Close My Eyes
A small black cat with startling green eyes bounded through the dungeon corridors, keeping low to the ground.
Most of the castle was asleep, but that'd never stopped him from staying vigilant. Otherwise, he'd likely have been caught more than a handful of times by now. Caution was necessary.
It was essential now that he seemed to have been joined on his late-night excursion. A housemate of his, perhaps. No one else would be in the dungeons at this time.
Harry's heightened sense of smell had picked up something other than the stale air that permanently lingered in the dungeons, and he'd eagerly pursued it. But, upon realising that they'd ascended to the first floor of Hogwarts, he'd returned to the Slytherin common room.
Now, he was sitting on a low-backed couch, observing the front door. He was, of course, back in his human form. There were no rules against being in the common room past a specific time.
His patience was rewarded when the door was slowly pushed open.
However, he was quite surprised at who he locked eyes with.
"Up to much, Malfoy?" Harry asked casually, putting his boots up on an ottoman.
"What's it to you?" the blond-haired boy retorted, though not in an entirely hostile manner.
That's new, he thought.
Usually, the Malfoy heir would've blown his top at the sight of him lounging on what was typically his area of the common room. Even more so this year after finding out that he was not the immediate Black heir as he'd thought.
"Just curious what a prefect would be doing out after curfew."
"Prefect duty," was the neutral reply he received as Malfoy approached him slowly.
"I know for a fact that you don't patrol on a Thursday," Harry said, raising an eyebrow.
"What is it you want?" he asked, feigning indifference.
However, Harry could see the frustration already mounting in how the boy held himself. The unusually stiff posture was a tell-tale giveaway. He found himself wondering just how Malfoy had become a Slytherin.
"I'm just curious. Nothing else."
"Well, if it sates your curiosity, I was sending an owl," Malfoy answered. "Might I ask what you think you are achieving?"
"Nothing at all," Harry stated tonelessly.
Perhaps he shouldn't, but it was endlessly amusing to rile him up. So far, Malfoy was exceeding his expectations for temper.
"Might I ask you something in return?" Malfoy asked, sitting down on a nearby chair.
"You may, but it depends on the subject," he answered warily.
"What's the deal with you and Daphne Greengrass?"
It was a question he'd not expected, and he nearly had to fumble for a response.
"None of your business, why do you ask?" Harry responded.
Malfoy sat back, crossing his legs and observing him lazily. His prior agitation seemed to have faded.
Once more, unusual.
He now found himself on guard at Malfoy's sudden collectedness.
"I ask because she has no friends. It's not politically favourable to be seen with her, either. Sure, she may be attractive, but she's unsuited to someone of my stature," he said, and Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek not to scoff out loud. "By chance, do you know why the title of Heiress Greengrass was stripped from her by her father?"
Genuinely curious, Harry sat still, thinking through his options. Where others may have subconsciously leaned forward, advertising their interest, Harry wanted to keep him guessing.
It's just like a game of poker, after all, he thought. And Malfoy suddenly knows how to play it.
Unless he has all along.
He felt the unease beginning to settle in, no longer feeling that he had the upper hand but centred himself. He needed to give nothing away.
"Do enlighten me."
The other boy nodded, staring into the dying embers in the fireplace.
"She's far too passive. Emotionally driven. Talkative, clingy, gullible, easy to deceive, disagreeable to her father, unladylike," Malfoy listed off, suddenly meeting his gaze steadily. "Unfit to be the head of the family. To be stripped of such a title is highly taboo, though I'm sure you already knew that. One can only imagine what else her father saw in her that motivated him to take it away."
Harry said nothing, his silence prompting him to continue. However, he was seething inwardly.
In contrast, think of what Lord Greengrass saw in her younger sister to resort to such a measure. He is not a fool. He knew what he was doing — the good and the bad. Astoria Greengrass is far more level-headed, and she will see her family prosper in the coming era of the Wizengamot."
"But he also knew what would become of Daphne," Harry added coolly.
It wasn't a question, but he wanted to see if Malfoy felt a sliver of pity. Part of him feared the answer that he would receive. Less for his sake and more for Daphne's.
