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ACT3CH15 - Reasons
🕑 Added 2023-09-20 14:03:45 +0000 UTC“Honestly, Potter,” claimed Lee Jordan. “You’re such a disappointment.”
“Agreed,” said Fred, sneering. “Really not expected of you.”
“Where did we go wrong?” mourned George, palming his face.
“Dumbledore did say it was because of the curse,” said Hermione. “So it’s an interim position.”
“Yeah,” said Ginny, her tone as wet as the Sahara. “Incredible are the effects of age on a man’s judgement.”
Harry rolled his eyes, and accepted the good natured ribbing. He was sitting in Gryffindor Tower. After the momentous declaration by the Headmaster during the dinner table, the twins had grabbed him by his hands, and all but dragged him to Gryffindor tower. He had anticipated Hermione grilling him about it, and maybe a healthy bout of teasing from Ron and the twins.
Instead…
“How else do you explain it?” added Fred, with a voice full of consternation, “You'll be disciplining students, Harry? Giving grades? You?”
“The son of a Marauder too?” added George. “Your godfather must be washing the shame off with firewhiskey.”
“Well, I didn’t ask for it,” said Harry. “Dumbledore practically shoved it on my head.”
“Semantics,” said Lavender.
“At least he’ll be able to give Malfoy endless detentions,” said Ron.
Harry rolled his eyes.
“Really, Harry,” said Parvati. “You’re the last guy anyone would ever expect sitting on the Professor’s chair. Didn’t you attack Snape in third year?”
Harry winced, remembering about that one time. It had been a measly little disarming spell, but he was running on high emotions and had overpowered it, blasting Snape into the wall. No wonder the dungeon bat went out of his way to make things hell for him during their training sessions.
Still, how did Parvati of all people know of it?
“First Ronnie becomes a Prefect, and now Harry becomes a Professor,” said Fred, before both twins turned to glare at Hermione. “We blame you for corrupting these innocent, impressionable kids.”
“Truly,” added Lee. “What glorious futures they had! And now they’re gonna sit in dusty robes on dusty chairs in dusty classrooms feeding facts to dust-filled brains.”
“Prats,” scoffed Hermione.
“Don’t let Hermione fool you,” Harry added mischievously, taking advantage of the sudden distraction. “Hermione looks all proper, but she’s the worst of all three of us.”
“I am not,” declared Hermione hotly.
Holding up his hand, Harry began ticking things off on his fingers. “Let’s go by year, shall we? Most recent. You collaborated with Susan, Daphne and Li to organise a secret and illegal Defence club in clear violation of the Ministry’s decrees.”
“Yeah, you should’ve seen her go, mate,” said Ron, raising his mug of butterbeer. “She was a riot. Claimed it was more important than homework.”
Harry blinked. “Who’re you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?”
Hermione blushed. “Oh shut it you two! And she wasn’t teaching us anything. Someone had to do something.” She paused, and gave him a puzzled look.
That caught Harry off-guard for a moment.
“Don’t forget last year, mate,” added Ron. “She blackmailed Rita Skeeter.”
“Really?” asked Lavender, eyes wide.
“What do you have over that hag?” asked Parvati, with arched eyebrows.
“Uh,” said Hermione, feeling uncomfortable. “Just a little secret. I’m saving it up for when I need it.”
“Definitely suspicious,” said Ginny.
“That’s nothing compared to the next one,” said Harry. “She brewed polyjuice potion in second year to help us sneak into the Slytherin Common Room and trick Malfoy into giving us information.”
“You WHAT?” shrieked Lavender.
“I — we —” Hermione stuttered dismally.
“Definitely ballsy,” said Ginny.
“And my personal favourite,” said a grinning Harry Potter. “My first quidditch match. You set Snape on fire.”
“I thought he was trying to jinx your broom and kill you!” Hermione wailed, her face now as red as the roots of Ginny’s hair.
