Daphne sat across from Harry by the lake, their unofficial meeting place. She had to admit, she didn't mind. The spot was beautiful, calm water reflecting the afternoon light, the great tree arching over them, nature humming softly in the background.
It was peaceful here, a stark contrast to the Slytherin dorms, where whispers and curious stares followed her everywhere. The low, damp dungeons always felt oppressive, a place of secrets and ambition where every interaction was a transaction. It was sometimes tiring.
Here, however, in the open air, with the scent of damp earth and fresh water, she felt as though she could finally breathe, a cool, clean air filling her lungs that was absent in the heavy, rumor-filled atmosphere of her house.
She had always sought out quiet places, moments of solitude- which was odd given her growing up with tracy and Astoria, you'd think she would be outgoing too- but this felt different. It was a solitude she could share with another person, and it was perhaps the most genuine form of peace she had ever known.
She knew why the whispers followed her. They were everywhere, clinging to her like cobwebs on the walk from the dungeons to the Great Hall, or even in the quiet corners of the library.
It wasn't just the fact that she was speaking to Harry Potter, the very symbol of Gryffindor. It was that she was succeeding in doing what many of them had only ever dreamed of.
Her eyes slid to the boy beside her, and despite herself, a smile curved her lips. Harry Potter. The other girls could mutter about "betraying the house" all they wanted—what really stung them was that she was the one sitting with him, that she had managed to capture the attention of the Boy-Who-Lived.
It was infuriating to them. Plenty of witches, even in Slytherin, had nursed quiet crushes on the so-called Boy-Who-Lived, drawn not just by his fame, but by the maddening reputation he had for standing up for people, even when it cost him.
Harry had not seemed much when he came to Hogwarts, but as the years passed, and even if it was just rumors about the things he had done, it was still something. She doubted that he even knew that people in her house respected him to a degree.
She still remembered the shock of watching him, a year ago, helping a pair of nervous Slytherin first-years when the older Ravenclaws were teasing them. He hadn't liked her house, but he'd stepped in anyway, his jaw set in that stubborn, familiar way.
Sure, he didn't like her house, but she couldn't blame him when the likes of Malfoy were always looking for his trouble. But he still helped even when he was being picked on last year. He had done it simply because it was the right thing to do, a concept so foreign to the pureblood hierarchy she had been raised in, where any good deed was something that had a string attached to it at the end. It was one of the things about him that had captivated her instantly.
That was Potter for you. She had also heard about him from her sister, Astoria, who had gone on and on about the "Boy-Who-Lived" who had helped her when she first arrived at Hogwarts.
He had a quiet charisma that she couldn't deny. He was powerful, yes, he proved that with him being first in DADA every year, but he was also kind, and that was a combination that she found to be utterly fascinating. Maybe it was because she wasn't fully able to understand that mentality.
"Y'know," Harry's voice cut through her thoughts, a teasing lilt in it, "I heard something interesting from Hermione."
She raised a brow, a hint of a challenge in her eyes. "Hm?"
"I heard we were dating." His smirk widened, and his emerald eyes twinkled with mischief. "Apparently, it's official now. So I was just wondering… when did we start dating?"
Heat crept into her cheeks, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she shoved his shoulder hard enough that he toppled sideways onto the grass. The surprise in his yelp was genuinely amusing.
"Oi—!" Harry yelped, a look of mock offense on his face as he glared at her from the ground. "That was a bit much, wasn't it? I'm a delicate flower, you know."
"Don't mind the rumors," she said primly, hiding her own amusement. "It was just a slip of the tongue. I only said it to annoy Malfoy after he got it in his head that he had a chance with me."
The air shifted. The light-hearted mood instantly soured. Harry's eyes darkened, a faint growl vibrating in his throat at the mention of Malfoy and her in the same sentence. He didn't like the idea of anyone thinking he could get close to her. The muscles in his jaw clenched, and his knuckles went white where his hands were balled into fists on the grass. The possessiveness in his gaze, though barely perceptible, was a sharp, thrilling jolt to her.
Oh. He was jealous. How utterly cute.
She leaned over, close enough that he couldn't ignore her smile. "Someone's jealous?" she teased, fingers brushing through his messy hair as he lay back down, glaring at the clouds.
He huffed but didn't answer. The silence was his assent. That was enough. Smirking, she settled down beside him, slipping his head onto her lap without a second thought. She hated how soft she got around him… hated it, and yet couldn't stop. And truthfully, she didn't want to.
It was a new and unexpected feeling, a warmth that had nothing to do with ambition or cunning. It was simply… comfort. She had always prided herself on being self-sufficient, on needing no one, but with him, that iron wall she had built around herself seemed to crumble into dust. With him, she could just be. No pretense, no masks, she didn't know why. It was both terrifying and liberating.
Her hands moved slowly through his hair, a gentle, soothing rhythm. "Relax, Potter. Malfoy couldn't win me even in his dreams. Honestly, I don't even know how Astoria finds him tolerable." She sniffed, a genuine sound of disgust. "Of all people…"
"Your sister, right?" Harry asked, though his tone suggested like he only half-believed Astoria actually existed, even when he knew her. The way Daphne had described her, she might as well have been a chaos spirit stuffed into human skin.
Daphne groaned, her shoulders slumping. "Yes, my sister. And no, don't ask. She's… infuriating."