"He did," Malfoy admitted. "Lord Greengrass would've weighed up the advantages and disadvantages. Evidently, he made a decision, and I would not bet against him. He is a sharp man. Consequently, Daphne Greengrass now sits at the very bottom of our order, hence why I was curious about your association with her."
The immediate yet undeniably rash answer he wanted to give was a fist straight through Malfoy's nose. However, Harry managed to reign in his anger, rapidly thinking the situation through. He had to feed him something plausible — a half-truth, even.
At least, until he'd figured this new Malfoy out.
"It's nothing that should give you cause for concern," Harry replied carefully. "Though, I'm not sure why you would be so eager to protect my interests."
"You have an important position in our society and our future, whether I like it or not. Let's not pretend as if we're both idiots — you are set to inherit the Black Estate, of that there is no doubt. Association with the elder Greengrass will negatively affect your status and the legitimacy of the House."
"You seem quite eager to explain this to me. Do you have a motive?" he asked, and unless he was mistaken, the other boy had suppressed a flinch at his forwardness.
"My only motive is the betterment of our society," Malfoy replied as he stood. "You are free to do as you please, but we do not always get what we want. It would be a shame for you to meet a sticky end."
"That it would."
His threat did nothing to ease Harry's worries. Until he knew what he was getting into, it would be better to play it safe, even if it did hurt his ego a little bit in the short term.
"Unless you have any other pressing matters, I'll be off, Potter," he said.
It seemed that Malfoy was suddenly eager to make a hasty retreat, but Harry did have something else that he wanted to press him on.
"I was led to believe that there may be retribution planned for what I did to your... associates... on the first night, yet nothing has occurred. Do you still have any grievances against me?"
He was treated to a long stare from Malfoy, who had seemingly regained a scrap of courage.
"No," he eventually answered. "I never directed Nott to threaten the girl with his wand. It was done of his own volition, and it seems he was too hasty in his questioning, for which he met the consequences. We are not thugs. Goodnight, Potter."
Harry was left alone to consider what had just transpired.
It seemed that Malfoy was developing the silver tongue that his father was so infamous for, which did not bode well for him. Gone was the hot-headed snobby twig of a boy and, in his place, a more calculating, careful heir to a fairly powerful family.
Though he's still a twig, Harry thought, snorting to himself.
The silent remark helped Harry to dispel some of his lingering anger — a need for rationality was vital at present.
Word must've gotten back to their fathers, and Lucius must've taken it upon himself to instil some class into his son over the past few weeks. It remained to be seen whether Nott or Zabini, the apparent co-leaders of their little group, had received similar treatment.
He wasn't sure how he'd managed to sit still whilst Malfoy was diplomatically belittling Daphne. It'd also surprised him, as he hadn't realised the full implications of her situation before. Such treatment of a pureblooded Slytherin was new to him.
A similar level of restraint had also been necessary when he saw the dirty looks Daphne received in the classes they had together. They had agreed to not openly associate with each other for now, but it pained him to do so. Even if rumours had floated around, it was best to not give them any credence.
Even Malfoy, who he'd butted heads with throughout his entire Hogwarts career, seemed to hold him in higher regard than Daphne.
Just the concept of her being described as so disgustingly lesser left a bad taste in his mouth. It made him want to grab his wand, chase after the blond-haired bastard and hex him into a pulp.
Harry, of course, refrained. For now, anyway.
Now he just worried how Daphne would take it. He did not doubt that she would want to know, regardless of how painful it would be, but he didn't know how to break it to her. She had probably imagined all sorts of reasons by now. Harry could only hope that her self-esteem would recover.
He liked her just the way she was. Hogwarts was bearable knowing that he'd see her again on the weekends — there was now more to his life than study, anger, and training, usually in that order, too. Oh, and he shouldn't forget the prophecy, either. Ever since Sirius had beaten that piece of information out of the headmaster at the start of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry had been preparing. His weekly outings had left him considerably calmer than at the start of term, though.
There were bigger problems in the world than Malfoy.
Unless he'd unknowingly given something away, the other boy had no way of knowing about his connection to Daphne.
