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Act II - The Warlock of Hogwarts
Chapter 16 - Daphne's Date
It was half-past seven, and Daphne was standing in front of Medea's portrait on the third floor. She had yet to knock or utter the password, even though she was all by herself. After two subsequent date cancellations, she had developed a little insecurity about her relationship with Potter. Granted, the cancellations weren't intentional β the first when he had taunted Malfoy into attacking him, and the second, because of Snape's detention, but again, he just had to provoke the man, even if it was done to keep him off her case.
On second thought, it was intentional. Did he do that to cancel on her? Or was it justβ¦.
"AARGH!" Daphne screamed. She'd probably have pulled her hair, but that would make the last two hours that she had spent doing her hair a complete waste of time. More importantly, it'd spoil her date.
"Honestly girl," said the portrait, "you look gorgeous. Don't just stand there getting cold feet."
"Easy for you to say," she muttered.
"Honestly, lass, you're just wasting time. Every second you stand there, staring at this old girl's face could be spent with your chosen one inside."
Daphne couldn't help the colour that rushed to her cheeks, or the smile that curled upon her lips. Curse that fool, and thrice-curse her for being so affected by his stupid nonsense. Really, the old days when she watched him from afar, content to glare and hate him for all the wrongs of her life, were so much better.
It took another minute for her to realise that she was just standing there, stupidly wasting time. Taking a deep breath, she looked down and began a thorough inspection of her attire. It didn't matter that she had already had Astoria perform said inspection twice, and then she had done a personal one after she had left, and a fourth right before leaving her room. The woman's suit of charcoal grey she was wearing belonged to her mother, and boasted an immaculate cut. It was a radical shift from the traditional gowns favoured by the more traditionalists, but not far enough to classify it as a mudblood robe. She had worn a bone-white V-neck beneath it; the neckline dipping just low enough to make a certain someone want to be watching if she took a deep breath. Opals set in silver flashed on either ear, glittering through an array of colours you wouldn't get without enchanting. The red hot lipstick and lacquered nails displayed a perfect balance of sensuality without coming off as too forward. Her perfume was rich and wild and sweet, like orchids.
She really hoped this would be enough.
"Trust me, girl, he'll be swooning over you."
It was easier said than done. Daphne knew such silliness was beyond her, but that realisation didn't make dealing with it any easier. Finally, in one moment of crazy Gryffindorishness, she tapped the door.
Twice.
The door opened, and she found Potter β Harry β Potter standing there, his face brightening as he saw her. He looked good. Clean-shaven, wearing a dark pair of pants and a white shirt. Daphne almost scoffed as she saw the top button undone. Nothing traditional, but with enough sense to not appear classless like a mudblood. It'd do.
He approached her, and she him. She offered him her hand, and he took it, giving it a quick kiss but not breaking eye-contact.
"Welcome," he said, "to my room."
"Harry Potter," she mused out loud. "Paying obeisance to pureblood customs. Somebody fetch a camera."
"I could call Colin," he said, "though he'd be more interested in photographing you instead."
"Harry Potter's number one fan choosing me instead of him?" Daphne asked with mock exaggeration. "How scandalous!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "I might have asked Sirius for some tips. I didn't want to screw this up after the last two times."
Daphne tilted her head slightly towards the left and smirked. "I'm⦠not too late, am I?" she asked. There was no need to tell him she was standing outside his room for fifteen minutes.
Potter gave her a knowing smile. "Not at all. Shall we begin?"
"Let's."
β¦
β¦
Daphne watched with surreal fascination as Harry dimmed the lights of his room and lit the candles. He could have done so with his wand, but did it by hand. The gesture, while unnecessary, felt oddly intimate. He had arranged for a small circular table, with a bottle of expensive firewhiskey placed upon it. He even held the chair for her, and she smiled warmly at the gesture. Pouring them a glass of firewhiskey, he casually folded his sleeves and sat across from her.
He raised a glass and paused. "Um, I have no clue what to toast this to."
Daphne giggled. "How about the first successful dinner date after two failures?"
