He was not what she was expecting him to be.

She first saw the famed Boy-Who-Lived during the sorting ceremony. He was skinny, small, and meek. This boy was not what she read about in books—he was the complete opposite.

People started whispering around her and trying to see his lightning bolt scar. It wasn't his scar that caught her attention though.

It was his eyes.

Harry Potter's eyes looked melancholic.

It took a while for the hat to sort him, but it was no surprise when he was sorted in Gryffindor. His eyes shone in relief, and Daphne wondered why that might be.


Harry had been hiding.

The petrification of students had planted fear in each student' heart, and doubly so for him, as no one else seemed to hear the voices.

He also didn't understand the treatment of other students towards him; as if he was responsible for what was going on. It escalated when Justin Finch-Fletchly got petrified, and every day, he was subjected to the judgmental stares of Hogwarts.

The staring was already bad, but the whispered conversation behind his back and the blatant accusations were worse. If it was possible, Harry would have been content staying in his dorm and never showing his face in the halls again.

I could have avoided this mess.

While waiting for Ron outside the loo, a group of students approached him. They were a group of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that Harry vaguely knew.

Honestly, he didn't know a lot of people.

He would've just ducked his head down, but one of them started pulling his wand, and Harry didn't wait for what he would do next. He ran and hid in an alcove, praying to whoever was listening that they would go away.

While hiding, he saw another student pass by him. From the looks of it, a girl from Slytherin. It only made Harry curse his luck. She must've noticed his presence since she turned around and spotted him.

It was just a glance, but their eyes connected.

Harry quickly thought of running away and looking for a new hiding spot, but he heard the group looking for him. It caused him to stiffen in his place and hold his breath, afraid that they would hear him.

"Have you seen Potter?" one of them asked.

Harry was expecting the Slytherin girl to point in his direction and join the group in tormenting him for something he didn't do.

"I haven't, but I saw someone running in that direction." Harry was not expecting that answer from her. The group immediately ran in the direction the girl pointed. He waited until he could no longer hear them before emerging from his hiding spot.

He wanted to thank the girl, but when he came out she was no longer there.

I didn't even know her name.


Hogwarts was full of surprises.

In her first year, Gryffindor had stolen their House Cup due to some 'heroic deeds.'

She was still a bit bitter about it.

Next, the petrification of students during her second year, and now an infamous criminal ran amok inside their halls.

One would think that a school filled with children would be more secure than this. The latest news of Sirius Black trying to break into the Gryffindor common room quickly spread; Malfoy wasted no time spitting about how it was a shame Black didn't get Potter.

She tried to mute him from her mind and subtly looked around the hall.

Then she saw him.

Potter had a dark look on his face-brows furrowed, and lips in a thin line. His eyes were burning with such an intensity that surprised Daphne.

When he sat down, he coincidentally chose the seat across from her, connecting their eyes. The fire in Potter's eyes dimmed, and he quickly averted his gaze.

Do I look like she was prying?

Before the end of their second year, Potter had approached her to express his gratitude for not revealing his presence to the group that was looking for him. After that, they found some moments where they talked.

Does that make us friends?

Daphne thought but shook it off her head. A few conversations did not qualify someone as a friend. Besides, she didn't even know if Potter considered her as one.

She felt like someone was looking at her, so Daphne lifted her gaze and saw it was Potter. There was this confusion in his eyes, accompanied by the ever-present melancholia—which only intensified after the dementor incidents.

For some reason, Daphne had the urge to find time to talk to Potter soon.


He was going to die.

That was the harsh reality he arrived at, peering through the tent flaps at the raging dragon. He felt absolute cold dread gripping the inside of his stomach. Every fiber in his body screamed for him to get out of there and save himself from a gruesome death.

But it was all too late when Bagman called for his name.

Harry had no choice but to walk out of the wretched arena and meet his fate. He looked around, taking in the scornful gazes and hostile chants of his peers. Amidst that, he could distinctly hear Hermione cheering for him.

That eased a bit of his nervousness. He looked around and saw Daphne in the stands which surprised him. Harry wasn't expecting to see her here—she did not enjoy events like this.