“We were wrong, Fred,” said George. “Hermoone’s definitely the worst one.”
Hermione palmed her face using both hands.
“Who knew the Gryffindor bookworm would be a wicked little pixie.”
“Wow, Hermione,” said Parvati. “Now we know why you’re not a Ravenclaw.”
“Gryffindor,” added Ginny sagely. “Definitely Gryffindor.”
“How did this become about me?” Hermione argued, “Harry’s the one becoming the professor!”
“What say, Hermione?” cooed Lavender. “Will you be the Defence teacher’s pet?”
Hermione blushed.
“A certain Slytherin might get angry if that happens,” said Fred.
“Yeah, she’s quite the firecracker,” added George. “Nearly hexed my bits off once.”
“When was that?” asked Ginny.
“Last year,” said Fred. “when we pulled the hair-changing prank on the Slytherins.”
“What about you, Harry?” asked Geoge, wagging his eyebrows. “Are you gonna play naughty student and teacher now?”
Harry coughed.
“Honestly, Harry, I am surprised,” said Hermione seriously. “I was astounded when Dumbledore announced your name. I thought you didn’t want anything to do with us.”
“Yeah mate,” added Ron. “I get you didn’t want to get on Umbridge’s bad side, but twas a tad harsh. Hermione was upset.”
“I wasn’t —” Hermione began.
“Oh please,” said Ron. “I copied your homework and you didn’t even yell at me. You were incredibly upset..”
Harry marvelled at how good Ron was at reading her.Ron was always careful about Hermione, making sure she ate her meals, and got enough sleep. He knew perfectly how to engage Hermione in banter to distract her from something, and exactly what to say to get her all worked up, so that she might completely forget about everything else. He wasn’t great at expressing his emotions, but that didn’t cut short his ability to empathise and understand them.
Just this summer, he had thought Ron and Hermione being together was a bad idea. Now though, he was beginning to think otherwise. Hermione was fierce and motivated and could go on a warpath when she wanted something. Someone as sedentary as Ron provided exactly the sort of inertia she needed to gain a little stability in life.
Harry frowned. He knew he had been more than a little harsh on Hermione, but it was necessary. Hermione was a stubborn witch, much like Daphne, and it required more than a little force to challenge her viewpoints.
“I didn’t say that I wanted nothing to do with you all,” he said softly. “I just said that people should try to solve their own problems without involving me.”
“Fat lot of good that did,” laughed Ron. “You ended up with the job anyway.”
Harry snorted. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I get for planning ahead.”
“So it was part of a plan,” accused Hermione, narrowing her eyes. “You set us up.”
He met her eyes. “I did.”
“The entire thing…” asked Hermione. “You facing Malfoy and his goons in Umbridge’s class, Susan approaching me… it was all a set up. Wasn’t it?”
“Some of it was.”
“I knew it,” said Hermione, looking sad and betrayed. “You’ve really changed, haven’t you, Harry? You told me off when I went to you for help, telling me to do what other muggleborns would do in my place — twiddle my thumbs and pray things change. You told me you didn’t care one bit about how things were, or how worse they became, and forced everyone else to take action, when it was you manipulating us from the beginning?”
“You’re really making me look way more impressive and diabolical than I am, Hermione.”
“Am I?” challenged Hermione. “I remember that day very well, Harry Potter. You were sitting in the front row, with Susan next to you. I thought it sounded off then, but it was a setup. You arranged for Ernie to raise the Hit-wizardry issue. You mocked Umbridge, and you egged Malfoy to attack you, just so that everyone could see how powerful Harry Potter is. And then, you sent Susan to me, and probably had Greengrass working on the same. You made a grand show of blaming Greengrass while mocking us for our request, and making us act against the Ministry. Sounds about right?”
By now every single person in the dorm room was looking at him with wide eyes.
“What’s going on, mate?” asked Ron.
