Like Fire and Moonlight - Chapter 3: Ghosts of Exes Past

Harry woke up the next morning before anyone else in the dormitory, Ron’s soft snores still echoing around the circular room of the Gryffindor Tower. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands, his messy hair falling over his forehead as he tried to shake off the lingering fog of sleep. The faint morning light filtered through the arched windows, casting long shadows over the unmade beds and open trunks.

He dragged himself out from under the covers, his bare feet touching the uncomfortable chill of the stone floor. For a moment, he just stood there, his eyes fixed on the landscape beyond the tall windows. The Scottish countryside stretched out as far as the eye could see, still wrapped in a thin mist, the distant mountain peaks shrouded in the lingering shadows of the night.

Harry sighed, the muscles in his shoulders still tense. He wasn’t exactly a morning person, but something about the first day of classes always put him on alert – a mix of anxiety, anticipation, and nostalgia that tightened in his stomach like a tightly wound knot.

He glanced at the small bedside table, where a piece of parchment lay, Daphne Greengrass’s elegant, precise handwriting still clearly visible:

“Meet me tomorrow at 7:00 in the Prefects’ Room, fourth floor.”

Harry huffed, running a hand through his already messy hair. Why so early? It was as if she wanted to make him miserable from the very first day, and knowing Daphne, that was probably exactly her intention.

Dragging himself to the bathroom, he turned the faucet with a quick flick, letting the hot water run for a few seconds before stepping in. Steam quickly filled the small space, fogging up the old mirror and coating the tiles in a thin layer of mist. He stayed under the spray longer than necessary, the hot water pounding against his tense shoulders, dissolving the last bits of resistance his body put up against waking.

When he finally stepped out, muscles more relaxed and mind slightly clearer, he dressed quickly, pulling his socks up to his knees and tying his red and gold tie with a quick, sloppy knot. He grabbed the Head Boy badge, feeling the weight of the cold metal in his fingers before pinning it next to the Gryffindor crest on his robes.

He cast one last look around the still-silent dormitory, the tangled blankets and scattered pillows revealing his friends’ chaotic nighttime habits. For a moment, he considered the idea of sneaking down to the kitchens for a quick bite, but the last thing he wanted was to irritate Daphne Greengrass first thing in the morning by being late.

Harry sighed, tossing his hair back in an automatic gesture before stepping out of the room, his footsteps echoing softly down the spiral staircase leading to the common room. He still didn’t know exactly how he was going to handle Daphne, but one thing was certain – he didn’t plan on making things easy for her either.

~HP~

Harry reached the Prefects’ Office on the fourth floor a few minutes before seven. The place was different from any other room he had seen at Hogwarts – less gloomy than most corridors and classrooms, yet still carrying that ancient sense of history that seemed to seep from every stone in the castle.

The office was lit by large arched windows that allowed the soft morning light to pour in, casting long shadows across the polished stone floor. The walls were lined with tapestries representing the four Hogwarts houses, each one embroidered with vibrant detail – the golden lion of Gryffindor, the blue eagle of Ravenclaw, the black badger of Hufflepuff, and the silver serpent of Slytherin. Between the tapestries, small shelves lined the walls, stacked with dusty books on leadership, magical history, and school regulations.

In the center of the room, a long, dark wooden table stretched from end to end, polished to a shine, with cushioned chairs around it, each one bearing a small golden crest on the back, representing the four houses. There was also a small glass cabinet in the corner, displaying a collection of old badges, including some that Harry suspected might have once belonged to his own parents.

Daphne was already there, seated in one of the chairs near the window, the morning sunlight illuminating her blonde hair, making it appear even brighter at that early hour. She was impeccably dressed, her uniform perfectly fitted, the Head Girl badge pinned precisely beside the Slytherin emblem. She didn’t look up when he entered, her long fingers slowly turning the pages of a piece of parchment that looked like it had been around for more than a few decades.

Harry closed the door behind him with a soft click, his eyes scanning the room before he approached the table.

“You really don’t waste time, do you?” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from her.

Daphne slowly raised her eyes, her long lashes fluttering as if she were waking from a pleasant dream. She didn’t smile, but her lips curved slightly, as if she had already been expecting his provocation.

