Like Fire and Moonlight - Chapter 4: Small Surprises

The days at Hogwarts began to pass in a frantic rhythm, the mornings growing colder and the leaves on the trees around the castle turning shades of orange and red as October pushed on. Harry barely noticed the time slipping by, caught up in a routine that seemed to consume every hour – demanding classes, Head Boy duties, and endless Quidditch practices.

Between his nightly patrols with Daphne, which always seemed to stretch longer than expected, and the strategic meetings with the Gryffindor team, he had little time left for himself. He often found himself running from one end of the castle to the other, trying to balance his responsibilities with his N.E.W.T. preparations and the growing pressure as Quidditch captain.

The first match of the season, against Hufflepuff, was approaching quickly, and Harry couldn’t stop his mind from drifting to the strategies he needed to test and the new players who still had to prove themselves. He found himself scribbling plays in the margins of his Transfiguration parchments and sketching attack formations in the corners of his Potions notes while Slughorn droned on about rare ingredients.

Curiously, his relationship with Daphne also seemed to be evolving – in a way he never would have expected. They still exchanged barbs during patrols and prefect meetings, but Harry was starting to recognize her patterns. He had noticed that if he didn’t provoke her, she wouldn’t attack him either. It was almost like a silent game, a careful dance that they both seemed to have learned to execute without ever admitting that they were, in fact, starting to understand each other.

Once, during a patrol on the third floor, Harry had casually mentioned that he preferred moonlit corridors because he could see the footprints students left behind on the marble floors. Daphne had looked at him for a second, her blue eyes glinting with something that seemed almost like genuine interest.

“Interesting,” she had replied, her voice low and controlled. “I prefer the darkness. Shadows reveal more about people than light.”

Harry had laughed, surprised by the response. “You really are a Slytherin to the core.”

She hadn’t responded immediately, but he had noticed the corner of her lips curve slightly as she moved away to check an empty classroom.

The teasing still existed, of course, but it had lost some of its initial venom, transforming into something closer to a friendly rivalry. Harry wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened, but he decided he didn’t mind. He didn’t need to be friends with Daphne, but not hating her every time they met already felt like significant progress.

Meanwhile, Quidditch practices were ramping up. He spent chilly mornings on the Quidditch pitch, the wind cutting across his face as he shouted instructions to the team, his voice growing hoarse from correcting mistakes and motivating his teammates. Ginny was flying better than ever, and Ron seemed to have finally overcome his goalkeeping nerves, but Harry knew they needed to be perfect if they wanted to beat Hufflepuff.

He often found himself thinking about strategies even during his patrols with Daphne, his eyes drifting to the castle windows, watching the empty Quidditch pitch in the distance, the silent stands that would soon be filled with shouting, cheering students.

One night, as they climbed the stairs back to the tower, Daphne surprised him with a question that seemed to come out of nowhere.

“Have you thought about what you’ll do after Hogwarts?” she asked, without looking directly at him, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

Harry paused for a second, the question catching him off guard. He hadn’t expected her, of all people, to care about that.

“I want to be an Auror,” he replied finally, his voice coming out firmer than he had expected. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

Daphne shot him a quick glance, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Makes sense,” she murmured, continuing up the stairs. “You do seem to have a habit of chasing trouble.”

Harry chuckled, his steps feeling a bit lighter as they continued their path through the sleeping castle.

Harry adjusted his pace to match Daphne’s as they climbed the stairs, the torches on the walls casting long shadows that moved slowly in time with their steps. The silence between them was comfortable, almost familiar, broken only by the soft sound of their breathing and the echo of their footsteps on the cold stone.

“And what about you?” he asked suddenly, the question slipping out before he could stop himself. “What do you want to do after Hogwarts?”

Daphne paused for a second, her fingers lightly brushing the stone railing as they ascended to a higher floor. She seemed to think about the question for a moment, her blue eyes focusing on the passing tapestries, as if the golden-threaded figures might offer an answer.

"I'm not sure yet," she finally said, her tone softer than usual, almost introspective. "My father has always wanted me to continue in the family business. He thinks I’d be perfect for managing the investments and connections the Greengrass family has cultivated over the years."

Harry raised an eyebrow, surprised by her response. He had never really thought much about Daphne’s family beyond the fact that they were one of the most traditional and powerful pure-blood families in the wizarding world.

“But,” she continued, her lips curving slightly, as if allowing herself a small secret, “I've always been more interested in medicine.”

