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*
It won't be long, it won't be long.
'Til the day comes crashing through, through your door.
And you'll find me standing, tired and worn, with the sun behind me.
It's a dark room. Go to sleep.
In the morning. You will find me.
*O*O*O*
A/N:
Hello all! As usual, I got carried away with my yapping and wrote a lot of SOL scenes. After much consideration, I decided to split this chapter into two again so it wouldn't be an extreme chore for me to edit and for you to read
So that means, unfortunately, the first task isn't in this chapter. Sorry!
The good news is that part 2 (First Task) is already done, and (probably) will be up in about a week or so though, so stay tuned!
*O*O*O*
Harry, Daphne, and Hermione had spent the last few hours aimlessly testing and trying out spells in the book Hermione had brought with her, trying to add a 'timed activation' to Harry's Portkey.
They had been carving sets of runes into the broken leg of a chair, and whenever it failed, they'd simply cast Reparo on it before trying another.
"By combining the timed effect of the Tempus charm with the delaying effect provided by the Moratus hex, this should keep the Portkey inert till after the time you've set!" She showed her carvings to the other two.
Harry hummed at her explanation. "How'd you figure that out?"
"I thought of Tracey's use of Impedimenta on Crabbe yesterday and how it slowed him down. I figured we could do the same to a greater effect by adding the Moratus to it instead."
"Clever work, Hermione," said Daphne with a nod of agreement from Harry. Hermione puffed her chest out proudly at their compliments. "I imagine Tracey'll be pleased that she was a source of good inspiration for once."
With that, Hermione set the time to trigger in a minute and then activated the basic runes for the Delaying curse. She handed the carved piece of wood over to Harry, and he performed the enchantment for it to serve as a Portkey.
He picked up the Portkey as the glow around it dimmed. It remained inert as he observed it.
"Hopefully that'll be the one. We've been at this for hou—!" Harry was pulled up into the ceiling by the Portkey's invisible force.
"I wonder what he was going to say," muttered Daphne with a smirk, her gaze now cast to the ceiling.
Seconds later, the piece of wood fell to the floor with an unceremonious clunk. Harry followed after.
Thankfully, unlike the chair leg, he was floating down gracefully. He looked like he was treading through viscous honey, slowly kicking his feet until his toes gingerly touched the ground. He only stumbled a little as he landed.
"I guess it works," sighed the teen as he adjusted his robes, "Good!"
"I wonder what happens if you enchant a Portkey twice," said Daphne suddenly. She had been pondering the idea ever since Harry had started experimenting with it.
"Could you even do that?" asked Hermione, now intrigued at the idea.
Harry shrugged. "Only one way to find out."
He walked over to the shoe he'd been using before and proceeded to cast the Portkey enchantment on it once. Then, he did so again, forming a second layer without issue. Outwardly, nothing seemed different about it. So he prepared himself and placed his finger on it.
Harry and the shoe were gone in a swirl.
Both Daphne and Hermione watched as Harry came back down slowly again and the shoe plopped right next to him on the ground.
"Hm," Daphne sounded disappointed. The Portkey looked the same as before, but a brief shimmer of blue rippled across the surface before vanishing. "Oh, well that was different. How very underwhelming."
"What were you hoping for?" asked Hermione.
"An implosion?" joked Daphne, eyeing the rest of the Clubhouse. "It'd be one way to clean this place up."
"That was one... Hrk!" Harry looked a bit ill at this point, his stomach churning. It took him a moment, but he steadied himself. "Anyone else keen on giving the other a try? I swear I'll catch you," he promised.
Both girls shared a look. Neither could say it was an enjoyable experience despite having tried it before, especially even more after watching Harry knock himself out the other time.
Instead, Daphne leaned over and whispered something into Hermione's ear, and Harry didn't quite trust the impish smiles they now both shared.
"Sorry, Harry," shrugged Hermione, trying to look as apologetic as she could with that smile. She drew her wand and pointed it at the Portkey. "Daphne's making me do it."
"What?" Harry held his hands out in front of him, "Wait, wait, wait—!"
She did not.
"Depulso." She lightly launched the Portkey over to Harry, and with his years as a Seeker working against him, he made the mistake of instinctively catching it in mid-air.
"Ah, fu—"
And then he was gone — pulled up into the air once more with a cartoonish yelp.
*O*O*O*
"...and then you'll bring it inwards to make sort of a shrinking circle." Waving his wand, Harry guided Neville through the motions of casting Expelliarmus.
It'd been hours after Hermione had solved the last piece of the Portkey puzzle. Since then, inspired by his actions against Malfoy's clique, Neville approached Harry during dinner to teach him how to defend himself.
In exchange, Neville had taught Harry new breathing exercises which he'd learnt from his granny, who had learnt it from his parents. They had made good use of it during their time as Aurors. Breathing exercises or not, finally having someone he could partner up with in future training sessions meant that Harry was more than happy to oblige.
"Expelliarmus…" Neville's attempt was met with a few sparks of magic, but Harry's wand still remained firm in his grasp.
"Not too bad of a start, Neville. It certainly took me quite a few attempts before I got the gist of it. Give it a few more tries," said Harry. As Neville practised his wand movements and incantations, Daphne and Tracey entered the Clubhouse.
"Harry, do you have a moment?" asked Daphne as the two girls strode over. "Today's paper arrived." She had a rather displeased frown on her face, which told Harry what to expect.
"Take a look," Tracey plopped the stack of papers onto a nearby desk for the boys to read.
Strangely, there was a large chunk of the front page missing, about where a moving photo would have usually been. Judging by the methodical cuts made to the paper, whatever photo that had once been there had been removed precisely and with a great deal of care.
Harry and Neville read on anyway.
*O*O*O*
THE DAILY PROPHET
HARRY POTTER — A TACITURN, TERSE TROUBLEMAKER?
WHAT IS THE 'BOY-WHO-LIVES' HIDING?
— by Rita Skeeter
Harry Potter has managed to unmistakably insert himself into the limelight of Hogwarts' halls for yet another year.
After last year's debacle involving the dangerous dark wizard and Azkaban escapee, Sirius Black, and his failed attempts to kill the Boy-Who-Lived in the confines of the school, many would understandably avoid attention. However, it seems the allure of fame is not something Harry Potter is capable of letting go so easily.
As Hogwarts hosts its legendary Triwizard Tournament for the first time in centuries, its resident celebrity has managed to bypass new magical rules set to keep underaged students from entering the dangerous competition. This officially makes him one of four Champions, selected out of hundreds of other students from the three participating schools.
It is not this journalist's place to postulate how Harry Potter has accomplished this feat, but one does wonder how a 14-year-old student has managed to successfully place his name into the Goblet of Fire, entering such a highly secure and restrictive competition. Was his success a matter of fate? Or were there underhanded methods performed by this vainglorious student in the hopes of furthering his name and reputation?
Alleged rumours also run rampant amidst the student body of this 'hero' using his status to bully peers and pick fights with professors. Several students who wish to remain anonymous even claim that they had recently witnessed a ruthless assault by Harry Potter against his peers, but have not come forth out of fear of retribution.
Though the veracity of these claims and allegations cannot be proven, a trip to the school to cover the Wand Weighing ceremony indicated that a majority of students do not support Harry Potter's presence in the tournament — evidenced by the mass number of students that bear badges supporting the first and most rightful of Hogwarts' Champions, Cedric Diggory.
