Just Tonight
Tracey slumped back onto her bed, letting the letter drop from her hands and wondering if she'd made the right decision.
There was no other way, though.
She needed to be with the in-crowd.
Her father had drilled that much into her. But now, she'd been forced to make a choice.
That crowd had taken notice of Daphne Greengrass' apparent familiarity with Potter. On top of that, he'd already gotten on the wrong side of Malfoy for years. More recently, if the rumours were to be believed, he'd dealt with that group in a most humiliating way.
It certainly didn't help that the two had always been at each other's throats — on the rare occasion that Potter was seen outside class.
She was surprised that Daphne had mentioned nothing of the incident to her. Usually, Daphne had confided in her about everything, but it seemed she had begun to keep some things to herself.
Tracey wasn't blind either.
She'd seen how Potter had shot Daphne a glance during today's class, but Daphne had looked at him far more. She wore a different expression — a look tinged with what seemed to be longing.
That certainly helped her case; it meant Potter was not yet too far gone.
It was evident that she couldn't maintain her relationship with both sides now. It was one or the other, and unless Tracey wanted to disappoint her parents and put them all in danger, there was only one to pick.
Had she been too harsh on Daphne?
It was more important than ever for her to position herself well. Whilst Tracey suspected that Daphne knew that, the other girl had chosen her own side, whether she knew it or not.
I had to do it.
But had she played her hand too early? Would Daphne sway Potter against her, too?
No one ever told her it would be comfortable, after all. Now with the rumoured return of the Dark Lord, if Malfoy and Nott were to be believed, it would be more important than ever for her to stay on the favourable side. The side that would seize power, regardless of whether she agreed with their ideology.
For a moment, she cursed her lack of foresight.
If only I could play both sides, she thought. Potter doesn't seem half bad.
He really wasn't.
From the little she knew of him, he was most likely the top student in their grade, and once again, if the rumours were true, then he also stood to inherit the Black Estate once he turned seventeen.
Ruthless but genuine.
Potter was never one to tolerate bullying or buy into the dirty politics that defined the current era of Slytherins. He didn't look bad either and would undoubtedly project a powerful image once in the Wizengamot.
There was even potential for him to become Minister for Magic, but then he needed the support of her peers — the next generation. As things stood, the pureblood faction was unlikely to provide it. Without her, at least.
Though Tracey was ambitious, she doubted a woman with no connections, particularly a half-blood like herself, would even be able to secure a nomination.
This was where she thought she might be in an ideal position. Potter was a catch; if she wanted to succeed, she had to stop Daphne from sinking her claws into him.
He could be her way out. She could be his.
Otherwise, he'd be hunted ruthlessly. His odds of survival did not seem brilliant, being the loner that he was. She would change that. Making connections and building alliances would guarantee a place for them.
Tracey looked back at the letter she'd found on her bed, nerves rising, and read it a second time, knowing it would dissolve once she did.
Turning Potter to our side would solidify our position. He'll have political influence, and he'll be able to build his wealth whilst furthering our cause. Both parties would be stronger for it. Times are changing, and there is no escaping time.
You will be looked upon with great favour if you can influence him to our side; your status will be affirmed. Do whatever it takes. Charm him. Seduce him. It doesn't matter — the elder Greengrass cannot be allowed to persuade him otherwise. She already fell from grace years ago and continues to stand in our way, yet she likely doesn't even know it.
And I doubt she knows what she is getting into with Potter.
She is a fool. It should be easy.
I know that you are sensible. Looking to the future should be all you need to decide on the correct manoeuvre. As long as your allegiance lies with us, none shall stand in your way if you choose to pursue a marriage contract with Potter. Not even the Dark Lord — he has given his word. My father will make sure of it.
You have to understand the significance of this. The Dark Lord does not spare his enemies often.
We should not resort to rash measures. Take your time, and play your cards right. You know what my father said would happen if you fail.
The letter disintegrated in her hand as she finished. Still, it mattered not, for the words echoed through her mind relentlessly.
By now, Tracey was familiar with the handwriting — Malfoy had proven to be a helpful acquaintance and her ticket to associating with the group pulling the strings. As much as she disliked playing the political game, it was necessary.
