The Web of Power

Harry berated himself internally for his reckless behavior. He knew full well that rituals carried substantial risks, and even the slightest misstep could have catastrophic repercussions, and yet he had forged ahead with one – an entirely untested one at that – and now he was feeling how wrong a move it had been.

His hubris had led to this. An overwhelming surge of arousal coursed through him, so potent that it seemed to forcibly take control of his rational mind, letting his primal instincts take charge.

Daphne Greengrass was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, and right now, all he wanted was for her to be his. He couldn't take his eyes away from her ethereal beauty. He yearned to grab her, to touch her, to feel her curves, to see how heavenly she looked under those clothes, and he wanted... no... he desired her in every way imaginable. He wanted to claim her in every sense of the word, to ensure the thought of someone else never crossed her mind, and he found himself caring very little for the consequences of this fervent pursuit of his desires.

He watched as her eyes slowly widened at the sight of him. He did not let it bother him and slowly strode forward deliberately, his steps audible in the otherwise silent room. The privacy wards around the room would ensure no one would hear them or come in. He had the perfect place to do this and as he took in her shocked face, so close to his that he could almost count her eyelashes, she slowly stood up.

She stood a fraction shorter than him, he observed. Her head rose just shy of his chin and she had to tilt her head to look him in the eyes. Right now, her eyes were full of apprehension as they stared into his intense, lustful orbs. Harry's hands twitched with a sense of primal yearning, urging him to touch her.

Her eyes widened when he touched her face with the back of his fingers, caressing gently, as if admiring the most exquisite masterpiece ever created. Her skin was soft and carried a gentle warmth that seeped into his senses. He wondered through his hazy mind whether she was running a fever. The subtle rosy tint to her cheeks surely led credence to that errant notion.

"P-Potter," she whispered, her voice slightly breathless, and he turned his hand around, palming her soft cheek and caressing it with his thumb.

"You're beautiful," he whispered reverently. Her face reddened even more, and he wondered yet again whether her fever was intensifying.

"W-what are you d-doing?"

"What does it look like?" His voice was gravelly, much deeper than it usually was. Daphne's heart raced and she gulped at the sight of the animalistic look in his emerald orbs. All her senses were screaming at her to get away but her feet seemed rooted to the spot, unwilling to obey the commands her brain was desperately trying to make it follow.

Suddenly, the hand that had been caressing her cheek reached behind her and grabbed her lustrous blonde locks in a vice-like grip, coaxing an involuntary cry from her. Shocked, Daphne could only stare at him as he pushed her back against the wall, his face mere inches from hers.

Her eyes wide, she stared at him. Her limbs felt frozen in place and she found herself unable to even reach for her wand. Her entire self was engulfed in shock and disbelief. She had never witnessed this side of him and all she could do was stare uncomprehendingly.

Harry was breathing heavily, the air heavy with arousal as he held Daphne firmly against the wall, uncaring of whether she was hurt when he pushed her. His eyes were half-lidded with arousal and he could feel his manhood, erect and pushing forward, straining against the tightness of his trousers. His breathing was ragged, more uneven than it had been when his name had come out of that accursed goblet.

"H-harry…" Daphne managed somehow, trying to force her limbs to move. "S-stop this… you're hurting me…"

Harry was lost in the intensity of the moment as he gripped her firmly, his face mere inches away from hers. Her words did not even register with him.

A sharp, breathless gasp escaped Daphne's lips as the hand that had been clenching her hair in a fist abruptly released its hold and dropped, grabbing her by her arse. Her eyes wide in shock locked onto his with a mix of surprise and apprehension. Another gasp tore its way out of her throat as he pulled her forward, their lower bodies ramming in a forceful collision.

She was engulfed by an entirely unfamiliar sensation, one that emerged from somewhere forbidden. A feeling so intense it felt alien, yet surging through her unabashedly. His arousal, fiercely raging and insistent, smashed with her in a collision of primal need. He grasped her firmly in tandem. One hand squeezed her arse, exploring the generous curves of her rear while the other held her firmly against the wall by the shoulder.

She had never felt so powerless before. She felt like a helpless pawn in front of a mighty being. A wave of vulnerability washed over her, leaving her feeling adrift in the maelstrom of confusion. The force and sensation of his touches sent her reeling, rendering her incapable of summoning even the barest of strength to resist. This was uncharted territory for her, a situation beyond anything she had ever encountered, and she felt at a loss for how to navigate it.

