She was in love with Harry Potter.
In a sane world, Daphne would titter with her friends, sigh dramatically, hold her hands to her heart when she thought of him. She'd stumble through a confession, they'd kiss and fumble their way through love-making together, and maybe get married and have kids and live happily ever after.
But there was nothing sane about the world she lived in.
Harry was gone when she awoke, so she spent nearly the entire day after the disastrous Hogsmeade outing alone in the Room of Requirement, even to the point of asking Dobby to bring her food there. None of this was part of the plan. She was supposed to seduce him, win his heart, save Astoria, and then get back to her life. Simple, straightforward, and efficient.
Instead, Daphne had fallen tragically and irrevocably in love with Harry Potter.
Everything was going wrong.
"Okay," she mumbled to herself, pacing the length of the Room, mentally tabulating a list of obstacles that needed overcoming. "Got to keep an eye on Malfoy. Keep Slughorn at arm's length. Deal with the fallout from that fucking veela. Figure out how to get Astoria's cure. Help Harry… Merlin. Help Harry beat You-Know-Who."
She let loose a manic laugh at the absurdity of that last bit. Well, she was almost an adult; time to start acting like one. Even the longest journeys began with a first step. Daphne would simply have to find a way forward.
This was fine. She could handle this.
The next morning, Harry wasn't at breakfast. Daphne stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, awkwardly hovering near the door. Where was he?
Glancing over the assembled student body, she didn't know where - or even if - she fit in. Certainly not with the Slytherins, who were obviously not an option. Ravenclaw offered the chance to see Luna, but judging by the way she was already eating alone, a more open association with Daphne wasn't going to benefit her. She knew no one in Hufflepuff, and the Gryffindors were in sparse attendance, no doubt still grieving in their dorms.
Without Harry, she didn't know where she belonged. Where was he?
Classes the first day after the traumatic Hogsmeade weekend were cancelled, so without another option, Daphne wandered outside, heading for the Black Lake. Only, when she arrived, she found it already occupied in spite of the chilly autumn morning.
"-but I've already told you what you need to know!" Harry ground out, frustration audible.
Tonks, one of his 'watchers' over the summer, held her hands out in a conciliatory manner. "He was with a professor when the murders occurred. His wand was checked like every other student's. What do you want us to do?"
"Interrogate him! Lock him up! Something!"
"That's the sort of attitude that got Stan Shunpike sent to Azkaban," the tall, dark-skinned man next to Tonks chided. "We can't go around arresting people over their proximity to dodgy shops."
"Stan didn't kill anyone! Malfoy did."
"Harry?"
All three of their heads swiveled in her direction. "Daphne," he acknowledged with a short nod of his head, before refocusing on the red-robed aurors. "Just give him Veritaserum, then. Let him prove he had nothing to do with Katie's murder."
"On what grounds?" the black man asked. "It was one thing to check every student's wand. We need some evidence if we're going to select one student to potion, though. Unless you think we'd get away with dosing each student?"
"I've got nothing to hide," Harry immediately fired back. "If it meant we didn't have a murderer roaming the castle, I think most students would likely agree with me!"
"That so?" Tonks raised an eyebrow, tilting her chin in Daphne's direction.
"He's right," Daphne said, trying to be supportive, but judging by the way Tonks' eyes lingered on her, she must not have managed to mask her thoughts as well as she'd hoped.
"Listen, I understand you want something done immediately," the taller man said. "But that's not how law enforcement works. We're still investigating, but we'll put the pieces together and get to the bottom of this. Trust us."
The two of them left the lake shore, heading for the path to the gates.
"He has the Dark Mark!" Harry called out after them. "All you need to do is raise his sleeve!"
The aurors paused, then returned to where she and Harry stood. "How do you know Malfoy has taken the Mark?"
"He lashed out at Madam Malkin when she was measuring him for his robes. He was hiding his arm."
"The summer, again? And no one's noticed it in the months since?"
"Who would tell, if they had?" Daphne spoke up. "Another student, whose father is in the cell next to Draco's?"
The man exchanged glances with Tonks. "You're saying Slytherin House is actively working with You-Know-Who?"
"I- I don't know. But the older students, they've been different this year."
"Different how?"
Daphne shrugged helplessly. "It's just a feeling, they haven't said anything specific."
He made a show of looking at her robes' silver and green trim. "Really."
"Since Daphne made her loyalties clear, she's been pushed out of the dorms. They even hexed her in her sleep!" Harry cut in, taking a protective step in front of her. "Is that how it was when you were at Hogwarts?"
"It's not all that different from checking their wands, Shack," Tonks said quietly. "And it would cross Hogwarts off and allow us to get back to checking the village."
"Fine. We'll go talk to Dumbledore."
While the aurors started the walk back inside, Daphne tried to catch Harry's attention. "Do you have a second?"
"What is it?" he asked brusquely.
"It's just," she took a deep breath. "Are you still- are we okay?"
Harry's eyes hadn't left the retreating aurors. "Yea, yea it's fine," he said, before offering a distracted farewell and hurrying to the castle.
That night at dinner, the Headmaster announced that aurors would be returning in the morning and conducting checks for the Dark Mark.
When the aurors arrived, though, Draco Malfoy had already disappeared.
Mother,
If you continue to send gold to the Parkinsons, you might very well lose both your daughters this year. Stop it, now.
