chapter 8 of Dance of fates Ladies and Gentlemen

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XOXOXOXOXOXO

Daphne's weekend lacked any pleasantness. After her little dare to heal her husband, her own body was affected as a result. She tried to walk around but tiredness took over her.

Tracey had always been her favourite Slytherin and had it been up to Daphne, the kind-hearted witch probably would have gotten into Hufflepuff instead. She kept bringing food to Daphne every time without her asking her to do so, but the latter couldn't take one bite of it.

Her room was empty save for herself: Tracey had a little kinky date somewhere and her other two roommates were probably gossip-hunting out there. It was lunchtime so she was all by herself with the small plate of food in front of her when all of a sudden, an elf appeared in her bed.

He looked around and asked her if she was Daphne Greengrass. She assured him it was her; he jumped from happiness, then gave a respectful bow, "My honour to meet you, Missy, my name is Dobby—" then he came closer to her and whispered, "Mr great Harry Potter asked me to hand you this and told me to tell you missy 'Please forgive me.' He handed her a sealed letter and popped off, leaving her blinking, 'Wait, what?'

She looked down to the letter in her hands. Harry had written to her and asked for forgiveness? She quickly endeavoured to open it, wondering what it comprised.

Harry didn't sleep at all after what had happened last night. First his detention with Umbridge, then his meeting with Daphne—he kept replaying the events of the previous night over and over in his head. He looked down at his hand where the letters had been. She had tried—No! she had helped him—but he'd rejected her instinctively; of course, he had.

He couldn't trust anyone easily anymore and it was hard with everything that was going on but she was his wife, his wife for god's sake, the girl he had put his cloak on last July, swearing to protect her. She was trying to do the same for him, to keep her promise.

'What I said that night... I meant it' had been her last words she had said in a wounded voice. She had declared she'd be always on his side. He felt guilt build up in him, shame—both.

He had run after her to plead for a second chance, only to find her falling to the ground. He was the cause. She didn't admit it but he knew it was because of him that she had almost fainted—he felt it in his bones, his heart, his soul.

And not seeing her during breakfast or lunch made things worse. He searched his marauder map for her: she was in her room. He was relieved but still worried. As he was walking with his friends to the quidditch pitch, he saw Dobby cleaning in the corridor when an idea popped up. He excused himself and went to Dobby to ask the latter for a favour and Dobby, of course, exclaimed in happiness that the great Harry Potter could always bank on him. Harry hushed him not to attract attention and asked him to meet him in his room in an hour. Then, Harry ran to his room and started, as fast as he could, writing a letter.

'Dear W

Are you alright pl-' "No, no...fine, just give it a shout, damn!" he rubbed his messy hair. This felt awkward.

After a second and third and fourth attempt, he had finally written his letter and Dobby appeared in his room. He asked him to deliver it in secret, and with that, Dobby popped off.

Harry went to the quidditch and sat with Hermione, who was cheering Ron on. Now all he had to do was wait in patience.

Hermione tried to ask what was wrong with him but he kept changing the subject every time. Now wasn't the time for his friend's meddling.

Daphne opened the letter in a hurry. Her heart skipped a beat and her face was burning red—he wrote to her with apologies! She took a deep breath and started reading.

'Dearest W,

Hope and wish to the moon and the stars with all my heart for you to be okay. Not seeing you this morning nor during lunch worried me to death.

In light of our previous encounter, I pray for forgiveness from you. I know it was my fault but I apologise for it. Words can only explain half of my thoughts.

Although what I have done may have disappointed you, and shame is filling my soul, the truth is...

Ever since July all I kept thinking about was you and those words you said, and I don't doubt them for a second.

Wanting to know more about the girl who stood by my side in that scary old church,

Your H'

She smiled widely at the letter like a child who had just received a reply from Santa. Her Gryffindor lion had tried his best to write this letter, and she could feel it as she was holding it.

She brought the letter to her chest. No one was inquiring after her anymore, she had thought for months, but now her husband was, worried about her. She went to the desk, took out a piece of parchment, and started composing a reply. She then called Dobby and asked him to bring it to Harry.

