Colours of Obsession

by Plastic Dreams

A story of how the meeting of three colours finally manages to bring together an unknown romance between an obsessed, in-denial Daphne Greengrass and an equally obsessed, and less in-denial, Harry Potter. (GOF!Haphne, SmarterStronger!Harry) !SliceOfLife

15. Invitations 1

Colours of Obsession

A story of how the meeting of three colours finally manages to bring together an unknown romance between an obsessed, in-denial Daphne Greengrass and an equally obsessed, and less in-denial, Harry Potter.

*O*O*O*

"And the road's still long but you come along.
And you hold my hand, and you understand.
When I look at you, I can't believe it's true.
You're all I ever dreamed of, and you love me."

*O*O*O*

A/N:

RIP to Dame Maggie Smith.

You were a perfect McGonagall and a wonderful woman.

*O*O*O*

Ron came bounding down the stairs two steps at a time before landing on the packed dirt with a great stomp. He glanced around momentarily before rushing out of the bottom of the stands with great speed.

There, in the distance, he saw the floating stretcher accompanied by one of the mediwizards. They were headed to a smaller tent he had seen the other champions retire to earlier.

Outside, Professor McGonagall stood with two prefects. She waved the mediwizard over and regarded Harry's form with worry before allowing them through by holding one side of the flap open.

Ron took a few moments to compose himself before approaching but was quickly stopped by the prefects.

"Mr Weasley," the professor greeted with a frown as she stepped in front of him, "this place is off limits to spectators."

"I've got to see Harry," said Ron, "it's urgent."

She eyed him curiously. "While he may be injured, I do believe Mr Potter will recover soon enough. Surely this can wait."

"I haven't got that sort of time, Professor!" The day had already proven that Harry could have died. Delaying things any further didn't sit right with Ron, who would have been kept up all night by his guilt.

McGonagall was somewhat aware of the ongoing spat between her two students — it was impossible not to notice. The frostiness and unusual distance between the once inseparable pair were so palpable that she could feel the tension even from the front of the class.

He spoke up again, this time with more conviction in his tone.

"I need to speak to him."

Just as she had done with Harry, McGonagall stared intently at Ron. He couldn't quite discern what she was thinking as she observed him, but she ultimately sighed and swept the entrance open for him.

"Go on then, Mr Weasley. Do behave yourself."

Ron thanked her with a quick nod before hurriedly rushing in, narrowly missing the small, proud smile on his professor's face.

*O*O*O*

In the stands, the Chimaeras were patiently awaiting their turn to exit. With all the students behind them congesting the way out, they didn't have much of a choice in the matter anyway.

Only Daphne seemed to have an issue with the delay as her knee bounced restlessly.

"Eager to leave?" observed Tracey with a small smile.

"He's hurt, Tracey. I'm worried!" If Daphne was being honest, she was fighting off the urge to just up and jump from the stands into the arena to skip the line.

Somehow sensing this, Tracey grabbed her arm softly to stop her.

"Relax, Green Queen. I mean, it's not like he's dead. The danger's over. Potter'll live to see another day." Tracey was pointing to the tent he had been lifted to in the distance. "Besides, the bloody Hell are we gonna do? Heal him? He's in good hands. Let the poor guy get some rest before ya fret him to death."

Daphne grumbled unhappily and continued to twitch relentlessly, but didn't argue. Tracey was right after all. Harry was in good hands and needed as much rest as he could get. All she could do was wish him a speedy recovery.

*O*O*O*

Save for empty cots, a few small bedside tables, and standing blinds, the tent was otherwise empty.

The other champions had already vacated through the tent's back entrance, leaving Harry alone in the company of the mediwizard.

Harry was resting on one of the beds with a half-empty bottle of draught up against his lips, his glasses and trophy set on the small nightstand beside him. The tincture was cooling and refreshingly minty even as he gulped down his last swig. The medicine immediately took effect as the stinging pain in his side started to subside, now replaced by a newfound numbness that slowly bled throughout his body.

The mediwizard had given him a brief inspection as he had downed the first half. "Finish up that bottle," he said curtly after, "then I'll escort you to Madam Pomfrey for further inspection."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. The rest of the pain was begging to be dulled by the medicine. He raised the bottle for another swig and heard the wizard speak up again. This time to someone else.

"Hey! You're not supposed to be here."

"Uh, I just wanted a moment…" Harry heard the familiar voice and glanced over to the entrance where Ron stood with the wizard towering over him.

"Now see here, boy…" the mediwizard warned, but Harry stopped the wizard by raising his hand.

"It's alright… won't be any trouble." Harry quickly said, his words starting to slur as the drugs' effects spread to his face. He set the now empty flask on the nightstand and gave his head a vigorous shake. "He's a friend."

The wizard looked a little annoyed but ultimately respected their privacy, stepping out of the tent through the front and leaving the two teens in each other's company.

Ron stood there, chewing on his lower lip and softly kicking the carpet floor. It looked like he had plenty to say, but didn't quite know how to start the conversation. Harry wasn't quite sure what to say himself.

Between the awkward tension in the air and the numbness that was now radiating throughout him, it was hard to get out all that he wanted to share with Ron in the last month.

He wanted to revel in the fact that they had stood up against Snape together and got away unpunished; to finally introduce him to Daphne and the rest of the Chimaeras.

But Harry couldn't start first — not without what he believed to be an overdue apology.

It felt like an eternity before Ron swallowed his silence.

"Mate… your match was bloody thrilling!"

Harry stayed quiet and chose to stare expectantly, waiting for more. The silence stretched between them as Ron's mouth gaped wordlessly like a fish on land. He shifted uncomfortably, the weight of Harry's gaze making him fidget even more.

Harry raised a brow at him. "Well?"

"Huh?" Ron blinked. He felt like a rubber band snapping back into place. His face had started to shift to a similar hue as his hair.

Ron was trying to ease himself into an apology, but he was tongue-tied. With tensions running high, teenage emotions flustering him, and a modicum of pride still in the way, Ron just couldn't jump straight into it.

"Is that it? How about an apology?" Harry exclaimed, clearly exhausted. He still propped himself up with his wobbly elbow to better glare at his friend. "One for not believing in me."

"I was— I was getting there! And, look, I thought I was right!" defended Ron, the apology already slipping from his mind as they squabbled like nothing had changed between them — as if making up for lost time.

"Yeah, you were right," Harry agreed stiffly. "A right twat, that is!"

Ron looked at him, brows furrowed, clearly upset. But just as quickly, the tension dissolved as his facade cracked. A snort escaped him, followed by full-blown laughter. Harry stared for a beat, then a wry smile tugged at his lips. Almost as if the laughter were contagious, his own followed moments later.

Ron's lips finally settled into an embarrassed smile, his hand absently clasping the back of his neck.

"Yeah… I suppose I was." Ron chuckled, shaking his head. He looked lost for words. "I'm sorry, Harry. I should have believed you. Seeing you fight that bloody dragon — when the fire came, and you were gone… I thought you had…" Ron glanced over to the shining egg on the bedside, frowning. "It scared me."

Harry said nothing in response. For a moment he looked at his hands, which were loosely clenched up. He blinked slowly and unravelled them with a heavy sigh. Looking back up at Ron, he swung himself off the bed and rose tentatively on wobbly legs.

"I'm sorry too. I could have handled things better."

Maybe, if he had seen things from Ron's point of view, a lot of their conflict could have been avoided.

Exhausted, Harry simply opened his arms, offering Ron a quiet invitation. Ron saw this and took big strides, crossing the space between in an instant.

They hugged, embracing each other tightly like a family separated by war.

And in some sense, they had.

"I missed you, mate."

"Me too."

They stood there for a moment longer before separating with a deep breath.

"Alright," Harry slipped his glasses back onto his face. "Now grab the egg and help me to Madam Pomfrey's, will you? I can't quite feel my limbs."

"Wait? We're leaving now?" Ron asked as Harry draped his arm over Ron's shoulder, allowing his friend to help support his weight. All the while he threw glances behind him, checking to see if a stern-faced McGonagall was behind them. "Won't we get in trouble?"

"When has that ever stopped us?" came the amused reply.

"Shit… speaking of, I can't believe we got away with standing up to Snape."

"I know right?" A feral grin took hold of Harry, "we should try it again sometime."

"Let's not push our luck."

As they slowly hobbled out through the back, Ron hefted the egg in his other arm. He cradled the treasure in his grasp, shivering a little from the smooth, cold of the golden shell before glancing over at Harry.

"So besides fighting a dragon, what else have you been up to?"

"Right," Harry hummed, "where do I even start…?"

*O*O*O*

Despite heavy bruising, damaged cartilage, and a concussion, Harry's recovery after the task had been swift. Three days under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye had him feeling right as rain again.

During that time, he had his fair share of visitors.

A huffing Professor McGonagall had swung by shortly after his arrival and given him an earful for leaving on his own.

Harry had corrected her by saying he had left with Ron, but that technicality only served to make her temper flare and failed to earn him any pity points. Otherwise, she had been very pleased and proud that her champion had made it through intact.

Fred and George swung by to congratulate him on his victory, as well as to drop off some 'get-well-soon' gifts they had gotten from their cut as bookies for the first round of bets. Showered in enough chocolate frogs to finish his card collection, Harry had spent his free time rummaging through the boxes for cards while setting aside the army of frogs for any visitors to snack on.

Unfortunately, the holographic Merlin he one day dreamed of owning remained ever so elusive.

Astoria and her friends were next to visit. They had made themselves at home, making sure Harry didn't feel lonely.

With so many of them around, it was impossible to.

