𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖊

Act II - The Warlock of Hogwarts

Chapter 30 - Break Point

Harry stood in the shower, soaking up the heat, letting the water course all over him. He had bruised himself a little below the wrist, and in his left calf, probably during his attempt to save Daphne and also direct the Thunderbolt The scar would probably take a little longer to heal, but that was fine. The purplish red to angry pink. His wrist wasn't giving him much trouble, but he'd have to remember to take it slow for the remainder of the day. The Harry Potter before the summer would have ignored it, but Sirius had taught him that grooming was important for keeping one's spirits up. A well-kept body for a well-kept mind and all that.

Harry wasn't a fool. He knew he wasn't at flying level lately. Between his work in the Chamber, his time at the workshop, attending classes and Snape's detentions, while also maintaining an hour of constant spellcasting for every single day was taking a toll on him. Umbridge's constant messing with things because of her endless paranoia, the lack of news about Remus Lupin and Hagrid, Daphne's malediction, and now Malfoy, all of it was barely letting him a moment of peace. His morale needed all the boost it could get.

The sound of a wind chime blowing alerted him.

According to Unfogging The Future, wind chimes were tools used to attract peace, harmony and good luck. Andromeda Tonks didn't believe in all that crap, but she did acknowledge that wind chimes had a way of enhancing the positive energy in the room. Harry, in a twisted caricature of that statement, had gotten a proximity ward installed in his room, which would activate, and warn him with the sound of a wind chime rustling in the wind, should an unexpected visitor break into his premises.

Freezing, Harry let the shower stay on. After what had happened with the match, there was no doubt that there were more than a couple of angry Gryffindors that probably wanted to give him a piece of their mind. Both Ron and Hermione knew his password, and given how Ron was prone to acting when angry, the chances of him blurting the password to others was not unexpected.

It was why he had the other wards installed.

And if that intruder wanted to attack him, seeing him switch the shower off would make them alert.

Silently, Harry slipped in his wand holster, his wand sitting snugly in it, and bound it on his right arm. He put on the Potter and Black rings next. If needed, he could use them as foci to cast certain specific spells. Only then did he start putting his towel on.

Slowly, he let the bathroom door open, his wand spinning into his palm, and the stunning hex ready at his lips. Nothing came out from the shadows shooting spells at him, which was good.

Harry exhaled. At this rate, he'd be channelling Mad-Eye Moody soon. For all he knew, it was Ron or Hermione.

Shutting the shower finally, he stepped out of the bathroom, and slowly moved towards the living room. He cast a quick look at his 'training ground', followed by the living room, but found no one. Then he turned to the bedroom and found his intruder.

Fleur Delacour lay on the bed, her hair fanned out around her like rivers of molten silver on the red linen, offering a stark contrast. Her creamy legs scythed tantalisingly as a simple white blanket hid her torso.

"Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "I let myself in."

"Yeah," he said, eyeing her and everything she was offering. "I can see that."

Fleur gave him a sultry look. "Like what you see?"

He did. He very much did.

"I certainly don't mind the view," he said, his eyes dragging along her slender arms, the top of her exposed shoulders and the inviting look in her eyes, before his iron will snapped him back into place. "But I'm wondering what you're doing here, in the middle of the day, in my room."

"You 'ad a bad day at the match," said Fleur airily, her french accent in full force. "I saw 'ow you broke your wrist and that… fils de salope caught the snitch. I knew you'd be sad so I came to make you feel better."

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Make me feel better?"

Really, it was like subtlety wasn't even a thing anymore.

"Oui." She tilted her head and stared at him quizzically. "What's wrong? I thought you'd have gotten used to this."

"There's no way anyone could get used to someone like you, Fleur. Especially like that."

Fleur giggled. "Thank you very much, 'Arry, but even I'm more available these days than you are. Most of the evenings you're away from your room doing Merlin-knows-what. Even in the workshop, the others command your attention."

He arched an eyebrow.