She knew what she would be in for before reading it regardless, but wasn't sure how much an effect the seeds of doubt she'd tried to sow in Daphne's mind would have.
She'd never tell anyone, but what she feared most was what had happened to her former best friend. Tracey did feel sympathetic for her former best friend's situation. Still, Daphne Greengrass had done nothing to improve things for herself — interfering with her heiress sister's business was a significantly foolish move.
Tracey was determined to do all she could to ensure that Daphne got through everything in one piece too, but Potter would be shooting himself in the foot by associating with her.
There would be heartbreak, Tracey knew that much by now, but Potter had to be in the right place — which was not with Daphne. She would feel immense guilt if forced to break them apart by force, but it was a price she was willing to pay.
Daphne would hate her, but at least she would survive. The earlier it was achieved, the better.
It hurt to think back on the simpler times when she and Daphne had been but children, enjoying themselves with not a care in the world. Yet the memories were of an age gone by. Since Daphne had lost her status of Heiress Greengrass, their friendship had been more challenging to hold onto, but they'd managed it until this year.
She didn't even have much choice in the matter. If she failed, she would be trapped into a marriage with Zabini; her father had made her aware of that much in the summer, though she hadn't known the true extent of what she had to do.
Betrothal to a stuffy pureblood was something she privately wasn't ready to settle for, unlike the younger Greengrass or Parkinson. She would also be stuck beneath the Dark Lord. Zabini would not have the nerve to fight for his own position.
Whilst her position as a half-blood depended on marriage into a respectable family, she wanted more.
Their fixation on Potter had been abrupt, but Tracey knew it would be a smart move for them to secure the Black and Potter assets if they could. If anything, she was surprised that they'd managed to keep Potter's status as the sole heir to the Black Estate out of the news for now.
It had helped that scarce few were aware of the death of Sirius Black. The Ministry still considered him to be on the run.
Tracey was reluctant to cause her former best friend more hurt, but there was little else to settle for. Whether she liked it or not, she was trapped, standing at the crossroads and torn between the forces pulling at her heart and mind. Either way, there would be consequences for her to face.
The future held great uncertainty and a significant amount of hurt — that she knew. What it also held, though, was the potential for growth and change. No matter what happened, she was determined not to settle for mediocrity; for being a pawn in someone else's scheme.
And for that, there was only one option.
If Tracey got to Potter first, she could play both sides until the very last minute. It would assure her success and minimise the casualties. She was sure that he would also hate her if she bowed to the demands of Malfoy and tried to sway him to the other side entirely.
Secure Potter. Get Daphne out of this mess. Deal with the consequences. Betrothal contract. Leverage the wealth and influence over the purebloods and moderates. Hold the balance of power. Succeed.
Tracey doubted it would be easy, contrary to what Malfoy believed, but it would pay off. Potter seemed formidable but not impossible.
Somehow, he'd already drawn the ire of the Dark Lord, but it appeared to be a salvageable situation if he could be forgiven.
If not, she was screwed, but she'd die before being married off to an ugly brute like Zabini. Only time would tell if she was biting off more than she could chew.
One foot wrong, and I'll be back at the start, or worse, she thought. It's a deadly game of snakes and ladders.
"Good to go?"
Daphne nodded enthusiastically, failing to contain an excited grin at the sight of Harry.
"Where to this time?" she asked.
"Eager as always," he mused. "Curiosity killed the cat."
She pouted, looking up at him.
"I told you already, don't make that face."
"I can make whatever face I want, mister," she replied haughtily. "Where? I don't care how many cats died."
Rather than responding to her joke, he grew solemn.
"Away from this place. I need it."
Daphne was conflicted by his reply but refused to let him close off.
"Okay, let's go," she announced, looping her arm through his. "I need it too."
It was a presumptuous move and had been rather bold of her, but Harry appeared to accept it. Granted, he'd stiffened for a moment but relaxed eventually. She resolved to break him of that if she could.
The contact brought her thoughts back to Monday. Particularly her impulsive decision to thank him with a kiss on the cheek.
Oh my, I really did that, she thought, but quickly banished the embarrassment that threatened her newfound confidence.
He led her through the castle, and she found herself wondering just where they were off to. It wasn't in the direction of the entrance hall.
