The Grass Is Always Greener Chapter 22. (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Blindfold, Mating Press, Cum Play, Teasing, Creampie, Aftercare.

“This would be the worst fucking time for you to have post-nut clarity, sir,” Daphne mumbled, gazing up at Harry. She was on top of him, the two cuddling on the soft carpet and enjoying their post-orgasmic bliss. He had tossed her corset away before they settled down, but her dress was still bunched up around her waist, and he seemed in no hurry to take it off.

He was under her, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on the bare skin of her back while he stared at the ceiling with a contemplative expression on his face.

“Hmm?” Harry murmured, too deep in his thoughts to have heard what she said.

“Oh my god, you do have post-nut clarity,” Daphne muttered, slapping his bare chest. She tried to sound upset, but the haze brought on by her Daphne-shattering (a term she had coined herself) orgasm made it impossible. Instead, she whined needily and burrowed deeper into his chest, wrapping her slender arms around his frame in an attempt to cling to him like a koala. “Dumping a girl an hour after she’s told you she loves you is bad form,” Daphne muttered. She kissed his warm skin, her teeth clamping around a tiny stiff nipple and gently tugging.

“Daphne I… fuck!” Harry hissed, groaning quietly as she turned the tables, a gentle sting spreading out from the nipple she had bit. “You know what,” he muttered breathlessly. “I do have post-nut clarity.”

Daphne tried to gather up the courage to ask for one last round before he left.

“I’m suddenly very clear on what I want,” Harry murmured, pushing himself up to a sitting position with her still in his arms. She hugged him tighter, unwilling to let go.

“You know, every time I faced Voldemort-” Harry ignored her shivering in his lap. “I somehow won. And people around me said it was because I had the power of love and he didn’t. But I had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. I was simply trying to survive, that’s it,” Harry explained, kissing her head.

“You talk like that’s changed,” Daphne mumbled, closing her eyes. The steady THUMP of his heartbeat calmed her down within seconds.

“It has,” Harry confirmed with a tiny shrug. The events of the day had brought his nightly dreams to the forefront of his mind. “I know now why he never won, why he can’t win. Even if my nightmares are real and he’s back… he’ll never win because he has nothing to fight for.”

“You-” Daphne paused, her heart jumping into her throat. “You do?”

“Yes,” Harry answered simply, groaning as he climbed to his feet. Daphne locked her legs around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder, looking up at him with a shy smile. “You. The chance of a future with you. The dream of calling you my wife and having a family of our own,” Harry whispered, carrying her to the bed. “I’m clear on what I have to do because now I know what I want.”

“I thought-”

“Really?” Harry snorted, cutting her off. He knew exactly what she was going to say. “This again? Keep it up and I’ll make you get a tattoo of my name on your arm or something,” Harry grumbled, tightening his hold around her. “Bet something as embarrassing as that will remind you that I’m not going anywhere.”

Daphne shivered in his arms at the thought of having a permanent reminder of him on her body. She didn’t say anything but did shelve the idea in her mind so she could surprise him later.

Not a tattoo of his name on her arm, no. That could be both too cliché and gauche. She would get something subtle, something that would make sure he knew she had surrendered her heart and body to him.

For now, she settled for a quiet, “I believe you.”

“Good. Because I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to do everything in my power to finally defeat that monster so we can have everything we’ve dreamed of,” Harry whispered, turning to kiss her forehead before dropping her onto the bed.

The mattress creaked under her weight as she was dropped on it. Her cheeks turned pink at the sight of his gaze fixed on her heavy breasts bouncing gently. “So I’ll be Mrs. Potter. Some day,” Daphne breathed, her hand subconsciously moving to pinch the nipple he hadn’t sucked, squeezing it to draw out a trickle of milk. Her free hand moved to caress her flat belly as the milk streamed over it, and for the first time in her life, she dared to dream of a future where she had a family of her own.

Harry had promised her they’d figure out a way. She believed him. He had done the impossible before, and her heart swelled at the thought of him doing it again for her.

