Chapter 18: Information and Inference
Instructions are on the board." Snape said curtly, remaining as reserved as any of the students had seen in their time at Hogwarts. "Remain silent."
The current Potions class was deathly quiet as Umbridge, in her new capacity as High Inquisitor, was overseeing Snape's conduct due to his probationary status put in place by the board of governors after the article in the Daily Prophet. It had ensured that everybody was a little apprehensive because of the abrupt change in routine, and the muggleborns and half-bloods that hadn't been privy to some of the more detailed savagery of the Death Eaters had heard about a great deal through the rumour mill when Snape was dragged through the mud publicly.
Had Harry been experiencing this class and situation with the mindset he had back when he was 15, he didn't doubt at all that he would have relished at the sight of Snape acting like a leashed dog. It made the class less annoying, and Neville wasn't as much of a bundle of nerves as he had been usually.
But with that being said, he was also in a mercurial temper at himself for forgetting an obvious thing, which he had little excuse for. Bole got killed by Devil's Snare in Saint Mungo's in the middle of the night, and Harry never thought of it because, thanks to his machinations, Arthur wasn't attacked. But it happened so long ago he genuinely mixed up dates, Merlin, three years going on four years ago to him.
So as it was now, he would just hunker down and get through his classes like the chore they were now and continue to sharpen himself back to what he was and drag his friends along for the ride.
With that mentality, the class ended rather quickly and the joint Gryffindor/Slytherin class was dismissed by a comparatively pleasant Snape. Harry hurriedly put away his supplies and other things, clasping his bag shut and hoisting it onto his shoulder so he could leave.
He was one of the first to exit the room and turned, ascending up the steps to the next floor and waited for Hermione and Ron to join him. He needed to discuss what to do about Hagrid, and the two of them had input he needed before handling the situation.
His first friend in the Wizarding World was certain to be targeted by the bitch, and he would need to figure out a way to prevent the man from being targeted. Might even prevent aurors from being stationed that would attack McGonagall.
Harry ignored pretty much everyone that walked out, save for the polite nod of acknowledgement to Neville, Tracey, the wink he gave Daphne, and the completely blank look he gave Nott that concealed the inner thoughts of the green eyed teen.
He was going to behead him again.
Once that thought streaked through his mind like the glacial touch of Death itself, he reoriented himself back to socially acceptable thoughts and saw his two oldest friends cycle out of the classroom and he gestured towards Ron to walk beside him.
Ron leaned and muttered into Hermione's ear, presumably to inform her of that, and the two followed him up to the next floor and through the corridor to make their way to the Great Hall for lunch.
"Everything alright, mate?" Ron asked, picking up the mood rather well. "You look annoyed."
"I've made the observation that I may need to bribe Umbridge to prevent her from giving Hagrid the same grief she's giving Snape." Harry replied to the gangly redhead, making sure to keep his voice low so others couldn't eavesdrop as they continued their short journey.
"Professor Snape, Harry." Hermione added on, but there wasn't the same weight behind it as usual. "I know he is biase-"
"Members of terrorist groups that want one of my best friends dead for the crime of existing aren't professors, Hermione." Harry reminded her. He understood her desire for authority, honestly. But there was only so much respect he was mentally capable of providing to Snape or anyone that joined the organization that killed his family... both times. Snape in particular was a spiteful and all-around unpleasant man, albeit an intelligent and gifted one, that became a terrorist because his childhood friend didn't want to fuck him after getting called a slur in public.
Harry normally wouldn't think of such a crass subject and his mother in the same sentence, but he wasn't in the best of moods at that moment.
Hermione frowned and didn't say anything the rest of the way to the Great Hall, but Harry could tell it wasn't from her being upset at him. Her expression was more so that of deep thought than vexation.
The trio walked in silence, the only sound being the echo of their footsteps in the stone corridor. Ron exchanged a puzzled glance with Harry, the normally oblivious redhead also noticing there was something that occupied Hermione's mind. As they approached the Great Hall, the aroma of food filled the air, but Hermione's thoughtful demeanor persisted, leaving an unspoken curiosity lingering between the friends.
As usual, once Harry rounded the corner with Ron and Hermione, he saw the Great Hall was packed with students, the usual chaos of a Hogwarts lunch in full swing. Conversations and cutlery scraping lightly blended together, creating a background hum. Long tables were piled high with all sorts of magical food.
