Chapter 17: Do You Trust Me

The morning sun streamed into the hospital wing, spilling light across Harry's bed. He sat upright, his expression a mixture of confusion and weariness as he looked between his visitors. Daphne sat beside him, her posture as composed as ever, though her fingers tapped rhythmically against her crossed arms. Hermione lingered near the foot of the bed, her brow furrowed in concern, while Ron slouched in a chair nearby, arms folded and scowling.

"So… you're all friends now?" Harry asked, the confusion evident in his tone.

Ron snorted. "Friends? That remains to be seen."

Harry frowned and glanced at Daphne, who rolled her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ron straightened in his chair, his expression hard. "It means that while you were unconscious, I decided to look into a few things. Wrote to my dad and asked him about the Greengrasses."

Harry's frown deepened, but he stayed silent, letting Ron continue.

"And?" Hermione asked cautiously, though the tension in her voice was unmistakable.

"And he told me their family used to be tied to the Death Eaters," Ron said bluntly, his gaze snapping to Daphne. "Said they only got off because they weaseled their way out of punishment after the war."

Hermione straightened up , her wide eyes darting to Daphne, who sat still as stone, her face betraying nothing.

"What did I tell you, Weasley?" Daphne said coldly, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. "Harry already knows."

Ron ignored her, his focus shifting back to Harry. "Is she tell me the truth mate? Did you know about this?"

"Yes," Harry said flatly.

"And you didn't think it was worth mentioning? Her parents were bloody Death Eater supporters!" Ron shot back, his voice rising.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What would I have mentioned, Ron? That Daphne told me about her family and made it clear she's not like them? Or that I trust her because she's given me every reason to?"

Ron scoffed. "That's great, Harry, but Malfoy doesn't think so. When I confronted him after detention, he said she's using you. Playing some long game."

Harry's expression darkened, and he sat up straighter. "Really? You're listening to Malfoy now? You're taking his word over mine? Are you hearing yourself?"

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Harry cut him off.

"Tell me something, Ron," Harry said, his voice calm but firm. "Do you trust me?"

Ron blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Of course I do, mate."

Harry's gaze flicked to Hermione. "What about you, Hermione? Do you trust me?"

Hermione hesitated only for a moment before nodding. "Always."

"Then trust me when I say this: Daphne isn't like her parents. She's not like Malfoy, or anyone else you're comparing her to. She's one of us."

Ron looked unconvinced, but Hermione placed a gentle hand on his arm. "If Harry trusts her, we should too," she said softly.

Ron huffed, looking between Harry and Daphne before throwing his hands up. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you if this goes sideways."

Daphne let out a quiet sigh, her icy mask cracking slightly as she glanced at Harry. "I don't need your approval, Weasley," she said evenly. "But for the record, I'm not here to play games. I have enough of that to deal with in Slytherin."

Hermione stepped closer, her expression softening as she looked at Daphne. "I don't think you're like them," she said gently. "Not after what you said to me the other day. I meant it when I said I look forward to the time we spend together."

Daphne stiffened at Hermione's words, unused to such open kindness, but she nodded. "Thanks," she said quietly, her voice almost uncertain.

Harry leaned back against his pillows, the tension in the room slowly easing. "You'll see, Ron," he said, his voice quieter now. "Daphne's not who you think she is. Give her a chance."

Ron muttered something under his breath but didn't argue further.

As the tension in the hospital wing began to ease, Madame Pomfrey bustled over, announcing that Harry needed rest. Hermione gave Harry an encouraging smile before leaving with Daphne, the latter walking beside her with an air of composure, though harry could feel just the faintest notion of unease. Daphne turned back to look at Harry one more time, giving him a smile. Harry felt like she had jisy given him a hug.

Ron lingered by the door, his hands jammed into his pockets. Harry caught his eye.

"Ron, wait a second," Harry called, his voice low enough that Madame Pomfrey didn't scold him for raising it.

Ron hesitated before trudging back to Harry's bedside, his expression guarded.

"What's up?" he asked, leaning against the post of the bed.

Harry glanced toward the door to make sure Hermione and Daphne were gone before locking eyes with Ron. "I wanted to talk to you, just us."

Ron raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. "If this is about her—"

"It is," Harry interrupted, sitting up straighter. "Ron, I get why you're suspicious. I really do. But I need you to trust me on this."

Ron let out a scoff. "It's not just suspicion, Harry. She's a Slytherin. A Greengrass, no less. Their whole family—"

"I know all about her family," Harry cut in firmly. "She told me. And I believe her when she says she's not like them. The things that they did to her..."

"How can you be so sure?" Ron asked, exasperated. "You barely know her."

Harry paused, considering his next words carefully. "Because I've seen her, Ron. I've seen her choices, the way she carries herself, the way she handled herself in the forest. She didn't have to help me that night. She could've left me to die, but she didn't. She fought with me, stood by me."

Ron frowned but didn't interrupt.

"And if you're going to judge her just because she's in Slytherin, then you might as well judge me too," Harry continued.

Ron blinked. "What are you on about?"

Harry hesitated for a moment before speaking. "The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin."

"What?" Ron finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You heard me," Harry said. "It told me I'd do well there. Said I had ambition, cunning—things that apparently make a great Slytherin. But I asked it not to. I asked to be anywhere else."

Ron's mouth opened and closed as if he couldn't quite form a coherent response.

Harry pressed on. "So if you're going to hold being a Slytherin against Daphne, what does that say about me? That I'd be a snake too if I hadn't begged the hat for something else? Who knows maybe I would have ended up in Slytherin if Malfoy had not introduced himself before the sorting."

"That's not—" Ron started, then stopped. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Harry, I trust you. I do. But this is… it's hard, okay? My family's been against everything her family stands for. You can't just expect me to forget all that overnight."

"I'm not asking you to forget," Harry said quietly. "I'm asking you to give her a chance. Like I did."

Ron stared at him for a long moment, then let out a frustrated groan. "Fine. I'll try. But if she gives me even one reason to think she's playing us—"

"She won't," Harry said firmly.

Ron shook his head. "I hope you're right, mate."

"I am," Harry said, his voice steady. "You'll see."

Ron gave him a reluctant nod before turning to leave. As the door swung shut behind him, Harry leaned back against his pillows, exhaustion creeping back over him.