A Promise Given - Redux

A Promise Given

Please enjoy. Although interest in this story appears to be dying off, I will give it a few more chapters and if interest drops I'll put it over for someone else to finish.

…

Chapter Nine

Daphne's quill moved smoothly across the parchment as she worked through the intricate runes, the familiar rhythm of study helping to keep her mind focused. Normally, she found solace in the precision of her work—the clarity that runes provided, each symbol a puzzle with a single, clear solution. But today, her mind kept wandering.

Her eyes flicked over to Harry, who sat across from her, frowning at his own parchment. His brow was furrowed in concentration, a lock of unruly hair falling into his eyes as he tried, once again, to decode a particularly stubborn set of runes. She allowed herself a small smile. He'd come a long way since they'd started these sessions, and though he'd never admit it, his determination impressed her. There was something about the way he kept pushing, even when he was clearly out of his depth, that made her respect him.

Still, she couldn't help but tease him. It had become a bit of a game between them, these moments of playful banter that punctuated their study sessions.

"You look like that rune might be hexing you, Potter," she said, smirking as he let out an exaggerated sigh of frustration. "I thought you were supposed to be good at this by now."

Harry glanced up, meeting her gaze with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression. "And here I thought you were supposed to be teaching me, not laughing at my misery."

"Who says I can't do both?" she replied smoothly, her smirk widening. It was easier to keep the conversation light, to focus on the teasing. It distracted her from the odd feeling that had been creeping up on her lately—this awareness of Harry that was more than just academic interest.

Harry let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "You enjoy this way too much."

Daphne shrugged, her quill tapping lightly against her parchment as she leaned back in her chair. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just impressed that you've lasted this long without giving up."

He looked at her then, and for a moment, something in his expression shifted. "I'm not giving up," he said, a hint of sincerity cutting through the banter. "I just wonder how I got stuck with a teacher who enjoys watching me suffer."

There it was again—something about the way he looked at her, the way he spoke, that made her feel like he saw through the walls she'd carefully built around herself. It was unsettling, but not entirely unwelcome. She hesitated, unsure of how to respond, before defaulting to the usual playfulness.

"Well, you did volunteer for this," she said lightly, but her smile softened slightly. "And for the record, you're doing better than most would. Runes aren't exactly easy, you know."

He blinked, clearly surprised by the compliment, and Daphne had to stop herself from smirking again. It wasn't often she gave praise, but Harry—well, he'd earned it. More than that, though, she found herself wanting to say it. She liked that he worked hard, that he didn't expect things to come easy just because of who he was.

"Thanks," Harry said, his voice quieter now. "Coming from you, that actually means a lot."

Daphne felt an unfamiliar warmth bloom in her chest at his words. She quickly looked back down at her parchment, hoping he didn't notice the slight flush creeping up her neck. "Don't let it go to your head, Potter."

They worked in silence for a few more moments, but Daphne couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. It wasn't the first time they'd had these moments of shared understanding, these unspoken acknowledgments of something deeper than their casual conversations. Over the past few weeks, she had come to respect Harry, not just for his determination, but for the way he saw the world—how he always seemed to think about others before himself, even when he had every reason to be selfish.

And then there was the way he looked at her sometimes—like he was genuinely interested in what she had to say, not just about runes, but everything. That was rare. Most people saw her as a Greengrass, part of an old pureblood family with connections and influence. They didn't bother to look past that. But Harry… Harry saw her.

A faint pulse of magic tugged at the edges of her awareness, and Daphne frowned slightly. She could feel it, a soft hum in the air between them. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there—like her magic was reacting to him, reaching out in a way she hadn't expected. She quickly tamped it down, hoping Harry hadn't noticed.

He hadn't. Instead, he was still working through the runes, his focus unwavering. But she could feel it—the odd pull of magic, the connection that seemed to be forming between them. She didn't know what to make of it, didn't want to acknowledge it fully. Not yet.

Harry broke the silence, his voice light but curious. "You know, I never thought I'd spend my summer getting schooled by the infamous Daphne Greengrass."

Daphne rolled her eyes, glad for the distraction. "Oh? And what exactly did you expect?"

"I don't know," he said, leaning back in his chair with a grin. "Maybe a little less humiliation?"

She raised an eyebrow, smirking again. "Humiliation builds character, Potter. Besides, you're not hopeless."

His grin widened. "Good to know. I'd hate to think I was completely hopeless in your eyes."