Her limbs seemed to disobey every command, seemingly defying all reason, and she felt as if she had been petrified in place. His touch was audacious and unsolicited, and yet she could neither muster the strength nor as firm a desire to push him away as she would have expected. Instead, her emotions felt jumbled in place, rendering her utterly confused as to what she was supposed to do here.

"H-harry…" she tried once again, a feeble call of his name out of her mouth as she stared into his dark eyes. They looked outright feral and she was at a loss. She didn't know what had suddenly come over him. Just moments ago he had been consumed with the daunting prospect of the first task and now he had transformed into a new entity. The abrupt shift in behavior left her baffled and she struggled to fathom what had triggered all of this.

Harry stared hard at her, mauling her perfectly round rear to his heart's content as he rubbed his manhood against her front. He could not explain how good it felt to squeeze the supple cheek of her arse over her skirt and he longed to feel her bare skin against his own. His fingers sank into the pillowy flesh and he breathed deeply, feeling her body against his arousal. Nothing else mattered apart from the pleasure he was going to derive from this exquisite specimen of femininity. He resolved to leave a permanent mark on her, a feeling and an emotion so profound that she would never want to let go of him.

Harry resolutely forged ahead, squeezing her arse with newfound passion. His touch became more fervent, both his hands now firmly grabbing each cheek and he pressed himself firmly against her front, pushing her further back. He reveled in the sharp gasp that escaped her utterly kissable lips as their bodies flushed together and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. Their hot breaths mingled in the sexually-charged air and the feeling of her body against him further intensified his arousal.

Daphne gasped as he pressed himself fully against her, his touch growing more insistent, leaving her breathless. Her eyes, still wide, stared into his dark ones and the sheer depths of his gaze seemed to ensnare her in a manner that eclipsed anything that had previously happened to her.

'Don't do this!' A distant cry echoed somewhere inside him. It pierced through the ritual-induced haze, making him pause momentarily. 'This isn't you! You know this isn't you!'

Daphne didn't know what had happened but suddenly, she saw a shift in his eyes — a moment of clarity that cut through the haze. He grunted, his voice heavy and she could feel how much he was straining to speak, "Please leave. It's getting tougher, Daphne. Go, before I do something unforgivable."

She stood in stunned silence as he released his grip on her and pushed her away, his jaw clenched as his inner turmoil surged. His eyes were filled with so many emotions that she felt captivated, remaining immobile.

"Leave!" His shout pierced the air, causing her to startle, and she didn't need to be told twice. Luckily, her limbs decided to obey her commands for the first time in what felt like a long while and she swiftly packed up all her belongings. With a final, fleeting glance toward him, she walked out of the room. As the door closed behind her, the last image imprinted in her mind was of the figure of Harry Potter hunched over a desk as he gripped it hard enough to almost shatter the wood beneath his fingers.

-Break-

Harry reproached himself fervently for conducting the ritual. However, he could not help but be relieved for the meticulous attention that he had devoted to strengthening his mental faculties and defenses. It was solely due to this significant commitment that he had managed to emerge from the alluring haze of desire for Daphne which thereafter granted him the small moment of clarity of mind to persuade her to leave.

'I could've become a fucking rapist today,' he thought to himself in horror. The weight of his disappointment hung heavily on him, his profound self-disgust for allowing himself to succumb to such a loss of control making him angrier.

It could not continue like this. This situation was not tenable, and it needed immediate corrective action on his part. He needed to do something about this unforeseen side-effect of the ritual he had undertaken.

However, no conventional magic that he knew about could help him control his urges, which meant he needed to conduct another little ritual to fortify his mental fortitude to an even greater extent. The realization elicited another grimace from him.

He was faced with little to no choice in front of him. If he wanted to remain in control of his emotions, particularly in moments when his hormones raged with such intensity that the boundary between morality and temptation blurred, he needed to perform another ritual geared toward further enhancing his mental strength and willpower.

'Particularly the latter,' he thought resolutely, clenching his fists hard enough that his nails dug into his palm. A repeat of what had happened today could not be tolerated.

It had taken him more than an hour of casting the most dangerous spells he could cast in this classroom to blow enough steam to temper the raging adrenaline and bring the torrent of hormones down to an acceptably low level.