Because that's exactly what he is — just a boy with delusions of grandeur.
To underestimate him, though, would be highly ignorant. It might even prove to be lethal.
He would be one to watch.
"Daphne?"
Daphne looked up from the book she was flicking through, seated at a small, private table in the library. Her mood immediately soured.
Before her stood Tracey, wringing her hands. She looked far shyer than she'd ever seen the girl before. If the events of last week had never occurred, then Daphne would've immediately wanted to hug her. Instead, she let a hand slip towards her wand.
She didn't know what to feel for her.
"Davis," she acknowledged, looking back to the pages.
"Can we talk?"
She shot her a withering glare.
"Talk," Daphne demanded.
Only a fool makes the same mistake twice.
"I'm sorry for what I said. It was disrespectful, arrogant and uncalled for. I'm not going to make any excuses," Tracey finished, sorrow written all over her face.
"Okay… so what is it you want?"
Truthfully, Daphne had already made peace with the idea of losing one of her first childhood friends. They'd been growing apart very suddenly this year. Whilst it was mostly a result of Tracey seeming to distance herself, particularly over the summer, Daphne had learnt to embrace the loneliness.
Harry had helped immensely. If she was suddenly completely alone, with no friends to look forward to seeing, she would've likely taken far longer to come to terms with Tracey's comments. Daphne didn't know what she was to Harry yet, but she thought it looked promising.
He'd even taken her out again just this past weekend. This time, he had treated her to fish and chips on the beach in Brighton. It was the first time she'd seen the ocean, and being able to watch the sunset as they dined had been otherworldly. The memory would surely be ingrained in her mind for a long time to come.
Daphne found herself eagerly looking forward to every weekend. It was almost like she was living someone else's life; finally being able to experience some of what life had to offer. She couldn't put into words what it meant to her. No amount of dirty looks, remarks, or being ignored could keep her down as long as she was busy fantasizing about what their next outing would be. Having company for it was the cherry on top.
Outing? Date? She didn't know what they were but loved them all the same. Though she hoped that they were dates. Daphne had never been on one in previous years, nor had any interest in anyone either. When she'd had connections, she was too young, and now no one in her house would come near her. Except to insult her, of course. The other students around her age would also never approach a Slytherin.
Those in her year had revealed some of their true colours, too. Even if they might look fair on the outside, they didn't seem to notice how hideous they were on the inside. It also helped that most of the other boys in Slytherin bore a closer resemblance to a troll than Harry.
Decades of inbreeding. Typical purebloods.
She hated it. She hated it all so much.
That's probably why she had latched on to Harry so quickly. He was different, and he'd proven as much to her repeatedly, not that he'd been trying to, either. Authenticity was difficult to fake. He knew how to stay in the shadows, and how to avoid the limelight, even with his fame. Daphne wished she'd met him earlier if anything. Maybe the past two years would've been different.
The other girls in her year weren't blind — she'd seen them eyeing him. None were brave enough to approach him, however. And if they did, they wouldn't like the consequences.
Daphne wasn't the violent type, but territorial? Perhaps. There was too much at stake.
Luckily for her, they would likely never dare to approach a Slytherin. Particularly one like Harry.
She thought they were doing well, overall, but maybe she had to prod Harry a little. It seemed that he could be a bit thick.
It suddenly occurred to her that she'd been daydreaming for at least a minute now. Daphne looked up, finding Tracey standing still and staring down at her hands.
"Hm?" Daphne prompted.
"I don't know," Tracey finally admitted. "I hate what I said. What I want is to be able to talk to you again, and to help you, but you'll hate me anyway."
"Why would I hate you anyway? What would you help me with?"
Tracey looked up at her with sad eyes.
"Things haven't been easy for me either, and I can't tell you about it — family business. I know it's no excuse, but it's difficult. You'd hate me for it," she repeated. "I can't tell you why, either."
Daphne softened at hearing the genuine desperation in her childhood friend's voice, but she didn't show it outwardly, recalling the girl's comments.
"I'll think about it."
Tracey gave her a strained, yet grateful smile.
"Thanks, Daphne. I'm really sorry."
