A Promise Given - Redux

A Promise Given

Chapter Twenty

…..

Harry Potter was, quite frankly, in a bit of a pickle. As he stood beside Daphne in the dim, bustling shop, watching her hand over the exchange slip Professor Babbling had given them as lesson supplies were covered by the school, he wondered how things had come to this.

Of course, he didn’t mean the small mountain of magical fabrics being tallied on the counter, though that had its own complications. He’d insisted on buying some of the more specialised, expensive materials for their project, even though Hogwarts already supplied the basics. He wasn’t worried about money; he had inherited more than enough. But, Merlin, some of this fabric was stupidly priced. A single square of Acromantula silk, for instance, was fifty Galleons—nearly five hundred British pounds. No fabric in the Muggle world would cost that much, but then again, how many Muggle fabrics required giant, man-eating spiders? Maybe Australia he mused.

No, his real “pickle” was that he seemed to have developed a rather substantial crush on Daphne Greengrass, a girl who was literally cursed to only be bound to one person for life—someone she didn’t even get to choose. Just for once, couldn’t he fancy someone simple? He could already imagine the laundry list of potential issues, and yet…

He sighed, casting a sideways glance at her as she negotiated with the shopkeeper, her voice clear and steady as she double-checked their list. And then there was the problem itself: Daphne. She had to be stunning, didn’t she? With those cool blue eyes that held the sharpness of ice and the warmth of summer lakes, and a smile that—if he were honest—made it hard to look away. Her hair was a warm blonde, pulled back in a loose twist today, revealing the elegant curve of her neck, which for some reason he found himself noticing more often than was probably respectable.

Then there was her figure. He wasn’t going to admit it outright, but he’d definitely noticed how graceful she was, like she’d been trained as a dancer. She moved with an easy, confident poise that somehow seemed even more impressive given her sharp intelligence and wit.

He gave himself a mental shake. Right. So you've got a Dark Lord who wants you dead, a history of fights with trolls, basilisks, dementors, dragons, and a pink toad who haunts your nightmares—and here you are, fancying a person who will never fancy you back even if she wanted too. Great work Potter.

As Harry lingered in his thoughts, Daphne’s voice broke through, laced with amusement.

“Ready to go, Potter? You’re the one who looks distracted now,” she smirked, the corner of her mouth lifting in that familiar, teasing way that always seemed to throw him off balance.

Harry snapped back to reality, clearing his throat as he took the bags from her hands. “Just… contemplating the outrageous price of spider silk,” he replied with a chuckle, adjusting the bags over his shoulder.

“Sure, the spider silk,” she replied, clearly not buying it but letting it go for now. She glanced around the busy street. “Shall we find somewhere to sit? If we’re spending the rest of the day shopping, a little food might not be a bad start.”

He nodded, his stomach growling at the thought. “Food sounds good. I’d say the Three Broomsticks, but it’s bound to be crowded. There’s that little café tucked away by the bookshop. It’s quieter. But are you sure thats a good idea?”

“Eating food? It's pretty important Potter” he just gave her a flat stare. “Ah so you can make jokes but I can’t?”

“Taking over the world wasn’t a joke Daphne” he replied casually before gesturing around them. “Getting school supplies for our project is fine but won't people talk if we are seen eating together?” 

“Potentially, but if they are going to talk they are going to talk” she replied.

“Yes but if we give them more reason too,” he began. 

“Are you saying you dont want to be seen with me more than you have to?” she countered with a raised eyebrow. 

“I didn’t say that” he began and then spoke quieter. “But you know who is coming for me and they wont think twice for going after people I care about. I dont want to put your family at risk” he added. He noted her expression change from mischief to a softer look.

“Harry, I promise you it’ll be fine, not one comment as been made in Slytherin about you and I working together and if you look around you no one is paying attention” she gestured to the students. “Plus if you want we can use a notice me not charm, I am quite adept at those” she smiled, a smile that made it hard to disagree.