As he sat down with the two at the Gryffindor table, the clatter of cutlery and the occasional shout from another table filled the air. As was typical, the atmosphere was more cafeteria than elegant feast. Despite the noisy surroundings, Ron started speaking.
"You know, Harry, it's a shame you're not playing Quidditch this year."
"Ron." Hermione was pulled from whatever internal discussion she was having with herself and scolded him. "Harry already explained why he isn't playing quidditch this year and hardly goes to matches."
If Harry were to be honest, it was a lot harder for him to give up quidditch than he had expected. He didn't just forgo actually competing for Gryffindor House, he also couldn't bring himself to attend most of the matches except for one or two of them to give Ron a confidence boost. Anytime he had thought about doing it, he'd be reminded of the fact that he wasn't at the same threat level he was when he had been technically killed and needed to train more in the Room of Requirement.
Harry chuckled like his thoughts weren't somewhat cynical and speared a roasted potato with his fork. "It's fine, Hermione. And yeah, I needed the break for what's ahead. But Ginny's doing a brilliant job as the seeker, don't you think?"
Ron nodded, a hint of a proud smile on his face at his younger sister's excellent showings. "True, she's got the talent. Still, I wouldn't mind seeing you back on the pitch next year. It's just not the same without hearing Lee shouting 'Potter's got the Snitch!'."
Harry snorted, continuing his lunch and occasionally responding to Ron as he talked about a few things relating to the upcoming quidditch match and other things related to the sport.
As Ron continued discussing Quidditch, Harry's attention shifted momentarily toward the Slytherin table. Catching Daphne's eye, she discreetly gestured toward him, indicating that they needed to talk after lunch. Harry raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment, wondering about the reason for her request, but he kept the exchange private, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention. Returning to the conversation with Ron, he made a mental note about talking with Daphne right after he finished eating.
Actually, I should have a protean charm put on a coin like Hermione did and use that to signal when we need to talk.
Speaking of Hermione, the bookworm's thoughtful expression finally gave way to an actual statement as she delicately cleared her throat. "You know, Harry, I've been meaning to say something. Lately, you've been quite single-minded in learning aggressive magic, and I… You explained why, but do you really need to overdo it?"
Ron, good friend that was trying to be, gave Hermione a look. He swallowed his food before speaking.
"Hermione, those Death Eaters want all of us dead. My family are blood traitors, you're muggleborn, and Harry is, well, Harry. And it's not dark magic, so what's the problem?"
Hermione got the message and dropped the subject, not saying anything else about it. Ron just simply changed topics and began talking about quidditch once again, which Harry was more than happy to discuss or listen to, and his gaze wandered across the Great Hall. His eyes landed on the Slytherin table again, where Daphne was still sitting and trying to act like she wasn't trying to get his attention. He caught her eye again, and she gave him a subtle, almost imperceptible head gesture once more. A signal. She needed to talk talk..
Harry frowned slightly, wondering what could be so important. He didn't have the slightest clue why she'd signaled him. But he knew it couldn't be good if she was reaching out like this.
Turning back to his friends, he cleared his throat. "I need to speak with Daphne after lunch." He muttered under his breath.
Ron raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, though his expression said enough. Hermione, meanwhile, looked thoughtful, but neither of them pressed him for details.
The rest of lunch passed quickly, and once they were done, Harry stood up. "I'll catch up with you later," he said to Ron and Hermione, who both nodded in acknowledgment.
He made his way through the crowd, stepping out of the Great Hall and heading for one of the unused classrooms where he and Daphne had met in secret before. As he entered, the door clicked shut behind him, and the familiar quiet of the empty room surrounded him. Now, all that was left was to wait for Daphne to arrive and find out what exactly was going on that needed his attention.
Harry leaned against one of the desks in the empty classroom, arms crossed as he stared at the door. The silence of the room made every minute feel longer, and he found himself running through possibilities in his mind. Why had Daphne signaled him? What could be going on that was worth pulling him aside?
The minutes stretched on, but finally, the door creaked open, and Daphne slipped inside. Her usual cool composure was intact, but there was a sharpness in her eyes as she closed the door behind her.
"Harry," she greeted him curtly, wasting no time with pleasantries. "We need to talk."
Harry straightened, already bracing himself for bad news. "What's going on?"
Daphne took a breath and cut straight to the heart of the matter. "A number of the better-connected Slytherins, those with family ties and influence, you know most of them, have decided to side with Umbridge. They're offering her whatever help she needs, and it's already started to take effect."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean, offering her help?"
