Two Times Harry and Daphne Almost Kissed and the One Time they Did

Content Warnings: So Sweet it'll Give You Diabetes.

“And one last thing before you go!” Professor Lockhart beamed at a wary class, completely oblivious to their discomfort. “Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day! I have a special surprise planned for everyone. Minstrels will roam the hall, delivering love notes to your loved ones. Take advantage of them! I wonder how many I’ll receive?” He tapped his chin. “A hundred?”

The blonde man leaned over and winked at Daphne.

“I’m quite popular with the ladies, you know?”

Daphne suppressed the urge to freeze the man’s blindingly white teeth and shatter them with her fist. Even if her type was phony blonde men (it wasn’t), she had a homegrown, age-appropriate one waiting for her in Slytherin. She had no need to go looking for one. 

The thought of sending Malfoy a Valentine’s message made her want to puke. She exchanged a quick glance with her best friend.

Tracey shrugged and rolled her eyes.

Typical.

Daphne tuned out Professor Lockhart and focused on the problem at hand. Why couldn’t men hit on Tracey for a change? 

She was too busy for what hormonal boys wanted. Beating Dumbledore’s record of being the youngest Supreme Mugwump was no easy task, and the last thing she needed was a scandal in the tabloids ruining her political career before it began.

A scandal like… a badly written confession shouted by a minstrel in a Hogwarts hallway.

Daphne groaned.

“Don’t worry, young lady! The minstrels will let you keep the note after reading it out loud so you can have a memento of your love.”

“Right,” Daphne muttered after momentary confusion. “Thanks,” she added just as the bell rang, signalling the end of their class.

Daphne dumped her books into her satchel and ran out of the class before anyone could speak to her. She was determined to avoid everyone for the rest of the day and slip out of Slytherin at dawn the next day. That was exactly what she did, leaving a note for Tracey to ensure her best friend wouldn’t start worrying for her safety. There were strange goings-on in the castle, and the last thing she needed was a manhunt for her because Tracey thought she was missing.

She grabbed a blanket, pillow, and enough books to keep her occupied for the entire day and made her way to her favourite nook on the fourth floor. It was a cosy alcove covered by a tapestry describing Shakespeare’s plays. Warm, hidden, and peaceful. She spread out her blanket and curled up on it, looking forward to a day of skipping classes and relaxed reading. 

Her peace lasted for exactly three hours. The sound of the tapestry being pulled to one side made her turn, and before she could object, Harry Potter walked inside and hastily pulled the tapestry back into place.

“What’re you doing?” Daphne asked coldly. “How did you find me?”

The man was smarter than the rest, she had to give him that. He had come in person to deliver his confession instead of using minstrels and was doing so in private instead of out in the hallway surrounded by people. He’d still get a verbal lashing for his efforts, but she decided to spare him physical pain. 

“I didn’t know you were here.” 

Harry immediately raised his hands in surrender and froze in place. Smart man, indeed.

“Why are you here if not to talk to me?”

“I’m trying to hide from one of those flying things.”

“A minstrel?” Daphne cocked an eyebrow. Her lips curled into an amused smile. It made sense that Potter was flooded with notes. “Why?”

“Ginny sent one to me at breakfast.” The tips of Harry’s ears turned red. “Half the school heard her poem. I don’t want a repeat performance, okay? Let me hide here for some time, please. I won’t bother you.”

“It could be from someone else.”

“I still don’t want it.”

Daphne gave him an appraising look. He seemed sincere. Besides, she reminded herself, if she kicked him out, there was every chance he’d tell others where she was hiding. She couldn’t have that.

“Fine. But I’m not sharing my blanket.” Daphne propped herself up against a wall and pointed to the bare stone floor close to the tapestry. “No talking. I want to finish reading this treatise before lunch.”

“Okay.” Harry sat down cross-legged on the floor and leaned against the stone wall, closing his eyes. He stayed silent for a few minutes before piping up, “Why are you here?”

“I thought I said no talking,” Daphne said without looking up. She adjusted the reading glasses on her nose and flipped a page.

“Sorry.”

“I’m hiding here for the same reason. I don’t need an idiot with a tiny penis and a smaller brain ruining my career by attaching my name to his.”

“You’re still in Hogwarts.”

Daphne looked up at him with raised eyebrows. She had to admit, the dumb puppy-dog look of confusion on his face was adorable. 

“You’re never too young to work for your political career. If a minstrel delivers a confession, people will talk. And then, when I don’t go through with a marriage, it will hurt my prospects in Wizengamot,” Daphne explained with a faint smile.

“Do you want to be Minister of Magic?”

“Too boring,” Daphne answered. “I need to be the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot by thirty-three.”

“Why?”