"Noted," Harry said, smirking. She seemed to have taken it as a mission not to allow Harry to officially meet her.
She took a breath, deciding that was enough talk of Malfoy or Astoria. Her hands slid to cup his face, forcing his gaze to hers. The contact was electric, and she watched as his eyes, so green and clear, widened just slightly in surprise.
"But to be clear—I wasn't lying. I do want you. So what do you say, Potter?" The words were an honest, direct, a throw of the dice that she had been contemplating. She had told him she was blunt.
The weight of her words lingered between them. She wasn't joking. He could tell. He had known since she first looked at him that she wasn't the kind of person who played games when it mattered.
He sighed, knowing there was no going back from this. He could feel the pulse in his neck, a frantic, hammering beat against his skin. He felt like he was about to jump off a cliff, but the words needed to be said. He couldn't build a connection with her while keeping things like how he felt.
Harry sat up slowly, shifting to face her properly, the comfortable bubble around them suddenly shattered. His expression was calm, but his eyes were steady, sharp. He knew he had to be honest. "Before I answer that," he said carefully, "there's something I need to tell you."
Her spine stiffened, her gaze sharpening. Her face, a mask of calm, betrayed nothing, but the light in her eyes flickered. Her hands, which had been so soft on his face, were now withdrawn.
"There's someone else," he admitted, the words feeling like a physical weight in his mouth, the very air around him growing thick with a sudden, suffocating silence. "Someone I'm… interested in too."
Coldness flashed across her features, the light in her eyes dimming. The warm smile that had been on her face vanished, leaving her expression utterly blank, like a statue carved from ice. 'Yeah, I expected that'
She didn't interrupt him as he continued, but her silence was telling, like a blade waiting to fall. A sharp stab of betrayal twisted in her gut.
'Did I just kill this?' Harry wondered grimly, a wave of despair washing over him. He could have stayed quiet, let things develop, waited until he was sure about one or the other, but that wasn't him. He wouldn't be the sort of bastard who let secrets rot until they blew everything apart.
"So what?" she forced out, "I'm just what?, a distraction till you get together with whoever you're interested in. Playing with me."
"I'm not playing you," he said firmly, his voice low and earnest, reaching to take her hands. "You're not a distraction. Not something temporary until I move on. I just wanted you to know. She, Tonks, she' coming and wanted to talk and asked to meet you."
He watched her face, searching for any sign of something. He saw the suspicion in her eyes, the tightening of her jaw. He knew he had to make her believe him.
Daphne's jaw tightened. "Tonks," she repeated flatly. Her voice was a chilling whisper now, every word imbued with an unspoken threat.
"And why exactly does she want to meet me?" She knew who Nymphadora Tonks was, a powerful Auror she was the apprentice of mad eye moody. The girl had a bad reputation in the house, but Daphne didn't care. What she cared about was the fact that a rival had already laid a claim on him, and he hadn't even so much as hinted about it until now.
Harry gave a small shrug, a gesture that was both honest and maddeningly unconcerned. "Don't know. She just said it was important… and since everyone thinks we're dating, she wanted to meet you too. After all, meeting my girlfriend that I didn't know I had is something," He tacked on a crooked grin, a flash of his old self coming through the serious demeanor.
That earned him the faintest twitch of her lips before she schooled her face back into a frown. She was still reeling from the unexpected blow.
"And if I decide this isn't worth it?" Daphne asked coldly, her eyes fixed on his. "If I say it's better to end things now before they even begin?" This was it. The one that would decide everything.
Her voice was steady, but inside, a knot of pure panic had formed in her gut. She had put herself out there, something she never did. To be rejected now would be a wound that would take a long time to heal.
Harry held her gaze, the corners of his mouth pulled into a thin line. He didn't want to lose her. He took a nervous breath, a long, shaky inhale that he couldn't hide. His heart hammered against his ribs. "Then I'll try my best to change your mind. But if you really don't want this… then no, I can't force you." He was terrified. He had to be honest, but the truth was a double-edged sword, and he knew it. He just hoped his sincerity would be enough. For some reason, he didn't want to lose her.
Silence. The tension stretched taut between them until Daphne suddenly broke into laughter, startling him. He had been expecting a curse or a lecture, not this.
He blinked. "…What?"
"Relax, Potter," she chuckled, shaking her head.
"I'm mad, but relax. You're not the type to string me along. That's what I wanted to see." She leaned back slightly, amusement glittering in her eyes. "You could have lied, could have waited until you were sure. But you didn't. And it tells me you're serious about this."
She watched as his body sagged with relief, a hand going to his chest as if to calm his frantically beating heart. "Don't mistake me, I will freeze your bits off if you think you can pull stunts like this later." She added, and Harry groaned in response. He knew she meant it.
"That was a test?"
Well, the part of her asking if she was a plaything. She really was annoyed and mad, but.....
"Yes," she said sweetly, resting her head on his shoulder. "And you did well. But don't think for one second that I'll let you go easily. If I want something, I'll take it. And right now… I want you."
Harry exhaled slowly, the tension draining out of him. For a moment, everything else seemed far away. For now, it was just them by the lake, the breeze cool against their skin, and Daphne's head resting comfortably on his shoulder.
A moment that was all his, with no one else to interfere.
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