The Calm After The Storm
Chapter Three - Uncharted Pages of Connection
Daphne Greengrass had just closed the worn, leather-bound cover of "The Fellowship of the Ring," the first volume of J.R.R. Tolkien's epic masterpiece. The falling afternoon sun streamed through the windows of her cozy reading nook within her family library, casting a warm glow on her surroundings. She sat back in her plush armchair, her mind swirling with the world she had just experienced in the pages of the book.
The tale of Frodo Baggins, the One Ring, and the Fellowship had captivated her from the very beginning. Potter had been right about Tolkien's meticulous world-building and richly detailed characters that had transported her to a place she had never imagined. It was a stark departure from her usual magical reads, and she relished every moment of it.
Daphne's fingers gently traced the embossed title on the book's cover, a soft smile playing on her lips. The story of Frodo's perilous journey to Mount Doom had filled her with a sense of adventure and wonder. She thought about how Harry had recommended these books, how he had mentioned his admiration for Tolkien's passion for his work. It had drawn her even closer to the story.
As she sat there, reflecting on the epic she had just completed, Daphne felt a newfound appreciation for the power of literature. She couldn't help but see parallels between the challenges faced by Frodo and his companions and the struggles of the wizarding world during and after the Second Wizarding War.
With a sigh of contentment, Daphne placed the book on the small table beside her chair. She knew she had many more adventures to embark upon in Tolkien's world and beyond. She was eager to discuss the book with her friends, especially Susan, who had introduced her to Harry and indirectly to this captivating literary journey.
Boromir's character made the deepest impression on Daphne as she read "The Fellowship of the Ring." His ultimate sacrifice to save Merry and Pippin, as well as his willingness to acknowledge his mistakes before his death, left a profound impact on her. It instilled in her a profound sense of respect and empathy for his character. Daphne recognised that true heroism often required one to confront their own errors and seek redemption, even if it meant paying the ultimate price. Boromir's character served as a poignant reminder of the dangers of the ring of power, drawing parallels to wizarding history where noble wizards sometimes sought power to combat great evil, only to become the very threat they sought to stop. As the famous Muggle saying aptly put it, "the path to hell is paved with good intentions."
Yet, at its core, the story conveyed a message of friendship and adventure, themes that deeply resonated with Daphne. Potter had thoughtfully included two more books in the package, "The Two Towers" and "The Return of the King," which she eagerly anticipated reading next.
As she looked out of the library window, she sensed someone's presence nearby. Daphne looked up and saw her younger sister, Astoria, standing by the entrance to the library. Astoria's gaze was fixed on the book beside Daphne, her expression a mix of curiosity and surprise.
Daphne smiled warmly at her sister. "Hello, Astoria."
Astoria tore her eyes away from the book and returned the smile. "Daphne. What are you reading?"
"It's 'The Fellowship of the Ring' by J.R.R. Tolkien," Daphne replied, gently touching the book. "A friend lent it to me, and I couldn't resist diving into this classic."
Astoria's eyes sparkled with interest. "A friend lent it to you? How fascinating! What's it about?"
Daphne briefly considered how to explain a world as complex as Middle-earth to her sister. "Well, it's a story of a grand adventure, filled with hobbits, wizards, elves, and a powerful ring. The fate of their world rests on the shoulders of a group of brave individuals who form a fellowship."
Astoria's face lit up with curiosity. "That sounds incredible! Do you think your friend would let me borrow it after you're done?"
Daphne hesitated for a moment, considering Astoria's request. "I'll have to ask him if it's okay. These books are very special to him, and I want to make sure it's alright first."
Astoria nodded understandingly. "Of course, Daphne. Thank you for considering it. I hope he agrees, though. It sounds like a story I'd love to read."
"You're welcome," Daphne replied with a polite nod.
But Astoria, always the curious younger sister, couldn't let it go so easily. "Wait a minute, did you just say 'him'? Who is this mysterious man you're talking about?"
Daphne glanced at her sister, assessing the situation. She knew revealing the identity of the person who had lent her the book might lead to unexpected consequences. Astoria had a tendency to either blow things out of proportion or turn them into elaborate games.
"There is no mystery man, Astoria," Daphne said cautiously, hoping to dissuade her sister's curiosity.