"Information. Monitoring other students in the event of Dumbledore trying something. Slytherins are well-placed in the social circles of the school, and Umbridge will use that to her advantage. O'Cleirigh is one of the upper years along with Warrington and Bletchley that are ingratiating themselves with her."
The first name hit Harry with a hint of negative recollection. O'Cleirigh. He remembered him, well, the future him, at least. A former student, now a Hit Wizard, and an annoyingly persistent one at that. In the future, O'Cleirigh had been known for being an abuser of the rules and almost gleeful in using his position to make life difficult for those under investigation. He'd crossed paths with Harry more than once during his time as an Auror, and Harry had never liked him.
"O'Cleirigh?" Harry muttered, his frown deepening. "That prat's helping Umbridge?"
Daphne nodded. "He's ambitious and right now wants to do more to cement any influence he can gain."
Harry let out a frustrated sigh, the reality of the situation settling in a little deeper. "Brilliant."
"But that's not all," Daphne continued, her expression hardening. "Malfoy's acting… strange."
Harry's eyebrows rose at that. "Strange how?"
"He's being more assertive," Daphne explained, folding her arms as she leaned against the desk opposite Harry. "He's speaking up more in the common room, challenging others the upper years and taking a more active role. But he's not throwing his father's name around like he usually does. It's... odd. He's always relied on his father's influence to back him up, but now it's like he's trying to stand on his own."
Harry processed that for a moment, a mixture of curiosity and suspicion bubbling in his chest. Malfoy had always been predictable in his arrogance, always quick to remind everyone of Lucius Malfoy's power and standing within the Ministry. If he was acting differently, it meant something had shifted.
"Any idea why?" Harry asked, his mind running through ideas. If Malfoy was changing his behavior, it couldn't be for nothing.
"None," Daphne said. "But whatever's going on with him, it's different from the rest of us. Everyone else is trying to cozy up to Umbridge, but Malfoy's distancing himself. Not openly, but it's there."
Harry's mind whirled with the implications. Slytherins siding with Umbridge was one problem that was easily predicted since they did it last time, but Malfoy acting strangely—that could either be an opportunity or a threat. He needed to figure out which, and preferably soon.
"Alright," Harry said finally, meeting Daphne's gaze. "Keep an eye on Malfoy. And thanks for the heads-up about the rest of them."
"Not a problem." She shrugged, though the air of no nonsense attitude was more of a habit than an intentional one. He could easily see through it and they both knew it, and he could tell she was going to ask something just by how she shifted her feet combined with the slight tending of her lower lip. "But, um, how do I put this? We need a better way to communicate than signalling and staggering us leaving tables. And Dobby would draw attention."
Harry couldn't help himself and chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I was going to actually mention something about that, funnily enough." He said in response to the look of confusion on the blonde's face. "Ever heard of a Protean charm?"
"Of course I ha-" Daphne started to say, before freezing and her face flushed slightly as she realized she, in fact, did not recall or know it in the slightest. "I…, well, yes?"
Harry just gave her a knowing look. "I'll assume you remember all the details about how said charm links objects together and can be used for communication if one were to charm a rotating set of numbers onto, say, a galleon perhaps."
"Yes, of course." Daphne nodded at that, grateful for the convenient ignoring of her lack of knowing the charm. "Would you be able to do that and deliver a galleon to me next time we meet?"
"Aye, shouldn't be too pressing of a task." Harry replied easily. He then paused for a moment, glancing at the doorway where the doors had been charmed shut.
"So," Harry started to say, raising a brow as he turned back to face Daphne, "Any more pressing business or do we meet again later?"
Daphne didn't leave immediately, much to his relief, and approached him until she was within arm's reach of him. With an expectant look, she stopped right in front of him and he took a single step forward. He cupped her cheek and she was almost immediately like putty in his hands, leaning into his touch as he gently brushed her cheek with his thumb.
"I want to meet again tonight." She murmured, "Where would be a good place?"
"For secrecy, the Chamber." Harry replied, snaking his hand forward and tucking a golden lock of hair behind her ear as she had decided to have it untied today. "But I don't think you want just a snog somewhere. Dinner in the Room of Requirement sounds lovely, don't you think?"
"Hmmm," Daphne smiled, looking up at him slightly and her eyes sparkling happily, "That sounds acceptable."
Right as she said that, Harry leaned in and pressed a quick kiss upon her lips, surprising her slightly.
"Was that acceptable?" He asked with a grin.
Daphne returned a grin of her own. "Nope."
