AN - Whilst I have been getting the kudos from Dorothea Greengrass with regards to helping her with her most excellent story "A Marriage of Convenience" (something you should all check out by the way), she has been just as dedicated and helpful to me with this idea. Without her thoughtfulness, wit and carefully considered questions, this story would be so much less than it is. So thank you Dorothea, You Rock as well.

A Pearl of Great Price

Part 1 – The Incident

She woke again, covered in a cold sweat and shivering. It had been like this since the night of what she still called the incident. It was, she thought, the best and worst four hours of her life, and every year around the anniversary she would wake, heart pounding, as what if scenarios played with her mind; and always the worst one was: what if he hadn't heard her?

In the end, thirty seconds had changed her life. Had he stepped away any earlier, stopped trying to discover the distressed call he thought he had heard, she would have had a much sorrier tale to tell, and who knew what would have happened to her future or whether she would have had one at all.

Slowly bringing her ragged breathing under control, she felt her heart rate drop back to a more normal beat. She rolled over to her other side facing her lover, watching his calm face as he continued his slumber, unaware of the panic and terror she had been experiencing barely seconds before.

After several moments she lay her head on his chest and listened to the slow rhythmic beat of his heart, revelling as his arm encircled her waist, drawing her nearer to him and calming her further.

The darkness that had encompassed the bed lightened slightly as a piece of clever magic that he had enchanted the curtains with simulated pale moonlight washing over them if one of them was awake. But she saw nothing as her eyes stared unseeing at the closed curtains around his bed as she allowed herself to think of that night that had changed her life in ways she couldn't have imagined.

The Yule Ball of her fourth year should have been a joyous occasion; her first ball out from under the ever watchful eyes of her parents. She had been attending the societal balls with her family since the age of thirteen, when all girls of certain breeding were first introduced to society at large.

She fingered the single pearl at her throat, her mæġdenhād gift, presented to her by her father at her very first ball. This particular one had adorned the necks of six different girls of six different families, passed from father to daughter via each mother on its way through time.

Her sister wore a similar, though significantly older one, an heirloom from their father's mother who had no daughters to gift it to. She recalled feeling ever so proud as she watched her sister and three other girls with similar birthdays have theirs bestowed on them by their beaming fathers, virtually eighteen months to the day after her own presentation. Those gifts, like her own, would remain at each of their throats, until they were formally conferred to their own husbands on their wedding night, as custom dictated.

She tilted her head back so that she could see him once more, if she had any say in the matter it would be him and only him that she would consider. Her parents she knew would not gainsay her on this, not after the way the events of the past three years had unfolded, they would support her to the hilt, the only issue would be her Grandfather.

Her eyes drifted back to the curtains as her mind continued to replay the memories of that night. Her hand clenched tighter around the pearl; it had been torn from her neck that night, but he had found it and saved it, just as he had saved her.

She had been stupid and naïve. She had trusted that her privileged background and who her father was would protect her from exactly what had happened, but her happy sheltered life had been smashed that evening, and still three years on she suffered in this small way because of it.

She had been ecstatic when the tall and aristocratically handsome sixth year from Durmstrang had asked her to go to the ball; she knew that she wouldn't even consider going with any of her male year mates from her house, and given that she was in green and silver it was highly unlikely that anyone else from her classes would ask her.

She had seen him watching her occasionally in the great hall over meals and in the library, when they were both there studying after classes. And so, when Nayden had asked her, she couldn't hold back her excitement and had immediately consented to be escorted by him, before rushing back to the dorms to gush to the other girls about her handsome date.

She had been a bubbling mess for the next ten days as she and her friends had made their plans regarding gowns or robes, what shoes and jewellery to wear and how to do their makeup and hair. A tear slid slowly down her face as she remembered her youthful and immature fantasies that made up those days before that night.

She remembered her own dress of a simple yet elegant A Line Emperor of green silk with its thin halter neck, lifting her developing bust, accentuating her thin waist and already long legs.

