"Father, I thought the floo was connected directly to the ballroom?" Daphne asked as she looked around in confusion.
They had emerged in the atrium. The Fountain of Magical Brethren, which she'd always thought was an eyesore, looked marginally better as it was now, under much dimmer lighting. At first, she thought they were alone, but as she looked around, she saw others milling about. They were all well-dressed purebloods, and they seemed to be converging on the fountain.
Her father had her left hand nestled in the crook of his elbow, and he shifted it slightly as he sent her a look of mild disdain. "Since when have you been one to question me, daughter?"
Daphne's eyes widened before she regained her composure. "My apologies, father."
He grunted before looking ahead, Daphne kept her eyes fixed ahead as they walked towards the fountain. As they drew nearer, Daphne saw that there was a small line that wrapped around the side. That left her even more confused as they came to a stop behind an older woman who was holding a big, boxy purse with both hands.
"Ah, Lord Greengrass, what a pleasant surprise!" The woman said, offering her father the fakest, most predatory smile Daphne had ever seen. "This is your eldest, then?"
Daphne felt as if she was being appraised, like a prized hippogriff being scrutinized for imperfections. Even with her upbringing, it took quite a bit of effort not to squirm under the woman's hawk-like gaze.
"Madam Rutherford, it is a pleasure." Paul reached out and gently grasped her gloved hand, giving it a kiss.
It took her a moment, but Daphne soon recalled the name. Madam Rutherford wrote for Forever Pure, the premier society rag for those who still followed the old ways. In particular, she was known for her betrothal rankings, which were updated monthly. She had three separate lists: one for eligible bachelors, one for prospective brides and another for betrothed couples. Pureblood women loved to gossip about such lists. Daphne's mother still proudly displayed a framed clipping from when she and her father had been ranked third.
"Good height, good posture… give us a smile, dear." Daphne frowned, but one look from her father told her she didn't have a choice. She gave the woman something closer to a grimace than a smile. "Good teeth, very pretty. You are one to look out for! You should be very grateful, girl. Your father is introducing you at a very advantageous age, you will have quite the leg up on your competition."
Daphne wanted to squirm. She smiled instead. "Thank you."
The line began to move, and Daphne was finally able to see that there was a set of winding steps circling downward around the statue. As they walked, they twisted around a pillar of white marble that led them further underground, until they finally emerged onto a grand ballroom.
It was vast, covering about the same space as the atrium above. Up on the ceiling, there was a fountain directly underneath the one above. It was a statue of a very menacing looking fish, its gaping mouth ready to swallow them whole as water burst out from it and fell upward into the fountain.
There were a bunch of people gathered by either side of the entrance. Daphne recognized quite a few older girls and boys that she'd seen in passing at Hogwarts.
By the entryway, a portly man with a mustache held his hand out. Her father handed him an envelope, their invitation, and the man opened it.
"Introducing the honorable Lord Paul Greengrass. Making her debut, his daughter, Daphne Greengrass!"
Everyone around them clapped and her father smiled proudly as he pulled Daphne in to join the crowd. She could feel the many leering gazes of the boys on her, along with jealous looks from the girls.
Daphne stared fixedly at the floor as more people flowed in and were introduced, letting her mind drift as she cherished the few precious moments where she could just be silent.
That precious time slipped by rather quickly, though, and soon, everyone had arrived, the man by the door cleared his throat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the seven-hundred-thirty-first debutante ball has commenced!"
A slight panic set in for her as everyone began to shuffle around. The bachelors and their fathers joined the mothers as they went to stand by the far wall.
To open the ball, the maidens danced with their fathers. Her father led her to the center of the room, and a slow waltz began to play. She let her training take over as they glided through steps that had been rehearsed so many times they were second nature. Her father led her around, and were it not for the circumstances, Daphne might have actually enjoyed the moment. She was wearing a beautiful dress, in a beautiful ballroom, and it felt good to be in her father's arms, considering how little he'd held her since she'd been a little girl.