To find out more, during yesterday's ceremony, Harry Potter was approached for his comments on the aforementioned issues. He flatly denied them with short, terse responses. When pressed further on his silence, he was unable to meet this reporter's piercing gaze. With his jaw set tightly, he pointedly ignored everything else before departing quickly, claiming that he 'had to go feed his owl'.
What secrets is this emotionally distant young wizard hiding? Could the rumours of abuse have some semblance of truth given the lack of support for a wizard as influential as Harry Potter? Could this hero's good-naturedness be nothing more than a facad—
*O*O*O*
Harry rolled his eyes, not keen on reading the rest of the article.
It seemed to have gone about as he'd expected, especially after he'd heard Dumbledore describe another scathing article she'd written about him as 'enchantingly nasty' during the ceremony.
Harry had to give it to her. Even what little words he'd said to her had been taken wildly out of context by her and spun into quite an elaborate tale. Unfortunately, even he could predict that there'd be an increase in the sales of Draco's badges by tomorrow morning.
"Shall I reach out to my father to try and get this libel nonsense taken down?" offered Daphne with a scowl, ready to jump at the chance to take down the slanderous witch.
"No, I'd hate to get your father involved in matters not directly related to him." Daphne wanted to correct him, as it would involve her father soon enough given that they were going to be in-laws eventually. But Harry considered her statement again. "...Your father can do that?"
Daphne looked a bit shy now. "...I'm sure he has a contact within the Prophet."
"Oh, ya don't even know the half of it, Potter." Tracey chuckled darkly, "Her dad's got loads of connections..."
Harry raised his brows at his girlfriend, showing her that he was a little worried at the implication.
"Oh, it's not that sinister…" clarified Daphne as she crossed her arms. "My father's business just has him interacting with lots of wizards and witches in high places… and a few of them are sure to owe him a favour or two."
Surprised by this news, Harry wondered if the man had as much political clout as Lucius Malfoy. What didn't surprise him was how he had never once heard Daphne invoke her father's influence in the manner Draco did. She had always struck him as the sort of girl who wanted to fight her own battles.
She had only offered now to protect his name, which Harry was eternally grateful for.
In any case, he thought it best not to invoke his assistance before formal introductions were made. Harry didn't want to set a bad first impression by seeming to be unreliable to the man he considered to be his future father-in-law.
"In any case, Skeeter's exactly what I thought she was. I'd be better off just shutting my mouth whenever she's around." He made a mental note not to engage her next time but was doubtful that it would change anything.
"Best not to give her anything," Neville agreed, picking up the paper and giving it another cursory glance. "But with her ability to write, I'm sure she can still cook something up about your silence."
Harry nodded. That would be the best choice of the available options for now. His eyes darted back to the newspaper. "By the way, what happened to the front page?"
"Um… printing error?" offered Daphne to him, and Tracey gave a half-hearted shrug.
"Not too sure. We received it like that."
"Strange…" mumbled Harry, before also shrugging. "Don't worry. I'll keep steering clear of Skeeter for the foreseeable future." Harry shook his head in a forlorn manner, his gaze turning soft as he locked eyes with his partner. "If only the Prophet had hired you as their journalist, Miss Greengrass."
Daphne grasped Harry's tie, pulling on it softly till it was slightly taut. He looked like a very happy dog on a leash. "Yes, you'd have followed me into any broom closet, wouldn't you?"
"Need you even ask?" Harry agreed with a toothy grin. If he had a tail, they were sure it'd be wagging uncontrollably now. "It'd certainly be one way to get me to talk."
"An interesting suggestion, Mr Potter…" Daphne let go of his tie and pretended to jolt down his words on invisible paper like how he imagined Rita Skeeter would have done had he given her an iota of his attention. "I might take you up on that offer in the future."
Beside them, Neville was blushing up a storm from witnessing all the flirting happening between the very affectionate couple. He felt like a third-wheel and a little awkward, especially with Tracey nearby.
"Ugh, alright. Enough flirtin', lovebirds." Tracey said as walked over she locked arms with Daphne, slowly pulling the blonde back towards the door. Although reluctant, Daphne allowed herself to be separated from Harry. "Anyway, that's all, Potter. We just wanted to stop by and let you know about the article before ya hear it from someone else."
"I appreciate it. Thanks again," Harry waved, "and have a goodnight you two!"
"Goodnight boys," replied Daphne endearingly before turning. Tracey just threw a hand over her shoulder, offering them a half-hearted goodbye.
Harry glanced over to Neville, and the boy looked like he wanted to reply, but was struggling to do so. He thought about what Daphne had said in regards to Tracey and Neville's relationship. Even though they'd gotten close over the last few weeks, it seemed Neville was still nervous when conveying some of his feelings to the girls — or, at the very least, Tracey.
Harry inconspicuously tapped his friend on the back with his elbow. He nodded his head in their direction, silently urging him to speak his mind before they left.
Neville took a moment but spoke up once they had the door open. "...Goodnight, Tracey!"
It took her a second, but Tracey turned back to regard him with a small smile. The usual fire in her eyes was soft and subdued this time around as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
"G'night, Nevs."
Neville's face lit up like a warm home on Christmas Eve. He resembled someone who had just sipped on a steaming mug of Butterbeer after a long day in the freezing winter. He nodded appreciatively at Harry, grateful for the encouragement.
Harry patted Neville on the back so hard that he nearly stumbled, causing the boys to miss the end of the girls' conversation as the door closed.
"I'm jealous. He didn't wish me a goodnight."
"Oh, stuff it, Greengrass…"
*O*O*O*
In the Slytherin dorms, Daphne and Tracey were seated in front of their respective dressers. They had already washed up and were preparing to turn for the night.
Tensions in Slytherin had risen since Daphne and Tracey helped Hermione. None of Malfoy's clique had spoken to them, nor accused them of being Gryffindor sympathizers, but the disapproving glances from some of their housemates spoke volumes of how they felt.
On the other side of the room, Pansy was already in bed, her curtains drawn for privacy.
The two had never really interacted with Pansy much despite sharing a room with her. There had basically been an unspoken arrangement formed over the years not to interact or bother each other. Sometimes they'd exchange pleasantries if they needed to borrow something — but beyond that, communication was nonexistent.
"Zzzz… zzzz…" She sounded like a pillowcase full of stones being vigorously shaken, which meant that they were free to speak as they pleased.
Staring at her reflection, Tracey was combing out her moist hair. "Daph, I thought ya should know… my sources told me there's an upcoming trip to Hogsmeade soon."
"Another?" Daphne replied without looking up, her focus on the piece of paper she was drawing on. Her journal, thick and full of her penned thoughts, rested underneath it.
It hadn't been too strange to Tracey that Daphne's attention was preoccupied. Daphne had been refining her artistic skills lately, consistently sketching or drawing in her notebook whenever she had a spare moment. If she spent any more time with her nose buried in that book, she worried that Daphne would end up turning into another Hermione.
"In a week, ow..." Tracey confirmed, grimacing as her comb caught an errant knot in her brown hair. "One way for the students to loosen up before the games start, I reckon."
"Hmm. That's good to know." Daphne's tone was distant, clearly absorbed in her work.
Curious, Tracey climbed onto her seat to peek at what Daphne was drawing.