Daphne responded with a nod, her mind already wandering. Tracey's assertion that she would hate her, coupled with what she'd said about helping her, had left her in a quandary.
She didn't know what Tracey could do that would make her dislike the girl more. Either way, she wouldn't go back to being best friends with her anytime soon. She didn't think she could bear another betrayal.
Putting his cufflinks in, Harry let out a deep sigh.
It'd been two weeks since his conversation with Malfoy, and he still didn't know what to do about it. Would it hurt Daphne more to keep this from her, or to tell her?
He'd felt immensely guilty over it. Over the past two weeks, he'd only been able to take her out once, as she'd needed to catch up on some study during the second. Harry didn't feel that he had it in him to seek her out and dull her mood further. He hadn't been able to bring himself to ruin their only outing with it, either.
Agonising over it had cost him more than a little bit of sleep, too. He hoped that he didn't look overly pale.
Would she recover from it? He didn't think he needed to give her more reasons to doubt herself, especially in comparison to her younger sister. She'd had a fairly rough go of things. Though, deep down, Harry knew that she would want to know at the very least.
Because of that, he'd decided to take her somewhere a little more upscale this weekend. However, it was not entirely for her sake, as he felt it would fractionally reduce his guilt if he knew that he had put more effort in. Daphne would enjoy herself more, experience something brand-new, and hopefully not think too badly of him withholding the conversation from her or for the effect it would have on her.
Harry made his way down the staircase towards the Slytherin common room, ensuring that his collar was smoothed down and tie perfectly centred. His head was still in the clouds as he descended, step by step. He was normally always alert, but at present his nerves kept him distracted.
Fiddling with his top button, he was surprised to not see Daphne anywhere in sight when he entered the room. Usually, they would both arrive a little bit early. Neither seemed to want to keep the other waiting. He sat down in an armchair near the door, happy to wait.
No one had ever questioned him about not being in the Great Hall for dinner, as he'd been absent enough there during the past years that nobody thought twice about it anymore.
Leaving with Daphne during mealtime had quite a significant perk — the corridors were mostly empty. No student would catch them in the act of leaving, and Harry knew how to avoid the professors.
On top of that, no one pried into a Slytherin's business. Snape couldn't care less, either.
That's why he was surprised when he saw Tracey Davis enter, and acknowledge his presence, too.
"Potter," she said, surprisingly respectfully.
"Davis," Harry replied with an incline of his head.
He'd heard all about Daphne's frustration regarding her. She hadn't known what to do with the apology she'd received, and Harry had to admit, Davis' other comments had been unusual.
Her brown eyes surveyed him thoughtfully.
"You're quite the mystery, aren't you?"
"I could say the same for yourself," Harry responded neutrally.
Whatever she was after, Harry couldn't yet put a finger on it. In the meantime, he decided to evade her questioning. He was hesitant to trust her even an inch.
"Touché."
Anything else she had to say seemed to die on her lips as Daphne entered, her black flats clicking against the stone steps. Her surprised expression rapidly turned into a scowl at seeing who he was talking to.
Though, there seemed to be a hint of panic in her bright blue eyes.
"Davis," she acknowledged.
Harry had never heard her speak so coldly before.
"Hi Daphne," Tracey answered, her tone more neutral. "What's with the get-up?"
Daphne looked at the other girl blankly from where she stood on the last step before she gracefully made her way over to the arm of his chair. She wore a simple white blouse and black skirt, though neither was part of the Hogwarts uniform. She had also kept her blonde hair down, and it looked as if she had curled it somewhat. Her make-up was so subtle he could hardly even tell that she'd applied it. For all he knew, she might've not used any.
It was a perfect mixture of stylish and formal, and Harry found himself briefly lost for words. He thought she looked perfectly capable of dealing with Davis' inquisitiveness.
Laying a hand on his shoulder, Daphne stared her down.
"The 'get-up' is nothing you should be worrying about. Harry and I have plans, don't we?"
Harry swallowed hard as her hand slid up to the nape of his neck, rubbing it gently. There would be no hiding their departure from her. Daphne seemed to believe that she wouldn't rat them out to Snape, at least.