“If you had arrived earlier, you might actually seem more prepared,” she replied, her icy blue eyes locking onto his.

Harry huffed, crossing his arms on the table as he leaned back in the chair, his feet already starting to sway slightly – a nervous habit he had never managed to break. “It’s not even seven o’clock. Only you would think it’s a good idea to make someone meet this early.”

Daphne glanced at the parchment for a second before closing it with a controlled movement. “It’s a good idea for someone who takes their responsibilities seriously,” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Something I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Harry felt his teeth clench. He knew she was provoking him on purpose, but it still irritated him.

“You might think being Head Girl gives you the right to act like the queen of Hogwarts,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing, “but I have a badge too.”

She held his gaze for a moment, her eyes gleaming with a mix of challenge and amusement. “Oh, really? And when are you going to start acting like someone who deserves to wear it?”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated, his eyes locked on hers for a second longer than necessary. He forced himself to take a deep breath, his fingers tightening against the polished wood of the table.

“Can we just start with the patrol schedules for the first month?” he said finally, trying to keep his tone steady. “I’d rather get this over with before breakfast.”

Daphne gave a slight smile, as if she had won some silent battle. “Finally, something we agree on, Potter.”

She pulled another piece of parchment from the side, unrolling it with a precise motion before sliding it across the table to him, her eyes still glinting with that provocative spark that seemed to be her signature.

Harry took the parchment, his eyes quickly scanning the neatly organized lines detailing the patrol times and the names of the prefects assigned to each shift. He let out a slow breath, trying to ignore the faint, distracting scent of her perfume that seemed to cling to the paper.

~HP~

Time seemed to crawl by as Harry and Daphne finished ironing out the details of the month’s patrol schedule. She had insisted on reviewing every line of the plan, adjusting times and routes with the precision of someone preparing for a duel. Harry, already hungry and with his stomach growling, tried to focus on her words, but his eyes kept drifting to the window, where the golden morning light now bathed the distant hills.

“So, do you think this is workable?” Daphne asked, her eyes fixed on the parchment spread out between them.

Harry blinked, pulling his mind back to the room. He glanced down at the perfectly drawn lines, the neatly organized columns of prefect names. He couldn’t deny it – it was a flawless plan.

“Looks good,” he replied, trying not to sound too impressed. “But I still think the night patrols should be done in pairs from different houses. It helps prevent fights.”

Daphne raised an eyebrow, her icy blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you really think we need babysitters to keep the students in line?”

“It’s not about babysitting,” Harry shot back, crossing his arms on the table. “It’s about stopping the Slytherins from finding excuses to pick on students from other houses.”

Daphne let out a short, humorless laugh. “If you think all Slytherins are just little Malfoys in training, maybe you should reconsider who actually needs babysitting here.”

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. He turned to see Ernie and Hannah walking in, followed closely by Anthony and Padma. The prefects looked cheerful, laughing at something Ernie had said in the corridor, but their expressions quickly grew serious when they noticed that Daphne and Harry were already there, tension clearly hanging between them.

“Morning,” Ernie said, pulling out a chair and sitting down beside Hannah, who shot a quick glance at Daphne before tucking her blonde hair behind her ears. “Are we late?”

“No, you’re on time,” Daphne replied, quickly straightening the papers in front of her with a precise, practiced motion. “Shall we begin?”

The door opened again, and Ron and Hermione entered, closely followed by Malfoy and Parkinson. Hermione gave Harry a small, encouraging smile, while Ron took a seat beside him, his eyes narrowing as Malfoy and Pansy sat down on the opposite side of the table, their faces already twisted into looks of disdain.

“Are we ready?” Daphne asked, completely ignoring the tension that had filled the room the moment Malfoy sat down.

She unrolled the parchment they had just finished reviewing, her eyes moving quickly over the neatly written lines in her precise handwriting.

“For the night patrols,” she began, “we’ll divide the houses to avoid conflicts. Parkinson and Macmillan together,” she shot a quick glance at the two, who both nodded in agreement, “Patil and Weasley,” she continued, turning to the two Ravenclaws, who quickly nodded as well, “Granger and Goldstein for the mornings,” she looked at Hermione, who nodded firmly, while Ron simply rolled his eyes, “and Malfoy and Abbott for the first evening rounds.”

