The Grass Is Always Greener Ch. 7 (Patreon)

Notes: Chapter 2 of 'His Forbidden Flower' will also be posted later in the day. 

Content Warnings: Nothing.

Transfiguration Classroom:

“What’d I miss?” Harry whispered, skidding to a halt next to Hermione. Transfiguration wasn’t a class one wanted to be late for, but convincing Daphne to use crutches had been about as easy as getting Hagrid to understand that dragons did not make suitable pets. It had taken an hour of arguing, two falls, and one well-timed glare from Madame Pomfrey to finally get her to agree to use them.

“Where were you?” Hermione hissed. She sounded tense, but he had no idea why until he swept his eyes across the room. The classroom was devoid of all desks except for Professor McGonagall's. The professor herself was nowhere to be seen, which Harry thanked his stars for. She was one of the few teachers in the castle who was more than happy to hand out detentions to late-comers to her class.

“Helping Daphne. Madame Pomfrey finally released her from the Hospital Wing. Tracey and I helped her down to her Common Room because she refuses to use her crutches in public,” Harry hissed back.

“I was wondering where Davies was. Thought she didn’t like us anymore.” Harry looked back to Fred’s smirking face, his confusion only growing at the presence of the twins in the classroom. They weren’t the only ones out of place however, and he watched as every Gryffindor in the fourth year and above slowly streamed into the classroom.

“What’re you talking about? Why are you here?” Harry asked. Had he missed something? He’d been pretty preoccupied with nursing Daphne back to health, barely paying attention to his classes and doing the bare minimum he needed to avoid detention. It wasn’t like he had to give exams that year, but even if he had, his friend’s well-being would have still taken priority.

“No clue. They’ve been telling everyone to go to their Head of House’s classrooms.”

“Luckily for us, we just happened to have Transfiguration,” Hermione interjected, still sounding tense. “I think it’s some kind of test.”

“It’s not a test Mione. They’re not going to have fourth and seventh years give the same test,” Harry murmured, suppressing his urge to roll his eyes.

One of these days, I’m going to have to show Hermione there’s more to life than essays and tests.

Fred and George would be perfect in that endeavor. He turned to the twins, grinning, “Why were the two of you searching for Tracey?”

“Well, Miss Davies promised us a friendly game of Bludgering,” Fred said. Harry raised an eyebrow at the slight pink on George’s cheeks. Was there something going on that he needed to know about?

“Exactly. But she slipped us a note this morning saying she had more important things to do than hitting bludgers at two knuckleheads,” George added after a discreet elbowing from Fred.

“Really hurt our feelings, she did.” The tone of Fred’s voice made it clear that he wasn’t hurt in the slightest. Knowing what he did about them, and what he had learnt about Tracey over the past week, that kind of banter was probably how they talked all the time.

“Madame Pomfrey wanted to keep Daphne for another 3 days. She only relented when Daph threatened to crawl all the way to her dorms if she had to,” Harry replied, “It was all last minute.”

“We can’t fault Miss Davies it seems. I suppose ‘Daph’s’ company is far more preferable to ours,” Fred conceded with a grin, elbowing George again. It was Harry’s turn to blush.

It’s just an innocent nickname, and Daphne doesn’t seem to mind…

Besides, they were supposed to be in a fake relationship. Skeeter had put a giant crosshair on her back, and while he didn’t understand how pretending to date kept her safe in Slytherin, he also wasn’t the best person to second-guess their internal politics, so he played along. Using a nickname for her surely helped sell the lie.

“She is a fine young woman.” George nodded gravely. “Unfortunately for Miss Davies, her heart has been stolen by a-” George fished in the pocket of his robes to pull out a snippet of the article Skeeter had written. He had taken to carrying it around and reading parts of it dramatically every time he felt Harry needed cheering up. “A sensitive young man with a very tragic past.”

“Tracey can’t compete with a sensitive young man, now, can she, Forge?” Fred grinned.

“Sadly not, Gred.” George smirked.

“Fred, George. I swear-” Harry was cut-off mid-growl by Professor McGonagall’s stern voice.

“Potter, Weasley, Weasley,” Professor McGonagall said sharply. “Will you pay attention?!”

Harry turned away from the twins with a contrite look on his face. Hermione looked up as well, pausing her mumbled revision of all the spells they had learnt that term when she realized that Professor McGonagall had entered the classroom.

