It was against Harry's better judgement that he did decide to attend Slughorn's Christmas party the coming week. He hadn't been looking forward to it at all and as the days drew closer he grew adamant that he wasn't going. Then, when he realised how bad it may damage his relationship with Slughorn if he didn't show he had decided at the last minute, an hour before, he was to attend.
The weekend closed in quickly and before Harry knew it he was stood on his own outside the Great Hall on the evening of the get-together. He was in a suit, which was a little too big for him as it was something he'd borrowed from Sirius, but otherwise felt he looked quite nice. The plan had been to meet Hermione and her date - whoever that was - at this time and location, but as the clock ticked on, the corridor got colder and colder around him and he decided to do the short walk to the dungeons by himself.
He walked blissfully without a date. Having only decided to come an hour earlier had left him with no time to ask anyone, though considering how things had gone with Daphne last time they spoke, he thought it best not to put himself in a worse-off situation by bringing someone else. Something that Hermione said had been lingering in his mind, though. Daphne wouldn't have a date tonight, would she? If that was the case, then he'd would definitely regret not bringing someone.
That anxiety followed him into the dungeons, where the sounds of laughter, music and loud conversation grew with each step. The Christmas party was being held in the old duelling room, the same one Slughorn used for their monthly dinner parties, so it was easy for him to navigate his way there.
"'Arry Potter?" a voice asked from the darkness.
He slowed to a stop, turned his head to the side and saw a raven-haired girl in elegant blue dress leaning against the dungeon wall. He recognised her faintly.
"Hey… Dominique, right?"
He hadn't heard any footsteps on his way down and judging by the shivers sweeping her body, she'd been there a while. Despite the fact she was obviously freezing, the girls eyes seemed to lit up at the recognition.
"Call me Dom! You are goin' to Mizter Slughorn's party, no?"
"Yeah, I am."
She smiled harder.
"You 'ave a plus one, no?"
It took a second for Hermione's words for warning to occur to him, but by the time Harry realised the situation he was in, an answer had already escaped his lips.
"I didn't bring anyone, no."
"A coïncidence!" she let out a half-cheer, half-laugh.
Dom threw herself off the wall - the energy of which caught him off guard - and she snaked her arms around his before he could resist.
"So either did I! Shall we walk together?"
It took all he could to not physically leap away from the girl, and it had nothing to do with the sudden intrusion on his personal space. Even through his suit, he could feel how cold the girl was.
How long had she been down here? Hermione said she wanted to go with him, had she been waiting down here for him?
"I don't think that's a-"
"Excellent! We shall walk together!"
Before he could offer any more resistance, the girl began to drag him. He reluctantly didn't fight and allowed himself to get swept away down the corridor.
Concern was in the foremost of his mind right now. This girl was absolutely freezing. The cold she was giving off was cutting through his suit like a tidal wave. Within seconds his entire arm was numb to her and it made him think strength of her clinging was perhaps an attempt for warmth rather than just affection.
She captured him staring at her and flashed a radiant smile back.
"You look incroyable, tonight! Iz my outfit okay?"
Harry stumbled over his words.
"You look - you are - are you... not cold?""
She gave a casual shrug and gripped his arm tighter.
"Eh little, not too much! Et'll be fine when we get into zhe party."
"Right, yeah, about that," Harry said quickly, "I really don't think it's a good idea for us to go in together. I can talk to you inside, but I just don't-"
"No, no! Et will look bad either of uz turnin' up alone!" she empathised, strengthening her grip on him again.
"Yeah, but I'm kind of seeing som-"
"Look, we are 'ere already! Let's 'ead inside and warm up!"
They followed the social noises and in no time arrived outside the door to the party, which Dom was quick to swing open. A breath of hot air hit them and he felt her melt a little on his arm.
The room was crowded already. Golden ornate lamps hung from the ceiling, which was draped in emerald, crimson and gold hangings, making it look as though they were all inside a giant tent. A team of house-elves were negotiating their way through the forest of knees, and Harry was able to instantly spot a few faces he recognised in the crowd. Light singing accompanied by what sounded like violins issued from a distant corner… it wasn't the kind of place he'd normally visit, but he maintained his positive expression.
"Hey, Harry," came a voice as soon as they entered fully.
His mind still catching up from dealing with Dom; Harry had to do a double take.
"Neville? What're you… doing?"
Neville was by the door, dressed in a scaled up outfit similar to what the houselves were wearing.
"Professor Slughorn let me work the doors. Worth it to meet Skye Parkin I figured, ey?" he smiled.
He then noticed Harry's makeshift 'date' and turned to her, bringing up a clipboard.
"Could I get your name, please?"
"Dominique Flamel," she answered.
"You're not on the lis-"
Dom snatched Harry's hand from his side and held it in her own, then brought it up for Neville to see.
"No, am 'ere as 'Arry Potters date!"
Neville gave them both a strange look then after a second, nodded.
"Oh… alright then… you guys can head in."
Harry gave a heavy sigh, finally having connected the dots.
He brought his hand roughly away from Doms, but subtly enough so that Neville didn't see.
"See you inside, Neville."
"Au revoir!"
He probably wasn't as angry as he were relieved, but both feelings were definitely present.
"I thought you said you were invited?"
"Zhe details, zhey never matter!" she brushed it off, smiling as though it were nothing. "We are 'ere now, zhat is what matters!"
"Harry, my boy!"
Slughorn, looking happier than ever, beckoned to him and then crossed the room at a startling speed for a man of his age. He grabbed his arm so tight, Harry suspected he might have been hoping it would come off, then led him purposefully into the party. Deciding between the lesser of two evils, Harry seized Dom by the arm and dragged her along with them.
With Slughorn leading through the crowd, he kept turning back to talk to them.
