Darker Than Gray Ch. 31

The smell of fresh coffee lingered in the air as Harry sat at the kitchen table, absently drumming his spoon on his finished bowl of cereal. The clinking sound was rhythmic, almost hypnotic, but his mind was elsewhere. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but skipping breakfast never helped anything. The same thoughts from before kept running around in his mind, his emotions still a jumbled mess over everything that had happened.

The kitchen was quiet—almost too quiet. Outside, the soft, rhythmic lapping of waves against the shore and the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind provided a distant hum of life, but inside, it was just him, the dull scrape of his spoon, and the weight of uncertainty pressing on his chest. He sighed, rubbing his temple. No matter how much he tried to push his thoughts away, they circled back with relentless persistence.

The kiss. The feel of Daphne in his arms. His conflicted emotions regarding both her and Susan. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly the previous night, the same thoughts keeping him awake.

Suddenly, the Floo flared to life, the sudden whoosh of green flames cutting through the silence. The unexpected intrusion sent a jolt through Harry’s body, his grip tightening around his spoon as he whirled around toward the fireplace. The place was warded, and no one unauthorized could enter, but it also perplexed him slightly, for no one had ever arrived unannounced or uninvited. When the flames settled and a figure stepped out, his breath caught.

Daphne.

His spoon fell with a soft clatter.

She stepped forward, brushing off the soot from her white floral top, her posture straight and composed, but her eyes—sharp, piercing, and searching—were already fixed on him. There was something about the way she stood, the way her lips pressed together, as if she was holding back something that threatened to spill over, preparing herself for something.

Harry simply took her in as she approached him at a sedate pace. She was dressed immaculately, as always—casual more than witch-like. Her light blue leggings hugged her legs delicately, and after the events of the previous night, Harry realized he was already looking at her more differently—more sensually and admiringly than before.

There had only been two other instances when he had found those emotions within himself—the first was during that Knight Bus ride with Susan, and the second was in that broom closed with Daphne.

‘Well, at least I’m not gay,’ he thought to himself and he couldn’t help but feel slightly amused. Those idiots at his muggle workplace sure loved to taunt him about his lack of female interaction.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Daphne came to stop about five feet in front of him. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them grew thick, unspoken words and emotions threatening to overwhelm them both. Finally, Daphne inhaled deeply and said softly, "We need to talk."

Harry nodded immediately, pushing back his chair. He didn’t ask why she was here instead of calling him over. He already knew the answer—this wasn’t something to discuss through letters or over the Floo. They had not talked last night. It made perfect sense to discuss whatever… all this was. And there was something, unresolved, unnamed, but both could feel it. Hell, they’d expressed their feelings to each other already, but a talk was necessary.

Without another word, he reached out and took her hand. Daphne did not protest in the slightest, nor did she give any inkling that she was surprised. Instead, there was a soft smile on her lips that Harry couldn’t very well miss. Holding her gaze for a moment longer, he led her to the living area and pulled her down on the couch right beside himself.

They sat on the couch, side by side. Close, but not touching beyond holding hands. At least, not at first. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy, filled with both unresolved tension and hope.

“Talk to me,” he said softly as Daphne pulled her hand away from his to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Harry’s eyes lingered on the movement, unbeknownst to him.

Daphne sat with her hands folded on her lap, her fingers fidgeting slightly, and her brows drawn together in thought. Her usual poise was there, but there was a subtle yet undeniable crack in it.

Harry didn’t rush her. He simply waited, knowing she needed to find the right words.

Finally, she exhaled softly and turned her hand over, reaching for his. Harry met her halfway, their fingers sliding together and clasping, warm and firm. Her hand was slightly cold, but her grip was strong.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet, hesitant yet determined. "Last night… our kiss. It was the happiest moment of my life, Harry."

Harry’s heart soared at her words. So she didn’t regret it. He could feel his heart thumping with emotion, pressing against his ribs. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, she continued.

"If you think I regret it or that I wish it didn’t happen, then forget it. I don’t. Not even for a second."