I turn seventeen in January. It's time for you to start trusting me, like I'm trusting you to do the right thing now and listen to me.
Give Astoria my best.
Daphne
"Hey, can we talk?"
Almost two weeks had passed since Daphne encountered Harry outside the castle, and they hadn't spent any meaningful time together since. Oh, he'd been around, certainly. But he was aimless, drifting to and fro, distracted even when they were doing nothing at all. Harry didn't initiate physical contact with her any longer, and was stilted and awkward when she tried to do so.
"Sure." He stood up, following her deeper into the stacks to a deserted portion of the library. "What's up?"
"I was hoping- I mean, we haven't really spent much time together, not since…" she trailed off meaningfully before she continued. "You've been different."
"Things haven't exactly been going great," he started, but Daphne couldn't stop herself from interrupting.
"I think the normal reaction to hard times is spending more time with the people you care about."
"We spend time together," he mumbled.
"You're physically here, but you might as well be on the other side of the castle. And it's always just you and me, you never bring me around your friends anymore. So what is it? Do you not want to be with me?" Daphne intentionally allowed irritation, rather than hurt or worry, to bleed into her words. She had her pride, after all.
He didn't answer right away, and she felt her insides seize up in terror. "Is that why you didn't go to the party on Sunday?" There had been a Slug Club gathering the prior weekend - 'All very tasteful, most assuredly, after such a dreadful loss,' Professor Slughorn had told her - that he'd skipped to squeeze in an extra quidditch practice. "But- you said you still wanted to be with me, you said you believed me."
"I- I still want to be with you," he said, leaning against a shelf of books on potions ingredients. "I just didn't feel like going, alright?"
"Okay," she said in a small voice, unwilling to push him, too unsure of just how precarious their relationship was. "I- I told my parents to stop paying Pansy. They haven't replied, but I wanted you to know."
Harry straightened and concern flashed across his face. "They won't- you won't be hurt, will you?"
Of course. Her abusive home, where she supposedly suffered the same sort of mistreatment Harry received from the muggles. So many lies… the weight of her deception pressed down on her, and Daphne curled her arms around herself, unwilling to meet his eyes, feeling her own burn with unshed tears.
"I'm sorry." Harry's voice was rough, and she felt his arms close around her, gripping her tightly in his secure hold. It was the first time he'd really held her in days. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"It's just- you don't understand. My parents, th-they don't understand…" she started to say, but how could she finish that sentence? Panic clawed at her, and she could hold back her tears no longer. What if- what if she was in too deep? What if those girls dying, and her family's culpability, stole away any chance at earning Harry's forgiveness for her dishonesty?
"You're okay, it's all right," he mumbled into her hair, gently rocking her back and forth.
Daphne gathered herself as best she could, carefully wiping her eyes and taking a deep breath, then another. No. She wasn't going to fail. She'd save Astoria and her relationship with Harry. "I missed this," she said, matching his embrace. "And you don't need to worry about me. My parents will- once they meet you, they'll get over it. They only know you from the Prophet."
"Right." She glanced up to gauge his expression, seeing his jaw set. 'Probably imagining the likelihood of meeting my parents and not exchanging spells' she thought.
"Harry?" Raising herself on her toes, Daphne pressed her lips against his neck. "Can we go back to the Room?"
"Erm, well…" her kisses went from slow to heated, tongue flicking out to taste his pulse point. "We haven't finished our Potions essay."
"I need you." Her words were breathy. "Please."
He met her halfway when she tilted her head towards him, and she revelled in the taste of him. "But our bags are still at the table!"
Pulling back, Daphne swiftly pulled her wand from her sleeve, focused on their school bags, and muttered, "Accio bags." When they came zooming towards her, she shoved Harry's into his arms and pulled at his elbow. "Let's go!"
Harry started to slow down as they approached the Grand Staircase. "Maybe we should just call it a night."
Rather than respond verbally, Daphne pushed him alongside a suit of armour in the corridor and promptly shoved her tongue into his mouth. She couldn't explain why she was acting so wanton, so… desperate. All she knew was she needed Harry, needed him to want her.
They stopped twice more to snog in the corridors on their way up to the Seventh Floor. Unfortunately, the peculiar method of entrance to the Room gave him time to collect himself.
"Stop, Daphne, hold on." It was her second turn, one more to go. "What's gotten into you?"
There! The door appeared, and she tugged at his hand. "What do you mean?"
He allowed her to pull him in, but once they set foot in a facsimile of her bedroom at home, he stopped. "One minute you're crying in the library, and the next you're trying to-, er, take me to bed."
Was that what she was doing? Daphne, for once, didn't try and close the distance between them, her gaze resting on the familiar bed she'd slept in most of her life.
Kissing Harry, feeling him against her, feeling wanted had - if only for a few blissful moments - chased away the fear and worry and stress and…
How far would she go to pursue that feeling, that security?
As far as he'd let her, she realised.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, still not meeting his eyes while tears tumbled once again from her own. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just- I've missed you, and I thought-"
"Shhh," he said in a soothing voice, pulling her into his arms. "It's okay."
"It's really not," she hiccupped. "I don't want to lose you. I can't!"
"Is that what all this was about? You felt like if you didn't-" Daphne glanced up at him, seeing Harry's cheeks flush with the unspoken words. "Please don't. If you and I, uh, get there it should be because we both want it, not because you feel like you have to."
