AN: Hi guys, I was going to wait to share this one seeing as it's (checks watch) 16 hours after the last update but I got excited and wanted to share. It's fantastic to see so many people enjoying what started as just a dumb little way for me to counterbalance the sadness of my other story! I am really pleased to hear you like this version of Daphne, I tried to make her a bit less ice queen and a bit more of an accidentally sarcastic princess. Your support is honestly so appreciated and I just wanted to say thanks!
Anyway, on with the story!
Chapter Five: Slytherin Showdown
Slytherin Common Room wasn't normally home to out-and-out fights as such. Underhanded conflicts, sure. Jinxes, hexes and discrete and easy to deny methods of annoying each other, sure. But there were never really fights. Partially because openly stating how you felt in Slytherin was stupid as ambition meant flexibility was an all-time necessity, but also because anyone who wasn't associated with the Malfoy family would get shouted down or their life made hell for a while. Daphne had been living with shoes that went missing, clothes that were too small and bedsheets that made her skin itch long into the night for quite a while. Their not-so-subtle attempts to tell her to leave Harry alone. After the Second Task she'd barely been able to sit down for a week without wincing. She could report them, but that would make things ten thousand times worse.
That was, until Malfoy himself got a little too upset with Daphne's persistent relationship with Harry and a lovely little article written by Rita Skeeter about her being 'The Girl He Lived For' or something tripe, she hadn't really read it but had a funny feeling her parents would've. That was going to be a fun letter. But Malfoy did always take anything to do with Harry personally. May he fancied Harry as well? It would explain a lot.
"Greengrass!" He opened loudly when she returned to the Common Room one evening after a rather enjoyable chess match with Harry, Granger and Weasley, who had begrudgingly been coaching her on how to beat him. Weasley, to his credit, was trying. He failed miserably, but she respected his attempts at solidarity enough not to comment on his inability to hide his distrust. It wasn't dislike, not really. She was able to make him laugh occasionally when he forgot himself, it was more that he was waiting for her to betray them all. Idiotic. Yes. But understandable. No doubt the Weasley clan had been bullied for years by Slytherins, after all, they were quite easy targets.
"Really?" Malfoy was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, had plenty of onlookers lined up and Pansy simpering behind him like a particularly irritating pet or a pot plant in pride of place. Well, place. She doubted Malfoy was proud of Pansy. Bless her deluded, stupid, misguided soul.
The Common Room had apparently been expecting this. Blaise and Tracey had sequestered a sofa to themselves on one side and were given a wide berth by anyone that wanted to be showered in the grace of Malfoy's shadow. A few fifth-years and a sixth-year Daphne vaguely recognised were by them though. Seventh-years were far too busy to be bogged down by internal house politics, while most of the newer students and her year had taken up positions nearer Malfoy. Not great, but workable. Ish. Hopefully. If Daphne was honest with herself, she was amazed it had taken this long.
Malfoy had leapt up from the sofa he'd been lounging on as soon as she'd walked in, his wand not so much clutched but held loosely in his hand. No-one started a conversation with a wand out if they weren't implying they were going to use it.
"And put that away before you hurt yourself."
Tracey sniggered. "This is for your own good," Malfoy persisted, ignoring her remark and spurring himself on with confidence in numbers and probably in himself. "Potter is a bad bet."
"That so? And you're saying, what, Draco? That I should tie my family's future to someone much more reliable and respectable than the literal hero of our world? Who do you think that's going to be? You?"
Slytherins didn't mutter like theatre onlookers, but their faces did shift subtly. Some raised eyebrows to consider her points, others looked as though they wanted to curse her. It was a mixed crowd, really, but there were definitely more nods than there was than the consideration of casual cursing.
"Like you'd have a chance," spat Pansy.
"Like I'd want one," Daphne let the disgust show on her face, just so it really sunk in. After a good night with Harry this was the last thing she wanted. No, the last thing she wanted was a letter off her parents begging her to bring him over - that was a whole different level of awkward - but this was second place.
Malfoy took over. "Sooner or later, people'll see through Saint Potter."
"And sooner or later people will realise you're nothing more than an idiot with daddy's money," this was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea. She should pretend to listen to him. Pretend to consider his offer and then maybe get Harry to publicly break up with her and then just date on the sly until it all blew over. Yes, that's what a good little Slytherin, but she kept on talking. "We all get found out eventually, Draco."
"Yeah, Potter'll see you're just a flat-chested slut." Pansy Parkinson. The wit of Slytherin. The worst part wasn't the words, it was the nods from all around her. Tracey looked ready to jinx Pansy there and then, Astoria would've but thankfully she was busy elsewhere in the castle. Daphne felt her jaw clench as nearly half-a-decade old anxieties reared their head.