In fact, Harry swore there were more of them than before. They filled up a section of the space in the infirmary, crowding around his bed to keep him company. While they settled for standing or sitting on conjured chairs, snacking on the free frogs, only Astoria was brazen enough to lounge on his bed, snuggling up with him like an affectionate cat — regardless of how his ribs felt.

This all made for quite the sight when Madam Pomfrey returned to find a corner of her infirmary swarming with chocolate-covered Slytherins.

On the afternoon of the second day, Luna Lovegood had dropped by. Or rather, had been waiting for him — as he had awoken from his nap with a scare to find her by his bedside, silent as a mouse.

For some odd, inexplicable reason, Harry had a subtle feeling that she had been there for quite some as soon as he acknowledged her presence, she started to read him some of the articles from the day's Quibbler.

It seemed that someone had allegedly spotted the reclusive and rare Crumple-Horned Snorkack!

Outside of its natural habitat of Sweden too!

Well… Harry didn't believe a word of it. But if it kept her happy, he was more than willing to entertain her.

Many other students visited him too. Not just ones he was familiar with from Gryffindor. Cedric (who had cut his hair), Fleur, Parvati and Lavender, Seamus, and Dean, were just some of the students who had swung by. Not to mention the whole host of unfamiliar faces. They had all come by just to check in on him, and even Harry couldn't believe just how well his reputation seemed to have improved.

It only took having to fight a deadly dragon on his own for it to happen! Very convenient!

The constant stream of visitors also helped to keep his mind busy from the odd absence of the more specifically, Daphne.

The only time he'd seen her was the very first night. She'd arrived by herself late into the hour, enough that he had thought her arrival was a dream.

Daphne swept up to his side like a hurricane but kissed his forehead with all the tenderness of moonlight.

"Are you awake, Harry? How are you feeling? Oh, I'm sorry I didn't come visit sooner," she said quietly, cradling his shoulders as she helped him sit up. "I've been busy on our latest project. I've even recruited a familiar face for help."

Harry, to his credit, had tried to reassure her that he was fine — and to ask if he could help with whatever she had planned. Groggy and delirious from the medication and sleep, the words tumbled out as incoherent babbling.

Somehow though, Daphne seemed to have deciphered his meaning through his rambling.

"No, no. Don't worry, darling. Just rest up." She sighed against his cheek, stroking his hair. "I wish I could stay longer, Harry. But someone needs to watch over the rest. Tracey's outlandish ideas need to be kept in check, Hermione's already butting heads with her, and Neville certainly isn't going to say 'no' to either of them. Hopefully we'll be done by the time you're discharged… so take all the time you need, okay?"

Harry wasn't sure what she'd been referring to and couldn't remember much more after that. He was sluggishly drifting back to sleep, and Daphne had helped tuck him back under the sheets where it was nice and toasty. She stayed there with him, holding his hand and comforting him, up until the moment he started to softly snore.

Paying his thanks to Madam Pomfrey, he left the infirmary in a hurry and rushed over to the Clubhouse. Now that he was right as rain, he couldn't wait to see what that project they were working on was.

When he got there, something caught his eye. A note penned with care, in gorgeous cursive, and punctuated with a small heart had been attached to the middle of the wooden door.

It simply read:

'Welcome home.'

*O*O*O*

The first thing Harry experienced when he cracked open the door was the unexpected sound of music, emanating from a beaten bronze gramophone by the door. The recording of a slow and gentle piano melody emanated from it, accompanied by a quiet mechanical whirring as the loaded disc spun in circles.

Harry took in the rest of the room. The space he had gotten so familiar with over the last few months was now entirely unrecognizable.

The once drab curtains, faded grey and tattered from years of moth bites, had been drawn back and replaced by bold swaths of red and green cloth. It divided the room sharply between the two colours and represented the namesake of their group.

The wrought iron bars over the windows had been stripped, and the windows were also wiped clean of years of smudging and grime, polished to crystal-clear standards. A near-invisible magical layer seemed to sheen once in a while, likely some sort of barrier to make the windows visible only one way.

Now unobstructed, sunlight streamed in, illuminating the room like never before. Under the windows, numerous pots of plants and flowers thrived on metal racks, filling the air with a faint floral scent.

With the old wooden tables for classes removed, the space felt far larger. Brightly lit and cleared of clutter, the large classroom had been transformed and sectioned off into several distinct areas, each fulfilling a newfound purpose.

The space closest to the entrance where Harry was standing had been converted to a training area.

Two wooden practice dummies stood by the wall, motionless like scarecrows. Gone were the heaps of rubble, as was the pile of dirty mattresses. Instead, that portion of the room was covered in a layer of padding for duelling that doubled as a training mat.

The colourful stains on the walls were gone too. Most of it, at least. The only trace of it left was contained within an empty, gold-trimmed frame that hung on the wall — an artsy reminder of what it used to look like.

As Harry took it all in, he stepped closer to the centre of the room.

At the centre of the room lay a regal Persian rug beneath a set of sofas, loveseats, and a low coffee table. Small steel lanterns floated in the air above the space, providing another source of light.

Just in front of what was basically the living room, a cozy nook with woefully barren bookshelves and plush throw pillows invited students to lounge on the floor. A cubby beside it offered Wizarding entertainment from Exploding Snap to Wizard Chess, and even a small assortment of board games.

Beside the living room and lounge, new tables and chairs had been arranged into a communal dining area, similar to the grand table they had created to have lunch at before. It was fit to seat all of them, and then some. Each seat featured empty plates, cutlery, pitchers and goblets that were set for anyone seeking a meal.

At the front of the room, the refurbished teacher's table now served as a spot for studying or meetings, complete with a new chalkboard, quills, parchment, and a bulletin board.

No longer was the room a drab and dusty hideaway born out of convenience, now refurbished to be full of life and purpose.

Harry was truly blown away at how much had changed in such a short time.

So, this was what they had been busy with…

Just as he did, the rest of the Chimaeras popped out from behind the bookshelves by the lounge.

"Surprise!"

"Aren't you all a sight for sore eyes." Harry was beaming at them as they came over to greet him properly. Then his brows knitted together in confusion as he asked the first thought that came to him. "Wait, how long were you all hiding there and waiting for?"

"A comically convenient amount of time!" Tracey rushed to his side and punched Harry in the arm before she hugged him."Ach! I'm glad yer finally out of that bloody bed, Potter."

"Me too," Hermione hugged Harry briefly. "You had us scared to death when that Horntail hit you!"

Neville joined in as well, though his warm smile turned a bit shaky at the mention of the dragon. "Not to mention when it breathed all that fire… We thought the worst…"

"Thankfully, I made it back," he grinned, "safe and sound."

Daphne was the last to reach him, slowly gliding up to him like a swan on a lake.

"Safe and sound, indeed…" she said, delivering a gentle kiss to his cheek…

…before cuffing him hard on the back of the head.

The other three winced a little. Harry's head didn't budge one bit, but he still played along and grimaced a little.

"Ow… I just got out, Daph. You're gonna send me back again."

"Ugh! Safe and sound, my arse!" she shouted, ignoring his joke and the ever-familiar sting from striking his sturdy frame. "You were neither of those things!"

She had avoided getting upset with him the last time she had seen him in the infirmary since he was still injured and delirious. But now that he was in tiptop shape, she could better express her feelings from then.

Seeing that she was being quite serious, Harry dropped the act. "I guess you're right," Harry smiled at her apologetically. "And… thank you."

"What?" Daphne looked a little incredulous at his reaction. "For hitting you?"

"No," he smiled, "for helping me come up with a plan to beat the dragon."

If it hadn't been for the imaginary conversation and assistance from his girlfriend, he might not have come up with that distraction.

"I haven't the slightest clue on what you're talking—" Her eyes widened in realization. "Oh. Oh, no…" Gently, she caressed Harry's face, her fingers lingering even as she shut her eyes and sighed worriedly. "Darling, you poor thing. You really must have been hit harder than I thought. I guess there was some damage Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix."

Confused, Harry frowned a little. "No, I—"

The rest of the group picked up on her tone and quickly joined in by looking equally melancholic, as if they had all just been delivered grim news.

Tracey sniffled and pretended to wipe an invisible, rolling tear from her cheek.

"Heard he hasn't been quite the same since that dragon knocked out what little was left of his brain."

"Okay, real funny—"

Hermione had her hands clasped together.

"Mercy for this poor soul…"

"Seriously—"

Even Neville joined in.

"Get well soon, Harry."

"Alright, alright! Enough questioning my remaining intelligence!" Harry was vigorously shooing them away as he rolled his eyes at his giggling friends. He stepped out of the living room and entered the lounge. He squatted down, inspecting the games they had available. "What on Earth did you all do to this place? It looks amazing!"

"I'll say…" Tracey hopped onto the sofa, making a big show out of tiredly splaying herself out across it. She looked like a cat, tired from a long day's worth of lounging. "We worked hard to make this place look good, y'know!"

Hermione stood over Tracey and cleared her throat. "By 'we', she means the kitchen's elves. They did a majority of the heavy lifting and cleaning."

"Yeah, but I had to spend hours arguing with ya!" she glared up at Hermione, "That was a lotta work!"

Daphne palmed her face and quietly muttered to herself, "Not this again…"

While the two girls bickered in the background, Harry sought an explanation from Daphne and Neville with a confused look.

"When Hermione found out about house elves and their working conditions, she made quite the fuss." Daphne clarified with a hand up to her mouth, whispering. "Understandable, of course, given your Muggle upbringing. And while she's not entirely wrong, it really wasn't the time. I just asked Tracey to explain their perspective to her — which entailed a lot of arguing. Not my smartest decision."

"I don't think I'd have fared any better at explaining it to her," admitted Neville. "It's still a very touchy subject for Hermione."