"Things have been different. You've been different."
Harry released her, stepping away and taking a seat on the edge of her bed. "You're right, I have." He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled a huff of air. "Do you remember, before, the first Slug Club party? When I met Cynthia?"
She sat down next to him, not bothering to respond. Of course she remembered. He went on. "You said- you talked about the things we'd do after school, in the future. Our future, together. It was the first time you, we ever mentioned anything like that."
"I meant it," she said quietly. She still did.
"Now you do, sure. But what comes next? Even if I survive the war, what happens after that? Your parents will never accept me. You've already given up all your friends, are you really willing to cut yourself off from your family?" She opened her mouth to reply, but he shook his head. "I think that, I mean with everything that's happened in my life, I sometimes make things bigger than they are."
"What are you talking about? What things?"
"You and me." He gestured between the two of them. "That day in Hogsmeade, what Fleur told me, losing Katie and Leanne like that… it all made me realise how dangerous loving you is. How hard this would be even if Voldemort weren't coming for me, and-"
"Wait. Stop. You- you love me?"
His stare was unblinking as it fixed on her. "I-... Yes."
Daphne closed her eyes, an incomprehensible happiness swelling inside her. Harry loved her. They loved each other. "I love you, too," she said, keeping her eyes shut. "I love you so much."
"No, you didn't let me finish-"
She couldn't hold back a smile, wanting to jump up and down on the bed like a little girl. "I don't care. We have each other, nothing else matters." She finally looked at him, seeing concern and reluctance on his face. "As long as we're together, everything else will work itself out."
Daphne had never been so happy as she was at that moment.
It wasn't until later, after Harry left to return to Gryffindor Tower, that she belatedly realised what this meant for Astoria.
Everything was going to be fine.
"Do you think they're done with practice yet?" Her companion didn't react to Daphne's question, motionless except for her eyes tracing the words on the page. "Hermione?"
"Hm?" Glancing up, a comical smudge of ink on her bottom lip, Hermione was slow to react. "I'm sorry?"
"I asked if you thought quidditch practice was finished by now. What are you so focused on, anyway?"
"Potions. And as for the practice, I don't know. Harry's been keeping them late, what with the first match this weekend."
Daphne leaned forward to see which book Hermione was reading. "We don't have an essay due this week. You're acting like you've got a NEWT tomorrow!"
"I'm just trying to read ahead. What's the problem with that?"
"Nothing, nothing at all," Daphne said. "If you're having trouble, you should ask Harry for help, he's leagues ahead of the rest of us."
Hermione's nostrils flared. "For now, maybe. And only because he's so obviously Professor Slughorn's favourite."
Daphne couldn't deny that, but still rose to Harry's defence. "True, but it's not like Slughorn's brewing for him. Harry's still doing the work."
"Yea, well if I received private lessons, I'd do just as well!"
"What? What are you talking about?"
Hermione slid a bookmark between the pages and slammed her book shut. "He told me about how Slughorn has been giving him one-on-one instruction. It's silly, really, like the aurors wouldn't take him no matter what his potions marks are like."
"When, exactly, are these lessons taking place?"
"A few times a week, when he's not at quidditch practice or with you."
This didn't make sense. Harry never mentioned any of this to Daphne. "Do you remember the last time he went to one?"
Hermione gave her a strange look. "Last night." He'd told Daphne he was spending time with Ron and Hermione. "Don't tell me the reason he's actually doing this is just to impress you? Ugh!"
She forced a smile through her discomfort. "That's probably it."
Where was Harry really going? And why was he lying to her?
"Miss Greengrass, a word after class, if you would. I'd like to talk to you about your essay."
She nodded, and Slughorn continued roaming the aisles, observing and supervising the other students' potions.
"Don't look so concerned, maybe he was just really impressed with your work," Harry offered, pausing his stirring to briefly squeeze her shoulder.
"Maybe," she agreed, although Daphne suspected an altogether different reason.
The class came to an end, and she packed her things and approached the teacher's desk once everyone else left. "You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Have you given any thought to my proposal?" Slughorn asked, confirming her earlier suspicions.
"I didn't need to think about it. Harry has more important concerns than releasing a book." She hesitated before continuing, "In case you haven't noticed, Professor, there's a war going on, and Harry's at the center of it. You'll have to make your pitch without me."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Slughorn eventually said. "Very well then, I suppose we have nothing else to discuss. You're dismissed."
Daphne left, her shoulders back and her head held high. She was almost there, soon there'd be no more lies between her and Harry.
"I've been wondering when you would deign to consult with me."
Elysant sounded cross, and Daphne couldn't blame her. She'd barely thought about her ancestor's portrait, much less spoken to her over the last few , she gave a brief synopsis of what transpired since their last conference. "I've done it. He confessed, he loves me!"
The irritation vanished from Elysant's expression. "Truly? How did you accomplish this?"
"Does it really matter?"
"I suppose not," the portrait agreed, wearing a very unusual look. Affection, Daphne realised, thinking how foreign a positive expression was on her ancestor's beautiful face. "I'm proud of you, child. I know how hard this was."
"It was worth it. Astoria's going to recover, Harry's going to win this war, and then everything's going to be fine."
"There's still the matter of obtaining his blood."
"Yes. There is that."
