The Grass Is Always Greener Chapter 10. (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Nothing.

“I’m pretty you could pull the dress up to your chin and it wouldn’t hide the fact that you have tits, Fi,” Tracey said wryly.

Daphne blushed, both at the observation and the use of her childhood nickname by her best friend. She abandoned her efforts to pull her dress up, turning to Tracey with a panicked expression on her face, “Do you think I made a mistake by choosing this dress?”

Tracey took a second to study her best friend. She had picked a forest green floor-length ball gown for the Ball. The color, she had sworn, was to remind people that she was still a Slytherin, although the green was much closer to a certain someone’s eyes than their House colors. The off-shoulder dress left her shoulders and much of her back bare, and the neckline dipped just low enough to offer a tantalizing hint of her generous bust. The dress swept the floor as she walked, obscuring the shimmering glass heels she had chosen for the occasion. Coupled with the minimal make-up, blood red lipstick and casual hairstyle she had chosen, she was, in Tracey’s very professional opinion, bloody gorgeous. But she wasn’t there to tell her that. That was Harry’s job. “Yep. There’s no leg slit. Potter will have to take the entire dress off to fuck you, which severely limits the places you can have sex in tonight.”

Daphne groaned. “I-” She threw her hands up in surrender, stomping away from her chuckling friend to find someone with a more sensible opinion. Hermione was nowhere to be found, but she did spy the Twins having a heated conversation in a secluded corner, far away from the rest of the crowd.

She hiked up her dress and walked towards them as fast as her heels would allow, swiping the glass of champagne in George’s hand and draining the entire goblet in a single gulp before either of them could object. She needed some liquid courage before Harry descended to the Atrium.

“What?!” she snapped. She was already on edge, and the terrified looks on their faces were not helping her frayed nerves. “I know the dress is slightly inappropriate, but I don’t have the time to change. I’ll just borrow Harry’s tux after the opening dance to cover up my impropriety, alright?”

“We… Why did you drink that?” George croaked, his eyes wide in alarm.

“Because it’s champagne?” Daphne replied, giving the redhead a strange look.

“Georgie, boy, why don’t you go join Tracey? I can take things from here.”

“You sure?”

The utter lack of cockiness in his voice sent every alarm bell in Daphne’s head ringing. George Weasley did not get nervous.

“Is he nervous about how tonight will go? He shouldn’t be. Tracey adores him, even if she won’t show it,” Daphne murmured, watching George walk up to her best friend.

“Well, yes, but also no,” Fred replied. “He’s mostly nervous because you drank that.” He pointed at the now empty glass in her hands.

“Why? This is just champagne.” Daphne’s eyes narrowed as a horrible realization set in. “This is just champagne, right, Fred?”

“Uh-” Fred’s eyes flitted around the crowded Atrium as if he was searching for someone to save him.

“Fred?” Daphne said, her voice sugary sweet. “My hair is a mess, I’ve somehow managed to wear the sluttiest dress in the entire room, and my date is Harry Potter. If you’ve brought one of your stupid joke items to the Ball and I’m seconds away from turning into a Canary, I promise you that when I turn back, I’m cutting off that dick and mounting it as the centerpiece of the tree in the Great Hall.”

“It’s not a joke drink,” Fred conceded, gulping. Daphne Greengrass could terrify most grown men and women when she wanted to, and right now, she was in a very murderous mood.

“But it wasn’t just champagne.”

“Theremighthavebeenveritaseruminit,” Fred mumbled, going red.

It took Daphne a second to decipher his words. She leaped forward, pinning the taller man against the wall with surprising agility. “Why the fuck-” She hissed, before shaking her head. “The glass was in George’s hand. Was he planning to drug Tracey with it?” Daphne asked, her eyes narrowed.

“What?! No! Why would George want to drug Tracey?”

“Because Veritaserum, when mixed with alcohol, is undetectable, lowers inhibitions, and makes the drinker spill their secrets even without being questioned. It’s also highly illegal, Fred!”

“Well, yes, we know! That’s why we put it in the champagne. Bagman wouldn’t exactly take a swig of Veritaserum if we asked him to, now would he?” Fred squeaked. “It’s tasteless, so we figured we could offer it to him with the champagne. We didn’t know it isn’t supposed to be mixed with alcohol, I swear,” Fred said, crossing his heart.

“Why would you… You know what, it doesn’t matter. Merlin,” Daphne mumbled, pulling away.

What should I do?

The potion would act within minutes, and she would spend the entire night baring her soul to Harry.

Guess he’s going to the Ball with Patricia ‘I want to ride his face’ Adams after all.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s… I don’t want to talk or even look at you right now, Weasley. Go, before I change my mind about freezing your dick and smashing it to pieces,” Daphne muttered, trying not to panic. She had a decision to make.