Relief washed over him, the tension in his shoulders easing. He squeezed her hand lightly. "I feel the same way," he admitted softly, gazing into her blue orbs that shone with so much love and care that he almost felt like tearing up. No one had ever shown him so much affection or looked at him with those eyes—full of tender care and expecting nothing in return. Keeping himself firmly composed, he continued, "I don't regret it either. It wasn’t what I expected last night, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I—"

Daphne shook her head, her grip on his hand tightening. "But, Harry…" She whispered as she let out a slow breath, closing her eyes for a moment before meeting his gaze again. Harry gazed at her uncertainly. "I’ve been trying to, and I know it’s weird… I mean… this is our first kiss… I’ve been wanting this for months now, but I…” She sighed, her eyes pleading. “I can’t help but feel guilty about it. About Susan."

Harry released a soft sigh as he looked down at her lap where their hands were clasped. Daphne gave his hand a soft squeeze. His lips pressed into a thin line as he listened, letting her get it all out.

"I know it wasn’t planned. I know it wasn’t something either of us intended. And I know we both wanted it, even loved that it happened. We both know how we feel about each other, right Harry?” She asked softly, cupping his cheek and making him look her in the eyes. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, knowing that he wouldn’t lie to her about it. He never had, and he never will.

Daphne smiled softly and looked down. “If I’m being honest, Harry, I shouldn’t feel like this. But Susan… she doesn’t deserve this." Daphne’s voice wavered slightly, her gaze still fixed on her lap. "She’s one of our closest friends. She’s been there for you in ways I never have. And I can’t stand the thought of hurting her. I can’t do this to her, Harry…"

Harry swallowed, his emotions warring inside him. She was on the same page as him, and he was certain that the thought must have eaten away at her throughout the night, keeping her awake, just as he’d been. However, through all of it, his admiration for Daphne only grew. She wasn’t just thinking about herself, or about him—she was thinking about Susan too, about how this would affect her.

Without a word, he reached up, gently cupping her cheek. Daphne’s head lifted in surprise, her striking blue eyes meeting his. Before she could say anything, he leaned in, pressing a soft, tender kiss to her lips.

For a moment, she froze, but then she melted against him, her hand gripping his shirt as she kissed him back. It wasn’t hurried or desperate—it was slow, deep, and full of love that the two shared for each other. They both felt their hearts would burst out of their bodies as they kissed, Daphne shifting in place so that she was leaning against him, her fist unclenching and gently stroking his chest.

When they finally pulled away, her breath was shaky, her eyes searching his.

"Harry..." she whispered.

"I get it," he said softly. "I’ve been thinking about the same thing all night and this morning too. I care about Susan just as much as I care about you. And I hate this feeling, like I have to choose between you both. I don’t want to hurt either of you, Daphne."

Daphne listened quietly, nodding in places, her expression unreadable but patient. She didn’t interrupt, just held his hand as he spoke.

"But you’re right," Harry continued. "The least we can do is be honest with her. We owe her that."

Daphne nodded again, her fingers curling around his. "We should tell her before the New Year's Eve gathering. She deserves to hear it from us, not pick up on something later and feel blindsided."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "Yeah. I was thinking of asking her to come over after lunch."

Daphne’s grip on his hand tightened again. "I want to be there too."

Harry turned to her, searching her face. "You’re sure?"

She nodded firmly. "Yes. This involves all three of us. I don’t want to hide from it, and I don’t want you to face it alone."

His chest warmed at her words. "I’d love it if you stayed until then," he said, his voice softer now.

Daphne’s lips curled into the smallest of smiles. "Good."

Then, without warning, she leaned in and kissed him again. This time, there was no hesitation—just the warmth of her lips pressing against his, soft yet insistent. Harry barely had time to react before instinct took over, his hands finding their way to her waist as he pulled her close.

The heat between them deepened as their lips moved in a slow, languid dance, tasting, exploring, savoring. Her fingers threaded through his hair, nails grazing lightly against his scalp, sending a shiver down his spine. He could feel the quick rise and fall of her breath against his cheek, the way she melted into him, as if the space between them had never existed at all.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, she pressed closer, her body molding against his. Harry felt the subtle shift in her movements—the soft parting of her lips, the teasing brush of her tongue against his lower lip. A low hum rumbled in his chest as he answered her invitation, deepening the kiss, his own tongue sliding against hers in a slow, unhurried rhythm. It was warm, wet, intoxicating, each stroke igniting something restless and hungry beneath his skin.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, tugging just enough to send another shiver coursing through him. He matched her pace, savoring the heat of her mouth, the way she tasted—faintly sweet, like something he couldn’t quite name but knew he wanted more of. Time blurred, the world outside this moment fading into irrelevance. All that mattered was the way she felt against him, the way their breaths mingled, and the way neither of them seemed willing to let go.

