Hearts and Minds
"Where are we going this time? Somewhere boring?" she teased, adorably excited.
"I've never told you before, Daphne. Why would I tell you now?"
"Ummm…" Daphne trailed off, pouting up at him. "Because you can't resist me?"
He rolled his eyes, but not without giving her a fond smile. She took his proffered hand eagerly, and he led her through the entrance hall.
Harry surveyed the girl beside him out of the corner of his eye. Daphne was looking far better these days, and he hoped that she had been sleeping alright. Her porcelain skin was bright and unblemished, and the small bags beneath her eyes far receded from where they had once been.
At his gentle prompting, it appeared that she was eating better too. Daphne's school shirt didn't hang off her frame as much as it had before. It was even noticeable through the green sweater she currently wore, her shirt collar a flash of crisp, pristine white that framed her face elegantly. Bright, blonde hair cascaded down her back.
He wasn't quite sure how she'd pulled it off, or if she even knew what she'd done. It was stunningly simple. She was making it challenging for him to keep his hands to himself.
The grounds were quiet, and still dark, the slight chill in the air surprisingly tame for a November morning in Scotland. Harry inhaled the cool air deeply through his nose. The slight woodsy scent helped take his mind off the girl beside him, but only for a moment.
"Something on your mind?"
Harry looked back at her, unnaturally flustered.
"Uh… no."
Daphne gave him an odd look, but before she could question him further he held up a shiny, black billiard ball.
"What's that?"
"Our means of transport," he responded. "Grab on."
She bit her lip worriedly, placing her palm against the other side of the billiard ball and then lacing her slender fingers through his on top of it. The gesture seemed almost automatic.
Harry thought it was adorable.
He activated it with a tap of his wand, and a tug behind the navel carried them away.
Something slammed into him right as the swirling colours began to calm, and Harry was nearly knocked off his feet.
"Not so familiar with Portkeys?"
Daphne grimaced at him.
"Never have been."
She backed up hesitantly, looking unsteady on her feet as she took in their surroundings.
"Is this in the UK?" she asked, scanning their dim surroundings. "It looks different."
"That's because it is," Harry replied. "We're in Santorini, Greece."
He pointed east, and Daphne gasped as she turned around to share the view with Harry.
They stood atop a sheer cliff, the ocean beneath them a large, inky expanse that went on for as far as the eye could see. It was only interrupted by a dark splotch of land in the distance — a faraway island, laying still like a slumbering giant. A rosy glow stretched across the horizon, hanging like a veil over the water as if waiting to reveal the rising sun.
The only thing separating them from the cliff was a low, white wall, whilst the cobbles beneath their feet were a slate grey that was barely visible in the low light.
"Wow," she breathed. "How did you get us here?"
Harry looked back at her, a proud grin on his face.
"If I were to, let's say, hypothetically, procure an international Portkey such as this, I would be breaking at least a dozen different laws on magical transportation," he replied, taking in her shocked expression. "Of course, I had no prior knowledge of this. It's a shame that we activated it entirely by accident. Oh well."
He watched as her lips stretched into a smile before they connected to his. For the second time that day, he had to stop himself from toppling over.
"Careful, Daphne. If you want to go for a swim, we could just walk down…"
Her contrite expression was quickly replaced by one of pure joy as she pulled away and held him at arm's length. Harry gave himself a mental pat on the back.
"Sorry," she whispered lightly, the first slivers of sunlight illuminating her shining eyes. "You're too good to me."
Her heartfelt admission touched something deep inside him, causing his witty retort to die in his throat.
"You deserve it," Harry said, and he wholeheartedly meant it.
Their lives couldn't be dominated by the constant pressures and stresses present at Hogwarts. Sometimes, even if only for a little while, they could completely forget about that world, living entirely in the present. Harry wanted to give her as much of that as he could. She'd had it rough.
It wasn't a contest by any means, but Daphne's childhood sounded even more difficult than his own.
He was extremely grateful that one of the books he'd kept in his trunk from the Black Library covered the theory behind Portkeys, otherwise he'd never have accomplished it. Even better, Sirius had taken him here once, so he could picture the destination well enough to make it possible.
For him, it was bittersweet to finally return.
