Nothing is mine.

Someone finally finds a way to shut Harry up (temporarily)

Twilight and Evening Bell

Daphne's bedroom was full of the sweet fragrance of flowers; their soft aroma clung like the finest perfume to all the petals — blooming in every shade and hue of red Harry had ever seen in dozens of shining glass vases across every spare surface, upon the deep red carpet at the edges of the bare stone walls and crammed, heaving bookshelves, and even hanging from thin metal wires from the ceiling above the hovering enchanted lights. Their scent clung to the garnet silk covers and pillows, the ivory sheets beneath them and the thick deep burgundy curtains drawn across the whole large arched glass window save for one small sliver at the very top. A chink of sunlight spilt through that gap from the pale marble statues, rockeries, fountains and ferns of the small walled garden beyond, falling upon the painting of four figures hanging on the wall behind the door.

'Do you like it?' Daphne lingered at the foot of her bed, before all the red flowers.

Her blonde hair, slim braids and all, was caught up in an elegant knot and crowned with a single cluster of cardinal flower blooms, but one lock of gold hung free, fluttering before her pretty nose and her soft crimson-glossed lips. The red buttons of her snow-white blouse ran in a neat little line of tiny flowers over the swell of her chest and down to the folded waistline of a charcoal skirt that hung a handful of inches above her bare knees.

The elegant curved petals of scarlet bee balm flower hanging from her right ear by a single crimson thread swayed as she cocked her head. 'Harry?'

He tore his eyes away from her. 'It's amazing,' Harry whispered, bursting with butterflies at every beat of his racing heart. 'I feel like I've stumbled into a fairytale and somehow ended up in the princess's bedroom.'

A hint of pink rose on Daphne's cheeks. 'I am no princess, Harry.'

'I know,' Harry said. 'There was no dragon outside to fight. A real princess would have a dragon guarding her. You sort of have a tower and you definitely have lots of flowers and you're very pretty like a princess—' Harry bit the rest of that ramble off before any more butterflies escaped his mouth or, worse, any more words did. 'At least I was right about the bedroom part.'

Daphne's dimples danced on her cheeks, her blue eyes full of bright soaring spring skies, and the butterflies burst through him, whirling in wild spirals around his heart.

He flushed. 'I mean, clearly I was very lucky and got all the best parts of a princess without the dragon.' Harry paused. 'Unless… you didn't happen to have a pet Hungarian Horntail, did you?'

That impish little grin flashed across her face and her small soft chuckle snatched Harry's heart out from among the butterflies and tossed it somewhere high up into the warmth of the sun. 'I did not, no.'

'Good.' He abandoned his heart as lost, since whatever had stolen it didn't seem to be bringing it back, and smiled. 'It wasn't very friendly, and you shouldn't try and have a close relationship with anything that likely to set fire to you; it's just common sense really.'

'Hush, Harry,' Daphne murmured, stealing closer.

'Hush?'

'Hush.' She reached up and drew his mouth down to hers.

'Oh.' He smiled against her lips. 'Hush.'

'Yes.' A wild little spark welled up in Daphne's blue eyes and she crushed her mouth against his. 'Hush.'

Harry stumbled back as she pushed herself against him, catching his elbow on the wooden foot of her bed and sitting down on the red silk covers. Daphne placed a bare knee either side of his legs and straddled his lap, clutching the front of his t-shirt tight in her fists to keep their lips together as her kisses turned hot and hungry.

The butterflies' frenzied fluttering sent small bright sparks racing through his veins as he slid his hands up her bare thighs to where the hem of her charcoal skirt hung.

'This one is even shorter than the last one,' he reckoned between Daphne's kisses. 'A whole inch short at least.'

'Hush, Harry.' Pink blossomed across her face, her cheeks flushed and glowing, but the wild light in her eyes lingered as she stared down at him, the open red button on her blouse trembling with each rise and fall of her chest. 'Kiss me.'

Harry laughed. 'Yes, Lady Daphgrass.'

He let her drag his mouth up to the smudged, crimson gloss of her soft lips, tracing his fingertips up the outside of her thighs under her skirt until he felt the hem of smooth lace and Daphne's breath hitched.

'Sorry,' Harry murmured. 'I—'

'More,' she whispered, the tip of her tongue grazing his lips; she lowered herself down into his lap with a shaky little breath, her warm weight resting right against him.

The small sparks rushing through Harry's veins burst into flame and all the butterflies swirled together into a tight, hot, trembling ball inside. 'I'm not entirely sure what more means here, Daph?'