"Didn't tell me you would be bringing Miss Flamel as your plus one! My word, clearly a man of culture! You know, Dominique - can I call you Dominique? Yes! Well, I'm very sorry our first meeting had to be weighted down by Miss Bell's accident… Poor Katie, of course, bless her heart! I've heard she's doing better, no? Quite right! Ah, now then, I was actually hoping to invite you to some of the future Slug Club meetings, after you settled down a bit! I've never had the chance to meet a Flamel in person before and I can't think of a better place for us to get to know each other! And it seems Harry had a similar idea to me, didn't you my boy?"
"Actually, she -"
He received a hard elbow in his ribs.
"You flatter me, Mizter Slughorn!" she shouted over him.
Slughorn smiled with a certain twinkle in his eye.
"Harry has always had an eye for quality, you know! Just about the best damn Potions student I've ever had! And a powerful spell caster as well, so I've heard! Definitely couldn't go wrong with him, ay!"
Harry was elbowed hardly again, this time in the shoulder and by Slughorn.
"Thanks, Professor…"
"Ah 'ave 'eard as much myself!"
Never in his life did he imagine himself in a situation where one of his Professors was trying to act as his wing man, but he also couldn't help but smile over the ridiculous prospect as well.
"Severus Snape!"
Slughorn threw his arm out and scooped Snape out from the crowd, who looked just as shocked at his sudden arrival as Harry were.
"Why - I was just telling Mister Potter's date, Miss Flamel here, what a talented young potions-maker he was shaping up to be! Don't you agree? You taught the boy of course!"
Trapped between Slughorn's arm around his shoulder and his other-side being pushed up against Harry, Snape's eyes narrowed down at him.
"Funny, now that you mention it, Professor... Mister Potter has been in my lessons for the past five years now and I never got the impression that I taught him anything."
"Natural ability then! I should have known!" Slughorn cheered. "He takes right after his mother, he does! Say, Severus, I seem to remember you and Lily being particularly close friend back in the day! Don't you reckon he'd do her proud?"
At the arrival of Slughorn's words, Snape's eyes began burrowing in to Harry, as though he had just overhead an embarrassing secret. For Harry, the high-paced conversation had slowed down to a halt.
"You were friends with my mum?" he asked, genuinely.
Snape looked down his nose at Harry, a sneer over his face.
"Lily Evans and myself knew each other well. I'm sorry to let you down, Professor Slughorn, but pride is anything but the way I imagine she'd feel towards her son now."
Blood rushed to Harry's head, which Slughorn seemed to notice.
"Right-o! Right-o! Let's move on from that, shall we!"
He couldn't tell if Slughorn shoved Snape back into the crowd, or if he'd just left that quickly of his own accord, but Harry was grateful regardless.
"That Severus… always a kidder, ay…. My boy! Feel free to mingle as much as you'd like! I have an old student of mine, Eldred Worple, that I'd love you to meet!"
The mood was already ruined for him, however. He'd not been in the party for more than a few minutes and Snape's comment had instantly soured his night. His mission to please Slughorn was now second-only to his want to escape this situation.
Harry shook his head, feigning a smile.
"I'm going to get something to eat, actually, Professor. Dom, you want anything?"
Dominique's eye's light up at the mention of her name and she tugged again on Harry's arm.
"Ah will come with you! Au revoir, Mizter Slughorn!"
Dominique gave a wave and Harry pulled her into the crowd without a second glance back.
There was a lot of faces coming in and focus around him, most of which he recognised, but only a few he'd be able to tell you where from. There was a startling lack of Hogwarts students, however. Whether this was because a lot of them had bailed already, or there was simply that many additional guests, Harry couldn't tell, he just knew that it didn't make his situation any more bearable.
He was able to make his way to the food table without incident, dragging Dominique behind him, who seemed to almost float with child-like wonder. She was quick to snatch up a paper plate and begin shovelling the free food onto it.
"You and Mizter Snape do not like each other, no?"
His smile was a sarcastic one.
"What made you think that?"
Dominique nodded, her attention still on the food she was scoffing and talking to him like an afterthought.
"'E iz 'orrible to me in lesson, too."
Once her plate was ludicrously full she finally turned back to him. She leaned back against the table and began to eat, but not without nuzzling their shoulders together in the process.
"Nice turn out, no?"
"Look, Dom," Harry moved suddenly away from her, "You just used me to get an invite in, right? Or are you actually hoping for something? Because you should know that I am-"
"Harry!"
Annoyed at the distraction, but grateful for the familiar voice, Harry turned around. Yet to his surprise, he found nobody he recognised in sight.
His attention then drew back to Dominique, who was staring quizzically at the wall.
"Zhere iz a woman behind zhat curtain."
He squinted, struggling to make out the figure that he too now had noticed. When he did, he made a quick dash behind the curtain.
The voice had come Hermione, who was meant to have met him an hour ago, but looked to have been hiding behind the curtain for some time. She seemed distinctly dishevelled, as though she had been dragged backwards through a garden hedge.
"Hermione? What are you doing?"
"Hiding from Cormac!" she hushed him.
"Cormac McLaggan?" he repeated, revolted. "You brought him? Bloody hell did you do that for?"
"I thought he would make Ron the most jealous…" she said with a dispassionate sigh.
"Right…" he shook his head, "The same Ron you knew wasn't even invited to this?"
"I regret it enough already, you don't need to remind me of how stupid I'm being!"
Hot on his trail, Dominique joined them a second later through the curtain.
"O' are we hiding from?" she asked.
There was a beat in the air, in which Hermione's eyes narrowed in confusion and then widened out surprise. Harry looked astutely at her, annoyance written across his face.
"Oh, Hermione, this is Dominic Flamel. She's my date," he spoke with false joy.
He couldn't quite tell if the look he was getting from her was sympathy or disapproval.
"Ohh… ah..." she eased out, "How did… that… come about, then?"