A light gust of wind brought with it the unique smell of the Mediterranean. It was a distinct symphony of sun, salt, and sea — one that Harry doubted he would ever forget as he took in the girl before him.
Daphne seemed lost for words, so he gently tugged her forward and guided her in the direction of the cafe he'd picked out.
The sun's golden rays made the whitewashed buildings appear yellow, casting long shadows into the neatly-cobbled street. Though narrow, it was not uncomfortable, but rather comforting, as if the buildings were shielding them from the whistle of the wind.
A few locals eyed them briefly but said nothing as they walked past. Some carried baskets, whilst others hurried by in aprons. They even saw a donkey being led up the street.
The cafe itself, easily identified by its blue-domed roof, was only a short walk away. As Harry led her down the slight slope, he saw Daphne repeatedly switch between staring up at him and gazing out at the ocean through the gaps in the buildings. Her hand remained in his.
"Do I have something on my face?" Harry eventually asked as they neared.
"I think you're cute, Harry" she answered cheerily, reaching up to tousle his hair.
He wrinkled his nose at Daphne, drawing out a laugh from her. It was music to his ears.
Daphne finished off the rest of her breakfast slowly, still staring out at the sun rising over the ocean in disbelief. The sky was slowly shifting to a solid blue colour with only a few smudges of pink remaining, illuminating the water beneath it. It was something she'd never seen before.
The water itself was a rich blue, and almost appeared unnatural. Clashing shades of darker and lighter hues seemed locked in a perpetual struggle, appearing as if they were battling for dominance over each other as the waves swirled below. Daphne could barely take her eyes off it.
If she'd thought the previous outings were good, they had nothing on this. Harry had outdone himself.
She took another sip of the iced tea she'd chosen, its cool, citrussy flavour a perfect companion to the idyllic setting.
Santorini had blown her away, and she'd barely even been there for more than an hour.
"We don't have to leave soon, do we?"
Harry turned his attention to her.
"We don't," he confirmed.
It was a Sunday, so they could go missing for the whole day without questions being asked. It wasn't as if there was anyone that would miss them, either.
That suited Daphne just fine.
"Can we go down there?" she asked eventually, biting her lip nervously as she gestured to the ocean.
"You think I'd say no?"
"Um… maybe?"
Harry raised an eyebrow at her, a look of disbelief on his face.
"I could never say no to you when you look at me like that."
Daphne couldn't stop a blush from springing forth, thinking of the possibilities that opened up.
No, she thought, scolding herself. Focus. Focus.
"Okay. Can we?"
He nodded, reaching out to take her hand and helping her up.
She took a brief look around, noting that their spot on the balcony of the cafe had not a single person in sight.
Before Daphne could say anything, the sensation of being tightly compressed hit her for a split second.
Both of them were now standing at the bottom of the cliff, in front of a small jetty. Small waves lapped gently at the rocky shore.
"Harry!" she scolded, head swivelling to check if someone had seen them appear. "Someone could've seen us!"
"It's fine," he soothed, "no one is out at this time anyway."
"But what about those people we walked past?"
Harry grinned.
"They won't see a thing," he declared. "Besides, muggles are quite adept at thinking up an explanation that makes sense to them — if they were to see, that is."
"How are you even doing magic outside of school? Won't the Ministry know?" she asked, coming to a sudden realisation.
"Sirius had… the relevant literature necessary to remove it from my wand," Harry explained. "Besides, this is a different country anyway. They won't have me registered anywhere."
She looked at him wide-eyed.
"Does that mean you can remove it from mine, too?
"If I get access to my godfather's house, then yes."
"If…" she trailed off, registering the implications of the statement.
"Want to go for a dip?" he asked, looking around. "There's no one else here."
Daphne finally took a moment to properly take in their surroundings. The island curved around far off into the distance, the northern tip hidden from view. On the other side, a cliff with multiple layers of contrasting brown and red tones jutted out, obscuring the southern part. The beach itself was a mixture of golden-brown sand and weathered rock, the beige colour darkening where it met the sea.
Up close, the water was a deep blue, yet also carrying a slight green tint. Its transparency allowed her to see the bottom.
Amazing, she thought.
