Chapter 17: Daphne's Dilemma

Daphne walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, feeling more confused than she had ever felt in her life. The reason, so-called golden boy of Gryffindor. Even remembering him caused her lips to tingle in a strange way, evoking an emotion she had done her best to avoid. Her lips, which had been sullied by the most undignified act she could imagine as he treated her like she was nothing but a mudblood slut.

It had been a terrible lapse of judgment on her part, bringing his attention on her, she realized after it was too late. Admitting that, even in the confines of her own mind hurt her pride fierce. Yes, she had been annoyed in that fateful day, and cursing unsuspecting Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors had always been a good way to relax. But treating him like one of these nameless pathetic students turned out to be a mistake.

The newspapers were partially to blame for her lapse. After a year of endless articles about supposed lies of an attention-seeking maniac, subconsciously, she had put him the same category as Malfoy. All talk, no action. Umbridge's and Malfoy's constant derisions didn't exactly help either. So, bit by bit, she started to ignore the other rumors about him, each more outrageous than the last…

It turned out to be the biggest mistake she had done in her life. When she first attacked him, he was nothing but a nameless grunt, destined to enjoy her displeasure. Or so she thought, and even when she realized his identity, she continued casting her spell, unafraid of the consequences.

She realized her miscalculation when he sidestepped her spell casually. For a second, her heart had filled with indignation, annoyed with his dismissive attitude. Then, he turned towards her, his eyes filled with a promise of danger far above Daphne had ever seen. Even her father, a mid-level Death Eater, had never looked that intimidating, even when she was a child. Panicked, she reflexively used one of the three spells that would ensure a lengthy prison stay. A horrible mistake, but not in the way she had expected. Never in her dreams, she had expected him to treat the most dangerous spell she knew like it was nothing more than a pathetic prank spell.

She shook her head, trying to dismiss what had happened next, losing her first kiss even as he manhandled her like a helpless toy. If her pride was bruised beforehand, that moment left a large wound in it. A wound that drove her to trick several of the Slytherin boys in an attempt of revenge, her honor begging for restitution, however sneaky it was. But that ended even more horribly than she could imagine. Not only he had managed to dismantle her ploy easily, but he also discovered that she was responsible for their actions.

More than anything, it was the punishment that followed had messed up her mind. To punish her, he had brought her to a place she would never imagine seeing, the famous Chamber of Secrets, the secret lair of Salazar Slytherin. And she had definitely not expected her mouth to be defiled several feet away from the carcass of a humongous Basilisk. It was one thing to hear about a mysterious monster slain by so-called Golden Boy, it was something else to come across its body, destroyed by the same boy that was busy defiling her mouth like she was a common whore…

She was confused, because she didn't know what to do next. Direct retaliation was impossible. That, she learned the hard way. But even indirect retaliation proved its ineffectiveness, not to mention his revenge escalated stiffly. Maybe it was for the best if she let it go, not wanting to subject herself to another session of revenge.

Thankfully, she arrived at the Great Hall at that point, giving her an excuse to ignore the unfamiliar tingling that went through her body as the memories of her punishment had gone through her body. The last thing she needed was to think about her reaction, and what had it meant. She saw her only friend, Tracy, sitting at the table, alone, and changed her direction towards her. Her incessant chatter was what she needed to distract herself.

"Hi, Daphne," Tracy called cheerfully as Daphne took her seat across her. "You look distracted, is something wrong?"

"Transfiguration homework turned out to be more challenging than I was expecting," Daphne answered.

"Too bad," Tracy shrugged, uninterested. Daphne nodded, expecting that reaction. She had chosen to mention transfiguration intentionally, a topic that Tracy would never delve deep intentionally. "Have you heard about the latest fight between Malfoy and Parkinson. It's hilarious…" Just like that Tracy launched a summary of the latest gossips of their house, and Daphne listened halfheartedly while eating her dinner normally. And even if she stabbed her roasted potatoes harder than strictly necessary, no one had called her on it.

Her plan was to avoid any situation that might end up in further confusion. She wanted to finish her dinner and go back to her room. She hoped that another long sleep might help her to solve her issues. But, the pattern that her life was starting to turn held true, and disregarded her plans completely, this time in the form of a large tawny owl, carrying a letter that looked as haughty as it.

"Daphne, you have a letter," Tracy exclaimed, her eyes grown with excitement. "And it looks like a love confession. I wonder who sent it."

There was a pit in Daphne's stomach as she reached for the letter, absolutely sure about who was responsible. The timing was too close to be anyone else. Her only consolation was that he was smart enough to use a different owl than his distinctive snow-white one. Even with all of her political acumen and in-house power, she wouldn't be able to twist a confession from Harry Potter to anything other than a total disaster.