But Astoria was persistent. "Then who is he?"
Daphne paused for a moment, considering her response carefully. She knew that once she revealed the name, there would be no turning back. It could lead to a whirlwind of questions, speculations, and perhaps even unnecessary drama.
"Harry Potter," she finally admitted, her voice steady.
Astoria's reaction was immediate and dramatic. She practically collapsed into a nearby chair, her face a vivid display of shock.
"Harry Potter? The Harry Potter?" she gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Daphne nodded, unable to suppress a small smile at her sister's reaction. "Yes, Astoria. The one and only."
Astoria's rapid-fire questions followed in quick succession, her curiosity and excitement getting the best of her. "How did you meet him? When did this happen? What's he like?"
Daphne chuckled at Astoria's enthusiasm. It was moments like these that reminded her of the innocence and wonder of youth.
Daphne maintained her composure, answering her sister's questions with a polite smile. "I don't know him that well, I'm afraid."
"He lent you a book!" Astoria exclaimed, her eyes still wide with amazement.
Daphne shrugged casually. "Well, I lent him one as well."
Astoria's jaw practically hit the floor, rendering her momentarily speechless. Daphne couldn't help but find her sister's reactions rather entertaining.
"You—did you propose marriage at the same time?" Astoria finally blurted out, her tone filled with playful exaggeration.
Daphne chuckled at her sister's teasing. "Don't be silly, Astoria."
Astoria leaned closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You lent one of your books, need I remind you what you did when I borrowed one without asking during my third year?"
Daphne couldn't suppress a laugh. "Fair point, but I promise you, there were no marriage proposals involved."
Astoria grinned wickedly, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, come on, Daphne! Lending a book to Harry Potter? For you, that's practically foreplay!"
Daphne's cheeks flushed crimson, and she was horrified by her sister's audacious comment. "Astoria!" She sputtered, desperately attempting to regain her composure. Daphne couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her sister's reply. "Is that what involving yourself with Malfoy has taught you?" she retorted, her tone carrying a hint of amusement.
Astoria responded with an exaggerated eye roll. "Please, just because you're a prude doesn't mean I am. And no, Draco has not taken my virtue, before you go hunting him down," she quipped with a playful grin.
"Please spare me that image, dear sister," Daphne replied with a grimace, unwilling to entertain thoughts of her sister and, worse, Draco in bed together.
Astoria leaned back into her armchair, looking contemplative. "So when will you next be speaking to Potter?" she asked, her curiosity evident. Daphne settled into her own chair, deep in thought. Potter hadn't mentioned when they would meet again. It had been four days since their last encounter in the bookshop, and she considered reaching out with a letter to let him know she had finished reading the first book.
"We didn't discuss that, actually. I should send a letter. I could ask if you can borrow the books after I'm finished," she replied. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she continued, "What do you think your dearest Draco would say about you reading Muggle books, especially those from Harry Potter?"
Astoria rolled her eyes in response. "He's not that man anymore, Daphne. I doubt he'd mind me reading a Muggle book."
"Even if it came from Potter?" Daphne pressed, and she couldn't help but notice her sister hesitated for a moment.
"That... I'm not so sure about," Astoria finally admitted, her expression growing serious. "Potter is a tricky subject for Draco."
Daphne nodded in understanding. "I bet, considering he was shown up on multiple occasions by the man."
Astoria let out a sigh. "Humiliated him more like."
"And Draco deserved every bit of it. I know you care for him, but you have to understand he has a history that's not easily forgotten," Daphne said, her voice laced with a mix of concern and frustration.
"I am aware, I am just frustrated that he allowed that side of him to come through so much. With me, he is completely different, Daphne," Astoria confided, a hint of sadness in her voice.
Daphne couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her sister. It wasn't Draco she sympathised with, though. He deserved every bit of scorn coming his way. It was Astoria who didn't deserve this.
"You can just say I bought the books; he doesn't need to know they came from Potter," Astoria suggested.
"You should really call him Harry," Daphne replied, considering the idea.
"We aren't that well-acquainted, Astoria. It would be improper," Daphne argued.
"Harry doesn't strike me as the type to be overly concerned with propriety."
"Ah, now you're calling him Harry?"