Harry wrote a second letter to Sirius and went the Owlery to send it. By the evening, he found himself dragged to a party the twins had organised for their little brother. After a quiet celebration between Harry's friends, in honour of Ron and his success, Harry felt tired and excused himself off to bed. Once he had changed and was about to turn in, he found a letter on the pillow with his name on it.

'To H

That was quite a satisfying letter to read.

I was amused by its contents and delighted as well. Your worries make it an honour for me to be your W and even more. I am fine and you do not need to worry, a little rest should be enough.

I told you there was no need to apologise for something I did and I won't blame you for distrusting me. I would have done the same if I were you, or maybe even worse.

Thank you for your letter and thank you for coming to my rescue back then—what a Gryffindor lion you are.

Yours,

W'

He lay back on his bed with one hand covering his eyes and a smile on his face. This girl—no, this woman, 'lady Potter'—what was she doing to him. He hid the letter in his trunk. How did she do it? With a few words, she had managed to turn him into a mess. Neither Hermione nor Ginny nor Cho did that to him so how did she do it? This was just the first week of the year and all this had happened.

On the morrow, Daphne was feeling much better and was the first to wake up before the others. After a shower, which she took to feel fresh, she went for a walk in the corridors of this mysterious magical castle, humming. Somehow, she was overjoyed—a simple letter meant everything to her.

She felt something brush against her ankles. She looked down to see Ms Norris weave in and out between her feet; Daphne giggled and bent down to pick up the cat and started petting her back as she walked on. "I'm fine, Ms Norris, a little fever, nothing serious," she said as she petted her.

The cat leaned into her hands, enjoying the feeling.

Daphne had never been allowed to have a pet on the grounds of it being potentially dangerous for her and her health. She had always wanted one, however, and envied her siblings, who owned one. A stream of rhythmic memories flooded in; she remembered her mother's familiar and guardian—it was a gift from the Japanese minister to her, she'd told her once, a nine-tailed beautiful white fox named Kou. She always played with him in the gardens of their palace but after moving in with the Greengrasses, she was forbidden from keeping a pet. Sure, Kou had been no pet, but he had loved guarding her mother and her. She had played with his many tails, which were her favourite thing, and as much as it annoyed him, he had always let her do it. She had loved to tease him.

"Oh Kou..." She missed him so much. She wondered always if he would visit her in her sleep—she knew deep down that he was always looking after her. 'Just say my name and I will be at your feet,' his seductive manly wicked voice had said to her when she left. When she got into Hogwarts, almost everyone had a familiar, and one day she had found Ms Norris without Filch around and started playing with her. Ever since that day, the two had become friends. She sighed, lost in the sea of her memory, with a sad smile when Ms Norris yawned at her.

"What? You don't want to walk with me to the forest, how sad," she said to the cat, who jumped out of her arms to the stone floor, strutting away. She giggled at that. "Okay, have a safe trip to Filch, see you later," she waved to the cat and looked in the Forest's direction…

The forest she hadn't visited yet as it had been quite busy the first week. Should she go? 'No, maybe next time,' so she headed to the Great Hall.

Finding just a few people in there was great, and she could eat in silence. As she was having breakfast and reading Daily Prophet, everything in the latter was the same, nothing new: 'Sirius Black', 'mass murder', blah blah blah, 'Azkaban for traitors' blah blah, a few commercials... nothing new. She put down the paper and kept eating; she hadn't eaten at all the previous day.

Someone was approaching her. When she looked up, Harry was walking in without his friends around. He looked her in the eye and a big smile crossed his face; she felt the heat rise within her. She nodded, muttering a 'good morning', and he muttered back with a smile. He sat at his table across her to be able to see her.