The second one was indeed acceptable.
(LINE BREAK)
The day had once again smeared together in a blur as Harry had put an extreme effort into refraining once again from thinking about how easy it was to get away with killing Nott and Umbridge, the former being completely oblivious to arguably the second most dangerous wizard in the castle already having planned his violent and brutal death. The latter though had a layer of protection over her safety, at least for now.
"Professor Umbridge, if I may have a moment." Harry said after having gone up to her desk after class had been dismissed and the other students cycled out.
The toad faced ministry plant was wearing her favorite pink cardigan, the gawdy rings, and had her typical air of false sweetness save for the brief look of surprise that she failed to conceal, but there was no appearance of annoyance.
"You may." She replied sweetly, making Harry scowl internally at the falseness of it.
Harry remained standing and got right to the point.
"I know about your dislike for Hagrid and more importantly why." He stressed the last part and peered over the top rim of his glasses. "As he is one of my close friends, I don't want him involved in the spat between Dumbledore and the Ministry."
Umbridge frowned.
"That's it, Mr Potter?"
"Yes, for the time being." He replied pleasantly. "I don't give a damn what happens with Dumbledore as several of his mistakes have nearly gotten me killed and the latest situation is not one I wish to be dragged back into. Keep me and my friends out of your conflict with Dumbledore and there will continue to be no problem."
Umbridge's eyes narrowed, before she exhaled after a long moment and tapped her nails against the desk once, then twice.
"I see no reason to jeopardize our common ground over a half giant, so I will let him be. But I will have order, Mr Potter. Do I make myself understood?"
"With crystal clarity, Professor." Harry replied, hiding the viciousness he felt for this thing behind a wall of ice cold focus that had required cultivation. "Now I must get going. Have a good day." He then turned on his heel and left, adjusting the shoulder strap for his bag to shift the weight and he pushed the classroom door open to enter the hallway. His footsteps echoed down the hall and the sound of the door closing behind too.
As Harry strode down the corridor, his mind still churned with the conversation he'd just had. The sickly sweet cadence of Umbridge's voice grated on him even in memory, but for now, she had given him what he wanted. He'd take that as a temporary win.
The corridors were mostly empty, save for the occasional student hurrying off to their next class or a lone ghost drifting along in silent contemplation. His fingers brushed against his pocket, and he slipped into an empty classroom without hesitation, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.
Reaching into his robes, he pulled out the Marauder's Map, flicked it open, and tapped his wand against the parchment.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Ink bled across the aged surface, forming the intricate web of Hogwarts' halls and staircases. His eyes scanned over the dots, quickly finding the names Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis still together with nobody else nearby. A faint sigh of relief escaped him. Good. She was safe, occupied.
With a final glance, he tapped the map once more.
"Mischief managed."
The ink vanished, leaving the parchment blank once more. He folded it up and tucked it away before stepping back into the corridor, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. Whatever came next, he had time to plan.
(LINE BREAK)
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Hogwarts grounds as Harry made his way toward Hagrid's hut, the castle's towering silhouette at his back. His invisibility cloak, carefully folded, was stuffed inside his robes and kept as a precaution, just in case. He debated, briefly, whether he should have asked Hermione and Ron to join him. It would have been the natural thing to do. But then he thought about the evening ahead, about Daphne, and decided against it. His friends didn't know yet, and he wasn't ready for that particular conversation. Not yet.
The crisp autumn air carried the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke as he crossed the sloping grounds. Hagrid's hut stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, smoke curling lazily from the chimney. Fang's deep, resounding barks reached him even before he knocked. A few moments later, the heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing Hagrid's bearded face, his beetle-black eyes lighting up in surprise.
"Harry! Didn't expect yeh. C'mon in."
Harry couldn't help but wince as he saw a new set of injuries faintly visible underneath the half giant's beard, purple and blue bruising under the skin across his cheek.
Nonetheless, Harry stepped inside, letting the warmth of the fire chase away the lingering chill from outside. Fang immediately pressed his massive head against his side, drooling on Harry's robes, but he absently scratched behind the boarhound's ears as Hagrid busied himself with the kettle.
"Was wonderin' when I'd see yeh," Hagrid said, setting two mismatched mugs on the table. "Figured Umbridge had yeh all tied up in her nonsense."
Harry settled into a chair, exhaling slowly. "Yeah, well, she's definitely trying. But I had a chat with her today, and is why I came today."
Hagrid shot him a wary glance. "A chat, eh?"