Astoria giggled. "Honestly, it's because Draco kept being so dramatic about it. How is he used to say it? 'PottAH'!" she mimicked, causing both sisters to burst into laughter.
"It's like he's in the room with us now," Daphne remarked between laughs.
Later that afternoon, as the winter sun slipped below the horizon and the early night set in, Daphne found herself seated at her desk in her room. Daphne's room exuded an air of refined elegance, just like the rest of Greengrass Manor. The walls were painted in soft and soothing shades of pale and powder blue, creating a serene atmosphere that made it the perfect sanctuary for relaxation and reflection. Large, pristine white-framed windows allowed natural light to filter in during the day, casting a warm and inviting glow across the room.
The furniture in the room was of impeccable quality, all painted in a crisp, pristine white that contrasted beautifully with the delicate blues. Her writing desk, where she currently sat, featured intricate carvings of ivy vines that added a touch of natural beauty to the otherwise understated room. On the desk, an assortment of quills, inkwells, and meticulously organised parchments were neatly arranged, showcasing her penchant for order and attention to detail.
A tall bookcase lined one wall of the room, its shelves filled with a vast collection of books, each meticulously arranged and categorised. Dusty tomes of ancient wizarding lore sat alongside contemporary novels and classic literature from both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, a testament to her love for literature.
The room was adorned with tasteful artwork and framed family portraits, and a plush, powder blue rug stretched out beneath her feet. Her bed, adorned with delicate white linens and matching blue accents, looked invitingly comfortable, a place of rest and reprieve.. Her quill glided gracefully across the fine parchment as she penned a letter addressed to one Harry Potter.
Dear Mr. Potter,
I trust this letter finds you in good health. I wish to convey my sincere appreciation for the books you graciously lent me. It was a delightful surprise to discover "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy awaiting me, and I've just completed reading the first instalment, "The Fellowship of the Ring." Your recommendation has proven to be an excellent choice, and I found the story both captivating and thought-provoking. I hope you're finding my recommendation to you equally enjoyable.
In an interesting turn of events, my sister Astoria happened upon the book and expressed a keen interest in reading it as well. Before extending the offer to her, I wanted to seek your permission, as a mark of respect for your generosity. While she may not share my profound love for literature, I believe she'd derive great pleasure from the tale. Your thoughts on this matter would be greatly appreciated.
Once again, I extend my heartfelt thanks for sharing these books with me. I eagerly anticipate the opportunity to discuss them with you when we meet next. If that is still something you'd like to do.
Wishing you a pleasant day.
Sincerely,
Daphne Greengrass
Leaning back in her chair, Daphne's eyes skimmed over the letter one more time. It had the perfect blend of formality and warmth, carefully crafted to avoid giving rise to any unwarranted rumours if it were to fall into the wrong hands. She folded the parchment meticulously and sealed it with the Greengrass family crest, using a forest green wax seal that bore the family emblem.
With the letter now neatly prepared, she left her room and made her way to the family owlery, where the Greengrass family owl awaited. Although she wasn't privy to Harry's precise address, the wizarding owls seemed to possess an uncanny ability to navigate their way to the intended recipient, guided by their innate magical senses.
…
The responding letter arrived promptly, just a day later, during a family luncheon at the Greengrass residence. The dining table was set with elegance, the Greengrass family members occupying their usual places, and an unexpected guest, Draco Malfoy, engaged in a hushed conversation with Astoria. It was amidst this refined ambiance that the family's stately owl glided gracefully and dropped an envelope onto the table, right in front of Daphne. She delicately set aside her silverware and carefully broke the ruby-red wax seal.
The letter bore the hallmark of civility and grace, as well as the signature flourish of Harry Potter. Daphne's eyes scanned the elegant script with a mixture of surprise and fascination, noting the meticulous penmanship that graced the parchment. The words that followed warmed her heart, assuaging any preconceived notions she might have held about the famous wizard.
"Dear Miss Greengrass,
I trust this letter finds you in equally good health. Your kind words and appreciation warm my heart, and I'm delighted to hear that you enjoyed reading 'The Fellowship of the Ring.' It's always a pleasure to share the magic of a good book, and your recommendation was equally intriguing.