"No, et is pronounced Dominique!" Dominique corrected him with pride, "Dom-ee-niche. Not Domnik."
"Dom-eeeee-nick, then!"
A shadow suddenly descended on the group and seconds later the curtain hiding them was torn back.
Snape took one look at the trio and gave a disheartened sigh.
"Oh... it's you lot."
Harry threw his arms in the air in a fed-up motion.
"Anyone else want to join!?"
Hermione shied automatically away from Snape, while Dominique seemed to move and square up against him. Snape didn't notice either of the girls, however, his glare fell solely on him.
"Now, Potter… why am I not surprised you've taken a liking to Miss Flamel? She's just about as big of a trouble maker as you are."
"Ah am not!" Dominique protested.
Snape glared at her for a moment before turning back to him.
"I seem to remember you already having a fooled girl in my house once before... You should do well to appreciate those who put up with you, more so for those who sacrifice things for you. One never does appreciate what they have before it's gone. Now stop lurking, all of you. Rejoin the party or get out."
Snape left no room for a response and vanished with a flick of his robe.
For the next moment, Harry stared at the area he had just filled. It wasn't his demeaning tone that caught him off guard, he was used to that. It was because he was trying to find where insult was in what he just said, when he failed to do that, then he tried to decipher why his words had sounded like solid advice. The last thing he needed was Snape making accusations about his love life, yet that wasn't what that struck him as.
"Did Snape just give you relationship advice?" asked Hermione, with an equal tone of confusion.
Wearily, the trio moved out from the curtain and emerged back into the party. Again, they found no friendly faces and the crowd somehow seemed larger and noisier than it was moments before.
Harry leaned to Hermione.
"Should we get a drink?"
"I'm getting out of here while I have the chance, I'm sorry, Harry. You'll have to handle this one on your own. Best of luck on -" she fiend a smile at Dominique, "- your date. If you see Cormac, do me a favour and tell him I'm dead."
"Tell him what?"
Hermione moved so fast it was as though she had disapparated; one minute she was there, the next she vanished entirely into the crowd. She was his only welcome and familiar face and she'd left him to the mercy of others. She'd get no sympathy from him in the future.
He, again, felt his plus-ones unwelcome grip on his arm.
"O, 'Arry! My friends are 'ere! Let's go!"
She took the front again and, deciding he might as well make the most of his night, Harry allowed himself to be lead back through the crowd.
Dominique seemed harmless enough, he decided. Her advances weren't anything he couldn't fight off and she certainly seemed more friendly than most of Slytherin class. He'd much rather be here with her than on his own and at the leniency of strangers conversations. Using him to get into the party, she did seem a little fraudulent at times, but he'd seen enough of her other attitude that he doubted it was through any deliberate bad intent.
Emerging out near the drinks table, he found three eyes glaring daggers at him as they approached. His heart sank as he realised just who the friends were she was leading him to.
Tracey was having fun, at least. When they'd entered she'd practically made a beeline for the drinks table. It marked a small victory for Daphne, since it meant any remaining animosity between the two had been stomped out and forgotten.
She was on the other side of things, however.
There was only so much fun one could have with half of their vision impaired and the other half constantly catching people staring. Her eyepatch had not come off in time and she was forced to wear it out tonight, completely clashing with her outfight and making her a sight to behold. If it wasn't for the fact they were out tonight treating Tracey, Daphne would have cancelled coming all together.
Nobody was talking to her and she was quickly beginning to feel like a third wheel. She checked the clock and to her annoyance, found the three of them had arrived merely two hours earlier. It felt longer than that.
"I think I just saw Myron Wagtail!" Astoria cried.
Tracey dove onto the girls shoulders.
"Don't be mad, what would the Weird Sisters be doin' here!?"
A second passed before both girls squealed loudly and clung to one another.
"Smeggin' hell, it is!"
"I'm going to ask for an autograph, that okay, Daphne?"
Only half paying attention, she waved Astoria off. Together the two girls dashed off into the crowd, leaving her on her own.
Daphne brought her wine glass up and took a long swig. The aroma that hit her nostrils was in stark contrast to the bitter taste passing between her lips.
She was a rare social drinker. Usually only to aid the conversation, but now it was through necessity. Time was dragging and she felt uncomfortable around so many people. Tracey was too misty-eyed at the atmosphere and decor to have a conversation with, while Astoria knew that many people she'd barely seen anything of her since they had arrived. Blaise had woven in and out a number of times to say hello and drop snide remarks, but he seemed to have disappeared behind the curtain with a Hufflepuff girl an hour in.
Normally she could make do and put on a happy face, but now the only attention she was getting was the negative kind and she'd already had more than enough of that in the school corridors. Finishing her glass, she immediately set about pouring herself a new one. She had no intention of getting drunk - Merlin only remembers what happened last time - but the alcohol was free and a little buzz would go a long way with her right now.
"Not here on your own are you, my dear?"
She'd zoned out into her wine glass and when she'd come to, found Horace waiting patiently by her side. She faked a smile for him.
"Actually, I am afraid my plus one is hassling one of your special guests."
Horace clapped his hands together and laughed.
"Well, not to worry, that's what they're here for! I'll pop back in a bit, I'm sure I'd love to meet the lucky chap!"
With that he was gone and Daphne was left trying to decipher his words.
Meet him…? What did he…?
Oh, that was right. They were meant to bring dates, not just friends.
Daphne was an attractive, of-age girl and the heir to her family's ancient estate; the idea of her not already being in the planning stages of her wedding was a ludicrous one. She couldn't blame Horace for assuming, not when that was the state of the reality they lived in.
In truth, the only thing that had stopped her being sold off as part of a prearranged marriage was that she was born out of wedlock, which would make her a bastard of sorts, in the eyes of some. Granted that didn't mean much when your family was a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but it interfered with the law just enough to not add another time-sensitive problem to her growing list of them. She felt bad having to let Horace down, but all things considered, not being endowed at her age was the least of her concerns. But the reminder that she was not wanted didn't exactly do wonders for her already-damaged self esteem, either.