She was greeted by the black-and-white, moving photo of Harry Potter, looking stone-faced and unhappy. Barely in the frame were hints of the other champions: a tuft of Cedric's hair, a glimpse of Fleur's face, the corner of Krum's jaw. A bony hand with garish nails, likely belonging to Skeeter, was trying to push him forward for the picture.
It took her a second to realise that it was the missing piece of the newspaper.
"Ah!" Her eyes bulged at the sight, "Printing error, my arse! I should've known better… Yer bloody obsessed, Daph."
Daphne didn't seem to have been too bothered by her words, instead holding it up and admiring the image.
"He's awfully adorable in this picture, don't you think?" Hearts had been peppered around Harry's features while a relatively detailed self-portrait of herself with a set of crooked horns and tattered bat wings was busy planting a kiss on his cheek.
Tracey scoffed. Shaking her head, she dropped back down to her seat and resumed her combing. "Ya better keep that thing safe and secure for now. No telling what Parkinson's going to do if she sees ya with that."
It wouldn't be much longer before their relationship would go public, and only a matter of time before the other Slytherins would find out. Daphne wondered how apoplectic Malfoy would be once the news broke that they were seeing each other. That would certainly be a sight worth paying to see.
Daphne snickered as she set the page into her book. "Maybe I'll ask her for one of those horrid badges." It wouldn't take her much effort to change it to say 'Malfoy' instead.
After pressing on it, Daphne waved her wand over the book. The clipping stitched itself into the page and integrated itself seamlessly into her journal.
"There. All done." Daphne shut the book and stored it in her drawer before addressing Tracey. "So, Hogsmeade again?"
Daphne thought it was a perfect opportunity for her to look for gifts for Harry. She'd also have the time to get one for Neville too, as an apology for scaring him.
Then she frowned. Tracey seemed to always know when their next trip to the town was. "And who are your sources, exactly?"
"Me," she replied humorously. "Didn't I tell ya I was getting good at Divinations?"
With a roll of her eyes, Daphne decided to leave it at that.
*O*O*O*
As Harry retired to his room, he found a letter waiting for him on his pillow. There was no mark on the wax seal, but on the envelope, in blotchy black ink, was the mark of a large paw print.
He closed the blinds around his bed and tore into the letter immediately, reading his godfather's message in record time.
What the letter consisted of was instructions to speak to Sirius in the early hours on the 22nd of November.
That was just a week away.
Harry smiled, excited to finally see and speak with Sirius again. But he was ever curious about what was so important that they needed to discuss it in person.
*O*O*O*
A week later, snow had come once again.
Coincidentally, it happened on the day of their trip to Hogsmeade. Same as before.
The snow fell in soft, silent flakes, dusting the students in a blanket of white. It seemed to materialize out of thin air all around them.
Daphne tilted her head back, allowing the cold wind to brush against her features. Seeing the snow reminded her of the day Harry had asked her to be his.
It hadn't been that long since, yet it felt like she had already spent a lifetime with him.
And even a lifetime still wouldn't be enough to slake her thirst for him.
She shut her eyes and sighed — a wistful, longing sound.
They had agreed to stay apart for today, and being apart from him made Daphne's heart hurt. With all eyes on him, Harry didn't dare try to accompany Daphne around Hogsmeade again.
He had been uncertain whether to go with his cloak of invisibility, but it seemed Harry had decided otherwise. She spared one last glance behind her as she boarded her carriage with Tracey, watching as the other half of the Chimaeras boarded their own carriage from across the courtyard.
The two settled in while waiting for the rest of the carriage to fill with students.
"What are your plans for today?" asked Daphne as she gingerly removed her gloves, rubbing her chilly palms together.
It was nearly impossible for Daphne to take Tracey around without it being a bore to her, so they were going their separate ways today.
"Throw a few snowballs? Cause a bit of trouble?" Tracey gave her an innocent smile, "Ya know… the usual."
"You're terrible," said Daphne before a small blonde girl poked her head into the carriage's doorway. She was wearing a set of psychedelic-purple glasses, with sparkling lenses that shifted in colours, making it seem as though she were gazing through twin kaleidoscopes.
"Hello," she greeted with a faraway voice that felt like it was wrapped in sheets of satin and silk. "May I join you two?"
"Of course…" Daphne recognised her from the last time she had gone to Hogsmeade with Harry. "You're Luna Lovegood, aren't you?"
Luna settled into her seat next to Daphne before pushing her glasses up onto her forehead. She was rather cute, with very soft features and a button nose. Her eyes were large and half-lidded, and her dreamy gaze seemed to simultaneously stare into and past Daphne's own.
Daphne thought she resembled a slightly older and extremely subdued version of Astoria.
"Yes. You must be Daphne Greengrass," she stated before turning to look at the other Slytherin, "and you're Tracey Davis."
"My stellar reputation precedes me!" Tracey remarked to Daphne, "Being popular sure is convenient. No need for introductions."
"For all the trouble you've been up to, I'm sure," Daphne replied with a dry smile. "They'll have you on 'Wanted' posters around Hogsmeade soon enough."
Luna lowered her glasses for a moment and inspected the space around Tracey's head closely.
"My, you've got an awful lot of Wrackspurts around you."
Tracey's eyes rolled around in their sockets as she scanned the space around her head. "Wrackspurts?" she asked, concerned.
"Yes. They're hard to spot," said Luna in a subdued tone with her hand up to her mouth, as if trying not to let the Wrackspurts hear her. Then she tapped the glasses on her forehead. "Invisible, mostly. But it helps that I'm a forefront expert on the subject and have the necessary tools."
The two Slytherins shared a look. Even in front of Luna, Tracey was openly mouthing the words 'she might be barmy!' to Daphne. But Daphne wasn't deterred. She was a little curious, and she'd spent enough time with Astoria and Tracey to know how to keep energetic children and simple-minded best friends occupied.
"And what do Wrackspurts do, Luna?"
Luna explained it simply. About how they would wriggle their way through the air and into peoples' ears, making their minds all fuzzy and inducing confusion.
"And you say they're all over Tracey?"
Luna just nodded, her fingers idly tracing the patterns on her skirt.
"It's all beginning to make sense now," snorted Daphne, failing to suppress a grin at her friend's expense. "Long live the Wrackspurt Queen."
"Oi! Ya hear that you lot?" cried Tracey as she played along, glancing all around her as if she could also see the Wrackspurts. "She's insulting yer queen! Attack her! Make her brain all mushy too!"
Daphne smirked, lightly rapping her knuckles against her temple. "I'm afraid there aren't any vacancies left in my head for Wrackspurts. Should still be plenty of space for more subjects in yours though, your Majesty."
Tracey bit back a retort, opting to kick Daphne's leg instead. Luna glanced between the two bickering friends before a tiny, whimsical smile popped onto her face.
"You two are nicer than my friends," said Luna as she pushed her glasses back up, "They don't even believe me when I tell them they've got Wrackspurts."
"Why wouldn't they believe ya?" said Tracey, though her tone was notably sarcastic. "Yer clearly an expert."
Luna shrugged, though the action was dramatically slow. "They prefer calling me 'Loony Lovegood', and taking my things and hiding them. I think they think I'm crazy." She said that last part under her breath, her gaze dropping to the floor.
Tracey coughed awkwardly into her fist. The three fell silent as a few more students boarded their carriage.
Daphne gave Luna a soft look, suddenly reminded of how she was treated by the other girls after her own rumours got blown out of proportion. Except, this poor girl was being physically bullied on top of all that too.