Regarding your sister Astoria's interest in reading the trilogy, I have no objections whatsoever. In fact, I'm thrilled to hear that she's keen to explore muggle works herself. Please lend her the book, and I hope she finds it as captivating as you did.
As for our next meeting, I leave the choice of time and place to your convenience. Feel free to suggest a location, and I will gladly accommodate.
I look forward to our future discussions and encounters.
Wishing you a delightful day ahead.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter"
Potter's letter painted a picture of a man vastly different from the one Draco Malfoy's biassed ramblings had conjured during their school years. Daphne felt a tinge of shame for having let herself be influenced by those prejudiced perspectives. Potter's eloquence and genuine warmth left her with a newfound respect for him.
Astoria, ever curious, couldn't help but inquire, through her eyes betrayed more than mere innocence. "Who is the letter from, sister?"
"Astoria, it is quite rude to pry," her mother gently chastised, her refined manners taking precedence.
Daphne found herself at a crossroads, contemplating her next move. She could either keep her interactions with Potter a closely guarded secret, risking exposure the moment they met in public, or she could seize control of the situation by revealing the truth now.
"It's quite alright, Mother," Daphne decided, taking the reins of her own narrative. "The letter was from Harry Potter."
Her announcement landed like a spell, immediately silencing the room. Her mother, in the midst of reaching for a cheese cracker, dropped it in her astonishment. Her father, who had been engrossed in some parchments, looked up with his mouth slightly ajar, undoubtedly struck by the unexpected revelation. Astoria, ever the provocateur, sported a small, knowing smile that reeked of mischief. And as for Draco, his usually composed countenance was replaced by a deathly pallor, as though all the blood had drained from his face.
Daphne's announcement hung in the air, casting a peculiar spell of curiosity and astonishment over the Greengrass family dining room. As the initial shock began to subside, it was Astoria who broke the silence, her voice dripping with playful intrigue.
"Harry Potter, you say?" Astoria's eyebrows quirked upward as she leaned in a bit, her grin widening. "Well, well, sister, you've been keeping quite the secret."
Isabella Greengrass, having regained her composure, lifted her fallen cheese cracker from her plate and placed it back on the tray with a delicate air. Her expression shifted to one of maternal concern as she regarded Daphne. "Daphne, dear, how did you come to correspond with Harry Potter?"
Daphne met her mother's gaze with an air of calm, choosing her words carefully. "It happened rather serendipitously, Mother. I met Mr. Potter at Flourish and Blotts while we were both perusing books. We struck up a conversation, and it turns out he's quite a book enthusiast himself. I also took the chance to apologise for my date's behaviour.
Draco, who had been noticeably silent since Daphne's revelation, finally found his voice. His tone was polite but carried a hint of scepticism. "Harry Potter in a bookstore? Are we sure it's the same person?"
Daphne's lips curled into a wry smile. "Indeed, it is the same Harry Potter we knew from our school days. Though, I must admit, he's not quite what I expected. And definitely not what you described"
Her father, Lord Thomas Greengrass, leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. "In what way, Daphne?"
"He's far more...refined than I anticipated," Daphne replied, choosing her words diplomatically. "His manners, his choice of words—they're quite different from what I remember."
Astoria's eyes twinkled with mischief as she interjected, "And is Mr. Potter as dashing in person as he is in the papers?"
Daphne couldn't help but chuckle at her sister's teasing. "Astoria, you'll have to meet him yourself to form your own opinion. In fact, he's given me permission to lend you the book he sent me. It seems he'd be delighted to share his literary tastes with you."
Draco's demeanour had noticeably chilled; his once steely grey eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned back in his chair. "What book? Does he expect some favour in return?"
Lady Isabella Greengrass, seemingly impervious to Draco's reservations, chimed in with palpable excitement in her voice, her eyes alight with curiosity as she brushed aside Draco's comments. "Oh, Daphne, you simply must invite him here!"
Daphne gently shook her head in response to her mother's enthusiastic plea. "Mother, I barely know him. We've agreed to meet again once I've finished the books so I can return them."
Astoria, with her signature air of innocence, added her own commentary as she indulged in a bite of cheese. "But dearest sister, you've been exchanging letters with him and have even noticed that he's different from what you remembered. It seems you may know him better than you're letting on."
