The Grass Is Always Greener Chapter 29. (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Teasing.

“What about this?” Daphne stepped out of the changing room in a pale blue dress. She walked over to where Harry was sitting and twirled, causing the lower part of her dress to flare out.

“It’s gorgeous, Daph,” Harry murmured with a fond smile.

“Is it?” Daphne turned and studied her reflection in the large floor-to-ceiling mirror with a critical eye. Now entering her fourth month of pregnancy, it was getting impossible to hide the bump that housed and protected the two girls growing inside her. It also meant that most of her clothes (especially ones of the more risqué variety) didn’t fit her anymore. She was trying her best not to be grumpy about that but she couldn’t help the panic that gripped her chest as she stared at the stranger in the mirror.

The woman she was looking at wasn’t the same woman Harry had fallen in love with.

“This is too frumpy. I’m going to ask Natalie if she has something sleeveless. And dresses that are at least somewhat tighter than this bloody burlap sack,” she said, swishing the skirt of her dress.

“Daph, it’s perfect. I like it. It’s beautiful and it suits you.”

“Are you sure? Because those are the exact same words that you used for each and every one of them,” Daphne mumbled and pointed to the small pile of dresses she had set aside on a stool.

Harry smiled and pushed himself off the couch. “That’s because it’s true. They’re all quite similar, love. And I love all of them.”

“The dresses are similar because they’re all I can wear while I have two babies in me, Potter,” Daphne growled. “It’s all your fault!”

“My fault?” Harry grinned and raised an eyebrow. “How is it my fault?”

“You impregnated me!”

“Oh, do you mean to imply you were a less than enthusiastic participant, Mrs. Potter?” Harry asked in a low growl. He wrapped his arms around Daphne’s waist and pulled her closer, his smile growing at the sound of her breath audibly hitching.

“N-never said that,” Daphne mumbled. She tried her damnedest not to stare at his broad chest, not to run her fingers over his firm muscles and lose herself in her unfairly gorgeous husband.

Fucking pregnancy hormones, she thought and pushed her thighs together.

“But if you weren’t so annoyingly hot and dominant and if you didn’t have a perfect dick I wouldn’t have been so eager to get impregnated,” Daphne said, pretending to scowl.

“Oh, I have a perfect dick, do I?”

“It’s alright.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard the word perfect,” Harry whispered.

“Harry.” Daphne pressed her palms against his chest to ensure he maintained a respectable distance from her. Getting caught having her brains railed out and guts rearranged by her husband in the changing room of a clothing store wasn’t on her agenda for her first trip to Muggle London. “Don’t hold back. Be honest. How do I look?”

“Beautiful. Angelic. Eminently fuckable,” Harry whispered.

Daphne bit her lip. Her hold on his chest faltered and he leaned closer, his lips dangerously close to the pulse point throbbing in her neck.

“Not a disgusting whale you don’t want to touch?”

“Daphne, you’ve never been more beautiful to me than you are right now. And you get more beautiful with each passing day,” Harry admitted. He slowly kissed along her jaw, lazily making his way to her lips.

“Promise me our relationship won’t change once Lily and Belladonna are here.”

“I can’t because it will. It’ll be better.”

His lips had shifted lower, pushing her dress out of the way as he kissed along her collarbone. The snitch on her thigh buzzed to life and fluttered. Daphne gasped softly as the feathery wing gently caressed her clit.

“They say it takes a village to raise a child. We’ll have two children, Harry,” Daphne whispered, worrying her lower lip.

“We’ll have a village, love. Your parents. Sirius and Remus. Tonks. Their amazing godparents. Their uncles Fred and Neville. Their auntie Mione…”

A discreet cough made him pull away from her before they could go any further.

“Hey,” Harry said, grinning shamelessly at their shopping assistant as he made his way over to the couch.

Daphne glared at Harry but he simply smirked and refused to kill the charm animating the clit. She pressed her legs together but that only worsened the situation. A trickle of arousal leaked out of her and ran down her leg, and she could only pray that it wouldn’t stain the bloody dress she was wearing. He watched her squirm for a few seconds with an insufferable smirk plastered on his face before he finally killed the charm.

“Is that the one you’ve chosen? It’s an excellent choice!”

“That’s what I told her. Can you take off the tag from that dress and pack these Natalie?” Harry pointed to the dresses on the stool. “We’ll take them all.”