"I don't know," Daphne murmured as she plucked the letter from owl's leg, which looked at Daphne dismissively before flying away. Blasted bird, she thought, but she wasn't crazy enough to curse an owl in the middle of the Great Hall. She slid the letter in her pocket instead of opening. Tracy looked at her with begging eyes. "Not here," Daphne answered, electing to continue her dinner. She did her best to ignore the burning presence of the letter in her pocket, trying to display her usual icy demeanor outside, forcing herself to eat slowly.

Ten minutes, she managed to wait on her seat before standing up. Tracy tried to stand up as well, but Daphne was ready. "I'm going to the library to work on my Transfiguration homework. You don't need to come," she explained.

"But Daphne-" Tracy tried to say, but she was cut short when Daphne turned her gaze on her. In her confused state, it was hard to feel anger, but she managed to imitate it enough to affect Tracy. "Sorry," she added. "I'll see you in the room, then." Daphne wasn't happy about using intimidation on her only friend in the treacherous halls of Slytherin. Unfortunately, she had more important things to worry about.

Daphne just nodded before leaving the Great Hall, acting unaffected as a number of students -the majority consisting of Slytherins- watched her walk away with great attention, not bothering to keep their whispers as they explained their theories about the unexpected communication. Normally, Daphne would make a point of turning back to send a threatening glare to the table clad in green and silver, but the burning presence of the letter in her pocket prevented her from doing so today.

She managed to keep her steps even until she was alone, and then dashed into the first empty classroom. She pulled the letter, but her fingers suddenly froze, fearing what she would find inside the letter. "Come on, Greengrass," she murmured. "You're better than this."

But her attempts to psyche herself didn't work as well as she hoped, and she found herself examining the loopy handwriting on the backside of the envelope. 'To my new toy,' it read, which was one of the reasons she had done her best to hide it from Tracy. The other reason was simpler. She was afraid of what lay inside the envelope.

But delaying it wasn't going to help her, that she was sure. She took a deep breath as she dragged her finger along the edge, freeing the letter inside. It turned out to be more of a card than a letter, she realized after she pulled it out, only one thing written on it. 'It's time for your punishment, come to the Chamber.' There was nothing else on the card, no sender, no explanation. Not that they were necessary. Both the identity and the location was obvious, leaving only one question. What she was going to do?

She wished that going to the library after hitting the letter with a flame charm was an option, but her heart trembled at the thought. She still remembered his suffocating presence in the chamber, infusing her whole being. She had already risked a lot by her delayed response.

In the end, her body took the choice from her, her feet dragging her towards the bathroom on the second floor, where the entrance for the chamber lay. She had enough presence of mind to check whether she was being followed, especially by anyone else from Slytherin who would only use the situation to further their aims, and wouldn't bother to lift a finger to help Daphne.

She stepped into the bathroom. The door slammed behind her before she could close it, and simultaneously, the entrance for the chamber opened, the same ominous stairs trailing downward, but this time with a change. The torches were in different shape. The last time she visited, they were shaped like snakes, and now, they looked like lions, flames burning in their open mouths. An arrow-shaped heart, pointing down completed the updated view.

In any other situation, she would have turned her nose in a distaste, annoyed that a precious Slytherin relic like that had been defiled. But not when she was walking towards to suffer a similar treatment. She could feel her legs starting to tremble as she stepped into the darkness, broken only by shivering light of the torches.

Her humiliation was not over, she realized, as the stairs finished, leaving her in front of another sign. That one, instead of another arrow, ordered her to change her clothes. Her gaze fell on the small bag hanging on its stalk, too small to contain anything substantial. Technically, it could have been enchanted with space charms, carrying a robe that was even more substantial than what she had worn the previous time, but after the treatment she had received the last time, she doubted that he would provide her with something that would cover her whole body.

She tried to pull the bag from its place, but it was stuck there. She tried pulling it harder, but she failed again. The writing on the sign changed. 'Remove your clothes first,' it read. Daphne felt tears pricking the edge of her eyes, a feeling of vulnerability dominating her heart even when she was dressed.

She transfigured a bag to put her clothes before starting to undress. Her naked skin burned as she pulled off her robes, followed by her shirt and her skirt. She tried to pull the bag, only to fail once again. The writing on the sign changed once more. 'Everything,' it said. Daphne wanted to cry in frustration, but knew it wasn't going to help. Instead, she helplessly shed the rest of her clothes, namely, shoes, socks, and most importantly, underwear.

She hung her conjured bag on the sign before trying to pull another one once again. This time, it came off without resistance. She pulled its contents, hoping to find something substantial, but she failed badly. It contained a set of underwear, a robe, long socks, and shoes, but none of them were deserving to be referred as clothing. The shoes were nothing more than reddish straps and long heels, and while the socks were long enough to reach into the middle of her thigh, they were too transparent to hide anything. But Daphne didn't feel like complaining about them, not after she had examined the other pieces.