“Now that everyone has arrived and is finally paying attention, let me repeat what I was saying. The Yule Ball is approaching. It has always been a traditional part of the Triwizard tournament, and is an excellent opportunity to mingle with our foreign guests and build bridges. You’re all here because the ball is only open to fourth years and above-”

Lavender giggled.

Harry tried to suppress a smile as he watched Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flare. Parvati was furiously nudging her giggling friend, trying to get her to stop as their professor’s imperious gaze turned towards them.

“While the Yule Ball is a chance for all of us to… let our hair down.” Her scowl deepened, and Harry sensed that the professor, who he had never seen in anything other than her customary bun, would have a very poor opinion of anyone who actually took the opportunity to ‘let their hair down’. Lavender’s giggling only intensified at the implication behind Professor McGonagall’s words, and she wasn’t the only one. Half the room was trying to suppress grins at the thought of what the night would mean.

“However, I will be MOST displeased if any student in this classroom acts in a manner that embarrasses our house or the school in front of our guests. You WILL all be on your best behaviors.” Her eyes roved over to Fred and George when she said this. “Dress robes and gowns are mandatory. The ball will begin at six in the evening on Christmas Day, and last till midnight. Dancing classes will be held every day for an hour under my supervision till the Ball.”

Harry sighed. He wasn’t one for dancing, but if Daphne insisted they attend he at least wanted to make sure he wouldn’t make a fool of himself in front of the entire school. The dance classes meant he’d know what to do.

“That is all. You’re dismissed.”

Harry chuckled when he heard Hermione exhale.

“See,” he whispered, nudging her side. “Not a test.”

“It could have been!”

“Sure, Mione.” He knew better than to argue with her. He picked up his bag and turned, frowning at the heated whispering between the Twins. They’d been very secretive the entire term, and had refused to give him a straight answer when pressed. He opened his mouth to ask them what the matter was again, only to be interrupted by Professor McGonagall.

“Potter, I’d like a word with you.”

“Sure thing, professor,” Harry replied, turning back around and standing in place to let the crowd of students pass him.

“I have Arithmancy. I’ll catch up with you at lunch,” Hermione whispered, squeezing his arm before leaving.

Harry slowly walked towards the teacher’s desk, having a sinking suspicion that he was walking to his own execution.

“Now, Potter,” Professor McGonagall started in a crisp tone, and Harry knew she would be getting straight to the point. The thing he appreciated most about his head of house was her utter fairness and complete refusal to beat around the bush. “The Yule Ball is traditionally opened by the champions and their partners.”

“Opened?” Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times. He knew what it meant, but his mind decided denial was the safest place to be for now.

“Yes, Potter.” Professor McGonagall looked at him strangely. “The first dance is reserved for the champions and their partners.”

“While the rest of the school watches?”

“That is usually the case, yes.”

“I don’t know how to dance. I’m probably going to trip and Daphne’s going to kill me,” Harry mumbled, his heart hammering as panic consumed him. He was right. He had been walking to his own execution.

It was always a 50/50 chance on the tournament or Daphne killing me. I’ll ask her to make it quick.

“You will be going with Miss Greengrass, then?” If Harry didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn he could sense a hint of pride in her voice.

Harry nodded.

“Very well.” Definitely pride. Why was she proud he was dating Daphne Greengrass? If anything, he’d have expected her to disapprove. Half of Gryffindor had. Ron had even offered to apologize and mend their friendship, but only if he broke up with her. “Then I suggest you attend the dance classes religiously Potter. I can assure you, Miss Greengrass is a proficient dancer and if you embarrass her, she will most certainly… ‘kill’ you.”

Is she smiling?!

She was. Her lips had curled into the tiniest of smiles, and Harry knew she was enjoying the conversation very much.

“Of course, professor.”

“That will be all.”

“Thank you, professor.” Harry picked up his satchel and turned to leave.

“Oh, and, Potter?”

Harry paused, his hand still on the handle of the door. He slowly turned, preparing himself for yet another bombshell.

“Excellent flying.”

“Thank you, professor.” With a shy nod, he exited the classroom.

Potions Classroom:

Daphne grunted as she pushed open the half-ajar door of the classroom with her shoulder, the clicking of the crutches a constant accompaniment as she hobbled over to her head of house’s desk. She hated her new companions, but it was either them or staying in the Hospital Wing for another three days with only Peeves for company, and she was quite over having chocolate frogs chucked at her head.

