The Grass Is Always Greener Chapter 18. (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Hairbrush Spanking, Semi-Public, Teasing.

“Mister Potter, you need to let Miss Greengrass go,” Madame Pomfrey said, gently trying to pull the shivering blonde from Harry’s grasp.

Daphne clung to him, tightening the hold of her arms around his neck.

“No,” Harry said, with a sudden clarity of purpose. Despite everything, he was calmer than he had ever been. All his life, he had floated aimlessly, reacting to events around him. Now, finally, he had a sense of purpose, even if it wasn’t what people wanted from him.

He didn’t want to be the Boy-Who-Lived. He certainly didn’t care about the stupid Tournament and being School Champion, not when it hurt those closest to him.

All he wanted was Daphne.

He wasn’t quite sure if he loved her. He didn’t even know what love truly meant.

But if love was the overwhelming desire in his chest to keep the girl in his arms safe, then he supposed he did love her.

“Would you rather she die of hypothermia, Mister Potter?” Madame Pomfrey asked, sighing softly. Harry could see the bags under her eyes, and he knew she was just as exhausted as the two of them. The stupid Tournament was affecting more than just the Champions and those close to them.

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” Harry said softly, offering a compromise. He brushed his lips against Daphne’s clammy forehead, drawing her deeper into the warmth of his chest. He was still dressed only in his swimming trunks and the towel Madame Pomfrey had wrapped around his shoulders and he shifted slightly, not wishing for her to see the wound on his leg just yet.

Madame Pomfrey nodded and pulled out her wand, realizing it was the best offer she’d get from him. She walked out through the curtains surrounding their bed, returning with a large tub of water which she set down next to the bed.

“As the school nurse, I’m aware you have most likely been,” Madame Pomfrey coughed, “intimate with Miss Greengrass. So I suppose this will not be uncomfortable for you. You have to ensure she gets out of those wet clothes and in this tub of warm water.” She pointed to a yellow block floating in the wooden tub. “Use the sponge. Sponge her entire body until she stops shivering.”

“Why can’t you just magically warm her up?” Harry gently ran his hand through Daphne’s clumped wet hair. He wasn’t eager to have her return to water, even if it was something as shallow as a bathtub. “That’s what you did with everyone else.”

“The others weren’t in shock, Mister Potter,” Madame Pomfrey explained kindly. “This will be therapeutic for Miss Greengrass.”

“Putting her back in the water will help?” Harry asked dubiously.

“In our conversations over the years, I’ve come to understand that Miss Greengrass isn’t afraid of water. She’s afraid of drowning. It’s called a phobia, Mister Potter. Now, you need to trust me and get her in the tub so we can warm her up as quickly as possible,” Madame Pomfrey said firmly.

Daphne remained silent with the exception of the occasional sob. She shivered violently, her face buried in Harry’s chest.

Harry knew better than to ask Madame Pomfrey if she was sure. The woman took her craft seriously, and was the sole reason why everyone in the castle escaped the various accidents taking place on a daily basis mostly unscathed.

He slowly got to his feet, making sure Daphne was securely wrapped up in his arms. She clung to his shoulders, unmoving except for the occasional violent shiver.

His unmistakable limp did not go unnoticed by Madame Pomfrey. Her eyes traveled down to his legs, a small frown on her face as she studied the bloody gash in his thigh.

“Mister Potter.”

Harry turned. He followed the nurse’s gaze, immediately understanding what she was about to say.

“Later,” he said, glancing at his wounded leg. “It’s not that serious and there’s no way in hell I’m leaving Daphne alone right now.”

Madame Pomfrey sighed. “Young love. Makes everyone an idiot,” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. “I doubt Miss Greengrass wants you bleeding out in her bath water.”

“But-”

“Mister Potter, merfolk often dip their weapons in venom. As upset as Miss Greengrass is now, I assure you she’ll feel much worse if her boyfriend suddenly keels over and dies!”

“No,” Daphne finally spoke, her voice hoarse. “Check. Out.”