"Yo, Daphne, check it out!"
Suddenly and rather alarmingly, a pair of breasts were pushed forward into her face. She jumped back in surprise.
"I got Myron to sign my tits!"
She snatched the sides of Tracey's shirt and pulled them closed in the centre.
"Very nice, now stop it!" she hissed.
Astoria appeared at their side, laughing.
"I can't believe you asked him!"
"I can't believe he did it! I'm gonna get this tattooed!"
"Merlin's Beard, Tracey! Cover up!"
"Oh, calm down, will you? Nobody cares, it's a party!" Tracey threw her arms up in a cheer, which Astoria joined.
Daphne grimaced at them. As she lifted her wine glass up she found it to be empty once more. She turned around to pour herself another one, only partially paying attention to her sisters.
"You should get Kirkley and Orsino to sign them as well!"
"Then I'd have the whole set… wouldn't look bad sayin' I had all three Weird Sisters at once, wouldn't?"
Daphne clenched her jaw.
"Please keep your conversation with my underage sister appropriate, thank you, Tracey."
A difficult noise came from Tracey's direction.
"Hey, Tori, you go find your mates. Gonna have a word with Daffy, I'll catch up with you."
She then reappeared in her peripheral, leaning back against the drinks table and fumbling to button up her shirt.
"What's up with you?" she asked.
"Astoria shouldn't have to listen to you talk about your perverted fantasies."
"Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, okay? Now come on, cheer up, we are at a party."
Daphne knew her mood wasn't her fault, so didn't retort her.
She finished pouring her drink and turned again, this time out to face the rest of the party.
Mentally, she was still too wounded from her recent confession to be social. Being that emotionally exposed and giving such unfiltered honesty was a first for her. She was still on the side of recovery from it. She was coping with it decent enough, but tonight's event had fallen on an awkward night for her.
It felt like lingering rain clouds had been following her wherever she went, constantly reminding her what a weak and pathetic individual she had become. It took all her strength to ignore them. She had done the right thing. Finally, after all this time, she was doing the right thing.
"Is it 'cause Harry isn't here? I know you wanted to talk to him, but I don't think he's comin', we've been here like two hours now… You shouldn't let it get you down!"
Daphne physically felt her mood take a downwards turn. She just had to mention him, didn't she?
She'd already been so on the wall about tonight - so half and half about where her intentions lay - and now Tracey had to cloud her mind further.
"It's not him that's getting me down."
"Then why are you being so mopey?"
"Everyone is staring at me!"
Tracey rolled her eyes.
"Daphne, nobody is starin' at you. You're overthinkin' it."
"I'm not! People keep sending me dirty looks because of this!" she threw a finger up at her eyepatch, to which Tracey just laughed.
"Nobody cares about that! You look sick with it, anyway! It actually suits you... frankly I was gonna make the argument you should keep it!"
Daphne gave an eye roll. Or, the best one she could manage.
"Ah, there we are, Daphne!"
A hand came to grip her arm. This time when she turned, ready to greet the voice, things took a second to steady around her. It was an instantly recognisable sensation, brought on by the alcohol.
"It's very nice to meet you Mister…"
Horace's hand came down on Tracey shoulder. As she turned around, the Professor's face dropped suddenly.
"Ahh, Miss Travis! So nice of you to join us! Are you two here ... together, then?"
Tracey seemed to move to square up to him.
"Is it a problem if we are?"
Horace's eyes widened.
"Of course not! My dear girl, whatever would make you say such a thing?! No, no! Why, one of my prized students and closest friends is Zureeal Hadley - she wears comfortable shoes as well, so to speak - we've remained in close contact over the years! Yes, I've always had a good relationship with the friends of Dorothy!"
He was talking quickly and panicking. The sight of it, tragic and somewhat humorous as it were, was enough to bring Daphne back into the room.
"Stop teasing him. Me and Tracey aren't together, Horace... We're related."
Horace looked relieved, before then pushing out his chest triumphantly.
"Well, when it comes to purebloods, you'll find relations in the latter are more common anyway!"
The joke registered after a second. Daphne smiled thinly, Tracey cheered.
"Yes, Sluggy!" she patted him on the shoulder, laughing.
Horace moved in and looked apologetically at her.
"My apologies for being so assuming, Daphne. Can you forgive an old fashioned man, such as myself?"
She didn't fight the smile coming to her lips.
"Horace, you are everything good in this world. Please, don't let it bofer you."
Daphne sucked in a deep, sobering breath.
She was very much aware how slurred the last bit of her sentence came out. Regardless, Horace looked pleased with what she'd said and with a bow, took off again into the crowd.
"We do look sick together, though. I told you the suit would go over well."
Tracey hadn't seemed to notice her hiccup, either. She nodded back at her.
"You do make a very handsome young man."
"And you're a well fit pirate!"
Daphne went to take another drink, but paused. Her glass was empty again.
Was someone stealing her alcohol from her glass? She wasn't possibly drinking this quickly, was she?
"You wanna slow down, Daffy? I have full intention of bringin' someone back to the dormitories, I could use my wing-gal sober and… what the fu…"
Her voice whimpered out and an unusually serious expression took over her face. Daphne frowned in alarm. They'd just left this party, hadn't they? What was wrong now? She turned to follow her gaze.
Daphne's face - or what of it was visible under an eyepatch - boiled into something ugly.
Harry was being lead towards them, hand-in-hand with a cheerful looking Dominique. The second their eyes locked, he turned away shamefully.
"Are yous here together?" Tracey asked abruptly and with zero cheer in her voice.
"Oui! We are here-"
Dominique had gone to take Harry's hand in her own and lift it up for display, but his wits seemed to have gotten the better of him and he viciously tore the arm away.