“Harry!”

“What?”

“That’s fifteen dresses! I just need five or six.”

Natalie picked up the dresses and scampered out of the room.

“You need maternity clothes.”

“Yeah, for evenings. I’ll be in the special uniforms Madam Malkin has designed for me most of the time.”

“You liked them, didn’t you?” Harry asked with a knowing smile.

“Yes,” Daphne said shyly. Being kinky in bed was one thing but she was still getting used to Harry treating her like a princess outside the bedroom as well. Being pampered instead of having to take care of herself felt good, not that she ever planned to admit that to him.

“Good.” Harry leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Come on.”

“Thank you, daddy,” Daphne whispered. She slipped her hand in his as they exited the changing room and walked down the stairs to the billing counter.

Natalie had already packed the dresses and the clothes Daphne had been wearing in two bags. The brunette leaned over the counter and deftly cut the tag on Daphne’s dress with small scissors. She pushed the tag against the barcode reader and printed out the final bill, holding it out for Harry.

Harry quickly scanned the bill and dug out his wallet from his back pocket.

“So Muggles pay with pieces of paper?” Daphne whispered, staring at the green notes Harry had passed Natalie with interest. “Are they like our promissory notes?”

“Something like that.” Harry smiled at Natalie and picked up their bags. He slung them on his free arm and tightened his hold around Daphne’s hand, leading her out of the store and into Muggle London. “You know, Ron warned me that you’d empty my wallet,” Harry teased, waving it in front of Daphne’s face.

“That’s delightfully sexist.” Daphne rolled her eyes. “But I’m glad you’re reconnecting with him. Just remember to tell him I paid for all our Hogwarts shopping when you meet him on the train.”

“You are?” Harry asked in surprise.

“He’s a moron and I doubt I’ll ever like him but he was… is your friend. You need every friend you have to survive what’s ahead. I want to be the reason your life gets better, Harry. Not worse.”

“You’re perfect,” Harry whispered and bent to kiss her forehead.

Daphne blushed. “What else did he say?”

“We mostly avoided talking about you or discussing our upcoming marriage. He did say I’d be bored out of my mind and suggested I try and find a way to wriggle out of going shopping with you,” Harry said with a grin.

“What’d you tell him?”

“That I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my afternoon than watching my B.A.E. wife-to-be model new clothes.”

“Bae?”

“Beautiful. Angelic. Eminently fuckable,” Harry smirked.

“You did not call me eminently fuckable in front of Ronald!”

“Not in so many words. But a perceptive man would’ve understood my feelings. Since Ron isn’t one-”

“You get to live. For now,” Daphne muttered. She rested her head on her shoulder and sighed.

They reached the bus stop just as their bus was pulling in. Harry helped her into the bus before climbing in himself. It was mostly empty and they had no trouble finding seats next to each other.

Harry wrapped an arm around Daphne’s shoulders and pulled her into his chest. The tired girl buried her face in his shirt and was dead to the world within seconds, snoring cutely.

“She’s beautiful,” the old woman seated across the aisle said.

“That she is.”

“I hope you’re planning to put a ring on that, young man.” The woman pointed to Daphne’s bare hand.

“I am. Just waiting for the one I ordered to be ready.”

“Good.” The woman stood once the bus had shuddered to a halt. “This is my stop. You take care.” She smiled at the couple and doddered off the bus.

Harry spent the rest of the bus ride mulling over all the information he had learned in his daily lessons with Cyrus Greengrass. They were now fairly certain that Voldemort had multiple Horcruxes. But that was all they knew. How many had he made? Where were they?

They had a million unanswered questions and Dumbledore had successfully evaded Cyrus' every attempt to question him. They had one book, a singular source of information to rely on. Cyrus’ attempts to find more texts on Horcruxes through both legal and less-than-legal means had been utterly stymied. His hopes of finding something in Britain dashed, the man had been forced to tap into his sources abroad but he had warned Harry his efforts would take time, especially with Fudge watching them all like a hawk, waiting for them to slip.

Harry sighed and tightened his hold around Daphne. The asleep blonde wriggled and tried to get comfortable, snuggling deeper into him for warmth.

Harry went over the information that they did know. They knew that however many Horcruxes Voldemort had made, he had none of them on his person or in Malfoy Manor. Horcruxes couldn’t be kept too close to each other for long periods of time. Being so close and yet being unable to bond was too traumatizing for the fractured pieces of the person’s soul. Which meant Voldemort had been forced to hide the ones he had created in separate places.