Then again, that would likely be locked by this time. Harry had snuck a note to her telling her to meet him in the seventh-floor corridor before dinner instead. She'd thought they would go back to that room she'd been in last week, but Harry had met her in the corridor. That meant they were likely off to somewhere muggle.
Was it somewhere fancy? Did she need to be dressed better?
Harry matched her attire in everything but her pleated skirt and stockings, both wearing their pressed white shirts. The difference was he looked naturally good in them. She doubted that she filled out her top nearly as well as he did.
Daphne adjusted her green tie nervously, wishing she'd spent a few more minutes in front of the mirror. She wasn't typically one for makeup besides a little bit of lipstick.
Don't doubt yourself now!
She tightened her grip on his arm as they walked. Harry seemed to know the perfect times to plan his escapades for, as the corridors were once again empty.
"By the way," he muttered. "I need to tell you something before we go."
"What is it?" Daphne asked, hoping he couldn't sense her nerves.
"I nearly used the Cruciatus on Umbridge that day," he admitted in a whisper.
"Well, I almost wish you did, but if they sent you to Azkaban for it, then who else would take me out?"
Ignoring her initial reaction, Daphne hoped that her light-hearted response, if a little bold, would put him at ease. Perhaps it would betray her nerves, but so be it.
She didn't feel like she could blame him when she thought about it. What that woman had done was vile, but she was also glad that he had been able to restrain himself. The important thing was that he hadn't done it. However, that was more for his sake than Umbridge's. Daphne still had to figure out what to do with the woman herself — it wasn't over until then. She couldn't get off like that.
Harry admitting it to her just increased the trust she held in him. She doubted he would've done so if he was truly malicious.
By now, Daphne had learnt to trust her gut.
"So you still want to go?" Harry asked nervously.
"Of course. Get me out of here!"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, sounding as if he'd just unshouldered a great burden.
Perhaps he had. She was now hopeful that he would open up a bit more but knew that she couldn't push him.
All in your own time, Harry.
As they ascended the steps to the dimly-lit owlery, Daphne began to wonder what he had in mind.
Harry seemed to guess what she thought because he looked at her and raised his eyebrows.
She said nothing, only allowing her amusement to shine through her expression.
They stopped beside a large window, where Harry gently disengaged his arm from hers. He then fished around in a back pocket, drawing out a small pouch.
"What's that?"
"Wait and see," he answered, the light from a nearby candle dancing in his eyes.
From the pouch, he withdrew a small, stick-like object. With a quick wave of his wand, he suddenly held a full-length broom in his hand.
"It's only a Comet," Harry explained as he fiddled with the pouch, "my Firebolt is stuck with my other things at my godfather's old place."
Daphne's broom knowledge was scarce, but she found herself nodding along. The Firebolt had a reputation. She filed the remark about his godfather's place away for later, choosing to try and keep the mood light.
"And what are you going to do with it? Sweep the floors?" she asked, only half-jokingly.
She'd never been comfortable with brooms. The idea of being airborne on little more than a twig terrified her, and she'd stayed away from them since first-year flying lessons.
Her only reassurance was that she knew Harry could fly, as she'd seen the first task of the Triwizard Tournament last year.
"If you want to," Harry answered with a shrug. "I personally think it'll be more fun to fly the thing, though."
"Are you coming?" he asked, mounting the broom.
Her hesitance must've shown because a look of understanding began to creep onto his face.
"You can trust me. It'll be over quickly — this is to get out of the grounds."
He scooted up on his broom, the implications of where she would sit causing her face to redden. To hide it, Daphne quickly obliged, sitting down behind him and carefully wrapping her arms around his waist. Or rather, that's what she told herself.
"Hold on," he reminded her, apparently unaffected by their proximity.
She immediately tightened her grip when Harry pushed off, sending them out of the window and plummeting towards the pitch-black ground. To stop herself from screaming, Daphne had to press her face firmly into the middle of his back with her eyes clamped shut.
Their flight only lasted about a half-minute, but it felt like an eternity to her. Both because of how terrified she was and her desire to cling to the only source of warmth. The wind threatened to chill her to the bone.
She took a moment to realise that they'd stopped.
"Uh… Daphne?" Harry asked, squirming in her tight grasp.
Daphne quickly let him go and dismounted, nearly falling over. It was only then that she realised that she was trembling slightly.