"We absolutely are not!" he said, definitively.
He then stuck a large and accusing finger at the girl beside him.
"She used me to get an invite in!"
Dominique, looking startled at his outburst, fell silent. She took a step backwards from him and a long, embarrassed glance around the room.
A slimey feeling, something unfamiliar to her, swept through Daphne's system. Her heart beat was slow and heavy in her chest. Of all people he could possibly turn up with, why on Dagon's name had he chosen her?!
It didn't take Dominique long to bounce back, giving out an enthusiastic smile.
"Ah like your suit!"
Tracey's eyes lit up suddenly.
"Really?"
"Oui! Et looks really good on you!"
Tracey brought her hands up to her face to hide a blush. It was then Harry apparently decided to follow his dates lead.
"You look nice, Daphne."
Daphne took a momentary, unimpressed glance at him. She fought hard to keep the fury in her veins under-wraps. She took a loud swig from her wine glass.
"I know."
He looked like he was about to begin looking for escape routes, but apparently wasn't the only one with that idea.
"Hey, I think I see Skye Parkin!" Tracey cheered suddenly, "I'm goin' to go say hello, maybe try and get a phone number!"
Daphne let out a deep, almost barbaric groan at her.
"She's a pureblood, famous Quidditch player. She isn't going to have a phone!"
"An owl address then, nobhead!" Tracey spat back.
She turned her head, her smile skipping Harry completely and falling on his date.
"Dom, come with me?"
Dominique clapped her hands together.
"O'course! Ah will be back, 'Arry!"
"Yeah, no rush!"
As two quickly vacated the vicinity, Daphne caught Tracey send one last glare back at her.
He knew exactly what Tracey was playing it. She hadn't been subtle in the slightest and he was positive Daphne had caught it too. He was grateful she was trying to help, but incredibly unhappy with the situation she had flung him into.
There were better times for him and Daphne to be left alone together. He turned back to her and to his surprise, found a beer being handed his way. Even though it was just the two of them in their proximity, it shocked him when he found Daphne on the other end of it. He took the bottle, nodding in appreciation.
"Thanks."
Daphne didn't spare him another glance, just took another swig from her own drink.
He knew he was on proverbial eggshells around her. There was a lot he wanted to say, but none of it was coming to him at the moment. He'd gotten so overwhelmed last time they'd spoke he'd exploded at her. Daphne seemed docile towards him now, he wasn't about to ruin that. He needed to start small if he ever wanted to be able to talk properly with her again.
She was wearing a black eye-patch. Harry had heard the rumours of such, but he hadn't shared a lesson with her to find out why. She didn't seem like a girl who would get injured easily, his mind began to wander about what else was the reason behind it. It was as good a place of any to start, he supposed.
"What happened to your eye?"
Daphne squinted, then let out a loud laugh.
"Oh, I'm glad you brought that up, actually!" she announced loudly, but with harshness in her voice, "I wasn't self conscious about it or anything!"
Harry stumbled with his words. Daphne was often sour, but it wasn't like her to be sarcastic.
"Sorry… you still look really good, though."
He wasn't lying, either. The dress she wore reached her chin like a turtle neck, but was short on her legs. It left little to the imagination of her figure; showing the shape of her more than modest chest and complimenting her hour-glass body. Under the eyepatch she even appeared to have gone all out with her makeup, wearing red lipstick with matching eye-liner.
Daphne didn't look back at him or make any recognition of his compliment. When she eventually did speak up, it was mostly mumbled into her drink.
"So do you."
He did a double-take, unsure if he'd heard her correctly. When he tried to meet her eye-line, she turned her body away from his, shying away. Something happened in his chest that he couldn't quite describe, he just knew it was the best he'd felt in months. When he finally realised she'd just complimented him, it took a lot to repress the smile that was breaking onto his face.
"Did you really bring Dominique as your date?" she asked quietly.
"No, no! Definitely not!" he half-shouted.
He wanted to be upfront about his feelings for her, he didn't want to leave where he stood with her unclear. Nothing was going to blur the lines of his solidarity and he certainly wasn't about to start any kind of immature love-triangle.
"We met outside and came in together - I think she was waiting for me - I've barely spoken to her! Hermione reckons she fancies me, but... I really couldn't care less."
She finally locked an eye with him.
Something wasn't right - not by a long shot. With her gaze usually came an air of power about it. She was never unsure about anything and always lead the conversation. That was the Daphne he was used to, but it wasn't the one staring back at him now.
Now she looked weak. She had defensive, puppy dog eyes. Like she'd been crying but minus the tears.
"Do you mean that?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.
Harry's stomach stirred.
Inspired by her gaze, when he spoke next it was from the deepest, most genuine part of his heart.
"She's the last person on my mind right now."
Their eye contact broke. She took another, deep gulp of her drink, unflinching. He kept his eyes firmly on her. He missed being under the scrutinising glare of the Ice Queen, but in his romanticism of it, he had forgotten quite how self conscious it made him feel.
Daphne leaned back against the drinks table as her attention wandered elsewhere.
"I don't like her very much."
He followed her eye-line through the crowd to land on Tracey and Dominique, currently in enthusiastic conversation with Skye Parkin - he was only a little bit jealous.
"I thought you guys were mates? She seems to think so."
"Her sister was one of the Beauxbaton entries for the Triwizard tournament. She got to visit as an exchange students in fourth year. We got on decently well then, but now she's just annoying. Tracey fancied her - still does - actually. Looked like she was going to cry when you two came in together..."
Harry held his breath.
"She wasn't the only one…"
He'd spoken without speaking, intending on making a joke. He didn't dare glance a look back in her direction when he could already feel the seething stare coming his way.
He quickly made to amend himself.
"I, erm, did get the impression she liked her, though. Yeah."