Daphne chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

"And you're relentless," he shot back, his smile softer now, more genuine. "But honestly… I appreciate it. You're a great teacher."

Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she didn't know how to respond. The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at her—there was no hint of flattery, no ulterior motive. Just honesty. She hadn't expected that. It wasn't often that people saw her as anything other than what they expected her to be.

"Thanks," she said quietly, her voice almost too soft. "You're not so bad yourself."

Their eyes met, and for a brief second, the pulse of magic returned—stronger this time, but still subtle. Daphne felt the connection between them, felt her magic pulling towards him in a way that made her uneasy. It was too soon, too uncertain. She quickly looked away, focusing on the runes again.

From Daphne's perspective, the conversation felt both familiar and unexpectedly vulnerable. She was used to controlling her emotions, shielding her thoughts, and staying carefully guarded, but Harry had a way of making her feel... different. Like maybe, just maybe, it was alright to let someone in.

The day before the ball, they sat in one of the quieter corners of the Greengrass estate library, surrounded by old tomes and scattered parchment. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a golden glow over the room as they worked through rune patterns. Daphne's quill moved effortlessly across her page, her mind engaged in the delicate puzzle of ancient symbols, but a part of her kept drifting to the boy sitting across from her.

Harry leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms and letting out a quiet sigh, she made a mental point NOT to look at the way his arms and chest looked quite nice in that position. She noticed how his gaze lingered on her for a second longer than usual, as if something was on his mind. She kept her focus on her work, but she could feel his curiosity buzzing in the air between them. He was never very good at hiding it.

"So…" Harry's voice broke through the quiet, casual but a little too hesitant. "Are you going with anyone tomorrow?"

Daphne blinked, surprised by the sudden change in conversation. She met his eyes and raised an eyebrow, though she felt a slight flutter in her chest. Of all the things to bring up now…

"The ball?" she asked, playing for time as she thought about how to respond. She could sense his curiosity—it was written all over his face—but there was something else there too. Something more uncertain. "No, I'm going with my family. Alone."

She didn't know why, but admitting it felt like more of a confession than it should have. She glanced back at her parchment, trying to keep her tone light, but her mind was already racing.

Harry, of course, couldn't resist teasing her. "Is that by choice, or did you struggle to find a date?" His smirk was playful, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

Daphne let out a laugh, genuinely amused by his question. He really was hopeless sometimes. "Oh, please," she said, shaking her head with a smile. "Believe it or not, I had no shortage of offers."

He grinned at her response, and for a brief moment, the air between them felt lighter, easier. "Yeah, I'm sure. So why didn't you pick anyone? Didn't see the point in bringing someone?"

Daphne's laughter faded, replaced by a quiet reflection. She hadn't expected him to dig deeper, hadn't thought he'd actually care to know why. Most people wouldn't. But this was Harry, and as much as she tried to keep things simple between them, he always seemed to find a way to make things more complicated. She hesitated, her eyes drifting away from his as she weighed her options. She could brush it off with another joke, deflect the question like she usually did. But something stopped her.

Over the past few weeks, something had shifted between them. She wasn't sure when exactly it had happened, but she had begun to see Harry in a different light. He wasn't just the Boy Who Lived or some hero with a prophecy hanging over his head. He was thoughtful, determined, and oddly kind in a way that caught her off guard. He genuinely cared, and that made it harder to keep her walls up.

She felt his gaze on her, waiting patiently, and a small sigh escaped her. "It's not that I didn't want to bring anyone," she said softly, setting her quill down and folding her hands in her lap. "It's just... complicated."

Daphne could sense the shift in the room. She wasn't used to sharing this part of herself, but something about Harry made her feel like maybe it was okay. He wasn't prying—at least not in the way others did. He was just... curious.

Harry's brow furrowed, concern flickering across his face. "It's fine if you don't want to talk about it," he said gently, as if giving her an out.

But she shook her head, deciding to let him in just a little more. "No, it's not that," she replied, her voice quieter now. "It's just... there's something about my family, on my mother's side. It's not something we talk about much, but there's a... curse." The word felt heavy on her tongue. She glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but he just looked curious, waiting for her to continue.

She took a deep breath, unsure how much to reveal. "It's not a dark curse or anything like that," she explained. "It's more... subtle. It affects the women in my family, especially when it comes to relationships. Romantic ones, I mean."

Harry blinked, clearly surprised by her openness. She could see him trying to process what she had just told him, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern. "A curse? What kind of curse?"