"I'm not complaining. I knew what I was getting myself into, but you can't blame me for capitalising on every opportunity."

"Right," Harry drawled. "Capitalising on every opportunity. Like how I gave up the snitch to save Daphne? For all I know, my team thinks I'm a traitor now? You thought I'd be mad at her and this'd be your way to get ahead?"

Her expression cracked.

Harry glared at her. "Yeah, and all of this obviously has nothing to do with you being pissed at me declaring my engagement out in the newspaper. Isn't it?"

Fleur at least had the decency to look bashful.

"Seriously, it's like everyone thinks I exchanged brains for brawn," Harry muttered.

"Well, you are a Gryffindor."

He sighed. "Look, Fleur, I know you're irritated. But I've already got a hundred and twenty other things that are making my life a mess right now. I don't need you to spark a cold war between yourself and Daphne."

Fleur snorted, and sat back up. Harry could see that she was wearing the silver bra and panties he had gifted her on her birthday recently. She probably had come in thinking of giving him a surprise and seeing where things flowed from there. Instead he exploded at her.

Damn it. Snape was right. His emotional control was all over the place.

"Are you really going to walk away from a weak, defenceless woman? Even if she's practically throwing herself at you?"

"I'm not sure if she realises the meaning of what she's throwing at me," said Harry. "Also, weak and defenceless? You? Seriously?"

Fleur smirked. "What can I say? Damsels in distress are your weakness, my 'Arry."

"You do not want to indulge me as I am right now." said Harry, the finality in his tone ending any further retorts. He turned around to leave,and right then, Fleur made a mistake. She got out of bed, and grabbed his shoulder.

Harry spun back, grasped her wrist in a steely grip, and pushed her onto the bed. His eyes burned with emerald flames as he loomed over her. Fleur's mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth hitting teeth and she looked like she was seeing him for the first time.

"...'Arry?" She breathed out, her face flushing. "You…"

"I'm not in the mood, Fleur," he said in a low growl.

He wasn't joking. She could see it in his eyes. She could hear it in his voice. She'd soon understand exactly why ticking a sleeping dragon was a bad idea. The rage within him was no longer burning hot, instead it burned cold and deep, like a blizzard. He was furious at Draco Malfoy, but it wasn't even remotely comparable to the rage he felt at himself. The only real difference was that where anybody else would have frozen with mind-numbing terror, Fleur moaned with mind-melting desire. He could feel her breath coming in short gasps and her chest heaving strongly.

"Well…" she murmured slyly, licking her lips. "If you're really that irritated with me, why don't you take this moment to properly ensure I learn my lesson?"

Harry blinked and looked at her.

Her expression was innocent and bland. "All I'm saying is that it's an idea."

"Fleur…" Harry said, feeling his face get a little warm.

"Oui, 'Arry?"

"I just showered."

"That's good, you're all freshened up."

Harry snorted. "You're incorrigible."

"I'm a wicked French veela. It's part of who I am."

"So it would seem," he grunted, and let her go. Fleur landed on the bed, and Harry shed the towel off.

….

….

"What's on your mind, 'Arry?"

Harry looked down at the gloriously dishevelled and satisfied form of Fleur Delacour draped all over him. He tried to speak but caught his breath. His natural immunity to the Allure aside, he had the stamina of a normal human. Or a normal wizard, if there was a difference in the first place. He never had anyone from the muggle world to draw a fair comparison, and Dudley Dursley wasn't exactly a ladies's man.

With him feeling like a thundercloud, he had been on top for the culminations they had had. And there were many of those culminations. For both sides. But sometime during their heated interactions, Fleur had had enough of being on the receiving end, and decided that she wanted to do her part. Which was how he had landed on the bed, with one hand in her hair, and the other entwined with hers.

"Just… thinking," he muttered.

"About what?"

"Do you remember what I told you about my first year here? About the mirror of Erised?"

