malfoy's usually pale skin was white than a unicorn's mane. Tracey had been right, it was worth it just to see his idiotic staring. He wasn't the only one though. Granger and Krum or Daphne and Harry, it was a fight for who could be the most audacious couple.

When they reached the high table a red-haired boy, who Daphne vaguely recognised as the most annoying Weasley, pulled out a chair for Harry. To his credit he looked to her before accepting, much more gentleman than fantastical legend. Malfoy would have strode proudly over, probably shown her off and then ignored her while he rubbed shoulders with the only Ministry representative at the table. Even Blaise would've probably pushed some kind of agenda on him.

Harry? Well, Harry put up with him for as short a time as was polite, before saying loudly to Professor Dumbledore, "Professor, weren't you interested in flying carpet laws?"

"Certainly," Dumbledore smiled, giving Harry a small wink while the boy Daphne now knew as Percy turned his chair so he could excitedly bore the arse off Dumbledore about magic carpets of all things. Well, someone had to love them. God awful things.

"Sorry about him," Harry muttered, "he's got this job with Crouch and honestly he's a bit of a nightmare."

"My father works at the Ministry, I know all about people who care far too much about things that don't matter."

"What does he do?"

"He works in Games and Sports, same as Bagman. I think they'd want him to head up the place, but mum would kill him if he took it up full time." Her mother was a Lady for a reason, and one of those reasons was to spend an inordinate amount of time living a lavish lifestyle with her husband. "He's got a stake in Puddlemere United, quite a big one actually. I think you'd probably quite like him."

"Sounds like it," Harry grinned, "and what about you?"

"What about me?"

"What do you like, apart from dancing?"

"You can probably guess I like music," Daphne began, twirling her fork around the pasta that she'd ordered. Her mother's family had originally been from Italy and while Daphne had never met her Nonna and Nonno, her mother's love of Italian meals had basically meant that Daphne was raised on pasta. Hogwarts never got it right, but then, British people never did. "I can play the piano, I tried the violin but Tori hated me for it. Apparently, it sounded like a banshee.

"What else? I'm pretty okay at drawing, painting, that kind of thing." Although she couldn't remember the last time she'd actually shown anyone her work. "Swimming, my parents have a pool, so I'm in there most days when I'm home. What about you? Apart from flinging yourself into any dangerous situation you can find."

Harry chuckled good-naturedly, it was surely impossible for him to not know he was a danger magnet at this point. "Quidditch. Obviously."

"Obviously. You're quite good."

"Is that a compliment?" Harry teased.

"Careful, Potter, or you won't get any more," Daphne shot back, her tone playful. From behind Harry, she could see Percy frowning at her, clearly having one ear on their conversation.

"I like chess, though, I kind of suck. Ron always beats me. But then Ron beats everyone. I dunno, I didn't really get a chance to do a lot of stuff growing up. As crap as it sounds, I just go on loads of walks."

"Nothing wrong with that. What are they like, the muggles?"

"Pretty awful," Harry shrugged, "but that's not all muggles. I live with my aunt and uncle and they, well, they don't really like magic."

"How can you not like magic?" It was like not liking breathing.

"Trust me, they don't. I think they're just scared of it, 'cause they can't do it. I dunno, I'm not really allowed to talk about it."

She filed that away for later discussion, not wanting to press him on what was clearly a sore subject when they were meant to be having fun. "Well, let's fix that, favourite spell. Go."

"Really?"

"Why not?"

They carried on like that for the next few minutes, talking about everything and anything they could. Daphne normally loathed small talk, but found herself so effortlessly comfortable with Harry that it didn't feel dull. Most people were boring, fundamentally dull, or annoying, or ignorant, or just assumed because she came from a rich family she wanted to be treated like a 'lady-to-be' should be. Harry, who through their conversation revealed that he knew barely anything about even his own family history, let alone anyone else's, just treated her perfectly normally. It was refreshing compared to the political point-scoring, name dropping and endless bickering of Slytherin Common Room.

Their solace was, however, short-lived. As soon as the meals were over, the chatter died down and the tables were cleared from the main floor. Daphne had done stuff like this loads of times before, admittedly she'd never been the one to actually kick it all off, but once you were up there you generally didn't notice the eyes of on-lookers. Generally. She had a funny feeling this would be different.

All eyes were on them as the Champions and their partners headed to the dance floor. Daphne's heart was in her mouth, but she couldn't afford to let Harry or anyone else for that matter know. So, she simply took his hand and settled into the frame she'd been taught her entire life, trying not to let her breath hitch as she felt Harry gently place his hand on her waist.

"Is that alright?" He whispered, his voice only audible to her even in the hush of the Great Hall.

"Believe me, Potter, you'd know if it wasn't," Daphne teased, before adding, "it's fine. You're doing great. Just follow my lead, okay?"

He nodded and a moment later the Wyrd Sisters struck up a slow tune that Daphne recognised as I Can't Live Without You. Good choice. She moved them clockwise in a gentle spin, making sure to count softly for Harry until he got the grips of where best to put his feet. Every now and then she'd catch a glimpse of a face she knew in the crowd. Tracey beamed, Malfoy was scowling, Pansy was outraged. But as her nerves died away, they stopped becoming recognisable faces. There was nothing worth paying attention to apart from their dance.

"You've been practising," Daphne noted, not unkindly.

"I had a good teacher," she didn't need to see his face to hear the smile in his voice.

"And you weren't a bad student," Daphne conceded as she rested her head on his shoulder. It broke all formal etiquette, but she didn't care, she liked him, she had for a while and here she was finally living out her dream. Hell, every girl in the school's dream. The trouble with dreams, they all come to an end eventually.