It wasn't entirely obvious that they were leaving the castle, or so he thought.
"Yes. We'd better get going, actually" Harry replied, rising from the armchair and offering Daphne his arm.
"Be seeing you," Daphne added as she took it.
Before Davis had a chance to respond, Daphne had pulled him out into the corridor.
"Something you want to say, dear?" Harry asked with a smirk.
"I don't trust her as far as I can throw her," she declared, tightening her grip on his arm.
"Fair enough, but I've never seen you like that before."
She gave him a sidelong glance, revealing a dimpled smile.
"Rather good, was it? I've been practising, but I don't like it, truthfully. It makes me feel like one of my bitchy housemates."
"Very convincing," he assured her. "Where does this newfound bravado come from?"
There was a pause, and he looked over to find her deep in thought for a moment.
"You," Daphne answered quietly, studying the ground.
Harry suddenly felt quite hot in his button-up.
This is unbelievable, Daphne thought as she finished the last of her pasta.
Harry had taken her somewhere so posh that the restaurant's name sounded more like a spell incantation than a dining establishment.
"Italian," he'd informed her.
She had looked on in fascination as a well-dressed man nearly fell over himself to lead them to their table, passing muggles who made her feel severely underdressed. Some of the other women were stunning, too. They looked like they'd walked straight off the cover of Witch Weekly. Except, they were muggles.
It made Daphne wonder just what Harry saw in her. Sure, perhaps she could qualify as mildly attractive, but the women around her were real women, not teenage girls. They also weren't disgraced heiresses. Just regular women with regular muggle worries. She didn't doubt that he could get with one of them if he wished, even without his fame.
The thought made her sick to her stomach. Even Tracey had set her on edge, and she'd barely talked to Harry.
No, she thought, I can't think like this. It'll scare him off.
Her fear stemmed from two places. The first was her personal attachment to him, whilst the second bore deeper concerns.
Without Harry, she would be back to square one, or worse. The three weeks at the beginning of the term had been the worst hell imaginable. She would sooner run away than go through that again, and the bullying hadn't even been that bad. A remark here or there, or a shoulder check in the corridor, but her housemates had mostly left her alone since Harry had intervened on the first night. Malfoy's subtle threat from the first week had also resulted in nothing.
Once again, she suspected that Harry was to thank for that.
To lose him would mean complete loneliness for Daphne. She couldn't trust Tracey for the moment, her sister was as good as gone, and even the small black cat she had seen on a fairly regular basis seemed to have disappeared. There was no alternative — she had to make a move soon.
The past week she'd thought herself too busy to go out, and fortunately, Harry had been understanding. Daphne had immediately regretted it though. She'd missed more than a few meals hiding out in her dorm, praying for the weekend to come. Most of her study time had been unproductive as a consequence, and she didn't think she'd done well in her tests.
On top of all that, she had a suspicion that her father and Lord Nott had come to an agreement through Astoria and Nott. In hindsight, it'd been a silly move to intervene — her father would've never budged, even if her sister may have. But, without it, Harry may have never earned the detentions that led to their first meeting. Was she a bad person for not wanting things to have gone differently? For the sake of her sister, at least?
"Daphne?" Harry asked softly, concern lacing his tone. "What's the matter?"
She wanted to nod, but she didn't know if she was. Looking up into his worried eyes, Daphne tried to convey what her mouth wouldn't let her.
Without a word, he called a waiter over, and just a minute later was slowly leading her out of the restaurant.
They attracted a few looks, but Daphne barely noticed. Her thoughts were running rampant in her mind, and once again the only thing that seemed to keep her on her feet was Harry.
She'd already been in this position too many times. Harry, asking what was wrong, and her, fumbling for words, a sudden panic threatening to overwhelm her — like great, towering walls closing in on every side. All because her musings had taken a few wrong turns.
Daphne vaguely realised that Harry had led her to a park of sorts, setting her down on the cool grass. The view took her breath away, and she calmed at the sight. Perhaps it didn't look like much, but to her, it was perfect.
She hadn't even noticed if Harry had apparated them or not.
