Chapter Text
The abandoned classroom on the fifth floor was silent, as it always was on Tuesday evenings. Most students had retreated to their dormitories early, exhausted from a particularly brutal Potions lesson that afternoon. Harry Potter sat alone on a dusty windowsill, staring through the grimy glass without really seeing the grounds beyond.
Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Ron and Hermione had stopped speaking to him. Three weeks since his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. Three weeks of whispers, accusations, and isolation that made the castle feel colder than any winter wind could manage.
Harry pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The isolation wasn't what bothered him most—he'd survived the Dursleys, after all. It was the betrayal that stung. Ron's face, twisted with jealousy and disbelief. Hermione's disappointed expression as she chose Ron's side over the truth.
"Rough day, Potter?"
The voice was smooth, cultured, and entirely unexpected. Harry's head snapped up to find Daphne Greengrass standing a few feet away, her blonde hair catching the firelight in a way that made it seem almost golden. She wore her Slytherin robes with the kind of casual elegance that seemed effortless, her expression unreadable but not unkind.
"That obvious?" Harry muttered, suddenly very aware of how disheveled he must look.
"Only to someone paying attention." She moved closer, her footsteps silent on the stone floor. "Mind if I sit?"
Harry gestured to the empty chair beside him, too tired to question why a Slytherin would want his company. Daphne settled into the seat with fluid grace, crossing her legs and studying him with eyes that were an unusual shade of blue-green.
"I've been watching you," she said after a moment, her voice matter-of-fact rather than creepy. "These past few weeks. You've handled this whole tournament mess better than most would."
Harry let out a bitter laugh. "Have I? Because from where I'm sitting, I've lost my best friends and half the school thinks I'm a lying attention-seeker."
"Hence 'better than most.'" Daphne's lips curved slightly. "Most people would be a sobbing mess by now. Or plotting revenge. You're just... enduring."
"Is there a point to this conversation, Greengrass?"
"Daphne," she corrected, leaning forward slightly. "And yes, actually. I'm propositioning you, Potter."
Harry's brain stuttered to a halt. "You're... what?"
"Not like that. Well, not entirely." Her smile widened at his expression. "I'm suggesting an alliance. A friendship, if you prefer less Slytherin terminology."
"Why?" The question came out more suspicious than Harry intended, but he'd learned the hard way that nothing came without strings attached.
Daphne was quiet for a moment, her gaze drifting to the fire. "Because I'm tired of the house politics. Because I think you're interesting. Because..." She paused, something vulnerable flickering across her features before being replaced by her usual composure. "Because everyone deserves someone in their corner, and right now, you don't have anyone."
The honesty in her voice caught Harry off-guard. He studied her face, looking for signs of deception or mockery, but found none. Just a genuine offer from someone who had no reason to care.
"What's in it for you?" Harry asked, because there had to be something.
"Your company. Your trust, hopefully." Daphne shrugged. "And maybe the chance to get to know the real Harry Potter, not the legend everyone else sees."
It was stupid to accept. Dangerous, even. She was a Slytherin, from a family that probably had connections to people who wanted him dead. But Harry was so tired of being alone, and something in Daphne's eyes made him want to take the risk.
"Alright," he said finally. "Friends."
Daphne's smile was brilliant. "Excellent. Now, first order of business—you need to get out of this depressing room. Come with me."
"Where?"
"Somewhere more private. Where we can actually talk without interruption." She stood, extending her hand. "Trust me."
Harry hesitated only a second before taking her hand. Her grip was warm and confident as she pulled him to his feet.
────────────────────────────────────────────────༺·༻────────────────────────────────────────────────
The Room of Requirement was something Harry had discovered in his third year, though he'd never shared that knowledge with anyone. So when Daphne led him to the seventh floor and paced three times before a blank stretch of wall, he was both impressed and slightly unnerved.
"How did you know about this place?" he asked as a door materialized.
"I have my sources." Daphne pushed the door open, revealing a cozy space that looked nothing like the bare room Harry usually conjured. This one had plush sofas, warm lighting from floating candles, and a distinct lack of the castle's usual drafts. "I've been coming here since second year when I needed to escape my housemates."
They settled onto one of the sofas, and for the first time in weeks, Harry felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Daphne kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs beneath her, looking more relaxed than he'd ever seen her.
"So," she said, "tell me about the tournament. The truth, not the Daily Prophet version."
And Harry did. He told her about waking up to his name being called, the confusion and fear, Dumbledore's grave expression. He told her about the dragons and the Hungarian Horntail waiting for him. He told her about Ron's betrayal and Hermione's coldness.
Daphne listened without interruption, her expression thoughtful. When he finished, she was quiet for a long moment.
"You didn't put your name in," she said finally. It wasn't a question.
"No. I swear I didn't."
"I believe you." She reached out and touched his hand briefly. "And for what it's worth, I think whoever did put your name in is either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, because they've essentially signed your death warrant."
"Comforting," Harry said dryly, but he appreciated the honesty more than he could say.
"I'm Slytherin. We prefer truth over platitudes." Daphne shifted closer, her shoulder brushing his. "But here's another truth—you're not alone anymore. You have me now."
The next few weeks fell into an unexpected rhythm. Harry and Daphne began meeting regularly in the Room of Requirement, always after curfew when the castle was quiet. They talked about everything—magic, families, dreams, fears. Daphne was wickedly intelligent, with a dry sense of humor that caught Harry off-guard and made him laugh in ways he hadn't in months.