But it was all spoiled by the oppressive weight she felt on her shoulders, the dread that filled her so completely, that feeling that threatened to paralyze her if she ever stopped moving.
The applause let her know that the dance had ended. People streamed out onto the floor, along with a small army of house elves carrying silver trays filled with food and drink.
It took no time at all for men to begin approaching her and her father.
A tall, middle aged man with sandy brown hair was the first to shake her father's hand. "Paul! Haven't lost a step there, have you? Though I'm afraid all eyes were on your lovely partner." He smiled at her in a way that made her stomach turn.
"Sheldon." Her father acknowledged the man. "And this is the young heir Selwyn?"
"Indeed." Sheldon said as an equally tall, stick-thin young man stepped up, eyes focused solely on Daphne. "Young Sterling here received three O.W.L.s, and he's to take over the family business once he graduates."
Paul hummed, pretending to be impressed by a paltry three owls. Selwyn did not get much more time to make his sales pitch, since it seemed like there was an avalanche of potential suitors and their fathers jockeying for position to gain Daphne's attention.
Her father seemed very pleased with himself, and the only silver lining Daphne could see was that there would be so many offers, her father couldn't possibly settle on one tonight.
She was bombarded by many different voices, each vying to gain her attention, both fathers and sons talking over each other in their attempts to boast.
"Like sharks circling in ze water, zey are."
The voice cut through the crowd, silencing them all as her father's ears perked up, and he raised his head.
"Lord Dupont! Fancy seeing you on the other side of the channel."
The Frenchman chuckled. He was tall, with a grey beard to go along with well-styled grey hair that left him looking like the textbook image of a silver fox. He had an arm around a younger man, his son, who was even taller than him, and even broader-shoulders. He had a handsome, chiseled face, with blue eyes and light brown hair that was causing all the other girls at the ball to swoon.
The crowd parted, the others grumbling in defeat as Jules Dupont and his son, Alain, introduced themselves to the Greengrasses.
Daphne didn't know much about foreign houses, but it was impossible not to know of Jules Dupont, one of the few remnants of the pre-revolution French nobility, and by far the richest man in all of Europe.
Daphne politely held Alain's gaze. He looked to be in his early twenties, and was looking down at her with a cool confidence that the others had lacked.
"In France, ze old ways are all but dead, zey do not believe in courtship anymore."
Paul shook his head in disdain. "The same is happening in England."
Jules nodded. "Alain was attending a dueling tournament here, and so we decided to come along."
"Dueling tournament?" Daphne perked up slightly. She'd never had any interest in dueling, she'd never been allowed to, but ever since the incident with the troll, there had been a little inkling of an interest. A passing curiosity, nothing more.
"Of course." Alain said, taking the opportunity to flash her a bright smile that showed off his pearly white teeth, "Eet was an under-21 invitational. I won handily, of course, zey were no match."
His father smiled proudly while Daphne's father looked more and more impressed by the second. "Alain ees a prodigy, 'e will soon be a star in zee senior circuit." Despite herself, Daphne found herself a bit curious, and she thought she might ask Alain a bit about his dueling experience.
"What are you doing, boy?!"
The loud yell drew everyone's attention to the entrance, where the man who had made the announcements was red-faced, glaring down at a raven haired boy.
"I have an invitation, sir!" He said cheerfully as he shoved the crumpled up envelope in the man's chest.
Daphne's father scoffed. "Is this some sort of joke?"
Alain laughed along. "It must be. Zose hideous pink glasses, zose bizarre shoes, and-" The young man flinched back in offense. "Heees robes are on backwards."
Paul tutted. "Let's hope he gets escorted away quickly."
Daphne, meanwhile, was frozen in place. For the first time, she felt something other than dread as she stared at the boy who was fiddling his fingers nervously as the portly old man opened his letter. She felt a low, simmering rage.
The old man tore open the envelope and fished out the invitation, his eyes bugging out as he scanned the paper. "Heir Longbottom?! You are not the Boy-Who-Lived!"