“Daph, I’m-”

“Mister Potter, she can stay in your lap, but you will sit on the edge of the bed and put your leg up on this stool-” Madame Pomfrey dragged a stool out from under the bed with her foot. “And you will let me examine you,” she finished in a tone that brooked no further arguments.

Harry huffed and shuffled over to the bed, sinking into the soft mattress with a quiet groan. His muscles were sore, unfathomable exhaustion seeping into his very bones as the adrenaline slowly wore off. He adjusted Daphne on his lap before propping his foot up on the metal stool.

Daphne slowly turned in his arms, peeking out from behind a curtain of damp strands of blonde hair clinging to her skin. She watched worriedly as Madame Pomfrey grabbed a tray full of potions, salves, and bandages and knelt, tutting quietly as she examined the wound.

“What is it with the two of you and magical wounds to legs, Mister Potter?” Madame Pomfrey muttered. She lapsed into silence as her wand wiggled in complex patterns over the gash, slowly drawing out the venom from it.

“He’s going to get himself killed one day,” Daphne mumbled, placing a tender kiss on Harry’s bare chest, right over his heart. The fact that he was willing to bear the pain of a poisoned wound for her…

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. The panic that was squeezing her chest slowly dissipated, replaced by a completely unfamiliar warm, gooey feeling she could not place. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before and she whined quietly, burrowing back into his chest.

“Madame Pomfrey,” Harry said tersely, mistaking her whine for something entirely different.

“Working as fast as I can, Mister Potter,” Madame Pomfrey huffed, carefully guiding the dark liquid swirling in the air into a vial before sealing it. “The only way this goes faster is if I lop off your leg.”

Harry seriously considered it for a moment before Daphne’s light slap to his chest brought him back to reality.

“Don’t be an idiot, Potter. I’m not marrying a man stupid enough to ask someone to chop his leg off,” she mumbled, some of her usual bite returning to her voice. Stopping her boyfriend from making stupid decisions was a full-time job and a very good distraction from her memories of the lake that even now threatened to overwhelm her. She had been half-aware the entire time, trapped in a prison in her own mind. She had screamed herself hoarse but no sound had escaped her lips, and her body refused to obey her commands. If she were to ever end up in hell, it wouldn’t be a fiery pit. It would be that lake. The cool, gentle caress of its water was infinitely worse than any burn from hellfire.

She shuddered violently in his arms.

“We’re getting married, are we?” Harry whispered, gently caressing her arm. “I don’t recall proposing,” he said, mostly to distract her. He hissed quietly as Madame Pomfrey smeared a viscous purple paste on his wound, blacking out for a second as the pain overloaded his senses.

“Judging by your last proposal-” Daphne took a deep breath, forcing her mind to happier memories. It was a losing fight, but if she could only keep herself centered until Madame Pomfrey was done taking care of his injuries…

That was all she cared about, she realized. She needed him to be okay, no matter what happened to her.

So she forced her mind back to the unicorn enclosure, to the memory of him shyly presenting her with that beautiful corsage as he asked her to the Yule Ball.

“It’s clear I need to be in charge of things like proposals to avoid our relationship being a complete trainwreck,” she muttered, forcing herself to sound like her usual self.

“If it was that bad, why’d you say yes?”

“Have you ever heard of pity sex, darling?”

“Miss Greengrass!”

“Right.” Daphne cleared her throat awkwardly, having completely forgotten there was someone else with them. She cursed her stupid brain and her stupid, irrational fear. “Anyways, that was a pity yes. Won’t be the case with our marriage proposal. I want something big and romantic. It has to be a huge gesture. All our friends and family need to be there,” Daphne rambled.

Harry glanced at Madame Pomfrey who motioned with her free hand, gesturing at him to keep Daphne talking.

“What about the ring, princess?” Harry asked softly.

“Don’t care.”

“No?”

Daphne shook her head, resting it on his shoulder. She ignored her shivering body, slowly kissing in a line along his tanned skin. “Something small and elegant,” she mumbled. She sounded exhausted. The effort of keeping herself together for him was taking a toll on her, and she wasn’t sure how long she could keep it up. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the lake, the rush of water into her nostrils…

“Like the diamond bracelet?” Harry asked, watching Madame Pomfrey bandage his leg with a waterproof roll. “All done?” he asked once she pulled away, studying her efforts with a critical eye.

