The Grass Is Always Greener Chapter 12. (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Nothing.

Daphne blindly reached out for the curtain, annoyed at the sudden light flooding into her bed. “Shut the curtains,” she mumbled, burying her head under a pillow.

“It’s noon.” Tracey poked her best friend’s leg. “Come on, you’ve already missed breakfast. That hangover’s only going to get worse if you don’t get something greasy in your stomach. Trust me, I speak from experience.”

Daphne groaned into her pillow. “I regret everything.”

“Even snogging your fake boyfriend?”

Daphne shot up, her eyes filled with panic. “You saw that?!”

“Darling, half the school saw that. You looked like you were seconds away from humping him.”

Daphne groaned dramatically, burying her face back in the pillow. “I’m going to murder Fred and George,” she mumbled, deciding her current predicament was entirely their fault.

“Calm down. It’s not the end of the world. Half the couples on the dance floor were practically humping during that song, you’re no different from any of them. Well, I mean you looked like you couldn’t keep your hands off Potter’s body which we DO need to talk about,” Tracey said, wagging her finger sternly.

Daphne turned to stare blearily at her best friend. “You’re talking about that Weird Sisters song? Everyone was mashed together on the dance floor! I didn’t have the space to put my hands anywhere else.”

“Yeah, I’m talking about that song, why would you need to ask-” Tracey paused, an evil grin on her face. “Wait. Something happened!”

“Nothing happened!” Daphne stuffed her face in the fluffy pillow once more. “Go away.”

“Oh my god, you fucked Potter.”

“You have no proof of it. You didn’t see anything.”

“Well, someone did see something, because you have been summoned.”

“Trace, I don’t care if it’s the devil himself ringing the doorbell, I’m not getting out of this bed today.”

“Oh, it’s someone much worse than the devil,” Tracey said with an evil cackle. “You have been summoned by the Head of Our House.”

Daphne shot up, turning to look at Tracey warily. “Trace, if you-”

“Not a joke. He basically cornered me in the Great Hall and asked where you were. When I told him you probably won’t be coming up for breakfast he asked me to tell you to meet him in his office.”

“When?” Daphne asked, running a hand through her hair to tame the bird’s nest. She pushed a stray strand away from her eyes, ignoring the dull throbbing in her temples. What couldn’t be so easily ignored was the persistent ache in her breasts, her tired mind insisting on bringing up the memories of the night before.

The fountain. Harry.

It wasn’t a dream.

He had suckled on her breast. He had drunk her milk and done so happily and eagerly.

Daphne pulled the blanket up to her chin to hide the large stains on her nightgown right above her nipples. Thankfully Tracey did not notice her action. Her best friend was shaking her wrist to turn the dial of her wristwatch towards her, clearly checking the time.

“Uhh… in ten minutes,” Tracey muttered, the tips of her ears turning pink.

“What?! And you’re telling me now?” Daphne threw the blankets away from her body, scrambling out of bed.

“I was having breakfast with George and might have lost track of time!” Tracey shouted apologetically but Daphne had already vanished into the bathroom.

Tracey was nowhere to be seen when she emerged after taking a brief and very unsatisfying shower. Daphne paced across the deserted dorm room, ignoring her headache and achy breasts in favor of dressing as quickly as possible.

Once her modesty was assured she skidded down the steps into the Common Room, scurrying across the crowded and lively chamber before anyone had a chance to stop and talk to her. Thankfully Professor Snape’s office was right next to the Potions Labs in the castle dungeons, meaning she did not have to run far to reach there.

Despite her best efforts, she was nearly twenty minutes late and she steeled herself for a verbal lashing as she rapped her knuckles against the wooden door. Her professor’s attitude towards her had been chilly at best ever since she had refused his not-quite-subtle suggestion to break up with Harry.

Before the start of the year, she had been his star student. Nowadays he seemed happy to lump her with Longbottom when it came to doling out taunts and reprimands. Not that she really cared. Try as he might, even he couldn’t find any faults in her potions, being able to only criticize her methods. And she much preferred Neville’s company to her hypocritical professor’s praise anyway.

“Enter,” his cold voice wafted through the shut door. She turned the door handle, opened the door a crack, and slipped inside the dimly lit room.

Is the man allergic to light? If we didn’t use so much garlic in our potions, I’d swear he was a vampire, she thought, blinking rapidly to acclimate herself to her dark surroundings. It, therefore, took her a few seconds to realize that Professor Snape was not alone.

“Mom? Father? Harry?” she squeaked, gazing at the two people sitting on the chairs opposite the professor’s desk and then at the boy standing by the fireplace, looking like he’d rather sleep with a Blast-Ended Skrewt than stand in the office a minute longer.