His foot was already long gone inside his mouth, it caused a stillness to settle in over their area of the otherwise lively room.
Reflecting on it now, when Daphne had spoken she didn't entirely sound like herself either. Her words came in heavy breaths, like she was forcing each one out and none of them had the level of certainty her voice usually came with. Whatever was the reason for her strange, more pleasant behaviour, Harry elected not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He also decided that after all that had gone on, now was the time to run with what he had.
"Hey, look… I'm sorry that we argued last party."
Daphne didn't say anything and he didn't stray a look in her direction to check her reaction. He pushed forward, determined.
"I was frustrated. I shouldn't have shouted at you, though. Forgive me?"
A loud slurping sound came from her direction.
"I already did."
Daphne's fragile expression caught him off guard more than her words had, when he looked back at her he outright felt he was talking to a different person all together.
Maintaining their eye contact, she brought her glass to her lips once again and took another drink, this time finally emptying all the remaining red liquid into her mouth and giving a satisfied gasp afterwards.
"I am... sorry, as well."
"For what?"
She suddenly turned away, but not before he caught her wincing. If he had to guess, he'd say she looked annoyed at herself.
"Doesn't matter. Sorry, I've been here for a while!" she laughed loudly, "The wines free… I'm starting to suspect drinking only ever leads me into trouble."
Harry frowned as pieces began to fall together.
"Are you drunk?"
"Yes."
The straightforwardness of her response was admirable, he respected it. More than that, he missed it.
Her being drunk explained her strange behaviour. It gave reason behind the feeble look in her eye and why she'd been so upfront with her feelings. A drunk mind speaks a sober heart, he'd once heard Hagrid say.
Despite her words, not a moment later she turned back around to the drinks table and began to refill her glass. To stop her came to Harry's mind, but another part of him said to let her be. He wasn't about to try and dictate her life, plus as of yet, he was actually getting a lot more conversation from drunk Daphne than he would do if she were sober.
"I hear you and Tracey are friends now?" she asked suddenly, returning to her position beside him.
Harry nodded.
"What she's told you?"
"That you two are friends now," she repeated.
That time it sounded like she'd spoken differently. Was he overthinking it? He was starting to second guess himself, the more he realised what progress he'd been making with her after months of trying, the more he began to doubt his own abilities to carry on the conversation as normal.
It was good, they were making progress. He didn't need his self-doubt encroaching on their conversation anymore than he needed another scar on his head.
"Is there anything else she should have told me?"
No, he wasn't overthinking it. She was definitely talking differently.
If Harry had to guess, she sounded annoyed? He couldn't even begin to imagine why, since it was a conversation that she had brought up.
"Of course not?" he frowned back at her.
Daphne gave an annoyed, drawn-out sigh and returned to her drink. First she'd seen him with Dominique and now she was asking about Tracey, was this her being jealous? That was it, wasn't it? He'd never pictured her as the jealous type before.
She'd shouted at him when he was delaying his breakup with Cho, but even then, it hadn't struck as being from a result of jealousy. Was she always secretly like this or was it just an effect of the alcohol?
"Sorry," she mumbled, sourly.
Right now she looked more angry at herself than she did him.
"Look, if you're jealous-"
"Oh - This has nothing to do with jelly, Harry!" she waved him off with a scowl and stray hand.
A few seconds ticked over before Harry deduced what had just happened. He repressed the urge to laugh.
"So… you haven't seen anyone else, then?"
She was in misery; a slave to her own mouth. The look she was giving him was distinctly one of pleadings, so he decided to put her out of her pain. He threw subtly to the wind and put it all out on the table.
"When I still like you, why would I see someone else?"
The words left his mouth with ease, but not without causing a sudden and dramatic plummeting in his stomach.
He'd never been so upfront about his own feelings before. It felt like he'd just stepped off a cliff and into the abyss below. He hated talking about the way he felt, especially when it came to sensitive issues like love or sex. Yet there wasn't a hint of hesitation in his tone and now that the words were out there in the open, he even felt faintly proud of himself.
"I still like you, too."
The words hit him like a train. He was stunned on the spot, straining to make sure he hadn't misheard them.
She suddenly turned away, Harry half expected her to make a bolt for it at that moment.
The expression of sheer terror and shock that set on her face was predictable. She looked like she was about to cry. Why did she keep saying one thing but her face said another? He knew she was drunk and she was probably saying this stuff by accident, but that didn't make any of it less true. He was thankful to be hearing this, to be having a genuine conversation with her again, but it annoyed it had to be under these circumstances.
"Daphne-" he tried.
"Stop, don't. Please, Harry."
"I'm sorr-"
"Stop. Talking."
That familiar sternness in her voice returned, but whether she'd momentarily sobered up or the Ice Queen was truly back, Harry couldn't tell.
This was good, so why was she fighting it? They were finally talking on equal grounds after months of him trying. Even if it had been only a glimpse at it, he now knew that the Daphne he'd fallen for all that time ago was still alive inside. His momentary surge of joy over this development was soon overridden with a quick panic to keep the level of intimacy going.
That feeling was cut short, however, when he felt a hand wrap around his own. His first thought was Dom had returned, but as he pulled his hand back, saw it was Daphne tugging him away from the table.
"What are you doing?"
"We're leaving."
He didn't fight it.
The two of them made their way to the other side of the room, weaving in and out of the unrecognisable faces and crossed to the same entrance he had come in from not an hour earlier. Neville was no longer at his post by the door, so it was easy for them to slip out unnoticed.
They left all that life behind them. The corridor was deserted and cold. With each step they took the sounds of music and loud talking grew quieter and quieter, and Harry began to wonder exactly where, if anywhere specific, she was leading him. They rounded a corner in the dungeons, heading deeper than he was normally familiar with. It was along this route that was the Slytherin common room, if his memory served. But they didn't take the turning for the common room, they took the opposite one, and began down a deep and depressing looking corridor.