Daphne's hands slid up into his hair; she rested her forehead on his temple, brushing the tip of her pretty nose against his cheek, but a fierce hunger burnt in the blue eye Harry could see. 'Kiss me more,' she breathed. 'I do not mind where you put your hands as long as you kiss me more.'

Harry swallowed that ball of butterflies, easing her onto the red silk bed covers. 'So this is okay?'

'Hush, Harry.' Daphne pulled him down atop her and turned her lips up toward him; she tugged half her hair from its elegant knot, spilling a cascade of golden braids across the crimson covers as he rested his knees between her legs.

She melted into his kisses, clutching at his t-shirt, slipping her arms around his neck to cling to him, keeping her mouth against his even in the brief moments she paused to breathe. Harry ran his fingertips over the lace of her underwear, following their hem with his little finger as he traced the curves beneath her skirt.

Daphne nipped at his lower lip with her teeth as he gave her a gentle squeeze. 'Careful, Harry—' the wild light in her blue eyes danced like fire '—you should not tempt me too much.'

He drew his hands back, putting them either side of where her blonde hair spilt across the red silk pillow, and his fingertips brushed something smooth and cool. 'What's under here?' Harry pulled out the enchanted mirror he'd given her. 'Oh, you really do keep it under your pillow.'

The tips of her ears turned pink. 'Put it back, Harry. I preferred your hands where they were.'

He poked it into the gap between the two pillows, brushing one of Daphne's blonde braids away from the glass.

'Wait.' Harry blinked. 'Why does…?' He held the golden braid up before the mirror. 'Why aren't you in the mirror?' He laughed to himself. 'Are you a jampire, Daph?'

Daphne froze. 'I — I —' Her blue eyes went wide, bright as the spring sky, but shining in them was a dreadful, desperate hope, blazing like the sinking late summer sun. 'I do not—' Her expression crumbled and she turned away, curling up into a small ball and wrapping her arms around herself. 'I am sorry,' she whispered. 'Please, Harry, please do not leave.'

'Leave?' Harry tested the horrible fragility of the word, weighing it on the tip of his tongue. 'Why would I leave, Daph?'

She hugged herself tighter.

All the butterflies wriggled around in the pit of Harry's stomach, flailing their little wings and legs.

'Daph?' Harry lay down beside her, slipping one arm through the crook of her neck to pull her close against him. 'You can take as long as you like,' he promised. 'I don't want to push you.'

'You should not even touch me,' Daphne whispered. 'You should go far away from me. I am cursed.'

'Both you and—'

'Everyone thinks Astoria's eyes mean it is her, but my little sister is barely touched; were she not marked, she could only pass it on to any daughters she might bear. I —' Daphne's voice shrank to the tiniest murmur '—I am the monster, Harry.'

'You look much more like a princess to me,' Harry said. 'Unless there are some horns under those flowers?' He poked them. 'Nope, just your really pretty hair.'

A small hiccup of a chuckle escaped Daphne. 'I am not a princess. And I do not know how to tell you what I am, but…'

'Just say it.' He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her head where the mussed red cardinal flowers trembled to the beat of her heart, breathing in her sweet, sharp spearmint scent alongside the flowers' fragrance. 'Go from the start.'

'The start,' she whispered. 'I told you the start. My ancestor offered her unborn twin daughters to Death in return for helping to bring Winter to our fading world.'

'And it all went horribly wrong.' Something in Harry recalled a smile, a smile that stretched wider and wider and wider — much too wide for the face that wore it and much too sharp for any smile at all — and one single golden eye that burnt with all the dying light of the setting sun. 'I'm probably just going to accept that it's a thing and not think about how that curse might have come about. Although I am starting to have the feeling I'm going to find out anyway at some point. Invisibility cloaks do not just disappear and I've been remarkably cheerful since the end of last summer despite seeing some really creepy things.'

Daphne wrapped her hands around his arm and clutched it tight to her chest. 'When my ancestor's twin daughters were born, they were born cursed; cursed to hunger for life and doomed to never be truly sated by any part of it. My family has the mark, the magic to prevent the conception of daughters, but my father, never having had a sister, or an aunt of his blood, dearly wished for a daughter, and did not listen to the warnings. So I was born. And by the time my little sister was conceived, my father had realised his folly, but it was too late.'

'Oh.' Harry reached up with his free hand to run his fingers through her hair. 'So you…?'