When they parted, she sighed against his lips, her forehead resting against his. "I can’t seem to get enough of this," she admitted, a little breathless.

Harry smirked slightly. "Yeah?"

Daphne chuckled, her fingers brushing over his. "Yeah. And you know what’s ridiculous? I hate feeling vulnerable, Harry. It’s not something I’m comfortable with. But with you... I don’t mind. I actually—" She bit her lip, her gaze lowering. "I love that I can depend on you. That you make me feel safe."

Something in Harry’s chest squeezed at her words, and he reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"You can," he murmured, stroking her cheek tenderly. "Always."

Daphne’s fingers curled around the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric tightly as she pulled him in for another kiss. This one was deeper, slower, but filled with all the passion they held. Harry let himself fall into it, into her, his hand sliding up to cup her face once again, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of her jaw. Her lips were warm and eager against his, parting just enough for him to taste her, to let his tongue slip past and meet hers in a slow, intoxicating dance.

A quiet sigh escaped her, muffled between them as her grip on his shirt tightened, as if she was anchoring herself to him. He answered with a quiet growl, fingers threading into her hair, tilting her head just enough to deepen the kiss further.

Every touch, every shift, sent heat curling through him, an intoxicating mix of softness and need. And in that moment, nothing else existed—no past, no future, just the steady thrum of their hearts and the way they moved together, as if they had been meant to be like this all along. Whatever came next, whatever awaited them beyond this, they would face it together. But right now, all that mattered was this.

-Break-

Susan sat cross-legged on her bed, pulling a thick, soft blanket over her lap as she reached for the last of the presents she and Hannah had exchanged. The fire in the hearth flickered warmly, casting a golden glow over the room. It was a cozy setting, fitting for Christmas morning. The manor was mostly quiet, save for the occasional distant murmur of her aunt talking downstairs.

Hannah sat across from her, leaning against a pile of pillows, her blonde hair slightly mussed from where she'd been shaking out ribbons and wrapping paper only moments before. She grinned as she held up a deep green scarf Susan had gifted her. "This is brilliant. And so soft! Did you get it from Twilfitt? I’ve heard they’ve got a proprietary charm that makes it to be extra warm."

Susan smirked. "Obviously. You complain about the cold too much."

"I do not," Hannah shot back, but she wrapped the scarf around her neck anyway, hugging it close. "Alright, your turn. Open mine."

Susan picked up the box Hannah nudged toward her and pulled the ribbon loose. Inside, nestled in soft tissue paper, was a set of enchanted quills—sleek, elegant, and clearly designed for both efficiency and style. One was a deep crimson, another a rich bronze, the third a deep forest green.

"I had them charmed," Hannah said. "The red one never runs out of ink, the bronze one never smudges, and the green one can write as fast as you think, so you don’t have to keep up with your thoughts."

Susan raised an eyebrow. "You’re assuming I have that many thoughts worth writing down."

"Well, between your schoolwork and your top-secret diary entries, I imagine you’ll get some use out of them," Hannah teased.

Susan snorted. "Thanks, Hannah. These are actually brilliant."

As Susan set the box aside, Hannah’s gaze flickered over the room. Her eyes landed on a neatly wrapped package sitting on the desk by the window, untouched and clearly meant for someone else. A slow, teasing grin spread across her face.

"And what’s this, then?" she asked, nodding toward the package.

Susan immediately knew what she meant and rolled her eyes. "It’s for Harry."

Hannah’s grin widened. "Ooooh. And what did you get him?"

Rolling her eyes, Susan leaned over and picked up the box. "A book. Ancient Magic and the Paths to Mastery. He’s been trying to expand his magical repertoire, so I thought he’d find it useful."

Hannah made a mockingly disappointed sound. "Boooooring."

Susan shot her a flat look. "It’s a thoughtful gift!"

Hannah made a face, and once again, she booed mockingly. "How very academic of you, Sue. Honestly, a book? Surely, you must wish you were giving him something else instead."

Susan narrowed her eyes at the way Hannah looked her up and down, waggling her brows suggestively. Heat immediately rushed to her face.