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her sheepishly. "You know I didn't do it on purpose."
"It's still true," she said, inwardly gleeful at his fallen expression. "That said, this is shaping up to be a wonderful apology."
Harry pulled the lid off the tray before her, revealing two plates of steak and kidney pie for the main course, with roasted turkey eggs as helpings. There was also treacle tart, which she knew was Harry's favourite, as well as butterbeer fudge, which she was quite fond of. Though how Harry had known her favourites was anybody's guess. Certainly not from Pansy. Girl was more likely to curse him than share Daphne's likes and dislikes. Astoria perhaps? No. Tori would have gloated about it had it been so. She didn't want to believe that Harry had the guts to ask Joshua about her favourites.
Or maybe he did? He was a Gryffindor for a reason.
Her lips curled. Maybe she wasn't the only one that was looking forward to this dinner.
"I did not expect this," she admitted, tasting the kidney pie. "How did you arrange all of this so quickly?"
"Don't underestimate elves. Dumbledore stationed one elf for my service. The firewhiskey, I got parcelled from home. Everything else was through the kitchen elves. Once I told them what I needed, they went all crazy. Getting them to stop was the troublesome part, I tell you."
"You know where the kitchen is," she remarked, amused. "Why does that not surprise me?"
"Because you'd rather ask me how I know of the secret passage behind the snake portrait, ten steps past Snape's office."
Daphne inhaled and pushed herself forward. "You know where our common room is."
It wasn't an accusation, but a confirmation.
"I know where it is. I've even been inside. Seriously, Gryffindor tower is so much better than that dank place."
"How⦠I mean, when did you get in?"
"Err⦠in the second year. As for how⦠It's best if you don't know about it. It's not exactly, well, legal."
"Wow! The Gryffindor Golden Boy using illegal means to enter the Slytherin Common Room," she smirked. "Perhaps I should report this to Umbridge?"
"You wouldn't do that."
"And why?"
"For one, I'm cuter than her."
"Damn it, that's a fair point." She grinned.
Harry grinned back. "So tell me, did I do well as a first-timer?"
Daphne lifted her head and, in a perfect imitation of a snooty pureblood, looked down at him from the peak of her nose. "It's barely adequate, but it'll do."
Harry bowed, playing along. "I'll try to present myself better next time."
"See that you do. I've very high standards."
"Oh that you do," said Harry, taking a sip of the firewhiskey. "Honestly, I'm glad you like this. I feared this would turn out half-arsed like everything else."
Daphne took a bite of the turkey eggs and raised an eyebrow.
"You remember the Ball and dinner last year? I completely blew it."
Daphne smiled. "You went with the Patil twin. I remember. You looked completely out of place. When you weren't mooning at Chang, that is."
Harry looked disgruntled. "I'm not even sure what to call that. I mean, I had this image of Cho in my head. But ever since the term began, she's beenβ¦"
"A hag?"
He shrugged. "It's like she's emulated Fudge and made me the target of all her frustrations."
"I'm not surprised," said Daphne, taking a sip. Inwardly, she cursed herself for starting the discussion. This was her first date, and what did she do? Start conversation over his former crush.
Wonderful.
"Huh? Why is that?"
"The Changs are stuck in a strange dichotomy. They have an ancient ancestry, tracing their roots to the ancient shapeshifting creature-borns of Ancient China. Unfortunately, the Wizengamot look down on creature-bloodlines, which is why they cannot claim Ancient status, despite being magically and culturally older than half the Ancient Houses. Back in our third year, they contracted Cho to Pansy's older brother Adrian, but Cho fought her family's decision. I'm half-certain that her noticing you was back in our third year was no coincidence. But then came the Triwizard tournament and everything changed."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Cedric."