She lay down on the bed and spread her legs, her hand moving between her thighs. Harry stood in front of the bed, enraptured by the show she was putting on for him. Her fingers ghosted over the skin of her thighs, tracing the trails of dried cum staining it, moving upward although she was in no real hurry.

“Yes,” Harry said hoarsely, his cock stirring to life. “When we get married.”

“We should run away. Elope,” Daphne moaned quietly, her fingers tracing the petals that guarded her aching womanhood. No matter how sore she was, she wanted him in her. It felt wrong for her core to be empty, for him to not be buried deep in her belly.

Harry laughed, providing a much-needed break in the tension that hung heavy in the air. “I don’t think your mother will like that very much, pumpkin.”

Daphne giggled, the sound turning into a breathy moan as her fingers gently spread her pussy lips, the pressure in her belly suddenly vanishing as the cum they were holding back gushed out of her gaping slit. His disappointed groan as he watched it streaming down the creamy skin of her legs gave her life. “Oh, she’ll hunt us down to the ends of the earth,” Daphne giggled breathlessly, gathering up some of his cum on her fingers. She popped them in her mouth and moaned quietly as she swirled her tongue around the digits, lapping up the salty seed. “You don’t like what you see, daddy?” she asked as she sucked her fingers. He had finally turned away from her and moved to the largest cupboard in the room, methodically going through its contents.

“It belongs inside you,” Harry groused, searching for something that would ensure more of his seed wasn’t wasted. It was meant for her belly, not the satin sheets of the bed.

“Sorry, daddy, I made a mess,” Daphne teased, gathering up more of his cum on her fingers. She licked them clean, before repeating what she was doing all over again. While she agreed with his assertion (his seed DID belong in her belly), being empty meant riling him up for another round, and she needed him back inside her.

“Don’t worry princess, I’ll fix it.” Harry found everything he had been searching for and turned, only to pause dead in his tracks at the sight of Daphne on her side, facing him.

She had her lips parted and was lazily dripping the seed she had gathered on her fingers onto her tongue. She tilted her head, giving him an unobstructed view of her semen-filled mouth.

“Hwhat shouldh Ih dho?” Daphne asked thickly, her stormy gray eyes peering up innocently at Harry. “Oophs,” she giggled, making no attempt to clean up the cum that had leaked out of her mouth and was dribbling down her chin.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” Harry groaned, already rock-hard. His throbbing manhood twitched and he had to muster up all his self-control to stop himself from pouncing on the bratty girl.

“You could cover me with your cum from head to toe and it wouldn’t be enough, sir,” Daphne pointed out after she finally swallowed. Unlike Pansy (who wouldn’t stop praising it in public and complaining about how gross it felt in private), Daphne didn’t have to pretend to enjoy her boyfriend’s seed. She liked its taste, the way it felt on her skin, but most importantly, she loved it when he filled her up, and for an hour or two, she could pretend to have a life she didn’t think was possible.

“George was joking yesterday that they tweaked a fertility potion and now it causes a man who drinks it to cum five times their usual amount,” Harry murmured, the mattress creaking under his weight as he climbed onto the bed.

“Do not drink anything George Weasley cooks up. I’m not marrying you if your dick explodes,” Daphne teased, leaning up to let him squeeze behind her. She settled herself on his lap, looking up at him with a look of pure adoration.

“Don’t worry, if he asks I’ll tell him to test it on himself first,” Harry said with a chuckle, dropping the plug he had grabbed on the bed next to her body.

“What’s that?”

“A pussy plug. Didn’t know they made those.”

“Oh!” Daphne perked up. “I learned about them in my etiquette lessons.”

“Is this what your governess was teaching you?! No wonder you’re my kinky little cumslut,” Harry teased, securing the black satin blindfold around her eyes.

Daphne’s eyes flickered shut and she moaned softly. The combination of the helplessness brought on by the lack of sight and the gentle humiliation caused by Harry’s teasing immediately pushed her into Subspace. She spread her legs for him, surrendering her body to him without a fight.