“What’s going on is that our friend has gotten a taste of playing the rich guy. He thinks throwing gold at his friend’s faces is enough to maintain his friendships, while he plays with their emotions and manipulates them to get what he wants. I must say, Greengrass is training you to be a wonderful Slytherin, Harry.”
“Really, mate,” asked Fred. “Is she right?”
Harry looked at Hermione with a mix of shock, and to an extent, resignation. While he didn’t agree with Daphne’s vicious attitude towards his muggleborn friend, he knew that she had some valid points, chief among them being her perspective of seeing things in black and white. In a sense, it was worse than Ron. While Ron generally divided things in terms of Gryffindor versus Slytherin, Hermione held a more complex but equally harsh discriminatory viewpoint towards the magical world, where everything that didn’t fall in agreement with her view was necessarily dark or wrong or manipulation of some form.
Both of them painted opposite extremes, Daphne clearly holding a more magical supremacist attitude than she was admitting and Hermione who simply refused to compromise with the current state of the magical world.
But that was fine.
He did not ask for this. Not the Warlock status. Not the preferential treatment, and certainly not the Defence professorship. Even the idea of selling the basilisk was a way to help Hogwarts, and use the rest of the gold to bolster his finances for the upcoming war. The people, the students, the press — they painted him with whatever shade they felt was right, without care for his opinion. He had only borne through them all, until his back had hit the wall.
He had not started this discussion either. Nor had he made Hermione declare all this in public.
No, Hermione chose to do these things by herself, and from her looks, she was feeling extremely vindicated at being proven right.
Time to show her exactly what she had won.
“On the very first day of the term,” said Harry softly, “Dumbledore told me that Lucius Malfoy got the Board of Directors to pass Clause 159, and declare me as a danger to everyone. He even tricked half the Wizengamot into agreeing with him, and got a lot of parents writing to Fudge and the Board to get me out of Hogwarts.”
“That’s true,” said Lavender. “My grandmother told me about it.”
Of course. Lady Brown. She was a member of the Traditionalist faction, but didn't side with Malfoy’s group, Dumbledore’s faction or Joshua’s banner. An independent Neutral favouring the Light side.
Much like House Bones and Longbottom. Only Brown tended to stay in a flock of several smaller houses to pull off a reasonable amount of votes, usually bought by other factions whenever they wanted something passed. An crafty way of staying afloat, but not one Harry approved of.
“Dumbledore informed me that Umbridge was posted at Hogwarts specifically to attack me, and paint me a deranged magic-stealing murderer. He told me to stay out of her way, and that’s why, he used my Warlock position to grant me a private dorm at Hogwarts. And before you say it, Hermione, no, I didn’t ask for it either.”
Hermione let out a contemptuous snort.
“From the very first DADA class, Umbridge has tried to get a rise out of me. But I didn’t, so she went after you and Ron.”
“I remember,” muttered Ron. “Bloody bitch asked me to ask you to repeat about You-Know-Who being back.”
“It’s Voldemort,” Harry said snappishly. “And Malfoy began to make things worse. So I did what I could have done. I goaded him into getting angry, and attacking me, and making Umbridge look worse.”
He met Hermione’s eyes. “But I suppose that counts as Slytherin manipulation to you, doesn’t it, Hermione? Maybe I should’ve been the Gryffindor and boldly claimed that Voldemort was back and give that woman more reasons to fuck with my life? That would’ve been a much better idea, wouldn’t it?”
Hermione looked like he had just slapped her.
“I stayed out of the DADA class for the better part of two months, and then Susan told me how you told her about asking me to help others with DADA. You, my best friend for four goddamn years, you decided to use Susan, to tell me about it. Why, Hermione? Didn’t you know where my dorm was? Or maybe you forgot my password? I certainly remember attending at least a few classes every week with you.”
“ I — I thought you were avoiding me and Ron.”
“Was I?” asked Harry, cocking his head.