The mere thought of such a scenario unfolding in a public setting sent a shiver down his spine. He could only imagine what would happen to him if he did something like that when he was in public. It would undoubtedly be severe, and he would not be surprised if he was crucified right on the spot, not that he'd deserve anything less. It was a grave situation and the entire accountability rested upon him.

He realized that he had committed one of the greatest blunders of his life. However, dwelling on his mistake in the present served no purpose. Instead, his entire focus needed to be on at least to some extent overcoming, if not entirely rectifying, the error he had made. It demanded his full attention and focus. The consequences of any misstep this time could be catastrophic.

The next hour saw Harry engrossed in profound deliberation, meticulously working on the intricacies of the ritual he needed to undertake. There was a resolute determination in his approach to leave no room for error, aware of the gravity of the situation and the possible ramifications should he misstep.

The memory of his failure with the previous ritual served as a stark reminder to be thorough with his preparations for the forthcoming ritual. He was aware that a second blunder would cause irreparable damage. There would be no coming back. As such, he had to approach the preparation with high scrutiny. He had to ensure the ritual was prepared and executed flawlessly from every possible angle.

He realized that unlike before, he could not incorporate seven runes into the sequence. Given that his primary focus was on the mind, it was of utmost importance to confine the scope of the runes solely to his mind. Introducing an excess of variables into the sequence could potentially further complicate the process. Considering the situation he found himself in, he needed to prioritize a direct and simplified approach if he wanted to critically achieve his desired outcome.

The runes to commence any ritual, to signify magic's contact with him, and to imply the end of a ritual were already engraved on his skin, which meant he no longer needed to cut himself if he wanted to conduct a ritual. However, sacrifices still required him to inflict pain. Furthermore, he needed to cut himself to give a place to any more runes he would be adding to his body.

He could not choose a random number either, which meant the least he had to do was three. After much deliberation, Harry had finally settled on what he wanted to do.

With focused intent, he meticulously replicated the process, crafting a ritual circle in the heart of the room before taking his place beside it as required of him.

Offering – signifying what he was giving to obtain the benefits.

More of his blood. He dug deeper into the wound already engraved on his skin from the previous ritual. He knew the pain would not be physical this time but he would endure it all the same. Magic required as much of him.

Remembrance – signifying the strength of memory.

The rune would ensure he never forgot any memory no matter what age those memories were from or how insignificant they were.

In an instant, Harry was assaulted by a rampage of memories from his initial years. If the Dementors had not done a brilliant job already, the ritual more than compounded the emotional maelstrom.

Harry violently pushed the memory of his mother's murder out of his mind for now. He would be sorting all the revived memories once he was done here. Right now, something else needed his full focus and attention.

Resistance – signifying his firm control over emotions.

In addition to having control over his emotions, it also signified his enhanced ability to resist any impulsive action on his part. It had the drawback of slightly reducing his ability to express strong emotions but it was not much of a loss considering his overall personality. A fair trade-off indeed for something he sorely needed.

Yet again, the runes, etched both on the floor and on his skin glowed a shade of an ethereal emerald, a clear sign of their successful linking. He took a deep, steadying breath and slowly stepped forward.

He had underestimated the ritual. He had severely underestimated it. The initial runes stayed dormant, but the new cuts on his body, including the one he had dug up further, flared with renewed intensity. However, that was just the beginning. What followed was a surge of heavy pounding in his head that intensified manifold. It grew in intensity until he felt as if his skull might shatter. Harry squeezed his eyes shut in a feeble attempt to brave the unimaginable onslaught of both physical and mental anguish.

Behind his closed eyes, his entire life played out in vivid detail. Each memory, no matter how insignificant, replayed itself with a relentless force and Harry felt the pain and torment associated with each memory assault him in a torrent of unrelenting vehemence.

He didn't even realize tears were streaming down his face, escaping his tightly closed eyes as he relived every painful loss, each brutal beating, the searing humiliations, and the sheer neglect he had endured in his short, tumultuous life.

It didn't take long for it all to crescendo when the events of the previous year played out in his mind. A gut-wrenching cry forcibly tore its way out of his throat, sending Harry crashing to the floor where he lay, sobbing uncontrollably.

He repeated his godfather's name over and over. A man he had known for a mere few hours, yet who had given his life trying to protect him from the Dementors, much like his mother had done in his infancy. A man who held a place in his heart that surpassed anyone else he had ever gotten to know. A man who deserved to live a happy life after having suffered for a crime he was innocent of, only for his future to be cruelly stolen away.