“Alright then” he replied with a warm smile, he noted the almost relief in her eyes. Strange. “The cafe it is”.

“Excellent choice,” she agreed, and they began weaving through the bustling crowd toward the quieter side street.

A few minutes later, they settled into a cozy table near a window at the café. The interior was warm, with polished wood tables and soft lantern light that glowed against the slightly cloudy windows. Outside, students bustled by with bags and sweets, but in here, it was as though the noise of Hogsmeade had softened, offering a private little world to anyone lucky enough to find a seat.

They placed their orders—a few savory pastries and mugs of steaming butterbeer—and Daphne unfolded the shopping list on the table between them. Her eyes lit up as she traced her finger down the list, murmuring about the shops they still needed to visit.

“So, what’s next?” he asked, watching her with an amused grin.

“Well,” she replied, scanning the list, “you’ll be glad to know there’s not much left.”

Harry watched her speak, noticing how easily she seemed to fall into a natural rhythm with him, listing off their next steps as if they were part of some larger, unspoken plan. He leaned forward, taking a sip of his butterbeer that was placed before them just moments before. “Good, I was worried we’d end up with half of Hogsmead in our bags,” he laughed.

She smirked, taking a sip herself. “I can handle more shopping if you can. Or am I tiring you out already?”

“Is that a challenge, Greengrass? It’d take more than you to wear me out.”

Daphne raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I hear Witch Weekly had a whole article on your stamina this summer,” she teased, “apparently one witch isn’t enough.”

Harry nearly choked on his drink, grinning. “Wait—two things. You read Witch Weekly? And how did that rubbish even get published?”

“Oh, I dabble. Sometimes it has…merits.” She gave him an innocent look.

“Right. That wouldn’t happen because I was in it, would it?” He shot her a small grin, which she batted away, a faint blush creeping to her cheeks.

“Not at all, Potter. But the way I hear it, you’ve been keeping Veela covens, the occasional vampire, and even married witches busy,” she replied with raised eyebrow. “Such a homewrecker.”

“Merlin’s beard,” he muttered, chuckling despite himself. “Alright, maybe I should get Sirius on this.” He shook his head with a mock sigh, though the smile never left his face. He folded one leg over the other under the table and felt his shoe bump her calf, he jumped a little and his eyes widened, she noted she jolted as well at his touch. “Sorry!” he muttered. 

“Its fine!” she replied quickly placing both her hands on the side of her seat and shifting slightly. He had made sure his foot was well clear of her leg before reaching for his butterbeer again, but before his hand touched the mug handle he felt a warm sensation against his own calf, he looked down and saw that Daphne’s own slender, grey tights covered leg gentle came to rest against his, from a distance you likely couldn’t tell anything but this close it was hard to explain. He looked up and found her gazing out of the window into the street, sensing his eyes her own flicked to his and another blush dusted her cheeks. 

“Not a word Potter” she offered a small smile.

Harry cleared his throat, trying to push the warmth creeping up his neck away as he took a hasty sip of his butterbeer. The rich, familiar taste did little to steady him, and his thoughts buzzed with the memory of Daphne’s leg gently pressed against his own. She’d moved back by now, leaning casually in her seat, but he couldn’t help glancing her way, wondering if he’d imagined that subtle touch or the faint, pink blush that had brushed across her cheeks.

For a moment, Daphne stayed silent, as though lost in thought. Her fingers traced an idle pattern on the wooden tabletop, her gaze fixed somewhere distant beyond the frosty window. Inside, she was waging a quiet battle with herself—a duel between the pull of her magic and the unfamiliar flutter of her own heart. She wasn’t sure where one ended and the other began, and it unnerved her. Her blasted curse playing havoc with her as her magic reached for him, tugging insistently at her every time he came close.

Taking a steadying breath, she decided to test her control, and just innocently rest her leg against his own, that brief connection a moment ago caught her completely unawares. Whereas this time, as the warmth from his leg rested against her own she felt like she was floating as an intense warmth welled within her.