Fleur rose up and rested her chin on his chest. "It showed your heart's deepest desire. What of it?"

"Well.. back then I saw my family in the mirror. Mum, dad, and…"

"Shadows," Fleur finished for him. "You mentioned that in your birthday speech."

Harry furrowed his temples. "I did?"

She nodded. "You said that you now know what those shadows meant after all this time."

He pursed his lips. "The thing is, Fleur, even back at the birthday party, I only had a superficial understanding of things. Sirius had taken me in, and made me a Black. I got an aunt in Andi. I had met Joshua and Daphne and you and most importantly, I had just got clear of the trial. I could breathe properly. I felt like I was finally starting something. A new life, a new path, new futures…."

She touched his cheek. "What's wrong, 'Arry?"

"What do you mean?"

"I can tell something's wrong, and it's not about losing the game to Malfoy. I mean, look at you. Ignoring a naked veela lying above you, moping, talking in circles… it's not like you."

"No," said Harry. "Perhaps it isn't." He exhaled. "Back then, things were so… simple. And incomplete. It was all about the trial, you know. And that made things simpler. I knew the Greengrass family and while Joshua and Daphne were both likeable and supportive, I didn't exactly know where I stood with everyone after the trail. Sirius was my godfather and everything he had done was aimed at helping me out with the trial. Even you, I mean, we were friends and I knew you liked me, but I didn't know if that even meant anything. Even us meeting and discussing the Potter fortune was all geared towards the trial. Merlin, I'm making a mess of things, aren't I?"

Fleur said nothing.

"Back then, all I had was just one thought. Get myself out of the trial. Walk out as a free man. But it wasn't as satisfying as I had expected. And in the middle of all of that, I found family, I found friends, I found… you, and Daphne. I thought I had gotten everything I wanted in life. And yet…"

"Here you are, moping and brooding like an old man."

Harry scoffed, irritated at her constant interruption.

"Sorry," Fleur murmured. "Please continue."

"You see, until all this time, I had a purpose. A quest. I never had a family and now that I had found it, I felt… Let down. Disappointed. Empty." He met her eyes. "Does that make sense?"

"I was so sure that when I had found the family I always wanted, I'd feel good. Dumbledore told me that the man who looked in the mirror and saw just himself on the other side would be the happiest man in the world. So I thought if I had the family I wanted more than anything else, I'd be there. I'd be that man." said Harry. "But I don't. In some ways, I felt even worse than when I had started. I felt like… nothing."

He paused.

"There," he grunted. "You asked. I answered."

"Hm…." said Fleur, slowly raising a hand. She leaned it towards his face and…

Flick!

"Oww!" Harry yelped, holding his abused nose. "Bloody hell! What was that for?"

She pushed herself up and straddled him. Harry tried to speak but Fleur put a finger against his lips. "No, you just listen. I'm only saying zis once so you better pay attention."

Harry nodded.

"You, are utterly, the dumbest, the stupidest excuse for a guy, you know that? Feeling sorry because your little quest to find family is over, and you haven't got the balls to find yourself a new one? Zeriously?"

"I did try. What do you think the workshop is? Training with Snape, that's another. Preparing myself for being the Lord Potter, and so on. I thought it'd feel better, but instead, I feel like I'm still stuck at… crossroads."

"Crossroads?" Fleur frowned. "You mean between me and 'er?"

Harry shook her head, pulling her tighter against himself. "It's not like that. Back in the summer, you were the one person I could share my darkest secrets with. Daphne was the girl I wanted to save. Somewhere along the line, the roles got reversed. Daphne became someone that taught me what it meant to be strong, while I saw you at your worst. At your darkest. And I knew I had to save you. I thought maybe if I could do that, then there was some hope for me too."

"Zen?"

"I'm just… angry. All this time, I thought I felt empty. But in the last month, I've studied my feelings. Introspected. And I've understood that I don't feel empty because of the relationships, this family, this… everything we share. I feel empty because I'm afraid that's gonna be my reality."