“You summoned me, professor?” Daphne asked, looking into the dark eyes of Severus Snape. She didn’t flinch or retreat when his face morphed into a scowl, holding his gaze.

He hadn’t bothered to get up to help her (not that she had expected him to), but not offering her a place to sit was a dick move, even for him.

“I called for a mandatory meeting of all Slytherins in years four to seven. You were absent.”

“As you can see professor, I was rather indisposed.” She refused to let him bully her. By the end of the year, she’d make sure Harry felt confident enough to stand up to him as well. “But Tracey filled me in. I shall be on my best behavior for the Yule Ball, I do not need dance lessons, and I already have a partner.”

“You are going with Potter, I presume.” Daphne chuckled internally at the look of apoplectic rage on the man’s face. One day, she would get Harry to tell her why Professor Snape hated him so much.

“It would be odd to go with someone other than my boyfriend, professor.”

“I thought he tried to break-up with you.”

“We mended fences. While the ups and downs of young love certainly makes for compelling drama professor, I think you have no business interfering in my personal relationships. Or did I miss the part where my head of house gets a say in who I date?”

She tried not to smile as he skipped anger and went straight to incandescent rage. “I am simply looking out for your best interests,” Professor Snape said tightly.

“So is Harry. And I can assure you professor, he is much better suited to take care of my needs than you are. Now, if that is all, I will take your leave. I have been advised not to stay on my feet for long periods of time, and this classroom seems to have a regrettable lack of seating.” She looked pointedly at the two chairs in front of his desk before turning and starting to leave.

“As your head of house, I have written a letter to your parents informing them of your activities. While the Headmaster might have absolved you of any wrongdoing, I considered it my duty to keep them informed of what their daughter gets up to at school and the kind of company she keeps.”

“Oh, I know,” Daphne said as she hobbled towards the door, not bothering to look back. “My father wrote to me telling me how proud he was of his daughter’s skill and quick wit. After all, not many people survive encounters with a dragon.” She finally turned when she reached the door, her face breaking out into a smirk. “Oh, and professor?” She paused, only continuing when Snape raised an eyebrow. “My mother might not have said as much, but I can promise you, she has already started to plan the perfect wedding.” With that parting shot she left, chuckling quietly at look of utter shock and fury on her professor’s face.

The Courtyard:

Hermione and the Twins had all been conspicuously absent for lunch, so Harry instead sat with Neville and Tracey. It was a quiet, quick affair, with none of them particularly interested in eating. The entire table, in fact, the entire hall was abuzz with news of the Yule Ball, with reactions ranging from angry disappointment from Ginny at being barred from attending to giddy excitement from Lavender at the thought of all the people who could potentially ask her to the Ball.

Harry had simply followed Tracey’s lead and inhaled a sandwich before helping her pack a lunch for Daphne, discreetly slipping two pudding cups into the bag. Tracey had refused to let him add them, declaring that Daphne needed to be cut off if she was to fit into her dress. He noticed Neville watching and winked. He grabbed the bag and started to walk out of the Great Hall before Tracey discovered his deception.

“Oi! Wait up! She’s not in her dorms,” Tracey shouted, her satchel flying behind her as she ran to catch up with Harry and Neville.

“Where is she?” He paused and turned, a confused look on his face.

“Unicorn enclosure. Said she needed some time there to wash off the unpleasantness of her encounter with Professor Snape.”

“What encounter?” Harry asked as he turned and started walking towards the sunny courtyard, motioning for Neville to follow him.

“Oh, that’s alright,” Neville protested, blushing when Tracey grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

“Absolutely not, Longbottom. You’re the rare Gryffindor who I find tolerable,” Tracey said, pulling him out into the courtyard along with them. She ignored his question, and he let the matter lie. Daphne was more than capable of handling Snape.

“What about George?” Harry asked shrewdly.

“He’s detestable. Worse than you, Potter, and that’s saying something.”

Harry chuckled.

If I was a betting man I’d bet my entire vault on these two going to the Ball together.

“What about you, Neville?” He asked, turning to his friend as they slowly made their way through the courtyard. “Who are you asking to the Yule Ball?”

Tracey chuckled as Neville immediately turned a dark shade of red.

“Uhm… well… I was thinking of asking Ginny t-to Hogsmeade…” he stammered, fiddling with his thumbs nervously. “And to the Yule Ball too. I-if you’re okay with it?”