She was also beautiful in a way that made Harry's teenage hormones sit up and take notice. Not that he'd admit it out loud.
It was during one of these late-night meetings, just a week before the Christmas holidays, that things shifted between them.
They'd been discussing the Yule Ball—another source of stress Harry didn't need—when Daphne suddenly asked, "Have you ever kissed anyone, Harry?"
Harry's face went hot. "I... what?"
"It's a simple question." Daphne's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Have you?"
"No one's ever—I mean, I haven't..." Harry mumbled, unable to meet her eyes. "I've never kissed anyone before."
Daphne moved closer, close enough that Harry could smell her perfume—something floral and expensive. "Would you like to try?"
Harry's heart was trying to break out of his chest. "With you?"
"No, with the Giant Squid. Yes, with me, you idiot." But her voice was fond, not mocking.
"Yeah," Harry breathed out, fairly certain his entire face was on fire. "Yes."
Daphne reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand, her touch gentle. "Consider it a Christmas present."
Before Harry could overthink it—before his brain could come up with a dozen reasons why this was a bad idea—Daphne leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was soft, exploratory, nothing like the passionate embraces he'd read about in romance novels he'd never admit to reading. But it was perfect in its own way. Daphne's lips were warm and tasted faintly of the chocolate frogs they'd been sharing. When she pulled back, Harry felt dizzy.
"Not bad for a first timer," Daphne murmured, her thumb brushing his cheekbone. "Want to try again?"
Harry nodded, not trusting his voice, and this time when they kissed, it was deeper, more confident. His hands found their way to her waist, and hers threaded through his perpetually messy hair.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing harder than before, Daphne's smile was satisfied.
"We should probably establish what this is," she said, still close enough that her breath ghosted across his lips. "Because I don't share, Potter. If we're doing this, we're doing it properly."
"Doing what exactly?" Harry asked, his brain still trying to catch up.
"Dating. Being together. Whatever you want to call it." Daphne's expression turned serious. "But it needs to stay secret, at least for now. My parents wouldn't approve, and with everything going on with the tournament..."
"I understand." And Harry did. Secret was fine. Secret meant Ron and Hermione couldn't ruin this too. Secret meant Daphne wouldn't face backlash from her house. "So we're... together? Really?"
"If you want to be."
"I do," Harry said, surprising himself with how much he meant it.
Daphne's smile was radiant. "Good. Then consider yourself taken, Mr. Potter."
They kissed again, slower this time, learning each other. When Daphne finally pulled back, there was a mischievous glint in her eyes that Harry was learning meant trouble.
"Now that we've established that," she said, "I think we should discuss what it means to be in a relationship with me."
"Okay?" Harry said cautiously.
"I have certain... expectations. Preferences." Daphne traced a finger along his jaw. "And I believe in complete honesty between partners. So I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to really think about whether you can give me what I need."
Harry's mouth went dry. "What do you need?"
"Someone who trusts me completely. Someone willing to try new things, even if they're outside their comfort zone." Her eyes held his, intense and searching. "Someone who wants to please me as much as I want to please them."
"I can do that," Harry said, and meant it. After weeks of isolation and betrayal, the idea of making someone happy—of being wanted and trusted—was intoxicating.
"Are you sure?" Daphne's voice was serious now. "Because once we start down this path, there's no going back. Our relationship will be... different from what you might expect."
"Different how?"
"That's something we'll explore together." Daphne stood, pulling Harry to his feet. "But first, I want to test something. A small thing, nothing major. If you can do this, then I'll know you're serious about us."
Harry's heart raced with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "What kind of test?"
Daphne walked to the far side of the room, and with a wave of her wand, a dresser appeared. She opened a drawer and pulled something out—something small and delicate that Harry couldn't quite make out in the candlelight.
"Come here," she said softly.
Harry crossed to her, his curiosity overwhelming his apprehension. When he got close enough, he realized what she was holding: a pair of women's underwear. They were simple, emerald green silk with delicate black lace trim.
"I want you to wear these," Daphne said, her voice matter-of-fact. "Under your robes. Tomorrow, all day. No one will know but us."
Harry stared at the garment, his mind reeling. "You want me to wear... panties?"
"Yes." Daphne held his gaze steadily. "I know it seems strange. I know it's asking a lot. But this is about trust, Harry. About showing me that you're willing to step outside your comfort zone for me. For us."
"Why?" The question came out quieter than Harry intended.
"Because it's something I find exciting. Because the idea of you carrying a secret just for me, something intimate that connects us even when we're apart..." Daphne's voice lowered, becoming almost sultry. "It's incredibly attractive. But only if you want to. I won't force you."
Harry looked at the silk in her hands, then back at Daphne's face. She was watching him with a mixture of hope and vulnerability that he'd never seen before. This mattered to her. And if he was being honest with himself, the idea was... not entirely unappealing. Strange, yes. But also thrilling in a way he couldn't quite name.
"Just tomorrow?" he asked.
"Just tomorrow. To see how you feel about it." Daphne stepped closer, her free hand coming up to rest on his chest. "If you hate it, we never speak of it again. But if you don't..." Her smile was promising. "Then we continue exploring together."
Harry took a deep breath and made his decision. "Okay. I'll do it."
Daphne's expression transformed into something between delight and desire. "Really?"
"Really. I trust you, Daphne."
She kissed him then, harder than before, her body pressing against his. When she pulled back, she pressed the silk into his hands.
"Keep them safe," she whispered. "And tomorrow, when you put them on, think of me."
────────────────────────────────────────────────༺·༻────────────────────────────────────────────────