"Did you think of that one all on your own, Pansy? Or did Millie have to write it down for you?"
"Enough," Malfoy snapped, cutting across Pansy before she could retort. "You will stop your relationship with Potter if you know what's good for you."
"What's good for me?" Daphne repeated dumbfounded. "Or what's 'good' for my family?"
"They're the same thing." To most of the room they were and, in a way, they were to Daphne. Only where Malfoy saw family as a legacy, a garden for him to maintain, protect and laud over everyone else who couldn't afford the same plants or right equipment; Daphne saw it as a way to try and leave the world in a better place than you found it.
"Right. Sure. Because you know so much about my family. Or me for that matter. Let me spell this out for you, all of you." She regarded the onlookers with thinly veiled contempt. "I am not, and will not, stop dating Harry unless we choose to. Me or him. None of you. You lot, you don't get a say. It's my life. My choice. I don't give a damn about what's 'good' for my family, Draco."
"And that's where you're going wrong. That's why you're letting yourself down with Potter."
"Is it? Because the funny thing is, neither do they. We've got our seat on the Wizengamot, my dad owns a Quidditch team, Merlin's beard, he could run for Minister if he wanted to and have a good chance at winning.
"And even if that wasn't true, do you know what they want for me? To be happy. Isn't that more important than marrying well and having other vile spawn to perpetuate this nonsense? I mean, are you telling me this makes you happy? Bullying people. Belittling them. Making everyone bow to your every moronic whim." His wand was raised, but Daphne didn't even flinch. "You're a coward, who needs all these people to support him before you even try to tell me to stop this. You need a room full of people to tell one girl to stop dating a boy."
Daphne laughed, but there was no mirth in it. Her onlookers were split. There were a few nods, more than a few. Some kept their faces carefully schooled, they were the smart ones. The type of people who would only go check on a fight after it had finished. Only a few were angry. Tracey was open-mouthed and Blaise was smirking.
"I'd feel sorry for you, you know, if you weren't so pathetic." She looked around the room. "All of you look at him. Just look. This is what you're telling me our future is going to be? Draco Malfoy. All the money in the world and jealous because Harry turned you down but not me."
"You bitch."
They were laughing now. As sad as it was, pureblood society was not well-versed in acceptance. She hadn't meant it to come across like that, but clearly, she wasn't the only one who wondered if he was maybe a bit too angry. Their laughs just made it worse, because this was what Astoria might have in store, only with more male lechery. White with fury, Malfoy glared at her but no curse came. "Either curse me or don't Draco, I really don't have the time or patience for your impotence."
Not even a leg-locker, or a tongue-tier, even the furunculous curse would've been something. She let herself stop tensing.
"For those of you unaware, Draco here asked the great Harry Potter to be his friend, right before he got sorted. Right in front of us all. And Harry? Well, he took one look and chose Weasley." She took a breath to let the implications of that sink in. "Draco'd have you believe that he's always hated Harry, always been a good little Death Eater's son. Yet the first chance you got, you tried to get in on his fame. Guess daddy's name isn't that good after all."
It happened in an instant. Draco began to yell a curse. Daphne's heart froze, having not expected him to actually go through with it and far too busy grandstanding to get to her wand in time.
"Expulso!"
"Expelliarmus!"
His wand sailed across the room and into the outstretched hand of Tracey, but not before Daphne was sent flying backward and slamming into the wall. All the breath left her body. Pain blossomed in the back of her skull from where it had presumably smacked into the wall. Her vision blurred and sick tried to force its way up her throat. Her stomach convulsed. She clapped a hand to her mouth, trying not to wretch.
"You filthy half-blood bitch!" That sounded like Malfoy.
"You cowardly prick!" Definitely Tracey. Had the world always been this loud? Cold stone met Daphne's palm as she tried to force herself to her feet, a wave of dizziness grabbed her, thrust her back on her arse. Black dots flashed before her. Instinctively her hand went to her head. Something sticky and warm was matting in her hair. That wasn't good.
"Give that back, Davis!" Pansy? Millie? Malfoy, but really high-pitched?
"One more step and I'll break it."
"You wouldn't." That sounded like a Goyle or a Crabbe. Trollish and stupid.
"Try me."
There was a frustrated cry. A small scuffle and the sound of deafening silence. "What are you lot looking at?"
Retreating footsteps. A clatter. A wand falling to the ground? It was hard to focus on anything but the splitting headache and the nausea. She tried to concentrate, tried to move. Her legs felt like they were made from lead and one thousand times more difficult to move. The world spun as she dragged herself upright, came into focus for a split second and then went again. Someone caught her.