“Of course you were,” argued Hermione. “You attend Potions with Greengrass, and don’t even come for more than half the classes. Even Ron was complaining about how you attended Transfiguration once with him, and then stopped attending because he mentioned Delacour and Greengrass.”
Harry whirled at the redhead in anger. “Ron—”
“Hold your horses, mate!” said Ron, raising both hands in surrender. “I don’t have a krup in this fight. Hermione, I just told you I mentioned ‘em.”
“Semantics, Ron,” said Hermione snobbishly, crossing her arms. “Why else would he avoid coming to class right after? The professors are already giving him private classes, courtesy of being a Warlock and all that.”
The callous accusation behind her words felt like a dagger piercing his heart. “Have you perchance wondered, Hermione, if there was another possible reason why I stopped attending Transfiguration?”
At her challenging look, he raised his wand, and pointed at the pillow on one of the couches. “Change a pillow into a pincushion. One of the first things we learn in Transfiguration in our first year. Check this out.”
“Vera verto.”
A thin, greyish light shot out of his wand, and hit the pillow, which detonated with the force of a small bomb, erupting the strands of cotton all over the floor.
Everyone, including Hermione, looked taken aback.
Harry returned his wand back into the safety of its holster. “That wasn’t a spell gone wrong by the way. That’s what happens when I try any kind of object transfiguration. I told McGonagall that on my first day here, but she didn’t believe me. She saw it for herself, and turns out, the only kind of transfiguration I can do is the one I cast on myself.”
“Self-transfiguration,” murmured Parvati. “Is that why she’s giving you extra classes, Harry?”
He nodded. McGonagall had often mentioned her during her private classes. While Hermione performed admirably in every segment of Transfiguration, Parvati Patil was a natural at organic transfiguration. In fact, McGonagall had confided that she would offer the chance for Animagus training to her next year.
“It’s true,” Harry admitted. “The fight in DADA class was a setup. And why wouldn’t I? Malfoy sent a freaking bludger at Daphne while she was stuck in mid-air, frozen and in absolute agony from her… sickness. If that bludger would’ve hit her she could’ve…”
He trailed off, exhaling, and shook his head. “That ferret proved that he could go after my friends just to get a rise out of me. Daphne was first, who next? Ron? You, Hermione? Maybe Fleur? No. Malfoy needed to be taught a lesson. Same for Umbridge. And I knew that me attacking Malfoy would only make things worse, and Susan was constantly harping over my ear, asking me to help her friends with Defence, so I thought of a way to get this problem solved. If their parents could get Umbridge here, surely they could get her away, right? And guess what, it worked.”
“More than worked, mate,” said Lee. “Merlin, that woman’s a menace.”
“A menace that none of you did anything against until I pushed you into it,” said Harry, coldly.
“What do you expect us to do, Harry?” snapped Hermione. “Attack her? She’s a professor for Merlin’s sake.”
“Sirius has a saying,” said Harry, meeting her gaze. “Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. And her being a professor didn’t stop you from trying to form an illegal club, or telling everyone what I thought about it and pushing them to write to their parents either.”
That shut Hermione up.
Harry sat down on his chair, and sighed. “I didn’t ask for any of this. Not to be the Boy-Who-Lived, or the scion of some Ancient family. I certainly didn’t ask for my parents to sacrifice themselves to the dark bastard for me to live. This power that I have, that is what makes me a Warlock, it’s strange and uncontrollable and very, very dangerous. I almost killed Daphne by mistake because I wasn’t careful. Yes, I hide away in my dorm, because it’s left me crippled in half of the subjects we study. I hide away so that I can learn to control it, and make some use out of it. That’s why I attend the Workshop. That’s why McGonagall gives me extra classes. I didn’t go after the basilisk because I wanted fame. I went after it because some psychotic murderer had kidnapped my best friend’s sister. That I faced it and survived was luck. That I got the money over its sales was part of the Ministry law. I didn’t even know about it until Daphne mentioned it to me. I — I wanted to do something good with it, so I talked to Dumbledore about the way the gold could be spent. I think I managed to help a few people that way.”