“Potter and I will handle the final rounds, just before curfew,” Daphne continued, her eyes fixed on the parchment as if she hadn’t noticed Harry’s reaction at hearing his own name. “We need to make sure the corridors are empty before everyone heads back to their common rooms.”

Harry forced himself to keep a neutral expression, but he felt his shoulder muscles tense. Of course she would pair herself with him for the final rounds. It was exactly the sort of move he should have predicted.

Malfoy let out a low chuckle, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. “Of course you’d get the last shift, Potter,” he said, his eyes gleaming with a mix of contempt and amusement. “Nothing like a hero to patrol the castle while everyone else sleeps.”

Harry turned to him, his eyes narrowing. “I’d rather that than have to deal with you all the time, Malfoy.”

Pansy let out an exaggerated laugh, her eyes darkening as they met Hermione’s from across the table. “You Gryffindors are always so noble. It’s almost irritating.”

“And you Slytherins are always so despicable,” Ron shot back, his blue eyes sparking with irritation.

Daphne let out a long sigh, her fingers tapping impatiently on the edge of the parchment, as if trying to break the tension hanging in the air. “If you’re all done with this childish bickering, can we move on?”

There was a brief silence, and Hermione shot a warning glance at Ron, who simply crossed his arms, still casting sideways glares at Malfoy.

“Any questions?” Daphne asked, her eyes slowly moving from face to face, as if daring someone to disagree with her.

Ernie opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it when Daphne fixed him with a look that clearly said not to waste her time.

“None,” he replied quickly, his ears turning a slight shade of pink.

Daphne nodded, satisfied, and began rolling up the parchments again, her movements precise and controlled. “Then we’re all set.”

She stood up, smoothing the skirt of her uniform before tossing her hair back with a quick, controlled motion. “I’ll see you all at breakfast.”

She left without a backward glance, her firm, determined steps echoing through the room until the door clicked shut behind her.

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders finally ease.

“Is she always like this?” Anthony asked, his eyes still fixed on the closed door.

Harry shrugged, slowly standing up. “You have no idea.”

Ron stepped closer, giving Harry a light slap on the shoulder. “I don’t know how you’re going to survive this for an entire year.”

“Neither do I,” Harry muttered, his lips curling into a tired half-smile. “But let’s get to breakfast before Greengrass finds some new way to torture us.”

The prefects exchanged quick glances before getting up to head for the Great Hall, the imagined smell of toast and bacon already making their stomachs rumble in anticipation.

~HP~

As they made their way toward the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione descended the spiraling staircases leading to the entrance hall. The sound of hurried footsteps and excited chatter echoed through the corridors as students rushed to secure the best seats at the long tables.

They had just escaped the prefects’ meeting, and Harry could already feel his stomach growling, the imagined scent of toast and bacon seeping into his thoughts. He was about to make a comment about the absurd number of shifts Daphne had tried to push onto them when a familiar voice made him stop halfway down the stairs.

“Harry, darling!”

He barely had time to react before Amelia practically threw herself at him, her thin arms wrapping around his neck with the force of an octopus’s tentacles. She pressed herself against him, her sweet, slightly cloying perfume filling the air around them.

Harry shot a desperate look at Ron and Hermione, who merely shrugged with amused expressions before continuing down the stairs, clearly not interested in being dragged into the conversation. They had warned Harry that this would eventually happen, but he hadn’t paid much attention at the time. Now, he regretted it deeply.

“I didn’t see you yesterday,” Amelia said, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes, her fingers still resting on his shoulders. “I thought you were going to meet me after dinner.”

Harry forced a smile, trying to ignore the knot forming in his stomach. “Sorry, Amelia,” he replied, adjusting the strap of his bag to create a bit more space between them. “I had to turn in early. I had some things to sort out with Greengrass this morning. Head Boy duties, you know.”

She blinked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You and Greengrass? In the same place two days in a row without killing each other? That must be some kind of record.”

Harry gave a short laugh, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. “Maybe,” he replied, starting to descend the steps slowly in the hope that she would follow him to the hall, where he could lose himself in the crowd. “Did you want to talk about something?”