Everyone's attention was well and truly on them now as the man leveled his accusation. Daphne watched as Harry ran a hand through his messy hair and smiled in that infuriating manner of his.
"Well, no, I'm not, but he gave me his invitation. And I'm an heir too! I'm Harry Potter!"
Murmurs of 'Potter' spread through the ballroom. It wasn't exactly a revered name, since the Potters had forsaken the old ways several generations prior.
The old man looked like he was ready to kick Harry out, when peals of snooty laughter swooped in to make the save.
Madam Rutherford had strolled over, cigarette holder on her lips as she shot Harry a bemused smile. "Why don't you let the boy in, Bardus?"
"Madam?" Bardus gawped in indignation.
"He can be a nice little sideshow. Tell me boy, would you help me write an article? About the contrast between those that come from proper breeding, and those that don't?" Her voice had a mocking, sarcastic bite to it.
Harry smiled appreciatively at the lady that had helped him out. "Sure thing, ma'am… err… my penmanship's not that great, though."
"No worries. Why don't you get yourself something to eat?"
"Gee, thanks!"
Whispers followed the boy as he trailed after one of the house elves carrying snacks.
Paul shook his head in disdain. "And to think our house was once allied to theirs. Never again, I'm afraid."
Lord Dupont waved him off. "Do not let zat boy concern you, Paul. Why don't we find a more quiet place for our conversation? Perhaps your daughter can keep my son company?"
Paul smiled. "Lovely idea. Daphne, keep the youn- Daphne? Daphne! Return this very instant!"
His daughter was well within earshot, and yet she wasn't obeying. Daphne's mind was on a single track, and she did not care one bit as people watched her march her way over to Harry.
"What do you think you're doing?!" She hissed.
"Hi Daff!" Harry said as he chewed on some mini mince pies. "Just having some snacks, I forgot to eat again today."
Daphne wasn't having it. "No, I mean what do you think you're doing by coming here?"
Harry shrugged innocently. "I know how down you've been, so I wanted to be here for you."
"There is nothing you can do to make this situation better. You will only make it worse." She was unaware of just how loudly she was speaking, and how she was once again the center of attention for the entire ball.
"Daphne, what is the meaning of this?!"
Daphne blanched. In her rage, she'd completely forgotten about her father, who was angrily walking over, followed by the Duponts.
Her father's calculating eyes jumped between Daphne and Harry. Harry adjusted his glasses and tried to stand up straight as he bowed his head to him."Hi there, Mr. Greengrass, I'm Harry Potter."
Paul looked at Harry's extended hand as if it were a venomous snake. "And how exactly do you know my daughter?"
"Oh well, she's my assistant!"
"Assistant!?"
You could hear a pin drop as Paul's rage seemed to skyrocket with each passing second.
"Father, please-"
"Yeah, she's brilliant at it, too. I'm a scientist." Harry explained.
"Scientist? What in Merlin's name is that?"
"Do not let zis buffoon get ze better of you, Monsieur Greengrass." Alain said, coming up with full confidence and placing his hand on Daphne's shoulder. "A beautiful mademoiselle such as her would not associate with such rubbish. You are nozzin but a delusional leetle boy."
Harry frowned as he saw how uncomfortable Daphne became when Alain touched her.
"Scientist… zat is some muggle term, oui? Only more proof that you do not belong here, enfant." Alain chuckled disdainfully as the crowd of onlookers laughed along with him.
"I'm sorry, who are you?" Harry asked.
"I am Alain Dupont, champion duelist and heir to the Dupont fortune." He said proudly.
Harry looked quite impressed, and he shocked everyone by reaching out and grasping Alain's hand with both of his, shaking it vigorously. "Wow, that's really impressive! You know, I think Daphne would make a great duelist. She's a natural."
Daphne's eyes widened slightly as she looked at Harry. Alain sneered as he snatched his hand back, adjusting the very expensive wristwatch that Harry had placed his hand over. "You embarrass yourself further with each passing moment. Women do not belong in the dueling ring, and especially not a vision of beauty such as Miss Greengrass."
