The Grass Is Always Greener Ch. 8 (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Nothing.

The Great Hall:

“Harry, do you have a death wish?” Hermione asked irritably, watching him shovel porridge into his mouth.

“Shorry,” Harry mumbled after swallowing a spoonful of porridge. He picked up a napkin, using it to wipe his lips clean. “I have dance lessons in fifteen minutes, then Potions. And then I have to go put the finishing touches on my proposal to Daphne. Tracey is going to bring her around after lunch, and I still haven’t finished the corsage. Thank you for that idea, by the way, she loves flowers.”

“Just not roses,” Hermione teased wryly. Harry groaned, nodding quietly before returning his attention to the bowl in front of him. Daphne had playfully rejected every proposal of his so far, giving him a different reason for refusing every time. His last attempt, a note slipped into her bag with a rose had been rejected because; ‘roses are unoriginal and insipid, and only a fool would think they were romantic.’

He knew she had every intention of going to the Ball with him. That she had turned down the few brave souls who had attempted to approach her despite their relationship status now being common news throughout the castle was proof enough of the fact. She just enjoyed watching him run around, trying to come up with new ideas for a proposal.

Tracey had told him it ‘amused’ her.

“I don’t get it. Why do you have to propose to her if the two of you are already dating?” He didn’t like hiding the truth from Hermione, but the only person they had let into the secret so far had been Tracey, and they had mutually decided to keep it that way. The more people they told, the greater the risk of the truth being revealed.

Not to mention the fact that his best friend had a big problem with ethically dubious things.

“Because I didn’t ask her to be my girlfriend. Not properly, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Greengrass had a thing for you and took her chance and snogged you in the Forbidden Forest,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes, repeating the story Harry and Daphne had concocted for all their friends except Tracey.

“And Daphne said something as important as the Yule Ball merits a proper and romantic proposal even if two people are dating,” Neville added, slipping into the bench opposite them. He wasn’t alone. Gabrielle slipped in next to him, smiling and waving at Harry.

“Mate, if you’re taking her side too…” Harry said, groaning dramatically.

“It sounds logical. I bet Hermione would like whoever ends up asking her to do the same,” Neville said with a shrug.

“I…uhm… I already have a partner,” Hermione squeaked, blushing furiously.

“That’s news to me. Who?” Harry asked, turning to his best friend with a grin.

“W-well, if you hadn’t been running around like your hair's on fire, maybe you’d have noticed,”  Hermione deflected, quickly getting to her feet and grabbing her bag. “I’m late for Arithmancy. Talk to you later.”

Harry exchanged a bemused glance with Neville as Hermione practically ran out of the Great Hall.

“Uh… Harry?” Neville asked, his cheeks pink.

“Yeah, mate?”

“I-I promised Ginny I would, you know, have breakfast with her? But uh… those Ravenclaw boys won’t leave Gabrielle alone-”

“They’re pigs,” Gabrielle interjected, biting into a scone.

“Right. Which is why I brought her here. Do you mind keeping her company so that I can… you know…” he trailed off.

“Sure thing.” Harry laughed. When Neville hesitated, he leaned over and pushed his shoulder. “Go. It’ll be alright.”

Neville gave them both a radiant smile before stumbling out of the bench and walking over to where Ginny was sitting, waiting for him.

“Neville is a good man. I am glad we are going to the Ball as friends,” Gabrielle said, munching on her scone delicately.

“You might want to ask him to join me in taking dance lessons though. As you’ve probably noticed, his coordination isn’t the best and I doubt he knows how to dance any more than I did.”

“Then we shall stumble around together, Monsieur Potter.” When Harry raised an eyebrow, she continued. “I am not one for dancing either. I do not know how to formal dance, and I do not care to learn. That is my sister’s thing, not mine.”

“Why are you attending the Ball?”

“Madame Maxime is forcing us all to attend. Every student has to be present to represent Beauxbatons,” Gabrielle replied, scowling.

“So, you don’t enjoy dancing. Fair enough. What is your thing?”

“Flying,” Gabrielle answered immediately, her eyes gleaming. “I am a Chaser for my club in Beauxbatons. The thrill, the freedom, it… it is without compare!”

“I’m a Seeker for Gryffindor,” Harry replied with a grin.

“AH!” She exclaimed. “I should have guessed from the way you flew during the First Task. I was watching your performance. You are very good. My eyes could be mistaken… but that was a Firebolt you flew on, was it not?”