It meant they wouldn’t have to defeat him to destroy the Horcruxes. But the bad news, as Cyrus had so succinctly put it, was that it also meant that every bog, marsh, and bloody green pasture on the island was a potential hiding place.

Lacking better options, Cyrus and Amelia had resorted to plotting each and every magical hotspot on the island on a map. They had no option other than to investigate them all and keep trying to arrange meetings with Dumbledore so they could find out what he knew.

“Hey,” Harry whispered, gently shaking Daphne once the bus trundled into the village. “We’re home, love. Wake up.”

“Hmm?” Daphne reluctantly pushed herself away from Harry. She yawned cutely and stretched in her seat, resisting the urge to snuggle back inside Harry. He was warm and soft and perfect…

“What’re you thinking?”

“Nothing.” Daphne blushed and hastily looked away from him. She turned and stared out the window. Lively London had been replaced by the sleepy village close to their seaside cottage. “Why is it so dark?” she asked, staring at the overcast sky and black clouds rolling in from the horizon.

“That’s weird. Maybe it’s going to rain,” Harry murmured. It had been sunny for nearly the entire journey. The change was dramatic enough to be jarring but they didn’t have any time to dwell on it.

The bus halted at the tiny bus stop and Harry helped Daphne to her feet. They were the only passengers remaining and the driver saw them off with a smile and a wave.

“Fog season is early this year,” Daphne murmured. The light fog was rapidly getting denser, making it difficult to see more than five feet in front of them. When Harry didn’t respond she turned to him, frowning when she saw him holding his forehead.

“Darling, what’s wrong?”

“My scar hurts. It was a flash of pain just as we were getting off the bus and it’s still throbbing,” Harry muttered through gritted teeth.

“Your scar is hurting?! But the last time it hurt-”

“It’s not as bad as the graveyard,” Harry said, cutting her off. “It’s been prickling all summer but it didn’t hurt until today.”

“It usually hurts when he’s around, right?”

“Normally, yeah.”

Daphne looked around at the quiet village, quickly formulating a plan. Muggles wouldn’t be of any help, especially against a wizard of Voldemort’s caliber. Their village had a single Muggle Auror and he didn’t even carry a weapon like the ones she had seen on telly.

“What’re you thinking?”

“I’m trying to imagine Mr. Flinders clubbing Voldemort on the head with his baton.”

Harry glanced at the portly, friendly policeman helping an old lady cross the street and laughed.

“Now that will be a sight.”

“Do you have your wand?”

“Never leave home without it. But we can’t cast magic outside our house, Daph. We don’t have wards to shield us from the Ministry.”

“The Statute allows us to use magic in life and death situations,” Daphne said, digging her own wand out of her purse.

“What’s the plan?”

“The plan is we run-”

“No,” Harry growled, matching Daphne’s glare with one of his own.

“You didn’t even listen to my plan!”

“You want us to run to the cottage. Except you can’t run. So you want me to run and you plan to buy me time.”

“I’ll be in the pub. Surrounded by Muggles. I’ll be fine, he won’t do anything to me there,” Daphne said. Even she couldn’t make it sound believable.

“We both know Voldemort will kill them all to get to you. No.”

“Harry, our only chance is to get to the cottage. The person the Order has tailing us will inform them and my parents at the first hint of trouble. The wards will protect us until they get here but we need to be in the cottage for the plan to work!”

“Okay. Then let’s go to the cottage.”

“I can’t run! He wants you.”

“After your little stunt in the graveyard, I’m pretty sure he wants both of us.” Harry extended his free hand. “Come on.”

“How badly is your scar hurting?”

“Less now,” Harry lied.

Daphne raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, slightly more. But that’s only because we’re standing here, wasting our time talking.”

“Are you-”

“Together or not at all,” Harry said firmly.

Daphne placed her hand in his and they set off on a brisk walk. They had left the village within minutes. Daphne ignored the pain blooming in her ankles as they made their way down the country road that led to their cottage. Their brisk walk was already too slow, she had no intention of making Harry slow down even further. She clutched her wand tightly, her knuckles turning white in the process.

“Why isn’t he here?” Harry muttered. He was tense, his alert green eyes scanning their surroundings and investigating the source of every sound. “Do you think he’s waiting for us in the house?”

