A Helping Hand Chapter 2 (Old Chapter Unlocked For All Patrons)

Content Warnings: Fingering, Semi-Public, Orgasm Denial, Teasing, Gags, Playful!Fighting

It was frustratingly difficult to find a moment alone with Daphne. He didn’t want to be seen with her, not when the shitheads in her House held so much power over her. Until he could get her out of her current situation, their meetings would have to remain hidden from prying eyes. 

After two days of trying, Harry had to resort to his old tricks. His invisibility cloak, an alcove, and a bald-faced lie to an indulgent professor were the basis of his plan, not that he had high hopes of it succeeding. Daphne had to be alone, she had to pass by the alcove, and most importantly, he had to make sure she didn’t make a sound. The last thing he wanted was to make her life more difficult than it already was.

He leaned against the bare stone wall behind the linen tapestry with his eyes closed. At least the Twins’ puke pasties had worked splendidly. Professor Slughorn had immediately excused him; now he simply had to wait for the class to finish and for everyone else to leave. If things went to plan the small cracker he’d dropped by Daphne’s cauldron would explode and create a mess. 

Harry perked up at the sound of a door opening which was followed soon after by footsteps and the chatter of groups of students. He walked to the edge of the tapestry and pushed it aside, peeking out into the corridor. He grinned at the sight of a familiar mane of bushy hair. Hermione was explaining the day’s homework to Ron. Nothing new there. He couldn’t see Daphne in the crowd. Had she stayed back? Had he missed her?

They had Defense Against the Dark Arts next, but they’d share no other class for the entire day. There was no point trying something in Defense, not when Snape was already out for his blood. He’d just have to try another day if his plan had failed.

Just as he was about to give up hope and leave, Daphne emerged from the classroom, cursing under her breath. He dropped the Invisibility Cloak and gently pushed it out of the way with his foot. Once he’d made sure no one in the hallway would witness what he was about to do, he reached out and grabbed Daphne’s arm, dragging her behind the tapestry. A hand clamped over her mouth and stifled the scream bubbling in her throat.

He leaned closer, his breath tickling her skin as he whispered, “Don’t! Someone will hear. It’s me.”

Daphne tensed in his arms for a second before she relaxed and slumped against his chest. She sighed once he pulled his hand away from her lips.

“Is this my next punishment?” she whimpered. Her voice was hoarse and Harry could feel her trembling in his arms. “I’m trying my best, I swear. I know you’re watching me at mealtimes but it’s hard to eat when that odious prick is-”

“Hush.” Harry pushed his thumb over her plump pink lips. His eyebrows shot upward when she timidly parted them and took it into her mouth. He silently wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, letting her worship his thumb with her tongue. Once he’d thought she’d sufficiently relaxed, he tried to pull it free but she whined and sucked on it, trapping his thumb in place.

“Does it calm you down?”

Daphne nodded shyly.

“This isn’t a punishment. I’m sorry. I wanted to talk to you and this was the only way I could think of,” Harry murmured. “I didn’t want to make your life more difficult than it already is.”

Daphne blinked and tilted her head to look up at him, silently thanking him for his thoughtfulness.

“You ruined my cauldron,” she murmured, pouting around his thumb.

“Sorry. I’ll get you a new one.”

“And my O?”

“What O?” Harry teased.

“I was going to get an O for my potion before my cauldron sploded,” Daphne mumbled. “Now I have an E and Granger has an O. She gets better grades than me, you spend more time with her-”

“I’m not with her right now, am I?” Harry cut her off. He pulled his thumb free from her lips, ignoring her disappointed whine. She finally released his thumb and let him pull his hand away after kissing its tip. He wiped it dry on her skirt as she wriggled playfully in his arms. “Where am I?”

“With me,” Daphne smirked. “What about my grade?” 

“Do you think you deserve an O, Miss Greengrass?”

“I think I deserve all the Os, sir.”

Harry chuckled. The girl in his arms was a firecracker when not scared or consumed by self-hatred. 

The hand around her waist shifted and slowly pushed between her thick thighs. His smile grew when his fingers brushing against her soft skin elicited an audible gasp. Her legs parted instinctively, allowing his hand to slip underneath her gray skirt. He snaked his way up her thigh, the tips of his calloused fingers stroking her womanhood over the thin cotton barrier that separated the two.

“But you just told me you haven’t been good,” Harry whispered. “Only the bestest of girls get Os.”