She looked to the side, shy. 'Why am I being shy?' She licked her lips and looked up. He was having his breakfast, looking at the paper. His hair was as messy as ever and his glasses were slipping down his nose. 'Stop staring...you'll like a stalker,' she said to herself. ' Oh but I can't help it, he looks so cute, I wonder how he looks in his PJ's…' she was talking to herself at this point, drooling at him. 'Blimey, girl, get hold of yourself!'—'I'm trying but he looks handsome!'—'Well, he's your husband.'—'Husband!?' The thoughts turned her fully red and she buried her face in her hands.

Harry looked up at her. He was confused: she was burying her head in her hands? 'What's wrong!?'

In the commodious chamber, all the curtains were closed. A young man was sleeping in a large king bed. The door of the chamber opened widely and a woman entered through it, sniffing at the air in disgust: the room smelt of wine and sweat. She ordered her minions to open the windows and clean up the mess in the room as she walked across it to the bed. She coughed a few times in a high pitch with anger.

The ladies who were sleeping in the bed woke up shocked. She motioned with her head as a sign for them to leave and the ladies, who were barely wearing their gowns, ran out of the room in embarrassment. The woman yelled, "Get up, you drunk!"

The young man woke up, trying to sit up with annoyance. He raked his fingers through his golden hair with one eye opened. "Honestly, could you wake me up any gentler," he said without looking at her. He got up, stark naked, and walked across the room. The woman turned her back to him, giving him privacy. "If you start acting like a real King... I may try to," she said, moving to one of the chairs in the large chamber and letting the servants clean up the room and serve breakfast on the balcony.

After some time, the young guy walked out in fresh clothes and sat down, taking bites of his breakfast as the lady sat across him. After a long silence, she spoke up, "Honestly, it's time you wound up the celebration and started working, or your followers will start questioning your authority and abilities. It took us years before we could get you crowned... You have no idea how tiring it was waiting all these years… I heard from the council that there are rumours of some Dark Lord's return to Britain... Don't let everything we've been working on go to waste," she said, narrowing her eyes.

The guy looked up at the woman, who sat gracefully on the chair with her golden hair all tied up in a braided bun and the most expensive Scarlet fabrics hugging her body. "But it was me who won in the end, mother," he said in a cold tone.

"Even though Eros is dead, his whore sister is still breathing out there," she said as her jaw clenched.

"That whore you're talking about is also my sister."

"Phobos!" his mother exclaimed with a flushed face.

He raised his hand to silence her. He looked sharply at her with dangerous eyes and was about to reply when a servant came forward, bowing to them, waiting for a sign to talk.

"Your majesty… Queen Aurelia… Ambassador of Egypt has arrived, he is waiting for your Excellency in the throne room," the servant said to Phobos and left.

Phobos stood up and left the balcony, leaving his mother there muted.

Aurelia turned her head to the garden. 'Rhaenys, wherever you are, it will be I who will bring you down,' she vowed.

Sirius was counting the hours so that he could floo-call Harry. He was worried about his godson after his last letter: the latter was in a pit of questions and needed answers. At 2 am, he called Harry.

After the long day, Harry was waiting by the fire for Sirius's call. Sirius was literally the only person who understood him; they were in the same situation, as matter of a fact… but Sirius was a wanted man while he was free.

'Harry— Harry," Sirius called amidst the flames of fire for his godson.

Harry answered eagerly, "Pads! How are you?"

"I'm fine, Son. How are you?"

Harry shrugged.

"—so she is a mysterious person to you?" Sirius asked.

"I'm not saying she is mysterious, it's just...I don't know how to say it, I—"

"Your fear is normal, pretty normal, in fact. Look, you're a teenager and you found yourself suddenly bound into duty… you'll work it out," Sirius said, smiling.

"You look brighter than usual?" Harry wondered with a smirk. Sirius blushed at the compliment and brushed it off, changing the subject.

Ron came, followed by Hermione, and greeted Sirius. After some conversation had passed between the four, Harry asked if Umbridge was involved with the Death Eaters but Sirius denied it, wished them goodnight, and winked good luck to his son.