Amelia pressed her lips together, her eyebrows arching slightly as they continued down the stairs. Her perfume seemed to grow stronger with every step, a sweet, floral aroma that made Harry’s stomach twist. He wondered, not for the first time, why he had even started going out with her the previous year.

“I just thought maybe you could help me with Defense this week,” she said, sliding her hand down his arm in a way that felt almost casual, but was clearly too practiced to be spontaneous.

Harry blinked, the surprise evident on his face. “Classes haven’t even started yet,” he replied, frowning.

Amelia shrugged, her fingers now tracing small circles on his arm. “But it’s always good to be prepared, don’t you think? And you’re the best Defense student at Hogwarts. I thought maybe we could... you know, spend some time together.”

Harry felt his chest swell slightly with pride at the compliment, but quickly reminded himself that this wasn’t a good idea. He already had too many responsibilities, and the last thing he needed was to get tangled up in a complicated relationship.

“You’re right,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual as he subtly pulled his arm away from her touch. “But, to be honest, I really can’t. Between Head Boy duties, N.E.W.T.s, and Quidditch practice, my head’s a mess right now.” He forced a smile, trying to look apologetic. “But how about this – I’ll reach out next week. How does that sound?”

She hesitated, her bright eyes narrowing for a second, but quickly shrugged, her lips curving into a smile that seemed a bit more forced than usual. “Alright,” she said, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, her sweet perfume enveloping him once more. “See you later.”

Before he could respond, she turned on her heel, her hair swishing slightly as she disappeared into the flow of students moving toward the Great Hall.

Harry let out a slow breath, feeling his shoulders relax slightly as Amelia’s figure vanished into the crowd. He shook his head, trying to clear the lingering scent of her perfume from his nose.

He finally caught up with Ron and Hermione at the entrance to the hall, where the two were already waiting for him with poorly concealed smirks.

“I told you this would happen,” Ron said, giving Harry a light slap on the shoulder as they entered the Great Hall, where the tables were already filling up with the first bowls of fruit and baskets of bread.

“You need to learn to be clearer with people, Harry,” Hermione added, trying not to laugh as they sat down. “You’ve been stringing her along for months.”

Harry sighed, pouring himself a cup of strong coffee. “I know. I just don’t want to start the year with unnecessary drama.”

Ron let out a short laugh, piling his plate high with scrambled eggs. “Good luck with that.”

Harry managed a small smile, but his stomach still felt a bit unsettled. This definitely wasn’t the kind of conversation he wanted to have before breakfast.

~HP~

Breakfast passed without any major incidents, and soon Harry found himself walking through the cold corridors of the dungeons, heading to the first class of the year – Potions. He hadn’t expected this to be the subject to kick off his final year, but he couldn’t complain. If he wanted to become an Auror, he needed top marks in Potions, which meant enduring Slughorn and his endless ramblings about his famous former students.

The dungeon corridors were dark and damp, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the stone walls as he hurried to avoid being late. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows that moved like ghosts around him, and the air held that familiar smell of dried herbs and ancient ingredients.

He arrived almost at the last minute, as usual, and pushed open the heavy wooden door, slipping into the classroom just before Slughorn appeared with his usual broad smile, his round belly swaying slightly beneath his robes.

The class was small, made up only of students who had managed to score exceptionally well in their O.W.L.s. Harry spotted Ron and Hermione sitting near the middle of the room and quickly joined them, dropping his bag to the floor and collapsing onto the bench beside his friend.

“Almost late,” Ron muttered, giving him a light nudge on the shoulder. “Slughorn wouldn’t have let that slide.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I already spend enough time getting chewed out by Greengrass. I don’t need anyone else on my back.”

He shot a quick glance across the room, where Daphne was already seated, her eyes fixed on her textbook, her back straight and her blonde hair falling neatly over her shoulders. For a second, she seemed to sense his gaze and looked up, but Harry quickly turned away, focusing on adjusting the glass vials on his desk.

“Good morning, and welcome to a new year,” Slughorn announced, entering the room with his arms spread wide as if welcoming old friends for tea. “It’s always a pleasure to see familiar faces – and some new ones too,” he added, casting a quick glance at a few students who looked like they wanted to shrink into their chairs.

He moved to the center of the room, his eyes sparkling as he scanned the class, pausing for a moment to look at Harry and Daphne.

