This Heartache
Previously, Daphne had thought that she was quite good at Defence Against the Dark Arts. At least, not this bad.
So, when the block of stone conjured up in front of her on the duelling mat was barely blemished, she couldn't help but feel disappointed.
"Try again. You can't expect to learn a spell immediately every time," Harry reassured. "You've done well enough already."
Something weighed on her mind, though. Heavily enough to ruin her focus. Daphne knew Harry was not the type to lie, let alone for the sole desire of garnering attention. But she had to hear it from him. There was also something she need to ask of him.
Her situation demanded it.
Her father's letter had come last week, and she'd given it to Harry later that day to read. Daphne felt he needed to know what was going on.
She'd sent her reply just yesterday, in which she'd done her best to play the regretful and obedient daughter, no matter how much she wanted to tear into him. It was for her future. For Harry's, too, if things went well.
Daphne hadn't yet told him about that, though.
"Harry?" she asked hesitantly, lowering her wand.
"Yes?"
He was currently flipping through a spellbook, standing beside her in the Room of Requirement. He'd since told her all about how it was Dobby who'd told him about it in his third year. The circumstances leading to it had been ludicrous, but again, Harry was not a liar, and she'd never believe him to be.
"The Dark Lord is really back, isn't he?"
His expression became… conflicted? Unreadable?
"He is. Do you have doubts?"
"No," Daphne replied quickly. "All I'd heard before was rumours."
"Oh. Sorry," he responded, somewhat contrite. "If you're wondering, I never said anything to anyone. I knew they wouldn't believe me."
That explained the paper that morning.
The Daily Prophet's reporting had been unusual this year. They no longer seemed to talk about what was happening, instead focusing on what was apparently 'not' happening. It was obvious enough once you searched for it.
She hadn't read the paper thoroughly but had spied a few of her housemates glued to a copy this morning. For some reason, there was a smear piece done on Harry within.
Granted, Daphne had thought they'd used quite a flattering picture. It'd been one of Harry from the first task. His hard expression made it clear that he knew exactly what lay before him.
She would've been terrified for Harry if she didn't know any better.
The tournament itself had been scary, rather than exciting for her. Placing students in that sort of danger for competition made no sense. 'International cooperation', they'd called it.
The article had called him crazy and dangerous as a result, using his aptitude during the tournament to further their case. Someone that 'shouldn't be around other students' or whatever. That was all Daphne was able to ascertain from her peeking, but she doubted there was anything of substance in it. It wasn't worth her time.
Rubbish. Glad I don't subscribe to that rag, she thought. It'll make things harder for me with Father, though. Or better, depending on how much he wants to be rid of me.
There wasn't an apparent reason as to why the Prophet would fixate on him again. Most of their 'reporting' had focused on vilifying Dumbledore, not Harry.
"What gave them a reason to do that, then? It must've come from somewhere," she reasoned.
"Dumbledore wanted me to speak up publicly. He thought that'd both save his reputation and make it more believable. I guess he wasn't paying attention during my second year with the whole 'Heir of Slytherin' business," Harry spoke with a distant voice, the spellbook held limply in his hands. "He mentioned to the Minister that I was proof of his return. Of course, I'd just been through a lengthy torture session and lost my godfather, so I was in no place to object."
He hadn't answered her question in the way she'd wanted, but Daphne still turned and hugged him without hesitation.
After holding him for a moment, she got on her tiptoes and pulled his ear down to her mouth.
"You looked hot at least," Daphne whispered, kissing him on the cheek.
She delighted in the obvious blush on his face when she drew back.
"W-what?!" he stammered
"You heard me. I'll have to beat the other girls off with a stick."
He stared at her with a dumbfounded expression, and it was one that Daphne was beginning to love.
"I'll never figure you out."
"That's part of the fun, Harry."
"At least you don't think I'm ugly," he retorted. "Or insane, like they do."
"I could never. You're such a cutie. And you'd be surprised how many of them are willing to ignore it, even if you were insane."
This time, his gaze made her wilt a little.
"I'll show you a cutie," Harry muttered sourly. "Okay, back to business. Try cast it again, and this time, focus on what you want to happen. Envision the stone breaking apart."
Daphne glared at the stone block in front of her, the cheerfulness from earlier being replaced by hard determination. She needed to do this. She had to prove to Harry that she could stand up for herself, and most importantly stand by him.
He was the Triwizard Champion. The least she could do was master the Reductor Curse.
Her wand was beginning to feel more comfortable in her hand as she went on. It'd been embarrassing, having to be taught how to hold a wand correctly again, but Harry had not berated her for it at all. Somehow, he'd been entirely understanding.
At least she wasn't entirely hopeless.
As Daphne performed the wand motion, she muttered the spell quietly, yet with intent.