"Jesus, Daph, you okay?"
"Look at her. Of course, she's not. Greengrass, can you hear me?"
Her tongue felt heavy. Everything was taking so much more effort. Her words came out slurred. "Don't be rude, Zabzini." Close enough.
"Hospital Wing, c'mon. Blaise, you carry her. Drop her and I'll jinx you."
"Is now a bad time to say that's incredibly attractive?"
Daphne never found out if it was or not. She reckoned it was. A bad time. Not good. Everything was muddled. If she did hear the outcome then she couldn't remember. The trip up to the Hospital Wing was spotty at best. A teacher found them halfway up. Professor Flitwick. The tiny Charms professor took over transporting Daphne, or at least she hoped he did and she hadn't dreamed of being levitated through the school halls.
The bed was comfy, like falling into a cloud. Faces swam in front of her eyes. Tracey. Blaise, looking uncharacteristically worried. Then Pomfrey. All pinched and sour and bustling. Had she not had enough of the matron recently.
"You've got a nasty cut, and probably quite a bad concussion." The old matron told her. "Open your mouth. Open. Wider." Daphne tried. Failed. Tried again. "Thank you." An acrid taste was forced onto her tongue and then her mouth slammed shut without her knowledge of telling it to. "Swallow."
She did as she was told and before long the pain stopped and the world came back into focus, a little too sharply at first. This was just brilliant. Her first real fight with Malfoy over Harry and she'd been sent to the Hospital Wing. Lovely. Real fun and games this was. He was going to lose his mind.
He did.
"I'm going to kill him."
A positive start. Harry had burst into the Hospital Wing earlier that day, after no doubt the rumour mill had been in full flow and sent news his way. According to the halls of Hogwarts she'd probably been blasted through a wall, shrugged it off and been assaulted by a dragon. The truth was far more embarrassing. A bloody concussion. Fat lot of good she'd have been if the Goblet had spat her name out.
Pomfrey had ushered him away, insisting that he return only on visiting hours, which he did with a very worried Tracey Davis and Astoria alongside him. Blaise was forced to wait outside by Pomfrey, who had previously insisted that only two of the original three could come in before Harry pointed out a whole Quidditch team had been with him when he'd fallen off his broom.
"Get in the queue," Tracey snapped, angrier than Daphne had ever seen her.
"I can't believe he just jinxed you."
"What did you expect? Worms like that wouldn't let her get her wand out and bow and be all to do about it." Tracey's grip tightened and untightened on her chair as she spoke. "You should've seen it, the foul git riled up the whole Common Room. They'd been waiting for you for ages, according to Blaise. I was going to come find you and warn you but then you showed up."
"It's not your fault," Daphne assured her, "and I'm fine, really. I'm only here 'cause Pomfrey gets lonely." A loud tut echoed across the basically empty Hospital Wing. It was just Daphne and a girl with a terrible case of acne that even magic was struggling to shift.
"What was it even about anyway?"
"You," Daphne admitted, there was no point lying to the poor boy. "Dear darling Draco has it in his head that for some unknown reason you're beneath me."
"Despite the fact you're the most famous person we know," Tracey added. "Sort of know."
"And that almost every girl in this school would kill to get with you," Astoria smiled, "and that the Potter family is about as ancient as it gets."
"Really, he just hates you." Tracey decided.
"I figured that out, thanks."
"Bloody stupid if you ask me," Tracey continued, "Daph's right, he basically begged you to be his friend and now he struts around pretending you're worse than Mrs. Norris." Tracey had been found by the cat in a broom closet with Blaise the week before and had a few choice words to say about Filch's pet.
"When did this happen?" Astoria asked wide-eyed.
"I thought you knew everything."
"Most things."
"First year," Harry told them bluntly, "he said that we could've been allies or something like that."
"Well, the Malfoys do have a lot of power," Astoria nodded, "it would've made sense. And gone a long way to showing everyone Lucius isn't a Death Eater - I mean, what Death Eater would let their son go gallivanting off with Harry Potter."
"Would've been a bit Romeo and Juliet," Harry laughed despite himself. The two Greengrasses missed the joke entirely. "It's a muggle thing. We've got culture too, you know."
"I'm still gonna kill him," Harry muttered bitterly.
"You know, there are better ways at getting back at Draco than violence," Daphne pointed out, "as commendable as your desire to protect me is, Harry, let me deal with this."
"But you've been hurt."
"I'm fine."
"But you weren't."
"And I'm okay now."