"I'm not saying that this happened, but maybe Chang saw a better offer in Cedric. I mean, you're the Boy-Who-Lived and everything, but you've spent half your years hiding behind Weasley and Granger, and the other half being a social pariah. Heir of House Potter and potential future Quidditch prospects notwithstanding, you were just⦠potential. Compared to that, Diggory was a seventh year. NEWT student. Hufflepuff valedictorian. Triwizard Champion, at least, the official one. If he had won the tournament, he'd have gotten a high-ranking job in the Ministry, or anywhere he wanted, really. His father, Amos, is well-respected in almost all pureblood circles for being a staunch traditionalist."
"What has that got to do with this?"
"Potter⦠Harry," she gathered a little courage and her hand slithered up to his fingers. "Cho was betrothed to Diggory after the Second Task."
"That which you'll sorely missβ¦" Harry murmured.
"It was literal, for her case. I know, because they invited us. It's custom to invite all Noble families to such social events. They were supposed to marry right after she passed her NEWTs. Her family was furious, because House Parkinson was offering them a far better deal."
Harry took another sip and looked away. "It's like I'm discovering a new side to this world. All of this is justβ¦"
She snorted. "You've no idea. Can you guess what happened afterwards?"
"The Third Task. Cedric died, and I blamed him for kidnapping."
"Cho's dreams crashed. She had expected to be on his side as he was awarded laurels for being the winner, and instead, he died, with the Boy-Who-Lived, and the other Champions claiming that he had kidnapped Harry Potter, and used an unforgivable and lethal spells to try murder them all. This year was supposed to be Chang's dream come true, and instead she's a sixteen-year-old mourning betrothed of a disgraced family. Just last year, she was a queen and now, she's supposed to be wearing black on formal occasions. None of the boys would approach her out of respect, if nothing else. And obviously Adrian Parkinson isn't interested in being her, or anyone's, second option. Unless she attracts a professional League scout's eye, she's destined to have her cherry popped by some geriatric pureblood."
Harry choked. Daphne blushed, realising that she had gotten a bit too casual in her word choices.
"Sorry," she quickly apologised, "that came out of nowhere."
Harry helped himself to water and coughed a bit more. "I guess I understand why she hates me."
"She isn't being fair," Daphne agreed, "and maybe she knows that. But she's frustrated and angry at herself and at how things turned out. And while there is no real reason to hate youβ"
"I'm the most convenient option."
"... Yes."
Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "This is just fucked up."
"Welcome to Nobility. It's not all formal meetings and pulling chairs and bigotry, you know."
"Yeah, it's worse. A lot worse." Harry agreed, frowning. "Well, bully for her. I will not take shit just because things didn't go to plan for her. But enough about her. Let's talk about you."
"About me?"
"Yes," said Harry, "isn't that what dates are about? Getting to know each other?"
Daphne sniggered. "You already have my hand, Potter. You don't have to get to know me first."
"I can't be interested in you personally?"
Her lips curled. "Alright. I'll bite. What do you want to know?"
"Like, what was it like for you, growing like you did? I mean, apart from you hating me for what I was and all, I can't believe a girl like you stayed single all this time."
Her eyes turned to slits. He better not insinuate what she thought he was.
"... A girl like me?"
"Well, I know many people who'd be willing to date you. Even Ron thinks you're smok⦠I mean, pretty." He fumbled, unclear about what he was saying and what he really wanted to say.
She smiled. It was not what she was expecting. "Well, being contracted to House Malfoy keeps a lot of suitors away. I mean, we did not formalise it in public, but you know Malfoy. He's got this annoying tendency to gloat. I was supposed to be on his arm in the Yule Ball, as per custom. He tried to get a little familiar, so I kicked him in his jewels. He was a gentleman during the rest of the night."
Harry snorted.
They laughed at that for a long moment and dropped the topic of former potential interests. Instead, they focussed on the dinner, which Daphne found was fantastic. The seasoning and the roasting had been top-notch, and a level higher than the usual Hogwarts meals. She decided to take Harry to some of the more posh restaurants sometime, as a return gift. And then Harry asked her about her aspirations.
"I thought I told you."
"No," he denied, "You told me what they expect of you as the Greengrass heiress. What does Daphne want?"