“Because...” Daphne sighed, surprised at the amount of patience she had to answer his questions. He wasn’t dumb, he clearly understood her reasoning. That certainly helped. The fact that his interest seemed genuine also contributed to her desire to answer his questions. “Professor Dumbledore was elected to the position at the age of thirty-four. If I want to be the youngest Supreme Mugwump in history, I have to beat that record.”

“You’ll do it.”

“You seem awfully confident for someone who doesn’t seem to know anything about politics or the Wizengamot.”

“You’re smart, and you’re dedicated.” Harry leaned over and patted the heavy book on her lap. “Sure, Hermione might get slightly better grades, but you scare people.” 

“And that helps me how?”

“You can get the good people to vote for you because you’re smart and will make a good Mugwump.” Harry shrugged. “The rest you can scare into voting for you.”

“Maybe I should make you my campaign manager,” Daphne chuckled. He was silly, but she found herself liking his particular brand of humor. “You can stay here as long as you like, Potter.”

“So… about that idiot with a tiny-”

“Don’t make me reconsider my decision to let you stay.”

“Sorry.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Idle curiosity.”

Daphne nudged her stack of books towards him. “Pick up a book and start reading. You won’t be idle.”

She watched Harry pick up the book at the top of the stack and flip it to a random page.

“Is it Malfoy?”

“How did you know?”

“I, uh, overheard him talking about you once.”

“Have you?” Daphne snapped her book shut and turned to Harry. “What’d he say?”

“That he likes you.”

“Harry,” Daphne smiled sweetly. “Have you ever had a foot rammed up your ass?”

“…no?”

“Would you like to find out how it feels?”

“He said you’re very fit and he looks forward to correcting your bitchy attitude after you get married.”

“I’ll marry the giant squid before I let Malfoy touch me,” Daphne huffed. “Bloody arsehole.”

“How do you know he’s got a-” Harry mimed a small penis with his hands.

“Have you ever taken a look at his hands?”

“Never had any reason to. A hand can tell you something like that?”

“Show me your hand.” Daphne didn’t wait for his response. She leaned over and grabbed his right wrist, pulling his hand close to her. “Huh. Interesting.”

“What?” 

“Nothing.” She released her hold on his hand and turned back to her book.

“What’s interesting?”

Before Daphne could answer, the sound of fluttering wings shattered their peaceful seclusion.

“It says she’s right here.” The high-pitched voice of a minstrel pierced the tapestry. 

“He can’t find me,” Daphne hissed.

Harry sprang into action. He leapt up and bent on his haunches, leaning over her and blocking her view of the tapestry with his body.

“What’re you doing, Potter?!”

“Quiet,” Harry ordered harshly. He waited until the minstrel pulled the tapestry aside and then began to make loud smacking noises with his lips. “Ooooooh,” he moaned loudly, attracting a giggle from the hallway. Nobody could see her, but his messy black hair was unmistakable. 

“Daphne Greengrass?” the minstrel squeaked. 

“Oi!” Harry roared. “Dunno who that is. Leave us alone!”

“Sorry!” The minstrel shot out of the alcove, and the tapestry fell back in place. “It says she’s right here… stupid compass!”

Daphne’s heart was hammering in her chest. She’d never been this close to a boy before, and her brain had picked this exact moment to realize Harry Potter was ridiculously good-looking. She wondered how he got the tiny scar above his upper lip.

“Sloppy technique, Potter,” she squeaked in an attempt to regain the upper hand. “Do you slobber over every girl you kiss?”

“Dunno.” Harry shrugged. “I’ve never kissed a girl. Never been kissed by one, either. Always thought it would be kinda wet.”

Daphne leaned up and pecked his cheek. 

“There. See? Was that wet? Did I sound like I was eating your cheek?” Daphne smiled. “Now go away and let me read in peace.”

Harry grinned and retreated to his corner, grabbing a book on magical creatures on his way. 

They spent the next few hours reading silently, only leaving once the sun had set and their hunger was unbearable. It was one of the best days of Daphne’s life. 

                                                                                  ---

“Do you want to tell me about her? She looked ready to kill me with her bare hands,” Sirius whispered. He smiled and nodded to the blonde walking in front of them with Professor Lupin, his excited expression completely at odds with his sunken features.

Harry stumbled over an exposed root, and only Sirius’ hand grabbing his cloak stopped him from planting his face in the mud. He busied himself with dusting his cloak, glad that it was too dark in the tunnel for people to notice his pink face.

His relationship with his godfather had taken a turn ever since they’d come face-to-face, and he had learnt the truth behind all the stories. He looked at the simpering man Professor Lupin had chained to himself with disgust. 

“Don’t look at the ugliness of life when there’s such beauty around you,” Sirius whispered and nudged his shoulder.

Harry’s blushed deepened. His eyes darted to Daphne. Her long hair was curled up in a bun on the top of her head. The pale strands shone like silver in the faint light emanating from Hermione’s wand. 

“Daphne’s just a friend.”