The Wyrd Sisters rounded off the song to a round of applause, it was only when people started clapping that Daphne realised quite how full the dance floor was. The result was a raucous crowd of thrashing bodies at the next song that they both lost themselves in, Daphne unable to stop herself from laughing when Harry's flailing left arm nearly took out one of the Weasley twins.

"Mind yourself there, Harry!" he shouted, ducking under Harry's arm and nearly spilling his drink. Then his eyes drifted to Daphne and he looked as though he wanted to say something, but was pulled back into the crowd by his date.

He wasn't the only one.

Quite a few people gaped and stared at them as the night wore on, but Harry either didn't notice or was too used to it to care. Daphne, who had grown up surrounded by pureblood gossip-mongering, would simply smile at them whenever they stared too long and they would find themselves staring at the ceiling in social embarrassment.

It was, if any evening could be, pretty much perfect. There was the odd hiccup. Neville Longbottom nearly spilled her pumpkin juice all over her dress after he was shoved out of the queue for the bar by Malfoy, Tracey dragged her away from Harry for a good ten minutes to quiz her on everything that had happened and Weasley disappeared early leaving Harry confused and guiltily wondering if it was he was the problem.

"If it's any help though, I don't think you're the problem," Daphne told him after he confessed this to her in the Grounds. The night was cool, but not unpleasant and after so much dancing it was nice to not be worrying about sweating constantly in front of Harry.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that your little friendship group is home to a budding romance and I'll give you a clue, Weasley doesn't fancy you."

He frowned for a moment, then the knut dropped. "Oh." He paused, gazing out at the lake where the Giant Squib was leisurely waving its tentacles out of the water. "And what do I do?"

It was never an easy thing to be the centre of a Hogwarts love story, especially when you weren't even one of the people in love. It had been a nightmare watching Blaise and Tracey dance around the point until a few weeks ago.

"You've just got to be there for them if or when they figure it out," He hummed, clearly not happy with that solution but knowing full well she was right. "But for now, how about we just enjoy the evening?"

He smiled and it struck Daphne how rare a thing that was. Most of the times she'd seen him around he'd be scowling or lost in his own thoughts, as if the world were weighing on his shoulders. Sometimes it probably was. Black. The Chamber of Secrets. Now the Tournament. And it all happened to him. She was glad, at least for that night, that he finally got to relax.

"Sounds good to me," he took a sip of his butterbeer, examining the liquid as if he were debating whether he should say what was clearly on his mind. "I meant what I said, by the way."

"When? We've talked a lot tonight."

"You really do look beautiful."

The world seemed to stop. Every gear in her brain ground to a halt.

Okay. Right. Just be cool. It's a compliment. That's fine. People give compliments all the time. Tracey'd said she looked great. Blaise had implied it. People said it all the time. He was just being nice, after all, hadn't he been the perfect gentleman all evening? That would be it.

So, instead of sincerity, sarcasm prevailed.

"Careful, Potter, a girl might think you're getting ideas."

"Would it be so bad if I was?"

This was not happening. She stared. Tried to come up with something cool or intelligent to say. Failed. Tried again, got nothing but a blank and so, her heart in her mouth and her breath seeming to have escaped her, she simply said, "I think I'd like that."

That coy grin was back, the one he'd worn when he'd first seen her or when they'd been dancing for hours on end. She hadn't noticed until that second that their hands were just centimetres away from one another. She wondered if he'd noticed too.

"You would? I mean, great. Cool." They looked at each other, an awkward bubble seeming to balloon out between them, but then a small laugh escaped his lips and it burst into nothing. "Sorry. I'm not, you know, I've just never -"

"Neither had I."

"You mean you were asking me out on a date?" He asked, clearly trying to tease her after her very formal request to be 'partners' rather than each other's 'date'.

"You mean you didn't notice?" Daphne countered, flipping the question on him with no small amount of pleasure. They'd both stopped walking a long time ago, neither of them quite noticing when it had happened. The sound of the Yule Ball was nothing but a distant echo, the happiness of Hogwarts student body nothing but background noise to their conversation.

"Why me?" Daphne asked, "you could have anyone." Why waste your time on me? She added in the privacy of her own head. It wasn't borne entirely from self-doubt, although there was plenty there and always ready to rear its ugly head. She could pick out her faults a million miles away, but it wasn't just that. It was true, he could have anyone, so why ask out a Slytherin? He'd proven by now that he had no idea about her heritage, nor did he want to get his hands on her father's galleons (he probably had thousands if not millions of his own).

"Tonight was amazing, which is funny because for the last few weeks ago I'd have taken another round with that dragon over this," he ran a hand through his constantly messy hair, hesitated and then took her hand. It didn't matter that they'd been dancing all night, something felt different about how he held her hand in his. It was more gentle and certainly, at least from her point of view, more exciting. "I just… I want to see where this goes."

"Well," Daphne started, trying to regain some of the composure she'd lost over the last few minutes. "Hogsmeade's coming up, 'till then we could meet up? Maybe go for walks around the lake?" Other ideas leapt into her mind, but she stopped herself from saying them. She didn't want to scare off the poor boy.

"I'd like that," his eyes shot to her lips, but he didn't move. Courage, it seemed, even failed Gryffindors sometimes. They toyed around with date ideas for a few minutes longer before heading back to the castle and, after one more dance that she wished would go on forever, the Hall was cleared and the ball was over. It was a night, Daphne decided after a rather subdued goodbye in the Entrance Hall - brought on by several onlookers including a rather curious Blaise and Tracey - that she would remember for a very, very long time.