“B-before modern fertility potions… Pureblood ladies used plugs like that one to… Oh, Merlin!” Daphne moaned, shivering as his hands ghosted over her aching breasts. “They… they kept their husband’s seed in and were etched with fertility runes to aid the lady in getting pregnant,” Daphne explained, breathing heavily. Harry had pushed his hands under her knees and bent her legs at the waist, pulling them up over her head.

“I think this one is just for kinky fun, love,” Harry murmured. It was dark, the room illuminated only by the small fire blazing in the fireplace and by a few candles floating in the air. The purple plug was just that, a plug. A toy to help couples who booked the room engage in a bit of harmless roleplay. “Doesn’t mean we can’t pretend,” Harry pointed out, making her grab her own ankles.

She was locked in a mating press, her hips raised up in the air and her pussy easily accessible. “Are you going to fill me up with your seed and plug me, Mr. Potter?” Daphne asked, tilting her head up to look at him with an impish smile on her face. “But that’ll knock me up!”

SMACK!

Daphne groaned at the sharp slap to her pussy, her legs trembling as the pain radiated through her core. “Sir!” she sobbed, but stubbornly maintained her grip on her legs.

Harry slipped out from behind her, letting her head fall down onto the bed. She didn’t have to wait long to feel his touch again. He was on top of her within seconds, the weight of his body pinning her in place as he slowly guided his tip inside her aching womanhood.

“You’re going to give me an heir, Mrs. Potter,” Harry hissed, his massive shaft splitting her pussy lips as his cock pushed into her tight core.

“L-Lily,” Daphne gasped, her walls burning as they stretched to accommodate his girth. He was slow, taking his time to push inside her, giving her the chance to get comfortable. “That’s what we’re naming her!” Daphne keened. Her lips parted and her tongue lolled out as she panted for breath. Her nipples were rock hard, and Harry almost lost his composure at the sight of them leaking milk, her body preparing itself for the baby he was going to put in her belly.

“What if it’s a boy?” Harry teased.

“N-no,” Daphne mumbled stubbornly. “It’ll be a girl. She’ll have her father’s beautiful eyes but her mother’s brains,” Daphne teased breathlessly.

“Careful, Mrs. Potter,” Harry hissed, his lips inches from her ear. His hot breath tickled her skin, causing her to shiver. Harry groaned as he bottomed out in her and he paused, taking a second to regain control over his body. “Or I might just revive the good old Pureblood practice of domestic discipline.”

Daphne’s eyes widened under the blindfold. “How… how do you know about that?” she asked hoarsely, her throat suddenly dry. She had accidentally walked in on her father doing it once, a memory that had never left her.

“Someone likes that idea,” Harry teased as a wave of arousal gushed out of her pussy and coated his cock. “You really can’t expect to talk about your etiquette lessons and not have me look them up.” He slowly rocked his hips, starting to thrust in and out of her tight pussy. Her walls fluttered around his length, massaging the veined rod, already trying to milk him for his seed. “I thought you hated it.”

She had thought that too. And then he crashed into her life like a wrecking ball.

“I like them with you,” Daphne mumbled shyly, her cheeks pink. A breathy moan escaped her lips as his tip brushed against her G-spot on its way to plunge deep into her belly. She could feel him press right up against her cervix in the position she was in. He pushed deeper and Daphne cried out, his tip brushing against the entrance to her womb sending a jolt of delicious pain racing up her spine.

“Why?”

“Guess mother was right. I just needed to find the right man,” Daphne mumbled, blushing furiously.

“Brace yourself,” Harry warned, waiting for her to tighten the hold on her ankles before he started to piston in and out of her. He rapidly picked up speed, thrusting into her slick core as hard and fast as he could.

Daphne forgot the outside world existed in the first thirty seconds. After the first minute, she was a moaning, incoherent mess, his ruthless thrusts causing his tip to push up against her cervix repeatedly, the perfect blend of pleasure and pain driving her crazy. Her belly bulged and breasts bounced with every thrust and Harry watched the sight with wide eyes, using every last bit of self-control he possessed to ensure he didn’t finish too soon.