“Darling, you look like death warmed over,” Amelia Greengrass said reproachfully. The tall, statuesque blonde woman gracefully got to her feet and walked over to her daughter.

“Mum! It’s fine,” Daphne muttered, squirming in a futile effort to get away from her mother’s attempt to straighten her hastily buttoned blouse.

“Not at all, darling. The tone you set in the early days of your marriage is what you’ll be carrying forward for the rest of your life. You only get as much effort from your husband as you put in, my dear,” Amelia tutted, smoothening the collar of her shirt with her hands.

“Thank you, for this Severus. We’d like a word alone with the two if you wouldn’t mind?” Cyrus said, staring at Harry. Harry’s blush was evident even in the darkness of the office.

“Of course. I will give you your privacy to properly… chastise your daughter.” On that ominous note, the man got up from his chair and started to walk out, only pausing a second in front of Harry.

“Do not think you are exempt from rules just because you are a celebrity, Potter,” he scowled, glaring at Harry. “Like father, like son, I suppose. This will be reported to your Head of House and you will be punished,” he hissed before sweeping out of the office like an overgrown bat, slamming the door shut behind him.

“As ominous as that was, can we circle back to marriage?” Daphne asked, speaking up after minutes of awkward silence where all her parents did was stare fondly at her and Harry. It was starting to creep her out and while she appreciated the chance to see them in the middle of the year, her throbbing headache demanded that she wrap things up and go back to her dorms for a Pain Potion and a nap. “Who’s getting married?”

“Why, you are, darling,” Amelia said, grabbing her right wrist. Her mother pulled her over to where Harry was standing, placing her hand in his.

Daphne ignored her kinda-boyfriend looking like he'd prefer an hour alone with Professor Snape to whatever monstrosity her parents were cooking up.

She had much bigger fish to fry.

“Mother.” She slowly exhaled through her nose, trying her best not to lose her temper at her mother’s over-enthusiasm when it came to her love life. “As fond as I am of Harry, I would prefer it if we get married on our own time. I’d like the chance to get to know him before we throw in the added pressure of marriage.”

“Oh, darling. Marriage is no pressure! It’s the source of your greatest strength.” Amelia waved her hand dismissively, moving to perch herself on the arm of her husband’s chair. Daphne tried not to gag when she made a show of kissing her father.

“As… amazing as that sounds, mother, I think Harry and I can agree to keep that strength in reserve and use it say… five years down the line?”

Daphne elbowed Harry. The man stopped staring at her parents with a mixture of terror and surprise and glanced at her. She nodded at the overly-affectionate couple, silently prompting him to say something and back her up.

“Uh… yeah. Seems like a waste to spend it all now?” Harry squeaked. “Plus, there’s the tournament going on, there’s just no time to plan a wedding. We could push this, say, ten years down the line?” Harry suggested. Daphne nodded vigorously at his suggestion.

How the fuck did we get here?

They’d barely accepted their feelings for each other the night before. And now her parents were here, practically demanding they jump into marriage?

What’s going on?

She needed coffee. Or better yet, a shot of tequila and a soft bed.

“Young man, are you planning to leave my daughter high and dry?” Her father addressed them for the first time. His tone was soft. His eyes, however, carried the real threat, promising Harry a quick and painful end if he replied with anything other than a strong and emphatic ‘No’.

Thankfully, Harry seemed to have cottoned onto the fact just as easily as her and he vigorously shook his head, giving her parents a nervous smile.

“I adore and admire your daughter, Mr. Greengrass. I want nothing more than a happy relationship with her.” His tone was stiff and formal. He was shifting uneasily on his legs, clearly unused to the situation they were in.

Morgana’s tit, it’s not like I’m any more familiar with the protocol here, Daphne thought, groaning internally.

The first boy she had genuinely liked, and her parents had to go and ruin everything by planning a wedding the day after they had first kissed!

She wouldn’t be surprised if Harry refused to come within ten feet of her after her mother’s antics and her father’s completely ineffective bluster.

The man faced down a basilisk father. Do you really think your politician glare will work on him? Daphne groused internally, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes, but will you marry her, young man?” Cyrus asked, raising an eyebrow in alarm.

“Mother. Father. What’s the rush?!” Daphne asked, unable to bear their clumsy attempts to beat around the bush.

“Well, darling, as thrilled as we are with the news, our first grandchild will not be born out of wedlock.”

“It is simply unacceptable. A child that is the heir to the Potter and Greengrass names being born a bastard? I will not have it. Young man, if your parents were around, they’d have said the same thing.”

“A child?” Harry squeaked, turning to look at her with a desperate expression on his face. She’d have found the look of confusion and terror on his face awfully adorable if they hadn’t been in the presence of her parents. Parents who seemed to want to force their eldest daughter into a shotgun wedding.