The two Slytherins shared another glance between each other. Perhaps the Chimaeras could lend a hand.
Daphne spoke first, a bit more hushed given the new company. "How could you be crazy, Luna? As Tracey said, you're the forefront expert, aren't you? Clearly they're just upset that they're full of Wrackspurts."
"Yeah," grunted Tracey, seemingly more annoyed after learning that people were bullying Luna. "They're not your friends, Lovegood."
"Oh," came the disheartened reply. She likely already knew as much but had never acknowledged it out loud.
For a moment. Tracey bit her lower lip. Then she cleared her throat to grab Luna's attention.
"Say, Lovegood," Tracey asked, "you free today?"
"I am." Luna looked intrigued. "Why?"
Tracey's friendly smile turned downright deviant, and Daphne was already groaning softly into the hand that covered her face.
"Wanna get up to no good?"
*O*O*O*
After Skeeter's article had come out last week, the number of people who seemed to hate him grew. Or at least it seemed that way to him. But Harry was getting quite used to it. Ignoring glares and muttered insults had become second nature at this point.
Even though the three other students sharing the carriage with them had been sporting 'Support Cedric Diggory!' badges, the rideover had thankfully been otherwise painless for Harry. Hopefully, no one would be teaching them how to access the badges' other message meant for Harry.
After Harry, Hermione, and Neville had alighted, they made their way towards the Three Broomsticks where they saw Skeeter skulking about with her cameraman in the distance. She was scanning the crowd in an attempt to look for yet another 'interview' with any of the champions.
Whispering a quick apology to Hermione, Harry plucked her cap off and slipped it over himself. Then he ducked low behind Neville as they crossed paths with the annoying reporter. With the other students and Neville in front of him, and Hermione's curls billowing in the wind, the nosy reporter failed to spot Harry shuffling along in Neville's shadow.
He was glad the Chimaeras had decided to split up for today. No telling what sort of inflammatory allegations Skeeter would cook up to scandalize their relationship if she had spotted them in the open.
After they'd cleared her, Harry gratefully returned Hermione's cap. "A real bloodhound, that one." He said, glancing over his shoulder just in case.
"At least she doesn't have the nose of one," said Neville.
Hermione smiled as she tucked her cap back over her hair. "That'd be something worth writing about."
The three entered the establishment, immediately greeted by the rushing warmth of the blazing hearth. It was nice being out of the snow and the cold, and the din of the pub was as lively as it ever was.
Harry scanned the place, hoping that he'd catch sight of a distinct head of blonde hair. Even if he couldn't be seen with her publicly yet, just seeing a glimpse of her would be enough to satiate the dull ache in his heart.
Alas, much to his disappointment, it did not seem as though she was here yet.
In the back of the cramped and cozy establishment, he could see Hagrid's massive frame, with Professor Moody's head just barely visible in front of him. The scarred man was perched at the edge of the seat, ready to leap out at a moment's notice.
He searched further before he made eye contact with Ron, who was already seated with his twin brothers and Lee Jordan. Both teens regarded each other for a moment before turning away. Harry was lying if he said it hadn't been hard to look away.
Eventually, they found seats and began chatting over warm mugs of Butterbeer and some simple sandwiches.
To help get Harry's mind off of the approaching task, they chose to discuss more cheerful matters — like the upcoming Christmas event, which was just a month away.
Speaking of Christmas, apparently, there was some sort of special, traditional dance that would be happening, which explained why they were told to bring formal clothes. Mrs Weasley had originally offered him a set before the school year had started, but feeling rather guilty that he was eating into their resources, Harry had politely turned it down by explaining that he had already shopped for his.
Needless to say, Harry was excited to formally ask Daphne out to it once the time came. He was planning to make it as memorable for both of them as possible!
He even got a little excited wondering the sort of formal dress Daphne would wear. Would it be the best dress a Pureblood princess could afford? Or would Daphne go with something simple, yet elegant? Whatever her choice, Harry had no doubt she would look stunning. He genuinely believed Daphne could make even rags look refined.
He was pulled from his thoughts when he saw Hagrid and Moody getting ready to leave. Catching sight of Harry, the two older men then turned to head toward his table.
The greetings were brief, and the message passed to Harry even briefer.
"Meet me at my cabin, midnight, with that cloak of yers, Harry." And then they were off. Harry just hoped that whatever it was, it wouldn't clash with his planned meeting with Sirius.
After a few more minutes, Harry downed the rest of his drink and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his coat. Hermione disapproved of the display, but instead of admonishing his behaviour she just asked where he was going.
"Shopping," he said simply, with an excited look in his eyes.
*O*O*O*
After Tracey and Luna had bid their goodbyes to her, Daphne watched as the older girl dragged the impressionable younger one away. They vanished quickly into the mass of students, bringing Tracey's brewing chaos with them.
Daphne cast her gaze up to the skies once more today and made a little prayer.
Oh Lord, have mercy on us all.
After that, Daphne rushed about the nearby stores, her feet quick even in the frosty terrain.
First, she dropped by Flourish and Blotts, seeking out a suitable gift for Neville. She knew of his interest in Herbology since it was one of the subjects he truly excelled at.
Daphne had originally considered getting him a living plant to tend to instead, but given how frequently he seemed to lose his pet toad, she figured he already had his hands full.
She searched around for a few minutes before locating a hard-cover, limited edition copy of Winogrand's Wondrous Water Plants, which she thought made for a suitable gift as their herbology syllabus didn't cover aquatic plants all that much. While she was there, she also grabbed a gift for Hermione — a magic ink pot that would never spill.
She had arranged for it all to be delivered by owl on Christmas morning.
After her purchases, she headed to the Three Broomsticks, hopeful to catch a glimpse of Harry around town. Unfortunately, Daphne hadn't.
The Broomstick was brimming, but not with any faces she cared for or recognised.
As she waited for her drink, a few boys from Hogwarts and Durmstrang were eyeing her from one of the booths along the wall. One of the foreign boys stood but was yanked back into his seat by an older Slytherin. He whispered something in his ear, likely a warning that no boy approached Daphne Greengrass for any good reason. Facing the prospect of public rejection, he sheepishly returned to his drink.
Thankfully, after that, everyone else had the sense not to try and approach her.
She remedied her disappointment of not seeing Harry with a tall mug of Butterbeer, which she enjoyed out on that same bench overlooking the valley.
Daphne looked like a little girl as she happily sipped on the foam, her hanging feet fluttering back and forth in excitement. The taste of warm caramel brought back memories of that heart-stopping moment she shared with him.
It was only after she was content, full of Butterbeer, that she realised she wasn't close to finishing the mug off. Without Harry around to share the mug this time, she had overestimated her ability to drink a tall tankard alone. She sighed, impressed that she had found yet another tiny, insignificant moment to miss him a little more before pouring the rest of the drink out in the snow. The snow sizzled away from the warmth.
She spent the rest of her time around the outskirts of the village, window shopping and stopping to pick up knick-knacks for her sister and Tracey. As she did, she thought hard about what to get Harry.
It didn't take long before she neared the backside of the village, where the presence of student activity grew noticeably faint. By this point, she had visited every store she passed but found nothing of interest.
Daphne was sure Harry would gladly take whatever she'd give him, even if it was complete and utter junk. But that wasn't a good reason not to get him a proper gift. This was their first holiday together, and she really wanted something significant that appealed to Harry as a person.
