Love Bites
Daphne sat morosely by the fire in the Room of Requirement, waiting for Harry to come.
She wished she could say that the past week had been bliss. However, her life seemed to only swing between two extremes, the gap between them widening by the day. Initially, she'd been walking on air. That quickly faded the next day, however, when she'd stepped out of her room and had been drenched in something foul.
It'd made her late to class, soaked through her uniform, and some had gotten on her books, too, ensuring that most of her nights had been spent rewriting the ruined notes. Sleep had been a rare luxury since.
Then Daphne received a letter from her father.
She hoped that she hadn't intruded on Harry's time by asking to see him. Usually, they would only spend time together on the weekends, but this time, Daphne couldn't wait. Maybe they'd also be able to do a little more during the week.
Was that fair to him? Would he agree to it? What if he said no?
Daphne buried her face in her hands and groaned.
Everything sucked.
The quiet insults thrown her way had been especially bad this week. She didn't even know why. Had Tracey gone behind her back again? As far as she knew, Tracey didn't talk to Parkinson at all, if ever. Yet, Parkinson had given her a smug grin at seeing her inkpot tip over, ruining her classwork in Arithmancy.
Harry hadn't seemed to notice, either. She wasn't sure if she should be glad about it or disappointed. On one hand, it kept him out of the firing line. It wouldn't be especially fair to drag him into all of her issues. But on the other hand, she was the sole target of her housemates.
Daphne also didn't want to be responsible for any future detentions he may receive as a consequence — she wanted to be able to deal with her own problems. However, she was losing hope.
The stress of it all was starting to weigh on her. It was like a cloak of lead that she couldn't shake off, no matter what she did. At every turn was another problem, or a subtle, yet disparaging remark. There would be no hiding it from Harry, she knew that.
Behind her, the door swung open, but Daphne was too exhausted to move from her spot on the settee. Heavy footfalls came from behind.
"Daphne?"
Something unintelligible came out of her mouth in response to the familiar voice.
She felt two large hands close around her forearms, gently moving them aside, and immediately found herself face-to-face with Harry.
He examined her closely, and she almost cowered under the intensity of his gaze.
"You haven't been sleeping," Harry stated quietly, giving her a questioning look.
Daphne shook her head.
"No, not really."
He let go of her arms, and the pads of his thumbs trailed along the dark bags that almost certainly occupied the space beneath both of her eyes. His expression was grim, but she could see the concern in his stare. There was also something else…
Guilt?
She realised that she'd been staring at him for more than just a moment, flushing with embarrassment.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
A loud rumble from her stomach silenced any reply she was about to make.
"Come on," Harry said, drawing back, "it can wait."
"I don't want to move," Daphne mumbled, sagging and closing her eyes.
With him here, she could finally allow herself to drift off.
The first thing that Daphne noticed was the delicious aroma invading her nostrils. It had abruptly pulled her from her nap, now seemingly beckoning her towards the source.
Her eyes snapped open.
She was curled up on a cushioned armchair directly in front of a small table. Before her, four long tables stretched the length of the room, all swarming with house elves. Every food she could think of was carefully laid out on each, with almost no room to spare. The high-pitched chatter of the house elves mixed with the repeated banging of pots and pans was somewhat grating at first, but Daphne found herself adjusting to it as she continued to watch them work. It was fascinating to see on such a large scale.
This must be as big as the Great Hall, she thought.
"Enjoying yourself?"
Daphne jumped, her head swivelling around at hearing his voice.
Harry sat beside her on a wooden chair. He wasn't looking at her, but rather watching the house elves at work just as she had been.
She felt her stomach rumble again.
"Where are we?" Daphne asked quietly.
"The kitchens," he replied, finally turning to her. "I thought you could use something to eat."
"I could," she admitted, unwilling to reveal just how starved she felt. "Did you carry me here?"
He nodded, his piercing gaze distracting her from any embarrassment she might've felt.
"You've not been eating, either."