Harry opened his mouth in protest but was cut short. A force suddenly hit him that threw the wind from his chest. It had come from nowhere, with no warning nor had he seen anything coming his way.
Recovering, he realised that force was Daphne. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and buried her face into his chest. It took him a full second of processing to realise they were in a hug.
"Daphne… ?"
"Don't…" she mumbled into his shirt, "... just… hold me, for a bit."
There was a pleading in her tone that was quite unlike anything he'd heard from her before. He'd heard a lot of things from Daphne tonight that had surprised him, but that was by far what had taken the cake. She sounded like a child.
He slowly pulled his arms around her.
It had been so long since he had been this intimate with another person. It wasn't something Ron or Hermione or even Sirius could do; Daphne holding him like this was unreal. Nostalgia and guilty memories of the year gone by swept by him, passing like they were only yesterday, yet also feeling a lifetime ago.
The seconds ticked and as her presence became ever more known to him, his grip on her tightened steadily. Soon he was holding her with a passion that rivalled hers, holding her close as she would simply vanish into nothing if he dared let go.
"I miss you."
Her words washed over him like a cool breeze. Recognition and the sweet taste of validation swept through his mind.
Absently, in an almost dream-like state, he replied.
"I miss you, too."
He was so lost in the moment that it took him far longer than it should have to decipher what the wetness forming on his chest was.
"Are you crying?"
"Yes."
Her answer was as straightforward as when he'd asked her if she was drunk. He appreciated it, but it also gave none of the much needed context he hoped would accompany it. Moments later he got his wish.
"Can I confine in you?" her voice was a hoarse whisper.
They were rather past that point by now, he answered mentally. He nodded to her.
"I need help, Harry."
"With what?"
"I can't say."
He was sober, he had the level head to understand why that was contradictory to what she just asked. Regardless, he remained silent. If after all this time she was finally about to open up, he was determined not to push. It was the first he'd seen of the real Daphne all year, at this point he was just happy to be being spoken to.
"Promise me... that you will not tell anybody..."
A shaky breath rattled from her. She sagged against him, shaking.
"I promise. With all my heart."
He knew this was the moment they'd been building up towards.
"I cannot continue to do this anymore…"
He left a second for a follow up but received none.
"Doing... what?" he repeated.
"This. All of it. I want to run away, but, no matter where I go…" her voice cracked miserably, "... I always feel like somebody is following me."
"Who is following you?"
She sniffed hard. He felt another wave of tears sink into his blazer.
"Nobody. It's me I'm trying to run from. I can't escape from being me."
He was speechless in what to say to that. Daphne's good eye was raw and red, and her face looked swollen. The girl before him seemed to be struggling with something inside herself, as though she was fighting desperately against something trying to break out of her.
Her head sank into his chest again and a shudder rattled through her body. She was crying genuinely now.
The girl he'd known to be solid as a brick had crumpled. It felt like the woman he was holding wasn't the real Daphne, but some pale imitation wearing her skin. He'd only seen her in a state like this once before, when she had ratted out the DA to Umbridge. He'd too preoccupied for it to affect him then, but it did now. For a long time he didn't know if she would talk again, if she could talk again.
"Daphne…" he tried.
She suddenly looked bolt up-right at him, locking his eyes with her blood-raw one.
"I missed you more than I ever imagined I could miss somebody! I don't know why I've got this stupid hyperfixation on you, Harry… you're just the only good thing I've ever had in my life," she tightened her grip around his waist, "I'm so sorry I pushed you away. You're the only one that likes me for me, I don't feel like I have to pretend when I'm around you."
Her words activated something inside him and his next sentence leapt from his mouth on instinct.
"That's not true, Daphne! People like you, lots of people care about you!"
She screwed up her face as though she'd tasted something revolting..
"No, that's not…" she shook her head as she struggled, "... just... shut up! Okay?"
That was more of the Daphne he knew. Even when confessing it had to be on her terms and unquestioned.
That made things worse. It meant the woman he was looking at was Daphne Greengrass. And that she'd been broken. Seeing her in this state unsettled something deep inside him. What had happened to her? What manner of unspeakable thing could change a person so fundamentally from their core?
The anger rising inside him was second only to the sadness swelling in his heart.
Harry had no intention of interrupting her further.
"I always tried to make people think good of me…" she spoke slowly, painfully, as though each word tore away a part of her.
Daphne dragged her head across his chest, looking almost like she was trying to vanish entirely inside of him.
"I pretend I'm the best because I know that I'm the worst... and now it's finally caught up to me. I've done nothing but hurt people, my father thinks I'm a disgrace and I was horrible to you! I'm the opposite of how I want to be and... a-and I don't know how I let myself drop this low!"
Her speech was slurred and often bogged down by her choked out breaths, but he had heard every word.
"I'll help you… Whatever it is, I'll help you…" he repeated blankly.
She met his eyeline again. Even through her tears he could see she suddenly had a much harder expression on now.
"Nobody can know, please, Harry," she pleaded. "Nobody can know I've told you! If you tell anyone - anyone at all, they'll find out and they'll kill me."
Harry stared at her.
What could be bad enough to make a girl like Daphne collapse? What kind of force could shatter an immovable object?
"What is it?"
Daphne didn't answer.
Instead she pulled a sleeve of her dress back. Slowly and with the same kind of deliberate care one would use while defusing a bomb, she began unravelling bandages on her arm. Round and round they went, slowly unveiling more and more skin that looked like it hadn't seen sunlight in months.
It felt like she'd been winding for ten minutes by the time the last of the bandages finally dropped to the ground.
What he saw next froze his blood.
The Dark Mark stood out prominently against her pale skin.
He couldn't look at it, not really; the true meaning behind it was too large for his mind to gather all at once. The tattoo was menacing but it was the implication that struck him deeper. Like ink in a glass of water, everything suddenly polluted in a way that would never be the same.