"Oh, shut up! Get your dirty mind out of the gutter, Hannah." She swatted at Hannah’s arm, but Hannah only laughed, leaning out of reach.

"I’m just saying," Hannah sing-songed, still grinning. "If it were me, I’d go for something a little more…personal."

"Well, it’s not you, is it?" Susan shot back, her ears still warm. "And he’ll like the book. He’ll actually use it."

Hannah raised her hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. Keep being practical. But if he starts getting ideas that you see him as a bookish bore, don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Before Susan could retaliate, there was a sudden crack in the air, and both girls jumped slightly as a Bones family house-elf appeared in the room. The small creature, dressed in a neatly pressed tea towel embroidered with the family crest, held out an envelope. "Mistress Susan, a letter has arrived for you."

Susan blinked, surprised. "For me?"

The elf nodded and placed the letter into her outstretched hand before disappearing with another pop.

Hannah craned her neck immediately, trying to get a look. "Who’s it from?"

Susan flipped it over and saw the handwriting scrawled on the front. Her breath hitched slightly. "Harry."

Hannah’s eyes lit up with devious curiosity. "Oh-ho. On Christmas morning, no less? This ought to be good. Open it!"

Susan hesitated for half a second before breaking the seal. As soon as she unfolded the parchment, she turned slightly, angling it away from Hannah’s prying gaze.

"Oh, come on," Hannah whined, shifting closer. "What does it say?"

Ignoring her, Susan scanned the contents. Her brow furrowed slightly.

Susan, I hope you’re having a good Christmas morning. I wanted to ask if you could come over after lunch. There’s something important I need to talk to you about. Let me know. – Harry

She read it twice, trying to decipher any hidden meaning behind the words. Nothing immediately stood out, but the fact that he wanted to speak to her about something ‘important’—on Christmas Day, no less—made her stomach twist with both curiosity and apprehension.

When she was done, she lowered the letter, still holding it away from Hannah’s grasping hands.

"Well?" Hannah pressed impatiently. "What’s it about?"

Susan exhaled slowly, puzzled. "He wants me to come over to his house after lunch. Says he has something important to discuss with me."

Hannah’s face practically split into a devilish grin. "Oh-ho!" She clapped her hands together. "Susan, my dear, do you realize what this means?"

Susan gave her a dry look. "That he wants to talk to me about something?"

Hannah shook her head dramatically. "No, no, no. You poor, oblivious thing. It means something is going on."

Susan rolled her eyes. "Not everything is some grand romantic plot, Hannah."

"But what if this is?" Hannah pressed. "I mean, Christmas is the perfect time for heartfelt confessions. Maybe he’s finally going to admit he fancies you back!"

Susan snorted even though her heart soared. "Doubtful."

Hannah wagged a finger at her. "You lack imagination."

"And I think you have too much of it," Susan countered. "For all we know, he wants help with some research or—"

"Or he’s going to profess his undying love and beg you to run away with him."

Susan groaned, throwing her head back against the bedpost. "You are insufferable."

Hannah merely grinned, leaning back on her hands. "And yet, you love me."

"Questionable."

Hannah giggled, and Susan ignored her, wondering about Harry’s letter. She was brought out of her musings when Hannah picked up once again.

"Still, something important, you say? On Christmas day? Just the two of you?"

Susan shot her a look. "Don’t start again."

"Oh, but how can I not?" Hannah clutched her hands together, her eyes gleaming. "This is positively mysterious! What could he possibly want to discuss with you that’s so important he couldn’t wait until the New Years’ Eve? Oh, I forgot, we’d all be there. He must want something… private with you today. A special Christmas gift, maybe?"

Susan eyed a grinning Hannah with a deadpan stare, though a strange feeling had settled in her stomach. The blonde simply gazed at her suggestively.

"I don’t know."

"Oh, I have some ideas," Hannah teased. "Maybe he’s finally realized he can’t go another day without feeling those—"

"Enough!" Susan cut her off, her face burning again. "You’re insufferable."

Hannah only cackled. "You’re blushing."

"I am not."

"You so are!" Hannah nudged her shoulder. "Come on, Sue, admit it. You’re curious. What if this is something…romantic?"

Susan groaned, throwing herself back against her pillows. "Hannah, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t drop this right now, I’ll hex you."