Harry smirked. "More like an agreement. I told her to leave you out of the mess between Dumbledore and the Ministry."
Hagrid's brows furrowed. "That so?"
"She agreed," Harry said, watching Hagrid closely. "For now."
Hagrid was silent for a long moment, his fingers drumming against the table as a deep frown settled over his face.
"I dunno, Harry," he muttered, shaking his head. "I worry 'bout yeh gettin' on the wrong side of her. She ain't got a good bone in her body. Bad through and through, she is."
Harry exhaled, setting his mug down. "I know," he admitted. "But you're my oldest friend, Hagrid. And I protect my friends."
Hagrid's eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he just stared at Harry, his face softening. Then, his massive shoulders sagged, and he sniffed, rubbing a hand over his bearded face. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion.
"Yer so much like yer mum an' dad," he murmured, his eyes misty. "They'd be proud of yeh, Harry. I know they would."
Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat, managing a small, grateful smile. He didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded, letting the warmth of the moment settle between them.
The conversation drifted into easier topics after that, small talk about lessons, the latest antics of the Weasley twins, and a few updates on Hagrid's various creatures. Harry sipped his tea as Hagrid rambled fondly about his latest attempts to train a particularly stubborn Thestral, nodding along and occasionally chiming in. The warmth of the hut, the crackling fire, and Fang's contented snores made it easy to lose track of time.
After about an hour, Harry flicked his wand subtly and murmured, "Tempus." The glowing numbers hovered in the air for a moment—he needed to get going.
"Didn't realize it was getting so late," he said, setting his mug down. "I should head back."
Hagrid gave a final sniff, wiping at his eyes as if he hadn't just been getting emotional. "Alright, Harry. Yeh take care now, yeah?"
Harry nodded. "You too, Hagrid."
With that, he stepped out into the cool evening air, pulling his robes a little tighter around himself as he made his way back up to the castle. His pace was steady but purposeful—he had somewhere to be. The Room of Requirement was waiting.
(LINE BREAK)
Daphne stood in front of the tall, ornate mirror in the 5th Year Slytherin girls' dormitory, smoothing down the front of her robes with practiced ease. Her reflection stared back at her, composed as ever, but she still ran her fingers lightly through her hair, making sure everything was in place. It wasn't vanity, not exactly. Just… preparation.
Tracey, lounging on her bed with a book open in her lap, arched an eyebrow at her. "You're putting way too much effort into this for a talk," she remarked, flipping a page without looking up.
Daphne didn't pause, adjusting her sleeves. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Tracey snorted. "Right. Because you always check your hair twice before sneaking out."
Daphne gave her a flat look through the mirror. "I don't sneak anywhere, Tracey."
"Mm-hmm." Tracey smirked but didn't push further, returning her attention to her book. "Do be a bit careful though, Theo is acting odd lately and might notice something."
Daphne had noticed, and it didn't fail to put her on edge. Malfoy was acting strange, things in general were strange, and Nott had been eyeing everyone, particularly her, more carefully. Merlin help her if he had caught feelings for her over the holiday, the very thought made her want to curl up and melt into the earth.
She was just being overly paranoid and stupid, so she pushed that horrific hypothetical aside.
Daphne exhaled softly, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her shoulder before turning away from the mirror. She didn't owe Tracey a biting response, and besides, she wasn't wrong. It wasn't just a study session.
Without another word, she grabbed her wand, slipped it into her robes, and headed for the door.
Daphne stepped out of the dormitory and into the dimly lit hallway leading to the Slytherin common room, only to nearly collide with someone the moment she rounded the corner. She barely managed to suppress a startled reaction, her fingers twitching instinctively toward her wand before she recognized the pale-haired figure in front of her.
"Greengrass," Malfoy greeted flatly, his expression unreadable as his gray eyes flicked over her.
Daphne quickly composed herself, schooling her features into cool neutrality. "Malfoy."
His gaze briefly swept the corridor behind her before he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "I want to talk."
She hesitated, glancing toward the common room entrance just beyond him, then back at his face. There was no smirk, no air of smug superiority, just something calculated. Serious.
Without a word, she inclined her head and turned, leading him toward a quieter stretch of walkway just out of sight of the common room entrance. The low torchlight flickered against the stone walls as she came to a stop, folding her arms and regarding him evenly.
"Well?" she prompted, keeping her voice calm, but wary. "What is it?"