“We broke up nearly a year ago mate, and it was amicable. We just realized we’re better off as friends so there’s no hard feelings if you want to ask her out,” Harry replied with a kind pat to Neville’s back, “Although you might want to skip out on the Yule Ball with her, because that’s fourth years and above only. Sneak out to Hogsmeade or something that night.”

“Or you could go with someone as friends. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a date.”

Harry smiled at the suggestion. After all, that was what he and Daphne were doing.

His smile turned into a frown at the sight of a small crowd of men following a familiar head of blonde hair. It took him a minute, but Tracey’s snort of derision and the subtle tug he felt towards the girl as they walked closer made him realize just what was happening.

“Fleu-” He called out, stopping halfway through the name when the girl turned. She wasn’t Fleur, but he had seen her with the Beauxbatons champion on several occasions. Her sister.

What’s her name?

Fleur and he had talked about their families in the tent before the First Task and she had mentioned her name.

Right. Gabrielle.

“Gabrielle!” He shifted slightly to shield his face from the crowd, mouthing ‘Play along’ in her direction.

Her slight nod was enough permission for him to proceed, and he elbowed through the crowd, giving her a fake smile.

“Sorry it took so long. Gabrielle, I’d like you to meet Neville. Neville would love to accompany you to the Yule Ball as friends,” Harry said, looking at Neville pointedly.

Neville now resembled a beetroot, but he glanced towards the crowd of students eagerly hanging onto every word of the exchange and quickly understood the assignment. “I’d l-love to. I-if you’d like me to,” he stammered, rooted in place and as stiff as a board.

Gabrielle studied the trio shielding her from the crowd for a minute, before smiling. “I would love to. As you can see gentlemen, I already have a date. Thank you for your interest.” With a slight bow she turned and walked off towards her carriage, ignoring the loud and disappointed groans. A couple of Ravenclaws seemed to appear to want to approach Neville, but a glare from Tracey was enough to send them scampering along with the rest of the crowd.

“What?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at the strange expression on Tracey’s face.

“Well, neither of you turned into simpering idiots around her. I just thought it was interesting.”

“Neville stuttered,” Harry pointed out with an amused smile. He looked at his friend, still frozen in place with wide eyes.

“That wasn’t the allure. That was just him being his usual sweet self,” Tracey said, patting Neville’s arm. “Come on, Longbottom. You don’t want to face the wrath of a hungry Daphne Greengrass.”

They found Daphne with Binky’s head in her lap. She was feeding the foal a pear, running her fingers through his mane as the unicorn harrumphed in contentment.

“You know, one of the many things a boyfriend is supposed to do is bring his invalid girlfriend food. That’s not a best friend’s job,” Tracey groused playfully, dumping the bag in front of Daphne.

“What would be a best friend’s job, Trace?” Daphne asked, grinning at Harry when she discovered the pudding cup he had hidden for her.

“Snatching things like pudding cups to make sure their bestie fits into her ballgown,” Tracey said, swiping the pudding cup from Daphne’s hands.

Harry chuckled and sat down next to Daphne under the tree. Tracey sat opposite them, and after a moment’s hesitation, Neville followed suit and flopped down next to Tracey.

“I’ll fit just fine,” Daphne replied, scowling at Tracey.

“You already have a ballgown?” Harry asked, pulling out the second cup from the bag and passing it to Daphne.

“You’re a bad boyfriend,” Tracey grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I have three. I might wear one of them, or buy a new one to match my partner’s robes.”

“Partner?”

“Yes, the one I’ll be going to the Yule Ball with.”

“I thought we were going together.” Harry frowned.

“Why?” Daphne asked, turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “You haven’t asked me.”

“Do I have to ask you even if we’re dating?”

“You’re right Trace, Harry is a shit boyfriend.”

“Your fault for dating a dumb as rock Gryffindor,” Tracey replied, moving to lie down on her face, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight on her face.

“Daphne, will you go to the ball with me?” Harry asked quickly, trying to prevent any more fun at the expense of his dignity.

“No.”

“But you just-”

“Woo me, boyfriend. Sweep me off my feet,” she teased, a huge smirk plastered on her face. Daphne popped a spoonful of pudding in her mouth, leaning back against the tree and closing her eyes. “You don’t get a ‘yes’ till then.”

Notes:

Daphne is obviously Lady Potter, but we also met Lady Black for the first time in this chapter. Guess who? (Hint, it's not Tracey or Hermione.)