“No chance. Papa would have known the minute the wards came down and warned us. He could be waiting outside the wards but going there is still our best bet.”

“I doubt he’ll make the mistake of underestimating us again.”

“Remember what Tonks has taught you. You’ll be fine,” Daphne said. Her reassurance felt hollow but it was the best she could do.

“I hope she’s the one tailing us today. I like our odds much better if she’s watching our backs,” Harry muttered.

The fog had gotten so dense that it was impossible to see anything other than what was right in front of them. An unnatural and unseasonal chill settled in and Daphne shivered.

“Drop the bags, Harry. They’re weighing down your wand hand.”

“Daph-”

“They’re just dresses, Harry. We can get more,” Daphne said, smiling despite the situation. Harry always put her happiness and safety first. Even in the face of danger. She could only hope to be worthy of such a love. “How’s your scar?”

“Worse,” Harry whispered. He carefully placed their shopping on the road before running to catch up. “It’s throbbing now. He’s close, Daphne.”

“The fog should shield our approach.”

Harry nodded. A sense of dread gripped his chest. It was like someone… something had sucked out all happiness from him. Even Daphne felt distant. He barely registered her touch and her voice sounded dull and lifeless.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed, his eyes widening.

“Harry?”

“It’s not him. Come on,” Harry hissed. He grabbed Daphne’s hand and started walking as fast as possible. “Do you know how to cast a Patronus?”

“A corporeal Patronus? That’s NEWT-level magic, Harry. Why would I even… no,” Daphne said in a horrified whisper.

“The cold. The fog. You’re feeling panicky, aren’t you?”

“That’s a natural reaction to the fear of Voldemort murdering you and our unborn children!”

“No. It’s deeper than that. It’s an existential dread.”

Daphne nodded reluctantly. “The sort of fear that only an eldritch creature can evoke,” she mumbled.

“I need you to concentrate on your happiest memory,” Harry said. He tensed at the sound of swishing cloaks. His scar was on fire and his head felt like it would explode any second. He ignored the pain and forced himself to focus on the memory of his night with Daphne at the Yule Ball. “Close your eyes. No matter what happens, do not let go of that memory.”

The fog was oppressively thick. He could barely see Daphne. Her ragged breathing sounded distant and only her shoulder bumping against his arm with every step assured him that she was still next to him.

They came in groups. He spotted the two in front of him first. The hooded figures stood in the middle of the road, blocking their path. He could hear the swishing of robes behind him. There was at least one behind them, possibly more but he couldn’t risk looking back to check. The ones in front of them were closing in, their black cloaks standing out clearly in the gloomy mist.

Harry ignored the panic gripping his chest. Daphne was trembling next to him and he reluctantly pulled away from her, knowing she’d be safer if he made himself the bigger and more dangerous target. He waited until the dementors had gotten close enough that he could hear their rattling, rasping breathing. He raised his wand and thought about Daphne, focusing on their love with every fiber of his being.

“E-expecto,” he gasped out and stopped. His scar had exploded in a burst of searing pain, nearly incapacitating him. His vision blurred and his knees buckled but he raised his wand again. “Expecto Patronum!” Harry shouted, watching as silver tendrils shot out of his wand.

The dementors faltered and then withdrew as the tendrils made their way towards them. Before they could dissipate Harry concentrated on his magic, making the silvery tendrils bend to his will. He couldn’t summon the strength to create a proper patronus but he molded them into a thin, weak sphere of protection around himself and Daphne.

“Daphne?!”

“I’m fine,” came the weak reply.

Harry looked back, his heart sinking at the sight of Daphne curled up on the dirt road. Her hair was free, the golden tresses obscuring her face from sight. She had lost one of her sandals and he could see that her dress was ripped in at least two places. Her arms were protectively wrapped around her belly.

“Harry!” she yelled, raising a trembling hand in warning.

He turned around to see what she was pointing at. One of the dementors had pushed its hand through the shield. The creature ignored the burns caused by the spell on the rotting flesh of its hand and kept pushing, breaking through the shield slowly but surely.

“I can’t do more… not with this scar, AH!” Harry clutched his head with his left hand as the pain behind his scar spiked without warning. “Where is the Order member that’s supposed to be protecting us?!”