Draco, though still slightly sceptical, couldn't help but contribute to the conversation. "In defence of your sister, Potter is like a hippogriff in a pottery shop. If he's suddenly picked up fancy words, people are bound to take notice.
I'd advise caution, Draco," Thomas Greengrass chimed in, his voice firm and commanding. He fixed a pointed look on Draco. "Your feud with Mr. Potter is widely known, and I will not allow it to tarnish our family's reputation." His words hung in the air, carrying the weight of authority.
"Potter and I cleared the air after the war; there's no feud," Draco clarified defensively.
"Yet, you pass comments about his eloquence. It sounds like you haven't completely left it in the past," Thomas Greengrass observed, his tone unwavering.
"Father, Draco didn't mean anything by it," Astoria interjected, trying to mediate the situation. Daphne, her heart aching for her sister, decided to forge ahead.
"I'm planning to arrange a meeting with Mr. Potter in the next few days. I still have two of his books, and he's borrowed one of mine," she explained.
"You lent him a book?" her mother exclaimed in shock.
"I was just as surprised as you, Mother," Astoria chimed in, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Daphne wondered if her parents really would miss their youngest daughter if anything happened to her.
…
Arriving at the address Harry had provided, Daphne found herself standing before the charming tearoom he had described—a place that wore dual hats as both a cozy reading nook and a delightful eatery. It was a haven where patrons could relish delectable, homey dishes while immersing themselves in the tranquility of literature. Without hesitation, she entered the Rosy Apple Tearoom.
Nestled within a quiet corner of Diagon Alley, the tearoom extended a warm welcome with its beguiling ambiance. Adorning the walls were tasteful framed artworks, showcasing serene landscapes and scenes plucked straight from the pages of classic novels. Overhead, soft, warm lighting cast a gentle glow, enveloping the room in an inviting aura, coaxing guests to linger.
Each table had been thoughtfully placed amidst towering bookshelves, allowing visitors to partake in the immersive world of books while savoring their tea and treats. Crisp, cream-colored tablecloths graced the tables, complemented by delicate lace doilies that whispered of old-world charm.
Plush leather chairs, bearing intricate carvings and dressed in deep red upholstery, offered a luxurious sanctuary for patrons to unwind in. Their design exuded timeless elegance, transporting visitors to a bygone era of grace and refinement.
The tearoom was a sensory delight as the scent of freshly baked breads wafted from the kitchen, mingling harmoniously with a fragrant tapestry of tea aromas that enveloped the air. The menu boasted a delightful array of options, from savory sandwiches and scones to an assortment of sweet pastries and cakes. On each table, teapots adorned with intricate patterns awaited, housing a diverse selection of fragrant tea blends to choose from.
In the background, soft instrumental melodies played, adding to the ambiance without intruding upon conversations. The gentle hum of patrons engaged in hushed discussions or entranced by the pages of their chosen books wove a harmonious tapestry of contentment.
As Daphne stood before the mirror behind the display case, she wasn't being vain, but rather ensuring that she still looked presentable. Her choice of outfit perfectly embodied her signature style of modest elegance. She wore a knee-length, A-line dress in a soft shade of lavender, made from luxurious silk fabric. The dress featured a high neckline with a delicate lace collar, adding a touch of femininity to her ensemble.
A narrow velvet ribbon belt cinched at her waist, subtly accentuating her slender figure without drawing too much attention. The dress flowed gracefully, with the skirt gently swaying as she moved, radiating a timeless sophistication.
Her footwear consisted of low-heeled, classic leather pumps in a matching lavender hue, providing both comfort and understated elegance. Daphne's choice of accessories was minimal but tasteful—a delicate silver necklace with a small, intricately designed locket that held sentimental value and matching stud earrings.
Her blonde hair was styled in an elegant updo, with loose tendrils framing her face, and a subtle touch of makeup emphasised her natural beauty. Soft pink hues adorned her lips, and a hint of mascara highlighted her expressive eyes. She couldn't help but notice a slight rosy flush in her cheeks from the chilly air outside.
Just as she ensured everything looked acceptable, a pleasant and inviting aroma of smoked oak and apple spice filled the air around her. Just then, a voice called her name. She turned to find Harry Potter approaching with a warm smile.