Red light shot out of her wand, and this time it seemed to fly with purpose. She could hear the impact this time as it collided with the stone, taking a chunk out of the centre. It felt quite anti-climactic.
"Well done," he praised, beaming at her. "That's brilliant."
"Thanks."
She meant it, yet was unable to hide her disappointment. Harry had obliterated it when he'd shown her. His spell had been silent, too.
"Don't get yourself down. I spent a long time working on spells like this myself. You'll get there."
His words lightened her, and after another half-hour of practice, she was able to turn the entire block to a fine grey powder.
"You've done better than me," Harry commented, surveying the remains.
"How? It took me so long."
He gave her a disbelieving stare.
"It took me so much longer than just under an hour to get to that level."
"Oh," she replied, dumbstruck. "Well, I had a good teacher then."
"Rubbish. I had a good teacher and it still took me that long. Face it, Daphne, you're gifted."
It was praise she didn't know how to respond to. Did she thank him? But she also wanted to deny it — it'd been a fluke, or perhaps she'd just gotten lucky with the spell.
Most of her class grades had been fairly decent, sure. She rarely scored below an 'Exceeds Expectations'. Harry's, though, were quite literally 'Outstanding'.
"Daphne," he repeated, and she focused her attention back on him. "Trust me."
"O-okay."
Harry opened his arms to her, almost as if he could sense her lingering self-doubt. Daphne greedily accepted the contact, hugging him hard enough to elicit a grunt. She didn't move for quite some time.
It was strange for her to have someone she could regularly touch whenever she wanted. The only other person she could recall hugging was Tracey. Her parents had never been there for her, but that wasn't surprising. They weren't the affectionate type.
She somehow felt more familiar and trusting of him than anyone else already. As embarrassing as it was to admit, she itched to touch him somehow. An arm around him, a hand in his black hair, or even just touching shoulders. He seemed to soak it all up, too, and it was bizarrely cute. That had quelled most of her doubts about her being overly needy, or clingy as Malfoy had put it.
Screw him.
They weren't exactly 'public', but Daphne doubted explicitly stating anything would be smart for the moment. The less they were in the limelight, the better. Harry especially.
Daphne couldn't help but wonder, though. She'd need to know if the plan she was beginning to formulate was to go ahead.
"Is something on your mind?" Harry asked.
She bit her lip, wondering what to say. He tilted her head up and stared at her with a curious expression.
"I sent a reply to my father's letter yesterday, and I just wanted to ask… what are we?'
"What?"
"Harry…" she begged, flushing. "Are we, you know?..."
Daphne trailed off, glancing down.
"Do you mean to ask if we're together?" he supplied.
She nodded into his chest, heart racing, but found relief when she felt his arms tighten.
"I sort of just need to hear it," Daphne mumbled. "I know it's silly."
"Of course we are, and if you need to ask, it's not silly."
In hindsight, it was incredibly silly, regardless of what he said, but that tendril of doubt had lingered long enough. She once again found herself wishing that she could have a better relationship with her father. Part of her wanted to rush to him now and demand a contract with Harry just to assuage her worries.
What if he took her away?
Is it too late? Can I still spin it to my advantage?
Hopefully, her relationship with her father wasn't too far gone. Daphne just needed one more chance.
She felt she was running out of options, and her mind was already beginning to turn in that direction. Her cunning would be put to the test with him. She couldn't scare Harry off, either.
"I-umm… was wondering…"
"Yes?" Harry asked worriedly.
She looked up hopefully, fearing heartbreak was but a sentence away. Did he see something with her? Or did he just not have anyone else?
"Wouldyouconsiderbetrothal?" she rushed out before she lost her nerve.
"Betrothal?" He asked, surprised.
Daphne couldn't mask her rapidly deteriorating mood at his response, and had to choke back a flood of tears to keep herself composed.
"Oh… n–nevermind then. Forget I said anything."
"Daphne."
A hand cradled her cheek and stopped her thoughts in their tracks. Immediately, Daphne was entranced by Harry's calm gaze. His green eyes seemed to suck her in, and she was more than willing to oblige.
"Daphne," he repeated, "I wouldn't do this for just anyone. How this, how we, fell into place, I'll never quite understand, but I don't want it to stop. There is no one I trust more in this world than you. If you wanted one, and if we have no other choice, then it is not off the table for me."
She really, really wanted to kiss him silly, but she managed to contain herself for the moment.
"You mean it?"
He nodded.
"I've always wanted a family, but we should think about it before we go there. Why rush?"
It makes sense, she thought. I'm the second person he's even been vaguely close to. He must want a family of his own eventually, and I can give that to him.
She knew her mind was currently hurtling years into the future, but she didn't care. He was not the type to make things hell for her, even if the spark eventually faded.
"I know, I know," Daphne replied hurriedly, "but what if we could get one now? If it's a sealed contract then no one can stop us, and you know that marriage emancipates the witch and wizard."