Daphne sighed. "In any case, let's not dive back into it. We've only just gotten her to respect the elves' wishes, which includes helping us out. Any radical reforms she wants to make can wait. Speaking of… Neville, can you please go see if you can calm them down?"

Neville hurried over to the other two, who were already in each other's faces, while Harry hummed at the development.

Hermione's outrage was understandable as house-elves had always existed in the periphery of the magical world, ignored and abused. Even after helping to free Dobby, Harry hadn't given their plight much thought. He didn't really see it as a problem that needed to be fixed, but Hermione apparently thought otherwise.

Harry dropped from his haunches and sat on one of the pillows while Daphne joined him. "So, how'd you convince them to help?"

"They've been familiar with my presence ever since we had that picnic. I thought I'd try and ask them if they'd help with this too. Turns out they were more than happy to help lend their magic — especially your good friend, Dobby."

Daphne had met him earlier in the year but hadn't known of the existing relationship between the loyal elf and Harry.

"Dobby's at Hogwarts?" Harry's face flashed with surprise at the news. He hadn't realised how much he missed that quirky elf.

Daphne had a full-blown smile now as she stroked her chin in recollection. "Yes. Recently hired as part of the kitchen staff, I believe. Apparently, he's been harping on to his fellows about you. 'Harry Potter, friend of Dobby and Champion of Hogwarts'. Quite the fan base he's stirred up in the kitchens."

She was giggling at the memory of all the elves eagerly hopping up and down with their hands raised, volunteering themselves to help.

"All I did was mention your name and they were practically tripping over each other trying to help."

"I hope he hasn't been too much of a bother…" Harry was a little embarrassed at the idea of Dobby going overboard as the elf usually did, even picturing him standing before his fellows and giving them passionate speeches in Harry's name.

"He's a massive sweetheart — just a bit chatty. Good thing I'm quite used to that by now." Dobby had told her much of their relationship and how Harry had freed him from servitude by tricking Lucius Malfoy. It was refreshing to hear more about Harry from someone else for a change. "Having the elves' help was a blessing. They helped set up privacy wards by using their magic in tandem with Hogwarts' own. Plus, they can apparate things inside the school, which made moving the furniture in secret a breeze."

"Don't compliment him too much, Green Queen," Harry warned her with a playful glint in his eye. "I'm starting to get worried about my own standing."

"You?" Daphne threw her head back against his shoulder and laughed, "If anyone should be worried, it's me! I've got some serious competition now with your fanboy."

During the few days together with Dobby, she had honestly considered hiring him in the future to work for their family. Even thinking about it now… with his loyal and protective disposition, he'd be a fantastic nanny for their kids!

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the hazy silhouette of Dobby on his hands and knees, searching the space under the sofa.

"Please, young lord! Young lady! Lady Daphne is going to be very cross with Dobby if we're late!" cried the elf to the emptiness before turning his attention to the large wardrobe beside it. He swung the doors open, searching between the hanging clothes for signs of life. As he did, he failed to notice the two small, smoky figures that seemed to emerge from their hiding spot behind him.

She couldn't quite make out their features, save for an identical pair of mischievous green eyes and mops of dirty blonde hair. Still unbeknownst to Dobby, they crept past him on tiny feet, escaping the room with stifled laughter and large grins.

"Daphne?" Harry's voice drew her from the vision. The silhouettes started to dissipate, and just as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

Daphne felt the blood rising to her face. "Sorry." She cleared her throat and, with great difficulty, suppressed the urge to grin ear-to-ear. "I was just thinking of Dobby… and the far future."

It was an idle thought she'd been having the last few days while designing and shifting furniture around.

"Sure seemed like it," Harry brushed some of her hair out of her face with a smile. "You were saying something about Dobby?"

"Ah. When he heard you'd been injured, he nearly apparated straight to your bed." She huffed as the others returned, settling opposite the couple.

He had flashbacks to his infirmary stay in his second year. Back then, Harry had fruitlessly tried to reason with the elf as he repeatedly bonked himself on the head with a bottle of Skele-Gro as self-imposed punishment.

Yeah. It was probably a good thing she convinced him otherwise. Even as a free elf, Harry couldn't imagine Dobby punishing himself for disobedience by doing the same, this time with a giant golden egg.

He'd have to find the time to stop by the kitchens and give his thanks to his friend and finally dispel his anxieties.

She absently twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "I had to be very strict to make sure he didn't bother you."

Hermione didn't bother to hide her smirk. "Speak for yourself, Daphne."

"She was worried sick about you," Neville said, smiling at the thought.

Tracey was giggling now even as she headed over to the cubby stocked with games. She grabbed the deck of Exploding Snap and joined Hermione and Neville. "Couldn't shift a piece of furniture without sighing and wondering aloud to the rest of us if you were alright."

Daphne remained deadpan and silent, but the redness on her face betrayed her emotions. Still, she didn't resist even when Harry gently slipped his arms around her waist. He sank his face into her hair, his voice low as he whispered to her.

"Credible sources have told me you were very worried about me."

"...And what will you do with that information?"She could feel him start to smile against her skin.

"I'll have to make up for lost time."

"You better." She cracked a smirk, satisfied with his answer. "At least three days' worth."

"You're getting spoiled, you know." Despite that, Harry snuck a quick kiss on her cheek. "But your wish is my command, ma'am!"

The awkward clearing of throats had them looking back up to their friends.

Hermione and Neville were red as beetroots, looking anywhere else in the room but the couple. Between the two blushing students, a similarly rosy-faced Tracey had a smile that split her face into two.

"Good Lord! Ya want us to clear the room?"

The question was obviously rhetorical, but Daphne still shook her head in response. She sank further into Harry's grasp with her hair and hands covering her face, trying to hide her embarrassment at being called out for their unabashed displays of public affection.

"Uh, sorry," a smiling Harry looked apologetic at making them feel awkward. Hermione and Neville waved his apology away but were still unable to look him in the eye.

Tracey started to shuffle the cards. "Don't be! This is good!" she said as she handed them out. "Having lovebirds around helps some of us get more in tune with romance." As she set the card in front of Hermione, she made sure to give her friend a pointed look.

They hadn't seen too much of Krum since the first task, so the hint was thinly veiled.

Surprisingly, Hermione matched her smile.

"Once again… speak for yourself." Her eyes flickered over Tracey's shoulder and at Neville for the briefest of moments.

It seemed that it wasn't just Harry and Daphne that had noticed the growing chemistry between the other two members.

"Hm?" Tracey suddenly yawned loudly, making a big show out of stretching her back and limbs. "Forget it. I dunno why you lot are so bloody nosy about other people's lives. Come on, let's play already!"

Amused, the others rolled their eyes at her reaction, with Neville being none the wiser.

The five began their game of Exploding Snap, with it growing increasingly intense as the minutes ticked by and the cards slowly stacked up. The five played their cards swiftly and calculatively, with alliances forming and dissolving as fast as the cards were volatile. Choice words and sharp barbs were traded as they dealt blows to each other's hands. No one was safe. With the cards popping every so often, the room was abuzz with laughter and shrieks from both the girls and the boys.

As the game wound down, Harry finally spoke.

"By the way, I… uh… I told Ron." Harry breathed out heavily as he lowered his hand of cards to regard the rest. "That day he escorted me to the infirmary; we made up and I told him everything. About us. All of us."

"What? Really?" Hermione looked a bit surprised. Ron had spent the last few days in their presence around school and he hadn't seemed any different.

"He hasn't said anything to me," said Neville, with Hermione nodding in agreement.

"Me either. I can't tell if that's a good sign or not."

Neville shrugged. "He hasn't done anything drastic, so I think it's good…"

On the other hand, Daphne seemed unconcerned as she looked at her cards. She'd brushed past him once or twice in class and hadn't detected any sort of malice from him. "How did he take it at the time?"

"Um…" Harry sniffled for a moment as he mulled over his words. "He didn't say much until he dropped me off. Just a word of 'congratulations' and to 'get well soon'. So… just about as well as Ron could, I suppose."

"Who cares," Tracey yawned as she threw her card down, but groaned when Harry immediately countered it. "Don't make a big deal out of it if he's not going to."

With that simple piece of wisdom, the rest seemed to agree. They returned to the game, all groaning when a snickering Neville stole the lead.

*O*O*O*

Properly introducing Ron to Daphne was an inevitable necessity, but it was still a little awkward when Harry had to ask Ron.

Ron's acceptance of the meeting had been reassuring, but with a passive visage, Harry couldn't gauge Ron's feelings on the matter.

In the western wing of the school, they were gathered in a secluded doorway, sheltered from the elements by a door around Hagrid's height. Peering through the small stone slits in the walls, they could just barely make out one of the stone bridges through the whipping winds outside.

Here, student foot traffic was non-existent and so they were afforded as much privacy as they could outside of the Clubhouse.

Unfortunately, they hadn't yet tweaked the security measures Dobby had helped set up. The room was currently set to eject any unauthorized guests with little regard to their safety or landing. And as much as Ron was Harry's best friend, he was not one of the Chimaeras.

Speaking of whom… Before the meeting, they had all been given roles to fulfil.

Daphne would be the liaison between their houses, Harry and Hermione would reign Ron in if the conversation started to heat up, and Tracey… was to stay clear of the conversation altogether.

Like applying gasoline straight to a smouldering fire, there was no telling what sort of damage would be done if they let Tracey talk freely and when Ron was around — so Neville would be keeping her occupied and away from Ron.

For some reason, Tracey was more than happy to acquiesce.

It was a dreadfully cold morning. Even the warmth provided by the few lit torches and braziers wasn't enough to repel the cold. Ron stood in his coat with his arms crossed as he looked to his friends, then at Daphne. Neville and Tracey were sitting together on a faraway bench further down the corridor, out of sight.