“Haaaaary!” Daphne moaned, feeling a familiar coil of tension build up in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m yours, princess,” Harry promised, gritting his teeth. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his lips kissing down her creamy skin until he located her pulse point. His teeth clamped down on it, sucking a hickey onto her neck.

“O-oh! Please!” Daphne begged, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as a massive wave of pleasure crashed into her without warning. “HARRY!” she screamed as she came, her pussy gushing around the cock pistoning in and out of her.

Harry kept going, determined to prolong her pleasure for as long as possible. It was a losing fight in the end, however, and her walls clamping down around his shaft was too much to bear given his own highly aroused state.

He pushed deep into her one last time, collapsing on top of her body as he erupted with a roar. His throbbing manhood shot ropes of hot, sticky seed inside her, painting her walls and filling her up with his cum.

Harry lost track of time as they stayed like this for what seemed like an eternity. They held each other as they rode out their orgasms, basking in the post-orgasmic bliss.

By the time he pulled out of her Daphne had passed out, her quiet adorable snores the only sounds filling the quiet room. Her legs had slumped back on the bed sometime during their cuddling, and Harry could see his cum leaking out the minute he pulled out of her. Without wasting a second he grabbed the unique plug and stuffed it in her pussy, eliciting a quiet groan from the exhausted girl.

He rolled off her and got off the bed, covering her tired body with a blanket and kissing her head before he started to get dressed. He grabbed his bag and made sure she was comfortable and asleep before slipping out of the room. There was no one at the reception when he climbed down the stairs, which suited him just fine.

He walked out of the quiet building and made his way to the Main Street of the dark and deserted village. It was a cloudy, starless night, perfect for mayhem and mischief. After the events of the forest, prudence perhaps dictated he stay away from the castle for the night.

But retribution had been a long time coming, and he wouldn’t get as good a chance again. He had plausible deniability and it was a Friday night, which, according to Tracey’s intel, meant that most of Slytherin would be distracted.

Besides, even if the prank was traced back to him, it would only divert attention away from his involvement in the events surrounding Crouch’s murder. Harry chewed his lower lip worriedly, hoping Hermione had gotten to Krum in time and that he was alright.

He unlocked the side door of Honeydukes and slipped into the quiet shop, silently making his way to its cellar. The secret tunnel located there made getting to Hogwarts a matter of minutes. He emerged from the back of the statue of Bathilda the Bewildered and stepped onto a deserted third floor.

He tugged his Invisibility Cloak free from his bag and threw it over himself, carefully navigating his way through the hallway and down the steps. They had decided to rendezvous in front of the kitchens and Harry prayed his friends had made it there without being caught.

The basement was quiet and dark, which he took to be a good sign. He looked around for any sign of the Twins and Tracey once he approached the painting of the fruit bowl that guarded the entrance to the kitchens but couldn’t find them anywhere.

Desperate, he tugged the cloak off him and looked around, wondering if they had stepped into the kitchens for cocoa and warmth. “Hey,” he hissed, not daring to raise his voice. They were too close to the Potions classrooms for comfort, and Snape was the last person he wanted to meet.

“Finally.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the tapestry to his right was pushed aside and the Twins stepped out from the alcove it covered. Tracey was behind them, and her face broke out into a grin when she lit her wand and studied Harry.

“You’re late,” Fred said, walking over to Harry and squeezing his shoulder. “We were worried a Prefect or Teacher caught you. These two were ready to call it a night and run off to the kitchens to snog.” Fred smirked and jerked his thumb back at his brother and his girlfriend.

“You two need to learn to keep it in your pants,” Harry teased with a smirk.

Tracey snorted. “Look who’s talking.”

“W-what?”

“I mean we know you’re late because you were too busy sticking your dick in my best friend, Potter,” Tracey muttered, rolling her eyes.