“That’s what your father said about your mother right until the day he married her.”

“Surely not!”

“Slight exaggeration, but it gets the point across. When are you going to ask, Miss-” Sirius turned and looked at Harry with raised eyebrows.

“Greengrass.”

“She’s a Greengrass?” Sirius chortled. “Best of luck.”

“What? Why?!”

“Greengrass women are famous for not letting anything come between them and what they want.”

“Well, she doesn’t want me,” Harry muttered. He clambered up the hole and onto the moonlit Hogwarts grounds before turning around and helping Sirius do the same. “She wants to be the youngest Supreme Mugwump in history. We’re just friends.”

Harry helped Hermione pull Ron out of the tunnel, then the trio dragged Professor Snape’s unconscious body out as well. A panicked shout pulled their attention away from their unconscious professor.

Daphne was bending over a prone and groaning Professor Lupin, trying in vain to comfort the groaning man. Pettigrew was nowhere to be seen. 

Sirius was the first to realize what was happening, and Harry was not far behind. 

“Get Daphne away from him and run! I’ll distract him!”

Within seconds, the man had transformed into a massive black dog and tackled the half-man, half-wolf away from the confused girl before the werewolf could fully transform.

“Come on,” Harry yelled. He slowed to grab Daphne's wrist and pull her to her feet, dragging the stunned girl with him. 

“Werewolf…” she mumbled, glancing up at the full moon in the sky. “I forgot…”

Daphne didn’t have any difficulty keeping up with him as they sprinted across the grounds and only stumbled over the occasional rock. Harry paused to ensure she didn’t fall, turning to check on her every time they stopped. Her face was red, with beads of sweat running down her forehead despite the cold night. Blonde strands that had escaped the bun on her head clung to her damp skin. 

“Will they-” Daphne mumbled as howls and growls pierced the stillness of the night.

“Sirius has kept him in check before. They’ll be fine. Come on," Harry muttered. He pulled on her wrist and began running, only stopping once they’d reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest. 

“I can’t…” Daphne wheezed. “Can’t… run… more.”

“Come on. We should be safe here. I hope Hermione and Ron got away safely.” Harry collapsed below a massive oak tree and pulled Daphne down with him. “How could we forget it was a full moon tonight?!”

“It’s not… your… fault.” Daphne curled up and took deep breaths. “Nobody remembered.”

“Pettigrew got away,” Harry whispered as he had the horrible realisation that the man responsible for his parents’ deaths had gotten away again.

“We’ll get him,” Daphne said as she straightened. Her gray eyes blazed with determination. She reached out and grasped Harry’s hand, gently squeezing it. “We’ll hunt him down and drag him to Azkaban personally if needed.”

“Thanks.” Harry twisted his hand and laced their fingers together. “You didn’t have to run into the tunnel behind me. That was a stupid decision.”

“That’s a strange way to say thank you, Potter.”

“Thank you, Daphne.” Harry smiled. He gently pushed a lock of damp hair away from her face. “You need to start jogging with me every morning.”

“Piss off, Potter,” Daphne muttered. She instinctively scooted closer to him as a howl rang across the grounds. It was followed by another howl, and then another, each sounding closer than the last.

“We need to run.” Harry jumped to his feet and tugged on their joined hands.

“In there?!” Daphne clambered to her feet and tried to pull Harry away from the dark and foreboding forest.

“Yes!”

“It’s dangerous!”

“You’ve gone inside with me before!”

“It was during the day, this is different.”

“It’s the same forest!”

“I’m… I’m scared of the dark,” Daphne mumbled.

The latest howl was too close for comfort. The lights on Hagrid’s hut blazed in the distance, but they were too far to make it.

Harry pulled Daphne into a thick bush.

“Harry, I’m not kidding when I said…” Daphne struggled against Harry’s grip. “This is too dark, Harry. I can’t-”

“Shh!” Harry clamped a hand over Daphne’s mouth. He pulled her into his side and wrapped his free arm around her protectively. The howling had gotten closer, and Harry was certain Professor Lupin could smell them. “I’m going to distract him. Run.”

Harry removed his hand from her mouth and pushed it into his cloak. He felt a surge of power as his fingers wrapped around the polished wood of his wand. He could do it. The only thing that mattered was keeping his friends safe.

The howling got closer and closer, but a werewolf never pounced on them in the bush. Instead, within seconds, the howls were replaced by enraged growls. 

Harry peeked through the bush and saw Sirius leading Professor Lupin deeper into the forest and away from them. 

He heaved a sigh of relief and slumped onto the ground, taking a second to compose himself before he turned to look at Daphne. She was trembling, curled up with her arms locked around her legs and rocking to and fro.

“Daph… Daphne…”

Harry gently grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the bush. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder, clinging tightly to him. “I’m here. It’s okay. Close your eyes and imagine yourself in the Wizengamot. Malfoy has just said something stupid, and you’re about to tear him a new one.”