"'Arry—"

Harry shook his head, pushing himself off her. "It's just… sometimes it's difficult. Like back then in my first defence class. I was sitting with Ron and Hermione and Umbridge made me just so… I almost lost control. I thought I was finally getting used to it, I — I thought I could master it, but Umbridge…" he fisted his hands, "she just gets on my nerves. All my control goes out of the door and I have all those dark desires inside me wanting to claw out. I — I wonder if I should just show her what real demons look like. I want to grab her fucking face and pour a little death inside her, make her feel her magic deplete, feel her organs rot while she…"

He was shaking now.

Fleur touched his shoulder, and instantly pulled away.

"C—cold!" She grunted. "'Arry, this — this is Death acting out, isn't it?"

Harry gave her a slow grunt and looked away.

"Why haven't you mentioned this in the workshop?"

"It never came up."

Fleur scowled. "'Arry —"

"You've no idea how many times I've barely held back. And everytime it happens, I can't help but think that maybe Lucius Malfoy was right all along. Maybe Kreacher had the right name for me. Demon. Maybe I'm a danger that should be locked away. And then there's Daphne, and there's you…"

"I've never feared you, 'Arry," she began.

"No, you haven't," he admitted. "And neither has Daphne. And that, in a way… scares me. On the one hand, you — both of you, make me feel complete. Sirius… he just got his life back, and he's already thrown himself back into the political cesspit for me. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, any of you. On the other hand, I fear someday I'll lose control and something might happen. Frankly, for a time I considered walking away from your lives. Maybe learn the Fidelius charm and vanish for good."

"And why's that?" She demanded. "What good would that do?"

Harry considered just repeating himself, but Fleur deserved a little more than just that.

"It's not that I'd like doing that," he said, trying to find the best way to explain his train of thought, to reveal what he really felt inside, but it was hard. He hadn't generally had reason to explain himself too much in the past, all things considered. Daphne did not pry, choosing to observe and draw her own conclusions. And Fleur seemed content to let him speak his feelings out at leisure, a trait she shared with Sirius.

"I just… I guess I would have to satisfy myself knowing that I've done everything I could for those I care for. By keeping you away, I'd keep the risk of something happening to you because of my Death-powers at minimum. And maybe that's what I was aiming for, subconsciously. I mean if our workshop succeeds, then not only will you get your mastery on Death magic warding, you'd probably be able to minimise the allure and lead a normal life. And if we can succeed in our newest experiment, Daphne will be cured. Sirius… he's in a relationship with Amelia. He'd have his own family, like he deserves."

"And you?" Fleur demanded, the first stirrings of annoyance slipping in her tone.

"Me?" Harry muttered wistfully. "I guess if everything becomes a success, then I'd have accomplished something. And then there is Voldemort, and there's no saying when he'll come for me, and if I'll manage to survive it next time. If nothing else, you and Daphne will have a future."

"And somehow that's supposed to make me feel better?" She snarled. "That leaving you to your fate would make me feel better in the black and twisted heart I have?"

"It's better than being the one that kills you!" He yelled back.

"And who're you to make that call?" Fleur shot back, grabbing his shoulders and shaking them. "What makes you think you can just enter into my life, make me fall in love with you, and then do this?"

"I have to, if the alternative is to watch others use you to get to me! You've no idea what it was like, watching Malfoy hurl that bludger at Daphne. That moment, I didn't care if he did that to catch the snitch, or even to distract me. What I saw was him recognizing that I'd do anything for Daphne, and he attacked her, just to make me react."

"'Arry, that was a one-time —"

"It bloody isn't," Harry growled, shaking. "Malfoy is just a schoolyard bully, and he could've killed Daphne today. Imagine what Umbridge, or worse, Voldemort would do to her, to you? That man's an insane psychopath, and there's nothing he'll stop at if it means hurting me. I've finally gained the family I've sought all this time, and I'm bloody not about to become the reason for your deaths."