"So you want to trick your father into marrying you off to me so that we can be legal adults and escape from their influence? Where would we go? How would we do that?"
It made her cringe when he put it like that. Rather than getting angry and upset, however, she realized that her idea was most likely flawed in some way that hadn't yet been considered.
"Harry, I'm scared," she admitted in a small voice. "I-I-"
He sat down, carefully tugging her with him down onto the duelling mat. Daphne slumped into his side.
"Please explain," Harry prompted, though his tone was gentle. "I won't judge you."
She immediately felt bad for considering that he might.
"I've, um…" Daphne started shakily. "I've always liked you, ever since second year, and I was thinking… I don't have much attachment to my family anyway, and I wouldn't mind taking your name. I'd prefer that over being disowned and losing it entirely. Father won't have any say in what I do then, and I can't be used for his purposes. You know by now that he is involved with Lord Malfoy. There is no telling what could come from that — I don't want to be trapped by it. I can't be. What if he betroths me to a Death Eater?"
It was true. She'd always noticed him, even with his elusive nature. Now she felt privileged to be the one person that got to see this side of him.
"Okay, understood," he spoke slowly, his arm around her. "Now hear me out, please."
Daphne nodded into his shoulder.
"I sort of see where you are coming from, but this is a little bit rash — even for us," Harry started, and she couldn't prevent a small, watery chuckle from slipping out. "We have no way of knowing how long this could last, and you wouldn't want to trade one form of imprisonment for another."
His explanation made sense, as reluctant as she was to accept it.
"That's… fair," Daphne agreed, crestfallen but seeing the logic in his words.
"Look," he continued, "if we have no other choice, or if we are forced to make a move of some sort, then a calculated risk like that is not out of the question. While we have the luxury, however, we should take this slowly. I don't want you to be unhappy. It doesn't mean that I don't like you, but I just think you should be sure that you want to make that commitment, especially to someone like me."
"Someone like you?" Daphne questioned forcefully. "I'll not have you degrade yourself like that. I am being courted by a kind, good-looking, capable wizard entirely of my own volition."
She felt him kiss the crown of her head, prompting an unconscious smile.
"You need to know all of the variables before you decide something like that, and some only appear with time," he explained, his voice becoming slightly clipped. "Others… are not so simple."
"What do you mean?"
Her worry must've revealed itself in her posture, as he rubbed a hand up and down her side softly.
"I've not been entirely truthful," Harry admitted. "The simple truth is that Voldemort is after me. That places you in just as much danger. Do you want to be a widow at fifteen, Daphne?"
"What? No! Harry, you're not going to go get yourself killed! Stop being ridiculous!"
She'd quickly picked herself up from her seated position beside him, but when she turned around, Daphne quickly regretted her actions. She wanted to kick herself. Never before had she seen him look so stricken.
"It's just how it is. If it's not me, then it'll be you," he replied roughly. "Everyone close to me so far has died. I couldn't let that happen to you, too. I'll understand if you…"
Her heart immediately broke for him. She'd interpreted his words entirely the wrong way.
Daphne rushed back to his side, hugging him with such force that he fell on his back.
"No, Harry," she whispered in his ear. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. We'll both get through this. Alive."
A while later, Daphne spoke up again. The lump in her throat had thankfully shrunk.
"I appreciate the thought you've put into what I suggested earlier, but why are you so fixated on the idea that the Dark Lord is after you?"
"There's a prophecy. I would prefer not to tell you, but you know enough of my secrets already so-"
"No," she interrupted, propping herself up to look at him. "I don't want to know what it says. I trust you. Whatever it says, I won't believe it anyway. We'll make it."
Some unreadable emotion rose in his eyes, barely separated from hers. She could see every detail in them.
"That also doesn't change my mind in the slightest. Even though you make a good case for waiting, I would not hesitate to enter into a contract with you, Harry. I don't think you understand. Most of us don't even get a choice in who we marry, our fathers will just find the most convenient suitor. For me, the possibility of having a choice is something I find unbelievable. I just need to make my father believe I've wisened up and chosen a good candidate to settle with."
Sure, he hadn't yet spoken of finding a suitor for her, but she didn't doubt he would jump at a good opportunity. It was a constant worry of hers since meeting Harry. Before, Daphne had been resigned to her fate — a marriage of convenience.
Now, there was more on the line. Much more.
"Just because you get a choice," Harry replied quietly, stroking her cheek, "doesn't mean you should waste it."
"Not a chance, Harry."
"You always were the bolder one," was all he was able to mutter before she moulded her lips to his.
Through the dopey haze that Daphne now found herself in, she did understand the wisdom in Harry's prior words. They should consider all of their options, keeping the contract as a last resort for now. She'd also need to work on somehow getting her father on board to open up that avenue of escape. The odds were on her side, though, as he would probably not be too hesitant to offload her if the opportunity presented itself.