'I am cursed.' Her grip on his arm tightened to the point of pain. 'I crave it, Harry. Crave it in every form I can imagine. Whether it is cooking, or colour, or kissing, I just… need more.'

He pulled her a little closer and smiled as she melted into his arms. 'So why can't I see you in the mirror? I thought that was vampires.'

'I am not dissimilar,' Daphne confessed. 'I am—' she swallowed hard '—much too similar.'

'Do you bite?' Harry teased.

She twisted in his embrace, her blue eyes very wide and full of soft light as fragile as late Spring frost. 'Yes,' she whispered. 'Not like they do, I just… it is life, blood, and sometimes I just need to see it, or touch it, or…' Daphne's eyes fell.

'Taste it?' Harry murmured, tucking her under his chin.

'Yes,' Daphne confessed. 'I told you not to tempt me; I did try and warn you, Harry. I told you not to say things like that to me, but you do not know a monster when you see one, and you kept saying nice things and that I was pretty and I just… How was I meant to resist forever?'

'You don't have very big teeth,' he said. 'And they're not that sharp. I don't think you're that scary, how much damage could you even do if you decided to have a little nibble?'

Daphne drew back. 'I can bend a steel bar as thick as your arm into a circle with my bare hands, Harry. Y Syd a Hunvreal yn Angau, Those Who Dream in Death, are capable of much, even without a wand.'

'But those are your hands not your teeth, so it would be cheating.' Harry flashed her a warm grin.

'Do not laugh, Harry,' she whispered. 'You do not understand. I killed her. She was so happy and alive, and I bit her over and over and over while Astoria screamed and screamed and screamed. And then she was cold and dead, and they locked me in here for five years until they were sure I could be good again. And Astoria has not spoken a word to me that she was not forced to say since.'

His smile faded. 'Who? Who did you hurt? Your mum?'

'Tracey.' Daphne buried her face in his chest. 'The girl on the vase.'

'Oh.' He smoothed her hair back, tucking that rogue little lock behind her ear. 'But you were really young, right?'

'Ten.'

'It doesn't really seem like it's all your fault,' Harry promised. 'If you weren't cursed…'

'I am.'

'No, I know, but if you weren't—'

'I am. That is what I am. Cursed. I like red flowers, and I like red cushions, and red food, and everything that feels alive. I am not like Astoria. Astoria is shy and sweet and kind and Astoria. I am Daphne. And all I am is cursed.'

'You're silly,' Harry blurted.

Daphne tensed up, still and stiff as cold winter steel. 'I am not.'

'You are,' he insisted. 'You're a bit chilly and really anti-social, and I think Hermione started throwing around vaguely rude Japanese words at some point, but I got distracted so I forgot what they were, but that's not really the point. You like all these things because they make you happy and it just doesn't matter that you like them because you're cursed, they still make you happy.' Harry paused as her grip on his arm tightened, her nails biting into his skin. 'Er, please don't try to jampire me?'

'I am not a vampire.'

'I said jampire; it's very different.'

'Ridiculous,' she murmured, but he felt her lips twitch against his collarbone. 'I am not a jampire either, Harry.'

'Good. Our professor last year went to great lengths to warn us just how dangerous they are.' Harry smiled to himself. 'So is that it?'

'Is that…' Daphne drew back and stared at him. 'What do you mean, is that it?!'

'Well, I kind of have loads of questions, but if there's loads more to tell me, I can wait until you're done.'

Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again; the smudged crimson gloss of her lips stirred the butterflies once more, sending them crawling around in the pit of Harry's stomach.

'Actually, before that—' Harry kissed her '—that's better. You look really pretty and kissable when you have red on your lips.'

A little shiver swept through Daphne. 'Harry…'

'Oh, I meant, things like redcurrant, not, you know, blood.' He wrinkled his nose. 'I'd probably still kiss you if it was blood, but it wouldn't be as nice; I don't think blood tastes all that great.'

'You are ridiculous,' she whispered. 'I do not know what to say to make you understand.'

'Does that mean I can ask questions now?'

Daphne stared back at him, her blue eyes a molten, manic tangle of desperate hope and looming dread.

'I shall take that as a yes.' Harry kissed her again and pulled her close with the arm she wasn't clinging to. 'Why are you more cursed than Astoria is?'

'It is the eldest living daughter,' she murmured. 'If my family had killed me, then Astoria would be cursed instead, but while I live, she is only lightly touched.'

'Oh.'

'I could not do that to her,' Daphne whispered. 'So I am still here.'