“For now,” Madame Pomfrey sighed. She slowly got to her feet, her knees creaking and complaining at the strain. She was getting old. Too old, perhaps, to keep up with young men and women and their injuries. “You need to be back here every day to get that changed.”

Harry nodded. “Can I go in the tub with Daph now?” While it was phrased as a question, his tone made it clear that ‘no’ wasn’t an acceptable answer.

“Yes,” Madame Pomfrey whispered, a small smile on her face at the display of quiet love. As one of her frequent residents, she had grown fond of the young man on the bed and it was heartening to see him find love, even if it had to be under such terrible circumstances.

She slipped out of the curtains surrounding their bed, only to come face to face with a very worried Tracey Davis.

“Can I see them?” the brunette asked, chewing her lower lip nervously.

“I think it’d be best for both of them to spend some time alone, Miss Davis,” Madame Pomfrey said, smiling kindly.

“Can I do anything to help? Get them something to eat from the kitchens? Some firewhiskey from my boyfriend’s stash to warm them up?”

Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that last part, Miss Davis. If you’d like to help, I’d suggest getting some fresh clothing for Miss Greengrass. And for Mister Potter, if that is something you can arrange?”

Tracey smiled. “Easily managed. I know the-” She paused, checking her runaway mouth. “My boyfriend is in Gryffindor.”

“Miss Davis?” Madame Pomfrey called out as Tracey whirled and began to march out of the room.

“Hmm?” Tracey turned, expecting to be given further tasks. Had their nurse reconsidered her stance on the firewhiskey?

“I hope you’ll take adequate precautions to avoid a scare like your best friend.”

Tracey frowned, trying to decipher the nurse’s words. Her cheeks turned pink when she finally decoded what Madame Pomfrey had said, and she nodded furiously. “We absolutely are!” she squeaked. She knew the nurse was only doing her job, but was this really the best time?!

“Very well then. You can fetch Miss Greengrass and Mister Potter's clothes while I check on the other champions and their hostages,” Madame Pomfrey said as Tracey turned to leave once more. “ONLY the clothes, Miss Davis.”

---

Daphne stayed silent as she watched Harry lower himself into the tub of warm water. She was floating in the large tub, bobbing listlessly up and down in the water with vacant eyes.

As pleasant as the warm water felt against her cold skin, it had caused the memories of her time in the lake to return in full force, nearly rendering her catatonic. She lashed out at a gentle touch to her arm, her traumatized mind entering survival mode.

Harry calmly grabbed her wrist before her palm could make contact with his face. “Just me, love,” he whispered, slowly drawing her closer. He picked up the sponge and squeezed it, dumping a small amount of the simple bath soap Madame Pomfrey had been kind enough to provide on its surface. “Just me,” he repeated, gently running the sponge down her arms.

The dam finally broke. Daphne sobbed silently in the tub as Harry took care of her, tears streaming down her pink cheeks. Harry didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. All he had to (and wanted to) do was make sure she knew he was there for her. Now and forever.

So he silently washed her arms and neck before gently pushing her hands out of the way. The sponge traced the curve of one breast and then the next, the man slowly circling her pink areolas as he soaped up the creamy mounds.

“I’m sorry,” Daphne whispered, hiccuping quietly.

“Alright. Who are you and what’ve you done with my girlfriend?” Harry teased lightly, gently pulling her into his chest and turning her around. He let her rest her head on his shoulder, her back to him and her hands nervously massaging his biceps as she shifted to make her body more accessible to his hands and the sponge. “Because she’d let me spank her ass raw before she’d even consider admitting she was wrong. I don’t think an apology is in Daphne Greengrass’ many and varied skills,” Harry murmured. He ran the sponge down her stomach, gently caressing her belly with its warmth.

“What’re you sorry for, princess? I’m the one who owes you a lifetime of apologies. You’ve spent the entire year helping me and all I and this Merlin-Forsaken Tournament do is put you in danger.”