The robe was even more transparent than her socks, resembling a golden smoke, but even poorer in terms of providing concealment. But even it was better than the underwear, a weird bra that ended before covering her nipples, which had hardened under the influence of the cold, and a few connected strings that she had to use in lieu of panties, both crimson.

She slowly dressed in her new clothes, trying to focus on the fact that she was being dressed in Gryffindor colors, hoping that it helped her to ignore the fact that even a whore would feel shame wearing those clothes. Muggles were truly degenerates. The sign changed once more, this time an arrow pointing deeper in the room, with a writing underneath, wishing her good luck. Luckily, there was no mirror in sight, freeing her from looking at her own face.

She continued her trek, her insufficient clothing failing to insulate against the slight chill of the room. She tried to ignore the sensation as the silky robe rubbed against her nipples with each step, awakening unfamiliar sensations in her body. She tried to convince herself that it was fear, but failed to do so. She continued to walk, her eyes firmly on the ground.

"Welcome," she heard a familiar voice calling, sharper than steel. She raised her gaze. The first thing she noticed was the changes in the room. Every single statue in the room had been demolished, lying on the ground, replaced with stylized lions. Another reminder of the difference between them, Daphne noted, as destroying all those statues and transfiguring new ones to replace them would have utterly exhausted her. And that was discounting the transfiguration of the huge, four poster bed, decorated in same colors with her clothing. Just transfiguring that would have left her exhausted.

But Harry was sitting in on the bed, not showing the slightest sign of exhaustion. Just another clue on how badly she had screwed when she had picked her target. She felt her skin tingle as he examined her body. Neither her robe nor her underwear hid her body from his hungry gaze. Her instincts begged her to bring her arm to her chest, but she kept them on her sides, not wanting to annoy him. She had taken enough risk with her delay, and she didn't want to push her luck. So, she stood, her eyes on the ground, waiting for him to say something.

"Hello, Daphne," he said. "What a nice surprise." She said nothing, keeping her eyes on the ground. "Why don't you walk closer," he added. "We don't want you to exhaust yourself standing up, right?"

She wanted to spat out a rebellious answer, but her courage faltered. She knew the difference between them, and she was afraid of pushing him, afraid of the consequences if she had managed to truly anger him. She walked to him, her legs trembling badly with each step. But she managed to reach the bed without falling, and sat on. She reached to remove her shoes, but stopped midway when he shook his head, indicating her to keep them on.

"Come closer," he said, and she crawled on the bed to him, acutely aware the view she generated. But there was little point resisting. "Good girl," he called as he patted the area next to him, and Daphne pulled close, enough for their bodies to rub. She waited, her body trembling under a mixture of fear and anticipation, but he chose not to act. "How was your day, Daphne," he asked.

"It was okay," she answered demurely. She wasn't surprised by his seemingly casual question. It was a strategy she had used in the past successfully, forcing her inferiors to act casual, which underlined her superiority perfectly. It wasn't nearly as fun to be on the other side of it. But rebelling was not an option, not when she lacked even the slightest hope to come on top.

She continued to answer his pointless questions to the best of her ability. Occasional stammers broke her flow when his lips pressed to her neck, leaving a burning sensation behind, one that threatened to expand and invade her whole body, leaving her toes tingling. It was unbelievable, just how much her body reacted to his touch.

The sensation was nothing compared to his next action. He grabbed her hair without a warning. She was startled, but unable to pull away with her hair in his grip. She wasn't surprised by the sudden shift. After the treatment she had suffered the last time, she had been expecting his touch to stiffen, even if its suddenness had surprised her. A pained cry escaped her mouth when his kiss turned into a bite, one that was hard enough to leave a mark and a burning sensation.

It wasn't the only cry that left her mouth as his teeth continued his painful exploration of her neck. But the pain wasn't alone after the first, the pleasure increasing its share every time a cry had forced itself out of her lips. Her pride dwindled further as her pleasure increased, hating herself for enjoying the situation. Passively accepting the treatment was something, but enjoying it was something else.

"Who asked you to stop your explanation," he asked her after finishing his exploration of her neck. She gazed at his eyes, hoping to find a sliver of mercy, but only found boundless enjoyment. She took a deep breath, trying to suppress her reactions enough to continue her explanation about the recent developments in Slytherin, a task that had been made more difficult when he slid her robe to the side, leaving her shoulder free for a bunch of steaming kisses, broken by occasional bites.

She had a feeling that tonight's session wasn't going to be short. And to make things worse, she didn't know whether it made her feel worse, or better…