Harry glanced down, surprised, but didn’t pull away. “You alright?” he asked softly, his voice carrying a faint note of concern, though his eyes held that usual spark of mischief she found herself looking for.

“Perfectly fine, Potter.” Her voice was steady, but she could feel her pulse thudding, loud enough that she half-expected him to hear it. Her own calm façade felt more like a mask than a truth. She wasn’t fine—she was grappling with feelings, and her magic wasn’t helping; it was like a whisper in the back of her mind, urging her to stay close, to reach out, to…

She forced herself to look away, fighting the instinctive urge to move closer still. Her magic had been calming around him, but that calmness was laced with a strange yearning that she couldn’t ignore. It felt like a kind of peace, but with an edge of hunger, drawing her toward him without explanation.

Harry shifted in his seat, as if to dispel some of the tension that had settled between them. “Alright, but you keep looking at me like you’ve got a secret, Greengrass,” he teased, leaning back with a grin.

She tilted her head, smirking, though her heart was still racing. “Maybe I do.” She paused, almost surprised at her own words. Why did I say that? she thought. She hadn’t meant to give anything away—her thoughts, her uncertainty, the electric pull that hummed between them.

She hoped there was a part of her that felt something for him and that she wanted to know if he felt it too, the same warmth that currently spread across her. That part of her, cautious but curious, wanted to tease him, to pull him into her orbit and see if he would stay. Surely her wanting that meant it was more than the curse?

Another silence fell between them, thick with possibilities she didn’t want to voice..

After a beat, Daphne let out a small laugh, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts. “So what does Harry Potter like to do in his spare time?” she asked softly, her leg still resting against his.

He tilted his head, considering her question. “I don’t really get much spare time anymore,” he admitted, his voice thoughtful. “With essays, training, Quidditch captain duties… I’m lucky if I have a moment to breathe.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze softened. “But I think if I had to choose… just flying. Not for Quidditch or training—just me and a broom, up in the air.” He paused, almost as if he were seeing something far away. “It’s one of the few times I feel completely free, like I’m in control, you know?”

Something shifted in Daphne as she listened to him, her demeanor softening. This was a side of him she was growing to know—a quiet, honest side that her housemates had certainly never bothered to mention. They had painted him as an attention-seeking, talentless show-off, a boy who relished the limelight and thrived on drama. But from what she’d observed, especially since the summer ball, he was anything but. He had been polite, withdrawn even, with a sense of calm that seemed at odds with the loud reputation that followed him.

And as for being talentless? She knew firsthand that wasn’t true. Harry had, against all odds, mastered three years’ worth of Ancient Runes over a single summer, and she’d witnessed his precision and skill in defense classes. She found herself unexpectedly relieved that she would never have to cross wands with him—there was a depth to his power that her housemates were either too blind to see or too jealous to acknowledge.

Harry’s voice broke through her thoughts, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What about you? Apart from reading Witch Weekly, of course,” he added, smirking slightly as he teased her.

“Careful, Potter,” she shot back, trying to maintain her composure even as her heart fluttered. “Or I might send in an anonymous tip about something scandalous.” She leaned back slightly, a sly smile playing on her lips. “But if you must know, I like to paint sometimes… and I dabble in gardening, when I’m back home at the family estate. Nothing as adventurous as flying, though.”

He looked at her with genuine interest, his expression softening. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “If you’re passionate about it, then it’s worth something. I’d love to see some of your paintings, if you’d let me.”

“Really?” The surprise in her voice slipped out before she could stop it.

He nodded earnestly. “Yeah, why not?”

Daphne felt a strange mix of vulnerability and warmth blooming in her chest. She’d never imagined showing her paintings to anyone. It was something she kept private, something she could escape into without judgment. No one’s ever asked me to show them, she thought, feeling strangely exposed by his interest.