Harry nearly stopped in the middle of the staircase, his surprise evident on his face. “Medicine?” he repeated, turning his head to look at her. “You? I never would have imagined that was your style.”

She shot him a glare that could have frozen the Black Lake, her eyes narrowing as if he had just insulted her.

“And why not?” she retorted, her voice taking on a sharper tone. “Do you think all Slytherins only care about power and influence?”

Harry hurried to correct himself, raising his hands in a defensive gesture. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. It’s just... you seem so... controlled. Always so focused on rules and discipline. I didn’t imagine you’d be interested in something so... altruistic.”

Daphne watched him for a moment, her eyes glinting slightly in the flickering torchlight. For a second, Harry thought she might fire back with a sharp remark, but instead, she just sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Medicine isn’t just about altruism, Potter,” she said, her voice returning to its usual controlled tone. “It’s about precision, discipline, dedication. Treating wounds, curing diseases, understanding the human body and its limitations – it’s a constant challenge. Not so different from a good game of chess or brewing a complex potion.”

Harry felt his lips curve into a half-smile. “You’d get along well with my mother, then. Lily Potter is famous in that field.”

He noticed that Daphne’s eyes brightened slightly at the mention of his mother’s name – something he hadn’t expected. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes drifting down the corridor ahead before she responded.

“Yes, I know,” she said, her voice quieter, almost reverent. “Lily Potter is a legend among Healers. My father used to speak of her... with respect.”

Harry fell silent for a moment, absorbing that bit of information. He had never imagined that anyone from the Greengrass family would have any respect for his parents, especially considering that the Greengrasses were one of the oldest and most conservative pure-blood families in the wizarding world.

“I didn’t know your family admired my parents,” he said, his tone softer than he had intended.

Daphne shrugged, the mask of indifference slipping back into place on her face. “My father recognizes talent when he sees it,” she replied, her steps resuming their steady rhythm as they climbed the last few steps. “He may be traditional, but he’s not blind.”

Harry let out a slow breath, his eyes still fixed on her silhouette as she moved a little ahead, her blonde hair swaying gently with each step. He didn’t know exactly what to make of that revelation, but one thing was certain – Daphne Greengrass was much more than the cold, calculating girl he had always imagined.

As they approached the end of the corridor leading to the Great Hall, Harry felt a slight tightness in his chest, as if a new curiosity had settled there – something he wasn’t sure he wanted to explore, but also couldn’t quite ignore.

~HP~

Harry tilted his head back, letting the hot water cascade over his shoulders and down his back, the tense muscles from practice slowly loosening. Steam rose around him, filling the small space of the Gryffindor locker room with a dense fog that seemed to muffle all the sounds around him. He closed his eyes, trying to empty his mind for a few minutes, pushing his worries aside.

There were only two days left until the match against Hufflepuff, and despite the team being strong – Ginny was flying like a rocket, Ron finally seemed confident as a keeper, and the new Beaters showed promise – there were still adjustments to be made. The synchronization between the new players was still off, and Harry spent entire practices correcting positions and going over strategies to ensure everyone was on the same page.

He sighed, finally turning off the shower and reaching for a towel he had left hanging on the hook beside him. He quickly wrapped it around his waist, the heat from the water still clinging to his skin as small droplets trickled down his chest while he walked over to the lockers.

His eyes fell on the Quidditch robes he had carefully folded on the bench beside his clean clothes. He needed to hurry – he had one last patrol to do with Daphne that night. To his surprise, she had given him a night off to rest before the match, something he hadn’t expected the notoriously controlling Slytherin to allow.

He was about to pull the towel tighter around his waist when he heard the sound of the locker room door opening and closing quickly behind him. Harry froze, his eyes widening as he turned to see who had come in.

He expected to see one of his teammates – maybe Dean or Seamus – but what he saw left him speechless for a moment.

“Amelia?” he exclaimed, his voice coming out louder than he intended, as he quickly pressed the towel more firmly against his waist, his face growing hot as he realized the situation. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Amelia Baxter stood by the door, her dark hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, her light eyes sparkling with something Harry couldn’t quite tell if it was amusement or determination. She took two steps inside, the door closing softly behind her, muffling the distant sound of the wind blowing across the Quidditch pitch.

“Relax, Harry,” she said, her lips curving into a smile she probably thought was seductive, but which, to him, felt more unsettling than alluring in that moment. “I just wanted to talk.”