Daphne felt her heart race. She had never told anyone outside of her family about this—not even her closest friends. But somehow, talking to Harry felt different. He wasn't judging her, wasn't looking at her like she was damaged or cursed. He was just listening.

She sighed, her fingers tracing the edge of her parchment. "It's hard to explain. The women in our family... it's like our magic complicates things. Relationships, I mean. It makes things... difficult. And if I brought someone to the ball, it would only lead them on. It wouldn't be fair."

Harry's frown deepened, his eyes softening as he tried to understand. "So, you can't...?"

Daphne shook her head, cutting him off gently. "I can," she said quietly. "But it's complicated. Basically, my magic chooses for me—whether I like it or not. It mimics the feeling of love, as no magic can truly force you to love someone, especially when love comes in many forms and can be defined in so many ways. When our magic selects someone, it feels like we need that person in our life. If that call is returned, we can have a happy life with them... so long as they love us back. But in most cases, the person our magic chooses doesn't care for the witch at all. And when they reject you, you're left with a life full of... emptiness."

She paused, her gaze drifting toward the window for a moment before continuing, her voice softer now. "I could, in theory, be with someone else, but it would be hollow. I'd feel nothing for them. It would be like eating chocolate but not being able to taste it—just putting something you shouldn't into your body."

Harry stared at her, stunned into silence. He felt a deep unease settling over him as he tried to wrap his head around what she'd just revealed. A curse like that—it was horrifying. The idea that you could be robbed of your own free will to love, that your life could be dictated by a force you had no control over... it was unthinkable. His heart clenched at the thought of how unfair it was, how cruel.

"That's—" he started, but his voice faltered, unable to find the right words. He shook his head, his horror evident. "That's terrible. I can't imagine what that must be like... to not have a choice. To be... trapped."

Daphne's eyes flicked to his, surprised by the raw emotion behind his words. She wasn't used to people caring so much, especially not about something like this. Most people just accepted curses as part of the wizarding world, something to be dealt with. But Harry, it seemed, couldn't just accept it. She saw the outrage, the sorrow in his expression, and it made her feel oddly exposed.

"Harry I think you have some idea" she said softly "You did not chose for the Dark Lord to mark you his equal, and from what i've read its you or him, whether you like it or not".

Harry looked at her, his green eyes searching her face as if trying to decipher a hidden truth. "I guess we're both stuck in our own ways, then," he said softly, a bittersweet smile forming on his lips.

Daphne felt the familiar tug of magic at her core, a whisper of recognition that sent a shiver down her spine. The way Harry was looking at her, with a mixture of understanding and compassion, was different—deeper. It was as if her magic was responding to him, choosing him in that moment, a notion that both excited and terrified her.

"I suppose we are," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. The warmth between them seemed to expand, filling the space around them, and she wondered if he could feel it too.

As they held each other's gaze, the world outside the library faded away, leaving just the two of them in that suspended moment. It was a fragile connection, one she was not yet ready to acknowledge fully, but it lingered in the air like the remnants of a spell cast too long ago to reverse.

"Harry," she began, hesitating, the weight of her emotions threatening to spill over. "I—"

The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, pulling her back to reality. She blinked, breaking the spell that had woven itself around them. "We should probably get back to studying," she said, a hint of reluctance in her tone.

"Right," he agreed, though his gaze lingered on her a moment longer.

…

The living room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place was filled with the soft strains of music, the kind that made you want to twirl and sway. Tonks had conjured up a small wireless radio, and Sirius was animatedly explaining the dance styles they planned to showcase at the upcoming ball.

"Alright, Harry, check this out," Sirius said, a grin spreading across his face. He stood up, stretching his limbs and then clasping his hands together as if preparing for a grand performance. "First, we've got the classic waltz. It's all about elegance and grace." He moved to the center of the room, taking an exaggeratedly refined pose.

Tonks rolled her eyes but couldn't help grinning. "Oh please, as if you're the epitome of grace," she teased, stepping forward. "But let's show him how it's done."

As the music shifted to a waltz, Sirius took Tonks's hand, and they demonstrated the steps. With a flourish, they glided across the floor, executing the turns and spins with surprising coordination. Harry watched, captivated by the effortless way they moved together, their laughter mixing with the music.

"Not bad, eh?" Sirius said, stepping back to catch his breath after their twirl. He turned to Harry, still beaming. "Just remember, Harry: a little confidence goes a long way. You've got this!"