Daphne didn't want to admit that. She even wanted to vehemently deny it, but he would see right through her. Again. The rational part of her mind also told her that lying to the one person that seemed to be in her corner wasn't a good idea.
"Not really," was her eventual reply.
"You're far too light," he said. "Some food will do you good."
The legs of his wooden chair scraped across the stone floor as he dragged it around to sit opposite her, with only the table to separate them.
"Why are you sitting there?" she asked.
He just stared at her bemusedly.
Daphne scooted over and patted the space beside her on the armchair, to which he raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"I'm cold."
Rolling his eyes, Harry stood and sunk into the armchair beside her. She let herself lean into him and sighed contentedly as he wrapped an arm around her.
Just as she felt she was going to nod off again, a high-pitched voice made her snap awake.
"Dobby has food for Great Master Harry Potter and his miss!"
The house elf's fashion sense could only be described as esoteric. She could barely even discern the individual pieces of clothing, their colours clashing so horribly that he simply appeared to be wearing a cloak that someone had spilt paint all over.
"Hello, Dobby," she said tentatively, still taken aback at its state of dress.
"Miss greets Dobby politely! Miss must be an honourable friend of Great Master Harry Potter!"
Daphne smirked, looking over at Harry, who was observing the entire interaction with open amusement.
"You could say that," she replied.
"Thank you, Dobby," Harry interjected before the elf could continue.
Dobby thanked Harry profusely before hurrying back into the sea of house elves hurrying from table to table, and her attention turned to the table.
Various platters of meats, vegetables, and even deserts covered every single inch of the small table, and Daphne had the impression that it was a few more platters from collapsing. The sight made her mouth water.
"Dig in," Harry spoke from beside her.
She obliged and began to make a sizeable chunk in the food set out before her. By the time she was done, Daphne felt like she wouldn't be able to move for the next few hours. She'd even managed to cram in some ice cream on top of everything.
"I hate to bring it up again, but do you want to talk about earlier?"
Daphne leaned back into Harry again, shifting so that her cheek was resting on his chest.
"Okay," she mumbled into his shirt. "I'm full."
"Whenever you're ready," he reminded her after a moment of silence, his chest vibrating against her as he spoke.
Slowly, albeit steadily, Daphne recounted the past week. As she continued, she felt Harry grow increasingly tense, but he let her speak. It was easier to let everything out when she didn't need to look him in the eye. He'd probably be furious with their housemates, but to Daphne, telling someone else was an indescribable relief.
She stopped cold when she remembered the letter. Unconsciously, she'd begun to bounce her leg, only realising when Harry placed a soothing hand on it.
"Daphne?"
With a trembling hand, she reached for her shirt pocket, where she'd tearily stuffed the letter that morning.
Daphne took his hand into hers and dropped the balled-up parchment into it, resigning herself to whatever his reaction might be.
It seemed to take an eternity for him to read, and she found herself growing more nervous with every second that passed. He didn't move a muscle.
Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore.
"So?" she asked, her voice weaker than she'd expected.
"What an asshole," Harry stated, sounding as if he was gritting his teeth. "What a complete fucking asshole."
"Language," she scolded almost automatically, tilting her head up to get a glimpse at him.
He sighed, and Daphne saw most of the tension leave his face. A smile seemed to threaten his lips, but it quickly faded.
"I hate this."
"What part?" she asked, the nerves returning.
"All of it."
Apparently, her sister had seen fit to report back to her father. He'd not been happy to hear about her association with Harry. That was putting it lightly, too. His words seemed to play on a loop in her head.
The final line haunted her the most.
'...can't believe that he'll associate with someone of your standing. Spare yourself the embarrassment and end this ridiculousness. You're dragging the family name through the mud. Think of your sister for once, not some boy. Think of our good name.
If you can't control yourself, you may force my hand.'
Usually, she didn't put too much stock into what her father said. Last time she'd only been terrified because she had thought it would drive Harry away.