“It wasn’t your fault, daddy,” Daphne whispered, gently squeezing his firm biceps. “You’re not allowed to blame yourself for this. That Goblet chose me,  just as it chose you. Like you, I was told I didn’t have a choice. We’re all victims of fate,” Daphne murmured. The panic and her memories were an ever-present shadow in the back of her mind, and she knew that the only thing keeping them at bay was her boyfriend’s presence. His strong arms, wrapped around her, promised protection and security. His soft words made her feel small and safe.

She closed her eyes, silently enjoying the unfamiliar warmth in her chest.

“Fuck the Tournament,” Harry growled with uncharacteristic anger. “Fuck the consequences, Daphne. I’d bear them and so much more for your safety.”

“If it wasn’t for the Tournament, we’d never have met.” Daphne’s heart fluttered. “And you don’t mean that. You CAN’T mean that,” she muttered, mostly to convince herself. “I’ve been reading up the history of the Tournament-”

Harry gently grasped Daphne’s chin and made her look up at him, his emerald eyes locking with her stormy gray ones. “Princess, if the choice was between your life and a dementor’s kiss, I’d choose the kiss. No consequence is too much when it comes to your safety,” he whispered, gently pressing his lips against hers for a chaste and loving kiss.

“Why?” Daphne croaked, her breathing ragged. No one, much less a man, had ever cared for like this.

Ice Queen. Ice Bitch. It had always been her against the world.

“It’ll take too much effort to find a new girlfriend. Especially one who’s a bratty pain in my ass,” Harry easily deflected her question with a wink.

And because I love you, Daphne Greengrass.

“Now, be a good girl and spread your legs.”

“Why?” Daphne squeaked, blushing wildly.

“Madame Pomfrey told me to sponge your entire body. I’m not letting you die of hypothermia.” Harry gently grasped her thighs, overcoming her resistance with ease as he pulled her legs apart.

The tangy aroma of her arousal filled the steamy air around them as the sponge moved ever closer to her wet core. Daphne’s blush deepened with every passing second.

“I like it when you take care of me,” Daphne whispered, not bothering to wait for the inevitable question.

“Next time you want me to give you a bath, just ask? We don’t need to play a highly dangerous game of chicken with a tribe of merfolk.”

“Noted.” Daphne cleared her suddenly dry throat. Harry was gently caressing the intimate area between her thighs, his rough, calloused fingers slowly moving toward the petals that guarded her womanhood.

“Well, I got you both some dry, warm clothes. I also chucked in a flask of Firewhiskey but don’t tell… Oh!” Tracey paused, stopping mid-ramble. She had slipped through the curtains, only to skid to a halt and stare at the incredibly intimate scene in front of her with wide eyes. “Bad time?” she asked, a massive grin on her face.

“Yeah. Someone murdered romance. I think her name rhymes with Bracey Lavis,” Harry said with a fond roll of his eyes.

“Please, Potter. You can keep going if you want to. It’s not like I haven’t heard her promise to be a good girl for you every time she masturbates in bed.” Tracey grinned, dumping the clothes and the shiny metal flask on the mattress before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Tracey!” Daphne’s blush skipped several shades of red as her cheeks turned maroon.

“What? Fact’s a fact.” Tracey’s grin slowly morphed into a softer smile. “I’m glad you’re okay, Daph.”

“Thanks, Trace,” Daphne whispered, turning to her with a smile. “Harry told me what you did to help. Thanks for keeping my idiot boyfriend’s head screwed on straight.”

“Hey, that’s what besties are for, right? I’ll keep him out of trouble, okay? You just concentrate on getting better.”

Harry rolled his eyes as Daphne giggled and nodded. “Did Percy give you any trouble?”

Tracey shrugged. “Fred and George told him he was lucky he wasn’t hanging upside down from a branch of the Whomping Willow. That shut him up pretty quickly. I know you don’t care, but you placed first. Tied with Cedric. The Third Task is in March.”

“I can promise you I don’t give two shits about the Third Task right now Tracey,” Harry said, wrapping his arm around Daphne’s waist as she dug her nails into his skin nervously.