"But Harry," Daphne spoke up, her disappointment setting in, "I don't know how to swim. I don't even have swimwear."
"Both of those are easily remedied," he replied nonchalantly. "One piece or two pieces?"
He must be talking about bathers, Daphne realised, remembering Fleur Delacour's choice of dress at the second task the year prior. I wish I looked as good as her.
"I don't think I'd suit two pieces," she eventually answered.
"I beg to differ," he said, a disbelieving look on his face. "You'd look great in anything."
"Whatever you think is best then."
Daphne wished he'd get it over with because she was torn between embarrassment and insecurity. She even closed her eyes.
"Done," he replied, and she opened her eyes, feeling the cool air against her bare midriff and thighs.
Heat rushed to her cheeks as she looked down at the green two-piece he'd transfigured her clothes into.
Tentatively looking up at Harry, she tried to gauge his reaction.
He stared back at her stupidly.
"Harry?"
Snapping back to the moment, he seemed to gather himself, before focusing on his clothing. He waved his wand at his trousers and then tore his shirt off. Her eyes flicked over his torso, and she had to force herself to look away.
"The transfiguration should last a few hours, but I can always revert it and then dry our clothes. No stress."
His tone sounded strained, and it made her feel a bit better about her predicament.
"Do I look fine?" she asked, her worry outweighing her awkwardness as she raised her arms.
Harry glanced up at her, before quickly looking away.
"Daphne," he groaned. "You can't do that."
"Do what?" she replied, bemused. "What do you mean?"
"You can't do that," Harry repeated, studying the sand beneath his feet intently. "You… um… look good. Too good."
As Daphne took in his beet-red face, her mind registered his words, and she felt her complexion matching his.
"Oh… o-okay," she managed breathlessly.
She'd never thought of herself as being attractive like that. Her body was nothing special. There were countless things she would change if she could. For one, she could not be so pale.
Yet, all of that seemed insignificant when compared to his reaction. Maybe she wasn't so undesirable after all.
Harry flicked a spell her way and she immediately felt the cold fade away, before he did it to himself. It did nothing to quell her raging hormones, and neither did the cool water she'd just stepped into.
He most certainly WILL be the death of me.
"Right," he said uneasily. "So. Swimming…"
She'd never seen him this flustered. It didn't help that she was a bit hot and bothered herself.
Is this the day I drown?
As soon as his hand touched her lower back to guide her in with him, she had her answer.
Yes, it most definitely is, she thought, now waist-deep in the gentle waves.
Daphne wasn't quite sure that she was opposed to it, though.
She recalled the step-by-step guide to resuscitation she'd seen at the beach when they'd been to Brighton. Suddenly, drowning didn't seem like such a bad idea.
Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts.
When they got back at around midday, they barely made it into the Room of Requirement before Harry dragged her onto a large settee and kissed her hard.
Every touch of him against her set Daphne's skin on fire, her brain swimming in happy chemicals. She'd barely been able to focus for the past few hours.
He found the sensitive spot at the base of her neck, attacking it with a fervour she'd rarely seen from him before. It made her want to melt into a puddle.
Harry paused for a moment, and she saw her opportunity. Ignoring how good it felt to have his hands on her hips, Daphne pushed him back and began kissing up his neck. She made it to his earlobe and took it between her teeth, tasting the salt that lingered on his skin. Her hands roamed freely, fingers eagerly unbuttoning the shirt he'd only just put back on after swimming.
"Daphne!" he gasped, and she drew back reluctantly
"Yes?"
"We need to stop."
She frowned at him, her frustration mounting.
"Why?"
For a moment, all she got in return was a raised eyebrow.
"Isn't it obvious? I won't be able to keep my hands off you for much longer."
"And what's so bad about that?" Daphne asked as she took him in from above.
He was adorably dishevelled.
"We're not ready for that. Not even close."
"Why do you need to be the sensible one?" she responded after a pause, pouting.
"Because you'd starve otherwise."
As much as Daphne wanted to vehemently deny the statement, she couldn't. She'd made a habit out of undereating whenever she was stressed in the past. It'd only worsened this year.
The urge to eat just didn't register when she had so much on her mind.
"Okay, fair point, but you didn't need to bring that up."