"I was thinking about what you said, the first time you told me about Potter. About how ignorant he is of our customs, how he tramples all over our tradition."
It took Daphne a moment to remember exactly what she'd said. It felt like a lifetime ago. Had she really been so unkind and dismissive? "It isn't his fault, he was raised by muggles. He never had the chance to learn the things he should've known."
"Exactly. He has no idea what it is to be a proper wizard, and can only rely on what others tell him." Elysant looked pointedly at her. "Others, like you."
"Just tell me what you're proposing," Daphne said, uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going.
"Have you ever heard of hand-fasting?"
"What? No… wait," Daphne's mind worked, trying to recall where and when she'd heard reference to that word. Old memories of children's fables and fairy tails slowly trickled back to her. "Isn't that some kind of… marriage?"
"Something along those lines," Elysant confirmed. "It is a form of betrothal, where a couple agrees to a magically binding commitment for a year and one day. By the time I was born, it had already fallen out of practice. For wizards and witches of substance, marriage contracts rose to prominence. For those of… lesser stock, naturally there was no difference in their behaviour either way."
Daphne didn't appreciate the implied aspersions against her boyfriend. "'Lesser stock'? You mean, like the man you ended up marrying?"
Elysant glared hatefully at her for several seconds. "May I continue?"
"Fine. What does hand-fasting have to do with Harry's blood?"
"What does he know of a long-forgotten magical ritual? Simply tell him you seek a betrothal, and that you require his blood in order to do so."
"You want me to ask him to marry me?!" Daphne squeaked, feeling blood rush into her face.
"Yes."
"I can't- he'd never-"
"He would."
The confidence in Elysant's voice made Daphne narrow her eyes. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because of everything you've told me over the last year. Because he is a sad, lonely orphan who lost the last of his family less than a year ago. Because he is a child, one even younger than yourself, who has a death sentence over his head. He will see you as his only chance at a family of his own."
The cool, dulcet voice of the portrait did nothing to stop the way Daphne's skin crawled at such naked calculation. "Harry- he's more than that. You don't know him, not the way I do!"
"You need to keep your wits about you, to think with your head and not your hormones!" Elysant's rebuke was sharp and pointed. "Countless family members have died because of the Potters. Your sister, should you fail, will die because of the Potters. Whose side are you on? His or hers?"
"Both of them. I'm on both their sides." But even Daphne could hear how muted her words were. That hopelessness, the anxiety that had been dwelling inside her reared up, sinking its claws into her spirit. "Okay. I need to know everything you ever heard about hand-fasting."
This was… it was fine. She- she could handle this.
"When's your birthday?"
"January fifth. Why? Planning on buying me a gift?"
Harry laughed. "Am I that transparent?"
'Apparently not' she thought in irritation. So she asked in reply, "What did you do after dinner last night?"
They lay together in her bed, Harry between her legs with his back to her while she lightly trailed her nails through his hair. His voice was thick and relaxed. "Just hung out in the Tower, did some homework, the usual."
"With Ron, or Hermione?" Even if Harry hadn't told her the whole sordid affair, no one could miss the way his two best friends could barely coexist in the same room any longer.
"Um, what day is today, again?"
"Thursday." She tried to keep her voice light, inconspicuous, but she could practically feel the wariness radiating off of him.
"Hermione. She helped me with transfiguration."
Lies. Daphne had, in fact, sat with Hermione in the library the night before. Ostensibly, they were studying potions again, but in reality the outing served more as an excuse for the Gryffindor girl to make subtle jabs at her roommate's new relationship with Weasley.
"Are you seeing someone else?"
"What? Why would- no! I'm not!"
"I know you weren't with Hermione because I was. I know you're lying to me."
Harry sat up, running a hand through the hair she'd thoroughly mussed. "I mixed up the days, that's all. I was with Ron last night and Hermione the night before."
Daphne was incensed. "Do you have the Map with you?"
"Why?"
"Because I'm going to find Ron right now and find out if you're telling the truth."
Harry's eyes widened when he turned and saw how serious she was. "You don't need to do that."
"Tell me what you were doing."
He stared for a long moment, long enough Daphne actually wondered if he was seeing another girl. "It's a secret," he finally said.
"I've kept all yours so far, haven't I?"
"It's really not a big deal."
"Then there's no problem in telling me."
There was a long moment if quiet before he let out his breath in a huff. He stood up and walked over to where he'd discarded his schoolbag, reaching in and digging around for a moment, removing an item and returning to her bed.
"You've got to be kidding me. You've actually been working on potions?"
"It's not just a textbook. Whoever owned it before used it like a journal of their experiments. Brewing, preparing ingredients. Spellcrafting."
"What sorts of spells?" She flipped through the battered textbook, glancing over pages of notations and additions.
"That's what I've been doing, finding out." Harry's gaze was serious, level, and Daphne swallowed hard. It was a reminder of what was waiting for him - for them - outside of the castle's walls. "I'm sorry for not telling you the truth."
"It's okay," she heard herself say, like she was having an out-of-body experience. "When you love someone, you can forgive them for hiding something, as long as they thought they had a good reason."
Harry cocked his head, a confused but relieved smile on his face.
She prayed to anyone listening that the words she spoke were actually true.
"-and then he said, 'Two days detention, Miss Lovegood'."
"I'm sorry."
"It's alright!" the quirky blonde chirped. "I really shouldn't have been brewing potions unsupervised, even if they were gifts."