Malfoy exhaled sharply, his arms folding across his chest as he leaned slightly against the cool stone wall. "I don't care why or for what reason, but I know you've been speaking with Potter," he said bluntly. "And I'm going to safely assume you're on your way to do just that now."
Daphne's expression didn't shift, her posture remaining perfectly composed, but inwardly, she felt a flicker of irritation. Of course Malfoy had figured it out. She had been careful, but clearly not careful enough.
Instead of acknowledging his assumption, she arched a single brow. "And?"
Malfoy's lips curled slightly, not quite a smirk but something close. "I want you to tell him I'll be attending that little Defense Association he's running."
Daphne tilted her head, unimpressed. "Why can't you tell him yourself?" she asked, her voice dry with obvious sarcasm.
Malfoy scoffed, his expression darkening. "Because I'd sooner die than dance to the tune of that half-blood who'd no doubt expect me to grovel and beg for scraps of training."
Daphne's fingers twitched at her sides as a sharp, angry retort rose to her lips, one that would leave no doubt about exactly how she felt about Harry Potter being spoken of like that. But at the last second, she bit her tongue, forcing herself to breathe evenly.
She wasn't about to let Draco Malfoy bait her.
Daphne let the silence stretch between them for a moment before tilting her head, her tone deliberately detached. "Hypothetically," she mused, "if I did somehow know Potter, what exactly would passing along your message get me?"
Malfoy's expression twisted, irritation flashing across his face as if the very idea of bargaining with her over this was offensive. He exhaled sharply through his nose, his posture stiff. "I might be willing to offer some information," he said grudgingly, "about my darling aunt."
Daphne stilled.
She knew immediately which aunt he meant…
Bellatrix Lestrange.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeve, her carefully crafted indifference wavering for just a second. Malfoy had struck something real, and he knew it. His sharp eyes flickered with satisfaction at her reaction, even though she masked it quickly.
For the first time since the conversation started, Daphne felt the shift of power in the air. Because now, he had something she might actually want so that she could help Harry and what he was doing.
Daphne took a slow breath, regaining control over her expression before meeting Malfoy's gaze with cool indifference. "I'll consider it," she said simply, her tone giving nothing away.
Malfoy gave a short, irritated huff, clearly displeased that she wasn't jumping at the offer, but he didn't push. Instead, he merely nodded, as if to say good.
Without another word, Daphne turned on her heel and walked away, her steps measured and unhurried. She exited the common room, the stone wall sliding back into place behind her as she stepped into the dimly lit corridor beyond.
She was mindful of the time, curfew wasn't far off, and she had no intention of getting caught out late. Her thoughts, however, were elsewhere. Malfoy knew more than he should. And now, he had dangled something in front of her that she wasn't sure she could ignore.
But for now, she pushed that aside. She had somewhere to be, and Harry could use this information.
(LINE BREAK)
Daphne moved silently through the castle corridors, concealed beneath a Disillusionment Charm as she made her way toward the Room of Requirement. The spell blurred her outline against the dimly lit stone walls, but she still stepped lightly, ever mindful of the time.
Reaching the familiar stretch of hallway, she let the magic fade and exhaled softly before pacing back and forth three times, her thoughts singularly focused.
I need to be in the room with Harry.
A door materialized before her, and without hesitation, she reached for the handle and stepped inside.
The sight that greeted her made her pause.
A small dinner table sat in the center of the room, set neatly with food and flickering candlelight. The soft glow of enchanted candles floated in a slow, deliberate circle above, casting a warm, golden light across the space. It was simple but thoughtful, and it made something tighten in her chest.
Then, her eyes found Harry.
He stood near the table, turning to face her as she entered. The small smile on his lips was both confident and inviting, and the way his emerald green eyes gleamed under the candlelight sent her heart skipping a beat.
For a moment, Daphne simply took him in, lingering in the doorway. Then, she stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
Daphne crossed the space between them without hesitation, reaching for him as he met her halfway. She slid her hands up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his robes, before tilting her head up and pressing her lips to his.
Harry responded instantly, one hand cupping her cheek while the other threaded into her hair, his fingers trailing along the back of her head in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. She melted into his embrace, sighing softly against his lips, savoring the way he held her, firm yet gentle, as if she was something precious.
The kiss deepened for a lingering moment before she finally pulled away, a breathless giggle escaping her as she rested her forehead against his. Her face felt warm, and judging by the way he was looking at her, his gaze full of something quiet and intense, he noticed.
She would tell him about Malfoy tomorrow.
Tonight was theirs and was far too pleasant to waste.