Eventually, it was just Daphne walking the barely cobbled streets. She'd never been this far into Hogsmeade, but she noticed a quaint building on the other side of a small river that marked the edge of the village.
It was the first time she'd even seen this shop.
Intrigued, Daphne crossed the small stone bridge.
The shop was notable given its distance from the rest of the houses, as well as the fact that its exterior looked about as old and worn as their headmaster. It seemed to have not been refurbished in the many decades since its founding, as if forgotten with time. Grey brick walls and wooden pillars looked to have been beaten and stripped by heavy weather over the years.
Yet it still stood strong, a true testament to its quality.
A rickety sign hung above the front door from a post carved to resemble the bristly end of a broom.
Barely legible, the faded text read:
'SPINTWITCHES SPORTING NEEDS'
Thick, dark curtains were drawn over the large windows, obscuring the interior from view. If it hadn't been for the small sign that said 'Open', Daphne would've already left in a hurry.
But given the shop's name, she figured she might find something that appealed to Harry's interests.
Tentatively, Daphne entered.
*O*O*O*
The bell above the door made a dull, rusty 'tink-tink' sound as the door opened and closed behind her.
Daphne frowned as she scanned her surroundings.
The state of the interior was dark, dusty, and very dismal. Perhaps even worse than its exterior. The smell of dry rot emanated from the wooden floorboards and she had to watch her step as she maneuvered, carefully testing the floor with tentative pokes before putting all her weight on it.
Red and white wallpaper, once elegant and inviting, was now chipped, faded, and even completely stripped in some sections of the store. Curiously, rows of antiquated broom models were propped against the walls — all in pristine condition despite their surroundings.
Mannequins still on display were wearing musty Quidditch attire, which looked to be about half a century out of date. Splotchy patches of green-blue mould seemed to have splattered across the uniforms, making Daphne steer clear from inspecting it any closer.
At the counter, there was an elderly man who looked to have been about as ancient as his shop. His eyes were shut behind a set of cracked glasses, and his head doddered back and forth as he seemed to bob in and out of consciousness.
"Good afternoon, sir."
There was no response saved for the muttered humming of the elderly.
Daphne contemplated leaving while she could, but with few options left for a gift, she decided against her better judgment. She carefully walked up and tapped the dented bell that was set on the splintery counter.
Ding!
The sound was clear, but, once again, there was no response. Daphne looked away for a moment, glancing about the shop again before tapping the bell once more.
When she looked back, the old man's eyes were upon her.
It took her years of practised composure to stop her from jumping out of her skin and yelping.
"Welcome to Spintwitches, miss," greeted the shopkeeper, his voice squeakier than she expected. He jostled in his seat, straightening out his crooked back, "Albie Weekes, at your service."
Daphne took a moment to find her voice. "...I hope I didn't disturb you, Mr Weekes."
"No trouble at all. Just dozed off. Business is quite slow these days," he gestured around the desolate shop.
"Yes," she agreed, eyeing the cobwebs behind him critically. "Your shop is rather… out of the way."
Truth be told, its proximity to the rest of the village seemed like the least of the shop's problems at the moment.
"In the past, we used the field out back for testing out my stock, but then Quality Quidditch Supplies moved into the heart of Hogsmeade, and then everyone quickly forgot about ol' Spintwitches…" Albie sighed languidly, then shrugged, "Or they died."
"I—I see," said Daphne, her brows rising at the grim statement.
She knew the shop he referenced, but it sold generic goods for Quidditch, and Daphne didn't think she would be content giving Harry something so ordinary.
Perhaps she could invite Harry over the next time. He would enjoy taking a gander at the Quidditch paraphernalia — even if it was in poor condition. Surely Mr Weekes would get a kick out of speaking to someone who enjoyed brooms and Quidditch as he did.
"Um— In any case, I'm looking for a gift."
"We've got plenty!" said Albie, his face shifting to a much livelier expression. He gestured at the various items scattered around his store. "From brooms, baubles, garments, and gear… Er, though most of it will require a good dusting."
Daphne had her doubts about that claim.
Maybe a bit more than a simple dusting.
That is if they didn't just crumble at the slightest touch.
"Anything suitable for a Seeker, sir?"
"A Seeker, hm?" A gnarled finger tapped away at his chin before he nodded. "Why, yes! I have just the thing." He ducked behind his counter and returned moments later with a small, dusty black box that fitted in the palm of his hand.
He gave it a big huff, blowing the dust off the top before wiping his sleeve across the rest of it.
Now cleaner, Daphne could see that the black leather exterior was creased and worn. It must have seen great use before being left and forgotten here in Spintwitches.
The old man began to rattle off information about it excitedly. "It's second-hand, mind you, so the box is a little banged up. But it's got a lot of sentimental value for Hogwarts' Quidditch history. Bought it off Imelda Reyes sometime in 1945. It was given out by Headmaster Black to Slytherin after they took the Inter-House Quidditch Cup in— uh, 1892…? Or was it '93? Hrmm… I can't remember when she first showed it to me."
Daphne was surprised to hear that. The item had practically been made a century ago. And had the shop really been here for that long? It certainly explained a lot regarding the state of it… as well as its owner. It was clear his mind wasn't quite all there as he began to mutter something about a goblin rebellion and ancient magicks under his breath.
Daphne had to gently clear her throat to jolt him back to the present.
He apologized as he placed it on the counter, cracking it open to reveal its contents. The box's hinges were as squeaky as the shopkeeper.
"Still, it's as pristine as the day I got it from Ms Reyes."
Inside, the item sat on a bed of plush black velvet. It gleamed brightly like a singular star in the dark, night sky. Daphne's eyes widened at the sight of the object and she smiled.
It was a very pleased smile.
She could already imagine Harry's face when he saw this on Christmas.
"Per—"
*O*O*O*
"—fect."
Harry had a big, satisfied smile on his face as he exited Dervish and Banges, the music shop he had visited on his first date with Daphne.
His coin purse was significantly lighter after his purchase, but it had been well worth the coin. He just hoped Daphne would feel the same.
Much like Daphne's arrangement, his order would be delivered by owl on Christmas morning.
As today's trip drew to a close, he saw that the students around him were slowly making their way back to the carriages. He glanced around once more, trying to spot Daphne.
He saw that a number of students, all sporting 'POTTER STINKS' badges, were being pelted by a stream of enchanted, floating snowballs. They seemed to fling themselves with more enthusiasm when the students started trying to escape. Some even seemed to inexplicably trip and fall over, finding no mercy from their floating assailants even as they crawled away, pleading and begging.
Harry grinned at the sight. No doubt it was the work of the Twins — or perhaps a very bored Tracey Davis.
He glanced around a little more and saw Cedric and Cho being stopped by Skeeter for an interview. Both of them looked rather irked at having their date interrupted.
Further along the road, a few boys were relentlessly following Fleur's enchanting footsteps. They all kept a respectful distance between themselves and her while shoving and arguing with each other about who got to be the one in the front.
Once again, there was no luck in spotting Daphne. Still, with her constantly on his mind, Harry hadn't really felt that alone today.
There was still quite a bit of time left before he was slated to meet Hagrid, and then Sirius, later tonight.
A nap was definitely in order.
*O*O*O*
It was later that night that Harry had snuck away undetected under his cloak. Neville had helped him leave through the portrait while the rest of the common room was distracted by a rousing game of Exploding Snap.