"Sorry, but for someone that doesn't eat much, you certainly love to bite," he added amusedly.
"I don't hear you complaining," she retorted.
"I'm not. You're gonna kill me if you keep it up."
"I just might."
Harry lay still beneath her, clothes rumpled and hands resting on her sides. Judging by his furrowed brow, it looked as if he was lost in thought. Daphne thought she should give him a moment.
"You'd be in a bad place if I didn't make it, Daphne."
Heart racing, she didn't like the sombre expression that he'd adopted.
"What do you mean? Harry, we're both going to make it. We've been over this."
Daphne was beginning to realise something about Harry.
As scarily competent as he sometimes was, it wasn't what was holding him back. He had the means to overcome any challenge he'd faced so far. Harry's survival was evidence enough of that. It seemed to be the mental component that weighed him down.
Daphne knew from experience that self-doubt, when left to fester, was one of the worst adversaries one could face. Its whispered words of poison were highly convincing, requiring a particular level of introspection and awareness to overcome.
She didn't always recognise it, but she was getting better. As ironic as it was, Harry was mostly the one responsible for the change in her, even if he didn't realise it. He was quick to identify her toxic thoughts whenever they seeped through, as he had that past Wednesday.
It made her wonder if Sirius had ever had enough time with Harry to stop him thinking in that way. He'd likely known nothing but negativity his whole life, seeing as he didn't have any other friends and less-than-desirable relatives. Daphne would have to help him as much as she could.
Perhaps it explained why he'd gone through with Umbridge's first detention in its entirety. At least she'd gotten him to see sense before that horrid woman did any more damage.
She barely looked at the professor in their Defence class these days, purely out of fear of what she would do to that toad. Reluctantly, she'd caved in to Harry's request to leave it alone. They didn't need more heat with her current situation.
Maybe I do belong in Gryffindor, she thought absentmindedly. But then I wouldn't have Harry.
Though her worries had increased tenfold this year, Daphne now felt that she, or rather they, stood a chance. It was perhaps the first time in years that she'd truly felt like there was a possibility of something better just on the other side.
They'd probably have to go through hell to get there, though.
"Harry?" she prompted, still waiting on a response.
"I don't want to do anything we aren't ready for," he replied slowly, still gazing up with glassy eyes before focusing on her. "Nothing in life is ever guaranteed. If we… do go there, and you're alone at the end of this, then they won't look on you favourably. It'll help with winning over your father if we do this properly, too."
"You mean… you want me to try?"
Harry looked at her strangely.
"Well, it'd be daft not to, no? If it's the best way to navigate this mess, then we'll need to have it available to us. I can't think of any other way to become a legal adult at my age," he explained. "He'd probably hunt me down himself if he found out."
Daphne couldn't suppress a slow grin.
"You're loving this, aren't you, Greengrass?"
"Why should I not?" she answered, a hand on his cheek. "Alright, I'll try. You're probably right."
"As usual," he teased.
She arched an eyebrow at him.
"You're the one that insisted on going to Umbridge's detentions," Daphne reminded gently, kissing his brow.
"Fair point," Harry conceded, slipping a hand underneath her shirt to rub small circles on her bare stomach. "You're not hungry, are you?"
Leaning in, she placed her mouth beside his ear.
"Only for one thing. If I got my way, Potter, you'd be begging for mercy."
"Potter?" she called hesitantly, seeing him walking away from her down a seventh-floor corridor.
Tracey had been searching for Harry Potter for a few days now, and finally found him just before the weekend. The few glimpses she'd got of him throughout the week always ended with him disappearing.
She wondered what he would be doing up here on a Friday night.
When he did not indicate that he'd heard her, she sped up, reaching out to grab his arm.
This is it.
Before her hand could make contact, he jerked away and turned, an unimpressed look on his face.
"Why have you been following me? Don't think I haven't noticed."
Despite his coolness, Tracey cheered internally at finally being able to speak to him. Her excitement faded as she was reminded of the subject at hand.
"I need to talk to you. This is urgent, and unless you want Daphne hurt, you'll listen."
It was cruel, but she had to ensure his interest in what she had to say if she wanted to help.