The silk started as a dark, almost black forest green on the halter and slowly faded as the dress flowed down until it finally became transparent at her knees, stopping a bare inch above the floor, leaving her long calves and shoes visible. Each of her arms had affixed at bust level a piece of the same material as though she wore streamers which terminated at her knee if her arms were down.

It had started so well; Nayden along with one of his schoolmates, who escorted one of the Slytherin sixth year girls, had arrived promptly outside of their dorm entrance at the appointed time of a quarter to eight.

This allowed them to have a leisurely walk from the dungeons to the great hall, and gave them long enough to arrive on time without having to rush to do so. He had been a doting escort and had praised her dress and beauty on several occasions during that walk.

She remembered that she had been floating with the clouds at his attention, and it was only with the opportunity of hindsight that she could see how his many platitudes were nothing but hot air. She had flushed slightly as he had whispered in her ear and held her close as he escorted her to a table of other Durmstrang students and their dates.

Of the fourteen seated at their table for dinner, she had been the only Hogwarts student, but there had also been three French students, two girls and a boy, all at least in their sixth years, and she had spent her time conversing with Nayden in his broken English and the girl Monique to her side with her own fluent French.

He was a wonderful dancer, as she knew he would be, and for the first two and a half hours her first solo ball had been breathtaking. Nayden had been attentive and generous with his time, going and getting her drinks from the refreshment bar, even managing to sneak her a small glass of the sweet winter wine the second time that they had stopped dancing.

Potentially that was where the trouble had started. Over the next twenty or thirty minutes her head had become cloudy, and she was slightly unsteady on her feet.

'Vat about valk outside?' Nayden suggested. 'Maybe the vine vasn't good idea.'

Had he slipped some sort of Confundus Potion into one of her drinks? She'd never know; later tests weren't conclusive either way.

At the time though her guard had been down, and she had giggled at his suggestion, but made no protest to stop him as he led her outside and down into the Winter Garden.

She sighed, blinking back fresh tears as the memories came hard and fast to her now. He had led her to the very rear of the garden and sat her on a bench.

He pulled his wand from the pocket of his stylish robes, waved it about them and cast a series of spells in a language she didn't understand. As he put his wand back in his pocket, he said, 'I put up varming charms. It vould be shame to let beautiful girl go cold.'

That should have caught her attention, but it didn't, and as she later reviewed the incident in a Pensieve, she severely berated herself for not putting the clues together sooner. With a clear head and time it was easy to remember it had been well advertised that the outside areas would be covered by a charm cast by Professor Flitwick. The charm would ensure that the Winter Garden and the outdoor seating stayed at an enjoyable temperature for all, but allowed for some snow to dust the paths and byways.

Later during the investigation it was determined by the Aurors that he had actually cast a variant of the wizarding Notice-Me-Not-Charm that caused anyone who looked into that corner to not only not see them, but to simply forget that they had been touched by a charm.

The Senior Auror had also determined that he had cast a minor Compliance Charm on her; given her confused state at the time, the Auror said that it was understandable that she didn't feel its touch as it settled over her.

Her memories flashed again, and she buried her head against her lover's chest as if to seek shelter.

Suddenly Nayden's mouth was on hers, hard and insistent. His tongue tasted bitter from alcohol, as it forced its way into her mouth. The smell of his cologne was sweet and cloying as it assaulted her nose.

What was he doing? This wasn't right ... was it? She hadn't given him permission to kiss her ...had she? She tried pushing him away, but her body didn't respond to the command of her brain.

The kiss went on and on, his tongue was violating her mouth, making her want to gag at the acidic and sour taste that he deposited on her tongue. She had never been kissed before, but she was pretty sure that this wasn't the way it was supposed to be. She shuddered involuntarily.

'Not vorry honey, I vill varm you up.'

She'd never forget these words, full of smug self-satisfaction, they burned their way into her psyche and would haunt her forever.

She closed her eyes again, willing the next part of the memory not to play, but it was of no use, her mind would not obey her, and she gave an involuntary shudder, but felt her lovers arm flex and hold her tighter, as her recollection of events took her to the worst moment of her short life.