Her voice came out quieter than she intended. “No one’s ever asked to see them.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Do you ever tell anyone that you paint?”

She hesitated, realizing the truth. “… No.”

He chuckled softly. “Then how would they know to ask?”

A laugh escaped her, a sound that felt strangely freeing. It was such an obvious point, yet she’d never thought of it that way. She’d always been surrounded by people who assumed they knew her—a cold, aloof Slytherin, or just the ‘other Greengrass sister.’ No one had ever shown much interest in the parts of her she didn’t readily reveal. Yet here was Harry, earnestly asking to see a piece of her she usually kept hidden.

“Well, maybe I’ll consider it,” she said with a smirk, attempting to hide the way her pulse had quickened. There was something thrilling about the idea of sharing her secret world with him, but also something terrifying. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to open herself up like that.

“Alright,” he replied, his grin playful but his gaze serious, almost as if he could see the battle she was waging internally. “I’ll take what I can get.”

The air between them thickened, comfortable but charged, and Daphne felt her leg still resting against his, though her foot was moving gently, occasionally brushing his leg. The feeling was frankly, rather thrilling to her, a steady point of connection that neither of them seemed willing to break. 

“So…” Harry’s voice softened as he leaned in, his eyes holding hers with a quiet warmth. “I never thought I’d be sitting here with you, having a conversation like this with a Slytherin of all people”

Daphne’s smirk faltered slightly, her gaze dropping for a moment as her heart fluttered in her chest. “Careful, Potter,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “You’re dangerously close to paying me a compliment.”

“I paid you a fair few earlier remember” 

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile. “And I’ll get used to your flattery. If you're not careful”

“Is that so terrible?” he asked, his tone gentle, his eyes warm and steady. There was something about his expression that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t expected, as though he understood more than he was letting on.

For a moment, Daphne was at a loss. It would be so easy to lean into this, just tell him what she was feeling, curse or not!

Instead, she let herself relax, letting her leg stay against his her foot moving, allowing the moment to settle around them like a comfortable silence. She noticed he didn’t react to much, other than occasionally shifting in his seat, she imagined it was due to the oak wood that wasn’t the most comfortable to sit on.

She glanced up, meeting his gaze with a newfound steadiness. “Perhaps not… but don’t think I’m so easily won over, Potter, many have tried.”

Harry grinned, his eyes never leaving hers. “So you do like it!” he said with triumph. 

“Harry, I—” Daphne began, her voice tinged with a vulnerability she hadn’t quite expected.

But before she could finish, the door of the pub swung open, and a small group of loud, chattering Hogwarts students spilled inside. Daphne’s heart skipped a beat as she recognized a few familiar faces—a handful of Ravenclaws and a Slytherin she vaguely knew from one of her classes. Instinctively, she jerked her leg back from Harry’s under the table, desperate to put some distance between them, her heel however caught on the cross bar of the chair and in a panic to move her leg shes yanked her foot free.

But she moved too quickly, and her knee slammed back forward straight inbetween Harry’s legs.

Harry’s eyes went wide, and his mouth opened in a silent gasp of pain as he folded forward, his forehead coming to rest on the table. A strangled sound escaped him, somewhere between a cough and a groan.

“Oh sweet lord” she heard him weeze.

“Oh, Merlin—Harry, I’m so sorry!” Daphne whispered frantically, her hands hovering near his shoulders, unsure whether to pat him or just back away. Her face was a mix of horror and mortification as she tried to think of how to help him, her mind racing.

At the sound of her voice, a couple of the students turned to look their way, but from this angle, all they could see was a flustered Daphne leaning over a boy who seemed to be in some sort of distress.

“Everything alright, Greengrass?” one of them asked, squinting curiously.

“Yes! Everything’s fine!” she replied hastily, offering a forced smile as she waved them off, hoping they’d lose interest quickly. “Just, uh… he’s not feeling well. Too much… butterbeer, I think.”