“Thank you. And yes, it was. A gift from my godfather.” He pushed away his empty bowl, politely waiting for her to finish so they could leave together.

“I am done if you want to leave. English food does not agree with me.” She swallowed the remaining piece of the scone, getting to her feet. Harry followed her lead, sprinting around the table to catch up with her.

“I have a small request if you don’t mind?” she asked as they walked out of the Great Hall.

“Ask away.”

“Could I ride your broom sometime?” Gabrielle asked, pausing and turning to him when they reached the large open doors of the castle. “I have never had the pleasure of riding a Firebolt before.”

“You can ride my broom anytime.”

Both of them blushed at the same time as they realized that they had been playing around with a very obvious innuendo. Gabrielle ducked her head, letting her silvery-blonde hair fall forward and cover her face.

“Uh-uhm… yeah. Just let me know which evening is suitable for you, and I’ll bring the Firebolt down to the grounds,” Harry said after an awkward pause. He cleared his throat before adding, “It’s an amazing broom.”

“I have heard. Tomorrow evening, perhaps?”

“Works for me!”

“Thank you, Monsieur Potter,” Gabrielle gave him an excited smile before turning around and striding out of the castle.

This Ball is turning us all into idiots, Harry thought, quickly making his ascent up to the large empty classroom that Professor McGonagall had requisitioned for her dance lessons.

The castle had gotten increasingly boisterous as the last week of the term progressed. Proposals (and rejections) were flying around, and it wasn’t too uncommon to see the odd person crying in a hallway or running to the Hospital Wing after being hexed. Nobody was paying attention to classes anymore, with every classroom turning into giant rumor mills as people exchanged gossip about who was going with whom. Some teachers, like Professors Flitwick and Sprout, had entirely given up on teaching, allowing the students to gossip away while they worked on their own projects or chatted up their favorite pupils. Professors McGonagall and Moody were neutral in this regard, not changing course, but taking care not to pile extra coursework on the students unlike the current bane of Harry’s life.

Snape had taken a personal affront to Daphne shooting down his suggestion that she break up with Harry, and the lack of censure from her parents had incensed him even further. He had never met Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass, but Daphne had shown him their letter, and they seemed like they were smart people. Exactly the kind not to fall for Snape’s lies. All of this had left Snape in an utterly foul mood, and he had vindictively assigned them three essays and a surprise test, all in the last week of the term.

The joke’s on him. Daphne is going to be my partner for that test. She’ll crave him up like a turkey if he dares to give our perfect antidote a failing grade.

Daphne was second only to Hermione in their class when it came to brewing potions. He had started pairing with her instead of Hermione recently, thus making sure Snape couldn’t criticize his best friend’s flawless potions and protecting himself from detention, effectively killing two birds with one stone.

He pushed the matter out of his mind as he reached the classroom. The door was already open, and Professor McGonagall was leading a bashful Seamus around the makeshift dance floor. He quietly slipped into the crowd of students, deciding he had more important things to concentrate on for now than a petty man who seemed hellbent on destroying his life for something his father had done.

Hagrid’s Hut:

Daphne burst into Professor Hagrid’s hut. She hadn’t bothered to knock, which was highly unlike her, but the note she had received had merited her total lack of manners. She paused, doubling over and wheezing for breath. Not even Fang running over and sloppily licking her hands did anything to cheer her up.

She stumbled to an armchair, sinking down on it, her legs too weak to hold her up. While she had thankfully stopped needing her crutches to walk, she was still not back to her full strength. She took a second to catch her breath before looking up at her bushy-bearded professor.

“Yer alright there, Miss Greengrass?” He asked, pouring out a cup of tea and slamming it on the table in front of her.

“Fine, thanks,” Daphne wheezed, ignoring the tea. “What happened to Binky, professor? He was fine yesterday!”

Professor Hagrid lowered his eyes, which only caused her to panic some more.

“Err… yer best go look for yerself,” he mumbled, nervously tugging on his beard.

“Right.” She got back on her feet, unsteadily walking out of the hut. She turned right, making her way down the well-trodden path she used at least twice a day to visit her favorite creatures. She knew she wasn’t supposed to have favorites, but Binky had been hers. She had helped with the unicorn’s birth and cared for him daily without fail. If something had happened to him…

She found Tracey waiting for her at the entrance to the enclosure.