“You always know just the right thing to say,” Daphne whispered tearfully after a few moments. “I’m sorry…” 

“Don’t be. Everyone has something they’re afraid of.”

“Not you.” Daphne pulled away and looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “You’re afraid of fear itself.”

“I still have no idea what Professor Lupin meant by that,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “It’s stupid. There are plenty of things I’m afraid of. I was terrified that he’d hurt you," Harry whispered.

“You saved me.”

“Had to repay the favor,” Harry murmured.

“I let you hide last year, but you saved me from the minstrel,” Daphne whispered. She rested her forehead against Harry’s. “That made us even. Now I owe you one.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to make us even again,” Harry whispered, licking his dry lips. They were too close for comfort. He felt like he would spontaneously combust as he stared at her lips. 

What if he just leaned in and kissed her? What would it feel like?

Kinda wet, probably.

A shrill, familiar scream caused him to freeze. 

“Hermione!”

They clambered to their feet, but Harry grasped Daphne’s shoulder, stopping her from following him.

“Run to Hagrid’s hut and get help,” he said before running headlong into danger.

                                                                              ---

Whoever wanted him dead had to be displeased. He had done much better in the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament than even he had expected, completing the task with a near perfect score, a moderately serious burn on his arm, and a wounded shoulder.

The other champions seemed to have fared much worse. Madame Pomfrey alternated between him and Cedric. Half of Cedric’s body was covered in burns, and his fellow champion seemed to need the healer’s attention much more than him. 

“Where is he?!” 

Harry looked up from his cot just in time to see Daphne burst into the hospital tent. The Slytherin was uncharacteristically animated as she stomped into the tent, followed by a bemused Hermione.

“He’s going to wish that Horntail had eaten him because I’m going to-” Daphne stopped dead in her tracks as she passed his cot. “Harry,” she whispered, all anger seeping out of her voice.

“Hey, Greengrass,” Harry smirked. He’d gotten used to her threats. Two years of listening to them had transformed them from scary to adorable. He loved the way she scrunched up her nose every time she was upset. “What are you going to do?”

“No bodily harm in my hospital tent!” Madame Pomfrey warned, completely unfazed by the outburst. She placed a tray of salves and bandages on the stool next to Harry’s cot. 

“Can I take care of Harry, Madame Pomfrey?” Daphne asked. “I’m sure you have your hands full with the others.”

Madame Pomfrey appraised Harry’s injuries for a moment before she nodded. 

“Apply burn salve to his arm and the tincture of newt to the wound on his shoulder before bandaging both. Call me if you need any help.”

Daphne silently pulled a stool next to Harry’s bed and sat down before beginning to fiddle with the supplies in the tray.

“What’s up with her?” Harry asked, looking up at his best friend.

“She wants to kill you. I told her to get in line.”

“No murder in my hospital tent either,” Madame Pomfrey said reproachfully from across the tent.

“Why… ow! What’d I, ow ow ow, do?!” Harry gasped. Daphne continued to dab the salve on his burn mercilessly. “Daph, can you stop for a minute?”

“Pauses are for people who agree to forfeit and accept a zero. You don’t deserve a pause,” Daphne muttered tearfully. “Did you stop to think what would happen to people who loved you when you did those insane tricks?! I know it’s not your fault! But I… I couldn’t… I just had to watch…”

“You love me?”

“That’s the part you focus on?!” Daphne said. She progressively turned redder, choking on her words. “I could throttle you right now, Harry Potter.”

“You know, Mister Potter, kissing is an acceptable activity in my hospital tent,” Madame Pomfrey said as she walked by.

Harry and Daphne looked up at each other at the same moment, both sporting identical blushes and shy smiles. 

“Kiss her, idiot. Men,” Hermione snorted. “Emotional range of a teaspoon.”

Harry leaned in, afraid that Daphne would back away. She stayed in place until their lips met. The kiss was short, quickly broken when Daphne grasped his uninjured shoulder and pushed him back onto the bed.

“You’re hurt, and you need medical attention. Don’t try to distract me, Potter,” Daphne grumbled. Her scolding tone was completely at odds with the massive smile on her face. She began to hum happily as she picked up the salve and began reapplying it to his arm. 

Harry grinned and stared up at the ceiling, wondering how he’d break the news to Sirius. 

His godfather had been right. Nothing in life felt as good as kissing Daphne. 

Notes:

Something to mark my return to writing. A short and sugary treat for our favorite couple, Haphne. I've never written a story like this but I've been inspired to branch out recently and I dunno, I needed something sweet in life. As cute as this is, it won't be a full story, but I've been curious about exploring Harry and Daphne's relationship earlier and later in life. I wonder what their life would be like after the war, when they're both older. Maybe I will write another short story about their wedding?