The night sky glittered with thousands of stars, and a full moon cast a soft glow over the landscape. They sat on a slight slope, the cluster of trees around them giving Daphne a sense of security. A lake, or pond of sorts, was directly in front of them, the still water providing a near-perfect reflection of the sky above. A ring of taller grass and wildflowers surrounded the water's edge, swaying minutely in the calm breeze.
It was a beautiful setting. Maybe she should sit by the Black Lake more often during the warmer months.
"Where are we?" Daphne asked, grateful for his silence.
"Richmond Park, London," Harry informed her.
"Say, can you keep a secret?" he asked not long after. "Please promise not to murder me, either."
Daphne could just make out a cheeky grin on his face. Bless him for trying to lift her spirits.
"Go on, your secrets are safe with me," she assured, and she meant it sincerely.
Never would she betray Harry as her housemates had betrayed her.
She was therefore surprised when he stood and walked over in front of her. Just as she was about to ask what he was up to, he was gone. Before her now sat a small, black cat. The moonlight caught its eyes, and she gasped at seeing its bright green irises.
How had she not made the connection earlier?
Now that's impressive, she thought. I wonder how he managed it.
Off the top of her head, there were less than ten registered Animagi in the country. She doubted he would be registered, though.
He must've worked very, very hard for it. I'll have to ask him how he learned sometime.
"You're so cute," she muttered, holding out a hand that he butted his head against. "Cheeky little fellow, aren't you?"
Following an indignant 'meow', he transformed back and sat down beside her.
"So, thoughts?" Harry asked, a hint of a smile remaining.
"Thanks for letting me pet you that day. I really needed that."
He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
"Want to tell me about it?"
"Oh, where do I begin," she sighed, sagging into him. "My father was threatening to cut whatever remained of my inheritance over my little stunt on the first night, Tracey was distancing herself from me, and my housemates were more vile than usual towards me. I mean, it's not much, but I…"
"No, no, that's understandable," he interrupted gently, gazing into the distance. "It doesn't sound enjoyable at all."
Harry seemed content to let silence briefly fall again.
"Did you want to tell me about tonight? I thought you might've liked the place, but if I made a mistake, please tell me."
"No! No, not at all, I loved it," she exclaimed, her face falling as she recalled her thought process. "Everything just caught up to me at once, I guess. I really appreciate you doing this for me, by the way. I can't thank you enough."
Daphne opted for a half-truth because there was no way that she was going to blurt out her thoughts. He would certainly run for the hills. Her gratitude, however, was entirely sincere.
"My pleasure, Daphne. That's alright — it's not your fault," Harry assured her.
"It sort of is," Daphne replied with a grimace. "I can't stand it all. I'm not strong enough."
It was Harry's turn to sigh now.
"You're strong enough. Trust me, I know it when I see it. Most people in your position would've probably been overwhelmed by now."
"If you weren't watching, I was overwhelmed back there," she said irritably, before mumbling an apology.
"It's okay. That's not what I meant, either. Not many would have the strength to go on," he explained.
"I just wish they'd leave me alone."
"Are they still bothering you? I can do something about it," Harry offered.
"No, no, I mean, thank you, but it'll be worse if you do," she said.
"Alright then," he replied carefully, "but if it gets any worse, please tell me, Daphne."
After she said nothing for a minute, Harry shifted a little closer to her.
"I talked to Malfoy not long ago," he started. "He wanted to know what I was doing associating with you."
That was not good news for her.
"What did you say?"
"I told him it was none of his business," Harry said, turning his head to look at her with raised eyebrows. "He saw fit to tell me just why your father stripped you of your position."
It was like a blow to the stomach, but she didn't let it affect her outwardly. She had to know — he'd never given her any hint or reason for his decision. As soon as he'd made it, she'd become an outcast in both her school and her family.
His tone did nothing to ease her worries, either.
"Please tell me," she asked quietly, her heart now firmly lodged in her throat. "Please tell me why he did."
"Alright," Harry replied somberly. "Keep in mind, this is from Malfoy, but he effectively said that you're unladylike, too foolish, clingy, gullible and whatever other rubbish about…
Somewhere through the sentence, she'd tuned him out, her lungs refusing to let any air in.