Now, Daphne had no way of knowing what her father had in mind. Would he strip her of her last name? Banish her from the family tree? His newfound partnership with Lord Nott didn't help matters either — he would certainly be working on reframing his public image.
Whether she liked it or not, her actions would reflect on him.
I've always known, she thought, glancing down at where Harry's hand rested on her thigh. But I don't care anymore. Even when I thought I was doing everything right, it still wasn't good enough for him.
His silence compelled her to continue. It was scary, in a way, as it felt like she was baring her soul to him. Daphne had never revealed this much to Tracey. Yet, she felt comfortable doing so with Harry. He understood, and most importantly, she knew he was in her corner.
"I know my father can't do very much while I'm here, but I worry about what will happen when I go home. I don't want to be scared anymore. I hate feeling like a victim. There's so much more to life — I should be focused on learning and enjoying my schooling while I can. I just couldn't be who he wanted me to be, and that's probably why he chose Astoria instead."
Daphne sighed, letting the tension drain out of her, before ploughing on.
"I stopped caring about what he thought of me a while ago. He never really engaged with me much as a child, and my mother followed his lead. They both seemed more receptive to Astoria, though. Perhaps they saw in her what I lacked."
"You can't keep thinking about these what-ifs," Harry said, now stroking her hair. "As much as I wished that you had a good relationship with your parents, we can't choose our family. I know that much."
"I thought you lived with muggles before?" she asked curiously.
"That's half the story," he started, seemingly reluctant.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Daphne interrupted quickly. "I trust you."
Harry finally met her eyes again, and her breath hitched at seeing the blazing look he was directing at her.
"That's why I'm telling you."
Daphne nodded against his shirt, holding eye contact. She didn't think she could look away if she wanted to.
"Until my godfather took me away, I lived with my muggle relatives — I was only related to them through my aunt. Dumbledore left me at their doorstep the night my parents were murdered," Harry explained quietly, glancing away. "To cut a long, albeit boring story quite short, I lived in a cupboard until I got my first Hogwarts letter."
She sucked in a breath.
"I take it they weren't very pleasant," Daphne whispered up to him.
"They hated magic," Harry continued. "Everything about it, including my existence. The less they saw of me, the better. I cooked most of their meals and did most of their housework. They made sure that I earnt every scrap of bread that I received.
"You…" she started, pausing. "You weren't hit, were you?"
What he was telling her was bad enough, but she sincerely hoped that they'd had the sense to not physically harm him, too. There wouldn't be a force in the world that could keep her from killing them otherwise.
Harry grimaced.
"They didn't beat me. If I mucked up, maybe I'd get food withheld, or get locked in the cupboard for a while. I got used to dodging them, though. Including my cousin," he added. "I haven't seen them for a long time, though. The last time I was there, I had bars on my window and they fed me through a cat flap."
Daphne hadn't noticed it, but she'd been balling part of Harry's shirt tighter and tighter as he'd spoken. She let go of it, frowning at the wrinkles she'd caused.
"That's horrible," was all she could manage.
"I guess it is."
She continued gazing up at his blank expression. His eyes slowly became glassy, as if he'd remembered some important memory.
It meant a great deal to Daphne that he would confide something like that in her. She felt that she was beginning to understand what had made him the way he was — the apparent aversion to touch that she'd observed at the beginning, the indifferent attitude, even the callousness he occasionally displayed. At his core, though, was someone who wished to be understood and appreciated for who he was.
Harry was like a puzzle with no one to put him together.
Daphne didn't want to change him. He seemed to lack a sense of self deep within — a lost soul adrift, perhaps much like herself. So much of her own identity felt lost as a result of her relationship with her parents. It didn't feel like she belonged at all in her family, and she certainly didn't feel a sense of belonging in Slytherin, either. She guessed that Harry felt similar — he had lost his sense of belonging with his godfather's death. That was her assumption, anyway. It would explain why he worked so hard, and why he was so tough on himself. Daphne still didn't know half of what he did.
