Chapter Four: What You'll Sorely Miss

"You're joking, an hour? What are you supposed to be, a fish?"

"If only being an animagus was easy," Harry grumbled, leaning against the fence that looked out onto the Shrieking Shack. Somehow along the way they'd ended up walking away from the village and had settled there, just the two of them. Most boys she knew would bumble around Zonko's and try not to get caught staring at whichever poor girl they dragged along, maybe show her off to their friends or drag her to the disgusting tea shop.

Harry had done the opposite, first of all by asking what shops she wanted to go to, before quickly grabbing them hot drinks from a small stall Daphne had never noticed before. They had planned to go to Honeydukes, but they hadn't even managed to get near the store without a fair few onlookers staring at them. It wasn't just students either. Harry was a bloody celebrity, whether he liked to admit it or not. Daphne had half-expected Skeeter to jump out of a barrel or that foul cameraman appearing in a puff of smoke as he grabbed a picture of them in the street.

"What'll it be, do you think? What you'll sorely miss?"

"No idea," Harry shrugged, "my firebolt maybe?" Daphne tried her best to cast images of him facing off a dragon out of her head. Really not helpful right now.

"Potentially," Daphne agreed, although stealing objects from students was probably quite unethical, even by the Triwizard Tournament's standards. "But what would Krum have? Or Delacour? Not like they've got a dorm full of stuff Crouch can riffle through. Maybe it'll be a person, like Weasley or Granger." Or me. Bit forward. But fun to think about. "How are they, by the way?"

"Okay, I think? They're talking now, but Hermione was a bit upset."

"I saw," it had been rather sweet watching him leave the Great Hall on Boxing Day. Astoria, being Astoria, had instantly begun theorising about his intentions and what had upset Granger - suggesting that the muggleborn witch was upset about Daphne's budding infatuation with Harry. Like she'd have a look in if that were true. "It was good of you. To look after her like that."

"She's my friend," Harry said as if it were that easy.

She smiled fondly. This. This was why she liked him, why she'd asked him. It helped that all of his courage and his bravery and his good nature just embedded itself into his face, making the skinny boy some people saw become so much more. You could be as beautiful as you wanted, but if you had the personality of a Bowtruckle, it just seeped into every crack and crevice.

Harry. First, he'd been this dragon tamer but then she'd actually paid attention. Got to think she knew what he was like and the truth was so much more. And she hadn't really scratched the surface. Sure, he wasn't everyone's cup of tea, but that didn't matter to her. She knew the same could be said for her, after all, hadn't plenty of people around the castle been doing it for weeks? She wondered if he looked at her the same, or if her 'beauty' would fade as he got to know her?

"You wouldn't last a day in Slytherin."

"You and Davis look after each other," Harry pointed out.

"Tracey and I mutually support one another's interests to protect our own," Daphne corrected if only to tease him. "Besides, if we didn't I'd have to deal with Malfoy or Nott or any of that lot being gross on my own. No, thank you."

"What do you mean?" She always forgot he'd been raised by muggles. It was impossible to separate the magic legend from the boy sometimes, but just because he'd been an ever-present in her world didn't mean they'd been there in his. So, it was time for a history lesson then.

"Purebloods like to marry early, or at least get engaged straight out of Hogwarts." It was a grotesque practice and would be outlawed if she had her way, but it didn't stop being true. She began counting them off. "Malfoy and Parkinson. Bulstrode and Goyle probably. Montague and Flint - his sister. Crabbe's tried it on more than a few times. Repugnant little troll. The point is, they're all getting ready to make political moves like the good little purebloods they are. The boys, they try and marry up or level. The girls…"

"Try not to hex them?" Harry guessed, disgust on his usually kind face.

"Why would we give them such courtesy?" Daphne smirked, the last Crabbe had made a move he'd not been able to sit down for a week. "We tend to try and stick together, Tracey and I, because we'd sooner chuck ourselves off the Astronomy Tower than be, in my case a cash grab and in her's second best. I'm not saying she is before you say anything, but a half-blood with a muggle father isn't top of the shopping list."

"Is that why you asked me to the Ball?"

