Harry was waiting by the Black Lake, the breeze rippling across the dark surface as the reflection of the castle shimmered faintly. It wasn't surprising that Daphne had sent him a letter after their canceled trip to Hogsmeade, but it was surprising that she had still decided to have their date regardless of the situation.
In a world fraught with tension and fear, with the whispers of Voldemort's return a thick, suffocating cloud over every corridor, she had still chosen this. Really, he was expecting a change in time, not this.
It seems a little crazy. She was not a Gryffindor, she was a Slytherin, and a purer definition of one he hadn't seen since in most of the others of her house, Her disregard for the opinions of others, her clear and unwavering focus on what she wanted, and her willingness to seize an opportunity regardless of what others might think spoke volumes about her.
It was a refreshing contrast to the drama of her fellow housemates and their constant need to make enemies regardless of the situation.
He was waiting for her.
He glanced up just in time to see her approaching from the castle's main gates.
Harry's breath caught. She wasn't in her typical house robes, but dressed in casual wear that made him look twice, and then a third time. She wore a simple white-and-grey sweater shirt, its soft fabric clinging just enough to hint at the shape beneath, paired with tight, low-slung blue trousers that hugged her hips, then fell in a baggy, effortless drape that put that wonderful ass on display.
It was understated, not flashy, but on her, with her usual cool composure, it was striking. Too striking. He almost wondered if she realized what it meant, walking through the castle dressed like this. The Ice Queen of Slytherin stepping out of her Usual attire and into normal clothes.
He couldn't help but notice the way heads turned as she passed, whispers following in her wake like a shadow. He didn't think anyone would dare approach her, most guys had long since learnt that when the Ice Queen says no, she means no. Just ask Jordan, who had pushed and gotten his little Jordan frozen and nearly frostbitten.
Merlin, he thought, a familiar smirk playing on his lips, watching her. Did… did she wear that and walk all the way from her dorm here? It wasn't that the outfit was that outrageous or anything, not by Muggle standards, but it was who was wearing it.
The Ice Queen of Slytherin had dressed like that, and that alone would have caught the attention of anyone and everyone in the castle. They hadn't really been hiding their interest in each other, at least, he hadn't, but he had thought that she wanted to keep it quiet from her housemates, given it was dangerous for her to be associated with him, especially at this moment, when the "reveal" of Voldemort was going around.
Yes, he might be dead, but only Harry knew that. To the world, that madman was still alive, and the other Death Eaters were excited and waiting for their master to make his move.
'Well, that's too bad for them,' Harry thought with a private, internal sigh of amusement. The war was over for him, not for them. Sadly, He couldn't go around getting rid of all of them, they were just too many bastards like those, but he had already removed most of the top, hell, maybe even all, he wasn't sure.
The infamous, the well-known, the powerful, and the influential had already fallen victim to his plan. Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and the rest of the inner circle had met their end in the Ministry by his hand, though the world believed a different story.
He had made sure to get rid of a few famous and well-known Death Eaters and 'suspected' ones, too. Really now, the only person he had left to take care of was the old man, and Harry would soon remove him.
But all in all, Harry's war was already over, but he was going to make Britain squirm for a little bit, for all the pain and suffering it had caused him.
He turned his attention back to Daphne. She was already in front of him, and she looked even more breathtaking closer. Was it because she didn't normally wear this type of clothes that it looked so lovely on her? He shook his head as he greeted her with a wide smile, took her in. She gave a small smile too, before he led her toward the small picnic blanket he'd spread by the lakeside, and they sat down.
"I was surprised," Harry admitted as they settled, the scent of fresh cut grass and damp earth filling his senses. He gestured to the simple spread of food, the chocolate-covered strawberries, the sandwiches he'd packed, and a thermos of warm butterbeer. "I figured with everything going on, you'd want to be with your family, or at least in the common room."
She huffed a small sound of amusement, her eyes already drawn to the strawberries. "Well, with everything that has been going on lately, I had a feeling that if I postponed it, we might never have the opportunity." She took a berry, her fingers delicate as she dipped it in the melted chocolate.
He let out a little laugh under his breath. "With how things are going, you might be right. But still, aren't you worried?" he said, a genuine question. She tilted her head at him, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "I mean, Slytherin and Gryffindor don't exactly have the best history, after all," he clarified. "And then there's the Dark Lord. It's no big secret that he's after me. Being seen with me isn't exactly safe."
Daphne just waved him off, her eyes on the tray of strawberries. She picked one delicately, putting it in her mouth, her expression softening as the sweetness hit her tongue. Once she had swallowed, she turned to him, her ice-like eyes meeting his, a faint smirk touching her lips. "I don't really care much about the Slytherins," she said simply. "Most of them are petty children pretending to be more important than they are. They spend their time playing around like it's a ministry court. It's… pathetic. Children, all of them. Some, of course, are being forced to grow up faster than they'd like, but that's their problem."