“I’m trying,” Daphne whispered. Her hand reached down and grabbed his wrist. Harry tried to pull away from her but she pushed his palm against her slick lips with a happy sigh. “I’m sure I’d perform better with some… encouragement.”

“Do you remember what your safeword is?”

“Mugwump,” Daphne smirked.

“And when to use it?”

“My ass is still sore!”

Harry chuckled at the slight wiggle of her butt that accompanied the tinge of alarm in her voice.

“What about your thighs, pretty caterpillar?”

Daphne hummed in his arms. He liked that nickname for her. She was a caterpillar, undecided on who she wanted to be and flailing for a cocoon to protect herself from the world.

“You can spank thighs?”

“I can spank a lot of things,” Harry murmured as his free hand ghosted over the curve of her chest. Daphne’s breath hitched. “But the safeword isn’t just for when you’re being punished. You use it whenever you’re uncomfortable with what’s going on and want me to stop.”

“Did you take one too many bludger knocks to the head?” Daphne bent her knees and pushed her weight onto his palm. “Do you think this is making me uncomfortable?”

“Is that how you talk to me, Miss Greengrass?” Harry growled.

“I’m sorry,” Daphne tilted her head up and batted her lustrous eyelashes, “I won’t forget your title in the future, sir. Did you take too many bludger knocks to the head, sir? Do you need me to get Granger in here to explain why a woman might find your touch pleasurable, sir? Your concern for me is so adorable, sir.”

“You’re sassy.”

“And you’re a cocky Quidditch star with a penchant for danger and chaos but I don’t go around pointing out your flaws, do I, daddy?”

Harry’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of her breast. She bit her lower lip but couldn’t quite stifle the whimper bubbling in her throat.

“Careful. You’re on thin ice, princess.”

“I told you the punishment wouldn’t take.”

“A refresher sometime this week might be in order.” 

“When?” Daphne asked breathlessly. “Can I have you for an entire night? I can make another donation if necessary, I heard Mungo’s needs funds for a new burn ward.”

“Greedy,” Harry tutted. He pulled his hand out from under his skirt, ignoring her disappointed cry. “I don’t know yet. I have something for you.”

Harry pulled out the enchanted coin he’d snagged from Hermione’s stash and slipped it into her skirt’s pocket.

“The coin is enchanted. It’ll vibrate whenever I write to you, so don’t keep it somewhere that’s noticeable. This way we can talk without any risk to you.”

“Did I mention that you’re adorable?” Daphne asked, her hand shifting for her thigh for a brief second to feel the coin. “Because you are.”

“Hush.” 

Harry’s hand disappeared under her skirt once more but this time it kept making its way up, up to the hem of her knickers. 

“I told you. No underwear.”

“You told me to leave one pair behind, not that I couldn’t wear any at all,” Daphne pointed out. “Whatever did you do with it?”

“Don’t worry. It’s safe,” Harry murmured as he pushed the simple white cotton piece down her creamy legs. “White again, Miss Greengrass?”

“Didn’t know you’d corner me today, sir,” Daphne mumbled. She stepped out of the underwear when prompted and shook her leg to free her ankle from it. “Another symbol of your conquest?”

Harry silently bent and picked up the damp, sweet-smelling cloth and pressed it against her lips. Her gray eyes widened but she obediently opened her mouth and allowed herself to be gagged. 

“I asked you to hush,” he whispered, leaning close to her once more. His lips brushed against her ear and he couldn’t resist himself. His teeth clamped around a soft and inviting earlobe, his tug rewarded with a sweet, desperate, and muffled moan. “You’ll be my conquest, Miss Greengrass. Eventually,” Harry murmured once he’d released her ear. “Tell me, what happens when there’s a conquest?”

“Bhelongs. Yhou,” Daphne mumbled thickly.

“Eventually.” Harry wound his feet around her ankles and pulled her legs apart, entangling them together. Neither could stand without the other’s assistance. “No more underwear. If I catch you wearing any, I’ll confiscate the pair. After all, a diligent student is always prepared for surprise tests. You want as many O’s as you can get, don’t you?”

“I-Yhes-OH!”

Harry’s thumb located her clit within seconds. As it explored the sensitive nub, his fingers lazily pushed into the tight, wet embrace of her core. Her walls fluttered around the calloused digits. He was already struggling to push into her with two fingers but then he decided to add a third, curling them up against her intact curtain and stretching her walls. 

“I hadn’t planned to do this.”

“Dhon’t… stoph…”

“I have no intention to. You’re so wet already, princess. Are you wet for me?”