Nayden's hand ghosted down her neck and danced along her collarbone, then suddenly he was back to kissing her. She still hadn't moved. Her mind felt like it was covered in a thick mist. A small part was yelling at her to function; move, do something, anything!

In desperation she concentrated on that section of her mind, and slowly the fog gave way, and became less dense. She needed to protect herself against whatever that fog was! It was foreign and wrong and she needed it gone.

Her Occlumency shields were down and she tried pushing them back into place, they moved but were painfully slow in responding, not at all what she was used to. Her pulse thumped in her ears as she began to panic, no matter what she did, no matter how she pushed, she couldn't get them to stay in place. What the hell was wrong with her? Why couldn't she control her body?

She tried burrowing her way further into her lovers chest, he accommodated her rolling to his side and engulfed her in an embrace that drew her closer to his upper body. Her heart was thundering and she felt sure that she would wake him with the noise that it was making, as her memories continued to bombard her.

His hand slipped into the top of her bodice. Cold clammy fingers tightened around her breast and squashed it, rolling it from finger to finger. Why was he doing this to her? Had she done something to deserve this? His hand pushed deeper into her dress. The fabric of the halter tore from its attachment point, the noise sounding loud and harsh to her ears. His fingers gave her nipple a rough squeeze, shooting a bolt of pain through her.

She pulled herself closer to her lover, feeling his chest hair scrape against her nipples as she shifted. When Daphne had first got her menses she had rejoiced, knowing that she was joining her mother in womanhood. But the pain from those first cramps, the bloated feeling and the irritability that accompanied this rite of passage were all things that she could have happily given up.

A wry smile crossed her lips. Having said that, the jury was decidedly still out regarding the hypersensitivity in her nipples. Over the last few years she had found some very distinct advantages to that situation.

As her cycle peaked, her nipples would and could either damn her with pain or delight her with pleasure. She had discovered this completely by accident when she had worn her first silk pyjama top to bed a year later. The silk had ghosted over her breasts and rubbed her nipples in just the right way to drive her slightly crazy.

She would be forever grateful in the days following the incident for this side effect of her cycle, as it was the pain from that mauled, sensitive nipple that kicked her brain into gear, finally allowing her some traction to fight back.

The pain blew through the fog like a hurricane. She slammed her Occlumency Shields into place, taking stock of her body as she felt it begin to respond to her instruction again. Ever so slowly she readied herself, she knew that she would only get one chance to attempt escape.

She mentally cursed herself, why had she left her wand in her room? She'd never thought that tonight of all nights she would need it. She gently kicked off her silver, slingback heels, ensuring that they made no sound as they were deposited on the ground.

His hand groped her harder and more insistently, causing her to inadvertently moan in pain, resulting in a repeat performance. Did the jerk honestly think that she was getting some sort of pleasure out of his constant pawing of her breast? Obviously.

What had her mother told her at the start of the year? If ever a boy gives you trouble muffin, don't hesitate, go straight for where it will hurt him most. Give him a swift kick between his legs with either a knee or a fist, and then get out of there as fast as you can!

If ever there was a situation that her mother had been talking about it was now. She steeled herself. She moved her arm back gently. Her fist clenched. She swung it down, driving hard with her shoulder.

She hit the inside of his leg on the way through, but her momentum was sufficient that her fist connected with his family jewels hard, causing him to buckle in half. It forced the air from his lungs and pulled his hand from her breast. Unfortunately, however, that movement ripped more of her dress, leaving her boob exposed to the cool night air.

She pushed off him and started running; a fumbling hand reached for her, but only succeeded in finding her necklace. It pulled tight against her throat before breaking. She pumped her legs as hard as she could along the snowy path.

As she slowed slightly and tried to turn she felt her right foot give way from under her and she slipped to the ground jarring her knees before sliding and hitting the wall with her shoulder. The slide tore her dress further and scraped some of the skin from her hands and knees.

A spell fizzled past her head and splashed against the wall. It would have hit her, if she had actually managed to remain standing and round the corner. She scrambled back to her feet and fled along the path before he had time to line up his next cast.