"Among other reasons," she leaned her head against his shoulder, looking out at the Shrieking Shack. He didn't move at first, but after a nervous moment, she felt him move and pull her closer, his arm around her waist. "You know, most girls wouldn't appreciate being taken to Britain's most haunted building."

"Good thing it's not haunted."

"You're kidding?"

"It was Professor Lupin," Harry explained, "when he, you know."

"I do."

"He'd come here, Dumbledore put the Whomping Willow over this old tunnel and Professor Lupin would have somewhere safe to go."

This was so surreal. Of course, the Shrieking Shack was a lie. And of course, Harry somehow was linked to it all. "And you know this how?"

"'Cause my dad was one of the ones that'd go with him," Harry said fondly. "Him and his friends, they found out Professor Lupin was a werewolf and so they became animagi. To help him. Dad was a stag."

Daphne couldn't believe what she was hearing. "No way! Animagi. Do you know how hard that is? And they were what? Sixteen? Seventeen?"

"Fifteen," Harry corrected.

"Fifteen," Daphne repeated aghast. And she felt good about managing to cast the summoning charm before anyone else. Compared to James Potter she was a toddler with a stick. Fifteen. Merlin's beard. "Trust you to be related to one of the youngest animagus ever and who just happens to be part of the biggest folklore lie in Hogsmeade. You make my lot seem perfectly dull."

"Your dad owns a Quidditch team! How is that boring?"

"Part-owns," Daphne corrected, pulling away slightly if only to look at the sheer excitement on his face. "You're gonna be insufferable when you meet him." Oops. "If."

"Already thinking about that?" His tone was teasing, not panicking. Which made one of them. Why, why did she have to relax and just spew random thoughts out of her face. At least this wasn't a first date. Not really. They'd met up loads in between. That made it fine. She hoped.

"Like you haven't," she shot back.

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, because I'm so amazing, obviously," Daphne joked, flipping back her hair and doing her best to look as haughty as most pureblood women did. Well he wasn't running for the hills. That was good. God, why had she said that?

"They can't be any worse than the Dursleys."

"No," Daphne agreed, they'd spoken a little about his family and none of his reviews had been glowing. She wanted to meet them out of morbid curiosity. To put faces to the awfulness of their reputation, or rather lack of. Harry never really liked to talk about them after a mild complaint or insult. Clearly, they didn't like each other, but how bad could they be? Pretty awful if they hated magic. That fact still baffled her. How could you not like something that made life a million times easier?

"You don't even know the worst of it."

"I'm happy to listen if you want me to?"

"Maybe not on our first date," Harry pointed out, "or is this our second?"

"How about our second first date?" Daphne suggested, "seeing as you didn't pick up what I was trying to do with the Yule Ball."

"You're the one that said partner."

"You're the one that looked at me like I had spattergroit," Daphne countered before she could stop herself.

"Yeah, that's fair," Harry laughed, "okay, second first date."

"Speaking of seconds, if you need a hand with the second task, just let me know. As Tori keeps telling me, I spend far too much time in the library, so I might as well put it to good use."

"I'd like that and to be honest, I could use the help, so long as you don't mind, you know, being there with me?"

"I thought it was customary when trying to date someone that you have to see them?"

"Yeah, but, I just wanted to check."

"While sweet," Daphne said, pulling out of his hug so she could look into his face. "I am okay. You don't have to worry about me or this," she took his hand, intertwining their fingers. "Whatever this is, I'm having far too much fun to let a bunch of jealous schoollgirls bother me."

"I'd understand, though, if you were. I mean, I know what it's like."

"Are you trying to talk me out of dating you?"

"Just letting you know what you're getting yourself into, if this is what you want?"

The thought had crossed her mind too. The reality of dating Harry, or seeing him, or whatever it was they were doing, was so different to the idea. When she'd fantasised about the Ball or the weeks that might have followed, she'd not imagined what it would be like to be public enemy number one. There would be plenty of backlash. Sure. But for the moment, he was worth it. Was she? Well, she was sold on that. But at least he was used to people judging his every choice. Hopefully, it wouldn't get to him.

"No, didn't you know? I'm here against my will. You see, Draco's father is paying me to spy on you and then bump you off for having the gall to defeat his precious Dark Lord." She smirked before leaning up slightly to kiss him again. It was just as good as the first time. "I'm a big girl, Potter. I know what I want, just consider yourself lucky it's you."