All the tickling butterfly wings turned sharp as razors in Harry's stomach; they sliced every word upon the tip of his tongue to ribbons.

'Nothing would be lost if not for Astoria.' Her lip trembled and she buried her face in his chest, curling her toes against his shins. 'Are you… are you still going to stay with me?'

'I—'

'I am better now. I can resist. I can help. I have helped. I will help more,' Daphne vowed. 'All of Y Syd a Hunvreal yn Angau, Those Who Dream in Death, are capable of much. I will do anything you ask. I will be your right hand. Your left. Anything you need. Do not… do not leave. I need — you must stay, Harry. I—' her voice shrank to the smallest of whispers '—I have just a single hope.'

'Look how much talking you're doing all of a sudden, Daph.' Harry laughed. 'What happened to that chilly I do not wish to be associated with you, Potter?' He kissed her forehead. 'Were you trying to resist? How silly, you didn't have to.'

Daphne's blue eyes widened; her heart shone in them, bright as the sun in a clear Spring sky. 'Does that mean…?'

He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her lips up to his, drawing her into a soft kiss. 'You still seem much more like a princess than anything else to me.'

She buried her face in the crook of his neck. 'I do not think you really understand, Harry. I cannot resist, not if you push me too far.'

'Resist what? Having a little nibble?' Harry grinned. 'There is absolutely no way you could be worse than a forty foot basilisk; I would much rather be bitten by you than that horrible reptile again.' He hummed. 'Actually, that reminds me, I had loads of jampire questions. Can you go in the sun?'

'You have seen me in the sun many times, Harry,' Daphne murmured. 'I love the sun; all life comes from it. It… tingles after a little while; it is uncomfortable and exciting at the same time, but it does not quite hurt.'

'What about the biting?'

'Anything that is life, I will crave,' she confessed. 'It is bliss. But I can resist the urge, Harry, I will not try and hurt you. I must not.'

Harry turned that over in his head, running his fingers through her blonde hair, brushing his knuckles against the red cardinal flowers' petals there. 'You said food is life.'

'It is.'

'What about all your paintings and drawings?'

'A moment of life, captured forever on a canvas,' she whispered. 'I just… I cannot paint myself.'

'Why not?'

'The curse is what makes me pretty, Harry, and it lets me take no lasting satisfaction or joy in it. I cannot see my own beauty; it cannot last for anyone else, even the memory of it would fade in time.'

'Oh. So that's why the mirror…?'

'Yes.'

'What about kissing?' he asked.

She clammed up, the tips of her ears turning pink.

Harry chuckled. 'That's a yes, isn't it, Daph?'

'It is the hardest part; love is life.' Daphne's whisper tickled his collarbone. 'But I can control it.'

'So if I kiss you now?'

She peeked up at him past the rogue lock of blonde hair, her blue eyes as soft and fragile as spring flowers, and lifted her crimson-smeared lips to his. 'One kiss is only a tiny tug of temptation.'

'What about two kisses?' Harry stole a second.

'It is the same.'

He pressed a third, longer kiss to her lips.

A little colour blossomed across Daphne's cheeks and all the butterflies stirred somewhere in his stomach, tickling him as they tested their small wings. 'You are going to kiss me until I am tempted more.'

He grinned. 'I'm burning with curiosity because you went all pink when I asked. I kind of want to see what happens.'

Her bare toes curled against his legs. 'You should not tempt me that much or I will need something to feed the hunger.'

'I've kissed you lots before.' Harry left lingering little kisses on her lips as the butterflies took wing, rising up in little fluttering clusters to swirl about in his abdomen. 'And you always run away and come back.'

Pink flooded Daphne's cheeks. 'I did not run away, but if I had not gone away then, I would not have been able to resist—' she caught his lower lip between her teeth '—so I went to take the edge off the hunger.'

'How?' Harry glimpsed a flash of fierce, fey craving in her blue eyes as they dropped to his chest and all the butterflies burst through him in a tingling, tickling storm of little fluttering wings. 'Daph?'

'You should stop, Harry,' she whispered. 'You should stop now.'

He slipped his finger beneath her chin and lifted her trembling lips back up to his. 'You don't scare me, Lady Daphgrass; you're much too amazing to be scary. You can tell me. What will you do if I keep kissing you?'

'No.' Daphne shook her head; the flush on her cheeks kept rising until she was bright pink from her chin to the tips of her ears.