“Wait,” she muttered, alternating between looking at her mother and father incredulously. “You think I’m pregnant?!”

“You’re pregnant?!” Harry sounded like he was on the verge of fainting.

Daphne rolled her eyes. She loved her Gryffindor, but he could be a lovable idiot at times. She leaned closer to him, gently pinching his arm to bring him back to reality.

“No, Harry,” she hissed. “We’ve never slept together, remember?”

“It’s someone else’s child? Were you planning to tell Harry, poppet?” Cyrus asked, his bushy eyebrows shooting up in alarm.

“You know, darling, we do everything we can to ensure you girls have a quality education and the chance for a fulfilling career and marriage,” her mother said in a long-suffering voice. “To endanger that with a wild tryst is-”

“Mom!” Daphne exclaimed, her face red with embarrassment. “I’ve never slept with anyone. Ever. The only man I’ve kissed is standing right next to me wondering why my parents are acting like complete lunatics! Now unless the incredibly uncomfortable and inappropriate sex talk you had with me the night before I started Hogwarts was wrong, I don’t think I’m carrying Harry’s child!” She threw her hands up in frustration. “This is the first boy I’ve liked in my entire life and you have to ruin it. How did you even get the notion that I’m pregnant into your heads?” Daphne asked, close to tears.

Cyrus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, silently picked up the Daily Prophet from the desk, and handed it to her.

Daphne glanced at the headline.

‘Deviants In Love’

Her eyes widened at the picture that occupied the entire top of the page.

“How did she get this?!” Daphne growled, showing Harry the photograph of them at the fountain the night before. The blurry, grainy photo had been clicked from behind Daphne which, given the quality of the photo meant that her state of undress was hidden. The photographer had however had impeccable timing and there was no obscuring their passionate kiss.

Harry frowned. The garden had been entirely deserted, or so they’d thought. “Hiding in the bushes, perhaps? That’d explain the terrible photo.”

“If she was hiding in the bushes she had much more interesting sights to report on. I mean, Fleur Delacour was getting fucked ten feet from us. She’s a champion too. But noooo, Rita Skeeter has to continue her inexplicable obsession with us,” Daphne ranted.

“Language!” Amelia scolded.

“MA!”

“Young lady, it is not proper-”

“Ma, I promise to be a proper young lady for Harry when he’s my husband. I swear I’ll say ‘fuck’ right up till the altar and never once after that. But for now can we please focus on the article?!”

“Of course, poppet. That’s why we’re here.”

Daphne redirected her glare at her father, letting Harry take the paper from her hands. “Half the school was out on the grounds doing things far worse than kissing, father. You don’t see Roger Davies’ parents traipsing down to the castle to grill him about his utter inability to please a woman,” she said coldly.

“Oh! We aren’t here about the kiss. Your mother and I attended Hogwarts too. We understand youngsters have certain… needs. And things can get… heated. But it’s best to employ a keeper to ensure that the uh-quaffle doesn’t enter the hoops.”

“What?” Daphne asked, blinking in confusion.

“I think your father wants to say it’s a good idea to make sure you don’t get pregnant,” Harry mumbled. Despite his pink cheeks, there was an undercurrent of amusement in his voice. He was enjoying the absurdity of the situation now that he had gotten over the initial shock. His eyes scanned the article. “Skeeter claims you’re carrying my child and that our uh… little display last night was because of pregnancy hormones. There’s this entire interview with Draco who’s claiming that I’ve bewitched you. Oh, he wants his sweet friend back, does he?” Harry muttered, ruffling the paper to read the last few paragraphs of the article. “There’s also this part about Hagrid being a half-giant rammed into the last two paragraphs. Nothing more,” Harry said, looking at Daphne meaningfully. He knew she’d be smart enough to catch on to the fact that Skeeter hadn’t caught wind of the kinkier part of their night.

A good thing too, Daphne thought with a sigh of relief. She doubted the evil hag would have refrained from splashing private sexual desires on the front page for everyone to read.

“It’s astonishing. It’s like someone gave her a picture and she made up a story about it.” Harry muttered, folding the paper and tossing it into the fire.

Daphne groaned and slumped down on a stool, cradling her head in her hands. “I can’t believe it.”

“We will get the Prophet to publish a retraction, poppet. You’ll just have to ward off questions from your peers till tomorrow’s paper,” Cyrus said.

Daphne glared at her father. “No! I can’t believe you two!” she exclaimed. “Father, you were the one who taught me Skeeter is a fabulist of the first degree and not to believe a word she wrote. And you swallowed that bilge?” she asked, pointing to the ashes in the fireplace.