She dodged through the hedgerows and colonnades, desperately trying to find her way back to the castle and safety. Her feet had become ripped and cut, the nail on her left big toe gone, but she had no choice, other than to keep up her frantic pace as she left bloody footprints in the snow for him to follow.

It was only later, after the memory had been reviewed by two female Aurors from the DMLE, that she learnt that she had run for two minutes before she gave up trying to maintain her dignity by holding up the tattered bust of her dress, to instead focus on running using both her arms to drive her forward.

The Senior Auror, Connie Hammer, said that the scene reminded her of descriptions she had read in school, depicting the ancient amazon women of yore. Single breast bared, hair streaming out behind her as she ran, bloodied but not broken, and a singular focus on her face.

'You should be proud of yourself,' Connie had told her. 'You fought back! You didn't go quietly into the night! You didn't lose yourself to your fears, you fought back and you won! You bought yourself enough time to survive! You young lady are a warrior and don't you let anyone tell you differently.

Her memories still flashed through her mind, and as hard as she tried, she couldn't control them. She desperately wanted him to wake and to hold her close, kiss her and take the memories away like he always did. But she would not wake him, not deliberately at any rate, he had come back after his quick trip to the continent dirty and exhausted. He needed his sleep so she had slipped him a little sleeping draught to help him fall asleep and left herself to suffer in silence and alone.

She felt like she had been running for hours. She knew that she hadn't, but her lungs were burning, her pulse was racing in her ears, and her mouth was dry, making her breathing even more ragged in the cold night air.

Occasionally, spells would fizzle past her as she moved her way through the garden. He was gaining on her, and she knew that she was just about spent. Her legs were beginning to feel heavy, and her energy was being sapped fast by the pain in her feet, but she knew she had to keep going, keep pushing.

More spells splashed against the walls and pillars of the garden somehow missing her but causing her breath to hitch every time another hissed past her. Twice tripping jinxes had brushed her heels as she turned a corner, making her stumble, but somehow she had maintained her footing and continued running.

A Langlock Curse clipped her shoulder just as she had started to cry for help. She felt tears wash down her cheeks as her voice was muted to a whisper, and a cold feeling spread through her body, almost paralysing her. Now she really had to find help rather than calling for it and hoping someone would hear her.

She lifted her gaze to her lover's relaxed face and felt a wet smile form on her lips. Her fingers moved to his cheek on their own accord and she stroked the smooth, freshly shaven skin from his evening shower. He subconsciously nuzzled her hand; something he always did when awake and her heart overflowed with the love she felt for the man who held her in his arms.

He told her later that it was her scream of 'HEL' that had caught his attention, there had been no-one else near him and so he had moved deeper into the Winter Garden to investigate the panicked sound. He had thought that his mind was playing tricks on him when no other words reached him and he had been about to walk back to the castle when he had heard something break.

She remembered that moment well; it was the darkest point of the whole incident, when she felt that all hope had gone. In an instant her mind took her there and she could see it happening before her eyes.

She pushed herself around another corner, but a tripping hex caught her squarely on her legs, she fell sideways, panicked and slid on her side through the snow and ice. Her back collided with a pedestal and she looked up to see a vase of winter roses.

It was over! He had caught her, she had nothing left, she was spent, her feet were balls of hot white pain. Tears streamed from her eyes and her feet bled into the snow, around her the crisp white snowflakes were already turning pink as her blood mixed with them and made a slushy mess.

She wasn't sure if she believed in the gods, she had never really seen evidence of their existence, but she hoped that whoever was out there heard her prayer as she lay on her back and looked up at the winter sky. Then, as if the world slowed around her, she saw the vase topple, spilling sideways and fall to the ground smashing in a loud crash near her feet.

Nayden had almost reached her and was swearing to himself in his native language when the smashing sound from the vase caused him to freeze. His face contorted in rage, and she knew that whatever happened from here, it would be ten times worse than if she had just stayed and endured his treatment from before.

Nayden closed the last few paces that now separated them, 'Silly girl, silly girl, why run? Ve vere having good time …yes?' The sneer on his handsome face turned it decidedly ugly.