“I got your note. I’m here. What happened to Binky?” She asked, holding her sides as she gasped for breath.

“Merlin, woman, I didn’t mean for you to run all the way down here.” Tracey rolled her eyes. Daphne resisted the urge to throttle her best friend.

“Trace,” Daphne said, her eyes flashing violently. “Your note literally said ‘Come Fast. It’s Binky.’ So I came. Fast.”

“Right, well, I thought you’d go for something more like a brisk walk.”

“What happened to him? Is he sick? Did someone hurt him?!”

“What? No! Why do you assume something bad happened? Maybe something good happened and I didn’t want you to miss it,” Tracey said, throwing her hands up in surrender at the sight of Daphne pulling out her wand. “Okay, okay, I could have worded my note better, but to be fair, he’s been asking me to write the note for a week but I forgot about it and had literally ten minutes to write it and get it to you! Nothing bad happened to Binky, I swear,” Tracey rambled, well aware that her friend did not mess around when it came to her beloved creatures, and she would be hexed if she kept pussyfooting around.

“What in the name of Morgana’s saggy left tit is going on?” Daphne asked, returning her wand to her robe. Tracey stepped aside, gesturing for Daphne to go see for herself.

Daphne snorted in a very unladylike fashion, pushing past Tracey and traipsing up the hill. She rounded the tree at the very top of the knoll, pausing in shock at the sight that greeted her.

The wooden fence that surrounded the unicorn enclosure was decorated with spirals of her favorite white daffodils. Harry was standing by the gate, gently running his fingers through Binky’s mane who was harrumphing quietly. The adult unicorns gave Harry a wide berth, but none of them were bothering him. They clearly thought Binky was in no danger from the man.

Under normal circumstances, she would have ripped his head off before going back down the hill to murder Tracey for the prank they’d played on her, but the novelty of the situation caused all anger to drain out of her. She simply started to walk towards the gate of the paddock, her eyes wide with amazement.

In all the classes Professor Hagrid had held with unicorns, not a single boy from her year had managed to get close to one. They hadn’t even been able to approach the foals, creatures who were usually slightly more trusting of men than their adult counterparts. Binky was happily nuzzling into Harry’s side.

The foal snorted in excitement at the sight of his favorite human, trotting over to Daphne. She slipped inside the yard, burying her face in his silky fur and pressing a kiss to his head. “Hey there, little bean,” she whispered, running her fingers through his soft coat. “Are you alright?”

Binky neighed happily in response.

When she was satisfied that he was not sick or injured, she pulled away from the unicorn, turning to a blushing Harry. “How?” she asked softly, walking over to him. Binky playfully scampered around them, occasionally pausing to take bites out of the apple in Harry’s hand.

“I gathered every possible fruit known to man and spent three hours every day this past week talking to him. He finally approached me yesterday,” Harry answered.

“You know they barely tolerate the presence of men, right?” Daphne raised an eyebrow. A faint smile broke out on her face as she realized where Harry was going with all this. Her favorite flowers. Her favorite creatures. He had even gone to the trouble of trying (and failing) to tame his messy black hair.

Her fingers itched with a sudden urge to reach out and run through his hair.

“One false move and her mother would have gored you to death.”

“I was happy to take the risk.”

He said it in a completely casual way, like the risk of an extremely painful death was an acceptable price to pay to make her happy. A shiver ran down her spine. She was flushed, an unexpected warmth spreading through her core.

Fuck me. I can’t find Harry Potter hot.

But… she did.

Shoving that thought as far back into her mind as she could, she opted instead to respond by crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Why?”

“Well, I needed Binky’s help to ask an important question.” The unicorn paused to stand next to Harry, almost like he sensed that was where he was supposed to be. He looked up at Daphne with big innocent eyes and she had to force herself not to say yes before Harry had even asked her his question.

“Well? Get on with it. I have Herbology in ten minutes.”

“Daphne Greengrass,” Harry said, pulling out a box from his satchel. Daphne gasped quietly when he opened the lid, revealing an exquisitely crafted corsage. It was the perfect combination of red and green flowers, with a single thread of white daffodils in the middle. “Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?”

“Yes,” Daphne answered with a bashful smile, giving him the answer he was waiting for after five refusals. In her defense, she had asked him to make the proposal romantic and special. What he’d come up with was… perfect. If they were actually dating she’d have taken him to the first empty greenhouse they could find and shagged his brains out.