Ron understood that he wasn't a part of this newly established group. He thought it was fair considering all that happened when he hadn't been around. Truth be told, he didn't feel left out. He still had Seamus and Dean, and it wouldn't have been fair to dump them just because he patched things up with Harry.

It helped that he still wasn't too comfortable fraternizing with Slytherins — even if one of them was his friend's girlfriend.

Harry was the first to speak, introducing both parties to each other. "Ron, this is my girlfriend, Daphne Greengrass. Daphne, this is one of my best friends, Ron Weasley."

"A pleasure to formally meet you after all this time, Weasley…" said Daphne. With her tone, it was hard to tell if she was being sarcastic, but she showed her sincerity by extending her hand out to him.

Ron didn't take it. Instead, he gave her a curt nod, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly with mild apprehension.

"You too," he replied, though it was notably terse.

"Don't be rude, Ron." Hermione frowned at his uncooperative attitude, nodding her head for him to take Daphne's hand.

"I'm not trying to be…" He gave Hermione an uncertain look. "Uh… look, no offense to you, Greengrass, but I'll pass for now." Despite his statement, it was still an unmistakably rude action. "I still don't quite like Slytherins…"

There was a beat of silence as the words were measured by the room's occupants. A moment later, as if having weighed the statement, a voice echoed back from down the hall.

"We don't quite like ya either!"

"Tracey!" they heard Neville's hushed voice admonishing her for interrupting their discussions. This was promptly followed by her mischievous giggling.

Daphne dropped her hand with a dismissive shrug but cracked a smile at Tracey's response. If she was truly the slightest bit insulted by his behaviour, she didn't show it.

"None taken, Weasley. With some exceptions, I don't like most of my Housemates either."

Ron might have been as hardheaded as Harry himself, but Harry still looked a little disappointed at how their interaction was turning out. He understood Ron's reservations but hoped that it would only be a matter of time before he got over his prejudices.

Ron coughed, looking away from the group and at a brazier's flame. "Just to make it clear, it's not like I hate you lot. You two helped Hermione out, and stood up to Malfoy and Snape. That was…" he nodded, mostly to himself. "…I really appreciated all that."

Hermione blushed a little, still touched at the reminder of how all her friends had come so defiantly to her rescue.

"Of course," said Daphne calmly, "we always protect our own. We just hope you'll eventually be able to trust us."

"Just give me some time," Ron met her gaze before rubbing his forehead. "All those years spent in Malfoy's presence can't wash off so soon." They all shared a chuckle at that. Then Ron glanced at Harry and gave him a knowing look. "You know, at the time I thought it was a bit odd that she wanted to speak to you after Moody showed us the Unforgivables. Now it all makes sense."

Daphne shrugged again, this time with a big smirk. "You were so close to figuring it out."

Harry shared the sentiment with a grin. He was relieved that Ron was already starting to warm up to Daphne.

Brick by brick, they'd bridge this gap. Slowly — but surely.

*O*O*O*

The Yule Ball's announcement was met with great fanfare amongst the Gryffindors.

Harry had been called up to speak with the professor about his dance partner, leaving Neville, Ron, Dean, and Seamus to discuss the announcement amongst themselves.

"So… are you all planning on inviting anyone?" asked Neville to the rest of the table.

"Uh, not yet," muttered Ron, scratching his neck awkwardly.

"Haven't got a clue." Seamus shrugged while Dean pondered the question thoughtfully.

"Mm… I think— No. Then maybe…" he shook his head slowly. "…I don't think so, no."

"Oh," Neville said, looking down at his twiddling thumbs, his cheeks tinted pink.

Unlike his friends, he already had someone in mind. It was hard not to. These days she seemed to be the only thing on his mind.

Tracey Davis. The girl of his dreams.

It was silly. Or at least he thought it was. It hadn't even been that long since they'd met. He still remembered being so frightened of flying, of her fast-paced lifestyle, and yet, with each passing day and lesson… eventually her presence became a given, and day by day he started to let her occupy more of his mind.

The amount of time they had been spending together —and in such close, close proximity— had also skyrocketed ever since she had started teaching him how to fly. He hadn't initially noticed —what with all the terror and the screaming— but he'd eventually lost track of when he stopped dreading and when he started anticipating their next sessions.

She'd helped him so much, he hadn't even noticed when he had stopped stuttering! And it was in all the little things too. From the way she would cling to him from the back of the broom when they rode together, shouting into his ear over the whipping winds, urging him to fly faster… To the way she cheered for him when celebrating the smallest of improvements.

It didn't help that outside of their lessons, she expressed herself as much through touch as she did with her words.

She liked keeping her hands busy. There wasn't a second they were idle. She let them run amok, absentmindedly fiddling with his personal objects when they lounged together in the Clubhouse. Her favourite activities were tugging at the ends of his robes, toying with his hands, or even lightly drawing images on his back with her fingertips.

The actions, understandably, made his skin crawl. But in a good way.

But did all of it mean anything?Was he reading too much into it?

He must have been, as her behaviour was unchanged with Daphne and Hermione. He'd often see Tracey communicating with them in the same way. Only Harry was spared from her idle acts, and that was likely only because it was out of respect to Daphne.

All these thoughts of her, and now the topic of the Yule Ball… it made him wonder if she already had a date — and if not, who she had in mind to go with.

He sat there, thinking about throwing his hat into the ring. It was a chance, a slim chance that she would say yes. That was quickly snuffed out once he reminded himself of all the boys who would surely be lining up to ask her. And without Harry there to push him, Neville didn't believe he was worth her time.

Undoubtedly, Tracey would have no shortage of choices. And try as he might, Neville couldn't help but compare himself to them.

They were probably smarter, stronger, and better looking than him. Not to mention that the robes his grandmother had packed for him weren't going to be at all flattering for him or his partner.

Just the idea of making Tracey look a fool just by standing next to him made him break out into a cold sweat.

Neville quickly tore the thought of them going together to might have grown more confident, but this was another level of self-respect he hadn't yet reached.

Disappointed and embarrassed at himself for trying to make their friendship out for more than it was, he just smiled… or at least it looked like he was trying to. He just looked like he had stubbed his toe and was trying to hold his scream in.

"Uh, me either…" he said, rather softly.

Thankfully no one else seemed to notice his inner turmoil.

"What about Harry? He's bound to get a date as a Champion, right?" asked Dean.

Ron and Neville shared a look. Ever since Harry had gotten better, they hadn't yet shared a class with the Slytherins, so his relationship still wasn't 'officially' public just yet.

"I think he'll have his hands full," said Neville as Harry returned to the table with a silly smile.

"Students! One final note about the event…" Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, snatching the attention back from her students. "In keeping with traditions predating the 1792 ban on the Triwizard Tournament, we will be reinstating the crowning of the evening's most esteemed pair — the 'Baron and Baroness of the Ball'. The winners will be decided by vote by the rest of the professors and students present that night."

With that, class drew to a close and the students scrambled, eagerly discussing it with their friends as they emptied the room. Dean and Seamus headed off to lunch first, while Harry, Ron, and Neville returned to their room to drop off their things.

During their journey, Harry had been stopped by a few older girls. Unfamiliar with this sort of interest from the fairer sex, it was a little awkward for him to reject them. Harry still managed it with as much grace as he could.

Telling them he already had a date helped too.

"They won't be the last," said Ron as they watched another girl leave disappointedly. He smiled, clearly entertained at Harry's newfound issue. "All the girls from here to France are going to be lining up to ask the 'Dragonslayer' out, mate."

Thankfully, Ron didn't seem the least bit bitter. In fact, he seemed glad he hadn't been saddled with such a duty.

"Oh God. I hope not." Harry still grimaced as he avoided a group of Beauxbaton girls. "And 'Dragonslayer'? Is that what they're calling me now? Come on, I barely even beat that thing."

"Did better than most could at least."

"I think Mal— er, Draco… came up with that to mock you." Neville joined in, "I don't think it went the way he thought it would though."

"I just think the less attention from everyone else, the better."

"It's a good thing you don't have to keep that secret anymore then." Neville replied helpfully.

"Oh, good point, Nev. I need to ask Daphne to accompany me around tomorrow. That'll ward the rest of them off."

"Careful she doesn't bite any of their heads off," Ron said, shivering a little at the thought of Daphne transforming into a basilisk and attacking any girl that approached Harry.

"She'll play nice with them," said Harry before pausing, "...I think."

*O*O*O*

It was almost evening when Draco Malfoy made his way up the stairs from the Slytherin common room. His usual lackeys marched in tandem in front of him, brusquely pushing through any smaller students who failed to move out of the way in time.

He had just gotten word from some second years that his target had been sighted, and after stowing the necessary items he needed into his robes, he made a beeline directly for them.

A devious look of satisfaction was present in his features. And rightfully so, as today was the day to set his plans into motion! For the last half a week, he'd been formulating a plan of attack to topple Potter's self-esteem whilst restoring his own image as Slytherin's best. And after many, many scrapped plans, he had emerged from the dungeons with one that was sure to work!

And the crux of it all?

Romance!

It didn't matter that Potter was physically stronger or could wield his wand with far more finesse. As his father always told him, power was fleeting. What truly endured was a wizard's legacy. None of Potter's strengths would matter if Draco could show him up in one of the most important stages of social power — securing a partner.

But not just any, no. Draco demanded only the best.

During his first day of planning, he had selectively combed through the school's list of students. First, he sorted the girls by their status and blood purity, then by their status, looks, and age. By the time he was done, the list had been culled down to just one singular name.

Daphne Greengrass.

Predictably, she remained, thus proving her to truly be the cream of the crop. She was the perfect girl who encapsulated his ideal traits in a partner that would drive Potter to jealousy! And what swell timing too as the Yule Ball's announcement earlier meant he had a perfectly sound reason to approach her.