“I wasn’t-”

“Your neck is covered with lipstick imprints Harry,” George pointed out, cutting him off before he could finish his weak, entirely unconvincing denial.

Tracey cackled when Harry’s hand immediately flew up to his neck, desperately rubbing his skin. “Sure, Potter. Smudge it. That’ll make things better.”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered, his cheeks pink. The outside world ceased to exist when he was with Daphne. Time seemed to stop, and the only thing that occupied his thoughts was his stunning girlfriend.

“What’d you tell her?” Fred asked, hoping Harry had come up with a convincing excuse for walking out in the middle of the night. Daphne wouldn’t approve of their actions, and if there was one person in the castle who actually scared him, it was the Ice Queen of Slytherin.

“Nothing,” Harry answered truthfully. “She won’t notice I’m gone.”

“Really?” George asked dubiously, appearing unconvinced.

“Let me guess. She bound, blindfolded, and fucked into a coma,” Tracey cackled, ignoring Harry’s scandalized expression. “Yeah, he’s right, she won’t notice he’s gone. He left her in her happy place. Once she gets a good dicking from Harry not even Draco trying to hit on her pisses her off. Usually, people end up in the Hospital Wing for their arrogance and for daring to think they have a chance with her,” Tracey said with a smirk.

“H-how do you know that?” Harry stammered, frowning. He ignored his cock stirring in his pants, his body clearly reacting to the news that nothing made Daphne happier than him fucking her brains out.

“Like every good Pureblood girl Daphne was taught to suppress her emotions and let it all out into a personal diary when it gets to be too much. I read it from time to time.” Tracey shrugged.

“Tracey that’s not-”

“Relax Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes.” Tracey rolled her eyes and cut Harry off before he could finish speaking. “She knows I read it and can put a stop to it anytime she wants to. It’s her way of telling me things she’s too shy or emotionally repressed to talk about,” Tracey explained with a smirk. “If you’re a good boy I’ll show you the pages where she talks about you.”

“Pages?” Harry asked, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm.

“Yep. There’s a lot.” Tracey cackled with unbridled glee. “She goes on and on about how sexy you are, how she wants your hands on her body, how you’re a brain-dead irritating Gryffindor pain in her ass but all she wants is for you to pin her against the wall, shove her legs apart and-”

“I get it,” Harry said, clearing his throat loudly to drown out her words.

Tracey kept going, undeterred by his feeble attempts to shut her up. “-mind you, this was back when they were both pretending like they weren’t madly in love with each other,” she said, turning to Fred and George, both of whom sported identical grins on their faces.

“Look at ickle Harrykins, all grown up,” Fred said, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

“So studly, so manly. Men, hide your girlfriends,” George added, his grin growing at the sight of Harry’s red face.

“You know, I’m pretty sure she called him those exact same words somewhere in her most recent diary,” Tracey said thoughtfully. “There was a lot of daydreaming about buying the perfect house and settling in with Harry… sappy nonsense, so I skipped over it. Must have missed some of the good stuff too.”

“Tracey,” Harry begged desperately, not wanting the Twins to have any more ammunition to tease him with.  “We’re out in the open. Anyone can catch us,” he pointed out, deciding on a different approach to distract his friend. “And if we do get caught, it means no revenge. We’ve been planning this for nearly a month. Do you really want it to fail because you’re overly interested in what Daphne and I do in private?”

Tracey huffed. “Fine. How are we doing this?”

“Fred and I spent last week combing through all the toilets in the bathroom next to the Slytherin Common Room. We found a pipe that feeds water into the bathrooms in the dorms.”

“Alright. So you carry out that part of the plan while I follow Tracey into the snake pit under my Invisibility Cloak. As I mentioned, it won’t be my first time and I still remember the general layout of the Common Room.”

“Perfect.” Tracey leaned up to kiss her boyfriend. “I’ll join you in the kitchens once we’re done.”

“We’ll be there.” Fred nodded.

“We?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, ickle Harrykins,” George muttered, biting back a groan as he reluctantly pulled away from Tracey. “Not all of us are uncontrollable horndogs like you. Me, Tracey, Fred, and Angelina are having a double date.”