It was her turn to be surprised as he kissed her, his hands wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer to him. Merlin's beard, she was never going to get used to that.

The rest of the day basically flew by and far too quickly Harry and Daphne had to head back to the castle. It was, simply put, wonderful. And even as the pointed gazes started again, something felt different as she and Harry walked through the Entrance Hall hand in hand. Her nerves were still there but they didn't burst through her mind like a rampaging hippogriff. They parted at the end of the House tables and it felt as though the entire school was watching. They probably were.

"Well," Astoria began almost as soon as Daphne sat down, having ditched her own friends to sit with Tracey and Blaise so that she could ambush her sister. "How was it?"

"Do you have nothing better to talk about?"

"No," Astoria said without a hint of shame, "now, spill! I had to spend all day listening to Penelope whining about how she wished it was her. Like Potter even knows who she is."

"I don't even know who she is," Tracey pointed out.

"Same here," Blaise added.

"Will you two be quiet?" Astoria shushed, waving her hand at them while Daphne helped herself to what she hoped might finally be some good lasagne. Her first bite revealed it wasn't. She couldn't wait to go home. "Daph. Potter. Spill."

"It was nice." Daphne tried tactfully, knowing full well that Astoria would not be sated with such a paltry answer.

"Nice, is that it? C'mon! You've got to give me more than that."

"I heard you snogged him in the Entrance Hall," Blaise said conversationally, causing Astoria to nearly drop her pumpkin juice.

"You didn't?"

"What if I did?" Daphne enjoyed winding up Astoria. For one thing, it was easy but for another, she was going to remind her of this grilling in a few years when she had her own partner to bring home to their parents.

"Well, I never. What happened to little miss prude?"

"I am not a prude!"

"You so are!"

"Where'd you go?" Tracey asked, trying to steer the conversation away from sisterly bickering. "We didn't see you in the Three Broomsticks."

"No, we got treated to Draco saying you're a traitor, so probably a good thing you didn't show."

"Just around," Daphne shrugged, "you know, picked up drinks, visited a few shops. We just talked really. About the tournament, school, those muggles he lives with, all sorts. It was just… I don't know, easy?"

Blaise reacted first. "Careful, Greengrass, or you'll fall for the poor boy."

"I think it's sweet," Tracey interjected, giving Blaise a gentle smack on the arm out of solidarity. "You deserve it, Daph."

"Nevermind that, is he a good kisser?" Astoria asked with far more relish than any of the others.

Daphne was treated to similar bouts of questioning over the next few weeks. But after a while, most people seemed to settle to the idea. Malfoy would loudly spout bigotry and proclaim that fraternising with anyone outside of Slytherin house was a betrayal to everything they stood for, but Daphne just ignored him. It was easy enough. She'd been doing it for years.

She and Harry fell into a kind of rhythm. Every other evening he would meet her in the library to go over the various charms and options he had for the Second Task, while she would complete her homework and help where she could. Some evenings Granger would join them. Occasionally Weasley would try and make an effort, but much like the rest of Slytherin house it was blatantly obvious that he had mixed feelings about her and Harry. If only he knew how similar he was to them, maybe he'd burst a blood vessel or realise it was bloody stupid. Daphne, mainly for Harry, tried her best to not show how irritating this was.

Their weekends were spent wandering the Grounds, or else in the castle. Daphne taught him how to play Gobstones, while Harry did his best to teach her chess and convince her to come flying with him. It was not something he was ever going to manage. No way. No matter how cute he was when he smiled or persuasive he could be.

It was nice. Easy.

That was until the second task.

Daphne had been with Harry the night before the Second Task. He, Granger and Daphne had cleared one of the classrooms on the first floor, with permission from Professor McGonagall apparently. Daphne had no idea why Granger had bothered to get permission but didn't want to start a fight. Granger, admittedly, was much easier to get along with than Weasley - who regarded her with a mild sense of distrust whenever she joined the three Gryffindors in the library at Harry's invitation.

Harry had still been trying to master the bubble-head charm. It was, they had agreed, about the only thing they could find that would help Harry to breathe for an hour underwater. There was a bunch of herbs and fungi that might've done the trick, but there was no way to get any of that within such short notice given how rare it was. He had managed to do it a couple of times, but nowhere near consistently enough for any of them to be confident that he could plunge himself into the lake for an hour to get his firebolt, or catch a snitch, or whatever the hell else they'd stick down there for him.

