A Scrapped Take on Reconciliation
And her gaze, almost in spite of herself, fell to Harry. He was staring at the floor, his face angled in just the right way to hide his expression completely; she had no idea what he was thinking, no idea what he was going to say. He might just tell her to go away and stay away; he might tell Hermione and Neville that this was all or nothing, and they would have to choose between him and her. Delphi wouldn't let them choose her, she didn't think; Harry deserved them more than she did, surely, and she'd just have to tell them that they needed to choose him and she didn't hold any grudges over it—
Harry looked up. The storm of emotions on his face, so sharply contrasted with the utter blankness that had been there before, frightened her. She half-expected him to start yelling at her again. To tell her just what he thought of the idea that she could be both the Dark Lord's daughter and Harry Potter's friend. It wasn't possible; she knew that. It simply wasn't possible. It—
"Did Dumbledore tell you why I can speak Parseltongue?" Harry asked, and the sudden hissing made everyone in the room but Delphi jump. Hagrid, who had never heard Harry speak the serpent-tongue before, had gone very pale; perhaps he hadn't believed the rumors, or perhaps it was just that knowing it was very different from actually hearing it.
"No," Delphi said, hissing back at him. She knew what Harry was doing; there was only one reason for him to have slipped into this language the rest of them couldn't understand. This was for the two of them alone. "No, but—Harry, you're not like me. I asked. I promise. I asked Dumbledore if you... if you're related to him, too. You're not. You're not—you and I aren't related."
Harry's shoulders sagged. "Then why can I speak it?" he asked. The others exchanged nervous glances, the desperate wish for the conversation to return to English written all over everyone's face. "I thought... I don't know what I thought. But I didn't think you'd gotten it from him. And if you did, then maybe—"
"Dumbledore wouldn't have lied," Delphi insisted. "I get it from him, but you don't. Maybe... I don't know, maybe it's why he went after you as a baby. Maybe you're special, and he knew it. Maybe you didn't inherit it from anyone; maybe it's just some kind of wild, spontaneous magic you were born with. I don't know. But Harry, you're not like me. You're not his; even Dumbledore wouldn't have lied about that. I swear it. And—and Harry, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I knew you hate me for it, I knew... I just couldn't bear the thought of—"
"I don't hate you." The words, suddenly English again, made Delphi pause. She'd misheard him, obviously. She'd heard a 'don't' where there wasn't one, and she was just hearing what she wanted to hear. Of course—
"'Course yeh don', Harry," Hagrid encouraged. "'Course not. Yer just like yer parents in that. Kind-hearted. They would 'a been the first ter tell yeh, if they could—Delphi's a good girl. A good friend. No sense in turnin' her away 'cause 'a who her dad happens to be."
"I reckon Hagrid's got a point, you know," said Ron. "Refusing to be friends with someone because of their parents is a pretty Malfoy thing to do. We're better than that. Besides—" He looked over at Delphi appraisingly. "I think this could really work in our favor. If there's two Heirs of Slytherin running around, we probably want at least one of them on our team, if we can manage it."
But Harry was still staring right at Delphi. "He offered to let me join him, you know," he said, slipping back into Parseltongue. "Last year when I got the Stone. I don't think he really meant it, but... I can speak Parseltongue, too. And the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin." Delphi couldn't help her gasp, though it made the others jump. "I've been thinking this year, you know... worrying more and more that... I mean, everyone already thinks I'm the Heir because I can talk to snakes, and no one knows why Voldemort tried to kill me, and I would have been a Slytherin if I hadn't told the hat not to put me there... and Riddle's diary completely fooled me."
"Harry—"
"But all this time," he went on, "it was you. What I've been worrying about... it happened to you instead."
Delphi stared at him, horrified. How could he have been worried about a thing like that? He was Harry Potter. He was the Boy Who Lived, the boy who defeated the Dark Lord twice, Dumbledore's favorite Gryffindor.
"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked. "We would've told you, Harry. We would've told you it's impossible. Of course you've got nothing to do with the Heir of Slytherin or the Dark Lord. You're nothing like them."
"Before the diary," he said, "I would've said the same thing about you."
Delphi didn't know what to say. For a minute, Harry didn't seem to know, either. Then—
"Do you still want to be our friend?" he asked. "After what happened, I thought... I thought you didn't. You went back to the Slytherin table and you never tried to talk to us about it, so... I figured that was it. You didn't like us anymore. Didn't like me anymore, I guess, after what I said."
"No!" Delphi exclaimed. "No, it's that's—it's that you were right. You're right about all of it. I'm not good enough to be your friend; it's stupid and selfish for me to think anything else, and—"
"No," Harry said. His jaw was set very stubbornly now, his voice firm. "It's not stupid. Hermione and Hagrid... I think they're right. I think... I think I still want to be your friend. You know, if you want to be mine."
Delphi could not believe her ears. "You what?"
Harry looked away from her. "I get it, if you don't want to," he said, a bit awkward as he stared at his shoes. "I'll understand. I just... I still like you. Even if you're, er... Well, I think maybe that's even more impressive than you were before." Was he blushing? And did he just say she was impressive? "If you can be his daughter and still fight against him, then I suppose I can still be myself and your friend. Unless you don't want me to be anymore."
"I do, I just... we can't be. We can't be friends, Harry. It's too crazy." Never mind the part she couldn't say: that she maybe didn't want to just be his friend anyway.
"Is it?" he asked. "Would it be any crazier than everything else at Hogwarts? Everything's barmy here." Delphi laughed in spite of herself. Of course it seemed that way to a boy raised by muggles. And her laughter seemed to bolster him; he smiled at her for what felt like the first time in a million years. "I still want to be your friend, Delphi," he said. "Hagrid's right. My parents weren't the kind of people to hold anything against you. And I know you're nothing like your dad. You're brilliant."
Delphi's heart did a little fluttery thing inside her chest. "I am?" she squeaked, her Parseltongue going high in a way that would've made Boros flick his tongue disapproving and slither away.