Hermione smiled, managing to restrain her laughter, although Weasley - the female one, not Ron - wasn't able to do so. "I don't think they would've appreciated those gifts as much as you think."
"Sounds to me like Luna had the right of it," Weasley countered, still smirking. "A cleansing serum for Snape's oily mess, and a hair-growth solution for Slughorn?" She dissolved into laughter once more.
"I only wanted them to look their best for the Christmas party!" Luna said earnestly. She turned to Daphne. "But because of my detention, I won't be able to help you get ready. I'm sorry, I wanted to do your hair like you did mine!"
"It's alright, sweetie. I can manage. Hermione, did you decide on a date yet?"
Her face showed a hint of colour at the question, and Hermione glanced at Weasley before replying. "I'm still weighing my options."
"Because of my idiot brother? You could do a lot better," Weasley said flippantly. "'Course, I could say the same about a lot of people in this castle."
At that, her eyes flashed briefly in Daphne's direction, but she let the slight pass by without remark, keeping her focus on Hermione. She wasn't threatened by Weasley any longer. Harry was in love with her, not his friend's little sister. "If you like, I could-"
"Hey! Am I early?"
"Right on time," Daphne said with a smile, picking up her bag and standing up. "I'll see you all later?" A range of farewells came from the other girls, all the way from enthusiastic (Luna) to disinterested (Weasley) and distracted (Hermione).
For once, Harry had the entire evening free; no quidditch or spellcasting practice. He looked relaxed and carefree as they walked, hand-in-hand through the corridors.
"Is Ron serious about Brown?"
Harry looked surprised at her sudden question, but that morphed to amusement shortly after. "I don't know."
"He's your best mate, isn't he? Don't you ever talk?"
"I think I see enough of him and Lavender together without hearing about it, too."
'Boys!' Still, she didn't like seeing Hermione so forlorn. "Okay. What did you want to do tonight?"
"I thought we could go visit Dobby in the kitchens, grab a bite to eat. I haven't seen him much this term."
Daphne had, what with all the meals she'd taken in the Room, but didn't object. "If Ron doesn't see a future with Brown, he shouldn't be wasting her time. Or his, for that matter."
"He's only sixteen, Daph."
"Exactly. He's nearly an adult now. He needs to start thinking about his future."
Harry gave her a queer look. "We're still in school. I don't think he's looking to get married."
She pulled her hand away from his, not wanting Harry to feel how sweaty her palms were. It was time. "He should be. I don't know what muggle courtships are like, but this is the way things are in our world." Daphne took a deep breath, then spoke again. "I'll turn seventeen over Yule break."
"I already knew-" Harry abruptly closed his mouth and came to a halt in the middle of the corridor. "Wait. What are you saying?"
'Easy does it' Daphne told herself, meeting his gaze. "What do you think I'm saying?"
"It sounds like you want to, er, get…" he gulped audibly. "Married."
Daphne forced her face to maintain a neutral expression. There was only a week left in the term; she'd allowed herself to procrastinate, to give into her nerves and dawdle and delay as long as she could. "I want to have a future with you. Don't you want that with me?"
Harry staggered backwards, seemingly bracing himself against the wall. "I mean, yea, but- Merlin! This feels a little sudden, don't you think?"
"For marriage? Yes. But a commitment?"
Harry's brow furrowed. "I thought we already were committed."
"I'm talking about something more than snogging in broom closets. A sign that what we are is going to last beyond Hogwarts." For all that she'd been dreading this conversation, Daphne found it a surprisingly easy argument to make.
'Because I want this' she realised. For Astoria, yes; but also, for herself and for Harry.
"I don't- listen, you mean a lot to me, but marriage…? We're too young!"
"Are we? How old were your parents when they had you?"
"Twenty."
"And they were married before you came into the picture, weren't they?"
"Yes." Harry's voice was quiet, serious; he no longer fidgeted, staring intently at her from across the corridor.
"Engaged at eighteen, married a year later, with a family a year after that. Do you know how that sounds to most wizards and witches? Normal!"
"But we're not even done with our Sixth Year! I've never seen any students with a ring on their finger!"
What sort of ring would he give to her? Something he had fashioned specifically for her, or a family heirloom? "Of course not. An engagement follows a hand-fasting."
"What is that?"
"A small, simple ritual that commits us for a year and a day. A signal that a relationship is more than a fling, that we are intended." Harry's eyes were still boring into her own. "If, at the end of that time, a couple is incompatible then they part. If not, then an engagement is formalised on the final day of hand-fasting."
"And- you think my parents did this?"
"I don't know for sure, but James Potter was the sole heir to a storied pureblood line."
"I never… no one told me."
"I thought that was why you'd asked about my birthday, but we only have a week before the term ends… Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed you knew. Sometimes I forget you grew up with those muggles."
"So you've been waiting for me to bring it up?"
"Well, yes." Daphne hesitated, then swallowed any remaining doubts. "I thought, since you knew I would reach my majority soon, you'd want this to happen as soon as possible. Before my parents could form any alternate arrangement."
Harry lurched upright, pushing off the wall and crossing the corridor to where she stood in an instant. "What? Your parents are- they're trying to set you up with someone else?"
"I don't know…" she said slowly, trying to choose her words carefully. Up to this point, her description of the - albeit ancient and no longer used - purpose of hand-fasting had been mostly accurate. "Once I'm seventeen, though, I can carry out the ritual myself."