Potter's attire was smart and casual, reflecting his understated style. He wore a navy v-neck jumper that added a touch of sophistication to his look, paired with well-fitted pale grey jeans. His choice of clothing was simple yet stylish, embodying a relaxed charm.
"Miss Greengrass," Harry greeted her with a respectful nod. "I am glad you could make it. I have a table around the corner if that suits?"
"Please, lead on Mr Potter," she replied politely. Harry gestured with his arm, and she followed him to a small, cosy corner of the tearoom. It was a charming nook, tucked away amidst shelves of books and offering an intimate setting. Two plush chairs flanked a small, well-lit table adorned with a lace-trimmed, cream-coloured tablecloth.
As they settled into their seats, Harry offered to take her coat, which she graciously handed over. He hung it on a nearby coat rack with a sense of attentiveness, clearly focused on making their meeting as comfortable as possible.
The soft, warm lighting overhead cast a gentle glow that bathed the room in a cosy atmosphere, perfect for quiet conversations or reading.
Potter seemed to look her over, albeit not in an unsettling way. "You look lovely today, by the way," he said kindly, his emerald eyes filled with genuine appreciation. His words made her feel both seen and respected, which was a rarity in her world.
Daphne smiled, a subtle blush tingling her cheeks, although that could well have been from the cold outside. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. Your kind words are much appreciated." She couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and anticipation as their conversation began in earnest.
"I am glad you liked my suggestion. Did you have a favorite character?" Harry asked as he perused the menu, passing one over to Daphne, who gratefully accepted.
Daphne considered the question, her finger lightly tracing the menu's offerings. "I think Samwise Gamgee. His loyalty to Frodo is deep, even to the point of leaving his home to ensure Frodo's safety," she replied.
Harry nodded in agreement. "Yes, Sam is loyalty personified. I think people underestimate how important that virtue is," he said, a small smile gracing his lips. "Tolkien actually based the character on a fellow soldier he served with in World War One. The true story is hard to corroborate, but one version suggests that this Sam recovered Tolkien's unconscious body from one of the trenches."
Daphne found the story touching, and she hoped it was true. "It's not just that," Harry continued, "but Tolkien would often be found speaking to the trees during his walks. That will make a little more sense in the second book, though," he chuckled.
"I look forward to getting some context for that," Daphne replied with a smile. She glanced at the menu, intrigued by the tearoom's offerings. "Have you been here before? If so, what would you recommend from the menu?"
Harry studied the tearoom's menu for a moment before offering some recommendations. "Well, the Rosy Apple is known for its delicious scones with clotted cream and homemade jam. They're quite popular, and for good reason. It's a classic choice if you're in the mood for something traditional."
He continued, "They also have a variety of sandwiches, and their coronation chicken sandwich is a personal favourite of mine. If you prefer something heartier, the chicken and leek pie is excellent. And, of course, you can't go wrong with their selection of teas. They have a lovely Darjeeling blend that pairs well with just about anything."
Harry looked up from the menu and smiled. "But feel free to choose whatever you'd like. The food here is always top-notch. Daphne looked at him in bewilderment, and for what felt like the hundredth time she questioned everything she knew about Harry Potter.
"Is something the matter?" he asked.
"N-no, its just I - You aren't what I expected" she admitted, trying to keep the sheepishness out of her voice.
"I can't tell if that's a compliment or a scathing indictment" he laughed nervously. She shook her head quickly and held up her hand.
"No, you must understand that in Slytherin it was difficult to find an unbiased detail on you, and then we didn't move in the same circles so my only real information on you was observations from lessons and any new articles - which should always been taken with a grain of salt" she quickly explained. "I don't know what I expected but I didn't expect - you. Sorry I am rambling" she muttered, feeling her face heat up.
If it helps, I understand that feeling. I had a similar experience the other night," Harry admitted, his tone thoughtful.
Daphne's curiosity piqued. She set her menu aside, her azure eyes fixed on him. "Oh? Do tell," she said, a gentle smile playing on her lips.