He didn't look away. He didn't flinch, retreat or look guilty. He just shook his head. "No, if I were Voldemort, I'd have waited until the Ministry's all but weakened Hogwarts. And then I'd swoop down and take everything in a single strike. I reckon that's exactly what Voldemort will do. Which means I have… maybe a year, maybe less, before that happens. We need to get the workshop to succeed by then. If that happens, at least I can fight knowing that I've succeeded in saving you and Daphne."

Harry smiled. He did really mean it. He really was prepared to throw away everything soon, and the worst part was that he wasn't even doing it for himself and didn't care in the slightest.

"What happened to you, 'Arry?" asked Fleur sadly. "Where is that guy that wanted to make sure he wasn't the last Potter? What happened to the guy that just wanted to survive and have nothing to do with the Triwizard?"

He smiled again. "I guess that guy died in the cemetery, Fleur. I was hit by the killing curse after all. It's… not something I've talked about to anyone yet."

"Like what?" asked Fleur, her voice very soft.

Harry's voice was solemn and grim when he replied after a moment's silence. "I'm… different, darker, and powerful. My spells are more powerful, my parseltongue amplified, and using Death energy is now second-nature to me. And it's so intertwined with me, that I cannot go back to my old self even if I wanted to."

"'Arry, you haven't changed —" began Fleur only to be cut off again.

"I have," said Harry. "I'm more cynical, more selfish. The old me was far quicker to react. Me? I can shut my responses down, only to react far more ruthlessly than I could have imagined doing. It's like… like I'm actually experiencing my brain working differently. All the time I'm in public, I keep analysing people, events, reactions, situations… the old me would have filtered it all out and focused on his tunnel vision. Now I just sit and figure out all the angles, and laugh at my previous method of approach, and then move forward only when there's a way to win."

He met her eyes. "I've seen it in the people around me. Ron tried to get me to act like the old me at times, and he really does try, but even he can see that I've grown distant. Hermione plainly accuses me of changing. It's no surprise that I put them on edge. Maybe they are confused, or scared. And I can't blame them."

"And Daphne? What about her?"

"Daphne is… innocent," he said, after careful consideration. "Unlike me, she can be cured. She isn't a vessel, or being hunted down by a madman. All her life she's suffered because of this curse, believing I was the Greengrass vessel. But as I understand Death even more, it feels like I was born for this. To destroy foul existences like this blood curse. To allow people like you a choice to live and enjoy life. To end this monster known as Voldemort."

"And you? What happens to Harry Potter?"

He gave her that smile again. "In the event that I manage to kill Voldemort, I suppose I have a chance at life. With you. With Daphne. At least until Death's vessel throws new curve balls at me. But I'm done waiting, playing it safe. Dumbledore told me to lay low. Sirius tells me to wait. But it won't work that way. Umbridge keeps trying to get a rise at me, and I just might have shown her that my friends are a good target. Malfoy is going to keep coming. Cho, Minister Fudge, The Prophet, Skeeter… it's like everyone wants a demon so bad that they'll press me until I give in."

Fleur just listened to him raptly.

"Back in my first year, Voldemort told me something. He said, there's no good nor evil, only power and those too weak to seek it. Before this summer, I'd have denied it. Rejected it. Now? I find myself agreeing with it."

"You do?" asked Fleur cautiously.

Harry suppressed the urge to snort at her. "The Wizarding world is a place where might makes right, Fleur. The purists are in control, and they shape the public opinion. Right and Wrong do not have any place in this world, only laws do, and these laws are put in place by the people in power. If those people go, if those laws go, then new laws can be put in place, and a new version of right and wrong will be implemented. Dumbledore, for all his brilliance and power, did not bring about this change. Sirius told me that the Albus Dumbledore in the Grindelwald war was a force to be reckoned with. A man that led armies of dark witches and wizards to waste with a flick of his wand. But something about the war changed him, and turned him into this… shell of a human being he once was. He could have had all the power. He could have become the Minister of Magic and led this country through a new revolution, changed things for the muggleborns, the half-bloods and creature-borns like you. But he didn't. He just… went back to teaching."