There was time to find out, though. She wasn't going to bombard him with questions and try to insert herself into every facet of his life by force.
The past two months, however, were not all doom and gloom. She felt like she could be herself around him. Even with Tracey, she'd always been a little bit guarded, purely due to her responsibility to cultivate relationships as the Greengrass heiress. Following her father's actions, their relationship had become slightly more strained. The last time she could remember being entirely carefree must've been when she was six or seven. Before her parents' tutelage had begun.
The only other person that she'd clicked with before Harry was Tracey, but that had been long ago. Daphne suspected that Tracey was not the same person now. Unfortunately, it seemed that their circumstances had now also forced them further apart. What she had with Harry, though, seemed truly unique.
She would not let someone wrench Harry away from her. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought, and it was not a pleasant one. It'd been a while since she'd felt that she had something to lose.
Daphne twisted, her hands sliding up to his shoulders to pull herself up, and rested her head in the hollow between his neck and shoulder.
"I really am sorry that you had to go through that."
"We can't change the past," he said, a hand sliding up into her blonde tresses.
"We can't," she agreed.
The position she'd found was surprisingly comfortable. Her father would flip out if he ever found her draped over a 'boy' like this. Her lips stretched into a smug smile.
Harry looked down at her.
"What are you up to down there?" he murmured.
"Getting comfortable."
Daphne was about to protest as he shifted, but when his arms came around her she immediately quieted.
"Better?"
She nodded into his shoulder.
"I'll have to kill your relatives right after I kill Umbridge," Daphne said, only half-jokingly. "I hate that bitch."
"Careful, Daphne, I might need to wash out your potty mouth if you keep this up."
The mock seriousness in his voice made her grin again. She looked up, her smile wide.
"You and I aren't so different," she said, her sudden shift in subject capturing Harry's attention entirely.
"Is there something you want to tell me?" Harry asked seriously, his concern reflected in his eyes. "You don't need to."
"I want to," Daphne pressed. "Just like you did. I trust you."
He studied her momentarily, before giving a nod. She felt like she'd passed some sort of test.
"I never thought I'd have someone like this," Daphne began, trying to word it in a way that wouldn't lead to him running for the hills. "I thought that's what Tracey was, or even Astoria, but when we were closer, we were far too young to take advantage of it. I think Tracey and I just grew together out of familiarity, rather than a real bond. She was one of the first people I ever met. Of course, it was because of my parents. Networking starts very early for purebloods."
"Sirius told me something like that once," Harry mused. "I'm glad I missed out on that rubbish."
"It wasn't all bad. It's a good idea at its core, but when you have parents like mine and Malfoy's…"
"Yeah," he agreed. "Doesn't sound pleasant."
Once more, she was treated to a long look from Harry, but it was impossible to look away.
"I know what you mean, though," Harry continued, his voice quieter. "The only other person I thought I would ever be able to confide in, to have this with, was Sirius. Thank you."
His earnest words touched her deeply.
Daphne reached up, cradling his face. She craned her neck and pecked him lightly on the lips.
"My pleasure," she replied, grinning stupidly.
Before she could draw back more than a few inches, Harry leaned down and reciprocated. It was much more than just a peck, but Daphne couldn't find a reason to complain. Nor could she stifle a groan when he pulled away.
He chuckled above her.
"Don't bully me," Daphne whined.
"I'm not."
"So why are you laughing?"
"No reason."
She scrunched up her nose, laying her head back down on his shoulder. Daphne gave his neck a quick kiss, drawing back and peering up at him again. His breath hitched. A wicked thought crossed Daphne's mind, causing her impish smile to widen. She blew air against his neck and enjoyed the way she felt his heart rate pick up beneath her hand.
Perfect.
Without a second thought, she opened her mouth and bit down sideways on his neck.
Harry jumped, his eyes wide.
"What the hell, woman!?"