Harry leaned in slightly, his expression earnest. "Well, you see, I had certain expectations about you too, based on what little I knew. Slytherin House had a reputation for producing strong-willed witches and wizards, and you were no exception. I imagined you as someone with a sharp wit and a keen sense of ambition. I imagined you to be cold or distant. But meeting you now and seeing you in the bookshop the other day I was wrong, there is much more depth and kindness than I ever anticipated."
Daphne's cheeks warmed at his words, and a soft smile tugged at her lips. It was rare to hear such candid honesty, and she appreciated the glimpse into his thoughts. She ignored the fact that she had blushed on three occasions at his words now.
"Did you decide what you would like?" Harry asked, shaking himself.
"Oh yes, I think I shall have the Raspberry tea with the honey roasted ham sandwich" she replied, reaching into her bag to procure her money.
"No allow me, I invited you here so it is my treat" Harry spoke up when she saw her actions.
"No insist I pay for myself, it was a mutual meeting after all"
"I insist, perhaps you can buy dessert," he chuckled. "But could you imagine the headlines if people saw you pay? My reputation would be in tatters" he added with a smile.
"Very well Mr Potter" she replied warmly.
"Please, call me Harry" he spoke as he rose from his seat and disappeared around the corner to place their order. As she waited, Daphne couldn't help but notice the warmth in Harry's eyes when he smiled, and the genuine interest he had displayed in their discussion. She found herself captivated by his brief tales of Tolkien's world. Although she hadn't expected this kind of connection when she first agreed to meet him, she found herself enjoying their time together more than she had anticipated.
They said it would be about twenty minutes," he explained when he returned to their table, his tone carrying a sense of genuine interest. "I very much enjoyed your recommendation, though I confess I was not a fan of Hartley. His control of Rose is rather worrying."
Daphne nodded in agreement, her eyes locked onto Harry's as they shared a moment of literary discussion. "Hartley serves as a side antagonist," she replied, her voice soft and thoughtful. "His fear of muggles manifests in trying to control the townsfolk. His base motive is noble, as all he wants to do is protect his people, but his methods turn from heavy-handed to tragic, especially in the case of Rose."
Harry's gaze held hers, and there was a fleeting sense of connection between them. "Yes, that was a particularly low point of the book," he lamented.
Daphne offered a sympathetic smile, her admiration for him growing with each passing moment. "Not all stories have happy endings, Harry. Though I hope you enjoyed the story for what it was and I didn't depress you too much."
Harry's eyes sparkled with a mix of understanding and appreciation. "Oh, not at all. The best stories are often tragic. They resonate with people more. Life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, so those hit differently."
Daphne felt a warmth in her chest, Daphne felt a warmth in her chest as they continued their conversation, her connection with Harry deepening ever so subtly, like the gentle turn of a page in a captivating novel. "That is a very astute observation," she replied, her voice tinged with genuine admiration.
Their conversation continued, interrupted only briefly when the cafe owner came over with their food and drinks, offering a friendly smile before allowing them to immerse themselves once more in their enchanting exchange of ideas.
Amidst the cozy ambiance of the Rosy Apple tearoom, Harry asked, his voice warm and engaging, "So, what do you do for work?" He deftly spread strawberry jam over his scone, layering on a generous helping of clotted cream. Daphne had taken a dainty bite of her sandwich, delicately covering her mouth before swallowing. The rich, smoky flavors of the ham and seeded bread delighted her taste buds.
"I am training under my father in estate management," Daphne replied with an air of graceful confidence. "He owns a number of properties here in Britain and some in France, mainly involved in lending land for vineyards."
Harry, always an attentive listener, observed, "I imagine that involves a lot of administrative work at times." He took a bite from his food, his manner casual yet earnest.
Daphne nodded gracefully, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Yes, though the most challenging aspect is managing the taxes, to be honest. However, I find it enjoyable. We often get samples of the wines or products that are grown on the land." A genuine smile graced her lips as she shared this detail.
Harry chuckled, his vibrant green eyes reflecting a sense of camaraderie. "Ah, that makes up for tackling the taxman, then." His easy humour earned him another warm smile from Daphne.
As the conversation flowed, Daphne ventured to ask about Harry's career. "I know you're in the Aurors. How are you finding it? Is there anything else you wish to do?"