Daphne shook her head furiously. She bit down into the sopping wet fabric stuffed into her mouth but no gag could have stopped the needy moans that escaped her lips. Trails of drool leaked out of the corners of her lips and dribbled down to her chin. Gravity took its course and they ended up splattered on the hand massaging her perky breasts.

“No? Are you sure you weren’t spying on me in Potions like you do in the Great Hall? Looking at me when you think I won’t notice, imagining all sorts of dirty little fantasies?” His fingers gently pistoned in and out of her and Harry sincerely hoped no one was outside the alcove. There would be no muffling her gasps. He idly wondered if Daphne was a screamer. He’d find out, sooner or later. “Did you touch yourself the night I spanked you?”

“…nho?”

“Liar,” Harry hissed and was rewarded by a sliver of arousal gushing out of her and coating his palm. “You touched yourself. You came then and you’re not going to cum for me now. Know why?”

Daphne nodded weakly.

“Why, pretty caterpillar?”

“Ghood… ghirl…”

“Mhm. And what do good girls do?”

“Lhisten!” Daphne cried. She trembled in his arms. Her thighs pressed into his hand, trapping it in place as she attempted to freeze the moment forever. If she couldn’t have her release, she wanted to stay like this, forever.

“You’re going to find some privacy after the next class and you’re going to touch yourself. If you cum, you have to tell me what your fantasy was the next time we meet.” 

“Yhes, dhaddy,” Daphne groaned. He kept going, toying with her clit and the rock-hard nipples that poked through the thin white fabric of her blouse. The fingers in her pussy hadn’t slowed one bit. But he expected her to remain in control, to stay on the edge but not fall off. And she would. He knew she would. She was his good girl, his pretty caterpillar who was just looking for her place in the world.

“Are you going to cum?”

“Nho.”

“What was that?” Harry asked again and tugged the damp knickers free from her mouth. His nail grazed against her clit and she froze in his arms, her breathing ragged.

“No!” she screamed once his thumb began to massage the throbbing nub. She bit down on her lip with enough force to draw blood and he had to gently tug it free.

“Don’t bite your lip.”

“Sorry, sir.”

The finger caressing her bleeding lip found a home in her mouth even as the ones, on the other hand, stayed buried in her cunt. He pulled them out and she slumped in his arms, even though she couldn’t help but groan in disappointment.

“I’ll test the limits of your obedience some other day,” he teased, wiping his fingers on her skirt. He gently extricated his hand from her mouth and pocketed the scrunched-up underwear. 

“Harry?” Her voice was soft, ragged and uncertain.

“Yes, Daphne?”

“I don’t want you to keep seeing me just because you feel bad for me.”

“I feel a lot of things when I look at you, caterpillar, but pity isn’t one of them,” Harry whispered. He bent and gently pecked her lips. “Better get cleaned up before you come to DADA. Don’t want to walk into Snape’s classroom reeking of sex.”

“So this wasn’t pity sex?” She leaned into the kiss, her hands finding his and holding on for dear life. She stayed like that, her lips brushing against his and their foreheads brushing. “I’ve told you that I don’t want your pity.”

“This wasn’t any kind of sex, princess. Trust me, when I take you, and I will take you; there won’t be any pity involved. Just a whole lot of moaning and a tiny bit of begging.”

With a wink and a smirk, he left. 

                                                                                     ---

Most people thought it was just a mark. Most people were idiots.

The brand on her wrist was so much more than a simple tattoo. It was a taint that might fade with time but would never wash off. It corrupted her soul and twisted her emotions and soon enough she’d know nothing but fear and anger and hatred. 

She only hoped she looked half as good as Bellatrix when she too was driven out of her mind. Years of worshiping an uncaring master did that to a person. She could feel the mark’s influence as she stared at the back of Harry’s head. 

It fueled her rage. It was a strange sort of anger, existing not because of who he was. The mark, after all, was impersonal and not tied to Voldemort’s person. It did not make her hate Harry. It simply heightened her emotions and that scared the normally self-assured girl more than anything. For she found herself glaring daggers at the bushy-haired girl Harry was talking to, wishing bloody murder upon her.

How dare Granger monopolize his time and attention? Did she not get enough of it during the long and cold nights trapped together in that blaster tower of theirs? Selfish, arrogant woman. Wouldn’t even leave crumbs for others.

Pah!