And after she said yes, he had planned all sorts of activities for them to do together — all in public, of course.

Oh, with Greengrass draped elegantly on his arm, he wouldn't just look superior to Potter — he'd redefine what it meant to be desirable! He'd weaponize their relationship and firmly establish himself at the top of the school's hierarchy. When Potter finally lay his eyes on a power couple of their magnitude, he was sure to reel in envy! His fragile little mind would never allow him to comprehend their magnificence. Draco's remarks after would put him in his rightful place!

Potter would never again compete with him in this regard!

…

…

…Unfortunately for Draco, a major wrench in his plans was that he and Greengrass did not get along. Not one bit.

While she might have been everything he sought out in a partner, the two had been trading verbal jabs for the last four years, just barely stepping on each other's toes as each other's 'rivals'. It was unavoidable. Such was the expected nature of Slytherin's best. Their confrontations helped sharpen each others' wits, though mostly at the expense of their relationship.

And that lapse in his judgement and moment of weakness outside of Potions was the cherry on top of it all. Even Draco knew it had been a bad look for him.

She had seen him lashing out and losing his cool, and had even taken great offence to his hexing of Granger, sealing her impression of him in cement. He still hadn't a clue as to why she had reacted so strongly. What he did know was that he needed to fix things between them for this to work.

Like taking a sledgehammer to task, he'd shatter her previous impression of him and rebuild the pieces to one more befitting his image. It didn't matter if he really liked her or not, she was just a tool he needed to execute his scheme.

Exiting the hallway, Draco emerged in the study hall. Today, the space was being used by a few second-year students, as well as his target. They were sitting along the far-left side of the room, away from the others. He could just barely make out their conversation as he got closer.

"—let's not even talk about the Ball. I can't believe ya already got him a gift before I did!" Davis grabbed at her scalp with both hands, seemingly distressed. "A book about plants? Ugh, why didn't I think of that?! He's gonna love that!"

"He'll like whatever you get him," Greengrass replied smoothly, her eyes completely fixated on the book she was sketching in.

They were still in conversation when Draco and his lackeys walked up to their side. They drew all the other students' eyes, but a quick cracking of the knuckles from Crabbe sent their attention back to their work.

"I was thinking of a potted plant," Davis said thoughtfully.

"That'd be very cute."

He didn't care for their discussion and fully expected them to stop and acknowledge his presence. He stood there, arms behind his back, nose up, body ramrod straight as he waited…

"Hmm… it's not that I think it's a shite gift, but I mean — what if it is?"

"It's not. You're overthinking."

And waited…

"Oh, and I haven't gotten anything for her either. Ughhhh! Gift-giving's never been this hard!"

"Good thing they're very considerate people. All that matters to them is that you thought of them."

…and waited.

Still, they continued to chatter, though now it was mostly Davis' rapid prattling with Greengrass' occasional nod and hum of agreement.

Draco's lip twitched. He didn't take too kindly to being ignored but he maintained his composure to the two who were clearly bent on doing so. He had to be on his best behaviour. There was no getting through to Greengrass otherwise.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

Their reaction — the same.

"Evening," Draco's tone was polite but noticeably clipped from mild irritation. And yet, she still refused to acknowledge his existence. Draco said a little more firmly this time, "I'd like a word."

Without missing a beat, Davis broke off from the conversation, stared him dead in the eyes, and responded to his request.

"Cuntrag."

His stoic visage shattered instantly. "Excuse me?" As if he'd just been splashed in the face with cold water, he was visibly taken aback at the unusual profanity.

"Ya wanted a word, didn't ye?" Tracey said with a thin, unpleasant smile. "Take it. It fits you well."

"I was speaking to Greengrass, Davis. Not you." Draco regarded her with barely veiled annoyance. If she were by Greengrass' side, he would likely never break through to her.

"Feel free to get my opinion anyway, Draco."

"It's Malfoy," Draco said through grit teeth and pursed lips. It was clear he preferred them to use his "And I don't want it…"

Finally, Greengrass spoke to him.

"So, what is it you want?" She was so disinterested that she hadn't even stopped drawing.

By now, he could see that it was of the entire Quidditch pitch from the point of view of a Seeker, high up in the air. Their outstretched arm took up most of the page, with the Snitch hovering tantalizingly in the air, just out of reach by a fingertip,

No doubt that Draco's actions on the pitch had been the main source of inspiration for this piece of art, but he made no comment on it.

"A word." As Daphne opened her mouth to speak, and Draco thought he was going to have another obscenity hurled at him. He spoke up again quickly, cutting her off. "I meant… a moment."

"Yes, I'm aware of the term." She set her quill down and looked at him as if he were an idiot. "I just don't think you've earned it."

Spread thinly, the tiny smile on her face felt light years away from ever reaching her eyes. She made no attempts at hiding her distaste in engaging with Draco. It was clear their last encounter was still fresh in her head, just as it was for Draco. But he was here to kickstart the first of his plans to settle the score with Potter. And for that to work, he first had to make amends with her.

"I understand there's a misunderstanding between us. What happened last time was an accident. That spell wasn't meant for Granger." Daphne didn't seem to have liked his excuse for hitting Hermione any less than before as she furrowed her brows slightly.

"Of course, Draco." His eye twitched at being referred to by his first name yet again. "It was meant for Potter…"

"Yes!" he said with a wave as if finally making a breakthrough.

"...because he pushed your buttons…"

"Yes."

"...and even though he had his back turned."

"Y—Er…" Draco's smile faltered. "…Yes?"

"Wow, yer shootin' anyone that annoys ya, huh." Tracey snorted at his excuse. Her glazed look in her eyes cleared up, and she regarded him with a serious stare. "Would ya shoot me in the back too?"

His eyes widened, then narrowed.

"What? No! I just…" For a good moment, he could only stare back at her.

The truth was that, had there not been any consequences, Draco would have. Just a simple curse to remind her of her place. Nothing seriously harmful.

The fact that she read him so easily was just another reason to add to the mounting pile. Because for the longest time, the unruly girl had unsettled Draco deep down.

Sure, she was obviously attractive and would have been on his list as one of his potential partners somewhere along the lines… if not for her appalling attitude. But even worse than that was the fact that she was still considered one of Slytherin's best and the other half of Daphne Greengrass.

Yet Davis' popularity wasn't gained just through proximity with her. Unlike Greengrass, Davis frequently mingled with members of the other houses, and she found great success in it. She had them eating out the palm of her hand — even without threats of violence and underhanded coercion! They found her blunt honesty refreshing and somehow thought it to be a likeable trait!

If she came in tomorrow sporting yellow and black instead of green and silver, Draco wouldn't have even noticed anything wrong.

How could a Slytherin Pureblood —so brash, vulgar, and abrasive, that hailed from such a low pedigree— rise to rival him? For Draco, there was no shortage of such thuggery from the other Slytherin boys. But they were all a cut beneath him — a clear separation of superiority!

The ones meant to be at the top were supposed to be equipped with class and poise! Noble and regal like the Purebloods of old, just as his father had instilled in him since birth!

But her… Seeing what Tracey Davis had accomplished shook his understanding of the status quo. It terrified him knowing that someone like her had managed to climb up and rival him in Hogwarts.

"I just…" He wasn't quite so sure what to say.

Tracey didn't seem to care for his answer anyway.

"I'm not saying I'm surprised. Cowardice runs in yer family, doesn't it? It's only natural it got distilled into Malfoy's precious, wee princess."

Like a fire, stoked and fed, his anger became apparent through the ugly sneer that carved through his features. "Watch your tongue, Davis," he warned. "You forget your place. Someone who isn't even a true Pureblood shouldn't be slandering my family's name — one of the Twenty-Eight Families."

Her family line, while still technically Pureblooded now, had married half-bloods and muggles before in the very distant past, essentially 'diluting' their level of purity in the eyes of Draco and his ilk.

Tracey gasped as if seemingly realising her mistake, but the clear amusement in her eyes spoke volumes on how she truly felt riling him up.

"Sorry, yer highness. I didn't intend for you to take offence to it. I mean, the way yer daddy switched sides after the war was impressive, wasn't it? Got your family out of a spot of trouble. Heard he cleaned his hands of his crimes right quick and got away scot-free too!"

Along his temple, a prominent vein throbbed as his frustrations started to physically manifest. The all-around lack of respect for him culminated in Draco's facade falling away.

He had fallen for her bait — hook, line, and sinker.

"He was under a curse to comply, you stupid, little, yokel—!" he started to swear, only for Daphne to cut him off.

"Draco…" she said, sounding like his mother chiding him. Seeing his eye twitch involuntarily again, her smile grew ever so slightly. "Is this how you talk to women?"

He snorted. "You aren't women," he said matter-of-factly. His tone was softer than before, but completely dismissive now. He took a second to search for a better word. "You're… girls."

It was as if he had already completely forgotten his plans to court her.

Daphne's reply, delivered with a great calmness, was utterly scathing. "Hn. And you're certainly no man. Yet here you are, pretending you've earned the right to speak to us as one."

Whether it was intentional or not, Tracey failed to suppress a very loud snort. It earned glances from the other students, who had undoubtedly been listening in on their conversation the entire time.

"Em—barrassing~!" she muttered in a soft, sing-song tone, just loud enough for Draco to hear her.

Draco seemed at a momentary loss for words. His rage faltered and flatlined as their reactions showed they didn't respect him, taking the wind right out of his sails.

Wide-eyed, he turned to look behind him, as if seeking salvation from Crabbe and Goyle. They didn't quite know what to do to help, seeing as this was outside of their expertise of intimidation and physical violence.