"But you might not have been."
"And Malfoy might have been born a girl, or you might have been killed by that dragon and Astoria might one day be funny."
"Hey!"
"My point is," Daphne continued, unable to resist smirking at her sister good-naturedly, "there's no need to worry about what could have happened or might be. The only thing to think about is that I'm fine and I'm going to get him back for this."
"Well, if you want him jinxed."
"I know who to call," Daphne smiled, taking his hand and squeezing and trying not to let on that effort of moving forwards to reach his hand made her want to throw up in his lap. That was the sign of true romance, right?
It didn't happen for a week or so, because only stupid people retaliate when it's blindingly obvious it's coming. Instead, she let herself be discharged from the Hospital Wing, ate her meals, went to classes and generally lived her life with one eye on whatever Malfoy was plotting to do next. It turned out to be nothing, which was nice because it meant Daphne had a lovely week with Harry.
Then, just as the morning mail arrived she saw it. Bright red and carried by his Eagle Owl. Damned bird. It dropped on his empty plate, making his cutlery jink against his goblet. Every eye was on him. They all knew what that was. Every Hogwarts students' worst nightmare. It took everything she had not to let an evil smile spread across her face.
"Was this you?" Tracey whispered as Draco threw the Howler to Crabbe, who looked like he might cry or explode.
Daphne shrugged casually, before reaching for the butter and beginning to make her dry toast edible. Tracey shot her a grin. The hardest part was trapping that damned owl. It had been a nightmare trying to make sure she caught the Malfoy family owl before it flew home, then she'd had to feed it treats until it would let her near it. She still had the scratches on her arm.
"DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY!"
"Middle name. Nice touch," Tracey commented. The Howler had burst free of Crabbe's puggy hands and was about an inch from Malfoy's face.
"Thank you."
"Bit high-pitched, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it's not my finest work. Couldn't get any lace-wing flies." Voice-altering potions were a bugger to get right. You had to know what the person sounded like and Daphne was relying on a six-year-old memory she'd managed to chuck in the travel pensieve her dad had given her. He was all about clearing your mind of unwanted thoughts. There was no point actually telling his parents. What would they do? Give him more money probably. Say well done and pat him on the head. No, they probably wouldn't even do anything. Draco was to his father what Pansy was to him, a giant suck-up that they only really cared about so long as they helped them look good. Father for his legacy, Draco for his status. It must be like looking into a really crap mirror.
"IF YOU ATTACK THAT GIRL AGAIN I WILL ENSURE IT IS THE LAST THING YOU EVER DO. YOU ARE A MALFOY. YOU DO NOT EVER STOOP TO SUCH DISMAL LOWS. EVER."
"This is the best bit," Daphne whispered to Tracey as the Howler took a deep, shuddering breath.
The Howler blustered for a moment. Shook itself. Then in a much calmer, controlled and definitely worse tone, it said, "your father has been informed."
She'd played about with the idea of it exploding, but Narcissa was dramatic not a performer. So the Howler shredded itself onto his plate, leaving Malfoy and the Great Hall in complete and total shock.
Where was a camera when you needed one?
He took a few seconds to process, much like the rest of the student body who had just seen one of the school's biggest bullies shamed by what they thought was his mother. His eyes locked on Daphne's, who simply smiled and went back to eating her toast with triumphant satisfaction as the heir of the Malfoy fortune stormed out of the Hall with his tail between his legs.
"Remind me never to upset you again," Tracey said quietly as the Hall descended instantly into a cacophony of chatter. Daphne smiled just as another letter landed on the table. She recognised the crest immediately. She should do, it was hers and she had a funny feeling she knew what it was about.
There really was no rest for the wicked.
Dear Daphne,
Your mother tells me that you are courting Harry Potter
God, he was so embarrassing. Daphne had let her mother know straight after the Second Task, knowing full well that Skeeter would write some drivel in Witch Weekly.
We are obviously very happy with this development and can't wait to meet him! We know you're very busy and we're with your mother's family for the next few weeks - so it'd be lovely if you could pop over during the Easter holidays. With Harry, obviously.
I know he's probably got lots to be doing, what with being a Champion and everything, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind you two disappearing for an evening during the holidays. Just let us know the best day for you and your mother will sort out the rest, you know how rubbish I am at all that stuff.
Love you, pumpkin.
Dad
Out of the cauldron, into the fire. She looked over at the Gryffindor table where Harry was laughing while Weasley gaped at Malfoy's cronies as they followed him out of the Hall. Granger rolled her eyes and went back to her newspaper. Harry's eyes moved to hers and he smiled. He had no idea what was coming.