He did as he was instructed and silently followed Hagrid, who was accompanied by the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, through the Forbidden Forest.
He watched his step, trying his best not to snap any twigs. That was becoming increasingly difficult given how far into the forest they had come.
All the while, Harry wondered just what was hidden away that Hagrid thought it necessary to show rather than tell him.
*O*O*O*
Despite his invisibility Harry still hid, crouched by the bushes that encircled the encampment made by the two dozen or so wizards deep in the Forbidden Forest.
He couldn't believe his eyes.
Dragons.
Four of them in total. Three were in large metal cages, while a fourth was being backed slowly into an open one by several wand-wielding wizards.
Somewhere deep in the primitive, lizard part of Harry's brain, he felt true, primordial fear. Every instinct that his synapses were firing off was begging him to run, wobbling knees or not.
It whipped its long neck around dangerously like a cobra, the toothy maw at the end snapping at the air threateningly. A half dozen of the wizards were trying to corral it to its cage, urging it back meter by meter with glowing-tipped wands.
A floating cuff and chain was conjured around the base of its neck, and, as if sensing its imminent capture, the colossal creature tilted its head back. It unleashed a jet of flames into the night with a shuddering roar as a final, defiant act. Nearly ten meters in length, the pillar of fire illuminated everything around it. Wizards rushed around, stamping out errant flames with a variety of spells, while the rest finally subdued it into its cage.
Harry's jaw hung ajar. It took the combined power of that many wizards to even control that thing safely.
What did they expect a bunch of teenagers to do against it?
Running was certainly the first and foremost thought in his head. But with its size, there would be no outrunning a dragon. Especially not with those wings — which when splayed out, seemed almost as large as the sails of Drumstrang's boat.
Harry couldn't help but groan softly into his palm. Even then, it had been a tad too loud.
"Who's there?!" The sharp, hissing voice of the Drumstrang's headmaster came from out of the darkness. "Show yourself!"
Thankfully, by the time the man had pulled out his wand, Harry was already gone.
*O*O*O*
Harry rushed back to Gryffindor Tower as fast as he could.
By the time he had returned, the room was clear. Only Neville remained, snoozing on the couch in the dark while waiting for his return. The flame in the fireplace crackled softly amidst his snores.
Checking the time on the grandfather clock, Harry sighed. He'd made it back just in time.
Right on cue, the flame burned a little brighter.
He turned and saw that Sirius' head was sticking out of the fireplace. He looked silly but much healthier than when he'd last seen him.
"Hello, Harry," greeted his godfather with a beaming smile.
Harry couldn't help but smile giddyly at the sight of the man. Immediately, he rushed over, crouched by the fire, and the two began speaking.
*O*O*O*
The next day, Harry awoke feeling a little exhausted.
He hadn't gotten much sleep last night. And he'd nearly gotten into an argument with Ron, who inadvertently interrupted his meeting with Sirius.
It had been especially frustrating for Harry, as he hadn't meant to get himself worked up talking to Ron. Teenage hormones and personal pride got in the way of things and were a difficult combination to choke down for both boys.
He wanted them both to just… forgive each other and go back to the way things had been. But Harry didn't want to be the one to apologise first, especially not when he didn't think he was in the wrong.
Thankfully, a drowsy Neville had stepped between the two and mediated before things could get out of hand, but both Ron and Harry had returned to bed still annoyed at the other.
Sirius' advice and warnings had kept him up too. Now Harry was a little concerned about Kakaroff's presence around him. Even his idol, Viktor Krum, could be a puppet for the ex-dark wizard to use. It was unlikely that was the case, seeing that Krum was more interested in speaking to Hermione than performing any plots, but Harry supposed there wasn't any harm in him keeping his distance for now.
Pulling himself through the day's classes, Harry only seemed to be energized whenever Daphne was in the room with him.
They finally got to speak to each other in the Clubhouse after the day's lessons were over.
"I missed you at Hogsmeade," mumbled the blonde as she hugged Harry tightly. He buried his face into her hair. As he took in her scent, Harry felt the tenseness in his shoulders fade away.
"I missed you too."
It wasn't much longer before the rest came, and Harry broke down the details of yesterday's meetings with the rest.
"Dragons?" Neville gulped, looking rightfully frightened. "Why would they make you fight dragons?"
"I think I heard Charlie Weasley say that we're just supposed to get past them… But he could also have been mistaken." Fighting a dragon didn't sound too out of the ordinary for him. After the horror of being selected for the games had faded, it really was just another year at Hogwarts.
"I'm starting to question the proposed safety measures of this tournament," said Hermione with a frown.
Daphne nodded in agreement, clearly peeved. "What on Earth is stopping a dragon from outright killing a contestant?"
"The dragon handlers, hopefully." Though he said that, Harry knew the wizards on the sidelines would never be fast enough to stop a dragon from frying a student. He'd seen how fast it took for a dragon to unleash that torrent of fire.
Harry's faith in them, or lack thereof, wasn't exactly unfounded. Every year, whenever there seemed to be trouble, safety measures were implemented to help him and the other students. Yet, more often than not, those safety measures seemed to fail inexplicably.
Worse yet, the safety measures eventually added to the source of his troubles.
Tracey leaned on the table, fingers laced under her chin. "Maybe Dumbledore's got another special circle to stop the dragons from turning ya to char." Harry just made a grim smile. Given that the first measure set in place, the age line, had failed spectacularly, Harry wasn't holding his breath on being saved by the headmaster.
"Then it's a bloody good thing I've been hard at work with my Transfigurations then." Creating a few barriers out of the ground wouldn't be an issue for him any longer. He only hoped it'd be enough to provide suitable cover from the dragon's breath.
Daphne seemed to be a bit more at ease hearing that he had some measure of protection. "At least you'll have that. Well done, Harry."
"A well-done Harry?" said Tracey with a proud grin, "Yum." Daphne clicked her tongue disapprovingly while the rest of the table shared an exasperated sigh at that joke.
With that terrible, dire joke out of the way, they spent the next few hours gathering books and researching as much as they could about dragons. Hermione led the rest through discussions on the subject, making sure to dispense as much information as possible to their friend.
*O*O*O*
The next day, Harry slept a little better, though not by much. With each passing day, he couldn't help but dread the arrival of the First Task.
Even though he knew what awaited him, it didn't make it any less worrying.
It was sometime just before lunch that he purposely spilled the contents of Cedric's backpack with a well-placed Diffindo, allowing him to find a moment with his fellow champion to share his findings.
"Cedric," muttered Harry urgently, "it's dragons! The first task is dragons!"
"What?" Cedric looked as though Harry was telling him a tall tale to trick him. Then he unfurrowed his brow, realising that Harry had no reason to lie to him. "Seriously?"
"Seen it with my own eyes. One for each of us. I think we've got to get past them." He passed one of Cedric's books back to him.
Cedric looked rather surprised as he digested that information. Harry didn't blame him. Dropping that bombshell on him on such short, unexpected notice was likely very disconcerting. But likely better than finding out the day of.
Cedric's features softened, and he smiled kindly to his friend and competitor. "Thanks for the heads-up, Harry. I really appreciate it."
"Thank me when you've made it through intact, Cedric." Harry tapped him lightly on the shoulder, "There's no chance I'll ever play against Hufflepuff without you there. You still owe me a win."