"Iz that a bad thing?" asked Fleur. "Rejecting the power?"

He snorted. "You're asking me that? Wouldn't your father have done the same?"

"Papa is a diplomat. And more importantly, he doesn't have the kind of power Albus Dumbledore has."

Harry had to concede to that.

"What's going on in that 'ead, 'Arry Potter? What are you scheming?"

Harry pulled her tighter against him. "I'm going to make changes, Fleur. I tried to seek refuge in seclusion, but obviously that isn't happening. So now onwards, I'll seek it in audacity. The Ministry painted me as someone unhinged, someone everyone should fear. I'm gonna take that fear and make it so big that even the entire Ministry's going to look small before it."

Fleur swallowed.

"Sirius told me that he and Joshua and Madam Bones are pushing for changes. It's difficult but they're making progress. But even now, Sirius thinks that until Voldemort makes a public appearance, things won't change much."

He snorted, disdain in his voice. "Bollocks. Voldemort will only make an appearance when he's ready. And when he does, it'd already be too late. Fudge would have compromised the Ministry, and Lucius Malfoy would serve the country to Voldemort on a silver platter. Honestly, Fleur, the more I think about it, the more I realise that there's only one reason why Sirius and Joshua have gotten ahead with what they have."

"The death of those thirteen purebloods," she muttered.

Harry nodded with a smile, seeing her quickly catch on. "Nature abhors a vacuum, and so does a hierarchy. The moment those guys died, the Wizengamot had a lot of missing members. The families were baying for blood, but the 'Death Eater' tag kept those families from acting out. We were lucky that I got Sirius freed so we could take our places at the Wizengamot. House Black and Potter, joined with Greengrass and made a new power base. Bones and Longbottom and Burke drifted in right after."

"And you say you don't understand politics," Fleur muttered under her breath.

Harry laughed. "Watch and learn, as they say. But it makes me think, if that one incident changed so much for the better, then what if there were… more? I almost can't bring myself to hate Fudge. He's a simple man, a placeholder. So long as the people supporting him are there, he'll do what they want, whether he likes it or not. But take enough of those people out, and Fudge's Ministry topples down like a house of cards. Alternatively, weaken his power base and give him a new power base to latch onto, and he'll be our greatest ally. Hell, he'll make the rest of the sheep think it's in their best interests, like he's doing now. He'll drive the Ministry against the Death Eaters and maybe we'll have a chance to fight back."

"'Arry," said Fleur, swallowing, "that sounds like a coup."

"It's exactly what it sounds like."

Daphne opened her eyes groggily. Her first sensation was one of discomfort, which grew to aching when she became more alert. She opened her blue eyes, and slowly, her vision came to focus. She had been coming in and out of focus for quite some time now. She remembered feeling hot, and then feeling cold. There was the familiar weight of a spoon above her tongue, and the taste of soup. She might even have vomited a number of times. A few times, she thought she saw strange sights, a snake, a silvery statue, a woman with hazel eyes that she couldn't put a finger on, and then…

Then as though a switch had been flipped, everything snapped back into clarity. Her eyes shot open, only to close again as she groaned.

"Ugh!" she muttered, trying to massage her head with both hands. One of them made the trip, the other just jerked, being trapped beneath something else. Daphne managed to crack an eye open to check on it, and found a familiar mop of black hair resting on it, with the person it belonged to, snoring softly while seated on a chair.

Despite the pain, a smile crossed her face.

By the looks of it, it was well-past midnight, and she knew for a fact that Poppy Pomfrey did not allow nightly visitors, especially students. That half of Harry's body and the chair was missing from her sight told her that her fiance had not stopped to ask for permission.