She gathered her skirts and had just turned to return back to her dormitory when a soft voice stopped her in her tracks. It did things to her, that voice. Her heart skipped a beat, and she was pretty sure someone had just released an entire garden’s worth of butterflies in her stomach.

“Daphne?” Harry said, frozen in place at the sight of his gorgeous date.

Fuck.

Daphne slowly turned, trying not to simper like an idiot at the sight of her definitely-not-real boyfriend. He was standing on the bottom step, dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo paired with a bowtie. He had completed the look with a form-fitting white shirt and trousers. It was the first time she had seen him in clothes that actually fit him, and the muscles rippling through the fabric of his suit made her throat dry and something else very, very wet.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!

“Aren’t you glad you ditched your dress robes for this? We need to get you more clothes that are actually tailored to fit you,” Daphne teased with a nervous smile.

“Do we?” Harry asked, running a hand through his messy black hair in a futile attempt to tame it.

“Leave it.” Daphne couldn’t believe what she was doing. She had climbed up to the step, her high heels eliminating most of the height disparity between the two. She smacked his hand away, instead gently pushing her fingers through his hair to tame the most stubborn fringes. “I like it the way it is,” she murmured, well aware that half the crowd waiting for the doors to open was staring at them. She couldn’t bring herself to care.

Stupid Veritaserum.

“And yes, we do. We definitely do,” Daphne whispered, “I wouldn’t mind looking at this every day.”

“Guess we’re going shopping on our next Hogsmeade trip,” Harry teased, offering his arm to her.

Daphne took the arm, blushing at Tracey’s wolf whistling. Every eye in the Atrium followed the couple as they made their way to the gates of the Great Hall, the crowd parting to make way for them.

The Prince of Hogwarts. The Boy-Who-Lived. And I, his date, Daphne thought, looking at the throng of people gathered around them. The looks of envy and pure jealousy directed at her made her feel powerful.

Her eyes locked with Patricia, and she grinned, barely restraining herself from blowing a raspberry. She was on Harry’s arm, and she had an image to maintain, both for herself and for him.

That’s right. You can look, but he’s all mine.

“You clean up nice,” Cedric said with a friendly smile as they moved to stand behind him. His date, Cho Chang, gave them both a polite smile before returning her attention to fixing her dress.

“You too,” Harry replied, giving him and Cho a nod.

“I can’t believe Fleur came with ButtMcgee,” Daphne whispered, nudging Harry in the ribs. Harry’s eyes traveled to the couple in front of Cedric and Cho, and he joined Daphne in quiet laughter at the sight of Fleur making last-minute adjustments to Roger Davies’ dress robes.

“Can’t see Krum,” Daphne murmured, looking around the room.

“Maybe he decided not to attend? He does look rather disinterested with every-” Harry said, before chuckling. “Oh,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on the couple descending the staircase.

“Hmm?” Daphne turned to the staircase, her eyes growing wide at the sight that greeted her. The man was unmistakably Viktor Krum. He was dressed in a stylish red suit and was accompanied by a stunningly pretty girl in a blue dress.

“Is that…”

“Hermione, yeah,” Harry confirmed with a smile.

She looked nothing like Hermione. Her bushy hair was now sleek and shiny and had been twisted up into an elegant bun. Her pale blue dress had its own train and could only be described as something out of a fairytale.

“Lucky Krum. I can see why he has a smile on his face for the first bloody time,” Harry said, laughing quietly at the sight of nervous smiles on both their faces.

“Are you jealous?” Daphne asked, unable to help herself. She tightened her hold on his arm, half-hoping he wouldn’t answer. His answer would be nothing more than a weak excuse meant to placate her. He and Hermione made sense after all. They certainly made more sense as a couple than she and he ever would.

“Of Krum? Why would I be jealous of Krum for getting lucky with Hermione? I mean, I’m a little worried, but that’s just because I don’t want him to hurt my best friend…” his voice trailed off at the look on her face. “And,” he whispered, gently pulling her into his side, “I would be most daft indeed to be jealous of any man in attendance when my date is so gorgeous, her beauty outshines the sun,” Harry whispered, resting his chin on her head. “Are you jealous?”

“Of Hermione?”

“Yeah.”

She wanted to tease him. She wanted so badly to say that she was jealous. After all, what girl wouldn’t want to date an International Quidditch Star? But the Veritaserum wouldn’t let her.

“No. Because I’m attending the Ball with you. I don’t think there’s anyone in the castle who can make me happier than you do,” she mumbled, her cheeks a dark red.

Harry looked at her strangely, but before he could question her, Krum and Hermione moved to stand behind them.