“At half past midnight?”

“Well, it might be more of a party,” George conceded. “Seamus found a way to make his Exploding Snap deck… explodier and he’s putting on a show for us and a few select friends.”

“Can’t wait,” Tracey said with a grin. She leaned up to kiss George’s cheek one last time before walking down the hallway toward the dungeons.

Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself and followed her silently, knowing this was the riskiest part of their mission. He did not want to know what Malfoy and his cronies would do to him if he was caught in the Slytherin Common Room but given the fact that they had a literal drowning room in their House, he doubted it was anything good.

They climbed down the steps into the dungeons and slowly made their way past the shut doors, down the hallway to the blank wall at the very end.

“Noble Blood,” Tracey said slowly, and Harry had to roll his eyes at the clichéd password.

“What, was Pureblood taken?” He whispered to Tracey, who chuckled quietly.

“Apparently that was a little too on the nose, even for this lot.”

Like she had predicted, the Common Room was empty. The entire room was suffused with an eerie blue-green glow, although Harry could find no visible light source. The flames in the single small fireplace had died out hours ago. The entire room was damp, gloomy, and depressing.

Harry forced himself not to look up, knowing they were directly under the lake. Having to live under its oppressive weight, and seeing the huge mass of water swirling over you every time you looked up after having survived a near-drowning would have messed with anyone’s mental health. For the first time, Harry realized just how terrified Daphne must have been. For the judges to choose her as his prize was absolutely unforgivable.

“Are you sure we can’t enter the dorms?” Harry asked, gritting his teeth. He pulled his wand out, his grip so strong that his knuckles turned white.

“Not unless you want to walk in on Pansy playing with Malfoy’s miniature wand,” Tracey muttered, feeling bile rising in her throat. “Which I don’t, so no. We can’t. We have a plan, let’s stick to it and get out before we’re caught.”

Harry nodded for a second, stopping when he realized she couldn’t see him. “Right,” he murmured, looking around the Common Room. “Let’s do it.”

It took them the better part of an hour to finish. Luckily they weren’t interrupted, which saved Harry from relying on their contingency of stunning Tracey and running out of the Common Room in a mad dash.

They exited the Common Room the minute they finished, neither of them eager to stick around after what they had done.

Once they were a safe distance from the Common Room Harry poked his head out from under the cloak and looked at Tracey. Both of them sported matching grins on their faces.

“We did it,” Harry said, pleased with how smoothly everything had gone.

“Yes, yes we did,” Tracey replied, her eyes gleaming with happiness. Payback was a bitch and revenge… oh, that was a dish best-served cold. “All of them are going to have a very bad day tomorrow.”

“I’d say they’re in for a very bad week.”

“A month, if we’re lucky.”

Harry chuckled and nodded.

“Do you want to join us?” Tracey asked, jerking her thumb in the direction of the kitchens.

“Nah. I’d better get back to Daphne before she realizes I’m not in bed with her.”

“You’re so whipped,” Tracey teased. She paused, her grin growing. “So is she. You two have a weird relationship.”

“It works.”

“I know. She’s never been happier,” Tracey whispered, leaning up to kiss Harry’s cheek. “See you around, Potter.”

With that, she ran down the hallway, eager to join her boyfriend and their friends.

Harry was in no such hurry. He pulled the cloak back over his head and ambled down the corridor, lost in fantasies about his future with Daphne.

He nearly collided with the door when it slammed open.

“Enough!”

Harry’s eyes widened. That sounded like Snape. In his panic he forgot he was wearing the Invisibility Cloak and dove behind the closest tapestry he could find, squeezing his body into the tiny alcove it covered.

It was indeed Snape, and he wasn’t alone.

Harry frowned when he heard the other voice.

Karkaroff?

What was he doing in the castle? Given the man’s history and the fact that his scar hurt every time he looked at him… he doubted it was anything good.