As she marvelled at the sound of his deep breaths, Daphne remembered the events of the match. She had been absolutely exhilarated to be playing her first official match as a Slytherin chaser, and after those gruelling weeks of training with Montague and Warrington with not a single episode of the curse acting out, she had thought she'd finally be able to add Chaser to her list of achievements.

And things were even going in her favour. Throughout the game, she had led Slytherin ahead with one successful goal after another. Even after Johnson got switched by the littlest Weasley, she had not been overwhelmed. And then, out of nowhere, the curse had begun its onslaught.

Daphne remembered the absolute scare that settled in her chest, feeling the nerve-wracking agony that tore through her nerves, a minor cruciatus in itself. While the original would have turned her into a vegetable within the first twenty seconds of exposure, this diluted version kept her spasming in excruciating pain throughout the entire assault which could span over multiple minutes, or until she lost consciousness. Unfortunately she was up in the air, and losing consciousness would result in significant injury, and Daphne wasn't ready for that. The rest of it had been more like flashes of sounds and images in between her moments of unspeakable agony. She remembered hearing about Harry diving for the snitch, a pleasing thought because it meant the game would be over. The next moment she saw that bludger come at her, with Harry hot on its trail. For a moment, she had been dumbstruck, unsure what was happening, except that being hit by the bludger would be bad. Very bad. She felt Harry coil himself around her, the bludger striking him in the arm as he let out a hiss of pain, the two of them tumbling off their respective brooms into a free-fall towards the ground. Daphne had felt a tinge of fear in her heart, but it had been quickly subsumed in the knowledge that she was in his arms.

The last thing she remembered was Lee Jordan commenting about Malfoy catching the snitch.

Harry had given up the snitch's trail because someone had shot a bludger at her. She tried hard to think back to the match, but none of the Gryffindors came to mind. The Weasley twins were close to the Gryffindor goalpost, while the Chasers were aggressively pressing on the Slytherin borders. Maybe the twins had struck at Malfoy? Why? Harry was clearly a superior seeker. And even then, that didn't explain how the bludger came at her from below. Not unless someone bewitched it, but even if that had been the case, it'd be after Harry, like back in second year.

That only left…

Merlin!

Daphne was almost certain she had seen Goyle down there. Had Goyle hit her? Why? Because Harry would come for her? No. Goyle couldn't be trusted to put his food into his mouth without Malfoy's orders. Which meant…

Her eyes widened.

Malfoy.

That motherfucking hair-bleached git! He was behind this. Daphne was sure of it. Malfoy must have taken the shot, and Harry, the silly Gryffindor, had dropped the Snitch to try save her from getting hit by the bludger. Her, Daphne Greengrass, the opponent team's chaser. And in doing so, he had lost the Snitch and the game had gone to Slytherin. And the worst part? Malfoy hadn't even broken any rules. Not even the Gryffindors could complain about it since he had hit his own team member.

The slytherin in her approved.

With one single hit, literally, Malfoy had secured victory for Slytherin, while making Harry look absolutely terrible in front of everyone. And all of it, because Malfoy knew that she, Daphne Greengrass, was Harry's weakness.

She clenched her fists. Harry had boldly proclaimed that she taught him what it meant to be strong. She was supposed to be helping him, not be his vulnerability, damn it! He had already pitied her by marrying her in hopes of saving her from the blood curse, and in return, Daphne had promised to help him in whatever way she could. But since then, it was always Harry that had helped her. He had made her feel, made her think of herself, her own ambitions and desires, her own life apart from being the Greengrass heiress. He had made her begin to dream about a happy life, a happy marriage with someone she could love, and after discovering the shocking truth about the origin of the curse, he was leaving no stone unturned in finding a cure. All of that while publicly acknowledging their betrothal.

She was supposed to be his reliable support system, not make him her crutch.

No more. She promised herself. No more. That sonofabitch thought he could use me to get with Harry, didn't he?

Daphne seethed.

No one fucks with my Harry. She told herself. Not on my watch.

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