This was it, he was done with her, she wasn't good enough, he'd had enough and would move on to someone else, somewhere else, she'd be alone, stuck, miserable, again-
"Daphne! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep it from you. Daphne!"
She was snapped back to the present and expelled a harsh gasp. A pair of wide green eyes hovered only centimetres from her own. His hands were on her shoulders, holding her tightly.
"Harry?" Daphne asked in a small voice. "Does… does this mean…"
"Does it mean?" he prompted, still clearly distressed.
"Does it mean you won't want to see me anymore?" she managed in what was barely a whisper, her eyes stinging.
"Of course it doesn't mean that!" Harry exclaimed forcefully. "No, I couldn't care less about that."
"Really?" she asked quietly, a small bundle of hope threatening to bloom within her. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. I wouldn't care if you didn't even have two knuts to rub together, or if you were the lowest of the low in terms of whatever silly hierarchy this strange world thinks up for you. You're a beautiful person, even with any faults you may have, I know that much. Don't listen to what your father thinks. We can still 'share notes' — that is, if you want to."
Daphne continued to stare at him intently as if she was seeing him for the first time. Even though, deep down, she'd known his true character from the beginning, hearing it was different. The confirmation that she hadn't been wrong almost made her laugh.
"Daphne…" he trailed off as he gazed at her.
"Harry?"
Harry cupped her cheek lightly, and she leaned into it almost unconsciously. Though she knew what was coming, she was hesitant to believe it. She probably looked a fright, with red eyes, and her hair was probably windblown-
He pressed his lips to hers, lightly at first, and then with more force as she responded. Her arms went around his neck as she held on tightly, allowing herself to completely drown in him. She felt the hand that wasn't cradling her cheek wind around her back, pulling her against him. There were few words to describe the sensation — it was like there were fireworks were going off in her mind, reverberating around her skull, and frying every nerve she had.
Daphne felt like melting. Part of her never wanted it to end, and some other part of her thought it had to be a dream. It couldn't be real — she was in some fantasy world.
She pulled back barely an inch, feeling like she was staring into his soul. His eyes, in turn, seemed to bore through her own, the pupils heavily dilated.
"Is this real?" she whispered. "Is it?"
"Yes," was the whispered reply she received. "Of course it is."
"Can I have another one, then?"
Her voice came out small, the request sounding much weaker than she'd wanted to, but he didn't seem to care at all. His eyes crinkled at the corners.
"Anytime."
And then Daphne was back in whatever fantasyland he transported her to, doing her best to reciprocate, even if she was in a complete daze at being so enveloped by him. She was probably gripping him hard enough to permanently crease his shirt, but she didn't care.
Something in her life seemed to have worked out, at the very least. She wouldn't trade it for anything. She wouldn't trade him for anything.
An indescribable amount of time later, he was the one to pull back, trying to catch his breath.
"You," he said, gulping down air, "and I, are going to work through whatever you've got going on. Even if this eventually doesn't work out. You won't be alone, I promise. I'm not so thick to think that I'm perfect either, far from it, but we can talk about this. Together."
Daphne pulled him to her again, nodding into his neck.
"Together," she repeated, her voice a whisper against his skin.
She knew she wasn't quite all there at present, but her newfound hope eased any worry she might've felt at the realisation. Tightening her grip on him, Daphne vowed that she wouldn't give up.
"I'm sorry, I'm so used to people running away from me, ignoring me, backstabbing me, and everything else tonight too. I can't do it alone, I need someone, at least one person." she blurted.
His hand rubbed circles into her back, immediately soothing her again.
"I don't want to be alone again, either," was his whispered reply.
He really is a big softie, she thought. It suddenly made her chuckle. The potent mixture of relief and pure, unrestrained happiness she felt was too powerful.
Harry looked at her as if he'd been hit over the head.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing," she managed to wheeze out through what was now laughter.
"You're a complete mess sometimes, you know that?" he murmured fondly, finding her lips again.
It was quite an effective way to shut her up, or so she thought dazedly as she pushed him on his back.
They'd make it through to the other side, wherever that might be.