"Then better dragons than Dementors, eh?" he chuckled nervously.
Before Cedric could say any more, Moody appeared from a nearby hallway with his usual scowl.
"Potter, a word." He hadn't been asking. Then he glanced at Cedric, and his scowl deepened. "Class has started for your year, Diggory. Get going."
Cedric looked to Harry as if to ask him if it was alright. Harry merely raised his hand in reassurance. The Hufflepuff gave one last glance towards Harry, then Moody, before turning with his arm full of his loose stationery.
"Come on then," Moody said, his peg leg clanking against the stone floor, "to my office."
Harry followed him obediently, lest he find himself also turning into a ferret.
*O*O*O*
Harry had accompanied Moody to his office for a short while. It had been a rather insightful session.
The scarred man had told him about a brief history of cheating in the Triwizard Tournament. Then he heavily implied for Harry to play to his strengths and make use of his talents on a broom. There wasn't a rule permitting him to make use of any magical items after they were initially inspected.
Harry wondered if that rule would excuse him from using his Portkey.
He didn't think so.
In any case, it wouldn't be a problem for him to call his broom given how much practice he had put into using Accio. As it was the only one available to him, Harry had told Professor Moody that he'd strongly consider the idea but was that really the best plan available?
He'd seen those big, leathery wings, and the immense size of the dragons meant that those wings were both strong enough to lift and to propel it. And didn't dragons hunt by flying? Surely they'd be just as fast as he was on a broom.
As he mulled over Moody's suggestion, it was sounding less and less favourable.
Ah, but perhaps he'd have less objections about it tomorrow when he was scared out of his mind and running for his life. At least Harry still had the nerve to laugh at himself as he returned to the Clubhouse.
"What the matter?" asked Daphne from the floor as Harry entered.
"It's just my nerves," said Harry before he looked down, pointing out the obvious to the both of them. "You're sitting on a bed."
She was sitting gracefully on a mattress that had been placed on the floor of the classroom, which had been wiped and washed. It wasn't like the usual, thin mats that he used for his training. Instead, it was as large as the ones they slept on in their rooms.
A loose blanket had pooled around Daphne's figure as if she had cast it off the moment he had entered.
She laughed. "Unusually astute today, aren't you?"
"Why are you sitting on a bed?" he asked.
"Don't be silly, Harry." Daphne gestured to the cold, hard stone surrounding the soft, springy oasis. "It's the only comfy place around."
"…How did you get a mattress in here?" It was far too big and bulky to have been taken down the hallways without anyone seeing her.
"I had some help," she winked before making her intentions rather obvious by petting the bed invitingly.
Harry didn't seem to get the message. "Not going to elaborate?"
"Going to keep asking questions?" sighed Daphne.
"Yes?" he replied.
Her boyfriend really wasn't getting the message.
"Then no," she shook her head, "not for now."
Harry stepped closer, arms crossed. He looked amused at his girlfriend's coyness. "You've been spending far too much time with Tracey."
"You're a few years too late to be telling me that." She reached out and tugged on the hem of his shirt. "Now come on and join me, I've been freezing waiting for you to get here."
Having to spell out her intentions to her obtuse boyfriend, while disappointing, was somewhat adorable. That childish innocence he seemed to balance precariously with his flirtatious side made for quite the combo.
"Yes, Milady," said Harry as he settled into the spot next to her. He grabbed the blanket and threw it around the both of them while she leaned into his side. His arm snaked around her waist, holding her close to him.
"Better?" he asked.
"Much," she said, satisfied at the newfound warmth he provided.
He was reminded of the day she had stayed with him in the infirmary. "What would the others say if they saw us now?"
"Hopefully nothing. I've asked them all for a bit of privacy. Just for the rest of the night."
"You're planning to stay here for the rest of the night?"
"Aren't you?"
Harry seemed to finally get the message.
Leave it to her clueless boyfriend not to pick up on the earlier hints she was giving him.
"Well, it does have everything I need here for a good night's sleep." He began to rattle off a short list of things, knocking his fingers down from his outstretched hand as he counted. "Soft bed, warm blanket, gorgeous girlfriend…"
She giggled. "Enough flattery. I'm the one who's supposed to be keeping you comfy." Harry admitted that she was doing a fantastic job at distracting him. He'd nearly forgotten that he would be called upon for the First Task tomorrow.
They sat there for another ten minutes, telling each other little jokes and chatting about their day. Then she filled the silence by serenading him with a gentle hum. Harry didn't recognise the tune, but thought it was hopeful and light — the sort of sound you'd hear whilst frolicking through the woods during a bright, sunny Spring.
Though he hadn't ever heard her actually sing, Harry liked her voice. Even a low hum like that made him feel very much at ease. He hoped he'd be able to hear more of her musical talents in the future, especially with the gift he had gotten her.
Eventually, her tune ended, fading away like Spring did into Summer.
A few moments later, she glanced at him.
"Won't you lay with me, Harry?"
"But Daphne…" protested Harry shyly, his eyes wide with pretend incredulity. "We haven't even kissed on the lips yet!"
"Ah!" she lifted her elbow, lightly jamming it into his ribs. She scoffed, knowing full well that he knew what she had meant. Even still, her alabaster skin had taken a pink hue at her misconstrued message. "Not like that! You cheeky little…"
Harry was chortling against her ear now like a mischievous schoolboy. Daphne rolled her eyes and, after a moment, couldn't help but join him in the laughter.
"Alright, now just… relax." She placed her hand on his chest, using it to gently press him back as she leaned into him. Harry did not attempt to resist. The two tumbled backwards and onto the bed, their blanket still wrapped around them.
She pecked him on the neck, just under the side of his chin. It was the sort of kiss that would make a nun weep. Her lips lingered against his skin, just barely, as if she were taking in a heavy drink — or trying to leave a mark on him.
Harry's smile turned woozy. The kiss had already addled his mind. "Now I wonder what they'd say."
"Hush," commanded Daphne gently, millimetres away from his jaw. She threw in a few more of those kisses for good measure.
It was more than enough to send him into a dizzying silence.
*O*O*O*
Night had come and the two were still wrapped up in the blanket, but neither had slept a wink. Harry had his head rested on the pillow, while Daphne had taken up her favourite spot by nestling into the crook of his shoulder.
"Still nervous?" she asked. The way the moonlight was shining down upon them made Harry's side profile stand out to her.
Harry mumbled. "Not right now. Not since you sang that lullaby. But those kisses definitely sealed the deal." Not to mention that it was very difficult to get nervous while cuddling with the love of his life.
"Good." Daphne traced a fingernail over his arm.
To her smaller, frailer frame, Harry was sturdy as a rock and felt indestructible. He had been through so much —survived so much, and yet she couldn't help but fret over him.
After all, how many girls could say their boyfriends went up against a fire-breathing dragon and lived to tell the tale?
Worryingly few of them, she reckoned.
Though she tried her best not to worry, these thoughts had been growing inside of her since he had found out it had been dragons he was up against. She knew it wasn't good to keep secrets from Harry. She knew he certainly didn't want her to either.
She took a deep breath before finally sharing her thoughts.
"I'm nervous."
"What about?"
"The task, Harry."
He took a second to mull over her words.
"For me?" said Harry, "Or for the dragon?"
Those kisses really must have turned his brain into putty.
"The drag—?! Of course you, you pillock." Daphne scoffed, batting him in the chest. Her hand bounced off harmlessly.