Alain looked down at Daphne, and she saw it all in his covetous eyes. "She will be well taken care of, a proper 'ousewife. And I do intend to ask for her hand, Monsieur Greengrass."
Paul smiled right back at Alain, not at all displeased with the man's words.
Harry wore a contemplative look, a look that Daphne had grown to be very familiar with.
"What if I challenge you for it?"
"Challenge me?"
"Yeah, like, to a duel. Winner gets Daphne's hand."
Everyone around them gasped, and Madam Rutherford actually giggled. "Oh my! A betrothal duel! We haven't had one of those in over a century!"
"Have you lost your mind, boy?!" Paul yelled. But Harry didn't hear him, he was looking at the Madam. "So wait, it's actually a tradition?"
The woman nodded. "It is, boy. It used to be quite common in the olden days, but it has fallen out of favor since the Gaunt heir was killed in one back in eighteen-fifty."
"Cool! So, what do you say?" Harry asked Alain.
In another setting, Daphne would have already been yelling at Harry for being such an idiot. As brilliant as he was, Harry was not the best with a wand in his hand. Nowhere near. She doubted he could beat most of their classmates in a straight up duel, much less a twenty year old, champion duelist.
But she was forced to keep quiet as her father spoke. "Boy, you have truly lost your mind. Why would I ever agree to such a ludicrous challenge?"
"I mean, it's the old ways, right? And you guys love those."
Rutherford sighed wistfully. "It would be quite thrilling. We might finally outsell Witch's Weekly."
"My daughter's prospects are not something I will gamble with! Especially not with a lowborn little brat!"
The Duponts frowned at Paul's words. "Monsieur Greengrass, do you lack confidence in my son?" Jules asked.
Paul sputtered. "N-Not at all!"
"Forgive my father's passion." Alain cut in smoothly. "I know zis is a distressing situation for you, but I will gladly accept zis challenge, as long as zis leetle boy agrees to never again disturb my betrothed with his presence."
Daphne gasped. "What?"
"Sure." Harry accepted the terms.
Paul was sweating, but as he looked at the Duponts and the supreme confidence on their faces, he began to calm.
After all, this idiot boy was Daphne's age, going up against a dueling champion five years his senior. Alain's triumph would make this a night those in attendance would never forget, and really, the Duponts were the richest family in all of Europe, if this small concession earned him access to their resources, it was something he'd gladly do.
"Very well." Paul said. "I accept."
People chattered in excitement as everyone shuffled along, Alain directed traffic, herding everyone to bunch up on one side of the ballroom.
"Ze men shall stand at the front to deflect any wayward spells." Lord Dupont said, causing his son to laugh, "Zat is unnecessary, papa. I doubt zis boy knows anyzing more than a tickling charm, and I will not miss."
Daphne struggled to maintain her neutral mask as the men around her laughed. Her father had both hands on her shoulders, keeping her in place, and as she glanced at Harry, the idiot actually grinned and gave her a thumbs up!
She desperately tried to come up with a solution, anything that would at least allow her to keep interacting with Harry, but nothing came up. She was powerless, and for the first time, she felt the walls closing in. She was about to be sold off to a man that saw her as a trophy. All the fantasies of a different life, far-fetched as they'd always been, were quickly crumbling into dust.
"Oh, this is so exciting!" Madam Rutherford squealed.
"Are you ready?" Alain asked Harry.
"Yep!"
"Very well. Lord Greengrass, ze rules?"
Paul smirked. "You will duel until one of you is disarmed or incapacitated. All forms of magic, barring the unforgivables, are permitted."
People gasped dramatically. Of course, in practice, this would not be a no-holds-barred death duel. Alain would dispatch the young Potter with the most basic of dueling spells. It would make him look all the more noble, to show mercy to the poor, misguided boy.
"Oh my, what a contrast!" Madam Rutherford whispered, though it was a loud enough whisper for basically everyone to hear. "The handsome, debonair Frenchman - I would have him ranked first in my list if he were English - he holds himself with such confidence! And then you have that scruffy, messy boy with those hideous glasses. We have a stallion facing a donkey!"
