Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Leave A Tender Moment Alone	By : Spurge_Laurel Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 5908 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I make no money from this hobby.

Chapter List
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Daphne woke up.

And something was wrong.

It was still dark, but that was not unexpected. She often rose before the sun, had started doing so ever since her first year at Hogwarts so she could have uninterrupted shower time with as much hot water as she wanted. Sure, the taps were enchanted, but that never stopped the upper years from sometimes playing cruel pranks on their underclassmen. She had never quite gotten over the habit, even as she grew older. There was something deeper about this darkness, however. Dawn was still hours away.

She was still tired, but that was a given. The only time she didn’t feel at least a little tired was when she was working on her research. The aforementioned shower and a cup of tea would help, but at this point it was just something she had learned to live with. It helped that she no longer felt the sheer mental exhaustion she had during her youth when she had still forced herself to care about what people told her to care about and act how they told her to act. There was something different about this tiredness, however. Her mind felt refreshed, focused in a way she could not remember ever having woken up to before, whereas her body felt worn out.

The room around her was not hers, but even that wasn’t so strange. She had not lived in a place she truly considered hers in a while. Sure, there was a room at Potter Manor that was ostensibly hers, but it did not feel hers. It belonged to Daphne Potter, a woman she was not and had no desire to be. The bed she was laying in was not the one in that room, however. If the different decor was not enough of a tip off, the warm body laying next to her sure was.

Daphne lay on her side, clutching the blankets tight around her nude body like they were armour, as she stared at the sleeping form of her husband. He was so still, so completely unlike how he presented himself during the day. Always moving, always active, always involved. But there he was, just laying there. Motionless but for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Silent but for the near inaudible sounds of his periodic exhales.

Of course, those were just the ways the public saw him. The way she used to see him. Her perspective was a little different, now that they were married. Which, of course, is how she found herself in her current situation.

With a great exhale, Daphne rolled over onto her back and threw her left arm over her eyes. She stopped bothering trying to cover herself. The only other person in the room was asleep, and even if he weren’t, it wasn’t like he would see anything he hadn’t before. Sweet Morgana, how had something like this happened to her of all people.

Naturally, she knew exactly how. Harry Bloody Potter. He was just so. . . so. . . she couldn’t even think of words to describe it, really. The only one that really fit was good, because no one could argue against Harry Potter being good. No, not just good, but Good. The word good failed to capture the essence of Harry Potter, failed to live up to his expectations, and so he was Good. In truth, he was the Paragon of Good, and it was as if he was Good at everything. Even when he failed, it seemed to set him ahead in some way, as if he had only failed so someone else would have to succeed and become better for it. Closer to Good.

In the face of something like that, was it really so strange that Daphne’s walls—so carefully built up over years of watching and despising her fellow wizards and witches—began to crumble. The fortress she had raised around herself from those who seeked to use her had been impenetrable, as if it were Camelot itself. And yet it was breached. Not through force, either physical or magical. Not even through guile, as much as Daphne wished it were so.

Could compassion, could—dare she think it?—love, really be that powerful? This was not something she was ready to contemplate, let alone reconcile herself with, just yet. Certainly not in the middle of the night. She didn’t get any extra power at the witching hour, after all. So for now? She was going to take the only tried and true option left. A tactical retreat.

She gathered herself up and gently rose off the mattress, doing her best to be stealthy. It was not enough, as Harry was almost immediately roused from his slumber. He looked up at her through squinted eyes, the darkness and his lack of glasses leaving him blinder than a flobberworm.

“Daphne?” Her name hung in the still air, the unasked question plain in his tone. There was also something more. An invitation to stay, a plea not to go.

Daphne didn’t want to say anything—didn’t know what to say—so she just left.
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Leave A Tender Moment Alone