The smile faded from her face. "I⦠I guess I've never quite thought about it. All my life, the fear of perishing dominated my dreams and nightmares. I often had nightmares of being stuck in a loveless marriage with Malfoy, and then finding that our plans didn't end up working. That he couldn't undo the curse. I mean, Draco is part Black, part Malfoy, and not from the main line."
This time, it was Harry that touched her hand. She glanced down at his gesture, and he quickly withdrew it. Daphne cursed her luck, but said nothing. Really, what was she thinking? She had probably scared him off for the rest of the dinner.
"But now⦠I suppose if this works out, and I don't end up dying, I'd want to go professional in Quidditch. Or be a duelist. You know, take part in professional circles. Papa was against me joining the Quidditch team, but he knew I'd not back down."
"Why?" Harry asked. "Because of yourβ¦"
"Affliction. Yes," she admitted, feeling like an utter fool. First she had brought in Cho, and now she was talking about her frailty. It was like every single thing popping in her head was aimed at cursing herself in the foot. Stupidity, thy name is Daphne.
But she couldn't avoid it now. He'd think she was uncomfortable about it. He'd think she was weak.
She wasn't.
"Papa is right from his point of view," she admitted. "I've grown desensitised to the pain. It's something that has always been there, so it's easy to ignore it unless it grows too much. I suppose Papa fears what would happen if I suffered from my spasms mid-air. It could be⦠catastrophic."
Harry's face turned ashen. "Well, he's bloody right."
"Enough about me," she said. "What about you? What do you want to do?" At his laugh, she quickly realised what a faux pas it was. Unlike her, his problem would not end with a marriage and a blood ritual. His problem was real, dangerous and its name was Lord Voldemort.
Harry snorted at her expression. "In case I survive, and I want to, I'll probably try to take this Family Magic ahead. It's what I told Babbling. This power acts too much like Magic without being one. So I was hoping to use Symbology and Arithmancy to craft spells out of it."
"You want to invent an entirely different thaumaturgy, using Death instead of Magic." Daphne mumbled, looking at him in awe. It was ambitious, that much was certain. Normally, people with talent in similar fields ended up getting hired by the Department of Mysteries and became spellcrafters, but to become a craftsman of an entirely different medium, and make a new Magicβ¦
He laughed again. "I know, I know. I just don't seem like the type. Honestly, even I feel I'm way over my head with this. Sometimes I think of following in my father's footsteps and going professional. I mean, Quidditch is fun. I love it. And I've always been the centre of attention ever since I've come to Hogwarts, so I guess I've developed thicker skin. At least, if I become a Quidditch player, I'll be famous for something that I've done instead of what my parents did for me when I was a baby."
Then he recognized she was smiling, and asked, "What?"
"Nothing," said Daphne, still smiling at him. She had been right. She had made the right choice. "Nothing. Just thinking that there's even more depth in you than I imagined."
"Even more?" He asked, surprised.
She shrugged. "It's difficult to explain. You just.. You're more of a doer. You do things. Less talk and more action."
"Words aren't my strong suit," he admitted.
"You were pretty clear, just now." she smiled.
"Don't jinx it. For all I know, you'll end up hating me all over again."
Daphne winced. Harry Potter was a master at self-deprecation. She needed to get him out of it. She had seen people with less than half of his skill at magic act like they owned the world. Did he not see just what his potential was? What he was, and would be, worth in their world?
"Well, so far, you're doing a good job. I'll handle the challenges as they come."
"You'll soon regret even stalking me," said Harry with a grin, pushing his hand a little forward.
"So far, I'm really glad that Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban. I need to thank him." She replied, moving her hand ahead.
Their fingers touched.
"Whatever you do, don't send him any firewhiskey," he said, and then snorted out loud. "Actually, I take that back. Send him firewhiskey. He's a funny drunk."
Daphne giggled. "Tell me, Harry Potter, what happened to your original idea? You know, taking me on an adventure?"
"Oh that? I almost forgot about it." He stood up and offered her his hand. "Miss Greengrass, how would you like to take a tour of the Chamber of Secrets?"
Daphne beamed.
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