Her breath caught in her mouth as she heard it; the crackling of ice being trod on as someone stepped along a snowy pathway. She tilted her head back and looked along the path she had been about to run down and she saw him. A small shape, at the end of the path, some twenty meters away, his cloak hood up and silhouetted by the rising half-moon.

Nayden turned when he saw her eyes widen and looked along the same path, stiffening as he saw the shape of a boy at the end of it. He turned his attention back to her and with a flick of his wrist she was tied up like a calf with only her head freely able to move so that she could watch.

Nayden's focus shifted back to the figure at the end of the path. 'Should not have come, small boy,' Nayden barked at him. She saw him gripping his wand tighter and crouching slightly lower. 'Now I has two messes to clean.'

The figure dropped into his own relaxed crouch. 'Let …Her …Go,' he growled, she was surprised at the venom clearly evident in his voice. She knew that voice, the identity of its owner tickled her subconscious, but his name would not come to her.

The malice in the small statement had obviously surprised Nayden too, as she saw him flinch ever so faintly. Nayden rolled his shoulders, and her eyes widened as he swirled his wand around his head before jamming it towards the ground between him and his opponent, 'A muffling ward,' she tried to yell to the stranger as she recognised the spell for what it was, but her voice was only just above a whisper.

'I think…' Nayden started. His arm moved and he cast a Stunner towards the shadow, and she prayed that whoever the stranger was that he wouldn't be caught off guard.

He didn't disappoint her; the shadow leaned left, and the spell buzzed past his right shoulder, surprising her with the calm manner in which he shifted to deal with the hostile spell. Nayden too was shocked as he had already started to lower his wand in anticipation of an easy victory.

With a snarl Nayden cast two more Stunners at the shadow. This time the figure moved right, dodging the first spell before an almost opaque Protego Shield fell into place in front of him, easily absorbing the second spell before it flickered out, and the figure resumed his casual stance, silently mocking Nayden's efforts.

Nayden snarled furiously and started casting spell after spell down the path. But the figure at the end of the path just moved, dodged, and set shield charms when he couldn't get out of the way, fluidly protecting himself from the barrage of spells that the Durmstrang student cast in his direction.

Five minutes later, and still the volley of spells was all one way traffic as Nayden grew increasingly frustrated and expelled a significant amount of magical power in his attempt to breach the defence of the other individual.

Hope found some purchase within her heart once more as she watched the shadowy figure deal with everything Nayden dared to throw at him, his muffling charm would only hide so much and she knew now that he couldn't afford to be noticed again by someone older and more experienced.

The bitter cold had leached into her bones after lying in the snow for what she estimated had to have been at least fifteen minutes. Nayden was breathing hard and swearing at himself in his native tongue. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his wand movements were getting sloppier as he cast.

She almost voiced a cheer when finally Nayden stopped firing spells, his wand held limply in his hand. He yelled a stream of vitriol at the shadowy figure who seemed to be taunting him by his mere silent presence.

She found herself relaxing slowly. Whoever her rescuer was, he was definitely competent, given his defensive duelling display up to this point in time. The half-moon peaked over his right shoulder as he stood still at the end of the path, barely breathing hard at all.

'My turn.' Again, there was a hint of barely suppressed rage in the voice, and still she couldn't identify him. Energy sparked and bled off him and then he gave voice to a single word: 'Stupefy!' He did not shout or gesture dramatically; his wand rolled fluently in his hand, and a beam of red light flashed from his wand.

The glow from the spell lit his face for an instant, she thought she saw a flash of reflected light from a pair of glasses, before the spell streaked away from his wand and towards Nayden and herself, leaving the stranger cloaked in shadow once more.

The spell suffused the pathway, Nayden and her in red light as it sped closer, it wasn't the usual crimson red ball the size of a small watermelon like most stunning spells she had seen. This was a deep blood red flash, angry, crackling with magical power and easily half a metre in diameter.

The bolt of magic flew down the path, and she saw Nayden cast a shield in front of himself and brace his legs for the impact. The spell crashed into Nayden's shield and rolled through his defence as if the barrier Nayden had erected was made of wet parchment. Then it thumped into the Durmstrang student lifting him off his feet and throwing him bodily into the wall at her feet, unconscious.