Seeing that they were of no help, Draco exhaled exasperatedly. He turned back and tried to search for an answer.

"Well, no. It's different." His frown deepened as his shoulders pulled back, his body stiffening with pride. "I'm a 'Malfoy'. I was raised—"

"A Malfoy?" Daphne rubbed her eyes wearily, feeling fatigued by the conversation. "This again? Haven't we heard enough of that?"

Tracey offered her a smile and a shrug, clearly enjoying the way Draco was starting to squirm now that they were digging into him.

He was reminded of the looks from his Housemates just before he'd lost his cool the last time.

"The only thing you're worth is your father's name, Draco." Potter's words were still in his brain, taunting him.

His tongue suddenly felt like sand, filling and sucking the moisture right out of his mouth. He blinked, confused at just how poorly things were going. He had accounted for none of this in his plan, and it was turning out to be especially horrific.

Both girls were staring expectantly now, waiting for him to continue — or leave. It was clear they didn't quite care which he chose. He visibly deflated with a sigh as he tried to salvage what he could, still trying to see his plan through.

"...Never mind. We're strayed from the topic of conversation." Draco shut his eyes for a brief moment, returning to the topic before any more of his pride got hurt. "I just want to speak to you, Greengrass. Privately."

"Whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of her."

"Yeah, Draco. We come in a bundle." Travey nodded her head towards the two boys behind him. Crabbe and Goyle shifted nervously under Tracey's attention. "Just like Dumb and Dumber back there."

They looked insulted but knew better than to correct her. Instead, they shared a glance and pointed their fingers between each other as if seriously considering who was who.

Draco glanced over to Tracey again, then the other students. He grimaced at the choices available.

Still, if he wasn't going to execute this plan now, he'd never get another chance to.

"Alright, fine." Flustered and disheartened by how things were turning out, Draco decided to (quite literally) pull out his trump card — what was sure to win her over.

Reaching into his robes, he deftly produced a trimmed rose stem with a small rosebud. With a bit of magic, the rosebud grew and grew before it began to unravel. Orbs of light floated out of the rose, bathing the room with a sea of soft, shimmering hues.

He had the full attention of all the students in the space now. Even Crabbe and Goyle had their eyes glazed and their jaws slightly agape at the pretty sight.

"Greengrass…" Draco began, kneeling slowly while holding out the rose in a rare display of his vulnerability. "I know we've never been particularly close, and maybe I haven't always given you the best impression of me… but I've come to realize that we have more in common than I thought, and I'd really like to get to know you better…"

A shimmering glow had enveloped the roses' petals now,

"Please, just give me one chance to change your mind and the honour of being your date to the Yule Ball."

Like deer in headlights, everyone but Draco was wide-eyed at the development. Even Crabbe and Goyle, who weren't aware that they were attending a confession, seemed dumbstruck at his abrupt confession.

Stuck in silence, they were in obvious confusion at how many steps had been skipped for things to have even gotten here.

Tracey was the first to break the silence.

"What —the fuck— is happening?" She looked like she'd just seen two Seekers collide head-on at full speed — a mix of giddy shock and horrified entertainment plastered across her face as she beheld the sight before her.

Unblinking, Daphne just held her wide-eyed stare at the kneeling Draco.

"I'm asking you…" he was staring Daphne directly in the eyes, "...out to the Yule Ball."

The rose with the pretty lights…

His heartfelt confession…

The moment of vulnerability…

To many of the girls in school, it might have been enough… but not Daphne Greengrass.

Eventually, her impassive expression slowly curdled up like aged milk. Brows knitted, eyes narrowed, lips pursed, and nose wrinkled, her face had transformed into one of pure cringe.

Torn between horrified and embarrassed, she stuck her palm out at him, wordlessly imploring him to stop.

"No, absolutely not!" Behind the heat building in her face, her reply was snappy and instant. "Not even if Merlin himself returned and begged on your behalf!"

Draco was indignant at the rejection. His increasing desperation quickly swung back to frustration.

"Why?!" He stood back up, the rose crumpling in his trembling, clenched fist. The remaining luminescent orbs in the air flickered and vanished. Beams of light sputtered and flashed through the thin gaps between his fingers, flickering slowly out of existence as the rose was crushed."We are the best that Slytherin has to offer! ME! YOU! With our combined status, wealth, and magic, we could have everything in Hogwarts!"

"Are you utterly mad?" Daphne stood in her seat and picked up her belongings. "Is that all that drove you to ask me? It wasn't even out of genuine interest?"

She didn't sound hurt — just incredibly baffled at his logic.

"It's sheer sensibility!" He snarled. "You're making a mistake, Greengrass! You're letting the chance of a secure future slip out of your hands!"

"Have some shame, Draco. You've lost your mind if you think I'd ever go out with someone so shallow I couldn't even drown in them." Daphne was already making her way towards the door. She stopped long enough to spit her final thoughts at him. "Performing a flashy confession in public just so you can fix your image? You're not fooling anyone with that flimsy facade."

Tracey was still sitting on the bench when Daphne strode out of the room with her head held high. She turned to Draco, who looked like he was about to start foaming at the mouth, and offered what little of her compassion she had for him.

"Cheer up, Draco—"

"It's still 'Malfoy' to you," Draco corrected through a clenched jaw.

"—at least ye can sleep at night knowing ye never stood a chance."

"What?! Why?" he huffed, and for the second time today, he was met with a look that regarded him like he was an idiot.

"Because she already has a boyfriend, duh."

That sentence struck him like the final nail in the coffin.

The revelation that she was already taken felt like a Dementor had just gripped his soul, leaving him visibly shaken. The life seemed to leave him all at once, as days' worth of effort had been rendered useless even before that horribly botched execution.

Still defeated even after taking a moment to reorient himself, he asked Tracey haggardly, "...Who is it?"

From across the table, she threw her legs over the bench and brushed her robes off as she stood.

"He's in our year. Ya might know him. Goes by Nunya, if that rings a bell?" she said, helpfully.

"Nunya?" Draco tried to put a face to the name but found it impossible to. He didn't recall such a name. "I don't—"

Tracey jumped up and leaned over the table until she was casting a heavy shadow upon him. With her lips pulled back in a nasty grin, she leered at him with great satisfaction.

"Nunya Business, wanker!"

With that disparaging bit of vicious mockery, she too was gone — her raucous laughter echoing behind her, relishing at his despair.

As his visions of him flaunting Daphne in front of a weeping, curled-up Harry Potter went up in smoke, Draco finally exploded in a fit of berserk rage.

"GRRAAAHH!" With a wrathful cry, he slammed his hands against the table and flipped the bench over. Crabbe and Goyle just watched awkwardly as their gaunt leader took his frustrations out on the room.

It wasn't a very threatening sight, but his tantrum was still making quite a mess.

He kicked another bench over and scattered a heap of loose scrolls off the table with a sweep of his arms. Inkpots smashed against the floor, black ink splattering and staining the stone. Dozens of quills were sent spiralling into the air as if a spontaneous pillow fight had just erupted, ultimately drifting into the ink that had now pooled around his shoes.

After a few more moments, Draco's rampage finally came to an end. Huffing and puffing, he stood amidst the chaos, hands tightly gripping the table. He angrily eyed the remaining students, and they hurriedly picked up their belongings before rushing out of the room. They didn't want to be on the receiving end of his fury.

Before Draco could even do anything more, a throat cleared sternly behind him.

Madam Pince had materialised in the space behind him, her arms crossed and a deep scowl twisting her face. She glared at him so hard from behind her glasses that even Crabbe and Goyle wilted.

"Fifty points from Slytherin and a week of detention for your unseemly conduct and for making a mess of my study hall, Mr Malfoy."

Completely defeated, Draco slumped his shoulders, shut his eyes, and sighed. He didn't even want to think about the ramifications of today's failures.

All he could manage out was a quiet 'thank you' that someone had finally used his last name.

*O*O*O*

The next morning, the two made a hasty exit from the Slytherin dungeons in an effort not to bump into Draco.

They walked in silence, slowing down only when they were far enough.

"So… are we gonna talk about it?"

"No."

"Can we?"

"Hmm..." Daphne paused; a consideration done just for show. Then a bit more insistent than before, "No."

"But we didn't talk about it the whole of last night," whined Tracey.

"I'm aware. I was there." Daphne rolled her eyes before she frowned a little, trying to recall last night. "Actually, didn't you leave for a bit?"

"Yeah, I had to go feed my owl." A small smirk was tacked onto her quick response.

It was obviously a lie, but ultimately innocuous.

"Right…" Daphne shrugged it off. It wasn't any of her business what Tracey got up to in her own time.

Tracey continued, much more exasperatedly. "As I was saying… by not discussing it, I effectively restrained myself — like a chained animal!" She tilted her head back and laid the back of her palm over her forehead in a dramatic display of exhaustion. "It was a truly monumental task, one deserving of praise—"

"Let's not start getting too drastic now…" Daphne muttered sarcastically.

"—because ya know how much I love gossip…"

"Your most deplorable aspect, yes."

"Aww, come on. Surely, ya have some thoughts about Mr Lover-Boy's display yesterday."

If she could, Tracey would have gotten down on one knee and imitated Draco's kneel. Instead, she settled for pretending to pull out a small box from inside her robes. Brandishing it out, she made a grand show of cracking it open towards Daphne, retrieving an invisible ring from inside, and holding it out to her with her index finger and thumb.

Daphne swatted her hand away lightly, causing Tracey to open her hand up and drop her imaginary ring.

With her hands on her head, she exclaimed, "Oi, woman! That was, like, six months of my salary!"

Her cries were ignored as Daphne levelled an outstretched finger at her.