A part of him was convinced Karkaroff was the one behind Crouch’s murder. After all, who else had easier access to Krum? And it was obvious the man hated Crouch, although Harry had to wonder what had prompted him to lose control after nearly a year of tolerating the man. Or was it Crouch who had finally snapped and attacked him?

Had it been self-defense?

Was that why he was here, seeking help from the one teacher who did not hate his guts?

So many questions, so few answers.

“Look at it, Severus!” Karkaroff growled.

Harry gently shifted the tapestry once he realized he was under the Invisibility Cloak. Its protection meant his chances of being detected were infinitesimally low. He needed to see what Karkaroff was showing Snape, especially after what had happened in the forest a few hours ago. His mark hurt every time he looked at Karkaroff and the last time that had happened with a teacher…

He wouldn’t forget the sight of Voldemort’s face jutting out of the back of Quirell’s head for as long as he lived.

He peeked through the crack he had created, frowning when he saw Karkaroff thrust his arm in Snape’s face. His Potions Professor for his part looked completely unbothered.

“I have eyes, Igor. I can see it,” Snape drawled. “Mine has been darkening for a while as well.”

“Now do you believe me?! He’s back, Severus. And he’s going after his old enemies. You saw what he did to Crouch in the forest.”

“Do you really think the Dark Lord is camping in the Forbidden Forest, right under Dumbledore’s nose?” Snape hissed, his eyes flashing with anger. They were in a very public place, but Karkaroff had rebuffed any attempts of his to keep him in his office.

Harry’s frown deepened at the man’s words. It seemed Crouch and Krum had been discovered, but Karkaroff sounded panicked about the man’s death, not happy like he had suspected. It was possible he was putting on an act for Snape’s benefit, but if that was true, he had to be the best actor Harry had ever come across. The fear in his voice was genuine.

Karkaroff was scared out of his mind, and somehow Harry found that fact even more ominous than an admission that he was the one who had killed Crouch and imperioused Krum.

“You know he has followers everywhere! There’s someone…” Karkaroff paused. He recoiled from Snape, a terrified expression on his face. “Was it you?!”

Snape appeared bored. “Yes, Igor. I killed Crouch, thereby giving up the only thing keeping me safe. Do you really think Dumbledore will extend his protection to me if I go on killing sprees in his school?”

Harry could only see the back of his head, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if Snape was rolling his eyes at Karkaroff’s stupidity.

“Everyone thinks it was you,” Snape said, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “After all, it was your student who was found near the body.”

“If I had done it I wouldn’t be stupid enough to-” Karkaroff growled, pausing mid-sentence. He shook his head. “He has supporters in the castle. He wants to send a message. He’s going after his enemies. Did you not see the flare in the air? Whoever killed Crouch wanted the body to be discovered! It’s the World Cup all over again!”

Harry frowned. Daphne had been the one to leave the flare. Her desire to make sure Crouch and Krum were discovered without his involvement being known seemed to have unintended consequences. He now knew Karkaroff had nothing to do with the murder.

The fear in his voice, in his eyes, was too real, too genuine for this to be an act. Nobody was this good at putting on a show. It also meant (and he hated to admit it), that Karkaroff’s theory was correct. If he wasn’t the killer, it was someone else in the castle.

Harry suddenly wished he could go back to the simpler days when the only things he had to worry about were facing a dragon and his growing feelings for Slytherin’s Ice Queen.

Karkaroff’s hushed voice broke him free from his thoughts and he turned his head, pressing his ear against the tapestry to catch the whispered words.

“What do you plan to do?”

“Nothing,” Snape replied shortly.

“Nothing?! He’s back! We know that now! The Mark, the killing… how long before he comes for the ones who betrayed him? How long before he comes for us?!” Karkaroff asked, agitated. “He does not forget. He does not forgive. And I testified, Severus, against Bellatrix of all people…” Karkaroff whined pathetically. He was scared witless, his bulging eyes darting around the deserted hallway as if he thought Voldemort would materialize out of thin air and strike him down.