“More than few, mate,” said Ron. “But Mum was annoyed. She sent us a letter telling you off.”
“Huh?”
Ginny barked out a laugh. “Mum thinks you shouldn’t have given away your wealth like that. You gave both of us five thousand galleons each, remember? And…” her features twisted into slight annoyance. “Hermione got that too. Guess she forgot that bit.”
“And you helped us too, mate,” said Fred.
“Whatever he said,” added George.
“It’s just gold,” said Harry. “Malfoy uses it to make laws to suit his benefit. I used it to make some things better for people….” he paused for a moment. “For muggleborns.”
“My father was shocked,” said Parvati, smiling. “He thought you were a fool for donating all that gold. I think he’s going to try sending another betrothal offer.”
Harry snorted. “Please tell him not to.” he paused, realising how it might have sounded. “I mean, it’s not that I’ve anything against you or your sister, it’s just —”
“Greengrass and Delacour have you whipped,” finished Parvati with a teasing grin. “I understand. But you’ve got to promise me a dance at your engagement party, or I’ll be annoyed.”
“What makes you think I’ll even invite you?”
Parvati fumed for a moment, but then she burst into laughter.
He noticed the way Hermione was looking away, her eyes glistening. She really was a prideful little thing. Normally, he would have been the first to make things alright with her, but he decided to give her some time to think things through first.
Maybe some introspection would make things better?
“Anyway,” he said, standing up. “It’s late. Gotta get things ready for the big day tomorrow. See you all.”
With a nod towards everyone else, he walked out of the portrait hole and began pacing his way back to the third floor. He knew what he was doing. Every single person knew what he had just done. And the worst part, no one could blame him.
Now only if he could think of a good enough reason for Daphne to let him stay alive and in one piece before the night was over. No doubt she was sitting in his room, impatiently waiting for him to show up so that she could interrogate him about the sudden curve ball he had thrown her way. She was definitely going to be pissed that he hadn’t told her while it was obvious that Fleur knew of it. Knowing her, she’d make it worse than the Spanish Inquisition.
....
....
....
Harry took a deep breath, still in his office. With Dolores Umbridge stubbornly holding on to her quarters, the Headmaster had commanded Hogwarts to practically sprout an extra wing for his office right next to the Defence classrooms. He knew that the students were now waiting for him in the classroom on the other side of the door, and knew it was time for him to go and shine.
Exhaling, he walked out of the office, striding forward confidently, his prim and well-ironed turquoise robes swirling around him. He had chosen the same large classroom style as Umbridge, only there were no desks or benches, and instead, you had people from all four Houses standing by the walls, leaving the central area empty for demonstration. All over the walls were paintings of himself — his winning his first snitch at the age of eleven, his casting the killing curse against Voldemort in the cemetery, and him facing the dragon. There was even a scenic painting, hand-drawn, possibly by some muggle, depicting the fall of the Dark Lord before the might of a one-year-old baby, with the words BOY-WHO-LIVED written beneath it in golden embossed letters. Harry looked at his table and found several books stacked on it, all of them boasting grand titles citing his accomplishments.
He strode up to the empty area, and pointed at a portrait of himself which was winking.
“Me, Harry Potter,” he declared. “Boy-Who-Lived. Winner of the Order of Merlin, First Class. Defeater of the deranged Dark Lord Voldemort when I was just a year-old. Winner of the Triwizard Tournament. Accomplished Warlock and Lord of Potter, Heir of Black and future Regent of Greengrass. The only known magical animagus in recent history, and eleven times winner of Hogwarts Quidditch matches, but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t defeat the noseless Dark Lord by catching a snitch under his nose.”
He laughed, and most of the students joined in.
“I see you’ve bought a complete set of works dedicated to me, well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about….”