"Don't call him that ever again," she warned sternly, though it did appear as if she were trying hard not to smile at Tracey's silly antics. "And I do have thoughts — and had a horrible nightmare about it." Daphne rubbed her temples with a frown. "You were there too, pestering me with the same incessant questions."

Tracey smiled at Daphne's response. She knew that a quiet Daphne was far more dangerous than one who bothered to entertain her antics. So, even with her grumpy disposition, Daphne was doing fine.

Tracey chose this moment to slip an arm around Daphne's shoulder. She pulled her best friend close to her the same way Harry did.

"Good to know that even with a boyfriend, you still dream of me."

"Oh, shut up."

Tracey let her go, giggling at her reaction.

"Word sure does travel fast though. I already heard Knott talking about it with his pals just now," Tracey said as they ascended another flight of stairs. They hadn't seen Draco since last evening as he likely retreated to his room in shame, but had overheard whisperings of the incident amongst their housemates this morning as they left.

"The whole school is going to hear of it soon enough."

"Right? Who knows who else might have already heard of it." Tracey said it in a tone that implied she already knew of others, but Daphne wasn't too keen on asking. It was embarrassing enough just keeping it to herself. "And I didn't even have to do much heavy lifting this time."

It was true. Most of their housemates couldn't keep their mouths shut over such a juicy piece of information.

While Draco might have influence over most of them, the majority weren't going to hesitate to slip a knife into his back while it was turned if it meant knocking him down a few pegs.

"I can't believe he made himself out to be such a fool in front of so many people." Daphne shook her head in disbelief. Draco could have just as easily cornered her someplace quiet and done the same spiel, but he obviously did it in front of a small crowd on purpose. "He really must be getting desperate."

"I wonder what he's gonna do next to make himself look worse. Should we take bets?"

"Let's just hope it doesn't involve me again."

"Oh, I can't wait to see the look on your face when it does," Tracey clapped excitedly, ignoring the mild annoyance radiating off of her best friend.

*O*O*O*

Entering the Clubhouse to wait for their morning lessons to start, they were surprised to find their Gryffindor counterparts already there.

Neville and Harry had their wands out by their sides, in the middle of a discussion at the training mats, while Hermione was sitting on the loveseat, a book cracked open in her clutches.

They all exchanged greetings and hugs before Daphne asked why they were up so early.

"Neville wanted to get some training in," Harry said as he adjusted his rolled-up sleeves.

"Harry's teaching me to cast and dodge today," Neville wiped the sweat off his chin with the back of his palm. "I'm getting the hang of it!"

"And Hermione's… well, you know, Hermione."

"Books are best read in daylight," she declared to the rest. Even though the thick clouds filled the skies, the sunlight still bathed the room in a gentle yellow glow. "What about you two? Isn't it still a bit bright for you two to be up and about?"

"That's because I have something special today!" she beckoned them close, her voice now imitating that of an old, mysterious witch. "Gather 'round, children, for I have a gripping tale —which you may already have heard— involving the rotten schemer Draco, her Highness Greengrass, and yours truly…"

Tracey launched into an animated retelling of yesterday's events, her obvious excitement making it clear just how thrilled she was to finally share this juicy bit of gossip with an eager audience.

Not keen on having to relive the rather embarrassing event again, especially in front of Harry, Daphne made her way over to the wide windows and away from the conversation. She sat on one end of the bench Neville used when tending to his plants.

Harry spied on her out of the corner of his eye. Surrounded by plants and with the light upon her, she looked like one of nature's enchantingly beautiful dryads.

A while later, he made his way over to her.

He slid snugly into the empty spot beside her. It was a little uncomfortable squeezing themselves onto the small bench, but any sort of momentary discomfort was worth bearing so long as the other was around.

"Not going to listen to the rest of her version of events?" she asked, still gazing out of the window. Harry regarded her for a moment then glanced over his shoulder.

Behind them, Tracey had gripped the attention of the other two with her… exaggerated tale.

"—and then I said, 'Quit suckin' on yer daddy's teat, Draco!' and then told him to stick it up his arse! Ah, ya should've seen the look on his face!"

"Was he crying?"

"She's obviously lying, Neville. There is not a chance any of that happened."

Based on the way the two Gryffindors were clutching the throw pillows to their chests, it seemed they were enthralled by the outlandish tale — regardless of how fictionalised it was.

"Yer doubting the firsthand account of a key witness, Granger? Honestly, what would I gain from lying?" Tracey continued without missing a beat. "Anyway, after that his lackies started advancing on me. So, I got my wand out — and I just started blastin'…!"

Harry turned back to Daphne with a very amused smile.

"I think I got the gist of it… Do you think he'll do something stupid to get revenge?"

She answered his question with another question.

"Didn't his father try to kill you with a cursed diary two years ago? And then again because you freed Dobby?"

"Hm, good point. If he's anything like his father, he won't be seeing much success."

"…You're not upset?"

"Should I be?" Harry raised his brow, uncertain. "No harm was done, right? I might not like him one bit, but he's clearly got good taste." He said, teasing her with a grin and a slight nudge.

Daphne would have scoffed in response, but she did find this oddly reminiscent of the conversation with Hermione about other girls liking Harry. So instead, she cracked a smile and said, "Don't praise him too much. I think he saw me as more of an accessory."

"We all know you'd be the one wearing him instead. And I have to admit, I think you'd look rather striking with a…" he began to mimic slipping an invisible garment around his shoulder and neck, "uh, whatchamacallit."

"A scarf?" she offered helpfully with a snicker. "A shawl?"

"Right, a shawl!" he nodded, "A nice blond ferret shawl."

'Merlin, no." Daphne stuck her tongue out playfully at the implication. "I am not wearing a transfigured, skinned rat."

They shared a chuckle at the grim thought while he joined her in staring out the window.

"Ah… and just what will you be wearing?" It was clear he was doing his best to be subtle about it, as his voice was now trying hard to be low, polite, and suave.

Daphne smirked and said, "Don't be greedy, Harry. You haven't even asked me out yet and you're already trying to spoil the surprise."

"Well, then…" he slowly snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, "do you happen to have a partner yet, ma'am?"

Playing along, she cleared her throat, took on a dainty, classier tone, and turned slightly to face him. "Watch that arm, mister. I might not have one just yet, but that's because I'm still waiting on my darling to ask me…"

"How awful of him," he repeatedly clucked his tongue in disappointment. "What's his issue? He shouldn't keep a gorgeous, intelligent woman like you waiting."

"Hn. He really shouldn't." Crossing her arms, she harrumphed softly and pouted at him.

After a moment, she uncrossed them and made him turn with her so that the bench was now between their legs, and they were both facing each other. Then, she carefully brushed Harry's growing fringe away from his glasses. Her fingertips tickled his forehead, grazing his skin as she began faintly tracing the outline of his scar.

"But my darling Harry has been working himself down to the bone these last few weeks. He even got himself hurt so badly that it nearly scared me half to death."

Hearing just how much he had worried her, Harry could only muster a tiny, pained smirk.

"To death, you say?" he muttered, tutting disapprovingly as if disappointed with her choice in partner. "What a terrible fellow."

Head downturned, his attention was on her other hand in his lap, which he idly toyed with as she brushed his hair. He felt a strong sense of safety in this position, but also so, so small. Even though he had never experienced such a childhood, her touch felt nostalgic and motherly… like he was a young boy again.

Daphne lowered her hand to his chin. Tilting it up, she made him meet her gaze.

"No, and don't you dare say that about him." She disagreed firmly. She made it clear that this was a topic she refused to budge on by gripping the fabric of his robes around his chest and pulling him close. "He isn't terrible. Not. One. Bit."

Her words were accompanied by little actions. A caress of his cheek. The fluttering of her eyelids. A sharp exhale at the end.

"Even when he was running himself ragged, he still made sure he had the time for me. For his friends. He put on a strong face for all of us so that we wouldn't worry about him. I can't name another man who has given as much of himself as he does."

"I'm no man…" he protested, albeit weakly.

"Maybe not literally," she hummed, "but you certainly exemplify the traits of one — more than some could ever hope to."

There was an edge to her tone, and Harry chuckled knowing full well who she was referring to.

The gaze behind her half-lidded eyes was so soft and sweet —brimming with so much love and pride— that he felt like a crumbling heap of ash. His heart felt like it was trying to skip rope between his ribs, and his face burned at the way she lingered on his features.

Fuck the dragon. Trying to stay calm while she was staring so intimately at him was a thousand times harder.

With the two of them perched on the tiny bench, Harry had to be content just holding her close to him.

"I suppose when you're born with 'nothing', you come to cherish your 'everything's'." Thinking of the Dursleys, Harry nuzzled his nose into her hair. She giggled at the sensation. "Thank you, Daphne."

"You're welcome, Harry." Daphne returned the favour by resting her head against him.

They stayed like that for a while longer, just sitting there quietly while they tuned in to Tracey's story.

Now she was telling the other two about how Crabbe and Goyle had transformed themselves into dragons with the help of Polyjuice potions, all to protect their master's honour.

Tracey stomped about with her arms splayed out, flapping them slowly to imitate wings. Meanwhile, she was craning her neck about while roaring silently at the floor and her audience as if emulating the act of breathing fire.

From afar, she looked more like a chicken afflicted with madness. But it seemed Neville and Hermione were having quite a good time given the small applause they were providing to her performance.

"They're having fun," commented Harry, smiling as the two started asking for encores.

"You should have seen her yesterday. She was having the time of her life riling Draco up."

"I can believe it. Wish I could've been there to see the look on his face," he joked.

Daphne snorted. "It certainly wasn't pretty, and I'm afraid it's going to stick with me for the rest of my life."

"Then you might hate what I'm about to do next."