Harry instinctively stepped back, his bare shoulders pressing against the cold surface of one of the lockers, the muscles still tense from practice. “You can’t just walk into the boys’ locker room like this,” he snapped, his voice coming out more irritated than he had intended. “This is completely insane.”

Amelia took a few more steps toward him, the sweet perfume he had started associating with headaches invading his senses. She stopped just a few inches from him, her eyes locked onto his, her lips still curled into that smile that now seemed more predatory than charming.

"I just wanted to wish you luck for the match," she said, her fingers reaching out to lightly trace a line down his chest, making Harry's muscles tense instinctively. "And, you know, maybe remind you of some of the moments we had last year."

Harry felt his face grow hot, and it wasn’t just from the lingering heat of the shower. He took a step to the side, trying to put some distance between them while gripping the towel tightly, as if his dignity depended on it – and, in a way, it did.

"Amelia, this isn’t the time," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I have practice early tomorrow, and I still have a patrol tonight. And you shouldn’t be here."

She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with something he couldn’t quite place – provocation or frustration. "You always find an excuse to avoid me, Harry. I thought we were at least friends."

Harry exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm as he adjusted the towel once more. "We are friends, but that doesn’t mean you can just walk into the boys’ locker room whenever you want."

Before Amelia could respond, the locker room door creaked open again, the sound slow and deliberate, like the first stroke of a blade being drawn.

Harry turned, his heart racing as he saw the tall, slender figure of Daphne Greengrass standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and a look of pure disdain in her sharp blue eyes.

She took a step inside, her gaze sweeping over the scene – Harry in nothing but a towel, Amelia just inches away from him, their faces flushed and breaths still quick. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving slightly into a half-smile that did nothing to hide her contempt.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked, her voice low and sharp, like the edge of a finely honed blade.

Amelia took a step back, her eyes widening slightly as she struggled to hide her surprise. "I... I was just wishing Harry good luck for the match," she said, her voice a little shaky.

Daphne let out a short, humorless laugh, her eyes still locked on Harry. "Of course you were. Because nothing says 'good luck' like breaking into the boys’ locker room."

Harry felt his face grow even hotter, his hand gripping the towel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or even more uncomfortable with Daphne’s sudden arrival.

"Amelia," he said finally, trying to keep his voice firm. "I really need to get changed. Can we talk later?"

Amelia hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting between Harry and Daphne before she finally let out a slow breath and took a few steps back.

"Fine," she said, her lips pressed into a thin line. "But don’t forget what I said, Harry."

She shot one last glance at Daphne before pushing the door open and disappearing quickly into the corridor, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls as she left.

Daphne waited until the door had fully closed before taking another step closer, her arms still crossed as she looked at Harry with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher.

"If you’re going to keep having these little secret rendezvous," she said, her tone dry and slightly amused, "at least try not to be late for patrols. I don’t have the patience to wait while you get tangled up with your... admirers."

Harry rolled his eyes, but felt a small wave of relief wash over him as he realized that Daphne didn’t seem genuinely angry – perhaps just a bit annoyed.

"Relax, Greengrass," he replied, letting out a heavy breath as he grabbed his clean clothes. "It won’t happen again."

Daphne shrugged, her lips still curved into that sarcastic half-smile. "I’ll hold you to that."

She turned on her heel and walked out of the locker room, leaving Harry alone with the towel still firmly secured around his waist and his heart beating faster than he cared to admit.

~HP~

The unexpected encounter with Amelia in the locker room had left Harry with a headache he hadn’t anticipated. He spent most of the rest of the day trying not to think about the incident, but Daphne’s irritation made that nearly impossible. She had spent the entire patrol complaining about how she couldn’t trust him, how he was still “an irresponsible idiot” and how she really should have reported the incident to McGonagall.

Harry couldn’t understand why she was so upset. He wasn’t the type to care much about what people thought of him, but something about the way Daphne treated him bothered him more than he cared to admit.

To make matters worse, the immediate result was that he lost the night off that Daphne had generously granted him before the match. Now, on top of the intense training sessions, he also had to handle the night patrols, which left him even more exhausted and frustrated. He silently cursed Amelia more than once, even if he would never say it out loud.

That Friday night, the castle felt quieter than usual, the torches on the walls casting long, restless shadows as Harry and Daphne walked through the corridors, their footsteps echoing softly against the cold stones. Tomorrow would be the first game of the season, and Harry could feel the anxiety growing with every step he took. He needed to be rested, focused – and, above all, free from unnecessary distractions.