What? No. Bad Daphne. Stop thinking about shagging your gorgeous fake boyfriend, she scolded herself.

She blushed when his calloused fingers grasped her delicate hand. She extended her arm towards him, letting him slip the corsage around her wrist.

“The flowers are enchanted. They won’t wilt till the day after the Ball, in case you want to wear the corsage that night,” he murmured, pulling his hand away. She already missed the warmth of his skin.

The corsage stays on during sex, the voice in her head decided.

Daphne groaned, trying to shut up the stupid commentary going on in her mind.

“Daph? Are you okay?”

“Just my legs,” Daphne offered weakly.

“Maybe you should use the crutches for a few more days.”

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“This is perfect. Don’t spoil it by bringing up those blasted things.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Daphne smiled, leaning up to do something she had never done before. She brushed her lips against his cheek. “Let me know what color robes you’re wearing so I can pick my dress,” she whispered.

She turned and walked down the hill to her next class, a huge smile plastered on her face.

Harry decided to return to Gryffindor Tower for his free period, his spirits sky high. He entered the common room to the sight of Neville and Ginny standing around Ron. His former best friend sat on a couch, seemingly paralyzed, his face ashen.

Against his better judgment, he walked over to them. “What’s up with him?” he asked Ginny. She was rubbing Ron’s back soothingly. Ron whimpered quietly.

“I shouldn’t have done it. Why did I do it?” He mumbled.

“Do what?” Harry asked, his concern for his friend causing him to forget that he was supposed to be mad at the annoying git. He squeezed into the couch next to Ron, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it gently. “You alright, mate?”

“He asked Fleur to the Yule Ball,” Ginny replied sardonically. She looked like she was struggling to fight back a smile, but she continued to rub his back sympathetically.

“In the Great Hall. In front of about fifty people,” Neville added, perching himself on the arm of the sofa.

“I don’t think adding that part is helpful, Neville,” Harry admonished, trying to suppress a smile of his own. “How did it go? What’d she say?”

“She just… she just stared at me. And then she marched off without a word,” Ron mumbled, before groaning loudly. “I’ll be the only one without a date to the Yule Ball.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. And I’m sure there are… other girls you can ask. Ones who’d be happy to say yes,” Harry said, patting his shoulder reassuringly.

“Yeah. You’re right. You don’t have a date either, do you? I know Neville doesn’t.”

“Actually…” Neville blushed. “I do. I’m taking Gabrielle.”

Ron whipped his head around to stare at Neville. “Fleur’s sister? Going with you?!” he croaked. “S-she said yes?”

“Kinda,” Neville answered. “Gin-” he started, only to be cut off by Ginny’s warning glare. “She needed a partner, and so did I. We’re going as friends.”

“And you?” Ron asked, turning to Harry.

“I’m going with Daph, mate,” Harry said like it was obvious. It should have been obvious. Who else would he take but his ‘girlfriend’? “I just got back from asking her.”

“The proposal work?” Ginny asked with a grin.

“Like a charm. Thank you for helping me decorate the enclosure.”

“Anytime.”

Harry turned to Ron at the sound of angry spluttering. “Y-y-you’re really going to the Ball with that… that Slytherin?”

“I’m dating that Slytherin, Ron, and yes.”

“I see how it is.” He pushed himself off the couch, turning around to shoot Harry an enraged glare. “While you may be willing to betray our house, I have higher standards.” Harry was stunned into silence, simply looking at Ron with a disbelieving expression on his face. Higher standards? He was tempted to tell Ron that the only way he could find someone hotter than Daphne was if he snagged the literal sun.

However, he had marched off, his face resembling a tomato.

“I have no clue why he’s being such a bloody pain. I can’t even hold hands with my boyfriend in the common room when he’s around because his holiness throws a massive fit at the smallest hint of PDA,” Ginny muttered, moving to plop herself in Neville’s lap.

“He’s your brother.”

“He’s your best friend,” Ginny countered.

Harry didn’t bother correcting her. He supposed she was right. He wasn’t ready to let their friendship die just yet.

“So,” he said, turning to the couple with a teasing smile, “you two made things official, huh?”

Notes:

/s They're not dating folks. It's all just an act. Nothing to see here, please disperse.