"Alright?"
A hand on her shoulder steadied her, and she looked back to Harry. His cool demeanour cracked a little at seeing her in such a state.
Daphne nodded, leaning into his hand slightly.
"I'm not great with brooms," she explained.
"That's okay. We can find another way later," he replied offhandedly. "Hold on when you're ready."
Grasping his arm, she steadied herself.
Harry turned on the spot with her, and they once again landed in an alley. Only this time, it was dark. Chatter from the street immediately filled her ears.
"Where are we?"
"Bristol," he replied, leaning against the wall for a moment.
She realised that in her excitement the previous weekend, she'd overlooked a few things. Particularly just how far that was to apparate. Oddly, he hadn't seemed fatigued at all last time.
"Are you alright?" Daphne asked worriedly.
"Yeah, fine. Give me a minute," Harry said, his head tilted back.
She looked at him closely, hoping he was telling the truth.
"Alright, let's go share some notes," he murmured.
Daphne saw a hint of a smile, quickly matching it with her own
She had managed to hold off her questions until he'd recovered, but as per usual, her curiosity got the better of her.
"How did you even learn to apparate? And that's quite the distance, too, isn't it?"
"My godfather," was the quiet reply that came as he led her around the corner, a hand ghosting along her lower back. "It's the same distance as London, but I didn't sleep well last night."
She leaned into him as they walked around the corner into the street, shivering as a gust of wind greeted them.
I should've worn trousers or something, she thought. But why didn't he sleep well?
"Hold on," he said, stalling the rest of her questioning before it could begin.
Harry stopped, fumbling around with his small pouch again as he faced the brick wall beside them. From within, he withdrew what looked like a patch of fabric. She strained to see what he was doing as his body was blocking the light emitted by a nearby street lamp.
Suddenly, a dark coat appeared in his hands. Before she could say anything, he held it out to her.
Daphne stammered a protest, but Harry ignored it, draping it around her instead.
"I can see that you're cold. I'm not a complete idiot."
"Thanks," she replied, putting her arms through the large coat.
There was no arguing with him here, and she didn't know whether she should be annoyed or melt at his feet.
I'm in so much trouble.
Daphne just opted to allow herself to be led to wherever he had planned. The coat was too big for her, but it was comfortable and warmed her up immediately.
"Why didn't you sleep well?"
"Nightmare," he said. "They're getting better, though."
It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but again Daphne knew it was more than Harry would've usually given her. She hoped he would be okay eventually.
Trees lined the street on one side, whilst old buildings occupied the other. Street lamps to their left emitted a pleasant yellow glow, illuminating the aged cobbles beneath them. The air was fresh, also containing a hint of salt.
"What's that?" she asked, pointing to a large statue in the middle of the park they were walking past.
"A statue of King William III," Harry answered, his eyes still scanning the street. "The park is called Queen Square."
Once more, his knowledge of the muggle world far exceeded hers, that she knew. But this time, she was merely fascinated by it rather than envious.
There was much she had to catch up on.
After a few turns and passing several noisy groups of muggles, they arrived outside what appeared to be a sizeable English townhouse.
"This is a 'pub'," he murmured in her ear, leaning down. "They do food and drink. Similar to where we went last week, but with alcohol. Feel free to try some — they know me."
Daphne walked in through a small double door beside Harry, enraptured by the setting. It was far busier than the small place they'd gone to for breakfast last week.
The atmosphere was a little overwhelming, but Harry quickly led her over to a quaint table in the corner. It was almost as if he'd sensed her reticence.
He slid a menu in front of her, already perusing his own.
That was when she saw a sign on the wall.
"Harry, why would they ask us for an 'I.D.' if we look under twenty-five?"
"Don't worry about that," he answered. "The legal age for alcohol is eighteen for muggles, but if anyone complains, I'll take care of it."
"What's an 'I.D.'?" Daphne pressed.
"An identification document," Harry replied, "like a driver's license or something."
"Oh! To drive those car things?"
He grinned and nodded back at her.
It's all starting to make sense.
"Do… you have a driver's license?" she asked curiously.
"Of course."
Harry sat back down and sipped on his water, trying to hide his amused expression as Daphne continued to explore the best way to eat a burger.