“We thought as much. George and I were going to rip the other judges a new one but then we realized you’d probably want the pleasure of doing that yourself.”

“You made the right assumption, yes.” Harry scowled.

“That’s why we decided that instead of confronting them, they’d be the perfect subjects for my boyfriend’s new Laxative Toffees. Tonight’s dinner should be… explosive,” Tracey said, casually examining her nails.

“How-” Harry paused when a smiling Daphne shook her head. “Right. When it comes to you and the Twins, we’ve learned the less we know the better.”

“Look at you, Potter! The wizard dropped by and gave our dumb-as-a-rock Gryffindor some brains, huh?” Tracey teased, her eyes twinkling. Her smile grew wider at Daphne’s giggle. Silly pranks to help distract her best friend were piss-poor thanks for everything Daphne had done for her, but it was a start. “Don’t worry. I’ll get Creevy to grab some pictures for the two of you,” she said, getting to her feet.

Tracey paused on her way out through the curtains, looking back at Daphne apologetically. “I’m so sorry, Daph.”

“Not your fault, Tracey. Just as it wasn’t Harry’s fault.”

Tracey slowly nodded, unable to help the guilt eating away at her.

“I promise, Tracey,” Daphne said softly.

Tracey sighed and gave her a small smile before slipping out of the curtains.

“Why did she apologize?” Harry asked, making his girlfriend bend her leg at the knee so he could scrub her sole.

“She thinks my fear of drowning is her fault.”

“Why?”

“You know, Tracey was the first person I met on the train to Hogwarts. She was… Merlin, she was so annoying. But she has this strange ability to be your friend, whether you like it or not. I was so thrilled when we were sorted into the same house. I’d spent my childhood taking care of my mother and sister, and now I had my first real friend!” Daphne recounted with a fond smile. “Turns out, the rest of the House wasn’t too happy to have her. How dare a half-blood sully their Noble House,” Daphne muttered, venom dripping from her voice. “A group of older Slytherin girls bullied her for hours on her very first night in Hogwarts. I went to Snape the other day and he said he’d look into it, but he didn’t do anything. I watched as they cornered her again the next night. And then on the third night, the very same thing happened and I couldn’t watch anymore.”

“What’d you do?” Harry asked, gently massaging her heavy breasts with his free hand. Daphne sighed as his fingers sank into her creamy skin. She arched her back to push her mounds into his hand, desperate for the comfort of his touch.

“I hexed Milicent Bulstrode. Turns out, that was a big mistake. Did you know Slytherin has a punishment room?”

“I did not, but somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Harry murmured, frowning. He had a very good idea where her story was going and he had to force himself to keep his voice level. She didn’t need outrage or promises of vengeance from him. That, he decided, would be a personal project.

“The girls dragged me to it. It’s an attic, really. Our Common Room, Dormitories… the attic, it’s all under the lake. Unlike the rest of the rooms, however, the attic doesn’t have a stone ceiling. It’s made of glass.” Daphne hiccuped, shivering despite the warmth of the water they were in. His arms around her gave her the courage to continue, to share the burden of her trauma with a man she had grown to love and trust. “You see, they use it to keep rebellious house members in line. Usually the threat of it is enough to get people to behave, but I have this annoying habit of not budging from my ideals. So, they made me sit on a stool in the very center of the room and look up at the crushing vastness of the lake above me. All that water, and just an enchanted glass ceiling protecting me from it.” Daphne’s breath hitched. She clamped her eyes shut, shuddering in Harry’s arms.

“Daph, you don’t-”

“No, it’s okay.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “Flint’s fling at the time… Marissa something… she undid a clasp and a pane of the ceiling fell open. And a charm let a controlled jet of water rush into the room. They told me I had a choice. I could join them in bullying Tracey, or I could drown. Then they left and waited outside the shut door, expecting me to hammer on it, screaming and crying by the time the water reached my ankles.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing for an entire hour. I stood there, unbroken, the water having reached up to my chest until Flint triggered the charm to dispel the water and rushed in to retrieve me. Bullying a half-blood from an unknown family was one thing. Accidentally killing the Greengrass heiress would have meant all their heads, something those girls were too stupid to understand,” Daphne muttered. “Flint told me the entire House would leave Tracey alone if I kept my mouth shut about what had happened. It was a good deal. I agreed. I overheard Flint telling people I had ice in my veins later that night in the Common Room. That’s how that rumor started, I guess.”