Daphne clenched her fist in irritation at that, wishing she could hex the woman to hell and back. Really, as she looked between them and compared their looks, she found Harry to be the more handsome of the two, messy appearance and all.
Begrudgingly, though, she could admit that part of Rutherford's comparison had merit. Even with his casual stance, Alain looked primed and ready to snap into action. Meanwhile, it looked as if the laces on Harry's trainers were undone, and he might trip over at any moment.
"Begin!"
Tenseness and anticipation fell over the ballroom as Alain settled into a very relaxed dueling stance. "Go ahead, I will allow you a free shot."
People oohed and aaahed as Alain smirked, bowing slightly and holding his chin out.
Harry stuck his tongue out as his face scrunched up in concentration. He swung his wand in a sloppy arc, "Rictumsempra!"
Daphne's groan was drowned out by the laughter that filled the room as Harry's tickling charm flew well wide of Alain, who's bemused smile never left his face. "On second thought, have ten."
Everyone laughed even harder as Harry took him up on the offer. By the seventh attempt, he'd dialed things in to where his spells were finally heading towards Alain. The Frenchman snorted, easily leaning away from two spells before, in the ultimate show of disrespect, he leaned over the final spell and blew on it, sending it flying off in the other direction.
He took a bow as everyone clapped in appreciation of the move. Harry kept firing, but Alain didn't even bother to stop bowing while he kept evading the tickling charms.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen," He raised his wand up with a flourish, "Eet is my turn to cast."
Alain flicked his wrist towards Harry with a placid smile, silently casting a simple stunner that he knew would tear through the air and knock the boy out before he'd even know what hit him.
Nothing came out.
He quirked an eyebrow. Unaware of what was happening, the crowd was still waiting for him to cast the blow that would finish the pathetic boy off.
Writing it off as an oddity, Alain flicked his wrist again, silently casting the stunner.
Nothing came out.
"Come now, Alain, end this farce." His father encouraged.
Alain frowned as he now angrily jabbed his wand at Harry. "Stupefy!"
Again, nothing came out.
"Oh good, it worked!" Harry said, stuffing his wand in his pocket. "Sorry, I'm not the best when it comes to fighting." He patted himself down.
"Alain!" Paul yelled. "Finish this!"
People were now murmuring in confusion as Alain continued to jab his wand, growing in desperation with each thrust. "STUPEFY! BOMBARDA! EXPLODRA!... FULMEN!"
When even the lightning spell failed to let off so much as a spark from his wand, Alain began to panic, looking towards Harry with wild eyes. "W-What 'ave you done to me? You little monster!"
"Don't worry! I haven't turned you into a muggle or anything!" Harry said before proceeding to sit down on the floor, legs crossed as he pulled a bunch of random junk from under his robes.
"Lets see." He mused as he laid out a tape recorder, a pencil, and a squirming little pygmy puff that that was tied up and had been forced into a rectangular shape. "If I can just get you in there and get the damn thing to shut, it should be able to work…"
As Harry tried to shove the pygmy puff into the tape recorder, Alain grew more and more hysterical, wailing his arm about like a sword. "Non! Non! Non!"
"Alain, contrôlez-vous!" His father shouted as his heir, his pride and joy, came undone in front of the crowd.
Daphne, meanwhile, couldn't contain herself any longer. She watched as Harry wasted time trying to jam the tape recorder shut as the pygmy puff squeaked in protest. Finally, she shouted. "Harry! Stop messing around! Just get closer and attack him!"
"Daphne!" Her father looked down at her, completely scandalized.
Hearing Daphne's words, Harry stood up. He trusted her judgment, especially when it came to fights. He abandoned his little project and walked cautiously forward, shooting off tickling charms as fast as he could.
Alain was hit by a few, and it only led to making him more irate. "Chien galeux! Return my magic now!" in his desperation, he tried wandless casting, a skill he didn't have, and that failed too.