All sorts of ideas welled up from the storm of butterflies as it whirled into a tight hot little ball about his heart, turning everything inside into tingling, squirming jam. 'Are you going to make me guess, Daph? I have a few ideas…'

'Stop.' Her fingers curled into his shirt and she kissed him hard, crushing her mouth against his. 'Hush, Harry. Just kiss me.'

He smiled against her lips. 'I'll keep kissing you until you tell me, Daph.'

A little shiver swept through her. 'No. If you kiss me too much and make me tell you, I will not be able to resist.' Her fists clenched, the tips of her fingers tearing through his t-shirt like it was damp paper. 'Please, Harry. I should not.'

'I don't think you came back here to sit quietly and wait it out.' Harry glanced down. 'Also, I kind of liked that t-shirt.'

'Sorry,' Daphne whispered. 'I just… you are making this very hard. I have to resist and you keep—'

He kissed her upturned lips, tasting the faint tang of the crimson gloss smeared across them. 'Just tell me.'

'You know what I do.' She buried her burning face in his chest. 'I come back here and I… touch myself until it goes away.'

The butterflies burst into flames, streaking through Harry's veins in bright, blazing little sparks. 'That doesn't seem so terrible.' He kissed the top of her head. 'I don't know why you'd run away, though; you're my girlfriend, I think that's the sort of thing you're supposed to do with me.'

'No.' Daphne's teeth grazed his collarbone. 'I do not know if I could stop and — and life and love, and… making love are not meant to be done in hunger. I… I cannot have children. There is no long-lasting happiness that can come from creating life for me because of the curse, no matter how much I might want to.' Her fingers traced his chest through the tears in his shirt. 'It would be a hollow mockery of something sacred; no matter how much I love you, I cannot make it last while I am cursed.'

'You said you loved me,' Harry murmured; the burning butterflies melted into something very very soft, like a single drop of sunlight shining somewhere inside his chest. 'Daph…?'

'I do,' she breathed, 'I promise I do, you are so sweet, but… I need…' Daphne twisted away from him and bit her finger so hard the knuckle between her neat white teeth paled, taking a shaky breath. 'I really need—'

He drew her back into his arms and held her close, the tip of her pretty nose brushing his. 'What do you need, Daph?'

The wild gleam in her blue eyes danced like the dying rays of the setting sun, a last burning gasp of light less than a finger's length from him. 'No, I—'

Harry slid his hand up her thigh beneath her skirt, tracing his fingertips over her soft, smooth skin until they brushed the warm lace of knickers. 'Tell me—' that little drop of sunlight glowed somewhere that felt an awful lot like the very centre of his heart '—I'd do more or less whatever the girl I love asks,' he promised.

'Can I…?' Daphne's thumb brushed the side of his neck. 'Just a taste.'

'How bad it can be?' He leant his head to one side, slipping his hand a little higher to cup the warm, silk-covered curves beneath her skirt.

Her teeth grazed his bare skin and a small shudder swept down his spine.

'Go on, Daph,' he whispered, giving her a little squeeze. 'It's only fair given where my hand is right now.'

A flash of pain tore into his throat and Daphne let out a small moan. The warm tip of her tongue pressed against the sharp twinge in his neck as she nuzzled into him, little shivers trembling through her from head to toe.

'Better?' Harry asked.

'Sorry,' she whispered, drawing back.

Red gleamed on her lips, stained them bright scarlet, and a little bead of crimson clung where they parted.

He bent and kissed her, ignoring the copper tang on his tongue and smiling as her breath caught. 'I said you could, don't be silly, Daph.'

Daphne snuggled into him, wiggling her bare legs through his and wrapping her arms around his chest. 'Sorry,' she murmured. 'I am sorry, Harry. Stay with me.'

'Silly.' Harry cradled her close with his left arm and touched his forefinger to the faint throbbing in his neck as Daphne's eyes slipped shut and her breathing steadied; his finger came back slick with crimson. 'It's not so bad at all, you know; the basilisk was much worse to get bitten by. Probably a good thing your bed is all red, though. But maybe you'd like it if something pale was marked with blood, you like red things and red looks good on pale things...'

He considered it for a moment, then pressed the scarlet-stained ball of his finger to her forehead just beside where that rogue lock of gold fluttered and, with a little laugh, drew a small, jagged zig-zag of scarlet there. 'Aileni yn marvoleth,' Harry whispered, his humour melting back into that small soft drop of sunlight as he admired her pretty face marked all red with his own blood. 'I love you too, Daph. You're amazing; I don't care if you're cursed.'

AN: Loads more chapters of this and many other things via the linktree!

linktr . ee / mjbradley