The next two weeks were neither bad nor good. Harry avoided Umbridge's wrath, working on Daphne's advice. He kept studying most of his free time in the library. Leaving the quidditch team sure was hard for him—he loved quidditch, and flying on a broom let him forget the whole world, but the game wouldn't help in the upcoming war. The ministry was after anyone who helped Dumbledore and put them into Azkaban on charges of treason. He tried to get in favour even of Professor Snape, who kept giving him suspicious looks. Umbridge, on the other hand, was keeping a close eye on him, waiting for any slipup that would allow her to welcome him back to her detentions, and continued to interfere with the other teachers' classes, grilling and interrogating them. As for Daphne, they only passed each other when both were surrounded by their housemates. Each time, they looked at each other for a second and nodded.

Hermione tried to extract the truth out of him and he finally gave in and told her about his detention with the old hag. "This is unacceptable, you need to tell Professor McGonagall or Dumbledore y—"

"Hermione, no! Dumbledore has enough on his plate, I won't bother him, okay?" he said the last word firmly. "End of story," he finished, walking out of the room and leaving Hermione and Ron there. The latter kept quiet: he knew about the scars but didn't dare to ask his friend; he decided to give him space and was sure that when Harry felt ready, he would come back.

Hermione sat next to Ron. "We need to do something about his anger, he's doing it again," she said, looking at Ron and waiting for a reply.

"Mione, what do you expect me to say? He doesn't want to attract any more attention. Put yourself in his shoes, he's in a pickle. Let's give him more time," he said calmly as he looked toward the exit. Ron of all people knew how hard it was for Harry to keep the facade while he barely got any sleep. He feigned cluelessness but he had figured, since the first day of this year, why Harry loved to sleep alone. When they had been in Grimmauld, the bloke was having nightmares every night and suffered from lack of sleep, and Hogwarts wasn't making it any easier for him. 'Merlin be with him,' he sighed, wished Hermione good night, and left.

Daphne spent her days as usual. Between her lessons, essays, and lurking in the forest or playing with Ms Norris, she saw Harry only at the shared lessons, such as DADA or potions. Snape was still giving her potions; however, one night, he said out of the blue, "You need to stop taking them before you become addicted to Greengrass."

Daphne looked at him from her chair in his office. "Professor, it helps me get going, I can't stop, not now."

Snape's mouth snapped shut as he stood up from his chair behind the desk and went to his personal room and then back to her to give her a small box full of pills.

"This may be a good replacement, I've been working on it. Take one every three days and you'll be fine… Now go," he said in the same tone.

But Daphne heard differently. She smiled at him. "Thank you," she whispered and Snape nodded back at her wordlessly and left the office.

She walked through the dungeons back to her dorm, happy. 'I will never forget this professor,' she vowed to pay back her debt to her teacher one day. The pills, potions kept her relaxed all the time; she'd been taking them for four years now. Four years... she stopped and looked at the tiny wooden box.

"What is this, father?" she had asked Cyrus Greengrass on one of the sunny summer days at the manor, looking at the glass bottle in her hand, filled with a red liquor.

"This, child, is 'the potion of Artemis.' It will keep your magic stable and you won't lose control over it again," Cyrus answered.

She shrugged off the memory and walked on to the dorm.

The next DADA lessons were getting good for Harry, then it turned to the worst.

He was late for the class and as he entered the classroom, Umbridge looked at him with a wide smile that reached her ears—she'd been waiting for a mistake like this for a week now. 'Great,' he muttered. All the seats were already taken so he sat in the back of the class without even looking around. "Hi," a voice whispered. He looked to his side for a second, then turned his attention to the blackboard. "Hello," he whispered back, smiling.

"Late, aren't we?" Daphne smiled from behind her book cover.

"Pray for good luck for me, Daffy!" He whined, brushing his messy hair.

Daphne wanted to laugh; she covered her mouth with her hand and leaned down. hiding her face behind the book.

They hadn't spoken ever since the letter exchange, only shared looks. Harry looked from the corner of his eye and smirked.

"Careful, my prayers always go wrong," she clasped her hands together in a 'prayer', closing her eyes.