She shook her head and glared at Draco, summoning morbid satisfaction when his unhealthy visage paled. She knew her worth. She was the elder Greengrass, blood of two ancient and noble families ran in her veins. She did not whimper to men and yet…

Her eyes flickered over to Harry again. Her tongue ran over her lips, savoring the ghostly aftertaste of her arousal.

A pity then, that Potter wasn’t the kind of master that desired power and worshiping sycophancy. He simply craved adoration and attention, two things Granger was more than willing to provide.

Daphne balled her hand into a fist and slammed it onto the desk. It made Tracey jump and her best friend looked over to her with a furrowed brow.

“Daphne,” she murmured, reaching out and placing a comforting hand on her arm. Daphne resisted the urge to shrug it away. She wasn’t worthy of her touch. “Is everything alright? Are you still upset about what happened in Potions?” She followed Daphne’s gaze. “Or is it about your, uh, appointment? Was it bad?”

“It was okay. Not exactly what I was expecting,” Daphne hummed noncommittally. She’d spoken the truth, if one bent the truth to the point of breaking. “He’s not what I was expecting.”

Before Tracey could question her about it, the arrival of their professor made all further conversation impossible. Professor Snape swept into the classroom in ostentatious black robes, sporting a scowl that seemed to be a permanent fixture these days.

“Good afternoon.” His scowl deepened at the mumbled greetings he received. “Since you reprobates have somehow managed to make it two months without blowing yourself or someone else up, I think it’s time we moved to more advanced magic.”

Snape pulled out his wand and sent chalk flying to the blackboard behind him with a silent flick.

‘Silent Spells.’

“I doubt any of you will ever be good enough to hold your own in a dueling club, let alone an actual fight,” he sneered. “But should you find yourself in that unenviable position, can someone tell me what advantage you might gain by silent casting?”

Granger’s hand immediately shot up. The girl practically jumped out of her seat in her eagerness to answer.

Professor Snape ignored her and Daphne’s grim satisfaction turned back into a bubbling rage when she saw Harry reach out to pat her arm.

“Anyone?” Professor Snape asked.

Before she was conscious of her actions, she found her hand up in the air. 

“Yes, Miss Greengrass?”

“You don’t give your opponent advanced warning. They don’t know what’s coming and will thus find it harder to counteract your spells.”

“Excellent. Ten points to Slytherin. Can someone tell me a fallacy associated with this reasoning?”

Hermione’s hand shot up again and she was ignored, again.

“Perhaps you can elaborate, Miss Greengrass, for another five points?” Professor Snape asked silkily.

“It’s only foolproof if you’re a decent Occlumens. It’s difficult to use Legilimency in the chaos of battle but not impossible.”

“Quite right, Miss Greengrass. Take ten points instead of five.”

Daphne basked in the praise. If Harry wasn’t going to give her attention (she knew she wasn’t being fair, he had his fingers knuckle deep inside her not ten minutes ago but she wasn’t in a mood to be charitable) she’d get it from somewhere else. 

“Since most of you morons,” his eyes rested on Harry and Daphne frowned, “will be unable to achieve any level of competency in Occlumency, you’ll never be truly safe. Silent casting is still a useful skill and it is what we’ll be practicing today.”

Her anger at Snape for insulting Harry (however indirectly) turned into anger at Hermione for daring to reach out and take his hand. It grew and bubbled in her chest and she found her wrist burning as she followed everyone’s lead in pushing their chairs away from their desks and getting to their feet.

Professor Snape flicked his wand again and the desks and chairs piled up against the walls, creating space in the center of the classroom. 

“Split yourselves in groups of two. One will attempt to attack, the other will defend. Both shall be done silently. I will deduct five points for every spoken spell.”

Her feet were moving. Her body had a mind of its own. She found herself pushing between Harry and Hermione, her gray eyes looking up at his soul-destroying green ones with a silent challenge.

“Sorry Daphne, Harry and I were-”

“Weasley is trying to partner up with you,” Daphne cut Hermione off with venomous sweetness. “Better partner with him or he’ll be in just as much trouble here as he was in Potions. Professor Snape is far less forgiving than Professor Slughorn.”

“I-”

“Don’t worry. I won’t ruffle a single hair on the Golden Boy’s head.” She reached out and flicked a fringe away from his eyes. “He’ll be returned to you safe and sound.”

Hermione glanced at Harry but he simply nodded. He waited until she had left before he turned to Daphne, his beautiful eyes full of playful mirth.

“You’re being sassy again,” he murmured.

“What’ll you do? Punish me in front of the entire class?”

“Maybe I will.”