In one smooth motion, Harry swung himself off the bench. His robes billowed behind him as he turned abruptly. Then, just like Draco had done, he took a knee slowly and knelt before Daphne.

It seemed that Draco hadn't traumatised her enough as she made no indication of being bothered by Harry's kneeling. In fact, she felt her breath hitch as the rest of the room dissolved away, leaving nothing behind but the kneeling Harry.

As carefully as he would handle a piece of priceless art, Harry took her left hand into both his hands. He ran a thumb gently over the surface of her knuckles, stopping just over her ring finger.

With great confidence, Harry could already imagine them recreating this scene again in a few more years — albeit this time he'd be slipping an elegant, silver ring, topped with pretty emeralds, onto this same finger.

With all the sincerity he could, Harry gently kissed the back of her palm before raising his head to look her in the eye once more.

"Daphne Greengrass… you've shown me a world I never dreamed I'd ever get to experience. Since the day we met, you've been the sun to my moon. You shorten the long, dark nights while making my days shine brighter. I can't imagine a life without you, and frankly… I'm starting to think it might be impossible to."

Daphne might have covered her mouth with her free hand, but her eyes said enough. Bright and blue, they shimmered the way sunlight danced on a tranquil ocean, glistening from happiness.

"Daphne Greengrass, would you do me the honour of accepting my company to the Yule Ball?"

A genuine profession of his love to her. This was the furthest possibility from a joke or an act, and whatever cringe-induced trauma left by Draco had been completely wiped away.

Before she could answer, there was the sound of rumbling as the plants began to rattle the racks they rested on. Dozens and dozens of clay pots shook and clattered loudly against each other and the steel of the racks. Like a dozen birds taking flight, their leaves shuddered and fluttered noisily about too. They were so jostled so intensely that quite a bit were even shaken loose.

Harry rose, sweeping an arm across Daphne and positioning himself protectively in front of her. Daphne watched while clinging to his back, her wand already in hand and ready to cast Protego.

Urged by a wave of unseen magic, the pots started sprouting buds in droves. Hundreds of shoots sprouted from branches and stems, spawning a sea of unopened flowers.

Moments later, they all bloomed rapidly — and explosively.

Petals of reds, yellows, blues and pinks were blasted into the air around them, each flower making a soft 'poof!' as they ejected all their petals.

Illuminated by the morning sun that had just broken through the clouds, Harry and Daphne looked like they were surrounded by vibrant snowfall — a beautiful, fragrant sight.

It was a marvellous experience, one that left Daphne visibly awestruck as she looked around, taking in the sight all around her. Harry looked a little surprised too, but he kept his attention on her still.

"W—What's going—?!" Daphne finally glanced back down at him, her wand hanging loosely in her hand. "Harry, did you plan this?!"

"Yes," he looked very proud, and rightfully so. "But I had lots of help."

He nodded past Daphne, and she turned to see the other three grinning like fools and waving back at her with their wands in their hands.

Her jaw hung ajar. "All of you were in it?! How did you even have the time to—?"

"I told ya that word travels fast."

Daphne's head snapped over to a very smug Tracey, and the final piece of the puzzle fit into place perfectly.

Last night, Tracey had told them.

"You liar!" Daphne gasped in shock and pointed her wand accusatorially at Tracey. Her friend returned the gesture by cheekily sticking her tongue out.

When she slipped out last night, she had actually gone and told the rest what had happened. Then Harry had gotten all of their help in executing this surprise.

Tracey supplied the information, Harry planned the surprise, Neville sacrificed the flowers he'd been cultivating, and Hermione helped put it all together with their magic.

So touched by their efforts, Daphne's tears welled up again in appreciation.

"Thank you," she sniffled, "all of you. This was beautiful. I… I won't ever forget this."

They all blushed at her thanks, each waving it off with varying degrees of self-consciousness. It was a little flustering seeing the most well-put-together member of their group cry, even if out of joy.

"So, Green Queen…" Harry squeezed her hand softly, bringing her back to him. "Will that be a yes?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Oh, a thousand times 'yes', Harry!" she flung herself at him, squealing the same way her sister did as a laughing Harry spun her around and around in his arms. "I'd love that very much!"

The two were kicking up the fallen petals in their wake as they spun around in circles. Meanwhile, their friends cheered the couple on, firing small fireworks overhead in celebration.

The two eventually slowed, with Harry lowering her back down to the ground. Her beaming smile was still clearly visible even with most of her face hidden behind her messy, ruffled hair. While the two giggled like kids, he helped her brush it back into place. His fingers lingered on her face as if trying to imprint every sense into his memory.

The smell of the flowers. The reflection of the fireworks in her bright, beautiful eyes. The sound of her tinkling laughter. The deep warmth that emanated from her scarlet face.

Behind them, Hermione sighed at the sight, feeling a little jealousy of the pair's happiness.

"They've set the bar high, haven't they…?"

"Agreed," Tracey leaned on her, also sighing. "It's a real pretty sight, but I'd be happy with something simple. Right, Nevs?"

Her eyes lingered on Neville for a moment, and he immediately froze up like he'd been hit with the petrification charm — à la Medusa.

"Hm—Huh?" Neville blinked a few times before nodding, his movements stiff and clunky. He answered her with his tongue tied, stuttering over himself like before. "Y—Yeah. Uh, I'm not sure. I agree, I think…"

Tracey's brow knitted together when he said nothing more, his attention now completely welded to Harry and Daphne.

She frowned a little, not completely certain as to why she felt a little sting in her chest. Perhaps it was how he'd brushed her off, or that he was acting so stiffly around her and this topic… or something.

Whatever. She didn't know. Or care.

…

Really. She didn't.

…

…

Drop it. Seriously.

Tracey joined him in clamming up, pursing her lips tightly in not-annoyance. And though she didn't care even the slightest, her gaze still drifted back to him more often than she'd admit.

Luckily, everyone else seemed undisturbed by the slight tension between the two.

Harry guided Daphne back over to their friends, her hand in his. "By the way, Daphne, there's still one more important thing we have to do in school today."

Her features scrunched up as she thought hard about it.

Try as she might, she couldn't think of an answer.

"There is?"

"Of course. Want to make a guess?"

"I'll pass. Today's surprise was more than enough for me," she smiled, crossed her arms, and looked at him expectantly.

"It's not so much of a surprise for us than it is for everyone else," he said with a small shrug. "I'm just finally getting the opportunity to show you off to the rest of the world."

It took a second, but his words had her heart fluttering in her chest as butterflies rose from her stomach. Daphne couldn't contain the smile —nor the deep, crimson blush— that had spread across her face at the prospect of finally unveiling the secret.

At long last, they'd be able to act as a couple around school. And while there was no need for any more subterfuge or lying, they'd undoubtedly be the talk of the school with all eyes on them.

A tingling, nerve-wracking excitement crawled up her spine at finally being able to be seen with Harry. Not because they would be the topic of conversation, but because it meant that she could express her love to him for more hours of the day! This newfound efficiency was truly exhilarating!

Nervous and excited, she still managed to crack a joke.

"Not as an accessory, I hope."

"We both know you're the one wearing me." That response elicited a giggle from his girlfriend. With a gentle smile, he held his arm out for her to take. "Now… shall we?"

She smiled as she linked her arm around his. As Harry opened the door for them, Daphne turned around to give the room one more look.

She couldn't believe how far they'd come. Their plans, ambitions, and friends had all converged together to create this little home away from home…

And today, everything seemed just a bit brighter.

"Yes," she finally answered, breathily. "Let's."

*O*O*O*

Chapter 15: End

*O*O*O*

A/N:

I've been gone a while! My longest hiatus yet, sorry! But during that time I was still writing quite a bit. I can tell based on the fact that I had my condolences to Maggie Smith written the day she passed, which was last September. And it's almost February already so... yeah. My bad. Along with my usual health issues, I've been trying my hand at other creative fields while tackling my writer's block hence the slowed output.

Be forewarned that the next chapter does have some measure of physical violence on a few of the characters as I delve into a bit of drama.

Also, as usual, I totally misjudged when the steamy scene was going to happen based on the events in canon but give it some time. It'll likely be after the Yule Ball, which I'm steadily chipping my way over to (hopefully in two chapters).

I might be releasing smaller, more contained chapters to increase my posting of the series in the future. I'll see how that goes as I'm quite used to writing and posting long chapters. Just something for me to consider.

And thank you to 'mattias thunberg' for your recent review. Yes! I totally understand it's weird that they haven't had their first real kiss yet. And yes, I'm well aware that this chapter was a perfect opportunity for them to do so.

I don't really have an actual explanation other than I:

1) already had an idea framed for them to do so during the Yule Ball over a dozen chapters ago.
2) got a little bored and wanted them to kiss (without actually kissing).

As I was writing this chapter, I also wanted to explore their excitement over the idea of 'being able to finally share their secret' more than a 'moment for a kiss on the lips'. Please just accept it as a weird couple's quirk (and my terrible writing)

That's about it. If you're interested in seeing a fic idea I came up with while writing this chapter, please read ahead. If not, thank you for your time and see you in the next chapter!

Story Idea (for Adoption):

Encased in Ice — (An 'Ice Queen' themed story)

Basic summary: During the Triwizard Tournament, Daphne Greengrass becomes the Champion of Durmstrang. Of British and Bulgarian descent, she finally returns to her birthplace for the first time since her British father's passing. She learns UK/English culture from Harry, who is assigned to her as a fellow champion as part of a 'cultivating diplomatic relations' program.

Meant to be a slice-of-life-ish/romanc. Between Harry and a girl with a tough, no-nonsense exterior, who has a soft, fair, and gentle side. Or not. Up to you, really!

If you're writing this, please let me know! I'd be happy to share more ideas and read it!