Harry wanted nothing but to laugh so hard. She looked at him with a smile.

"Are we good?" Harry asked.

"Have we had a row? "Daphne replied in an innocent voice.

He looked at her, smiling "No, we have not."

They kept talking quietly to each other for some time behind their books.

"Miss Granger! I am going to take five points from the Gryffindor House," Umbridge said in her girlish pitch.

There was an outbreak of muttering at this. "What for?" said Harry angrily in the back.

"Don't you get involved!" Daphne pleaded urgently to him. He tried not to look at her right now, focusing on the tiny evil in front of him.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions," said Umbridge smoothly.

"I am not disrupting it. I'm making a point, there is a difference," Hermione said coldly, daring to look the woman in her face.

Umbridge went redder and was about to explode. She was about to give Hermione detention—Harry knew that look very well. Daphne grasped him from by his hand, forcing him to sit down. "Harry, don't!"

"I'm sorry, Daph, I won't let her do it to..." Harry said, sparks of rage in his eyes

She parted her lips and her eyes got wider—shocked, worried, scared...

"Harry, please, if you do it... I won't heal you this time," she said bitterly.

He smiled at her and shook his hand out of her grip. "No, I will not let you either," he said, half-smiling at her. He turned to face the ugly old tart as his smile faded.

Daphne's lips set in a hard line.

"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher," said Harry loudly, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

This pronouncement was followed by one of the loudest silences Harry had ever heard.

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr Potter," said Umbridge sleekly.

Hermione turned in shock to Harry, who sat quietly in his seat.

Daphne closed her eyes in defeat and turned away from him. 'Idiot, idiot, idiot,' she kept repeating the word in her head. She'd told him not to do it—no she, she had begged him—but he did it anyway for his friend, he saved Granger from the pain of dark torture. She really needed to stop this madness. She felt his hand on hers, squeezing it gently. She turned to him: he was not looking at her but kept squeezing her hand. 'Oh, Harry!'.she turned her hand so that their fingers intertwined. Comforting him was all she could do now.

Harry kept his hand tangled with hers. He had fucked it up again and now he would have to face the witch tête-à-tête in a few hours. He looked for a shelter: his wife was there for him and although this time, he couldn't hide his dread behind his mask of bravery, the gentle touch of his wife soothed him.

She gave him a piece of parchment before leaving the class, and it read, 'First floor girls' lavatory at eleven'

The pain was killing him this time and it was much worse than last time.

McGonagall took points from him as well.

Daphne was so angry that she pushed Pansy to a wall for bitching around. Tracey was pale out of fear after witnessing Daphne's temper: she never played on her nerves...

"Daffy? Why are you angry?" Tracey asked, shivering.

"Who?" Daphne asked bluntly.

"Emm, y-you," Tracey said, pointing at her, "you almost broke Pansy's nose."

She sat on the sofa, crossing her legs, one hand rubbing her temple while the other one squeezed into a fist. 'Umbridge...' An unpleasant and heavy sensation settled in her heart; this woman needed to be stopped.

'You swore you wouldn't play this game again!' Her inner self emerged.

'For Harry, I will,' she replied back...

The rest of the day went by in a blur, and Harry found himself in the girl's bathroom.

It had been years now since the last time he was here in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He remembered Lockheart, Tom Riddle's diary, the Basilisk, and the chamber of secrets. He entered silently. Daphne was sitting by the sink on the floor, reading some book, and a long silky mint-coloured dress with butterfly sleeves was hugging her body.

He smiled faintly to her but she didn't feel his presence as she swam in the words of her book.

She looked up from her book to him and smiled nothing but a sweet smile. Suddenly, she was frowning. 'Why was she frowning?' Harry wondered.

He found himself in her arms—she was holding him. His legs got weaker out of the blue.

She laid him on the old stones of the castle and put his head on her lap between her hands.

"I don't see Myrtle here," he said with a question in his tone, looking up at her.

"She found a quiet entertainment in the perfect bathroom, she said innocently.