Granger was all about practice, while Daphne did her best to simply let Harry know he could do it. Merlin's beard, the boy could summon a Patronus - which had been a fun tidbit of information she'd picked up after Hogsmeade - he could manage the bubble-head charm.

"If you get nervous, just look to the stands," Daphne whispered to him as Granger loudly began reading the spell instructions for the fifteenth million time that evening. "I'll be there. I know you can do it."

"And if I don't?"

"Just flail around in the water for an hour," Daphne shrugged, "or you could do laps. Maybe even a stand-up routine. You'll get through anyway. It's not like they can disqualify you now. All the champions get to the third task, winning just decides when you start."

"And when was anyone going to tell me this?" Harry gaped.

"Just try it with a flick, Harry," Granger instructed.

"And ruin the suspense?" Daphne grinned, although privately wondering why the hell he hadn't been told this. Mind you, why he'd even been allowed to compete in the first place was mind-bogglingly stupid. It was blatantly obvious he'd not entered himself, she'd known as much just seeing his bloody reaction before they'd even spoken. And he was fourteen. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you looked at it, he was a fourteen-year-old that just happened to be damned good at getting in and out of trouble.

"Like this!" Hermione said, before producing a bubble out of her wand and levitating it around her head. There was a muffled shout of probably triumph or indignation that Harry wasn't paying attention to. Probably both.

"Like they'd tell us anything useful."

"I thought you knew, I mean it makes sense, right? You've all gotta be there for the last task. Even if you get smacked around by the giant squid they'll just drag you out and get Pomfrey to do, you know, whatever it is she does." Healing magic had never been her specialty. Even a basic ferula was bloody difficult.

"That's really encouraging," the grin gave away his sarcasm.

"At least you won't die," Daphne shot back, "which is good because, you know, I think Weasley would miss you."

"Not you?"

"A bit, like a smidge."

He chuckled, "Maybe I need to give you something to miss."

"I wouldn't say no."

"When you two are quite finished," Granger interrupted, "Harry needs to practice."

Right. Yes. You're here. Great. Totally didn't forget. Daphne, wishing she was at the bottom of the lake, gave Harry a small push in the chest, sending him in Granger's direction and praying to any deity that would listen that she hadn't heard any of that.

But before the night could change to morning, Moody had summoned them to Professor McGonagall's office. He'd stomped them to McGonagall's office, who had explained to them that Daphne's joke about being what Harry would 'sorely miss' was anything but. Oh good. As if the rest of the school didn't hate her enough already. Well, the part that fancied Harry anyway or were in Slytherin anyway.

One second, she was staring into the point of McGonagall's wand and the next, well, the next she was absolutely sopping wet in the middle of the lake trying not to drown out of sheer shock.

Water rushed around her. She spluttered. A crowd cheered. A girl next to her splashed madly. What the hell was going on? Harry was nowhere to be seen. The girl bobbed under and Daphne, not wanting to be seen as an accomplice to child drowning, begrudgingly plunged into the water, taking the girl under one arm, before swimming towards the shoreline where there were people waiting on the decking that hadn't been there the day before. Thank Merlin for her parents' insistence on her picking up a hobby.

"Gabrielle!" The Beauxbaton champion, Fleur Delacour, shouted as Daphne hauled the girl onto the decking. "Zank God you are alright!"

"I'm fine too, thanks for asking," Daphne muttered, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes as she clambered out of the water before trying to yank off her wet outer robe. If she was Harry or even Cedric, no doubt Delacour would've been all over her. Kissing her. Showering her with praise. Yeah, Daphne knew girls like her all too well. Part-Veela or not. Before she could say anything else, she was mauled into a blanket by the overly fussy Madam Pomfrey and pushed along the deck to sit with the other survivors.

"Daphne! Oh thank goodness, are you alright?" This was Granger, her usually bushy hair plastered to her scalp. Well, as plastered as it could be.