“Harry. Daphne,” Hermione said, smiling nervously. “T-this is uh… This is Viktor. Viktor Krum. The-”

“International Quidditch Star and Champion for Durmstrang. Yes, we know,” Daphne said wryly, turning to offer her hand to Viktor. He bent, brushing his lips against the back of her hand.

“A pleasure to meet you. Harry Potter,” Viktor added, turning to Harry.

“You can just call me Harry, mate. Especially now that you seem to be dating my best friend. I still want to know how this happened.”

“Well, you see, Harry,” Viktor started, “I have been in awe-”

“Maybe later.” Hermione cut him off with a hand on his bicep. She nodded at all the people thronging around them, eagerly hoping to listen in on whatever parts of the conversation they could.

“You clean up well, Granger,” Daphne whispered as the two men began a conversation about Harry’s flying in the First Task.

“So do you, Greengrass.”

“Thank you for the lie, but I think we both know this dress is shit,” Daphne muttered, the spiked Veritaserum causing her insecurities to bubble to the surface.

“Why do you say that?” Hermione asked quietly, frowning. Lack of confidence did not suit her new friend.

“Everyone is going to gossip about my dress. It’s too risque. Malfoy even tossed a knut at me and called me a Knockturn Alley Whore.”

“Malfoy is an idiot who looks like a priest, and Parkinson looks like a mannequin from a Victorian Era store. You’re really going to take clothing advice from them? Who did you wear this dress for?” Hermione asked shrewdly.

“Well, I mean… For me,” Daphne admitted. Pink crept back into her creamy cheeks as she added, “and a little bit for Harry.”

“Do you like the dress?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I don’t need to ask Harry.” Hermione nodded toward her best friend. Even though he was engrossed in a conversation about the merits of different brooms with Viktor, his eyes kept straying back to Daphne, traveling the length of her body. Daphne blushed.

“People are going to talk. That’s all they do. I bet I’ll cop a lot of shit for Viktor taking me to the Ball tomorrow. But hey, you’re the Ice Queen of Slytherin. You’re above us rabble. And if someone annoys you just a bit too much, you pull your wand out and-”

“Threaten to freeze their ass off,” Daphne finished with a grin.

“Bingo.” Hermione winked.

“Thank you,” Daphne whispered. It was strange, going from having a single friend to rely on to an entire ecosystem. Tracey, Hermione, and Neville… they all had different roles in her life. Even the Twins, as mad as she was with them at the moment. It felt good… to have a real friend circle for the first time in her life.

“You ready?” Daphne looked up at the gorgeous emerald eyes of her date as the doors to the Great Hall flung open and Professor McGonagall strode out, giving instructions to the Champions and their partners. She tuned her out, focusing on Harry’s eyes and the steady thud of her own heartbeat.

And then, there is Harry.

She didn’t know if it was the Veritaserum or her own feelings reaching boiling point and needing an outlet, but she leaned up, brushing her lips against his for a quick and chaste kiss. “I don’t know,” she whispered against his lips, “But I can’t wait to find out.”

“Potter!” Professor McGonagall’s sharp bark broke the spell, and she physically grabbed Harry’s arm, nodding at the Great Hall with a small smile on her face. “I suggest you and Miss Greengrass follow Miss Delacour and Mister Diggory’s example and get a move on,” she said, her tone devoid of its usual sharpness.

“Yes, professor,” Harry mumbled, both their faces the color of beetroots as they strode into the Great Hall to the sound of quiet chuckling behind them.

All tables and benches had been removed from the Hall with the exception of the Teacher’s Table, where all the judges and some of the teachers were now sitting. A large, raised platform dominated the center of the large Hall. It was clearly meant to be the dance floor, and Harry watched Fleur, Roger, Cedric, and Cho climb on. He secured his hold on Daphne’s arm and helped her onto the dais, watching Viktor do the same for Hermione. Harry took one of Daphne’s hands, his other arm snaking around her slender waist to pull her closer as they began to sway slowly in time to the romantic melody.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked. Daphne was decidedly avoiding looking at his face, instead studying the silver frosting that decorated the walls and the wreaths of ivy and mistletoe crisscrossing the star-studded ceiling.

She studied the small tables arranged around the dance floor, crossing eyes with a smirking Tracey sitting with George, and then Ron Weasley, who was glaring daggers at her. Harry’s warm hand moved up to her bare back to support her as she was dipped, and she shivered when she was pulled back into his chest.

“Can we not?” Daphne whispered, clutching his tuxedo slightly harder than was necessary. The eyes of the entire school were on them, and she had not only kissed Harry Potter but was now letting him take the lead in a very sensual dance.

Why the fuck does this feel so much more intimate than straight-up fucking?

“Okay,” he whispered, twirling her around before pulling her back against his chest.

She stayed silent for a second, but couldn’t help herself. “Are you upset?”