As he continued to flail around, Alain finally noticed something. On his wrist, his very expensive watch glinted, and the face looked different.
"Aha!" He exclaimed. "You planted somezing on me! SABOTEUR!" He grabbed his own wrist as if it were going to run off from him, bringing his watch right up to his face.
Stuck on the watch-face was a craggly old sticker with the initials 'H.P' written on it.
Harry's eyes widened when he saw Alain move to remove the sticker. "Hey! I wouldn't do that! You cast a lot of spells!" He warned. "I'm surprised it didn't burn itself out already, actually. It turned out better than I expected." Harry murmured with a note of pride.
"Fuck you, you leetle bastard!" Alain grinned triumphantly as he wedged a fingernail under the sticker and peeled it off.
The explosion that resulted was deafening. Ladies screamed, some even fainting, as blood gushed out onto the pristine marble floor.
All color drained from Alain's face as he stood, dumbfounded, staring down at the bloody stump at the end of his wrist. What remained of his hand - a fingertip here, a chunk of bone there - was spread out on the floor, washed away by his rapidly bleeding stump.
The strapping young dueling prodigy swayed on his feet before collapsing onto the floor, unconscious.
Daphne glanced up at her father to find that he was completely petrified, mouth hanging open in abject shock and horror.
"Daph! Daph!" Harry was walking over to her, a big smile on his face. He seemed complete unaware of the way people were backing away from him in fear. "I won! You get to keep being my assistant!"
Daphne couldn't help it. The weight she'd been feeling for so long, for years, had evaporated into smoke. She looked at the boy who was rubbing the back of his head with his wand, who's dress robes were now speckled with little droplets of blood from her would-be suitor. She looked at Harry as he walked up to her, and she smiled.
…
"I'm afraid the damage is magical. There is no way to restore the hand, but believe me, Lord Dupont, this is not the time to despair! I can fashion your son a perfectly serviceable prosthetic at a very reasonable price! Heck, set up a betrothal with my daughter, and you'll have it for free! …Heh, little joke, there, some healer humor, figured it would lighten up the mood."
Monsieur Dupon's mood did not seem to be improved by the wizard that had stemmed his son's bleeding and stabilized him. He was sitting on a stool, staring off into space.
The aftermath of the duel had put a bit of a damper on the festivities. Very quickly, people made their excuses and left, no betrothals or courtships having been set up.
Not everyone was in a dour mood. Madam Rutherford was sitting at a table, giggling madly to herself as she wrote a quick draft of what she was sure would be her most lucrative article yet. Screw Forever Pure and its anemic circulation, she was going straight to the offices of Witch Weekly with this!
Meanwhile, at another, very distant corner of the ballroom, Paul Greengrass was standing over his daughter and his… his… Oh Merlin save him!
The words 'future son-in-law' made his migraine return with a vengeance as he looked down at the boy who seemed to be oblivious to his seething rage.
After the duel, his first instinct had been to figure out a way around it. The boy had sabotaged his opponent, he must have used some muggle trickery! But, as much as purebloods disliked the uncouth, they loved to be anal retentive about traditions even more, especially when said traditions were screwing over one of their peers and not themselves.
The sticker had been examined by Rookwood, an unspeakable, who had been quite impressed by the magic at work, and confirmed it was fully magical. Regardless, there had been no rule against what the Potter boy had done, he could have poisoned Alain's drink and would have still been in the clear in the eyes of magic.
And that was really the kicker. He'd agreed to a binding vow of sorts, witnessed by the attendees, all prominent members of the wizarding elite, and the news would soon spread far and wide if Rutherford's cackles were anything to go off of. While he could back out, it would come at a cost, a cost in magic, gold and prestige. It was far too high a cost, a cost that would leave the Greengrass family in ruins.
"Tell me, boy…" Paul pinched the bridge of his nose as he refused to look at the idiot. "Have you been to Gringotts? Do you know the state of the Potter fortune?"