The students exchanged glances, clearly amused by her vague answer but thankfully uninterested enough to pry any further. “Alright, whatever you say,” one of the Ravenclaws replied with a smirk before they turned back to the bar, already absorbed in their own conversation.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Daphne turned back to Harry, her face twisted with worry. He had finally managed to sit up, his face pale but his mouth twitching in an attempt at a reassuring smile.

“Harry, I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

He held up a hand to stop her, though his face was still tinged with a faint greenish hue. “It’s… it’s fine,” he managed, his voice slightly strained. “Not… exactly how I pictured spending the afternoon, but… I wasn’t planning on having kids anytime soon, anyway,” he joked, forcing a wry grin.

Daphne’s eyes widened in horror before she noticed the humor lurking in his gaze. A relieved laugh bubbled up, a mix of embarrassment and surprise that he could joke about it at all, considering. “Harry Potter,” she said, trying to stifle her smile, “you’re unbelievable.”

He winced, rubbing his forehead as he carefully straightened in his seat. “Maybe… maybe next time we just keep our feet to ourselves?” he suggested, his voice light, though there was a peculiar tension in his posture, as though he were trying a bit too hard to appear casual.

Daphne pressed her lips together, barely holding back a smile. “Probably a good idea. I wasn’t exactly trying to do permanent damage,” she replied, her tone playful but still apologetic. “But I didn’t think you’d want half of Hogsmeade seeing you doubled over, clutching your… well, you know,” she added, with a teasing grin.

Harry let out a small chuckle, though he winced halfway through. “Trust me, Daphne… the last thing I’m worried about right now is appearances.”

She laughed again, this time more genuinely, feeling her own embarrassment fade as she watched him recover. “It’s a good thing you have a sense of humor, Potter,” she said, crossing her arms with a small smile. “Otherwise, I’d feel even worse.”

Harry’s expression softened, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, don’t worry, Greengrass. I fully plan on using this incident against you for… oh, at least the next few months.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I’d like to see you try. And maybe don’t make threats while you’re still… incapacitated.” She gave him a sly smile, noting that he still hadn’t made any attempt to stand up. His shoulders were tense, and he was gripping the edge of the table a bit too firmly, his gaze flicking around the room as though making sure no one was watching too closely.

“Oh, I’ll recover,” he muttered, though he made no move to rise. “But by Merlin’s beard, did it have to be your knee? I think they are bruised,” He chuckled again, though his voice wavered slightly, a pink flush creeping up his neck. “At least buy me dinner first next time.”

She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. “Come on, let’s get you back to the castle before you hurt yourself trying to be brave,” she said, moving as if to stand and help him.

But Harry’s hand shot out, waving her off. “No, no, I’m… good. I think I just need a minute,” he said, his voice a bit too quick, a bit too forced.

Daphne’s eyebrows lifted, her curiosity piqued as she sank back into her seat. He was acting almost… jumpy, as if he was trying to cover something up, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. He still wouldn’t meet her eyes directly, instead keeping his gaze fixed on some imaginary point over her shoulder.

“Harry, it’s okay to accept help, you know,” she said gently, her expression softening as she leaned forward, studying him with a mix of amusement and concern. But he only laughed awkwardly, his shoulders tightening as he shot her a tight-lipped smile.

“No, really—I’ll be fine. Just… give me a moment,” he replied, his voice almost sheepish.

Daphne watched him for a beat, her own brow furrowing as her curiosity grew. Why was he so determined to stay seated? Her eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head, sensing there was something he wasn’t telling her. But for some reason, she decided not to press him on it. Instead, she allowed a small, knowing smile to flicker across her face.

“Suit yourself, Potter,” she murmured, a glint of amusement in her eyes. She settled back in her seat, resting her chin on her hand as she watched him. Whatever was bothering him, she realized with a faint thrill, had something to do with her. And despite the mishap, she couldn’t quite bring herself to feel bad about it. Minus the injury.

