The Grass Is Always Greener Chapter 4 (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Nothing.

If she had a heart, she was sure it would have stopped by now. They had tried to prepare for every eventuality, but could one really prepare for a creature twice the size of the knight bus trying to rip you in half?

Judging by Potter’s performance, she didn’t think so. In the interest of complete fairness, he was doing much better than the other champions, all while facing the worst dragon of the lot. He’d helped Diggory, and what was the reward for his compassion? Having to face a rampaging Hungarian Horntail while the Hufflepuff got away with squaring off against the tamest of all four dragons. Her… friend… fake boyfriend… something… truly had the worst luck.

Just goes to show that no good deed goes unpunished, she thought grumpily, forcing herself to watch as the boy dodged around the makeshift arena. He weaved through the space between the large boulders, trying to avoid being cooked alive by dragon fire.

“If you die after making me a social pariah, I swear to Merlin I’ll bring you back to life just so I can kill you again Potter,” she mumbled, glaring at the Weasley twins for daring to look back at her. They simply smirked and winked before returning their attention to the fight unfolding below them.

The gall of Gryffindors.

She might just kill Potter even if he did survive the task. He had blabbed. He had to have blabbed. There was no other way for that vile woman to know the exact details of their conversation with Karkaroff and print them on the front page for all to read.

But if he told someone, the annoying rational voice in her head spoke up, why didn’t she expose the fact that the two of you were just pretending to be a couple?

“Because,” she mumbled, “writing about Romeo and Juliet is going to get her far more readers than a stale expose. I mean, would anyone even be surprised a Triwizard Champion is cheating?”

“Are you talking to yourself?” Hermione whispered, sounding about as tense as she felt.

“Yes, Granger. I’m losing my mind,” Daphne hissed back.

“Glad I’m not the only one.”

Being mad at Potter for something that probably wasn’t even his fault would have been so much easier if her two new friends hadn’t been so nice to her. The forced separation of Gryffindors and Slytherins was finally starting to make sense. It’d be a lot harder for her classmates to hate them if they knew they were just idiots. Goofy, kind, brave, and absolutely moronic idiots.

And they? If Potter and Granger were any indication, they’d warm to the Slytherins once they realized not all of them were stuck-up, pompous, evil gits. Perhaps a healthy rivalry would forever exist, but she doubted a section of the stands would have cheered when a champion from their own school got mauled by a dragon.

She could not watch. His shoulder was torn open, and he was bleeding. She was going to be sick.

Why aren’t you summoning your broom?

What in Merlin’s name was he waiting for?

“You’re so close,” Hermione hissed, her nails digging into the skin of her cheeks. She too, Daphne presumed, was forcing herself to watch the travesty unfold below them.

Close to what? The nest is meters away from him!

“Did the two of you change the plan without telling me?” She hadn’t meant to sound so accusatory, but since she had basically tied her fortune and future to Harry Potter’s continued survival, she felt she more than deserved an answer. She had some skin in the game, after all.

“What? No,” Hermione hissed. “He can’t do wandless magic yet. Not on purpose. Especially not to cast a spell he’s spent just two weeks learning.”

Wandless magic? It wasn’t even in the plan she had laid out!

Get into the arena. Check, she mentally noted.

Climb up to the highest point in said arena and summon his broom. Slightly derailed by a spiked tail slamming into Potter’s shoulder, but still salvageable. Why isn’t he trying to climb up again? She thought, her eyes widening when she finally spotted it.

The thin strip of wood was lodged between two rocks by the dragon’s right foot, probably knocked out of Potter’s hand when he’d been hit by the tail. He didn’t know how to do wandless magic. Merlin’s balls, not even Granger or I can do wandless magic yet.

All the dragon had to do was take a step, and Harry Potter would be consigned to certain death. She was nauseated again, her stomach roiling as she bit her lower lip in worry. She could not watch, yet she forced herself to. Her hands gripped the edge of her seat, nails digging into the wood, causing tiny splinters to break off and embed themselves into her skin. She could not bring herself to care.

He was moving closer, closer to both the dragon and his wand. It seemed destiny had decreed that her new friend would find salvation only by running headfirst into mortal danger. She groaned quietly as he ducked behind the last remaining rock between himself and the dragon, the creature blanketing the boulder with flame hot enough to melt steel. She turned to look at the judge’s stand, scowling at the impassive expression on their Headmaster’s face. Uncaring. Unkind. Unworthy. At least Professor Snape cared about the students he liked.

If Potter really is his Golden Boy, I’m a unicorn. The man doesn’t care about anyone, she thought, snapping her head back to its original position at the sound of loud groans around her. Even the continuously chattering redheads in front of her had fallen silent.

Her eyes frantically searched the arena, her heart sinking into her stomach when she realized the dragon now stood where he had been moments ago, the crunching sound of her jaws crushing something reverberating around the unnaturally silent arena.

She stumbled out of her seat, not caring to stick around and see what happened next. A hand clamped to her mouth she fled, stumbling down the steps in a daze. She collapsed on the damp grass of the grounds around the stadium, gasping as she desperately tried to make sense of what had happened.

It had always been a fool’s hope, the unkind voice in her head reminded her. A tempest of emotions swirled within her, threatening to drown the exhausted girl.

Grief, for a new friend she’d never thought she’d make.

Fury, at herself for getting attached.

Incandescent rage, at the man who could have stopped it all, but didn’t lift a finger to protect or help his student.

She got up, deciding to snag a bottle of firewhiskey on her way to bed.

Cheering.

Why are the fuckers cheering? I swear, if this is Malfoy-

She turned back to the stadium just in time to catch a glimpse of the broomstick shoot through the stands, the magically fortified wood making quick work of any obstacle in its way.