For the first time in the past twenty minutes she felt herself relax. Her saviour stepped towards her and quietly uttered, 'Finite!' The ropes that held her disappeared.

She scrambled to her feet, wincing as she did so. She wasn't quite sure when she found herself in his arms, but one moment she was standing there on her own, the next she was collapsing forwards, only to be caught and held gently in thin, but strong arms.

His eyes met hers, and she gasped in recognition. Only one boy at Hogwarts had burning emerald eyes behind wire framed glasses. She went to speak when he cut her off. 'Relax, you're safe now; I won't hurt you.' Obviously he mistook her gasp of surprise as one of fear. She could only nod to his assertion, knowing all too well that whatever Harry Potter was, he would not cause her further harm deliberately.

She saw his eyes widen as he looked down her body, taking in her injuries, and she belatedly recalled that her dress was ripped and one of her breasts was exposed. She scrambled, trying to grab the bodice of her dress, but her fingers were clumsy and shaking and she couldn't maintain her grip on the offending piece of material.

She felt tears of shame and embarrassment prick at her eyes; this was not how a boy was supposed to see her naked breast for the first time. When she finally looked back up at him in defeat, a blush rising on her face and neck, she saw that his eyes were closed tightly, and he was looking away from her as he fumbled with the clasp of his cloak.

She doubted that she would ever be able to describe the feelings that washed over her in that moment, but as he wrapped the black cloth around her, the simple gesture giving her back her dignity, she felt the tears of gratitude splash down her cheeks.

She felt him shift her slightly in his arms, still holding her tightly to his chest. In her bare feet with her knees bent slightly she was only fractionally shorter than him, so she estimated his height to be around that of her own at almost five foot four inches.

Turning her head, she watched as he muttered 'Incarcerous!' Nayden was bound up like a Sunday pork roast. He levitated Nayden's wand towards them, ended the spell and snatched it out of the air. No wonder he was a seeker: his movements were fast and sure. Pocketing Nayden's wand along with his own his attention was suddenly on her.

'Do you think you can walk?' he asked, looking slightly down at her with concern, somehow she found herself trying to burrow her way into his skinny chest.

'Maybe,' she replied in a voice that surprised her with its volume. Obviously his Finite had dispelled more than the ropes. He moved away from her slightly and suddenly she missed his warmth. Tentatively she took a step and immediately cried out in pain as she tried to place her weight on just one of her injured feet.

The pain had her nearly collapsing again and only Harry's quick embrace saved her from face planting, as her hands were still clutching his cloak tightly around her body. When she looked at him once more the concern on his face was evident.

'I think we will take that as a no,' he said, anxiety clearly apparent in his voice. 'I will carry you if that's alright, we don't have too far to go and I don't want to levitate you in case I get distracted and accidently cancel the spell.'

She was about to nod her consent when a thought came to her. 'Can you cast a Featherlight Charm?'

He shook his head. 'Not very well, and I wouldn't want to risk casting it on you, in case I botch it.' Harry gave her a small wry smile, 'Sorry.' In that moment she felt like a little bit of light had just seeped back into her world.

'If I had …could I borrow your wand?' she asked tentatively, 'I'll cast it on myself.'

He fixed her with a look that she didn't have time to comprehend before it was gone, he gave her a nod and fished his wand back out from his pocket and handed it over to her without hesitation. She reached out from under the cloak with a slightly trembling hand and numb fingers that took a couple of tries before they managed to clutch it from his hand.

'Could …umm …could you close your eyes again, please? I …I need to open the cloak for a moment.' Her voice sounded timid to her own ears and she knew that he had no reason to trust her; she was a Slytherin, and he a Gryffindor and yet he simply closed his eyes and waited for her to cast the spell.

She shrugged the cloak out of the way, knowing that the closer she targeted the centre of her mass the lighter she would be. When she was sure she had performed the spell correctly, she retracted the wand from her bodice and pulled the cloak back around her tightly.

'I'm ready,' she said, holding the wand out to him so that he could pocket it again.