"Right, confidence," Harry replied, fidgeting slightly. "I just don't want to mess up in front of everyone."

Sirius studied him for a moment, his expression shifting to one of understanding. "It's normal to be nervous, Harry. You'll be fine. Just think of it like facing a Death Eater. No big deal, right?"

"Yeah, because dancing is just like dueling," Harry replied with a half-hearted chuckle.

"Exactly! Just keep your wand tucked away and use your feet instead," Sirius said, winking.

Tonks laughed, then stepped closer to Harry. "Alright, let's get to practicing. We'll focus on the basics first, and I promise to keep things light. No pressure, just fun."

"Fun," Harry echoed, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.

"Yes, fun! It's like flying but with your feet on the ground. Ready to give it a shot?" Tonks asked, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"Sure," he said, trying to shake off his nerves. "What's first?"

"Let's start with a simple box step. I'll show you," she said, demonstrating the footwork slowly. "Step forward, side, back, side. Easy, right?"

Harry nodded, watching intently as she moved. "Okay, I think I can do that."

"Great! Now you try," Tonks said, stepping back to give him room. "I'll mirror you. Just remember to breathe."

As Harry attempted the box step, he felt the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Like this?" he asked, trying to match her movements.

"Almost! Just keep your posture up, and lead with your chest," she instructed, gently nudging his shoulder to correct his stance. "It's all about confidence, remember?"

"Right, confidence," he repeated, focusing on the rhythm.

"Perfect!" Tonks said, her smile encouraging. "And if you feel awkward, just imagine I'm making a fool of myself. That always helps!"

Harry chuckled at the image. "Yeah, that would definitely help."

"Alright, let's try adding some spins," she suggested, leading him through the next step. "Just keep your hand steady and follow my lead."

As they practiced, Harry found himself loosening up, the music guiding him as he followed her lead. Tonks's occasional jokes and lighthearted comments helped ease the pressure.

"Don't worry if you trip; I'll catch you!" she teased, her grin playful. "Just don't make it a habit, or I might start charging you for lessons!"

"Right, and then I'd be broke," Harry laughed, finally starting to enjoy himself.

Sirius watched them, a proud smile on his face. "Look at that, Harry! You're a natural! Who knew you had this talent hidden away?"

"Don't get too excited; I'm still learning," Harry replied, shaking his head.

"Exactly, learning! And you're doing it with a beautiful partner, so there's no pressure," Sirius chimed in, leaning against the wall. "Just think of the ball as a giant dance floor and you're the star. Just don't forget to shine."

After a few more rounds of practicing, Tonks paused, looking at Harry with a sincere expression. "You really are doing great, Harry. Just remember to have fun. Everyone will be cheering for you, no matter what."

"Thanks, Tonks. That means a lot," he said, feeling a newfound sense of determination.

"Now, let's practice some of those spins again, shall we?" she suggested, her voice bright with excitement.

"Let's do it!" Harry replied, feeling more confident as they resumed their dance.

As Harry and Tonks continued to practice their dance moves, the soft strains of the music filled the air, creating a warm atmosphere in the living room. Unbeknownst to them, Ron and Hermione had found a cozy spot behind the doorway, peeking in with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

"Blimey, look at him," Ron whispered, barely able to contain a laugh as he watched Harry attempt to execute a spin, only to stumble slightly. "Practicing to dance? He must be mad!"

Hermione shot him a disapproving glance. "Oh, come on, Ron. He's not mad. There's a lot of pressure on him, and he's just trying to better himself. It's good that he's taking this seriously."

"Yeah, but dance practice? I mean, who even does that?" Ron replied, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "You'd think he'd want to go out and fight something instead of learning how to twirl."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And you think he'd rather be fighting right now? Just because Harry's the Chosen One doesn't mean he doesn't deserve a bit of normalcy, even if it's just learning how to dance."

"Alright, alright, I get it," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "I was only joking. But it's hard to keep up with him. Look at how much he's changed in the last few weeks."

"Isn't it great?" Hermione replied, her expression softening as she watched Harry. "He's starting to come into his own. He seems more confident, more willing to embrace who he is. I think this ball is really going to be a turning point for him."

"Yeah, it is," Ron admitted, glancing back at the scene unfolding before them. "I mean, he's actually smiling while he's dancing. I can't remember the last time I saw him this... happy."

"Exactly!" Hermione said, a small smile breaking across her face. "He's finally learning to enjoy life a little, despite everything that's going on. It's nice to see."