Yet, that could also work against her.
Enough thinking, she scolded herself, feverishly kissing him.
Being enveloped so wholly in Harry was like being in another world. She almost couldn't believe her luck. His hand slid down to rest on her hip, slipping under her shirt, and she gasped against him.
Wow, I've got it so bad.
Daphne seriously doubted that her attraction to him was as temporary as Harry thought it to be. Maybe, in due time, she'd convince him.
Tracey sat still on her bed, torn between bursting into tears and tearing the letter apart. Fortunately, she didn't need to decide. The words on the parchment, written in Draco's snobbish, cursive script, disappeared as the letter disintegrated into nothing.
She'd not done much. Barely a thing.
The reason for that was simple; she couldn't. She just could not bring herself to do it. Ruthlessness was not her forte.
Tracey had completely underestimated the situation that she'd put herself into.
How utterly naïve of her.
The Dark Lord was undeniably back. Malfoy — both junior and senior — were slowly consolidating their positions, whilst Daphne seemed to have gotten much further with Potter than she'd anticipated. Both parties appeared ignorant of the other's actions.
Malfoy still thought that Harry was ripe for the picking. Tracey had fed him some drivel about how she thought she was getting along well with him, and somehow he hadn't pressed her on it.
Daphne's father was now also firmly in the fold of the Dark Lord, whether he knew it or not. She'd overheard last night, albeit through a sloppily-applied privacy charm, that they had some sort of plan for him and the Greengrass family.
Things looked bleak, and that made them even worse. She didn't doubt that at least one of the Greengrass sisters would be sucked into whatever they were scheming, if not both. That would also mean that she was out of time to help Daphne — if what she had planned could be considered 'help'.
It was undeniable. Tracey had screwed everything up remarkably quickly, and now she would be left to face the consequences of her failure, once discovered. She wasn't so oblivious that she couldn't see how Harry snuck glances at Daphne in class, and she knew there was more between them now than there was mere weeks ago. It'd been there all along.
If only she'd been smart enough to see it.
What did she do now? Was there even anywhere left to go?
She wanted to scream, cry, throw her belongings around the room, and sink into the carpet on her floor. Her reality was slowly setting in, and it was a grim one. None of those things would get her out of this mess.
None of that would fix her relationship with Daphne, either.
Tracey was now on borrowed time. It was up to her how she would use it, and there was only one real answer.
She vowed to do all she could to help Daphne and Potter, no matter how much the idea of them being together like that stung. Pushing through the pain would be mild compared to what she had done to Daphne, let alone planned to do if things went to plan.
Her emotional overinvestment in Harry was entirely her fault. She'd placed her hopes and dreams in someone that didn't even consider her a possibility.
Daphne had not seen love as a child, Tracey knew that much. If she was to rip away Harry from her, too, then the other girl might never recover. She deserved whatever happiness it brought her. It was her loss for being too slow and complacent.
Hell, she'd barely even exchanged more than a handful of words with him during the whole semester, and he seemed to have zero interest in her.
That just stung more, or rather it would if she could feel it. Sometime in the past few hours, she'd only felt numb as the circumstances had truly set in. It was like she was a spectator in her own body.
Perhaps, if she'd focused on a way out that wouldn't rely on anyone else, or at least not sabotaged her closest relationship, then she would've been fine.
This time, Tracey would need to execute her plan of action before it was too late. Alone. All that mattered was Harry and Daphne.
The others could burn. The rest of the world could burn, for all she cared. Hopefully, her mother would be okay, but her father could join Malfoy's clique in a fiery death. If not for him, she'd have never needed to worry about being betrothed in the first place. Lord Davis was a shrewd, yet money-driven man. She supposed he was quite like Daphne's father. Perhaps that was why the two of them had become such close friends.
Not like that matters anymore. If only he had some damn backbone.
Nothing good ever came from the Slytherin trio.
Nott, Zabini, and Malfoy.
Malfoy was undoubtedly the most dangerous of the three, whilst Nott seemed to be the weakest link. The former was even more cunning, cold and calculating than ever, whilst the latter remained impulsive to a fault. It was a wonder that he'd ever gotten into Slytherin.
His humiliation at the hands of Potter on the first night had been the talk of the house for months. If only Malfoy had been caught up in that, too.
As for Zabini — he was just a yes-man. Malfoy's bootlicker. She wondered if he got permission from the boy to go to the bathroom.
He wasn't exactly appealing to the eyes, either. Tracey nearly couldn't believe that he was his mother's son. The woman had been beautiful enough to attract seven husbands, yet she'd made a child with the ugliest of them all?
On the bright side, her now-inevitable betrothal to Zabini seemed insignificant. Tracey doubted she would be around to see it go through.
It was a cold, hard fact that she was coming to accept.