His voice was kind, and he gave her a crooked grin, 'Hold on to it for a while, you never know you may need it again to look after me.' Bending slightly, he lifted her into his arms with little effort, before they were moving swiftly away from the battle zone and towards the castle, leaving the unconscious Nayden in the snow behind them.

She blinked back the tears in her eyes and looked once more on Harry's face. He was still sleeping deeply, and his steady breathing was still comforting as her memories continued to plague her mind, she stretched up and gave a feather light kiss to his chin and then several along his jaw. In hindsight, she was sure that she had fallen in love with him in that moment when he had told her to retain his wand.

The trust that he had shown her in that moment and the instant safety she felt with his wand in her hand, whilst being cradled in his arms and wrapped in his cloak was something that she was never able to fully describe to her friends.

As they neared the entry hall she buried her head into the crook of his neck, not wanting to see pity in anyone's eyes as they passed. He smelt fresh, so she breathed in again deeper and caught the scent of mint, the ocean and sandalwood among other things.

She heard the gasps of several people who obviously saw them and heard their running footsteps and the doors opening to the Great Hall as they dashed back inside. The faces she caught from the corner of her eyes were white with shock, some found their voice to ask what had happened, but Harry just ignored them all and continued straight past them towards the Infirmary.

They were approaching the Infirmary doors when the sounds of several people running reached her ears, and she turned her head to look over Harry's shoulder. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Madam Pomfrey had just turned down the Infirmary corridor some fifty metres away and were rushing after them.

But Harry it seemed was oblivious to them all. He had asked her several times during their journey together if she was okay, but no-one else's voice seemed to register with him. All of his focus and attention was aimed squarely at her. She felt her face flush as she thought about this and she decided that she could absolutely get used to being the focus of his attention, if he treated her as wonderfully as he had done so far.

She was brought back to the present as he pushed the Infirmary doors open and entered the ward. But he didn't stop moving once inside, he strode purposefully across the room and made his way over to a bed that was close to the window and lowered her gently on to it.

'I think you will be okay now,' he said, smiling down softly at her as he let her go. Without his presence so close to her, she felt small, cold and alone.

'Keep the cloak until you're finished with it. I will however need my wand back, though if you don't mind.' His voice was still soft and soothing, a shy smile ghosting on his lips as he waited for her to hand it back to him; he didn't move to take it from her hand, he merely waited until she was ready to release it back to him.

She gave him a cautious smile of her own, she was about to reach out to give the wand back to him when she changed her mind and used her free hand to catch his hand instead, suddenly not wanting him to leave. 'Please stay, at least until I'm asleep.' She saw the surprise written on his face, and so she squeezed his hand and reiterated 'Please.'

Even after he had nodded his assent, she was loathe to release his hand, it was warm and she so wanted to feel warmth right now. She continued to hold his hand, forcing him to awkwardly pull up a chair and sit down. They were staring shyly at each other and still holding hands when the staff finally arrived, wheezing slightly from what had probably been the first time they had run in a long while.

It was Madam Pomfrey who moved first, she took one look at her battered and bleeding feet which were poking out of the end of the cloak, and sprang into action, cutting off any comments the others had by drawing curtains around the bed and blocking the rest of the staff from view.

'I'm going to have to ask you to leave Mr Potter,' the medi witch said in a perfunctory fashion, bustling over to him and trying to chivvy him out of the seat.

'He stays,' she blurted out, her voice as calm and controlled as she could make it under the circumstances. She felt better with him there holding her hand, she knew that he would protect her even if she still held his wand, she needed him as an anchor right now or she would break, she knew this in her heart.

Madam Pomfrey bristled at this. 'Miss Greengrass, I am going to have to give you a comprehensive exam, which will mean that you are going to lose a majority, if not all of your clothes, I do not think it appropriate for …'

She cut the medi witch off. 'He stays, I want him to stay.' Her voice was full of anguish, and she knew he heard it. 'I am sure that Harry can be trusted to keep his eyes closed.'