Hannah, completely unbothered, continued to grin. "You can try, but we both know I’d dodge it."

Susan pressed her hands over her face for a moment before lowering them with a sigh. "It’s probably nothing. Maybe he needs a favor or something."

Hannah hummed, unconvinced. "Or maybe it’s something big,” she mused, before suddenly eyeing Susan’s bust. The redhead followed her gaze and with a yelp, she promptly folded her arms across them, blocking them from Hannah’s view.

“You’re incorrigible!”

Undeterred, Hannah continued, her gaze drifting down, “Or something life-changing,” she said lewdly. “Something like the first time—"

“Shut up!” Susan cried out, her eyes wide and her face burning as she crossed her legs tightly and pulled the blanked all over herself, hiding herself beneath. The image had already burnt in her mind and she shook her head violently to push those thoughts away. She inwardly groaned when all it did was make her think about herself and Harry like that even more.

Meanwhile, Hannah kept wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“My, I didn’t expect Mr. Potter to be so bold,” Hannah continued, gushing, as she cupped her cheeks exaggeratedly. “I know your aunt’s probably told you this already, but you better use protection, Sue.”

"You’re going to make me regret telling you about this, aren’t you?" Susan asked in exasperation, knowing she couldn’t win against this idiot.

"Absolutely," Hannah grinned unabashedly.

Susan groaned again as she threw herself on the bed, staring at the enchanted ceiling. Despite Hannah’s relentless teasing or the vivid, graphic images it all had evoked in her mind, she couldn’t ignore the small but persistent flicker of apprehension in her chest. Why had Harry reached out to her so suddenly? What could he possibly want to talk about that was important enough to call her over on Christmas day? How important was it that he couldn’t wait for a few days more?

And most importantly—why did the thought of finding out make her so nervous?

“Imagining giving your virginity to Harry, eh?” Hannah leaned forward and whispered, grinning madly.

All it did was earn her a strong pillow smack to the face. Susan sat fuming, with her face burning red as Hannah cackled away like a crazy idiot.

-Break-

“Have you written in the diary again?” Daphne asked softly as they got up from the dining table and made their way back over to the living room, sitting closely together once again. Their hands automatically found each other, clasping gently.

“No,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “I’m planning to, though. Soon. I believe I can get answers out of that thing. Just a bit more.”

Daphne’s brow furrowed with concern. She leaned close, whispering, “Just be careful. I know I’ve beaten this horn more times than we both can count, but that thing… it’s dangerous, especially to you. The way it affects you in particular, it’s unsettling.”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “I know, but it’s also important. You know that. I promise I’d be careful, alright? I’d take whatever precautions I can. This isn’t something to do thoughtlessly. And my Occlumency is also coming along nicely. I might not be able to feed it false memories yet but there’s no way he can get in here.”

Daphne searched his emerald eyes as he tapped his temple twice, her expression still etched with worry. She knew how driven he was, how desperate he could be, and that desperation was a double-edged sword. It made him reckless, as it had done when he’d taken that Cruciatus meant for her and Susan. Her heart clenched painfully as she recalled the state he’d been in back then. The diary might have given them insight into the enemy’s mind, however distorted it might be, and she had faith in him and his abilities. Yet, she couldn’t help but fear that the diary was a whole other level of mental manipulation that he might succumb to if he was not careful.

Before she could voice another concern, a whoosh of emerald flames erupted in the fireplace. Both Harry and Daphne instinctively straightened, their intertwined hands momentarily forgotten.

“She must’ve arrived,” Harry remarked as he gently pulled his hand away from Daphne’s firm grasp. The blonde relinquished the hold just as reluctantly, both feeling the loss of contact in an instant. They gazed at each other for a moment, their eyes meaningful.

From the swirling green embers, Susan emerged, brushing soot from her crimson hair. She stepped cautiously into the room, her soft eyes darting around as she bit her lower lip gently. Her mind was a bundle of conflicting emotions. She was curious about what Harry wanted to discuss, hopeful that it would be something positive, but also deeply apprehensive about it. Hannah’s words had long been forgotten, no matter how appealing they seemed to be. She knew Harry, and there was no chance something like that would be happening.

Her apprehension spiked tenfold when she saw Daphne sitting beside Harry, close enough to be touching. Susan froze, her carefully constructed façade of composure crumbling in an instant.