"Yeah, fine, where's Ha -"

The rest of the question was drowned out by another great cheer from the crowd. In the middle of the lake, Harry burst out of the water. Relief washed over her. He was okay. He'd done it. Whatever it was. Saving her from a rock? A village? Maybe she'd been tied up, or put in a little cage or something. None of the ideas filled her with much joy. There'd been something about the lake and Dumbledore telling them they were perfectly safe, which was always what people said before something horrible usually happened. All around Harry merpeople began bursting out of the water, none of them helping Harry to swim across the lake despite clearly being absolutely exhausted.

Ignoring the cries of Madam Pomfrey, Daphne and Granger rushed to the small jetty to help Harry out of the water. It was only when she was absolutely sure that he was okay that Daphne allowed herself to relax and stop picturing him drowning at the bottom of the lake. It was one thing knowing this was all a stupid game, it was quite another letting go of the idea of him maybe getting hurt.

"See you didn't die then," it was times like these Daphne hated her brain's inability to check what she was saying. Why couldn't she just fuss over him like Granger would or Delacour if she got within six feet of him. It was probably what he wanted, right? Wouldn't most people?

"Not yet," Harry managed before Madam Pomfrey shoved her way through and began her medical fussing of Harry. She wasn't allowed near him until Dumbledore had revealed that Harry had been the first to arrive with the hostages, but had waited until everyone was saved to leave. Classic Gryffindor. You wouldn't catch a Slytherin doing that. Blaise would probably have made the other hostages' bonds tighter to get more time to swim to the surface.

"Second place, nice, Mr. Moral Fibre," Daphne teased as the crowd began heading back. She and Harry had been given fresh towels and warming charms and were instructed to head to the Hospital Wing if they felt any signs of a cold coming on. The Weasley twins had tried to drag Harry back to the school to celebrate, but he'd asked to catch up, preferring instead to sit on the small jetty with Daphne.

"I couldn't just leave them, could I?"

"Diggory did," Daphne noted, "Krum too. Delacour would've if she could've dealt with a couple of fish. Are you always this nice?"

"Not always, I'd have left Malfoy down there."

Daphne laughed, unable to shift the mental image of Malfoy's sheer outrage at being saved by his mortal enemy. "Doubt it. It's your thing."

"My thing?"

"Yeah, you're a people saver. First the Weasley girl, now me, have you got a thing for damsels in distress? Should I get myself locked in a tower so you can rescue me from a dragon?"

"The bottom of a lake not enough for you?"

"I suppose it does have a kind of romance to it," Daphne conceded, "besides, I don't really like being bait. Maybe I'll save you one day. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"You have a worrying definition of the word fun."

"Coming from you. The boy who flung himself around on a broom in front of a dragon."

"I didn't enjoy it!"

"Liar. You do remember I watched you do that, and I've seen you play Quidditch. You looked exactly the same." And quite a bit hotter. "Big dopey grin and everything."

"Okay, maybe I did a bit."

"See, now who's the weird one?"

"Still you."

"Careful, Potter. Or you'll 'sorely miss me' and then where will we be?"

"You're not gonna let me forget this, are you?"

"Merlin's beard no!" Who could blame a girl for wanting a bit of validation? It wasn't every week Daphne was going to get to be the centre of a school-wide task that pinpointed what Harry would 'miss'. Sure, they'd picked her because of the Ball, but she wasn't going to let him off that easily.

"That's fair enough," Harry conceded, "they were right after all." Her heart skipped a beat. God, did he always have to do that. It just wasn't fair. Here she was trying to do a light bit of teasing and he was just all sincere and lovely and warm and supportive and was it hot or was that her?

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes but let her head fall gently on his shoulder. "For the record. If it were me, you know, being a champion. I think it'd be you down there." Her heart was racing. She was never, ever, this open. This vulnerable. This, whatever this was. It felt weird. Not bad weird. Good weird. "Or maybe Trace. Flip of a galleon. Tori at an outside chance."

She felt his arm around her shoulders and the gentle tingle down her head as his lips pressed close to her ear. She nearly melted into the lake. If there had been any onlookers she would've done. He muttered his gratitude and then words stopped being important. They were both late for dinner and quite disheveled, their lips slightly swollen and Harry's hair messier than normal and both far, far happier than the night before.

Who knew being trapped at the bottom of a lake and saved by the boy you liked could be so much fun?