“That’s…”

“Fucked up? Welcome to the new Slytherin House. A corrupted, demented version of what it should be,” Daphne whispered, allowing Harry to help her out of the tub. “I’ll deny it if you ever say this to anyone, but a part of me sometimes wishes I was in Gryffindor with you.”

“Why?”

“We could’ve had more time together. Do you know why I didn’t even try to get out of this stupid Task despite knowing what might happen?” Daphne asked, gently threading her fingers through his messy black hair. She held his gaze, her eyes bloodshot from all the sobbing. “A small, very selfish part of me was thrilled that for the first time in my life, someone cared about me enough that I was what they’d miss the most. And this Task was the chance to prove it. Now the entire castle knows of the strength of your… claim to me,” Daphne whispered, her fingers tracing the black choker she had refused to remove while undressing. Until her personalized collar arrived, she had taken to wearing it in public, with a small, heart-shaped pendant attached. Unknown to everyone, even her boyfriend, she had carved his initials on the back of the pendant, on the part that rested against her skin. “It… We aren’t a fling anymore. And I like it,” she whispered, watching him pat her dry.

“I get it. I’m not saying I’m not upset, or that you’re not facing a mountain of punishment when you get better, but I understand, my love,” Harry whispered, using a new nickname for her. He brushed his lips against her forehead, gently helping her into her unicorn-patterned jammies.

“You’ll stay, right?” Daphne asked, chewing her lip worriedly as he led her to the bed. He was the only thing keeping her grounded and the memories at bay.

“I don’t think Madame Pomfrey will allow that,” Harry said gently.

“Please don’t go,” Daphne whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I just want to forget. Please,” she begged, allowing Harry to pull her into a hug.

“How?” Harry asked, not sure what to do. “I’ll ask Madame Pomfrey for some Sleeping Draught.”

“No,” Daphne growled, harshly grabbing his wrist. “No,” she said in a softer tone, sounding broken. “C-can you punish me and put me to bed?” Daphne whispered, silently begging him with her eyes.

“Punish you?” Harry asked dubiously.

“Subspace helps,” Daphne admitted quietly. “My mind’s blank. I’m happy. Floating. At peace,” she explained, blushing furiously.

Harry nodded and sat on the edge of the hospital bed. He arranged a pillow next to him before patting his thighs, looking up at his princess with a small, encouraging smile. His smile grew wider as the Slytherin draped herself over his legs, burying her furiously blushing face in the pillow arranged for her.

Daphne let her head sink into the soft pillow, sighing quietly as Harry’s fingers roughly dug into the waistband of her pajamas and pulled them down her slender legs. She adjusted herself on his lap, her back slightly arched to raise her ass in the air for her dominant.

Even the simple act of bending over for her daddy was enough to cause the tidal wave of panic to recede in her mind. It was replaced instead by the usual hum of anticipation and pleasure, and an overwhelming feeling of safety.

Harry studied the buttplug poking out of her ass, his fingers slowly tracing the initials carved into the gem. ‘H.P.’ As clear a sign as any that she was his princess in every single way that mattered. She’d shifted to a bigger plug, eager, perhaps even more so than he was if he was being honest, to prepare her ass for him, to let him claim her final, most intimate hole as his.

“Hands,” Harry ordered quietly. Daphne obeyed immediately, silently pulling her arms behind her back. She groaned when he grabbed her wrists, her lips curling into a bashful smile against the pillow as the man gently squeezed her hand and threaded their fingers together.

Loved. Cared for.

She had been the Ice Queen for far too long. A part of her longed to now be Harry Potter’s princess.