So far, she'd dropped at least a quarter of it onto her plate and succeeded in getting another quarter of it all over her hands. But, to her credit, she had finished half of whatever she still held.
"Good?" he asked.
Daphne made a cheerful noise of agreement as she took another bite, sauce dribbling down her wrist. She met his gaze as she put it down, immediately flushing.
"I don't know why they made these things so bloody hard to eat," she cursed, grabbing another napkin. A pile of used napkins sat on the opposite side of her plate, and it was all he could do to stop himself from erupting in laughter at her genuine frustration.
He moved his plate aside, upon which sat the remains of his rack of lamb, offering a knife to her.
"I'm not going to cut it," she stated vehemently. "I've gotten this far already."
Harry sighed.
"Alright then," he replied. "Good luck."
"I don't need luck," was her bold reply before she attacked the burger again.
She eventually finished it, wiping her hands and mouth and looking at him expectantly.
"Well done," he said, unable to restrain a smile, and she preened at the compliment.
"Thanks," Daphne responded with a cheeky grin of her own. "See? No knife needed."
"Yes, I see. Anything else you want?"
"Nope," she answered.
She finished the strawberry and lime cider she'd chosen, placing a glass with only ice cubes left in it back on the table.
Even after demolishing her dinner, Daphne still managed to look radiant. Harry wasn't sure how she did it. Perhaps it was a more natural beauty — she just appeared so alive.
He couldn't describe it any other way.
"Let's go then."
"Let's," she agreed. "Wait, we need to pay, right?"
"Already sorted."
Daphne looked at him like he was crazy.
"Don't tell me it's some new method of payment that I'm unaware of."
"It depends on what that is," he replied, smirking. "Have you ever heard of 'I went to the bathroom and paid on the way back?'"
She groaned into her hands.
"No, I haven't," Daphne replied seriously, digging a handful of galleons out of her back pocket. "But I brought my own gold."
Harry couldn't stifle the chuckle that came this time. She glared at him, though he saw her amusement in her eyes.
"They won't take that here," he explained gently. "You'd also be overpaying."
Now she looked interested.
"How much can one galleon get?" she asked.
"One galleon is about five pounds sterling. Everything here was thirty pounds total."
"Oh," she answered, looking somewhat crestfallen. "I feel bad if I don't pay, though."
"Hey," he whispered, leaning over the table, "it's alright, trust me. I took you here anyway — I'll pay. My treat."
Daphne looked slightly dazed, staring straight back at him, her lips parted.
Her eyes are too blue, he thought. It should be illegal.
"A-alright," she murmured, the beginnings of a smile forming.
Harry stood as she did, and she wasted no time in donning his coat again.
"Thanks for everything," Daphne whispered softly as they walked out the door. "I really appreciate it."
"You're welcome," he replied, gently steering her back the way they'd come. "There's more, though."
He was rewarded with an eager tremble.
"What is it?" she asked, beaming up at him.
"You'll see."
Harry could tell that Daphne's anticipation was growing by the second, and she was nearly vibrating by the time they passed the alley they'd apparated into.
"Calm down," he whispered with a smile of his own audible in his voice.
He knew just the place, and it was within walking distance, too.
Daphne spooned the last of her gelato into her mouth, disappointed that it was already gone.
"How was it?"
"Great. Incredible," she answered. "If they had this at Hogwarts, I'd be rolling around the corridors by now. You'd need to help me somehow float up the stairs."
Her remark elicited a chuckle from Harry.
Rising from where they'd sat on a nearby bench, Daphne dropped her empty cup into a rubbish bin, as Harry had directed her to, and rejoined him.
I don't understand how these muggles survive without being able to vanish anything.
He stood and began to lead her down a different street.
"We'll just have to find somewhere out of the way to disapparate from," Harry explained as they walked.
The hand that rested on her lower back allowed for an indescribable feeling of security as they passed through another sparse crowd of muggles. However, she doubted she'd ever admit it.
Maybe she was just drunk on ice cream.
The thought brought a smirk to her lips.
"Is there any other way you want to get back up to the castle, by the way?" he asked as they walked.
"Ummm… not really," Daphne answered.
"So, what would you prefer?"
"Broom," she replied quickly.
She desperately hoped that it was too dark for him to see her blush.