Harry and Daphne walked side by side down the winding path back to Hogwarts, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows along the ground. Daphne kept her gaze forward, her mind a tangled mess of nerves and questions, fighting an internal battle she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to win. Should she tell him? Should she let him know that her curse—the one she’d spent years dreading, resenting, hiding—had chosen him? She felt her heart pound with each step, the weight of the truth settling heavily on her shoulders.

As they reached a quiet stretch of the path, their hands brushed lightly, sending a small shock up her arm. She glanced up to find Harry looking at her, and for just a moment, there was something so warm and open in his expression. He was smiling—softly, sincerely, as if they weren’t tangled in complications, as if there was something simple and good between them. The sight of it sent a strange warmth spreading through her chest, but it also made her decision that much harder.

Unable to keep it to herself any longer, she gently tugged on his arm, guiding him off the path and into the shelter of a nearby tree. The dappled sunlight fell around them, casting shifting patterns on the ground as she took a steadying breath.

“Harry…” She forced herself to look him in the eyes, even as a thousand thoughts clamored in her mind. Gathering every bit of courage she had, she finally managed to ask, “Are you, rather have you been … flirting with me? On purpose, I mean?”

For a split second, his expression shifted—uncertainty flickering in his eyes, a hint of something she couldn’t quite read. He opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated, as if he were weighing his words carefully.

“I… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Daphne. I just… I shouldn’t have done that,” he began, his voice filled with quiet regret. “Especially with what you told me about your curse”

She shook her head, feeling her pulse quicken. This was the moment, the one she’d been dreading and preparing for all at once. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to speak, her words barely above a whisper. “That curse… it’s… Merlin … its chosen you. Well at least everything I’ve experienced so far says it has”

He blinked, taken aback. For a heartbeat, he was silent, clearly processing what she’d just said. “Me?” he echoed, his voice soft, almost disbelieving.

She nodded, feeling an odd mix of relief and vulnerability wash over her. “Yes. I didn’t choose it. I didn’t ask for it. But… Not that I’m saying thats a bad thing!” she stammered, she was butchering this!

A silence fell between them, thick and charged, as if the air itself were holding its breath. When she dared to look up, she saw something unexpected in his expression—empathy, mixed with a sadness that cut deeper than any sympathy she’d ever seen.

“Daphne…” His voice was barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine… I never thought…” He looked down, swallowing, clearly struggling to find the right words. “That’s not fair. You shouldn’t be… trapped like that. Especially to me”

The ache in his voice surprised her, wrapping around her like a balm to her own hurt. She’d expected surprise, maybe curiosity, or even pity. But the regret she saw in his eyes wasn’t for himself—it was for her. As if he’d taken on her pain and felt it himself.

“I’m sorry you got tangled up in this,” she murmured, feeling a strange mix of relief and shame.

“You're sorry? Daphne You’ve done nothing wrong” he said stepping closer to her and taking her hands in his softly. “You hear me, this isn’t your fault”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have told you but its just been … So nice today … I felt like a normal teenage girl for once after spending years dreading this, and-” she felt a lump form in her throat and her eyes water. 

“Daphne I didn’t know, and you were right to tell me” he said soothingly. 

“I'm sorry it wasn’t fair for me to say anything” she choked out. “I don’t even know what I am expecting you to say or do, this is my burden not yours. You do not need to feel obligated to do anything,” she added, freeing one of her hands to wipe her eyes furiously.

“Daphne, look at me” Harry said softly, causing her to look up. “I was flirting today alright, I’ll be honest I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the ball. So you don't have to worry about me running for the hills and shunning you” he said softly, causing her a fresh wave of tears to spill, mostly out of sheer relief that at least for now she would've face the darkest part of the curse. 

“You don’t have too do this for me Harry-” she was interrupted by Harry slowly pulling her into an embrace. Where she let loose the last remaining tears into his shoulder. 

……

That last scene was very hard and even reviewing it it was a struggle to write because frankly how do you tell someone that? 

I hope it came across well.