‘Daphne? What is she doing here?’ She thought, slowly walking forward.

Harry and Daphne got up as one and turned to her, their expressions perfectly neutral, giving nothing away. Susan slowly made her way further ahead, her gaze permanently fixed on Daphne. She moved like a statue, every step measured as her mind raced with possibilities, each more terrifying than that last now.

‘Oh, Merlin,’ she thought, her heart pounding in her chest. ‘He’s made his choice. He’s chosen Daphne.’

The realization hit her like a physical blow. Of course, it made sense. Daphne was beautiful, intelligent, and composed. Susan, on the other hand, felt clumsy, awkward, and nowhere as daring or magically powerful. The thought of being rejected was devastating, but the idea of losing Harry to someone else, even if it was one of her best friends, was almost unbearable.

She tried to school her expression, forcing a weak smile as she approached them. "Harry," she greeted him, her voice sounding strained even to her own ears. "Daphne. I... I didn't realize you'd be here too."

Daphne met her gaze head-on, her sapphire eyes unwavering. There was no triumph in her expression, no hint of gloating. Just a quiet, unsettling calm.

“Hello, Susan,” Daphne replied softly, her voice polite as she nodded.

Harry stood up, offering Susan a hesitant smile. “Thanks for coming over, Susan. Come, sit.”

He gestured to a chair opposite the sofa, deliberately creating some distance between himself and Daphne. He was acutely aware of Susan’s discomfort and desperately wanted to ease her worries, even though he knew he couldn't fully explain things just yet.

Susan numbly took the offered seat, her eyes still fixed on Daphne. The two girls stared at each other, none giving away anything.

"So," Susan began as she turned to regard Harry, her voice trembling slightly. "What's this all about? You didn't mention Daphne would be involved." She tried to sound casual, but the question hung heavy in the air.

Harry sat back down beside Daphne, although not as close as before, taking a deep breath. He knew this was going to be difficult, but he had to be honest with Susan. Both he and Daphne were on the same page. Susan deserved to know the absolute truth of what had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

“This concerns both Daphne and you, Susan. And me as well,” he said, his voice grave.

Susan’s heart plummeted. 

‘He has chosen her. He's going to tell me he's chosen Daphne, and she's here to… to soften the blow? I’d have preferred if she hadn’t been here…’

Her mind reeled. Everything seemed to point to this outcome. The way Daphne was already there, sitting beside him, their shared glances… it was all so obvious now. He had finally made his decision, and she was about to lose everything.

‘I knew it, I knew it was too good to be true,’ she thought bitterly. ‘Harry choosing me? I should have known better.’

She knew she was doing more thinking than anything else but she couldn’t help it, not when it came to this. She remembered the day he’d confessed his feelings for both of them, how he had said he couldn't choose, that he loved them equally. It had been a confusing, exhilarating, and ultimately heartbreaking revelation. Still, she had allowed herself to hope, to dream of a future with Harry, a future where she could be his partner, his confidante, his love. But now, it seemed, those dreams were about to be shattered.

‘He's chosen Daphne, hasn't he? That's why she's here, why they're so… comfortable together.’

Images flashed through her mind: Harry and Daphne sharing smiles at Hogwarts, no matter the setting, Harry walking Daphne back to the Slytherin common room after several of their classes, Harry and Daphne whispering together in the library as they studied in advance, or Harry and Daphne going away by themselves for some private chat. She had wanted them to be nothing more than friendly interactions, but now she couldn’t help but feel differently.

She felt a lump forming in her throat, tears pricking at her eyes. She wanted to run, to escape the inevitable pain, but she forced herself to stay put, to face the music. She owed Harry and Daphne that much, at least. 

‘Just get it over with,’ she thought, bracing herself for the final blow. ‘Tell me it's her, Harry. Tell me you've made your choice, and I'll try to be happy for you. I'll try to be your friend, even though it will kill me inside.’

Susan closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength, and then opened them again, meeting Harry's gaze with forced serenity.

"Okay, Harry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what you want to talk about."

She was forcing herself to look as calm as she could. However, inside, she was anything but.

‘Just get it over with,’ she thought, her heart clenching painfully as she braced herself, knowing that her world would now be altered forever.

TBC.