When she'd entered the bathroom earlier, Myrtle had tried to mock the hell out of her and since she was in a rage, she had almost cast a summoning spell and sent Myrtle to hell but she'd tamped down her temper and instead whispered something about some nasty couple in the bathroom of the perfects to her...

"An entertainment, huh?" Harry asked, smirking.

"Well, Draco and Pansy should have been more secretive about their affair," she giggled back at him as she was rubbing in slow circles her index and middle fingers on the sides of his temples.

A soft groan came out of him. He felt embarrassed but she hushed him, saying, "Don't be shy with me."

"Thank you," he said softly, closing his eyes. The moonlight was filling the bathroom.

"This brings back memories," he said softly, lifting his left arm high in the air.

"Memories?"

"Yeah, back in the second year, Ron, Hermione, and I used to hang out here," he said, laughing at the weirdness of his past adventures with his friends.

Daphne felt a bit of relief when she heard him laugh. 'Good, he still has his spirit.' She knew he was under a lot of stress: three weeks of observation had let her understand him fairly enough. She preferred to listen to him rather than talk with him; he wanted someone to see him as him.

"Please, try not to get involved with that woman, she thrives off of tormenting you. I want to heal y—" she said, still massaging his head.

"NO! Last time you almost fainted! And it'll buff out in a week anyway," he said, agonised.

"Fine, but I have to do something to at least ease your pain," she said, peeved, and stopped massaging him, crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this—" he said, drifting her out of her thoughts.

She exhaled loudly enough for him to hear and looked down at him. Harry parted his lips, searching for more words.

Daphne bit her lower lip and pressed her both hands to his cheeks.

They kept gazing at each other. His eyes were red—obviously, from the lack of sleep, Daphne thought.

"I also dragged you into a mess—" she paused and huffed softly without moving her hands nor her eyes away from him, seriousness lurking in depths of her icy eyes. "—besides, any bloke who is ready to sacrifice himself for the sake of his comrades is a man, to me," said with a smile on her lips as she brushed few hairs from his eyes.

He awed at her confession. Her eyes were burning him down. He brushed his hand on top of hers and moved his head a bit and kissed the side of her hand in a soothing gesture, putting all his feelings in that kiss.

She felt enchanted by his gentle yet strong kiss; his lips on her skin set her body on fire. Daphne felt nor heard anything else around.

Harry felt swallowed by her, overwhelmed as he kissed her hand as a way of thanking her, admiring her. She didn't ask nor demand anything from him, just offering. Had God or Merlin sent her to him to stand by his side and comfort him, be his light?

Daphne saw nothing in him but a man looking for freedom—just like her.

The moment his lips left her hand, she felt a wave of coldness hitting her. She licked her lips and inhaled deeply, leaning down to him...

Harry's eyes flashed open when he felt soft lips on his. Daphne was kissing him; she poured out into him the full opulence of a proud recognition.

He had felt her lips on his only once, when they had shared that kiss in July, sealing their marriage's vows with it. This time, it wasn't an obligatory kiss, though. She was about to pull away but he didn't want to end it yet. He pulled himself up, kissing her back, putting his hand on her cheek. Her lips tasted as sweet lemon cake.

Daphne felt her inner self burn with desire and passion. His kissing her back had her heart going wild in her chest. His lips were rough yet soft and warm.

He pulled away. She opened her eyes in surprise: she didn't want him to end it either but instead, found him fixing his sitting position. She was breathing heavily, their eyes sparkling with lust.

He looked at her, feeling desirous of more. 'Hell with it,' he said as he leaned forward, cupping her cheek and taking her lips in his. He pulled her closed to him, as if afraid that she might slip away. Her hands on his chest felt a heartbeat that wasn't hers. She was no longer alone; she was his and he was hers. This kiss spoke of valour and hope…

Except for the pearly moon, no one witnessed their moment...

Well, we did witness their private moment

and Daphne's lovely family finally made a scene

How things between Harry and Daphne will become?

we will see next chapter

See ya ciao

XOXOXOXO