He trailed off as he saw Daphne Greengrass leave her place and slowly stride up to him, clenching a copy of Harry Potter and the Erkstag Manticore tightly in her hand.
“ — just to check how well you’ve taken in —”
SMACK!
….
….
….
Harry woke up slowly, questioning Daphne’s weird reaction in his head, and realised it was all a stupid dream. Grumbling, he pulled Fleur closer and burrowed into her warm side, the scent of wildflowers hitting his nostrils. She was always a deep sleeper, something he knew better than to tease her with, but she must really have been out of it.
As he sleepily opened his eyes to see what was wrong, he found himself looking at a familiar mop of hair that definitely wasn’t Fleur. The shade was all wrong. And come to think of it, she wasn’t there last night, and he had taken the opportunity to hit the bed early.
Then who was he holding?
Draped all over him, with her head resting on his chest, was Daphne Greengrass. One of her long legs was wrapped around his own, while one of her hands lay right on his chest, as she lay on top of him. As his brain fully engaged he realised that he was in his room, and frantically, he searched for the memories of last night, but for the love of Merlin, couldn’t remember anything that could’ve even remotely explained how Daphne had ended up sleeping on his chest. And that was beside the other great worry that popped up in his head. They hadn’t…. Had they?
His hands went down to his own bare chest and…. Shit! He wasn’t wearing his nightshirt. He felt Daphne’s bare skin, and slowly drifted further up her back, and found the lacy fabric of her bra underneath his fingers. Exhaling, he slowly slid his fingers downward, wanting to check the second and more vital zone. Further and further he travelled down, and with no little elation, felt her warm skin vanish as his fingers dipped beneath the thicker, cotton fabric of her skirt.
“Any further down and I’ll have Dad expedite our engagement, Potter.” Daphne’s low sultry voice broke the silence.
“Did we…?”
Daphne giggled, and lifted her face up, propping her chin against his chest, meeting his eyes. “No, Harry. We didn’t have sex. Though, you are a pretty comfortable pillow.”
Harry almost blurted out how Fleur thought the same, but his instincts snapped his mouth shut before he could’ve committed that faux pas.
“Uh, how are you in my— you know, my bed?”
“Is that the question you ask a pretty girl lying on your chest after waking up?”
“Well,” he said slowly. “It does, when the pretty girl is your fiance you didn’t see coming in last night.”
“That’s right, you didn’t,” she said, and pushed against him, kissing him softly in the lips. “I saw you getting dragged by your Gryffindor fan club and knew it would be some time before you returned. Guess I miscalculated the time and ended up coming late. For the record, you sleep like a log.”
Harry decided not to tell her that it was because of the modified sleeping draught. Having a nocturnal animagus form made it almost impossible to sleep at night. He really needed to get his shit together quickly.
He had added both Daphne and Fleur to the wards he had in his private dorm. It helped him from having to check every single time either of them decided to drop in without intimation.
“And you decided to not go back to your room?”
Daphne arched an eyebrow with more grace than he had in his entire body.
“Sorry… stupid question.”
She kissed him softly again. “You’ll do. Yes, I saw my fiance asleep on his bed and decided he looked like he could do with having someone to cuddle with. I didn’t want to go through the hassle of summoning my nightdress or transfiguring my clothes, so I had to make do with this.”
“And it has nothing to do with me getting the professor job?”
“Oh yes, it has,” said Daphne, yawning. “It felt like too much hard work to go back to the dungeons, get up early, and come back to meet you before you get started with your classes, and for all I knew, you would be all busy.”
“Sorry,” he said. “Things happened a little too fast, and —”
He paused, with Daphne placing a finger on his lips.
“You do not need my permission to make your choices, Harry,” she said softly. “I’m your fiance, and in another month, your wife. It’s my job to support you, not make your choices for you.”
“You know I’ll always acknowledge what you have to say.”