“When I heard that you two had been made Head Boy and Head Girl,” he said, puffing out his chest as if it were a personal point of pride, “I was absolutely delighted. My two star pupils.”

Harry felt his ears heat up but tried not to show it. He shot a quick look at Daphne, who kept her face perfectly neutral, though he noticed her fingers tighten slightly around the edge of her book.

Slughorn launched into a monologue about the challenges of seventh year, mentioning past classes that had brewed extraordinary potions and made groundbreaking discoveries in the world of alchemy. Harry tried to pay attention, but his mind quickly wandered to Quidditch. He needed to talk to Ron and Ginny about tryouts for the new players, and maybe even come up with some fresh strategies to secure the Cup in his final year.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice when Slughorn stopped speaking and approached his desk.

“Harry?”

Ron gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs, and Harry blinked rapidly, trying to focus. “Yes, Professor?”

Slughorn smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the dim torchlight. “I was just saying that we’ll be starting the year a little differently. To mix things up a bit, we’ll be working in pairs,” he said, his eyes scanning the classroom. “And what better pair than our two Head Students? You and Miss Greengrass will work together.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Slughorn continued, clearly pleased with his own idea. “You have until the end of the lesson to brew the Wolfsbane Potion. Let’s see how the two of you fare together.”

Harry felt his stomach twist, but he decided he could handle it. He had watched Remus brew that potion dozens of times and was confident he could do it with one hand tied behind his back – even if it meant working alongside Daphne.

They moved to a workbench at the back of the room, where Daphne had already organized the ingredients with precise care, the glass jars perfectly aligned and the knives immaculately sharpened. Harry pulled a cauldron closer, trying not to look uncomfortable as he reached for the first batch of wolfsbane leaves.

For a few minutes, they worked in silence, the only sounds being the gentle bubbling of the potion and the soft scrape of knives against cutting boards. Harry found himself watching Daphne’s hands as she chopped roots with a precision that would have impressed even Snape.

They were halfway through the process, the potion beginning to take on its characteristic silvery-blue color, when Daphne broke the silence.

“I heard you broke Baxter’s heart earlier,” she said without looking up, her hands still moving with surgical precision. “Couldn’t even wait for the first week of classes to pass?”

Harry blinked, surprised by the comment. “Jealous?” he teased, but quickly remembered that she was holding a sharp knife. “Amelia’s a nice girl,” he continued, tossing a few dragon scales into the cauldron, “but I’m not looking for anything serious.”

Daphne let out a short, cold laugh. “Then why do you insist on breaking people’s hearts?”

Harry shrugged, slowly stirring the potion clockwise. “I don’t break hearts, Greengrass. I just tell people what they want to hear. They set themselves up for disappointment.”

Daphne finally looked up, her eyebrows arched. “You’re not even willing to admit you play a part in it?”

Harry hesitated for a moment but didn’t respond.

Daphne narrowed her eyes, her lips curving into a slight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You should worry about that. Being an adult means more than just wearing a tie.”

Harry felt his face heat up, but before he could respond, he remembered a piece of gossip he had overheard last year. He leaned in slightly closer to her.

“And what about you and Nott?” he prodded. “The ‘Royal Couple’ of Slytherin. I heard he couldn’t handle your eternal frost.”

Daphne paused for a second, her eyes narrowing into a look of pure disdain. “That’s none of your business, Potter. And our personal lives are very much separate.”

Harry smiled, satisfied that he had finally managed to crack her composure, and went back to stirring the potion, which was now nearly complete.

They finished the potion in silence, and when Slughorn passed by their station, he leaned in to take a look into their cauldron.

“Perfect, my dears! Absolutely perfect!” he exclaimed, his eyes gleaming. “If you keep this up, you might even teach me a thing or two this term.”

Harry and Daphne exchanged a quick glance but said nothing.

When Slughorn dismissed them, Harry quickly reached out and grabbed Daphne’s arm, guiding her out of the classroom before she could open her mouth and give the professor an excuse to keep them for a few more minutes. They slipped through the door without another word, their robes billowing as they hurried down the corridor.

As they climbed the stairs back to the surface, Harry watched her hair sway slightly with each firm step, and, for the first time, he found himself thinking that maybe she wasn’t as unbearable as he had always imagined.