Tracey began to realise that she'd gotten more than she'd bargained for when he gripped her arm tightly and dragged her into a dark classroom. He waved his wand around after he shut the door, not letting go of her. She winced when he relinquished his grip.
That'll bruise, she thought.
"Speak. Why should I believe you? What do you want to do to her?"
His expression was one of suppressed rage. She could barely see it, as the classroom was only illuminated by a sliver of moonlight, but it made her want to wither.
"I-I…"
"Get on with it," he demanded. "I'd love to know what you're playing at."
Tracey breathed out in an attempt to calm herself before she began to explain her situation. When she'd finished, Potter looked to be deep in thought, his face somewhat paler.
"So… let me get this straight. Malfoy wanted you to… seduce me… so that I would be on his side, and in return, you would get a contract with me and Voldemort would leave me alone?"
"Pretty much," she answered glumly.
Seeing a purplish patch of skin just below his collar, even in the dark room, Tracey felt jealousy bubble up.
Part of her still wished that she hadn't told him and that her plan had succeeded. That she could be beside him. Those fantasies were, however, long gone now.
"I find that hard to believe. Besides, he wouldn't just leave me alone."
Potter fixed her with that stare of his again after a moment of thought. "Why would they not get you to make a vow? How do I know that you're telling the truth?"
"I don't know. I can't," Tracey replied worriedly. "All I have is this."
She had to calm her raging nerves as she reached for her bag. It'd been an absolute pain to procure, but she'd managed it. With trembling hands, she handed the letter over.
It was a correspondence between Lord Nott and his son. She'd found it on his desk last night after creeping around in a few of the boys' dorms, desperately searching for something to convince Potter of her legitimacy, and she'd hit the jackpot.
Tracey didn't want to think about what would've happened if she'd been caught. It'd taken all of her courage. Fortunately, the boy hadn't had the sense to dispose of it before she could duplicate the letter. Nor had he secured his room in any way.
Hopefully, Nott's carelessness would be repeated.
"You've taken a great risk with this, Davis. What if they found out?"
She shrugged.
"I've not got much else left to lose."
It was a depressing thought, but one she'd come to terms with. Her days were numbered.
Potter returned to the letter, skimming over it.
"Is that what Lord Greengrass was after? This 'business dealing'?
"As far as I know, they have an arrangement around black market goods and smuggling. In return, Lord Greengrass will lend their faction his political influence and support — which is more than you might think. I do not believe he is aware of the plan surrounding you and me. He only knows of the Malfoys' interest in Astoria Greengrass."
"And this part?" he asked, holding the letter out to her with a finger on the final paragraph.
You must bide your time. Let the Malfoy heir take the lead, and do as he asks without question. The Dark Lord will look upon all of you most favourably if you can keep your head down and ensure that Potter grows closer to Davis. Our plans for the near future depend on it, otherwise, we shall need to resort to finding it ourselves with the aid of an Unspeakable. Lord Malfoy's words cause us to believe that Potter is more dangerous than we first expected, even following the tournament. The Dark Lord shares that sentiment.
Tread lightly.
It sounded ominous, yet Tracey had no clue what the first part referred to, nor did she know what they needed an Unspeakable for.
"I don't know what Malfoy is up to," Tracey answered hesitantly, "but I promise I will tell you. I'll help both of you as much as I can."
"Your trust remains to be established, Davis," Potter replied. "I'll not be fooled so easily, nor will I be liberal with my trust. Daphne's well-being depends on it. You should know that."
She nodded, feeling deeply ashamed that she had even entertained the thought of separating the two. It was obvious that he cared for her greatly by his wording alone.
"You wouldn't know what they're looking for, would you?" Tracey asked.
His face remained blank, but his eyes gave away his unease.
"No. I'd recommend you to not go asking questions, either. If I find out you're acting against Daphne's best interests, then the consequences won't be pleasant."
Tracey shivered at his tone, and she nodded.
"I swear it on my life. By the way, I'm sorry, for what it's worth."
"If you are trying to help us, we will do our best to return the favour, Davis, but nothing is ever sure."
With that, he swept past her, immediately disappearing into the shadows of the room. His footsteps were almost inaudible.
The door to the room was ajar when she reached it, but the corridor outside was empty.
How odd, she thought.