He couldn't fully keep the surprise off his face. The smallest twinge went through his scar.
It meant all that he had done, all that had been done to him… All the Order and the Ministry had accomplished, all of the suffering Hogwarts had endured… All the Wizarding World had gone through, after years of struggle and corruption and the death of innocents…
Had all been for nothing.
"You are a Death Eater..."
In that second, he knew the war was lost. Daphne was everything good to him. If the infectious conflict had wormed itself inside the castle and gotten to her, what was the point of anything, anymore?
When he finally looked back at her, he found her staring at the mark, white as a sheet. An uninterrupted second lingered in the air. Harry felt almost as if he was intruding on something personal between the two.
She dragged herself from her trance and pulled her dresses sleeve back down, obscuring the mark from view.
"Please, don't hate me..." her voice cracked. "They made me, I didn't want to… They want me to seduce you and bring you to them, that's what he wanted me to do. That's why I left you - I never wanted to do it!"
It was at that instant, Daphne's words shred his heart into pieces.
"You were protecting me?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
She clung desperately to him.
"Yes! I told you that I was! I was trying to… I didn't want you to hate me, but I couldn't be near you anymore! And I couldn't tell you because… because…" she threw her arms dramatically into the air all of a sudden. "Because then you'd try to help me, because that's what you do! That's what you always do! And I thought I could handle it on my own, but… but, I can't stand it anymore. I can't live like this!"
Her choice of wording made her even stop sounding like Daphne now. Her voice whimpered miserably and she brought her arms back down to swipe uselessly at the air, but he could see the power she put behind it.
"Shh, shhh, it's alright, it's alright!"
He wrenched a hand out in reassurance, which Daphne met by diving back into him. She resumed her position from earlier, shoving her face into his chest as the tears came freely from her.
"They've made me do horrible things - immoral things!"
He pulled his arms tightly around her.
The fact it was the only reassurance he could offer didn't sit well with him. He wanted to scoop her into his arms and hold her until everything was okay.
The party felt a million miles away. Dumbledore's task about Slughorn, the drama between Ron and Hermione, it was all nothing. They went over him like a passing breeze, but not this. Not Daphne. The moment his life truly started was the moment he made his first ever decision for himself and chose to start seeing her. She was his freedom; she was the saviour from the future he wanted no part in but was destined to lead. She was his and he was going to protect her.
There was not a doubt in his mind that her words were genuine. He didn't care what she had done. He didn't care about blood loyalty or social circles. Being a social outcast meant nothing to him now. She was everything good in his life and he was watching her cry. Hate and rage was swelling throughout his body. Anger at her father for not protecting her. Fury at Voldemort's ruthlessness. Hatred for Snape, so much hate for Snape... But none more so than what he felt for himself.
She was completely right in what she said. He helped people. He didn't do it because he was the Chosen One, he was the Chosen One because he helped people. Yet here she was, the one most in need of his help and she'd had to go through it all alone. He had only himself to blame. He was not going to let her down this time. He would place himself between her and her father and fight until his last breath to make sure he'd never see her in this state again.
He brought his head down to his ear and said his next words with solidarity.
"I won't let them get you, Daphne. We'll get you help, I promise. We'll go to Dumbledore - we'll go to the Order of the Phoenix."
She dragged herself away from him suddenly.
"No! Nobody can know!" she said desperately, clutching his hand.
He was used to being stronger than her, so when she tore herself from his arms with such ease it left him still on the spot. A second later, he started again.
"You tell them what you just told me - they have ways of protecting you! Voldemort will never know!"
"Stop! You can't promise that! Please, old gods, don't tell anybody, Harry!"
Her words were so loud they echoed a number of times down the abandoned corridor.
He was struck with silence.
He didn't see what else that left him with. It would be the two of them against Voldemort's entire army. He'd do everything he could but knew what their chances were on their own. She came to him wanting help, was it his failure for not seeing any other alternatives?
No, he couldn't second guess himself now. He was right, Daphne was just scared. She didn't want to take a stand against her father, that's what it was, his decision was just. Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix were the best place for her - the only place for her. He wasn't failing her by trying to pass her off onto someone else, this was him recognising were their best chances lay.
He would stick with Daphne in what was about to come, but it couldn't be as straightforward as she was asking for. She'd have to compromise as well. If she wanted help then this was their only way. Harry opened his mouth, confident in his certainty, but was cut short by another wail from Daphne.
"I'm begging you, don't tell anybody! I've given you what you asked! I've told you what happened, now please… I'm asking you not to tell anybody!"
Her teary, grief stricken eye struck another chord with him. His mind was numb with conflict. He wished he could give her everything that she was asking for, he truly did. He wanted to make her pain go away and be the one who saved her from it all. But he knew of the contractions in her words, she didn't. He could help her - he would help her - but it couldn't be in the way she was asking for.
He took Daphne into his arms again. Her expression unfathomable, she limply fell into him, neither returning the hug or fighting against it.
He was going to help her, that wasn't up for debate. Exactly how he was going to go about it, however…
Silence settled over the corridor.
Their words had been bled dry, but they remained on that spot for a long while after.
They stood as motionless as statues, clung tight to one another as though they expected to disappear any moment. They filled each others gaps and become one complete entity, reaching a feeling of limbo that neither side wanted to exit from. Time no longer existed for them and if it wasn't of the essence, then they could have held each other like that for the rest of eternity.
More time passed before they eventually broke their embrace; regrettably it was unbeknownst to both of them that the other side wanted to stay longer. When they decided to return to Slughorn's party later that night, it was as two different people to the ones' who had left it.
They had reached the shatterpoint. Everything depended on them now.
A/N Longest chapter in the series, thank you to everyone who stuck with us to this point. Would love to hear your thoughts!