Since Cedric Diggory had graduated three years earlier, the Hufflepuff team hadn’t been as strong, but still, Harry knew better than to underestimate them. A solid win would put Gryffindor in a good position for the rest of the season, and he wanted to make sure they got off to a strong start.

They walked in silence, moving through narrow corridors and staircases that seemed to be shifting more than usual that night. Harry, already used to catching students out of bed, pulled back tapestries and opened doors with the practiced ease of someone who had used those very same hiding spots many times before.

He pushed a suit of armor slightly to the side, revealing a pair of fifth years who quickly broke apart, their faces turning crimson as their eyes widened in panic.

"Back to your common rooms, now," Harry said, his voice low but firm. "Before I decide to dock points."

The two students scrambled past him and Daphne, their hurried footsteps echoing down the dark hallway. Harry noticed that Daphne watched the scene with a mixture of disapproval and resignation, her arms crossed as she waited for them to disappear from sight.

“You’re really not going to talk to me?” Harry asked as they started to climb the stairs leading up to the Astronomy Tower, the steps creaking slightly under their weight. “I already told you, I had nothing to do with that.”

Daphne continued up the stairs in silence for a few seconds, her back straight and chin held high as if she had made up her mind to ignore him forever. But then, as they reached the top of the stairs and the cool night breeze brushed against their faces, she finally turned to face him, her blue eyes shining with barely contained anger.

“You broke my trust, Potter,” she said, her voice low but as sharp as a blade. “I was waiting for you for the final patrol while you and Amelia were... enjoying yourselves in the locker room.” She nearly spat the words, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Which, by the way, isn’t even allowed. I should have gone straight to McGonagall.”

Harry exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening slightly around the Head Boy badge pinned to his chest. “I already told you, she just showed up. I had nothing to do with that. I was ready to meet you.”

Daphne raised an eyebrow, the cold glint in her eyes intensifying. “That’s not what it looked like,” she shot back, her arms still crossed as if she was holding herself back from hexing him on the spot. “You’re always going to be that irresponsible boy who doesn’t care about anything but himself.”

Harry felt his blood rise to his face, anger bubbling in his chest. “Greengrass, for Merlin’s sake,” he said, his teeth clenching as he stepped closer, their faces just inches apart. “Do you really think I would do something like that? That I’d be stupid enough to risk my position as Head Boy for a casual fling?”

Daphne blinked, clearly taken aback by the intensity in his voice, but quickly regained her composure, her eyes narrowing once again.

“Honestly?” she said, her voice coming out as a whisper, but as sharp as the edge of a knife. “Yes.”

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again, his fists clenching at his sides. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, the muscles in his neck tightening as he struggled to keep his temper in check.

They stood there like that for a second that felt like an eternity, their breaths coming quickly, their eyes locked on each other as if waiting to see who would break first.

Finally, Daphne exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing slightly, though her eyes remained locked on his. She took a step back, her blonde hair swaying slightly with the movement.

“Finish your patrol,” she said, her voice returning to its usual controlled tone. “I’m not wasting any more of my time arguing with someone who clearly doesn’t care about the responsibilities they’ve accepted.”

She turned on her heel and began descending the stairs, her footsteps sharp and decisive, echoing against the cold stone.

Harry stood there for a moment, his chest still heaving as he watched her shadow disappear into the darkness of the corridor below.

He let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as he turned to continue his patrol alone.

He didn’t know exactly why her words affected him so much, but one thing was certain – that girl was starting to get under his skin in a way he could no longer ignore.

Harry continued his patrol alone, his footsteps echoing through the deserted corridors as thoughts clashed in his mind. He couldn’t shake Daphne’s words, the way she had accused him of being irresponsible, someone who didn’t care about the consequences of his actions.

Before he realized it, he had climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower, his leg muscles burning slightly from the effort. When he finally pushed the portrait of the Fat Lady open and stepped into the common room, he found it empty and silent, the flames in the fireplace crackling softly and casting dancing shadows on the stone walls.

He collapsed into one of the armchairs near the fire, his eyes fixed on the flickering flames as he tried to calm his racing thoughts. But no matter how hard he tried, the image of Daphne, her eyes flashing with anger and her lips pressed into a thin line, continued to haunt him.

Harry let out a slow breath, running his hands over his face. He needed to rest – the match against Hufflepuff was just a few hours away. But for some reason, he knew that falling asleep that night would be far more difficult than he would have liked.