Harry paused, his expression thoughtful, as if considering a path not yet taken. "To be honest, I never thought much about it. I became interested in the Aurors in my fifth year. But then, to be honest, events forced me to put aside thoughts of career choices. By the end of the war, my experience and, dare I say, public expectation led me here," he confessed.
Daphne felt a small pang of sympathy for him, understanding the burden of others' expectations all too well. She spoke softly, "I'm sorry."
Harry raised an eyebrow, his gaze locking onto hers, his eyes filled with genuine curiosity. "What for?"
"That your life was decided for you," Daphne replied with sincerity. "I'm ashamed to say that a lot of people assumed your path was easy because of your fame."
Harry offered a reassuring smile. "It's alright. I learned long ago that people will make up their minds, even if the evidence contradicts them. Truth be told, I sleep better at night with each Snatcher or Death Eater we capture.
Daphne gazed thoughtfully at Harry, her azure eyes fixed on him. "Do you ever think about yourself, Harry?"
Harry's brow furrowed slightly, the lines of thought etched onto his face. "What makes you think I don't?"
"You're still in Britain, for one," Daphne pointed out, her voice gentle but probing. "You fought the Dark Lord when you'd be forgiven for running. Even after how the wizarding world treated you? And even now, you put yourself in harm's way."
"Britain is my home," Harry replied, a warm chuckle escaping his lips. "The geography didn't offend me." He leaned in slightly, his voice earnest. "And if I ran, he wouldn't have stopped. My friends, people I consider family, would be at risk. And when people don't stand against evil, are we any better than it?"
Daphne couldn't help but smile at his words. Harry was being modest about it, but most would've run in his position. Truthfully, she was thankful he didn't. The thought of what life would've been like under the Dark Lord's rule was too harrowing to contemplate.
She nodded in appreciation of his answer, her admiration for him growing. "You didn't answer me about what you'd like to do one day."
Harry's emerald eyes held a glimmer of mystery. "Once I know what that is, I assure you, I will tell you.
Their conversation flowed smoothly, diving into topics ranging from their favourite books to fond childhood memories. As time passed, Daphne realised she was thoroughly enjoying herself in Harry's company. He was kind, thoughtful, and surprisingly easy to talk to, breaking down the preconceived notions she'd held about him.
Soft instrumental music played in the background, and the gentle hum of other patrons engrossed in their own conversations enveloped them like a warm blanket.
When their meal came to an end, Harry leaned forward and checked his watch. "It seems we've been here for quite a while, I am unfortunately due at another engagement soon" he remarked, a hint of regret in his voice. "I hope you've enjoyed our meal, Daphne and hope you will enjoy the other two books."
She smiled warmly in response. "I've had a lovely time, Harry. Thank you for inviting me here."
As they prepared to leave, Harry stood up and helped Daphne with her coat,holding out the arms so that she could easily slip into the warm material. With his assistance, she felt a sense of chivalry and thoughtfulness emanating from him, qualities that were rather refreshing.
Exiting the charming tearoom, the duo offered their gratitude to the attentive staff. The brisk air of Diagon Alley welcomed them, and a sudden chill made Daphne shiver involuntarily.
"Would you like to borrow my scarf?" Harry's considerate offer warmed her heart.
"Oh no, you don't have to do that! I'll be home shortly," Daphne replied, hesitant to accept his offer.
"Regardless, I insist," he insisted, his smile as warm as the scarf he was about to lend her. He began to remove his scarf, a piece of clothing designed more for utility than fashion, and that familiar warmth she had felt during their lunchtime conversation resurfaced within her chest. Harry hesitated for a moment, seemingly debating whether to hand her the scarf or gently place it around her neck. "I think I'll let you put it on, everyone does it differently after all."
"Thank you," she replied, accepting the soft, woollen fabric from Harry. Her fingers briefly brushed against his, which were surprisingly warm and velvety to the touch.
"Just return it whenever you're finished with the books," he added with a casual grace. She smiled and wrapped the scarf around her neck, relishing the scent of oak and spiced apple that lingered on the fabric.
"I will, and thank you for a wonderful afternoon," she managed, offering him her sincere gratitude. Harry responded with a nod, and she didn't dwell on her words any further as she apparated back home.
…
End of Chapter
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