As they watched, Tonks laughed and playfully swatted at Harry's arm after he fumbled again. Harry's laughter rang out, and for a moment, the worries of the world seemed to fade away.

Ron chuckled, shaking his head. "I never thought I'd see the day when Harry Potter would be dancing in the living room. Next thing you know, he'll be wearing a tutu and singing show tunes."

"Don't give him any ideas!" Hermione replied, stifling a laugh. "But seriously, I think it's good for him. It's a chance to be just a normal guy for once. He deserves that."

Ron nodded, still watching with a mix of admiration and disbelief. "Yeah, he really does. I just hope he doesn't trip and fall on his face at the ball. I'd never hear the end of it."

Hermione elbowed him lightly. "Let's hope not. But knowing Harry, he'll manage to pull it off anyway we should go and study some more for September"

"Urgh really!"

…

After his meeting with Remus in the kitchen, Dumbledore made his way through the dimly lit hallways of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. He had just discussed additional resources for Harry—books he believed might aid him in his studies and preparation for the challenges ahead.

As he passed by the door to the living room, the soft strains of music caught his ear, accompanied by the sound of laughter. Curious, he paused, peeking through the slightly ajar door.

What he saw brought a smile to his face. Harry was attempting to lead Tonks through a series of graceful steps, though the execution was far from perfect. Tonks, ever the spirited teacher, laughed lightly as she gently corrected him, her playful demeanor infectious.

Dumbledore's gaze softened as he watched Harry stumble but quickly regain his footing, a look of concentration on his face. There was a lightness in the air, a warmth that felt almost foreign in the shadowy confines of Grimmauld Place.

How wonderful it is, he thought, to see him enjoying something so simple, so human. The burden of being the Chosen One often weighed heavily on Harry's young shoulders, and moments like these were rare treasures.

He couldn't help but notice how much Harry had changed over the past few weeks. The boy who had once worn uncertainty like a cloak now appeared more self-assured, at least in this moment. Tonks was a positive influence, helping him break free from the confines of his destiny, if only temporarily.

Dumbledore's smile widened when he saw Tonks lean in closer, teasing Harry about his footwork. The laughter that echoed from the room was a balm for his heart, a reminder that joy could still be found amidst darkness.

Just then, Remus approached, glancing at Dumbledore with a knowing smile. "It seems our dear Harry is learning how to dance," he remarked softly, following Dumbledore's gaze.

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "He's discovering that life can be as much about rhythm as it is about battles. It is essential for him to grasp that there is more to his existence than the path laid out before him."

Remus nodded, appreciating the moment. "He's grown so much lately. I think this is good for him, giving him a taste of normalcy."

"Quite right," Dumbledore agreed. "We often forget the importance of these small experiences. They build resilience and character. It is crucial that he learns to embrace life's simpler pleasures."

As they watched, Harry stumbled again, this time catching Tonks off guard, sending them both tumbling to the floor in a heap of laughter. Dumbledore chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Even in his missteps, there is joy."

"I hope he can hold onto this feeling," Remus mused, a touch of concern in his voice. "The world can be cruel, and he has a heavy burden to bear."

Dumbledore's expression turned contemplative. "We must ensure he knows he is not alone. Friendship, laughter, and even dance can provide strength in the face of darkness."

He looked at Sirius who was watching his Godson and cousin dance. The man had undergone a remarkable transformation since Harry had come to live with him. Dumbledore had seen the shift in his demeanor, from the carefree, reckless man he once knew to a more responsible figure, grappling with the weight of guardianship.

Sirius is learning, Dumbledore thought, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. He is discovering the depths of love and duty. It was heartening to witness Sirius embrace the role of protector, to see him actively choosing to shape Harry's life for the better. The path to becoming a father figure was not easy, but Sirius was navigating it with increasing maturity.

"Sometimes, it takes a child to show us how to grow," Dumbledore said softly, almost to himself.

"What's that?" Remus asked, his attention drawn to Dumbledore's reflective tone.

"I was just thinking about Sirius," Dumbledore replied, his gaze still fixed on the dancing pair. "He's evolving in ways I hadn't anticipated. This bond with Harry is transforming him, deepening his understanding of responsibility"

Remus smiled knowingly. "He's always been fiercely protective of those he cares about. But yes, Harry is bringing out a side of him that was long buried. It's heartening to see."

Dumbledore nodded, his smile broadening as he took in the scene before him. "Shall we let them be for now? They seem to be finding their rhythm."

…