“Then flee!” Snape barked, his patience running thin. “Run if you want! I’m staying put.”

“Madness!” Karkaroff threw his hands in the air and strode off down the hallway. Snape glared at the man until he turned a corner and was out of sight, before turning himself. His long cloak billowed behind him as he made his way down to the dungeons and his quarters, leaving Harry alone once more.

Harry cautiously stepped out of the alcove, patting the tapestry to make sure it looked undisturbed. The castle was a dangerous place these days, especially for those who eavesdropped on conversations that no one else was meant to hear. Daphne couldn’t always be around to save his skin.

Daphne, Harry thought grimly as he walked into the dark and empty Atrium. The doors to the Great Hall were still open, the few candles that still remained lit casting long shadows over the quiet room. Karkaroff was nowhere to be seen.

Not that it mattered. He was scum but of the cowardly variety. He hadn’t killed Crouch, nor had he imperioused Krum.

Which meant a killer once more roamed the hallways of Hogwarts.

“For once, can’t we have someone nice?” Harry mumbled under his breath, talking to himself. He walked out into the Courtyard, the cool wind causing the Invisibility Cloak to flutter around his ankles. His feet poked out below the edges of the garment, but thankfully the darkness meant that even if he ran across someone on the short trek back to Hogsmeade, they were unlikely to notice them.

Daphne, he thought again, his thoughts turning to the beautiful girl sleeping blissfully in their little slice of heaven in Club Black, completely unaware of the danger she was in.

For where else would the killer have come from? Slytherins had always been bullies, but the recent stories Daphne and Tracey had shared with him proved that there was an undercurrent of darkness in that House. A disease rotted Slytherin from the inside, consuming nearly everyone unlucky enough to be sorted into it.

If they were seemingly fine with nearly drowning a terrified first year (Harry was still convinced the only reason Flint had intervened was because of Daphne’s last name, and had it been anyone else, they’d have let them drown and tried to pass the whole thing off as an accident), it wasn’t that big a leap to imagine they’d be willing to kill a man at the command of the evil wanker they all seemed to worship.

Which meant neither Daphne nor Tracey were safe. Not while they lived in Slytherin. They already spent most of their time outside the House, but he knew he had to formally ask Daphne to move in with him, and to make sure George did the same for Tracey.

And if someone… Well, he could only think of one person who’d have a problem. No Gryffindor other than Ron had complained about Daphne and Tracey attending their parties, or about them spending time in the Common Room. He doubted Seamus, Dean, or Neville would have a problem with Daphne calling their dormitory home. Neville, he suspected, would be secretly delighted.

It amused him to no end to see how protective his girlfriend was of Neville. No Slytherin dared to bully his shy friend because they all knew doing so would incur Daphne Greengrass’ wrath. She even partnered with him in Potions as much as possible, keeping him safe from the worst of Snape’s wrath.

No, he didn’t have to worry about Neville. He was also certain Dean and Lavender wouldn’t mind, nor would Seamus. He just had to make sure Ron didn’t run around yapping about Daphne’s new living situation.

“If he’s the reason Daphne and Tracey have to keep living in Slytherin I’m going to pick him up and toss him right out the window,” Harry muttered, snow crunching under his feet as he stepped onto the deserted road that would lead him back to Hogsmeade.

As for the murderer, Harry tried not to think about it. He could only focus on so much at any given time, and right now his attention was needed on making sure Daphne and Tracey were safe, and on surviving the last task of the Tournament.

That was all a problem for the future. For now, the only things he wanted to think about were the warm bed and the gorgeous woman waiting for him.

Notes:

Remember to vote for what kind of tattoo you want Daphne to get! Lightning Bolt? A vibrating snitch? Just scroll down a little to get to the poll! Things do be heating up, and Harry comes to a very important realization. He finally understands there's a tangible meaning to 'the power of love' and that he'll always fight harder than Voldy because he has someone to fight for. I do love leaving Easter Eggs in my chapters, and there are a lot of them in this one that will be very relevant to future chapters!