“Why would I be upset, Daph?” he asked quietly, bending to brush his lips against her hair. She had worn her shoulder-length blonde hair down for the occasion, after receiving an anonymous note in her bag letting her know that was how Harry liked it. He certainly didn’t seem to mind, although she couldn’t work up the courage to ask him if he indeed favored her simple hairstyle over the elaborate buns, braids, and other hairdos nearly every other girl had picked for the occasion.

“Kissing was not part of our agreement.”

“Maybe it’s time to change the agreement,” Harry whispered, dipping her one last time as the song petered out. He helped her to her feet, the two moving to stand in line with the rest of the champions and their dates as they faced the Judges and bowed. Madame Maxime was in a heated conversation with Professor Hagrid, while Professor Dumbledore was watching the proceedings with a serene expression on his face. Daphne scowled. She still hadn’t forgiven him for the travesty that was Harry’s participation in the Tournament.

Ludo Bagman had on robes of a most violent and garish violet and was munching on a chicken leg while watching the show they had put on with an indulgent smile. Mr. Crouch was absent, his place had been taken by a red-haired man wearing horn rimmed glasses who bore a striking resemblance to the Twins. The most curious, Daphne mused, was Professor Karkaroff’s presence. He looked desperately uncomfortable, like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Harry’s gentle tug on her arm broke her free of her musing, and she followed him and the rest of the champions off the dance floor. The band struck up a much quicker tone, and excited students grabbed their partners and crowded the dance floor.

The unknown redhead cleared his throat and pulled out the empty chair next to him when they passed him, looking pointedly at Harry.

Harry smiled awkwardly, turning to face the teacher’s table. “Hey, Percy. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Mr. Crouch is under the weather,” Percy said haughtily. “He has seen it fit to give me greater responsibilities and tasked me to represent him at this all-important event.”

“A Ball?” Daphne asked, trying her best not to smile. Harry raised an eyebrow at the lack of her usual sense of diplomacy and tact.

Percy’s nostrils flared. “An opportunity to foster closer diplomatic relations with foreign schools and governments, madame! A sign of my growing stature in the Ministry. You should sit with me Harry, and pick my brain. Your date can perhaps go visit her friends and do what ladies do.”

“I-I’m sorry, Percy,” Harry said, and Daphne could see he was trying his hardest not to laugh. “But my date, like all ladies, is of a rather delicate constitution and is feeling somewhat faint. The Great Hall is really stuffy, and I was taking her out for some fresh air. I’ll be back soon, I’m sorry!” he said, quickly pulling Daphne towards the door.

“That man has never felt the touch of a woman,” Daphne mumbled, grinning when Harry was unable to stop the snort from escaping his throat at her words. “What? You know it’s true!”

“What’s gotten into you today?”

“Champagne,” Daphne answered, walking the very careful line between telling the truth and outright lying. That was all the Veritaserum would allow her to do, but she knew as its effects grew, even that would soon be impossible.

Prudence would dictate she feign illness and ask Harry to drop her to her dormitory. Her role, after all, was over. But her desire to spend as much time as possible with Harry, combined with the fact that she could spy on at least three different girls staring at her man meant that she was determined to stay by his side till midnight, consequences be damned.

“Well, maybe we should give Weatherby some of that champagne. Half the ministry calls him Weatherby,” Harry explained. “I wonder if he and his ‘growing stature’ know that.”

“I promise you, Harry, nobody wants to come within ten feet of his ‘growing stature’.” Daphne giggled. Her heart skipped a beat at the fond look on Harry’s face. “What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“Nothing. I…uh… I like this side of you.”

Morgana’s left tit, I’m going to have to start taking Veritaserum every day.

She wanted Harry to look at her the way he was looking at that very moment, for the rest of her life.

That means letting your walls down, the annoyingly honest voice in her head reminded her.

“Daph?”

“Hmm?”

“You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m just thinking about what my father would do if I told him how Weatherby talked to me. He’ll probably be put in charge of the janitorial department before the close of business.”

“Does the Ministry even have a janitorial staff? The way Mr. Weasley talks about it, isn’t it cleaned by charmed mops and buckets?”

“Well, darling,” Daphne said, putting on an extremely snobbish tone that drew a laugh from Harry. “Someone has to charm the mops and buckets every morning and lock them in their cupboards at night.”

“You’re impossible,” Harry said with a grin.

“I’m yours,” Daphne whispered in a low voice to make sure he couldn’t hear her. She shrieked when he picked her up bridal style without warning, giggling and slapping his chest in a futile effort to get him to drop her as she was carried through the open gates and into the beautifully decorated and lit castle grounds.

Notes:

My, oh my, I wonder what secrets are about to be spilled? If you want a picture of Daphne's dress, I've uploaded it to my blog. The link is in my bio and in my pinned post too!