“I do,” she said with a smile. “And while I’d have liked to know about this before everyone else, I understand if the Headmaster wanted to engage in a little bit of showmanship. It was a surprise, if a little unexpected.”
“Manipulative old man,” Harry growled. “I swear he’s worse than the Weasley twins.”
Daphne giggled. “What does Mr. Black think of this? You did tell him, right?”
“Eh, yes. I left Hogwarts last night with Professor Dumbledore, and went home. Sirius spat out his drink when I gave him the news. He was a little afraid at first, but Dumbledore explained to him how it’s gonna be safe for me for once.”
“How does he know that?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Well, because of my powers. Remember when I told you I was attacked during the summer? Well, one of the curses that hit me was the Transmogrifian Torture, which —”
“Turns blood into poison,” Daphne whispered. “Who — who was it? And how are you —”
“Don’t know. Could be any three of them. I didn’t even realise I had been struck until Fleur performed a forensic detection on me. Turns out it protects me from almost all esoteric curses. Professor Dumbledore thinks —”
“So that’s why you’re immune to the killing curse,” Daphne murmured.
“Uh, yeah. Seems so. Dumbledore thinks that the DADA curse would not work on me for the exact same reason. We want to see how it reacts and if there is a spike in its activity. Then maybe Bill and the others can locate its origin and destroy it.”
She bit her lip. “It’s a good plan, but I don’t like it that they’re using you as bait.”
For all her devil-may-care attitude, Daphne was more of a schemer than a risk-taker. She’d rather have others expose their sides while she reaped the benefits.
Sadly, that wasn’t an option.
“Can’t be helped,” he said, sighing, trying to placate her. “The students rose up to mutiny against the Ministry and demanded the right to learn how to defend themselves. This curse stands in their way.”
“And it’s somehow your job to counter it?” she snapped. “Why?”
“Because no one else can do it. That’s why.”
“That’s a gambit they are taking with your life. Not theirs.”
He held her arms. “Daphne, there’s no helping it. I’m the best person to serve as bait. And mind you, the curse affects my education just as much as it does to every other student. When Voldemort reveals himself in public, the entire country will go crazy. The students need someone to teach them to learn how to defend themselves, or the war is already lost. And besides, if this works, we will definitely know for certain that Death can definitely counter long-lasting esoteric curses, which means it will work against your malediction.”
It was an argument rooted in logic that had little to do with his penchant to save others.
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better somehow?” she demanded, glaring at him as she got off his chest.
“Daphne —”
“I don’t want to live without you! ” said Daphne suddenly. Her voice was quiet, but there was a rawness to it, a vulnerability that made him look up. She did not meet his eyes.
“Daphne!”
Harry regarded his fiance, who for the second time in all the time he had known her, looked like a glass figurine. Frail and about to shatter with just the slightest touch.
“I — You have no idea how much you mean to me. For all my life, I’ve been under the curse. It’s hung over me like a sword. I tried to make my peace with it..” Her voice cracked. “ Even if you can save me I don’t want you to. Not at my expense. Seeing you do this, seeing you make dangerous choices for me every single time, it — it hurts. It makes me feel like I’m the one that’s destroying your life and mmmppphhh!”
Harry didn’t let her finish. Instead he pulled her against him, and rolled over, with him lying on top. His green eyes staring into her blue orbs, he kissed her firmly, willing himself to take away her fears, her insecurities, her deepest, darkest nightmares that made her worry about him. She sobbed and tried to get off, but he continued kissing her, until she finally gave in.
After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back and stared at her smouldering eyes.
“I am doing this for you, Daphne Greengrass, and I will keep doing this for you. Not because I fear you’ll blame me, or because I’ll lose to the blood curse. Because I won’t. “
Part of him remembered that he needed to get up and get ready for his first class. He really needed to get off the bed right now, or else he’d be handing more ammunition to Umbridge.
But there was no force on Earth that could make him leave Daphne at that moment.