“What are you, Daphne?” Harry asked, leaning over to grab the hairbrush from the nightstand next to the bed. It was part of the kit kept next to the hospital wing beds for its inhabitants. A heavy wooden thing straight from the nineteenth century, it seemed wildly impractical for actually brushing Daphne’s luscious blonde hair. But its attributes did make it excellent for something else entirely.

“I’m a bratty pain in your ass, sir,” Daphne mumbled, her breathing slowly evening out as she sank into the haze of Subspace. She loved it. Subspace gave her exhausted mind the rest it needed, the freedom from the schemes and plans running through her head, from worrying about Tracey and her sister, from the constant fear and vigilance that she required to keep herself and her loved ones safe.

Harry chuckled. “That you are,” Harry whispered, admiring her firm, round asscheeks. His fingers sank into the creamy flesh as he began to massage and knead her ass, a groan of pure, wanton desire escaping her lips. “You’re also the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Really?” Daphne asked, her lower lip trembling.

“Without a doubt.” Harry pulled his leg out from under hers, draping it over her legs and pinning her body in place. “You know you talked about how you could have had more time with me?” Harry asked, his voice soft.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here until you get sick of me. Now, be a good girl and take your punishment. Are you ready?” he asked, resting the flat surface of the wooden hairbrush against her ass.

“Yes, sir,” Daphne whispered, forcing herself to relax.

SMACK!

“One!” Daphne cried out, her eyes squeezing shut at the sharp stinging consuming her right asscheek. A lone tear leaked out of the corner of her eye and streaked down her cheek, contrasting with the blissful smile on her face.

SMACK!

“Two!” Daphne groaned, her fingers tightening their hold around Harry’s hand. He wasn’t holding back, wasn’t building up as he usually did. Instead, he rained blows on her ass, the hairbrush making contact with her flawless skin again and again with bruising precision.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

“Three… Four… daddy!” Daphne squealed at the last spank straight to her pussy. Her petals turned pink, a pleasant throbbing radiating through her core. She had been a bad, bad girl and she was being punished.

SMACK!

“AH! I’m sorry, sir! I’ll be a good girl for you, I promise,” Daphne sobbed, the second spank to her stinging pussy finally breaking the dam. Cathartic tears streamed down her face, washing away all her worries and fears.

“Count, my love,” Harry ordered, rubbing the cool wood of the hairbrush against her wet slit.

“S-ix… seven…” Daphne mumbled hoarsely. They lapsed into silence as Daphne hiccuped quietly and tried her best not to grind against the hairbrush rubbing against her pussy.

“What are you, Miss Greengrass?”

“I’m your needy little cumslut,” Daphne mumbled, her cheeks burning, knowing the tiny jerks of her hips hadn’t gone unnoticed.

SMACK! SMACK!

“Eight! Nine!” Daphne’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as Harry rained blows onto her stinging cheeks with blistering force, turning her flawless alabaster skin bright pink. She kicked her legs in a futile attempt to break free, playfully struggling against her captor.

SMACK!

“Ten!” Daphne panted, blacking out for a second when the spank landed on her pussy. Harry always knew exactly what she needed, and at that very moment, she had needed a hard spanking and the welcome oblivion of pain and punishment.

Her mind was blank, the haze clouding it making it difficult to think or speak. She heard the thunk of the hairbrush hitting the nightstand, felt Harry’s hands digging under her shoulders as he helped his sleepy princess into the soft hospital bed. She groaned quietly when her ass made contact with the mattress.

“I uhm… I care for you, very much, Daphne,” Harry whispered, glad the girl was too sleepy to notice the dark blush coating his cheeks. He pulled the blanket up to her chin, cocooning her in its warmth.

“You’ll take care of me?” Daphne mumbled, yawning cutely.

“Mhm,” Harry murmured, his lips brushing against her forehead.

“Always?”

“Always.”

---

Harry silently slipped out through the gap between the curtains around Daphne’s bed. He paused for a minute, leaned against the frame supporting the curtain, and studied his girlfriend with a small smile on his face. The blonde girl was fast asleep, curled up in the hospital bed with a soft pillow hugged tightly against her chest.