“Go on, then. Do your worst,” she whispered. She stepped away from him and joined the others on the opposite side of the classroom. 

“I think I’m supposed to defend.” 

Morgana, she hated that disgusting smirk. The way his lips curved perfectly, leaving tiny upturns on either side that begged for attention from her lips. 

Why did he have to be so good? And his heavenly fingers, Merlin, she had to stop herself from staring at them. They were tightly wrapped around his wand in anticipation of her attack. Ah! The slender wand was covered in fingerprints.

Finally, a flaw she could criticize. She focused on the wand, letting it be the conduit for her complicated emotions.

She loved his attention. She hated his kindness. She adored his fingers. She detested his popularity. She wanted him and couldn’t have him, so it was safer just to hate him.

Yet, yet she couldn’t. 

“Greengrass?”

“Just deciding if you’re going to throw a tantrum after I hand you your ass on a silver platter, Golden Boy,” she snarked. “I’ve had a hard day and I don’t want to deal with a petulant man.”

“Do you think you can defeat me in a duel?” Harry cocked his head. “I look forward to it.”

“Twenty points from Gryffindor for speaking, Potter,” Snape interjected, effectively destroying their banter.

Daphne could barely conceal her scowl as she glanced at the Head of her House. She wasn’t blind to his favoritism, but his hatred of Harry was egregious! How could he tolerate such blatant abuses of power?

Was he just that passive? Her gaze shifted to him. No. While he was outwardly calm, only she could see the slight tightening of his lips, the disappearance of his easy-going smirk that indicated he was not happy about what was happening but knew better than to say anything. 

She wondered what had happened to cause such a change. Last year he couldn’t get enough of fighting Umbridge. A losing battle but she had reeled out the bait and he’d taken it every single time.

“It’ll be fifty points if you keep lounging around, Potter.”

Daphne’s wrist itched and she suppressed the sudden desire to direct her spells at her professor instead of her sparring partner. Surely Harry would appreciate the bit of quiet that’d accompany a freezing hex on Snape’s lips.

“Every duelist worth their salt knows to take care of their wand.” Daphne flicked her wrist. A simple levitation charm, designed to pick him up and dump him on his ass. 

Let’s see how he likes a sore bum!

Harry waited until the last possible moment before turning his wrist and blocking her charm with a basic shield. 

Poser. 

She narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. He wasn’t going to make it easy for her, it seemed.

“My turn-”

Before he could finish speaking, she had shot off a Stinging Hex. It slammed into his chest and he doubled over, gasping in pain. Her wand slipped from her grasp and she took a step towards him. 

A fatal error.

He straightened and even though his face was contorted with pain, shot off a Stunning Hex in her direction. The jet of red light raced towards her and she only managed to block it at the last possible second, leaving herself open to further attacks.

He refused to press his advantage.

She growled. It was bad enough that she had to suffer his pity in private, now he heaped on her the indignity of putting up with it in public as well?

She’d remind him she wasn’t made of glass. A sore bum and a bruised ego weren’t enough to break a Greengrass.

Stinging Hex.

He blocked it this time.

Blasting Hex.

Blocked, again.

Bat Bogey. Freeze Charm. Skin Crawler Hex.

Blocked, blocked, and blocked again.

He stayed on the defensive the entire time, blocking everything she threw at him with apparent ease. She gritted her teeth and pressed the attack, her brow furrowed in concentration as she silently shot off every hex and curse she could think of. She was tiring, silent casting was an endeavor of immense skill and concentration that quickly drained all but the best duellers.

She refused to leave the arena without getting a reaction out of him. 

“Expelliarmus!” she finally shouted, unable to help herself. A jet of pulsating red light shot from the end of her wand and slammed through the weak shield silently conjured by Harry. She watched in grim satisfaction as his wand flew out of his hand and clattered to the floor behind him.

“You win,” Harry smiled.

Gods, she wanted to kiss that smirk. 

“Doesn’t count. I said it out loud. Your turn to attack me,” Daphne said. She was breathing heavily and had to pause to wipe her brow with the sleeve of her blouse but she had assumed a fighting stance within seconds, ready to go again.

“I’m disarmed.” 

“Pick up your wand, Potter,” Daphne growled.

Harry jerked his hand and his wand flew into his waiting palm. 

“What’re you doing?”

“Dueling, just like Professor Snape asked us to.”

“We dueled. You beat me.”

“Shut up and fight me.”

“Is that what you really want?”