They haven't talked much about everything that was going on, with Harry hiding from everyone after being accused of cheating his way into this tournament. He wasn't even sure if she shared their belief. He could've at least tried to talk to her, right?

But I didn't.

Yet, when their eyes met, Harry saw no malice nor judgment behind them—instead, he saw worry.

When she was sure he was looking at her, her worry changed into determination. Her eyes looked like they were fueled by the flames from the goblet, and ever so slightly, she gave him a nod before breaking her gaze.

Harry turned away and continued to walk in the center of the arena. He felt a surge of strength rush through, and determination to get out of this alive.

He would not let his friends mourn him today.


It was a mess.

Daphne was having a hard time keeping herself from asking what happened. All she knew was that Umbridge was missing, Harry and some of his friends went to the Ministry, and the Dark Lord attacked them. Rumors were spreading that some Death Eaters had been apprehended and locked up.

Yet, news of Harry's well-being was nowhere to be heard.

I haven't been a good influence enough to dampen his impulsiveness.

The common room walls felt like it was closing into her with each second that passed. Rather than letting it consume her, Daphne decided to head out.

Her legs immediately brought her to the familiar clearing near the forbidden forest. It was a neat little spot that was fairly hidden and had access to a part of Black Lake. Once she stepped foot on the familiar clearing, she took a deep breath to let the cool air calm her.

It was a futile attempt, but at least here she didn't have to put on pretenses.

Then she heard someone enter the clearing.

Daphne was quick to turn her attention and immediately saw Harry. She could see the various cuts and bruises that littered his body. The urge to immediately ask what happened almost carried her away, not until she saw his eyes.

Waves of grief and sorrow washed his eyes, and it was the first time Daphne saw him in that state. His eyes were raw and bloodshot, and tear tracks filled his face. Harry's eyes met her, and she could feel that he was on the verge of collapse, that he was reaching out for her.

Without a second to waste, Daphne had already hugged Harry.


Fate was cruel.

It has always been cruel to Harry, now even more so.

Why did the fate of the world have to rely on him? Why not let others take care of it? Why must it come down to him and Voldemort for the war to end that caused Harry to lose the people that he loved?

No one ever asked him if this was what he wanted. They simply thrust the responsibility in his hand, expecting him to do it for the greater good.

To hell with the greater good!

Harry wanted to say, but he knew deep down that he could not abandon his destiny. He could not let their deaths go in vain, and he could not burden the idea of putting her in danger.

There wasn't supposed to be a farewell; he believed that it would have been easier. As his luck would have it, Hermione caught on to his plan and gave him an earful.

He deserved it.

So, here he was with his farewell to Daphne.

He couldn't look her in the eyes. If he did, Harry was sure his resolve would crumble, and if she asked him to run away with her, he would gladly accept.

It was a chance he was willing to take, and so he looked at her.

Harry should've known that Daphne was far from that type of selfishness. She knew that he had obligations he needed to fulfill and sacrifices to be made. Daphne always knew, and she always understood.

Her eyes welled with tears as she tried to convey to him the understanding, resignation, and sorrow she was feeling. She was fighting hard not to let a single tear run down her face, and her determination and affection for him managed to shine through amidst the grief she was feeling.

If this was the last time he would ever meet her, Harry hoped that his eyes managed to convey his feelings.

You only have to say the word, Daph.

Harry prayed in his mind, but she turned her eyes away from him. Harry knew it was now time to go, and if he stayed both their resolves would have crumbled. His legs felt like they were traversing high waters as he did his best to walk away and never look back.

He was about to exit the door, but Harry dared to look back at her—their eyes connected.

He felt it in his core what Daphne wanted to say.

Harry was determined to fulfill it.

I will come home to her.

a/n

Hi! First, I'd like you thank you for reading this little project that I have written. This was supposed to be published under Pott of Grass, but I decided to make it as a standalone since it felt like it would be out of place if I put it in Pott. Although this story falls under the world of Pott of Grass.

I hope you liked and enjoyed reading this! Have a great day/evening ahead!

P.S. Beta read by rsnm!