“Miss Greengrass will be fine, Mister Potter,” Madame Pomfrey whispered, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. She squeezed it lightly, smiling reassuringly at him. “She’s a strong woman.”

“Have her parents been told? They should know,” Harry said softly, not acknowledging the nurse’s words. He knew she meant well, but what she said did not help. If anything, it only made him feel worse. She had to be ‘strong’ because of him. She was in the hospital bed, hurt and traumatized, because of him. Again. It was becoming something of a tradition, and he had every intention of locking her up in his dorms before the Third Task to ensure her safety. The way things were going, the final task would probably end up killing her.

“I do not think so. It is usually the Headmaster who does that, and last I saw him, he was still smoothing things out with the Merfolk. You caused quite the kerfuffle under the lake, it seems.”

Harry’s smile turned into a frown. “There wouldn’t have been a kerfuffle if they hadn’t tried to stop me from saving the lives of my best friend and the girl I…” Harry paused, his breath hitching in his throat. “The girl I love,” he whispered, balling his fists. His knuckles turned white as he dug his fingers into his palms, trying his best to keep his temper.

Madame Pomfrey wasn’t at fault here. If he had to guess, she hated the Tasks just as much as he did, probably more. No, he needed to reserve his ire for the people truly at fault.

“You should meet with the Headmaster. Miss Greengrass’ parents definitely need to be told. And there’s also the matter of you leaving the Task somewhat abruptly.”

Harry frowned. Albus Dumbledore and the rest of the judges were last in the list of people he wanted to see. He didn’t care about the Tournament, about the tasks, about something as inane as school honor. He’d never wanted personal glory anyways, and the monetary prize held no appeal for him. None of it was more important than Daphne’s well-being.

He was saved from answering by a quiet tapping on the pane of the window closest to where they were standing. Hedwig continued to tap her beak against the window, balancing herself on the windowsill outside. Harry’s eyes were immediately drawn to the note carefully secured to her right leg.

That could only be one person.

He rushed to the window and pulled it open, gently threading his fingers through his owl’s soft white feathers as he caressed her head. “I wasn’t expecting you back so quickly,” he whispered, retrieving the letter from her with his free hand. He’d written to Sirius to keep him updated about the goings on in the castle just as his godfather had instructed, but he hadn’t expected Hedwig to return with a reply for at least another week.

He unfurled the tightly wound scroll, his eyes quickly scanning the message. It was terse and to the point.

‘Decided to come back after the first task fiasco. I’ll be waiting where we first met. Love, Padfoot.’

Harry ripped up the note before Madame Pomfrey could read it, flinging the tiny pieces of paper out of the open window.

“My relatives. Asking me if I can find somewhere else to stay in the summer,” Harry lied, turning to the nurse with a small smile. He stroked Hedwig under her beak for a minute before letting the tired bird fly to the Owlery to get some well-deserved rest. “I’ll be back with dinner for Daphne, Madame Pomfrey. I’ll make sure Tracey drops by in the afternoon to keep her company,” Harry said, quickly walking out of the room to avoid being questioned.

He slipped out of the room, glancing at the corridor that led down to Dumbledore’s office. He pushed the Headmaster and the Tournament as a whole out of his mind. There’d be time enough for that in the coming days and weeks. Right now, he needed to send a letter to his girlfriend’s parents.

And then, he’d go meet Sirius. All he wanted after the day he’d had was his godfather’s friendly face and practical advice.

Notes:

I wanted to give Daphne a fully fleshed out backstory instead of just going, yeah, she's the Ice Queen. I also think Voldy basically corrupted Slytherin and brought out the worst in them so I wanted to show what a True Slytherin can be. Here you can see Daphne risking everything for people she loves, and her pride in being chosen as Harry's hostage, both very Slytherin qualities. Her backstory also gives sense to why she terrifies people. If she can survive that on her third day in Hogwarts, she isn't someone you want to mess with. As for their love... it's adorable and I kinda want them to have a 'After all this time?' 'Always' scene ngl. It'd make much more sense with them tbh cause it's real love, not obsession. Oh, and, join my Discord!