“I don’t know. Harry, our babies… they can’t-”

Daphne’s muffled voice died out as the shield collapsed. The three dementors swooped in. The one closest to Harry reached out with a skeletal hand, grabbing his shirt and lifting him off the ground and closer to its hooded mouth.

Harry blacked out as the pain finally overcame the last defenses of his mind. He could feel the tension in his head, roiling and pushing against the barrier protecting the rest of him from it.

“Happy memories. Happy memories… Daphne…”

His grip on his wand was slipping. The dementor was taking its time, savoring the hard-fought victory against its opponent. He could feel the tug in his chest and the pressure behind his scar increased. The pain was too much and Harry finally gave up fighting against it. His body spasmed in the dementor’s grip as the stabbing ache in his head reached a crescendo. He could feel the growing pressure in his chest and knew he was seconds away from losing his soul.

It was going… going… gone… he felt lighter, floating without a care in the world…

A scream brought him crashing back to reality.

Daphne. Their children!

His eyes snapped open and he came face to face with the creature that was in the process of claiming his soul. Its massive toothless mouth was inches from his lips. A blast of its fetid breath slammed into his skin every few seconds. It helped him stay grounded and for that, he was very thankful.

“Not them. Never them,” Harry growled, his green eyes tinted with red. There were no happy memories in him. Not anymore. All that remained was cold fury, the kind that only true love could generate. He did not want to banish the dementor anymore. He would kill whoever… whatever came for his wife and children. He raised his wand and pushed the tip against the dementor’s cloak.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry roared. A huge silvery stag shot out of his wand, its antlers impaling the dementor’s chest. Harry could feel massive resistance but he kept pushing, urging his patronus forward. It shot through the creature and the dementor’s flesh burned away until all that remained was an empty cloak that fluttered to the ground.

Harry groaned as he landed on top of the ragged cloak. He pointed his wand at the other dementor and his stag charged but the creature did not wait to share the same fate. It withdrew with a loud screech.

Harry whirled around to see Daphne hoisted in the air by the third dementor. Her eyes were still clamped shut but she was kicking her legs in a futile attempt to get away. Her arms were still wrapped around her belly. The stag charged before Harry could even raise his wand. It rammed into the dementor before the creature could understand what was happening. The force of the impact pushed Daphne free from the dementor’s clutches and she dropped to the ground with a sickening crunch.

The stag carried the burning dementor away, its screeching ringing in Harry’s ears.

“H-harry?” Daphne mumbled through tears. She finally opened her eyes, hiccuping quietly.

“It’s okay. They’re gone. Let me take a look at your ankle, love,” Harry murmured as he crawled towards Daphne. He winced when he saw the swollen, bruised ankle. “I think it’s fractured. Wait a second.”

He got up and limped over to where the dementor’s abandoned cloak lay. He picked it up and walked over to Daphne, kneeling next to her.

“Our… Lily and Belladonna!” Daphne cried, trembling violently.

“I know. It’s okay. They’re safe,” Harry murmured, forcing himself to stay calm. He used the cloth to make an extremely rudimentary splint for her ankle. He helped her stand and made her lean against him. “Come on. We need to get behind the wards. They can come back,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Progress was slow and every hop sent a spike of pain shooting up Daphne’s spine. She simply gritted her teeth and kept hopping with Harry’s support, unwilling to stop for even a second.

Harry collapsed onto the soft grass of their garden the moment they walked through the boundary that signified the extent of the wards around their house. The air inside the wards was clear but the fog outside hadn’t dissipated yet. Harry knew the dementors were still out there but he also knew they wouldn’t be able to break through the wards easily so he let Daphne rest on the grass for a few minutes.

The anger and adrenaline that had fueled him was slowly dissipating. Every muscle in his body ached and he could barely keep his eyes open. Summoning the last of his willpower he pushed his hands under Daphne’s body and picked her up bridal style. He slowly carried her into the house and to their couch, sinking to his knees next to her once he had set her down on the sofa.

“Dementors… Harry, how were they here?” Daphne asked weakly.

“I don’t know.”

“I… I should have learned. I should have known how to cast one. Lily and Belladonna would have died because of me-”

“No,” Harry said fiercely. He reached out and took her hand. “Nobody in our year knows how to create a patronus. Not even Hermione. The only reason I know how to cast that spell is because Remus went out of his way to teach me. You have nothing, nothing to apologize for.”