He didn't say anything. Daphne reached out and took both his hands in her own. "I didn't mean to surprise you like this. I guess I understand it might feel sudden. But you were so worried about our future, about my family accepting our relationship. This is the best way."
"Why?" he whispered.
She released his hands and instead cradled his face. "It's like magic, Harry. Intention is what counts. I want my parents to see I'm just as serious about you and I - our family - as I am about them and Astoria." Daphne stood on tip-toe and brushed her lips against his softly. "I love you."
Harry blinked rapidly and his breath caught, then he wrapped his arms around her tightly and squeezed her against his chest. "I love you, too. I'll think about what you said, I promise."
She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent and relaxing into his embrace. This lie was okay, Daphne decided, because it didn't have to be a lie at all. If she went through with it, then she wasn't actually deceiving him, was she?
It would just be a… a bride-price, of sorts. Like in medieval times, a payment by the groom to the bride's family. Harry would give his blood to save her sister, and then Daphne would marry him. Willingly, and with no reservations.
"I'm so happy," she mumbled into his shirt.
Harry took a seat alongside hers, quickly pulling out his books and preparing for the lecture without a single glance her way.
"I'd started to wonder if you were going to make it," she whispered while Slughorn began to give an overview of the potion they'd be reviewing. Today was the final lecture of the term, with only one more brewing session before Yule Break.
"I need to talk to you after class," he replied in a hushed voice, while the Professor began to speak about the Scintillation Solution. There was a slight edge to his words, and Daphne leaned forward to look past him. Hermione and Ron sat a few seats down, next to each other for the first time in weeks. They both stared right back at her.
With slow, careful movements, so as to not draw too much attention, Daphne tore off the bottom third of her parchment and scribbled a message, sliding it to Harry when she finished.
Is it about what we discussed last night?
He glanced down at her message, inking his quill and quickly scratching out a reply.
Hand-fasting isn't a pureblood thing. Ron's never heard of anything like that.
Of course he'd ask Ron and Hermione! How could she have not anticipated that? Harry ripped off a section of his own parchment and passed over another message.
I'm not angry. Just confused. Don't want to rush things if there's no reason to, you know?
Shite! Should she have laid more groundwork before bringing it up? But how was she supposed to do that? No doubt as soon as class was over, Hermione would be rushing off to the library to look up every bit of information about hand-fasting. Daphne needed something concrete, something to reference besides her own supposed 'knowledge' of the custom!
While her mind worked, she penned a response.
I don't mean any offence to Ron, but - and remember, I'm not insulting him - his family are considered blood traitors. I'm not all that surprised he doesn't know about what is and isn't typical. She started to slide the note back to him, then quickly added to the end, And Hermione is muggleborn. It's not like there's a book we all read about 'how to be a proper pureblood.' These traditions are unspoken for a reason.
While Harry read her words, Daphne's gaze landed on their professor. Slughorn could sell this. He was an authoritative source, and she had zero doubt he could make it seem as perfunctory as actually holding hands. Harry respected him, liked him, even!
But he'd ask something of her, in return.
Before Harry could write a word, she pulled the note back and asked him to stay after class, to let their Potions Professor confirm her words. Harry glanced up from her note to meet her eyes and give a brief nod, and Daphne had to hold in her sigh of relief.
Seconds ticked into minutes, the lecture stretching on and on. Daphne scarcely heard a word their teacher said, trying to anticipate how to go about the coming discussion. Was it possible she could find a way to speak with Slughorn first, without Harry overhearing? 'No,' she thought, 'That would be suspicious.'
And what about his friends? Convincing three sceptics was much more challenging than just one. How could she get rid of them?
"Are there any questions?" Slughorn asked from up front.
Daphne leaned over in Harry's direction. "You should tell your friends to go on ahead. They might be uncomfortable staying for our talk."
"Alright then," Slughorn called out. "Remember to go over the brewing procedure before our next meeting!"
"Why?" Harry whispered back.
"I just think Ron might be bothered if his family's status were to come up. I don't want to upset him."
After a moment, Harry nodded his agreement and leaned back.
"Class dismissed!"
Daphne slowly gathered her belongings while Harry hurried over to where his friends sat, speaking quickly and gesturing in her direction. They peered over his shoulder at her with conflicted expressions, but obviously gave into Harry's wishes and departed with the rest of the students.
"Harry, Miss Greengrass. Did you need something from me?"
"Yes sir, we wanted to talk to you. Well, I had a question, really," Harry started, taking a step towards the professor's desk.
Daphne followed and stood just behind Harry. "Yes. Just a favour to ask, Horace." His eyebrows raised, and she sent him as significant a look as she was able.
A slow smile spread across his face. "Who am I to refuse two of my best students?"
"It's about hand-fasting, sir." Whether intentional or not, Harry taking the lead in this conversation prevented Daphne from providing any advance warning.
"Hand-fasting?" Slughorn repeated.
"Yes. What do you know about it?"
A line of sweat broke out on Daphne's forehead, her knuckles turning white as she squeezed the straps of her school bag. Slughorn's calculating gaze drifted to her face before he refocused on Harry.
"It's a precursor to engagement, of course."
Harry blinked, and Daphne moved to his side, seeing the surprise blossom on his face. "Wait- I mean, you've heard of it?"