She paused, frozen in shock. The exhaustion of the past two weeks and the excitement of the day itself finally took their toll, and Daphne stayed rooted to the ground, staring at the clear skies as her brain tried to make sense of what was happening.

The man is a bloody cat. I swear he has nine lives, she thought watching him dart into the skies followed by the dragon. The dragon roared and snapped its jaws shut once more, a futile exercise. Its roar, however, did spur her into action, and she turned, running after the dragon and the boy it was chasing, trying to keep up as best she could.

She didn’t know what possessed her to act so recklessly, but careful meticulous planning had gone out the window ever since she’d acted on her impulse and first approached Harry Potter in the library all those days ago. Now it appeared that she had transitioned to working on gut feeling, and right now it very much wanted to help Harry Potter.

“Wonderful,” she gasped, stumbling through the grounds. While she was much more conscious of physical fitness and agility than most of her Pureblood counterparts, there was no way she could have kept up with a man on a broomstick or the dragon chasing him. Yet, she persisted, every muscle in her legs burning. She looked up as she ran into the castle courtyard, watching as the dragon chased him around one of the towers.

Harry Potter was an amazing flyer. Perhaps the best the school had to offer in a generation. She stood in the courtyard, hunched over, hands on her thighs, watching him try to disorient the dragon. There was almost something hypnotic about the way he looped around the spires and through the tiny windows, the dragon growing visibly frustrated at the futile chase. She watched, eyes wide as the Horntail slammed her tail into the Astronomy Tower, sending the top half of its roof plummeting to the ground. Stone, metal, and tiles slammed into the ground inches away from her, finally spurring her into action. She leaped in the opposite direction, trying to put as much distance between herself and the falling debris. Dust swirled around her, obscuring her view of the boy and the dragon chasing him.

The dragon appeared to be sending a message to its would-be prey. No more games.

She pulled out her wand, ignoring the burning in her lungs. He was faster and infinitely more nimble than the dragon. He could complete the task. All he needed was for the dragon to be distracted for a few minutes. She could give him that.

She stumbled out of the dust cloud, coughing and squinting her watery eyes as she turned her head back towards the skies, trying to spot the duo. He was leading the dragon away from the castle and back towards the stadium, probably worried about hurting the odd soul who had decided to skip watching the task.

Why? Why do you have that stupid hero complex? Use the castle to your advantage!

She didn’t waste her time trying to get him to change course. It was futile. He was probably too far away for her to reach, and she was already struggling to breathe. Instead, she raised her wand, shooting the nastiest hex she could think of at the dragon. While the curse did not cover the great beast in boils, it did hit her squarely in the jaw and get her attention.

Mission accomplished.

It was only then that the girl realized the extent of her mistake. She was standing all alone in the middle of an empty field that offered exactly zero places to hide and had just drawn the attention of a very angry dragon towards her. She turned to look back at the castle and the rubble-filled courtyard, then at the lake in front of her.

Expulsion or Death? She had only seconds to decide.

In the end, she chose the possibility of a painful death as the less horrifying option, sprinting towards the lake as fast as she could. The dragon had completely changed course, apparently having decided to pursue the easier prey. She roared, and Daphne prayed to Morgana to make sure Potter wouldn’t look back and think to try and rescue her instead of completing the task. The messy bun she had secured her hair in collapsed as she ran, golden tresses flying everywhere, obscuring her vision and making it hard to see where she was running to. It didn’t matter. The lake was in front of her, and she had to get in before the dragon caught up with her.

She didn’t stop, and she didn’t give in to the temptation to look back and see where the dragon was. The roars and the heat from the flames that occasionally coated the land behind her were proof enough that she was close by. Daphne had had a sizeable head start, but she wondered if it was enough to reach the lake before the dragon caught up with her.

If I die helping a Gryffindor, they’ll probably put up a portrait of me in the Common Room as the worst Slytherin ever to exist.

She could feel her feet sink into the wet sand of the beach by the lake just as the dragon unleashed another torrent of fire behind her, finally close enough to singe the back of her legs. She didn’t pause to think, simply took a deep breath and jumped into the frigid waters of the lake, trying to dive as deep as she could. She’d bought Potter a few minutes, and for someone as good with a broom as he was, it was enough. She began to swim upwards once the dragon’s roars grew fainter, the mother evidently having realized that she’d lost her prey, her maternal instincts prompting her to return back to protect her nest.

Daphne clambered out of the lake and collapsed on the shore, too exhausted to do anything for a fair few minutes. She was soaked, bleeding, and burnt, all for a boy she wasn’t even friends with at the start of the month.

“This is the last time I act on one of my idiotic impulses,” she mumbled, ignoring her injuries in favor of walking back to the stadium as fast as she could. The roaring had stopped, and the dragon was nowhere in sight. It could only mean one of two things…

She stumbled through the entrance, dimly registering the cheering crowd. Potter was standing in the arena, now thankfully devoid of the dragon.

All this for a fucking golden egg? She thought, studying the item he had cradled in his arms. She turned to the judges as the clapping increased in tempo, watching Crouch form a ten using the golden ribbons he had conjured from his wand.

Yeah, you better give him a ten you ill-tempered ass. He’s earned it.

Potter wasn’t watching the judges, however. His eyes searched the stands until they finally landed on her. He smiled, which she responded to with a small nod.

She turned to look at judges to see how the rest had scored him, only for her knees to buckle, her head swimming. The dizzy girl leaned against a pillar, her body refusing to cooperate as the adrenaline that had kept her going for the past fifteen minutes finally ran out. She could feel a pair of arms wrap around her, helping her into one of the changing rooms.

And then, darkness.