Her embarrassment was quickly turning to anger and a part of her was secretly relieved when Harry stepped in before she said something she regretted.

“I think this was a case of remarkable misunderstanding. I’m sure your parents were simply concerned about your well-being and my intentions towards you, Daph, that’s all,” Harry said. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, gently squeezing it.

“Oh. Yes. It was never our intention to insinuate in any way-” Cyrus murmured, the gray-haired man tugging on his bespoke suit uncomfortably. “All we ever wanted was-” he started again, interrupted by Daphne’s teary chuckle.

“Harry, meet my parents. They’re the kind of people who’ll apparate over for something that could have been resolved over a letter. Utter drama queens and obviously insane, but you can’t hold it against me,” Daphne murmured, looking up at Harry apologetically. This was not how she had imagined taking him home would go.

“Well, look at the bright side, darling,” Amelia said, carefully walking through the cluttered mess of the Potions professor’s office. She gave Harry a radiant smile, extending a hand towards him that he silently shook. “We got to meet the delightful young man you’re dating. Now, Harry, you must allow us to take you two to lunch.”

“Mother-” Daphne started, desperate to keep Harry away from the insanity that was her family, only to be cut off by Harry giving her mother a small smile and murmuring his acceptance.

“Great! I suppose we should smooth things over with Severus, Amelia? It would obviously be unfair to punish the children for something that they haven’t done. Although I can’t quite recall a school rule against pregnancy from my time on the Board. Must be one of the many things Lucius implemented,” Cyrus said, his face contorting to an expression of disgust when he uttered Malfoy’s name. He got up and started to walk out of the office, only pausing for a second in front of Harry.

“Young man, I’ve been told you’re quite the Quidditch player.”

“I am, sir,” Harry confirmed.

“Good, good. Then you’ll remember my advice about the keeper?”

“Father!”

“Alright darling, keep your head on. We’re going. We’ll meet you two by the castle doors, okay?” she said, addressing the last part to Harry.

“Yes, Mrs. Greengrass.”

“Mrs. Greengrass was my mother-in-law, Harry. You can call me Amelia.” With that she left to join her husband, leaving the young couple alone in the room.

“Lunch?” Daphne hissed, getting to her feet and turning to Harry.

“Why not?”

“Because my parents are… you saw what they are!”

“I thought they were charming,” Harry said with barely disguised mirth.

“They thought you impregnated me, Potter.”

“I mean, we were a few items of clothing away from it happening last night. Just be thankful Rita didn’t overhear the other parts of our conversation.”

“If she had told the world that I want to be collared by you, Potter, I’d have throttled that woman. And then I’d have killed you, just to prove a point. So yeah, you better be thankful she didn’t hear it.”

Harry shook his head and laughed. He gently grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers together. “Come on, darling. Let’s go join your parents before they start thinking I’m trying to uh… get the Quaffle into the hoops again.”

Daphne silently rested her head on Harry’s shoulder as they exited the office, eager to bask in her (relatively) normal boyfriend’s presence before she had to deal with her family. “Are we still on for tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“We agreed we’d work on the clue in the egg together? Please don’t put it off, Potter, I need something good to focus on if I’m to survive this lunch.”

“We are.”

“Good,” Daphne murmured, lapsing into silence once more as they walked down the empty hallway.

Everyone’s in bed and I’m out here having an early lunch with my parents and my boyfriend, Daphne thought grumpily, wondering if she could sway Harry into backing out of lunch.

“You know, I thought I was the masochist in this relationship. Why do you want to have lunch with them?” she asked, looking up at him with her best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“They’re nice people. And they’re saving me from serving detention with Snape for the rest of my life,” Harry pointed out. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Besides, it’s a good idea to start building a relationship with the parents of my future wife,” Harry teased.

“Future wife?” Daphne scoffed. “That’s very presumptuous of you, Potter.”

“When you were ranting to your mother, you said ‘when I marry him’. Not ‘if’. ‘When’,” Harry pointed out with a grin.

Did I?!

She had.

Her cheeks turned a dark red and she pulled away from him, shaking her hand free of his. Having no effective retort, she simply muttered, “you’re an asshole, Potter.” before stomping up the stairs to where her parents and sister were standing.

Notes:

Why didn't Rita get all of their conversation? Animagi seem to get qualities of the animals that they are and I presume something as small as a bug would have very poor hearing, so she only expended her energy to hear what she felt were important parts and use her imagination for the rest. I give Daphne so much family drama in my other fics, I thought I'd make her parents fluffy and supportive in this one! I wanted the egg scene to be of them having kinky fun in a bath together, so I've split it off and it will now be it's own chapter.