The harsh unfairness of life etched another bitter lesson deep into Harry's heart as he watched the sliver of Sirius' soul depart, consumed by the creature of immense evil, sorrow, and despair.

Minutes seemed to stretch endlessly with his mind replaying that memory over and over in a relentless loop. As the ritual drew to a close, all that was left inside the room was the crying and quivering mess of Harry Potter, bleeding and curled up on the floor, his gaze fixed blankly on the floor.

-Break-

It was very fortunate that Harry had gained significantly better control over his emotions now. After his breakdown over the memories he had been assaulted with, it took him a little while to get his thoughts under control. He utilized the remaining time he had until he had to retire for the night researching on magical creatures he might encounter in the first task.

However, he couldn't help but find his mind wandering back to his earlier encounter with Daphne. It kept playing on a loop in his mind, refusing to be dismissed.

A heavy sigh escaped him as he reminisced about the incident he deeply regretted. He couldn't deny it — he had assaulted her. There was no room for any ambiguity. He would understand perfectly if Daphne chose to distance herself from him after the events that had transpired a few hours ago. In fact, he braced himself for the possibility that she might pursue legal action against him, not that he would have anything to defend himself with. The most he could hope for was to have a candid conversation with her so that he could explain himself without telling her about the ritual he had undertaken.

'If not,' he thought with a rueful chuckle. 'Skeeter would have a very fair field day with the news. And the masses would love it.'

Exhaling a slow, measured breath, he carefully closed the book and stowed it away in its rightful place. It was time for dinner and there were a few things he needed to ensure.

He had only had the company of a single person the entire day since he had undertaken the ritual. He wanted to see how he would be affected in the presence of an entire crowd. Dinner would be the perfect time for him to test this out. He was feeling much more optimistic now that he had much better control over his emotions.

He still expected to feel powerful surges of desire in the presence of beautiful womenbut he was hopeful that he would be much better at controlling the effects, if not outright concealing them. Enhanced sexual drive and desires he might have now, but he was determined not to let it manifest in any inappropriate manner. The last thing he wanted was to come across as a creep, or worse yet, cross any boundaries.

Sighing once again at another reminder of the regrettable incident with Daphne, Harry tidied up all his belongings and strode out of the room, his destination firmly set in his thoughts.

On his way to the Great Hall, Harry took the opportunity to observe his thoughts whenever he passed the students. He could not help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him as he realized that there was no trace of animosity or any other negative emotion bubbling up inside him when he was near them. He even discovered that it did not affect him in any way whatsoever when he saw them stare at him in apprehension or disapproval.

He even managed to successfully ignore a group of particularly obnoxious Hufflepuffs who shot him disapproving glares when he passed them. Their glares made him feel as if he had killed their favorite puppy. However, he remained unfazed and continued on his way.

Harry couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy when he realized that he did tend to feel a bit more intensely whenever he encountered a beautiful woman, regardless of whether they were students or not. Hogwarts seemed to be brimming with attractive girls across all four houses, and with the addition of students from two foreign schools this year, the landscape had become even more diverse. Additionally, there were a few female professors as well who were either in their twenties or early thirties, and they were all beautiful.

Thankfully, he was pleased to discover that he had managed to maintain a strong grip on his impulses, interacting with everyone in a perfectly courteous manner. It was a comforting realization that he wouldn't be at risk of losing himself to his hormones the next time he encountered a striking face.

As he settled into his seat at the Gryffindor table, he couldn't help but notice a little tidbit. It struck him that he felt absolutely nothing for the girls who held even the slightest bit of disdain toward him, regardless of their reasons. No matter how stunning they were, he simply didn't feel any desire when he looked their way. This had happened multiple times already, and each time, the outcome had been similar.

It first began when he passed Malfoy on his way to the Great Hall. The ponce was busy sprouting some stupid shit to his bookends while Parkinson, the simpering fool, chortled at whatever he said. As he glanced at them out of the corner of his eye, he quickly discovered, much to his own relief, that he felt absolutely nothing for Parkinson. There was not even a flicker of desire, let alone a spark, when he caught sight of the brunette.

The same scenario played out when he ambled by a group of upper-year Hufflepuff girls. He recognized a few from the group of fangirls who had taken to circling around Diggory like incessant moths around a source of light. He could readily admit that they were beautiful, but he felt no stirring in either his heart or his loins when he gazed at them.