"Tasty," Daphne offered as if it explained everything, beaming at him.
He stared back at her like she was crazy. His hand came up beside her head to rub at the mark, and she was secretly pleased with how visible it was.
That'll show Tracey, whatever she's planning, she thought. The other girl's stilted conversation with Harry last week had set all sorts of alarms off in Daphne's head.
"That hurt," he replied with a pout.
"I'll kiss it better," she offered, rejoicing inwardly when Harry flushed again.
"Something's gotten into you tonight, and I'm not sure it's just the ice cream."
Daphne quieted, wondering if she should broach what she'd thought about earlier. Her finger drew lazy circles on his chest.
"Could we meet more often?" she asked tentatively.
He scrutinised her for a second, eventually nodding.
"We can. Let me know where and when."
"Thanks," Daphne replied, feeling relieved. "Do you think you could help me with Defence first? I've been trying, but with my other classes, I've not been able to teach myself very much. That woman is a horrible teacher in more ways than one."
Harry sighed.
"She is," he agreed. "I can help you. Our spot on Wednesday night?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed eagerly, beaming at him again. "Thanks so much, Harry."
"You are most welcome, ma'am."
He was rewarded with a tight hug.
"Who knew that Mr Potter was such a softie," Daphne cooed. "The first years are terrified of you, you know."
She felt more than saw Harry look down at her, and didn't need to look to picture his expression. A raised eyebrow, his lips slightly thinned, and a challenging look in his eyes, most likely. The tables were turned again when he picked her up and spun her around, setting Daphne down on his lap with her back against him. She hadn't been able to contain a small squeak.
"For good reason," he whispered beside her ear.
Daphne shivered, conscious of the warmth in her cheeks.
"Say, is there usually this much food for dinner?" She asked, desperate to change the subject.
"It's Halloween, Daphne."
"Ah."
Halloween. That meant…
"I'm sorry," she blurted.
"What for?"
The confusion in his voice sounded genuine.
"I forgot. It's the anniversary of… you know…"
"Yeah, I know, but I don't really care," Harry explained. "I didn't know my parents. They're not coming back, either. It's hard to blame people for celebrating today."
Daphne leaned back, her head beneath his chin again.
"I wish you didn't need to deal with these things," she mumbled. "Do you know much about them?"
"They were kind, so I've been told," Harry replied. "My mother especially so — she did save me, after all. It's nice to think about. She loved me enough to do that. It's not something I understood for a long time, living with the Dursleys. They told me my parents died in a car crash."
She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails began to press into the skin painfully.
"Dursley, is it?" Daphne asked through gritted teeth. "They'll get theirs."
He laughed, one of his hands moving from her waist to rest on her stomach.
"You're either controlling a murderous impulse or starving yourself. What next?" he asked.
He spoke with a fondness that was hard to miss, even for her.
"I'll have to murder my dormmates first," she mumbled. "Silly girls."
"You can leave that to me," Harry replied.
"Don't make their deaths too quick."
"Show some mercy, Daphne."
"No," was her petulant reply. "Claw their eyes out for all I care. You're a cat."
He was silent for a moment.
"Now, if you start calling me something bizarre like 'kitten'," he warned lightly, his distaste audible.
Harry didn't need to finish the sentence, as it was Daphne's turn to burst into laughter.
When she had him by her side, all of her problems didn't seem as insurmountable as they had before. Maybe their shared strength would be enough to weather the storm.
The looming uncertainty, however, threatened to infect her hope and turn it against her. She was on edge. Would someone attack her? Him? Break into her dorm at night?
Daphne wasn't so daft to think that Voldemort didn't have some sort of personal interest in Harry. He'd defeated him as a baby. All she could do was trust that Harry could, and would, take care of himself.
She couldn't lose him, too.
The thought sobered her, spoiling her good cheer. Harry picked up on it, but said nothing, allowing her to sink back into him.
Daphne refused to quiz him on Voldemort on Halloween of all nights. He deserved better.