Made a few edits to chapter 6 nothing major just needed to change the setting from night to evening to have a better flow for the next chapters.

And here we now begin to move to original work! I was able to knock these out much faster than I thought. I still plan on having another 2 more chapters before I fly out this weekend. Anyway hope you all enjoy and as always if you have any suggestions or comments feel free to let me know!!

Chapter 7: Just Like That?

The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows over the still surface of the Black Lake. Harry and Daphne sat side by side, the gentle lapping of the water filling the silence between them. For a moment, it felt as though the weight of their pasts had lightened, just enough to breathe a little easier.

Harry glanced at Daphne out of the corner of his eye. She looked…different. Not in the way she held herself—there was still that unyielding, proud grace about her—but in the way her expression softened ever so slightly. As if she was letting herself rest, if only for a moment.

"You know," Harry began, breaking the silence, "this is probably the first time I've ever felt like I could talk to someone and not have to explain everything. With Ron and Hermione…they care, but it's different. They don't—" He stopped himself, unsure how to finish.

Daphne tilted her head slightly, her icy gaze softening as it met his. "They don't understand," she supplied.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Not like this."

For a few moments, neither spoke. Then, almost hesitantly, Daphne turned to Harry, her fingers absently tracing the grass beside her. "Harry," she said, her voice quieter than usual, "I want to ask you something. But you have to promise not to laugh."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not much of a laugher, you know."

That earned him the faintest twitch of her lips—a ghost of a smile. "Right. Well…" Daphne took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Have you ever heard of a magical friendship ritual?"

Harry blinked. "A what?"

"A magical ritual," she said, her tone more confident now, "meant to solidify a bond between two people. It's something I found in that old book I told you about. The Black Book. It's supposed to be…symbolic. A promise, of sorts. That no matter what happens, you won't turn on each other. That you'll always have each other's backs." She looked away, as if embarrassed by her own words. "It's probably ridiculous, but I've been thinking about it since…well, since we started talking."

Harry frowned, not because he thought it was silly, but because he could see how much this meant to her. "You've been thinking about this since we met?"

Daphne's gaze snapped back to him, sharp and defensive. "Don't get the wrong idea. It's not some…sentimental nonsense. I just—" She stopped, exhaled, and started again. "I've spent my whole life not trusting anyone, Harry. Not even my own family. But with you…" She hesitated, searching for the right words. "You're different. And if we're going to do this—whatever this is—I want to prove to you that I won't betray you. Ever."

Harry was quiet for a long moment, processing her words. Then he nodded. "All right. Let's do it."

Daphne blinked, clearly not expecting him to agree so quickly. "Just like that?"

He shrugged. "I trust you."

Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to argue, but no words came. Finally, she sighed and pulled a small, worn book from her bag—the Black Book. "Fine. But you're going to read the spell before we do anything. I'm not having you accuse me of trying to hex you later."

Harry smirked. "Fair enough."

She handed him the book, and he opened it to the marked page. The spell was written in an ancient, flowing script, the words almost glowing on the page. He read it carefully, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of the unfamiliar phrases.

"'This ritual binds the souls of two who vow loyalty,'" he read aloud, "'their fates entwined, their magic shared, their hearts unbroken by betrayal.'" He glanced up at her. "That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

Daphne crossed her arms. "It's old magic. Of course it's dramatic."

Harry read on, noting the specific instructions and the list of required elements. It seemed simple enough—just a drop of blood from each participant and a spoken incantation. But there was something about the phrasing that tugged at the back of his mind, something he couldn't quite place.

Still, he closed the book and handed it back to her. "All right. Let's do it."

Daphne studied him for a moment, as if trying to gauge his sincerity. Then she nodded and pulled a small, silver dagger from her bag. The blade caught the fading light of the sunset, glinting ominously.

"You're really prepared for this," Harry said, eyeing the dagger.

"Always," she replied, her voice steady. "Hold out your hand."

Harry hesitated for only a second before extending his hand. Daphne did the same, and with a quick, practiced motion, she pricked her finger with the dagger, then handed it to him. He followed her lead, wincing slightly as the blade pierced his skin.

Their blood mingled as they pressed their fingertips together, and Daphne began to speak the incantation, her voice low and deliberate. The words seemed to hum in the air around them, resonating with a power that sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

As Daphne finished speaking, the silvery tendrils of light twisted and swirled, pulling tighter around them until the air seemed to hum with raw power. The moment the last word of the incantation left her lips, the light erupted into a blinding brilliance that swallowed the world.

Harry flinched, instinctively squeezing his eyes shut, yet the light seemed to pierce through his eyelids, burning with warmth instead of pain. When it finally dimmed, he opened his eyes to find Daphne staring at him with the same wide-eyed astonishment he felt.

It was as though something invisible had shifted between them, a tether neither could see but both could feel. The connection was immediate and profound, like a missing piece of each of their souls had clicked into place. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, overwhelmed by the inexplicable sensation of wholeness.

"Did you feel that?" Harry finally asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

Daphne nodded slowly. "It's… different. Like you're… closer." She hesitated, almost shy for once. "I didn't expect it to feel like this."

Harry was at a loss for words. The sensation defied explanation—an instinctive certainty that they were bound together now in a way that transcended friendship. It wasn't just trust or camaraderie. It was something more, something deeper.

Breaking the silence, Daphne gave him a half-smile, her earlier confidence resurfacing. "Well, Potter, I suppose you're stuck with me now."

Harry laughed, the sound easing some of the tension in the air. "Could be worse."

Daphne rolled her eyes but didn't argue. Neither of them noticed the faint shimmer that lingered around their joined hands, nor the subtle warmth radiating between them that would not fade.