It was almost as if his magic was actively rejecting certain witches while resonating strongly with others, purely based on how they perceived him. It was curious, to say the least, but he realized it could help him in more ways than one.

He found himself pondering over the curious situation he found himself in with Daphne, unable to shake off the thought of why he had responded so favorably to her. After all, before she had approached him, they barely knew each other outside of their few interactions in classes over the years and it wouldn't have been a reach to say that they were practically strangers. Yet, he could not recall feeling so strongly for any other witch he had encountered so far. It was perplexing and the unexpected response had made him very curious.

When he glanced at Angelina and Alicia from his spot on the Gryffindor table, he wasn't the least bit surprised when the usual indifference washed over him. It was common knowledge that Angelina harbored some resentment toward him for being chosen as the champion, a position she had been vying for herself. She had, in her infinite wisdom, chosen to place the blame squarely on his shoulders, conveniently forgetting that it was Cedric Diggory who had outshone her, not him.

Harry found himself utterly unfazed by this oversight on her part. He was perfectly content to let things be. If she was so quick to toss aside years of friendship over something as trivial as this, well, then she was more than welcome to it. The same applied to Alicia who, although having no interest in the Triwizard Tournament, was harboring the same resentment toward him.

The final girl though did elicit the usual reaction from deep inside him. Harry easily maintained control over his emotions though, gracing her with a polite smile when she happened to glance in his direction.

Katie had expressed her point of view. According to her, the entire affair seemed to be blown way out of proportion. She had told him that everyone was making a mountain out of a molehill. However, she could not outright go ahead and keep Harry company considering she was closer to the other two. She had already expressed her thoughts to him about the tournament and everything that had happened since the Halloween night and he had told her he understood where she was coming from.

As dinner came to an end, Harry got up from his spot at the Gryffindor table. With a parting nod toward Katie who seemed to be the only one interested in paying him any attention, he walked away. Trailing behind a gaggle of young students from his house, his eyes scanned the Great Hall, resuming the earlier observation of his thoughts. As he was nearing the end of the tables, he spotted Daphne.

She had just risen from her seat at the near end of the Slytherin table and the instant she turned toward the exit, their gazes locked.

Harry felt as if his breath was caught in his throat. His mouth went a little dry as they held each other's eyes. She gave nothing away and held his gaze with an even stare. He was completely in the dark about what was going on in her head. However, he could not shake the feeling that it wasn't anything positive about him.

Every fiber of his being urged him to approach her, to set things straight, and to offer whatever feeble explanation he could muster for his inexplicable behavior. However, no matter how hard he willed himself to follow through, he remained firmly rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but stand there, eyes wider than usual and fixated on her.

Time seemed to stand still in that charged moment which was broken only when she pointedly averted her eyes and walked away.

Harry's gaze remained fixed on her retreating back until she crossed the threshold of the exit. With a jolt of urgency, he rushed after her with long, purposeful strides.

As he stepped into the corridor outside the Great Hall, his eyes darted around frantically in search of any sign of her. He spotted her already far into the distance, making her way toward the small staircase that he knew led to the dungeons.

His steps quick, he darted toward her, hoping to catch her before she could reach the Slytherin Common Room. The pathway they were on was less frequented by students and only a few Slytherins who usually kept to themselves used it to traverse to and from the Great Hall. It would provide them with a semblance of privacy, which Harry was grateful for, considering the nature of the conversation they needed to have.

He was fully aware she could hear someone rushing toward her. His footsteps against the floor of Hogwarts were in no way silent and their echo seemed to add a strange tension of anticipation in the air.

"Daphne," he called out, slowly closing the distance between them. She came to a sudden stop, staring straight ahead. Slowly, he walked toward her, taking care not to make any sudden movement that could worsen the situation more than it already had.

Her posture was rigid and tense. She seemed to be holding her breath and he could see her fists clenching her Hogwarts skirt tightly. Letting out a soft breath, he approached her cautiously until he was only an arm's distance from her.

"Can we talk?" He asked tentatively.

Suddenly, she pivoted, and he was shocked when she backhanded him right across the face. He instinctively brought his hand up to his stinging cheek, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he took a deep breath. When he reopened them, he discovered her glaring at him heatedly, hand cradling the one she had slapped him with.