"Yes," Slughorn said simply, then let out a laugh at Harry's expression. "It isn't employed as frequently as betrothal contracts, because hand-fasting is less matchmaking than it is match-testing."
"I don't understand."
"Sit down, sit down, please." They took a seat in the front-row desks while Slughorn leaned against his desk. "Hand-fasting fell out of fashion because it allowed too much freedom for the couple involved. For pureblood witches and wizards, it was intended as a way for a suitable couple to gauge whether or not they could be happy together. Committing to a courtship for a full year offers the opportunity to see if the relationship works in both personal and business senses."
"So, you're saying no one does it anymore?"
"Not at all!" Slughorn quickly replied. "I only meant to explain why contracts are more common. Less romance, more security, if you understand. I daresay there'd be more happy marriages in the wizarding community if hand-fasting were more common!"
"Oh." Harry looked thoughtful, sending frequent glances her way. "I- I didn't know."
"Why would you? For prominent families, marriage is too often regarded as a way of cementing alliances, trading assets. Love, unfortunately, rarely factors in very often." Slughorn sat back, his bulk shifting the desk a few inches. "Not like with your parents. Your mother was certainly my favourite, but I respected your father a great deal for choosing her over another pureblood. He was a good man."
Harry reached over, fumbling for Daphne's hand, squeezing it tightly once he found it. "Did they- my parents, were they, uh, hand-fasted?"
"The ritual can be carried out alone, so if they did, it's likely nobody knew," Daphne broke in here, and Slughorn's eyes narrowed at her for a moment at the word 'ritual'. "Thank you for talking with us, Professor."
"Of course," he said. "You're both going to attend the Christmas party, aren't you? I have several associates coming that haven't been able to attend previous events. Isn't that right, Daphne?"
There it was. The price for his support. "Is Mister… Whupple still coming? I've been looking forward to meeting him."
"Worple, my dear, Eldred Worple," Slughorn corrected, giving her a clear nod of approval. "That's right. I was thinking, though, that the party might be too distracting to have a conversation of any significance. What if the three of us were to meet with him the night before?"
"Who's Eldred Worple?" Harry asked, but Daphne just squeezed his hand.
"I'll explain later. That sounds much more convenient, Professor. This way we can enjoy the party together, right, Harry?"
"Err, right. Sure, why not?"
"Wonderful! I'm glad we had this discussion. Give me just a moment to write some tardy slips for you, I fear you're already late for your next class." Slughorn quickly wrote out excuses for each of them, pausing as he handed Daphne hers. "I'm very glad you came to me for help, Daphne. I'm always willing to do a favour for my brightest students."
She gave a weak smile, feeling shame burn its way through her stomach.
Later that night, In the midst of her lengthy trek from the kitchens to the Room of Requirement, Daphne ran across Ron and his girlfriend. Brown was giggling madly as she tugged the redhead towards a broom closet, though he slowed to a halt as he caught sight of Daphne watching them.
"'Lo, Greengrass."
"Hi, Ron."
"Give us a minute, Lav?"
Brown looked between them, scowling. "Why?"
"So I can talk to Daphne," he said, exasperation clearly audible when his girlfriend didn't move. "Well?"
"Take all the time you need!" she snarled, storming off in the direction they'd come.
"Um. Sorry?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "She's fine. Don't worry about it."
"So… what's up?"
"What are you doing with Harry? This whole, weird engagement business… what're you up to?"
She stared at him for several moments. "He told you about our discussion. Shouldn't it be obvious?"
"We're way too young to be thinking about that sort of thing."
"Are we? You know what's happening outside these walls. At least I'm honest about what I want. Harry can refuse me, if that's what he wants. But I'm not going to hide my feelings from the person I care about."
"'Hide your feelings'? What does that mean?"
She gave him a small smirk. "I guess that part was more for you than it was for me."
A blush exploded across Ron's face, clashing horribly with his red hair. "I don't know what you're trying to say."
"Okay."
Ron gave her a side-eye, scuffing his trainer on the stone floor before jamming his hands in his pockets and turning away. "Right, well, I better go find Lavender."
"Hey, Ron?" He paused. "Before, earlier this term I mean, it would've been a lot easier for me to find someone else. Someone my old friends would find appropriate, that my family would approve of. Do you know why I didn't?"
"Because you love Harry?"
"No. Well- yes, but I didn't know that at the time." She paused, wondering if she was overstepping her bounds, then decided to continue regardless. "Being with him makes me happy, yes. But… if I were to take the easy way out, it would be making other people happy by hurting him."
Ron sighed, loudly. "Great, Greengrass. Guess that makes you the noblest Slytherin of them all, then?"
She walked towards him, coming to a halt alongside him, the two facing forward in the center of the corridor. "It's probably impossible to never hurt the people you care about, but it seems an entirely different thing to intentionally do so, don't you think? Have a good night, Weasley."
He didn't follow, and she didn't hear his footsteps resume as she turned the corner and made her way to the Grand Staircase.
"Hello?"
Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office in the rear of the Hospital Wing. "Oh, Miss Greengrass. I was just about to head to dinner. Is everything alright?"
"I'm sorry for the bother, but I- well, I just finished with my classes and I needed to speak with you."
"Of course. Right this way." The mediwitch gestured for her to follow, leading Daphne to a curtained off examination area. "What seems to be the problem? Have you been hexed again?"