“They never leave Azkaban…”

“Now they do,” Harry muttered with a tired sigh. “I need to talk to your father. I don’t think the dementors can cross the wards around the house but I’m not taking any chances.”

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did Professor Lupin teach you the spell?”

“The dementors always thought I was an extra tasty snack for some reason,” Harry replied calmly as he piled up logs in the fireplace and lit them with a quick spell. “Kept coming after me in our third year so he taught me how to protect myself.”

“You sound different,” Daphne mumbled tiredly. “Is the pain gone?”

Harry glanced up at his scar and frowned in surprise. He hadn’t even noticed the sudden absence of the throbbing behind his scar.

“Yeah. I guess they’ve left. I’m still not taking any chances. I know we only have three days left before we go back to Hogwarts but I’m going to ask your father to strengthen the ward runes,” Harry said, tossing a handful of floo powder into the blazing fire.

He waited for the flames to turn green. Once they had, he kneeled, took a deep breath, and poked his head into the fire.

“Greengrass manor,” he said. His stomach lurched as the magic pulled his face through the connection until his face emerged into the fireplace in Cyrus’ study.

“Harry!” Cyrus looked up from the papers on his desk. He frowned at the sight of the cut on Harry’s forehead. “You’re bleeding. What happened?”

“We were shopping in London. Dementors attacked us on the way back. They were waiting for us near the cottage,” Harry said, deciding to keep things short and to the point.

“Dementors?” Cyrus’ frown deepened. He pushed his chair away from his desk and stood, slowly walking over to the fireplace. “I think there’s something wrong with the connection, son. I just heard you say dementors attacked you.”

“That’s what I said,” Harry said with a grim smile. “You didn’t hear me wrong. They were here. Three of them.”

“In the south of England?!”

“Yep.”

“Okay.” Cyrus ruthlessly suppressed his rising panic but couldn’t stop his voice from trembling. “Can I talk to the Order member guarding you? I’ll have them patch up the wards while I grab a cursebreaker from Gringotts. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“There is no Order member. And before you get a cursebreaker-”

“Wait. There’s no one guarding you?!” Cyrus roared, cutting Harry off.

Harry shook his head tiredly. “No one came to our rescue. I drove the dementors away.”

“I am going to find where Dumbledore is hiding and nail him to a bloody wall. I was assured a member of the Order would be guarding you and Daphne at all times, day and night!”

“Before you do that you need to get a Healer. Daphne broke her ankle. We’re in no condition to go to Mungo’s.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Cyrus’ rage was immediately replaced by concern for his daughter. “Elevate her foot, make sure she doesn’t put any pressure on it. I’ll be there with Healer Serafina within the hour.”

“Quickly!” Daphne screamed.

“Do you have pain relief potions in the house?”

Harry nodded.

“Give her one vial, no more. I’m no healer. I don’t want you to do anything drastic until Serafina sees her.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Dad, Harry,” Cyrus reminded Harry with a small smile.

Harry nodded and pulled his head out of the fireplace once Cyrus had left his study. He turned and crawled over to Daphne.

“I’ll get a pain relief potion for your ankle, love,” Harry whispered. He pushed stray strands of golden hair out of Daphne’s face and kissed her clammy forehead. Her eyes were shut and tears streamed down her red cheeks. Harry quickly glanced at her ankle, his worry growing when he saw how much it had swollen.

“Not my ankle,” Daphne gasped out in between sobs. “There’s something wrong with our babies, Harry! I… my belly… contractions…”

Harry’s heart stopped in his chest as he turned. Daphne was clutching her stomach with both hands.

“Harry?” Daphne asked in a small, scared voice. “Promise me everything will be alright.”

“I promise,” Harry whispered.

“Hold my hand, please?” Daphne begged tearfully.

Harry reached out and squeezed her hand, knowing he could do nothing except helplessly wait and pray that Cyrus and Serafina would get to them in time.

Notes:

Since I am in pain I thought you should share some of it. Poor Harry and Daphne. They just can't seem to catch a break. Almost makes you want to wrap them in bubble wrap. But then, Harry also unlocked his potential and there's going to be a come to Merlin moment very soon for two people. The person who was supposed to be guarding them and a certain woman who shall not be named. Also we get cute scenes of Harry teaching Daphne! What should her Patronus be? A doe doesn't quite fit her. A raven? Something else?