"I deserved that," he muttered, his voice subdued. His gaze averted briefly and he braced himself for the conversation that needed to happen.

"You deserve much more for pulling a shit like that, you asshole," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. If looks could kill, he would've died five times over. The intensity of her gaze could have melted the thickest metal.

"I do," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "I have no excuses. I fucked up, and I dragged you into my mess. You didn't deserve to be treated like that. I am aware that your forgiveness is the last thing I deserve but I'm asking for it all the same. I'm genuinely ashamed of what I did and I truly want to make things right between us after what happened back there."

The silence stretched between them as Daphne stared at him unwaveringly for a long while. Harry held her hard stare with as much calmness as he could muster. He had no idea what was going on in that mind of hers and all he could do was wait patiently for her response.

"Why?" She asked quietly, breaking the silence. "Why did you do it?"

Harry was taken aback, to say the least. Out of all the possible responses, he had not expected her to ask for his reasons. It was surprising, but it gave him hope that perhaps he could salvage this situation.

He racked his brain, trying to come up with an explanation he could offer that would mollify her. It had to be concrete enough for her to buy into it without a shadow of a doubt, yet also something he could back up if he was required to prove. There was no way he could tell her he had been pranked or something. That was too blatant of an excuse. He needed to come up with something that struck the balance between believability and credibility. It was a tight spot he found himself in, but he could not fuck it up with a half-assed excuse.

He still felt profoundly guilty for what he had done and in the end, all he could do was let out a weary sigh. There was only one possible explanation that could mollify her, and it was one his conscience was screaming at him to part with.

Daphne listened with increasing incredulity as he told her about the ritualistic runic modification he had subjected himself to. A rune to enhance his physical and mental fortitude that had backfired in the most spectacular of ways. She watched, her mouth hanging open, at the sight of the rune engraved on his skin. It looked like a tattoo and she had to admit it looked beautiful.

Harry couldn't help but notice how captivated she seemed to be at the sight of the rune. He had told her only about one. It was enough truth she needed to know and it was backed by truth on his skin.

"I had no idea something like that would happen. I spent the entire day holed up in that room and you were the first person I saw… I never imagined I'd lose control like that. I'm truly sorry, Daphne."

She let out a quiet sigh.

"I have no idea what to say," she whispered. "A part of me wants to bash your head in for what you did, but another part of me… understands why it happened. You seriously couldn't keep it in your pants, Potter?"

"Well, curse me for finding you so beautiful," he retorted immediately, holding back a smirk as she flushed up brilliantly. "And I stopped myself in time, didn't I? You've no idea how hard it was. Can you imagine what might've happened if I didn't have it in me to keep it in my pants, as you put it?"

Daphne breathed sharply and looked away.

"Fine. You've made your point. But just because I understand doesn't mean I'm going to let you off the hook so easily," she pointed out. "You need to earn my forgiveness, Potter."

Harry gave her a relieved smile. He could not explain why but he was genuinely glad that things seemed to have settled down between them. Yet, he was slightly surprised with how easily she had accepted his reasons and even understood them. He asked her as much and her response surprised him even more.

"I might not know you as well as most, but I know you're not that kind of person," she replied softly. "You don't have it in you to assault someone like that. When it happened, I was frozen in place. You have no idea how it felt when I left, seeing you visibly restraining yourself so I could escape. It felt like you were possessed. I realized immediately that something was wrong and you were not fully in control of your actions."

A profound silence hung between them as Harry stared at her in wonder.

"And for what it's worth, the fact that you had enough self-control to restrain those urges so that I could escape speaks volumes about you as a person."

"Daphne…" he whispered. He was truly touched by her words and his emotions must have shone through his eyes as she smiled softly.

"Alright then. It's getting late. You can take the turn up ahead to go back," she said and turned around, walking ahead. Slowly, Harry followed behind her.

They reached the turn shortly and gazed at each other.

"Tell me something, though. If you really thought I was not in full control, why did you slap me so hard?"

Daphne's response was to smirk at him.

"Just because I thought so doesn't mean it was true back then. A slap was the least you deserved. Now, hopefully that would serve as a reminder to not let your hormones get the better of you."

Harry could only stare at her as she smirked and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the corridor. Something had shifted between them today. He could feel it. His magic seemed to sing as he thought about her and he felt an even greater connection with her after their candid conversation.

No matter how hard he tried to control his emotions, he could not help but yearn for her once again.

TBC…

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