Daphne glowered and shot off a Freezing Hex in response. 

There. That’ll answer his stupid question.

Harry flicked his wand and a bench raced to intercept the curse. It froze solid and crashed into the ground, the sound audible even over the din of the classroom. The pairs closest to them turned to see what was happening.

“You’re angry,” Harry murmured.

Damn right, I’m angry! 

Daphne whipped her head to push stray locks of blonde hair away from her eyes. He hadn’t reacted, hadn’t pressed his advantage, hadn’t done anything except wait for her next move.

She growled and shot off a Blasting Hex. He sent a chair flying to intercept it. The chair exploded and showered Weasley and Bulstrode with fine wood dust.

“Why are you angry?” Harry asked softly.

“Shut up and fight.”

“It helps to know what one’s fighting for.” He flicked his wand and blocked her Expelliarmus with a shield. “What’re you fighting for?”

“Maybe I just want to see the perfect Golden Boy on his ass!”

“You don’t have to fight for that.” Another chair, another hex intercepted. He didn’t retaliate. He was moving closer, putting himself at a disadvantage by reducing the time he had to react to her attacks. “That can be easily arranged.”

Half the class was watching them now, watching him humiliate her without so much as casting a single hex in anger.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Harry murmured.

“Duratus Oculi!”

Harry flicked his wand and sent a book to intercept the spell. It froze and fell to the floor, shattering on impact. 

“Lumos Grandis!”

Daphne instinctively shut her eyes to protect herself from the flash of bright light. She groaned as Harry tackled her and by the time the brightness disappeared and she found it safe to open her eyes again, she was on the floor with his hand on the back of her head to protect it from impact. He was on top of her, his knee sinking into the softness of her belly and wand pushed against her neck.

“Do you yield?”

“Never.”

“Why are you angry?”

“Why won’t you fight me?”

“I just did. You asked me to fight you and I did. My way.”

Everyone was watching them. All conversation had ceased and every single student in the classroom had turned to look and hear their exchange in enraptured silence. Daphne could see Professor Snape pushing through a crowd of students reluctant to make way for him at the far end of the classroom.

“You disgust me.”

“That’s rich, Greengrass. At least I don’t belong to a House that worships a conman with delusions of grandeur.”

“Any man I follow will be worthy of my loyalty and adoration,” Daphne said, looking up at him with serious gray eyes. 

Their conversation was interrupted by Snape pushing through the crowd and making his way to them.

“Detention, Potter,” Snape said silkily. “You’ll spend every Monday evening for the next month repairing the damage to my classroom. By hand.”

“Worth it,” Harry whispered, eliciting a quiet giggle from Daphne. He reached out and grabbed her hand, helping her to her feet. 

“Potter, stop harassing Miss Greengrass. Get away from her before you earn yourself detention for another month.”

Harry winked and withdrew to the Gryffindor side of the classroom divide, leaving Daphne with a bruised bum, an aching heart, and a whole mess of conflicting emotions. She noticed Malfoy staring at him with narrowed eyes but she couldn’t care less about what the weasel was thinking. 

Harry was infuriating, cocky, arrogant, and a walking red flag for someone like her. It was best for her physical and emotional well-being if she stayed far, far away from him. She needed to be a good little soldier for the shitweasel who owned her soul, wait for the war to be over and pay her penance. 

As if he could sense her treacherous thoughts, the coin he had given her gently vibrated at that exact moment in the pocket of her skirt. She glanced at him. He had quickly scribbled something on a piece of parchment and flung it into his bag before Granger and Weasley could see what he’d written, brushing off their questions with a laugh.

He’d laid out the bait and she reached out and grabbed it like a starving fish. Her hand pushed into her pocket and closed around the coin, surreptitiously pulling it out.

What did it matter if barbs sank deep into her metaphorical flesh? She’d at least be happy until she was devoured.

She made her way to her bag and glanced at the message on the coin before slipping it into her satchel.

‘If you’re that interested in a real duel, meet me after dinner on Friday. Same place.'

Notes:

Me looking at Haphne: I just think they're neat! No, but seriously. Forbidden love has always been a trope I've been interested in and I think I finally get to write a story with lots of juicy sneaking around! Let's go! Also in this story, Harry is a skilled duelist but not OP. At least, not right away. He has a lot of innate talent but still needs a lot of practice and experience. As fun as it is to write a power trip, it's a lot more fun when its earned. Plus, this way we gets lots of 'training' scenes with Daphne and Harry. If you catch my drift...