"No ma'am." She could feel warmth radiated from her face as she forced herself to look the older woman in the eye. "I need a dose of the potion. The contraceptive potion."
To her credit, Madam Pomfrey didn't so much as blink. "Very well. You understand that each dose is only good for five days, with partial protection for another two?"
"Yes ma'am."
"You're not being pressured to do anything you don't want to, are you? Witches have the right to say no, there's no shame in being unsure."
"I know."
"Alright, then. Give me just a moment." Daphne played with the edges of the sheets on the bed she sat upon while the mediwitch ducked out of view. "Here we are, Greengrass."
Daphne threw back the potion in a single swallow, grimacing at the taste and handing the empty vial back. "How long until it takes effect?"
Pomfrey gave her a small smile. "Not long enough that you'd need to worry. A half-hour, at most. Be careful tonight, will you?"
"I will."
That task accomplished, Daphne left the Hospital Wing and started up the stairs to get ready for the party. Harry would be stopping by the Room at seven o'clock to pick her up and take her to the dungeons, leaving her a little less than an hour to get ready. Plenty of time.
She knew just what she'd wear. A slinky, biscay green dress that hugged her hips but flared out around her thighs. Her strapless brassiere, combined with the triangular gap in the halterneck dress would create some truly eye-catching cleavage. A pair of strappy, low heels completed the outfit.
Tonight, Harry had to make a decision.
Elysant had been vociferously opposed to this plan. She claimed sacrificing Daphne's 'virtue' was needless, that the mere threat of leaving Harry if he denied her request would be enough on its own. She moaned over and over about the 'ill-repute' Daphne would bring on her family, the guarantee that allowing Harry to claim her first time would prevent her from ever finding a suitable husband. She told Daphne to wait, to save her virginity for a man she loved.
For the first time since they'd met, Daphne stunned her into silence when she told Elysant she had waited for a man she was in love with.
There were still major issues that would need sorting, even after Astoria was cured. Daphne would need to be careful, to gradually ease Harry into the truth of how they came to be. There were some things he'd likely be better off never knowing - the truth about Umbridge's fate foremost among them. But there would be time to worry about that in the future, once both Harry and Astoria were safe. She-
"Miss Greengrass."
Daphne came to a stumbling halt, so ensconced in her own thoughts she'd not even noticed her Head of House standing in front of her. "Professor Snape, sir?"
"I need you to come with me."
"What? But- why?" She'd not spoken with Snape in months; not taking Defence, combined with her abandonment of her dorm room meant their paths had no reason to cross.
"Greengrass. Come with me." His order left no room for argument, and with no other option Daphne fell into step beside him, tracing the path down to the dungeons much earlier than she'd anticipated, and with far different company.
"Did your project ever come to fruition?" he asked quietly as they exited the staircase.
"Sir?"
"For your sister. Did you get what you needed?"
His office was in sight now. "Not yet, but-"
They came to a halt outside his door, and he silenced her with a hand on her shoulder. His lips were pressed together, features pinched. "Then I'm truly sorry."
He opened the door, revealing her mother, the Lady Greengrass, waiting inside.
"Daffy," she said, cosmetics smudged and eyes swollen. Fresh tear tracks traced lines down her cheeks.
"Mum? What are you- what's happened?!"
Ava swiftly approached, wrapping Daphne up and holding her tightly. "I've come to take you home. The healers will be giving Astoria her final treatment, and she's asked for you to be there to say goodbye."
No.
No. No. No.
'This can't be happening' Daphne thought frantically, standing still as a statue while her mother cried against her. Not now, not when she was so close!
"I can't."
Ava sniffed, wiping her nose with the sleeve of robes that likely cost as much as the Weasleys earned in a month. "I don't want this, either, but it's what your sister wants. She told me-" a sob cracked through her momentary calm, and her mother cried for several seconds before she continued. "She told me she wanted to wait until you came home on the Express, but the pain is too great. It's time to say goodbye."
Her eyes were burning, and Daphne could feel tears falling, but she wasn't crying. She wasn't crying. "I can't go. Tell her to hold on, I'll be there soon. Tell her I promise I'll be there."
"Daphne, please-"
"NO!"
"Miss Greengrass…" Snape tried to interject, but Daphne pushed her mother away.
"I'm not leaving, and Astoria's not going to die!"
"You can't run from this! I know it hurts, but this is your last chance, she's not going to wake up from the potions they give her. Please, for Astoria's sake-"
Daphne pushed her mother so hard that Ava fell to the ground, and then she ran. A whispered 'tempus' displayed the time, ghostly numbers hovering in front of her as she sprinted through the corridors.
Thirty-one minutes until Harry arrived.
A/N: Long wait for this chapter. Sorry. I work a physical job, and come summer time the heat is pretty draining. A lot of days I can barely summon the energy to make dinner, much less sit down and write. No promises on when the next update will be for that reason.
This chapter goes out to KEB, a guest reviewer who has systematically read and reviewed *all* of my fics over the last few weeks. Seriously, it makes such a difference to get feedback from readers. Especially on a story like this, where several hundred people view it *per day*, and I there's barely 500 reviews. What's that about?
Thanks to everyone who reached out to make sure I am still alive. It is very much appreciated! I hope you're all having a great summer. As always,
Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles
