Chapter Text
The cold February wind swept through the Hogwarts courtyard, whipping at the students' robes and hair as they hurried to their next classes. The ice that had covered the stones in previous weeks had already melted, leaving the ground damp and slippery, but the air was still biting, making Harry and Daphne’s cheeks flush slightly as they walked side by side.
Daphne pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her slender fingers retreating into the sleeves to shield herself from the cold that still bit at her skin. She cast a sideways glance at Harry, who seemed less bothered by the weather, his green eyes gleaming with a familiar energy — the look of someone who didn’t mind facing the wind if it meant a few more minutes by her side.
“If I catch a cold because of you, Potter, I’ll make sure you don’t survive the next night patrol at the Astronomy Tower,” she muttered, her lips curling into a small smile that betrayed the threatening tone.
Harry let out a short laugh, his fingers moving to intertwine with hers, feeling the chill of her touch against his own skin. “You talk like I’m not used to risking things to impress you,” he replied, raising an eyebrow as they passed a group of Hufflepuffs laughing and shoving each other near the entrance to the greenhouses.
Daphne rolled her eyes but didn’t let go of his hand. “Impress me? You?” she teased, tilting her head slightly as she looked at him. “You’re probably just thinking about which empty classroom you’ll drag me into under the excuse that we’re breaking up couples.”
Harry sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as they rounded a corner that led to the inner courtyard. “You know that’s not true,” he replied, his gaze flicking briefly toward the distant towers rising against the cloudy sky. “It was only five times I did that.”
Daphne arched an eyebrow, her blue eyes narrowing slightly as she studied his expression. “Are you sure about that?”
They laughed.
Daphne watched him for a moment, her eyes catching the gray light of the sky that was beginning to split open with small patches of blue. She seemed about to say something but held back, merely letting out a soft sigh as her fingers tightened around his, the touch now firmer, as if to reinforce the connection between them.
They stopped at a covered balcony overlooking the Quidditch pitch, where the stands were still coated in a thin layer of ice that shimmered softly under the pale afternoon light. Daphne leaned against the cold stone of the railing, her eyes slowly scanning the horizon as the wind blew gently through the columns.
A few Ravenclaws passed by, their curious glances quickly turning away when they realized who was there. Harry noticed Daphne’s slight shift beside him, as if resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the stares, but he said nothing, simply intertwining her fingers with his, the touch now more relaxed.
For a moment, they stood in silence, the distant sound of conversations and laughter mixing with the rustling of dry trees outside, dead leaves carried by the wind in little whirlwinds that danced between the shadows of the columns.
“Have you noticed how the castle feels… busier lately?” Daphne commented, her eyes still fixed on the distant towers where the light was beginning to tint the sky with soft shades of blue and purple. “I don’t know if it’s the end of winter or just people finally accepting that we’re together.”
Harry leaned against the railing beside her, their fingers still entwined but now more comfortably, naturally. “Maybe it’s both,” he replied, his gaze drifting to the flags on the tallest tower, fluttering gently in the wind. “Or maybe people just like to gossip.”
Daphne let out a short laugh, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at him with an expression that mixed amusement with something deeper — perhaps a faint curiosity. “I don’t know,” she murmured, her lips curling into a small smile. “You really surprise me sometimes, Harry.”
Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he watched the sky slowly darken. “I have my layers,” he replied, his voice low, almost a whisper that seemed to dissolve into the cold air around them.
Daphne watched him in silence for a few more seconds, her blue eyes capturing the last traces of light in the sky. She gave his fingers a gentle tug, as if to reinforce their connection, before tilting her head slightly.
“Do you think… this could last?” she asked suddenly, her voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it.
Harry blinked, caught off guard by the question, and for a brief moment, the February chill seemed to deepen around them, the silence stretching like a shadow between the stone columns.
Harry climbed the stairs toward the Great Hall, his footsteps echoing faintly against the cold stone walls as thoughts spun in his mind like uncontrollable whirlwinds. The silence that followed Daphne’s question still haunted him, like the distant echo of a spell he didn’t know how to reverse.
He couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. Their relationship seemed solid, and even with the curious glances and occasional teasing from classmates like Blaise and Tracey, he felt they were finally finding balance. But the way Daphne had pulled away, her fingers slipping from his, still lingered in his mind, leaving behind a hollow ache he couldn’t shake.
That was when, as he rounded the corridor leading to the prefects’ lounge, he heard a familiar voice.
“Harry.”
Harry froze instantly, his shoulders tensing as the voice reverberated slightly off the cold walls. He turned slowly to see Amelia leaning against the wall beside the lounge entrance, arms crossed over her chest, her brown eyes glowing with an intensity he hadn’t seen in weeks.
She was watching him with her head tilted slightly to the side, her cheeks flushed from the cold, her hair tied back in a ponytail with a few strands falling loosely around her face. For a moment, Harry considered just walking away, ignoring her presence as he had for the past few weeks, but something in her gaze made him stop.
“You look distracted,” she commented, her lips curling into a smile that felt both inviting and dangerously reminiscent of the days they used to spend together. “Something happen?”
Harry hesitated for a moment, his fingers moving unconsciously to the pocket of his coat while his eyes fixed on a nearby tapestry, as if searching for an escape route. He knew he should just keep walking, but the frustration and confusion still burning in his chest made him stay.
“I... I don’t know,” he finally replied, his shoulders sagging slightly as he let out a sigh. Despite everything, he still saw Amelia as a friend. “I think I messed things up with Daph.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow, her smile widening slightly as she uncrossed her arms and stepped toward him. “Ah,” she murmured, her eyes narrowing slightly as if savoring the information. “So things aren’t as perfect as you made them seem?”
Harry gave a small smile, feeling his shoulders relax a bit at her teasing tone. For a second, the conversation felt like it used to, back when they spent afternoons together—before everything became so complicated.
“Of course they are,” he said, his fingers still buried in his pockets as his eyes finally met hers. “I just... I don’t know what I said wrong.”
Amelia let out a soft laugh, her footsteps echoing lightly down the corridor as she stepped closer, her gaze now fixed on him with an intensity he knew all too well. “Greengrass isn’t exactly the simplest person,” she commented, her lips curling into a smile that felt sharper than warm. “She’s complicated. You knew that when you got involved with her.”
Harry felt his chest tighten slightly at her tone, the uncomfortable familiarity of the situation making his stomach churn. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, he felt her fingers brush against his arm, the warmth of her touch stark against the chill of the surrounding stone.
“But sometimes,” she continued, her eyes narrowing as she leaned in closer, her citrus-scented perfume blending with the icy air, “the complicated ones are the most interesting.”
Harry instinctively stepped back, his shoulders bumping against the cold wall as his wide eyes locked onto her face. He saw the small smile on Amelia’s lips widen as she took another step toward him, her fingers still tracing gentle circles on his arm.
“Amelia, I... I think you’re misunderstanding,” he began, trying to keep his voice steady, but feeling the heat rise to his ears as his heart raced wildly. “I care about Daphne.”
Amelia’s eyes narrowed slightly, the gleam in them growing more intense as her fingers slowly slid from his arm to his chest, tracing a soft path over the thick fabric of his coat. “I know,” she replied, her voice low, almost a whisper that seemed to echo against the stone walls. “But... does she care as much as you do?”
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but in that instant, he felt her fingers press slightly harder against his chest, her eyes locking onto his as she leaned in even closer, their faces now just inches apart.
“Amelia, no...” he started, but the words caught in his throat, his mind refusing to keep pace with how quickly the situation was spiraling.
Before he could react, her lips pressed against his—warm, firm—her fingers still resting on his chest as the world around him seemed to freeze.
For a second that stretched beyond time, Harry stood frozen, his eyes wide as the taste of Amelia’s lipstick spread across his lips, her perfume invading his senses. His chest tightened with guilt, despair curling around his throat like a tightening rope.
That’s when he heard the footsteps.
Harry’s eyes snapped open, Amelia’s lips still pressed to his, and he saw a familiar figure standing at the entrance to the corridor—blue eyes wide, her face as pale as the marble columns around them.
Daphne.
She stood there for a moment that felt like it lasted forever, her eyes flickering rapidly between them, her lips parting slightly as if she was about to say something but couldn’t find the words.
Harry felt the world around him collapse, the distant sounds of the castle fading as his eyes locked onto Daphne’s stricken face. He saw her shoulders tense, her fingers curling tightly at her sides as if trying to hold onto something—anything—that would keep her heart from shattering. He shoved Amelia away.
“Daphne, wait!” he cried, taking a step toward her, his arms reaching out instinctively to stop her, to keep her from disappearing into the darkness of the corridor.
But Daphne had already turned, her blonde hair whipping violently as she stormed away, her footsteps echoing like hammers on the stone floor.
“Daphne!” Harry repeated, his voice now desperate, cracking slightly as he chased after her, his feet pounding against the cold stones. “It’s not what it looks like! Wait, please!”
He saw her turn the first corner, her hair still flying behind her as she hurried on, her steps quicker, more determined.
Harry tried to catch up, his fingers stretching toward the emptiness she left behind, but the distance between them seemed to grow with every step, as if the castle itself was conspiring to keep them apart.
“Daphne, please, listen to me!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls as guilt spread through his chest like wildfire. “Let me explain!”
But she didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back. Her footsteps continued echoing until he finally rounded the corner and saw a door slam shut behind her with a bang that seemed to shake the entire castle.
Harry stopped for a moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes locked on the closed door as if sheer desperation could force it open.
He spun on his heel, his green eyes blazing with fury as he turned back to Amelia, who had followed behind the whole way, her lips curved in a smile that looked both satisfied and defiant.
“You... what do you think you’re doing?” he snapped, his voice low but carrying a fury he could barely contain. “Why did you do that?”
Amelia didn’t flinch, her brown eyes narrowing slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest, her head tilting as if studying his reaction.
“I didn’t do anything you didn’t want, Potter,” she replied, her lips still curled into that smile that now felt cruel, almost predatory. “You didn’t push me away. You didn’t move.”
Harry felt his stomach twist, the bitter taste of guilt spreading in his mouth as her words hit him like a slap. He stepped toward her, his shoulders tense, fists still clenched tightly at his sides.
“I pushed you away weeks ago!” he shot back, his voice louder now, the echoes bouncing down the dark corridor. “I made it perfectly clear I wanted nothing more than friendship!”
Amelia raised an eyebrow, her dark eyes narrowing further as she took a small step back, her heels clicking softly against the cold stone. “And yet you didn’t stop me,” she murmured, her lips curling into a smile now full of malice.
Harry took another step forward, his gaze locked onto her, his chest heaving, the muscles in his shoulders strung tight like cords ready to snap. “I don’t want anything to do with you, Amelia,” he said, his voice low but filled with a force that made her smile falter for a brief moment. “You are... you are pathetic.”
He didn’t wait to see her reaction. Before she could respond, Harry turned again, his footsteps quick and determined as he strode down the corridor, the echoes of his own words still ringing in his ears as the bitter taste of guilt spread through his mouth like poison.
Harry descended the stairs leading to the dungeons, his footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone walls. The air around him felt heavier, thick with the scent of damp stone and ancient potions that clung to the surroundings like persistent shadows. The chill of the stones seemed to seep into his bones, but the tightness in his chest was far more suffocating than the cold air around him.
As he turned the final corridor that led to the entrance of the Slytherin common room, he slowed his pace, his eyes quickly adjusting to the flickering, yellowish torchlight lining the walls. Shadows danced in rhythm with the flames, casting restless shapes that seemed to stretch toward him, as if the castle itself were conspiring to expose his mistake.
That’s when he heard the voices.
Harry froze immediately, his muscles tensing as instinct pressed him against the cold wall, his shoulders flush with the rough stone as he forced himself to breathe deeply. He recognized the first voice — the familiar, slightly sharp tone he’d learned to pick out in a crowd. Daphne.
But the other one, deeper and more confident, made his stomach twist with a discomfort he couldn’t ignore. Theodore Nott.
Harry crept forward silently, his feet gliding over the smooth stones to avoid making a sound, his eyes fixed on the shadows stretching ahead. He hid behind one of the columns that framed the archway into the dungeon corridor, his ears straining as their words finally became audible, each syllable laden with a tension that made the air feel heavier, almost suffocating.
“I can’t believe you’re letting this get to you so much,” Nott was saying, his voice low but laced with a calculated coldness that made Harry’s fingers curl tightly at his sides. “You’ve always been smarter than this, Daphne.”
For a moment, Harry didn’t hear a response. He leaned slightly forward, his shoulders stiff as he forced his breathing to stay quiet, his eyes still locked on the dancing shadows.
“I don’t need a lecture from you, Theo,” Daphne’s voice finally broke the silence, but there was something different about it — a fractured softness he wasn’t used to hearing. “I... I just want you to leave me alone.”
Harry couldn’t see her, but he knew her well enough to imagine the expression she must be trying to hold — chin lifted, eyes cold, shoulders squared as if shielding herself from the world. But he could hear the hesitation, the almost imperceptible tremor in her voice, and it made his stomach twist.
Nott let out a short, humorless laugh, his light footsteps echoing as he stepped closer to Daphne. “Spare me, Greengrass,” he muttered, his voice lower now but edged with an intensity that seemed to slice through the frigid air around them. “You can fool the others, but not me. I know you.”
Harry felt his chest tighten, blood pounding in his ears as his fists clenched at his sides. He stepped forward slightly, his feet gliding silently over the damp stones but still out of their line of sight.
Daphne didn’t answer right away, but Harry heard the soft shuffle of her boots against the stone as if she was trying to back away, to create some distance. His heart clenched tighter, guilt wrapping around his throat like an iron chain.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Nott continued, his voice now almost a whisper, the words dragging through the cold air between them. “I know you’re hurting. I know it hurts. But you don’t have to go through this alone.”
Harry felt the muscles in his shoulders coil, his teeth clenching as a wave of jealousy and despair surged through his chest. He forced himself to stay put, his fingers curling so tightly his nails were beginning to bite into his palms.
“Stop, Theo,” Daphne finally replied, her voice now quieter, almost a whisper threatening to break. “I don’t... I don’t want to talk about it.”
Nott stepped closer, his long fingers brushing lightly against her arm, sliding slowly up to her shoulder as he leaned in, his face mere inches from hers. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong with me,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly as the torchlight glinted off his sharp features. “I know you want more than what he can give you.”
Daphne froze for a second, her shoulders tense and her lips slightly parted as if unsure whether to recoil or push him away. Harry couldn’t see her face, but he could imagine her blue eyes wide, her breath caught in her throat as Nott’s fingers continued sliding possessively over her shoulder.
“I’ve always been here for you,” Nott whispered, his voice softer now but carrying an intensity that made the air feel even colder. “I know you better than he does. I understand you.”
Harry felt his chest squeeze even tighter, the muscles in his arms twitching as he fought the impulse to lunge forward and rip Nott’s hand off her. But he knew he couldn’t. Not yet.
Finally, Daphne let out a soft sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly as her fingers moved to Nott’s arm, gripping it lightly but without the firmness Harry had hoped for. He couldn’t see her face, but he heard her breathing quicken, the sound faintly echoing through the corridor, mingling with the crackling of the torches.
“I don’t want you,” she finally murmured, her voice so soft he almost didn’t catch it. “But I... I don’t know if I still want him.”
Harry felt his chest tighten as if being crushed by an invisible hand, guilt and despair coiling around his heart like a tightening rope.
At that moment, Harry stepped fully into the corridor, his footsteps firm and deliberate as his green eyes locked onto Nott, rage burning in his chest like liquid fire.
“I think she told you to leave her alone, Nott,” Harry said, his voice low but crackling with a tension that seemed to make the air itself vibrate.
Nott spun around quickly, his dark eyes narrowing as he saw Harry standing just a few meters away, fists clenched, shoulders rigid as he advanced slowly.
Daphne took a step back, her eyes wide as she absorbed the scene, her face slightly flushed, lips still parted as if struggling to find the right words to explain.
Nott let out a dry laugh, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he backed away from Daphne, his eyes still fixed on Harry. “And what are you going to do, Potter?” he taunted, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Give me a lecture on respect?”
Harry stepped forward again, the muscles in his shoulders tightening as he forced himself to breathe deeply. He could feel the heat of his anger radiating from every cell in his body, but he forced his voice to remain steady.
“I’m telling you to stay away from her,” he replied, his green eyes glowing intensely in the dim torchlight. “Before you do something you’ll regret.”
Nott studied him in silence for a moment, his dark eyes assessing Harry’s stance before shaking his head with an expression that mixed frustration and contempt.
“You really think you can protect her from everything, don’t you?” Nott muttered, his footsteps echoing softly as he slowly retreated, his eyes still fixed on Harry. “How sweet.”
He turned without saying another word, his footsteps fading into the shadows that led toward the Slytherin common room.
Harry stood frozen for a moment, his fists still clenched at his sides as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes flicking quickly to Daphne, who still stood there, arms crossed, her face pale as she watched him with an expression he couldn’t read.
His heart was still pounding as he watched Nott disappear down the corridor, his footsteps fading until they were swallowed by the dungeon’s darkness. Slowly, Harry turned his gaze to Daphne, his green eyes still blazing with the adrenaline of the confrontation — but her expression hit him like a punch to the gut.
Daphne stared at him, her blue eyes wide, her shoulders still tense, lips slightly parted as if torn between shouting or simply walking away. The silence between them stretched like an abyss, deep and impassable, until finally she took a step back, arms uncrossing slowly as anger began to spark in her gaze.
“You followed me?” she snapped, her voice low but loaded with an intensity that made Harry’s stomach knot.
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Daphne didn’t give him the chance. She took another step back, her eyes narrowing as her breathing quickened, her cheeks flushing with a rosy hue that contrasted sharply with the paleness of her face.
“You are unbelievable, Potter,” she continued, her voice rising slightly as her footsteps echoed in the corridor. “I can’t believe you had the nerve to follow me like I’m some child who needs to be monitored!”
Harry felt his chest tighten, words piling in his throat as he stepped toward her, arms extended in an attempt to calm her. “Daphne, it’s not like that. I just... I just wanted to talk to you.”
She let out a bitter laugh, her eyes narrowing further as she looked at him with a mixture of anger and disgust he had never seen before. “Talk to me?” she repeated, her voice nearly a hiss. “Now you want to talk? After what I saw?”
Harry blinked, guilt wrapping around his heart like a tightening rope. He opened his mouth to explain, but the words refused to come out, his mind still trapped in the image of her face when she saw them in the corridor.
“I should’ve never trusted you,” Daphne continued, her voice louder now, her quick steps echoing as she began pacing back and forth, her blonde hair whipping violently with every movement. “I knew this was a bad idea, that you were a bad idea, but I ignored every sign.”
Harry felt his stomach churn, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to find the right words to answer. “Daphne, it’s not like that. You don’t understand—”
“Oh, I don’t understand?” she cut him off, her eyes widening even more as she stepped closer, her index finger jabbing straight into his chest. “I understand perfectly, Potter. You used me. You played with me, made me believe I mattered to you, but in the end… you’re just an idiot!”
Harry took another step back, his chest tightening under the weight of her words, the force of her accusations hitting him like stones. He opened his mouth to protest, but Daphne didn’t let him.
“You never really cared,” she continued, her eyes now glistening with tears she was clearly fighting to hold back. “I was just... just another trophy to you, wasn’t I? Another way to prove you can have whatever you want.”
“That’s not true!” Harry finally managed to reply, his voice coming out louder than he intended, echoing off the cold dungeon walls. “I never thought that way. I care about you, Daphne. I—”
She shook her head violently, her blonde hair flying around her face as she took another step back, her shoulders rigid and her breathing quick. “Don’t lie to me,” she whispered, her lips trembling as her eyes filled with a mixture of rage and pain he had never seen before. “I always knew you were an idiot, but I was stupid enough to ignore it.”
Harry stood frozen for a moment, her words echoing in his mind like distant thunder, each syllable driving into his chest like a knife. He wanted to move, wanted to reach for her, but his feet felt glued to the ground, his muscles locked with the fear of making things even worse.
Daphne took another step back, her gaze still locked on him as the shadows around them seemed to close in, as if the castle itself were trying to push them apart.
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” she finally murmured, her voice low but filled with a certainty that made his heart squeeze even tighter. “Never.”
She turned without saying anything else, her footsteps echoing against the cold stone as she disappeared down the corridor toward the Slytherin common room, the shadows folding around her like a final curtain.
Harry stood there for a few seconds, his eyes still fixed on the empty corridor where Daphne had vanished, her footsteps still echoing in his mind like the last sounds of a battle he had lost. The air around him felt colder, as if the castle itself was feeding the tension back to him in icy waves that seeped into his bones.
He ran a hand through his hair, his trembling fingers tugging harder than he intended, his breathing short and uneven as he tried to process what had just happened. Daphne’s words still burned in his mind, each syllable slicing like a sharp blade, leaving invisible marks he knew wouldn’t fade easily.
“I’ll never forgive you for this.”
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenching at his sides as guilt wrapped tighter around his heart like an iron chain, squeezing harder with every passing second. He wanted to run after her, to explain, to undo the damage he’d caused, but his legs felt bolted to the cold floor, his muscles stiff and aching as if the castle itself refused to let him move.
Finally, he forced himself to turn away, his steps slow and heavy as he walked away from the dungeons. The torches on the walls cast long, winding shadows that seemed to stretch toward him, their flickering flames mirroring the chaos inside him.
When he finally emerged into the main corridor leading to the Great Hall, Harry felt the weight of guilt intensify even more, his shoulders sagging as his mind kept replaying the scene — the kiss with Amelia, Daphne’s devastated gaze, the cutting words she’d thrown at him like curses.
He paused for a moment beside one of the large windows overlooking the inner courtyard, his hands still trembling as he braced himself against the cold windowsill. The night wind brushed against his face like icy fingers, biting at his skin as he struggled to organize his thoughts.
“Idiot,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and hoarse, nearly swallowed by the distant sound of the wind sweeping through the courtyard.
He stood there for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on the dark sky beginning to fill with stars, each point of light feeling like a distant reminder of everything he had just lost.
Finally, he pushed away from the window, his footsteps heavy as he made his way toward Gryffindor Tower, his shoulders hunched and head down, the shadows around him closing in like the walls of a prison he had built for himself.
He didn’t know how to fix this, didn’t know how to regain the trust he had just shattered... but more than that, he didn’t know how to forgive himself.