Harry didn't need to guess who she meant. Draco had changed over these past few days. When the news of his father's body being one of those in the Ministry was released, the boy had outright burst out crying right there in the Great Hall.
He was a sobbing mess, and his goons had to take him back to the dorms. He wasn't alone, of course. There were others whose parents and relatives had been found dead after the Ministry attack, their faces pale and their composure shattered.
Their world was shattered. They had been told that the Dark Lord was a benevolent force, a purveyor of pureblood strength, and now he had killed their own, butchered them like cattle for his own amusement. It was confusing.
"As for my family," Daphne went on, her tone firmer, her voice a low purr. "We've never supported the Dark Lord. Our decision to stay neutral had already marked the Greengrasses as enemies in his eyes. He had demanded that we choose, so we chose to stay neutral. Whatever trouble comes of this, it won't change much. We've already been in his crosshairs since the first war."
She took a deep breath and continued. "The Greengrasses are survivors, Harry. We bend but we don't break. We make our alliances. And we choose our friends wisely."
Harry arched a brow. "So, am I one of these alliances, or are you just after my body" he asked with a wry tone. He was playing with her, she knew, but he was also genuinely curious. She shook her head to answer.
Daphne only smirked, reaching for one of the sandwiches he'd packed. She took a bite, her eyes widening slightly before they lit up with approval. "This is… good," she said, her voice filled with genuine surprise.
Harry grinned. "Thanks. I made it myself."
"Wow, you made this," she was surprised.
"Is that supposed to be an insult?" he asked with exaggerated offense, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
That earned him a laugh, an actual laugh, a light, musical giggle like the chime of small bells in the breeze. It startled him, the sound so genuine and carefree. He realized then that she didn't laugh often in all the times he had seen her, not the real kind. Something about it warmed him far more than he expected. He let out a small laugh too, a genuine one this time.
"Well, if you're sure, then let's leave those for now," he said, since she didn't seem to mind the problem, and then he would respond in kind. "So how have you been?" he asked a little awkwardly. He really didn't know how to change subjects like that. She let out a laugh, seeming to sense his awkwardness. "Good. This is… a nice distraction."
After that, they seemed to take their time talking. Harry learned more about her, and she learned about him. She spoke of her ambitions, how she had once dreamed of becoming an enchanter, fascinated by runes and ancient languages, seeing magic not just as a force to be wielded but as a beautiful, complex language to be understood.
But something had changed, and she had decided to become a healer. She didn't tell him the reason, her gaze drifting away at the question, a shadow passing over her eyes, but Harry didn't press.
Instead, he listened, and when she spoke of her younger sister Astoria, the fond smile that tugged at Daphne's lips was enough to tell him volumes about the bond they shared. She spoke about her a lot, and while she sometimes spoke about how she was annoying and distracting, Daphne always had a smile on her face as she spoke about her sister.
In return, Harry shared pieces of his past. The truth of his childhood with the Dursleys, how he hadn't even known magic existed until his letter arrived at age eleven. It startled her. She admitted that Slytherin circles had whispered a very different story, that he had been personally trained and groomed by Dumbledore, a secret weapon.
The reality, not even knowing that he had magic, was a shock, he was essentially a muggleborn. It was somehow good to know the truth about him and not just rumors, and Harry found it oddly satisfying to dispel yet another layer of the lies Dumbledore had spun around his life. She asked about the first year about the rumors of what happened to Quirrell, and he told her.
He talked about his first year, the philosopher's stone, and Quirrell. He asked about why she wanted to be a medic when she clearly had a passion for runes, but she just didn't answer, and he decided to wait until she was ready to tell him.
Hours slipped by without either of them noticing. The sun lowered, painting the lake with hues of gold and red. The air grew cooler, and a soft, comfortable silence fell between them as they simply sat, side-by-side, watching the water. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore was a soothing sound, a natural lullaby that was far more pleasant than the constant whispers and rumors that filled the castle.
At last, Daphne rose, brushing off her trousers. "I should go before curfew."
Harry stood as well, offering her his hand. She accepted it, and for a brief moment their fingers lingered together, the contact warm and grounding. "This was nice," he said honestly.
"Yes," she agreed, her tone softer than usual. "Hopefully, the next time will be outside Hogwarts."
They looked at each other, silence stretching between them, something unspoken hanging in the air. Then, with a suddenness that made his heart stutter, Daphne leaned in and kissed him. Just a brush of lips, quick and delicate, before she pulled away, her cheeks faintly flushed.
She fixed her hair, muttered a hasty "Goodbye," and all but hurried away, leaving Harry just standing there, watching her retreating figure.
Slowly, a smile grew on his face. He was in trouble, he thought to himself, a warm, giddy feeling in his chest.
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