Harry grimaced slightly. "Yeah, erm… they told me it's all gone. I guess my dad was all-in on the war effort, so he sold everything, even the family heirlooms."
Paul could feel his throat closing up. "Nothing? Not a single galleon? A precious grimoire? An ancestral home?"
Harry shook his head. "Nope."
"Father," Daphne interjected, resting her hand on Harry's arm. "We must set up a date to negotiate the contract, correct?"
Paul seethed on the inside as he saw the smug look on his daughter's face. Where had he gone wrong? What had he done for her to forget her upbringing and be taken in by this scoundrel?
"Yes, of course. Thank you, daughter." He looked at the boy, praying to every deity he knew of that he could make him drop dead with only a look. "I will arrange a date in the summer, then we shall make everything official." His daughter sent him a pointed look, and Paul clenched his fists. "But, as of right now, with magic as my witness, I would like to recognize your betrothal to my daughter."
Harry smiled. "Thank you sir! I promise you won't regret it!"
I already am. Paul thought internally. Not wanting to endure another second of this torture, he sent Daphne a jerky nod towards the exit. "Come now, daughter, we shall return home."
"Yes, father." Daphne bowed her head in that same, reverent way she always had, but now it felt almost mocking to him.
"I guess I'll see you after winter break, Daph." Harry said.
"I suppose so." Daphne said as she stood up.
At that moment, Harry saw her fully. There was a slight flush on her cheeks, likely from the high drama of the night's events, but the rest of her was still immaculately kept. Her blonde hair was styled perfectly with a side-braid that looked like it had been spun out of gold. Her light make-up only accented her deep blue eyes and small nose. Harry even wondered if there was some charm at work on her blue dress that made it give off a light glow, because when he took all of her in, Daphne looked like she'd come out of a fairy tale.
Daphne bit her lip, glancing around hesitantly before she leaned forward, grabbed onto Harry's arms for support, and planted her lips on his cheek.
The kiss was chaste and brief, and yet, when she pulled away, Harry's cheek still burned and his heart felt ready to explode.
"Goodbye, Harry." Daphne said with a smile as she curtsied before turning around and following after her father.
Harry stood there for quite a while longer, hand going to his cheek as for the first time in his life, his mind found it could only focus on one thing.
…
Five minutes into his first Christmas at Hogwarts, it was already the best of Harry's life.
He woke up to find gifts at the foot of his bed. Actual gifts! He'd never had any of those before.
He got gifts from Ernie, Hannah, Padma, Parvati and Millicent. He even got one from Pansy, too!
Everyone left a note, too, all of them congratulating him on his betrothal. Harry was surprised that they all knew about it, considering it had only been a couple of days since the ball.
He also received gifts from Daphne's parents. Her mother sent him a cologne along with a letter talking about how excited she was and how she hoped they would meet soon.
Mr. Greengrass did not leave a note, but he did send him a book. The title read: Know Your Place. He flipped it over to skim the summary, and the book seemed to be about people knowing their station in society and not trying to rock the boat.
"That was nice of him." Harry mused as he tossed the book to the side. He'd definitely get around to reading it, as long as he didn't forget.
There was only one final gift. It was from both Daphne and Susan, a joint gift. The two of them had been working on it pretty heavily the last two weeks or so of term, and no matter how many times Harry had begged to have a peek, he'd been denied.
He tore through the wrapping paper. As snowflakes of paper began their slow dance down to the floor, Harry let out a gasp of delight.
They were three dolls, hand-stitched with little buttons for eyes. A mini Harry, Daphne and Susan each.
Harry felt his heart swell. He liked all of his gifts, but this one was by far the most special. The fact that they'd taken the time to hand-craft these three little creepy dolls - they even got the tape on his glasses! - filled him with fondness. It was a warm, full feeling. He closed his eyes and smiled, basking in the moment.
After years of being alone, he didn't think he could go back to that life.
Harry grabbed the three little dolls and giggled like a maniac as he opened up his trunk. He was going to have a wonderful Christmas morning tearing these dolls apart and sewing them back together, with a few modifications, of course.