Harry smiled at her outburst to his teasing, choosing to stroke her hair lovingly, the way one would a cat in their lap. "I think you should leave the worrying to me. I'm much better at that than you are."
Despite his words, Harry's tone was calm and relaxed. Not the least bit worried, which was exactly what Daphne had wanted. And though she didn't want to ruin the trance-like state he'd achieved, now that nervous energy had transferred to her, and was climbing and crawling itself out of her throat.
"But we didn't even come up with a proper plan for you to face it," she whined, feeling rather guilty that yesterday's discussion seemed to have garnered little to no practical results.
When it came to learning anything from Hermione, the lecture had been packed with information. They'd even covered the behavioural signs and patterns for several dragons likely to appear.
"I think I learned plenty," joked Harry. "At the very least, I know how a Finnish Flarehead courts its mate."
The very least they had done was to try and narrow down one of the species of dragon Harry had seen.
The Hungarian Horntail was a particularly brutal breed of dragon. Even just reading the description of it from the book had left them all deeply unsettled at the idea of even being in the same space as such a dangerous creature.
But a useful piece of information was to target a dragon's eyes, which were their weak spots. Harry thought it was going to be a little challenging given their towering sizes. He'd certainly give it a try but he had seen how mobile the Horntail's neck was, so that was certainly going to be no simple feat.
Antifire potions were suggested to be taken before he started too, but was ultimately shot down. The shimmering orange effect that would protect him would give him away to the judges immediately.
There wasn't exactly a trove of information available when it came to fighting dragons all by yourself. Most wizards had agreed that running was the best option and that standing your ground on your own was akin to suicide.
Yet again, they had questioned why the judges had agreed to bring in such a deadly dragon.
"Anyway, I'll just have to do what I do best whenever I'm in trouble," Harry assured her.
"And what's that?"
"I'll, uh… improvise," said Harry with a slight shrug.
Hearing that, Daphne immediately shut her eyes and made another silent prayer. This one was to any angels watching over her idiot boyfriend.
"Are you praying for me?" he said, barely putting in any effort in pretending to sound offended.
She was pinching the bridge of her nose now. "Someone needs to look out for you."
"Ye of little faith?" He asked with a smirk before he shook his head imperceptibly, likely at her worry. "I will have someone with me."
She cocked a brow, confused. "I doubt they'll let you work in pairs. You'll be all alone tomorrow, Harry."
"No, I won't. I'll have you," he replied confidently, "and the rest too. You'll all be there — in spirit, at the very least. Plus, I'll have everything you all have taught me." He reached inside the blanket, producing the wand that had practically become a part of him at this point.
He had gotten so acquainted with it over the last few months that he knew every last groove. He waved it gently, carving gestures she recognised through the air.
"Example being the arsenal of charms I've learnt from you." His wand vanished back under the covers, his hand returning back to resting on her waist. "And I'll know you'll all be watching and supporting me. If that isn't enough for me, then I don't know what is."
Daphne regarded him for a little longer before she shuffled in his grasp. She pulled herself backwards along the bed so that she was now eye to eye with him, and placed a long, scorching kiss on his cheek.
Lingering for as long as she could before finally pulling away, Daphne cupped a gentle hand around his other cheek. Guiding him to face her, she regarded him with a cross look and a small pout. "Fine. Just know that if you die, you'll be missing out on our first kiss."
It was hard for Harry to take her seriously when she looked so cute.
He pressed his forehead to hers, taking in her scent for the millionth time. The faint smell of cherries filled his nose. He would never get sick of it.
"Consider me suitably motivated to live then."
They separated a moment later. Daphne took her hand off his face and pressed it to his chest again. Every time she did it, his heart would start to race a little faster. Harry didn't think he'd really ever get used to the rush of adrenaline he felt at her touch.
Slightly distracted by her touch, he only just realized that her blue eyes had started to water, and now his full attention was back on her.
"Seriously, Harry. I don't…" Daphne choked, trailing off.
Harry began to hush her, wiping away the stray tear with his thumb. Looking at her now, he was strongly reminded of Astoria and when she had cried for him in the hallway.
Daphne shook her head, still insisting on speaking. She took another moment to find the words.
"...I don't know what I'd do with myself if you died."
It was such a strange, silly thing to say. It really was.
Just like Harry, she was only fourteen, going on fifteen. Just a mere teenager who still had a lifetime or two ahead of her. She could easily find another. With her appearance, as well as the money and influence of the Greengrass name, it wouldn't even take an iota of effort on her part. She could have suitors lining at the door for miles on end for a chance to even court her.
And yet, the thought of replacing Harry with another… it just wasn't a possibility. Such was the attraction her soul felt for his. She would never settle for anyone else. If he died, Daphne fully expected to live out the rest of her days unmarried — alone. There would never be a person who could fill that void, no matter how much time passed. She'd spend the rest of her life as chaste as a nun, praying to be reunited with him in the afterlife or to be by his side in their next.
Hmm. Maybe she did know what she would do if he died.
She hadn't needed to say anything else for Harry to understand every unspoken thought. Of course, he shared the sentiment.
He put her worries to rest, slipping his hand into hers. He gently brought her knuckles to his lips and brushed against it as a knight would to a princess.
"I will be with you. Every step of the way." He squeezed her hand, "I swear."
"Cross your heart?"
"Crossed," Harry promised, "and a needle in my eye if I lie."
"A million," she insisted.
"Okay— well, a million seems a little excessive."
"A billion." she countered, her tone light but resolute.
"Alright, alright." Conceding, he let her go and put his hands up in defeat. "It'll take a while… but a billion needles it is milady."
"Thank you." Her voice had gone hoarse from all the talking they had been doing, but Daphne didn't think she'd ever get sick of it so long as it was Harry on the other end of the conversation. She hugged him, then pressed her cheek up against his. They stayed like that for a moment longer before she whispered into his ear. "Le sang de mon sang. Je te bénis."
"What was that, Madame Greengrass?" asked Harry quietly, his attempt at a French accent bringing a smile to her lips.
At least he was getting better at it.
Daphne rubbed his arm lovingly with a tender hand. "Just a blessing my mother taught me when I was learning French, Monsieur Potter."
Blood of my blood. I bless you.
It was meant to be used between family members but Daphne had opened it up to him, for she knew they shared a bond that was deeper than blood.
A while later, the two pairs of eyelids fluttered shut as sleep claimed them. Daphne was the first to go, head limp against his shoulder and mouth slightly ajar. It wasn't often she slept so carefreely, but she allowed herself to be completely defenceless in Harry's protective grasp.
Harry stayed awake for as long as he could, just watching her sleep. Then, as his heavy eyelids sank shut, he too succumbed to sleep.
That night, he slept well — and dreamt even better.
*O*O*O*
Chapter 13: End
*O*O*O*
A/N:
Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
Sorry, I've been gone for a while. My medical condition worsened and it took a severe toll on my mental health so I've been putting off finishing the (two) chapter(s).
It was really fun to write the ending scenes between the two, and I hope it wasn't too over the top (Okay, maybe it is but still...).
In any case, I'm really hoping to delve into more intimate scenes (I'm sure you can figure out the one that's coming up) between the two — which may become a little steamy so stay tuned!
There are also going to be a lot of character interactions in the next chapter (because these chapters were supposed to be read all at once), so if you're big on that then congratulations!
As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! Thank you and see you again soon.