She watched hopefully as he tilted his head slightly, as if considering her an interesting puzzle box that he couldn't solve. Finally he nodded his head to her, and she let out a breath that she didn't know that she had been holding.

'Madam Pomfrey, can you conjure me a blindfold please?' He smiled at her. 'I thank you for your trust Grrr …er …Daphne.' He blushed slightly as he stumbled on her name. 'But I am just a teenage boy and you are a very pretty girl. I fear the temptation might be too much, should I be forced to depend on my will power alone.'

He gave her that crooked grin again, and even though it shouldn't have after the evening's events, her heart gave a little skip and she blushed at his honest compliment. She knew that she was far from looking her best right now, bloody, battered and bruised, dress torn in multiple places, hair askew and her makeup running everywhere and yet still he thought her pretty.

'But I will stay if you want me too,' he said cutting through her thoughts, and all she could do was nod her assent with wet eyes.

And so he sat there, taking possession of his wand again in his other hand when Madam Pomfrey told her to give it back to him. Her hands were shaking again, and worry twisted in her stomach as she watched Madam Pomfrey ready her equipment for the exam.

He obviously picked up on this fact moments before he was to be blindfolded; in what was a thicker than strictly necessary eye mask, he looked her in the eyes and said quietly, 'You'll get through this Daphne, don't let him win. You are a strong and resilient witch, you can do this.'

A lump caught in her throat and tears threatened to flow again at his words, but she couldn't look away from his eyes until Madam Pomfrey covered them with the mask holding it in place with a medical sticking charm. She braced herself holding tight to Harry's words and gave Madam Pomfrey a shaky nod of her head indicating she was ready to proceed with the exam.

Madam Pomfrey gave her a warm smile before pulling the cloak further away from her feet and started working her way up her body, a Dicta Quill dutifully recording all her findings.

He gave her comfort by softly squeezing her hand when she was asked tough and personal questions about what had happened, talking to her during the forty minute examination when he was allowed to, distracting her from the tests and in the silences when Madam Pomfrey was repairing the damage to her body.

She learnt more about him in that time than she had in their entire three and a half years of school together. And even though she knew that he couldn't see her, as she sat there for several minutes in just her knickers as Madam Pomfrey examined and recorded the bruising on her breast, shoulders, back and ribs, she couldn't help but blush a little every time she felt his unseeing eyes on her.

Several minutes after the end of the exam, she had been bundled into a hospital robe which forced her to let go of Harry's hand much to her dismay. His hand however remained there waiting for her, some of her dried blood staining his fingers as she was tucked under the fresh blankets. Only then did Madam Pomfrey deem her appropriately attired to be in the presence of a young man and finally removed the blindfold from Harry's eyes

As soon as she was able, she clasped his hand again, pulling it slightly closer to her, as she got as comfortable as she could in a bed that wasn't her own.

She was swathed in bandages, ointments and other unguents, most of her blood had been wiped from her body but she wouldn't be allowed to shower until the morning. She had been given a vial of potion to take which would help her go to sleep, but she wanted to wait for his vision to be restored before taking it.

Whilst he was still blinking from the light entering his eyes for the first time in more than half an hour, Madam Pomfrey left the curtained area, giving her strict instructions that she was to drink the potion in the next couple of minutes. She pulled him from his seat and forward so that he sat on the side of her bed.

She studied his face for a moment, grabbed a handful of his robes and gently tugged his face down towards her own. She licked her suddenly dry lips and then she planted a lingering kiss on his cheek.

Her voice broke as she released him and sank back into the bed, 'Thank you, Harry; I will forever be in your debt.' A tear escaped from her eye, rolled down her cheek and onto the pillow.

He sat back on her bed and touched his cheek where she had kissed him, wonder written on his face. Still blinking slightly against the light, he smiled again, 'No you won't Daphne; I only did what anyone else would have done, you don't owe me anything.'

Another tear traced its way down her face, and he reached a cautious hand out and thumbed it away. She felt a powerful urge to turn her cheek into his palm and nuzzle it, but managed to refrain from doing so. 'Now drink your potion and get some rest,' he said in his gentle voice.

She gave him a weak smile, and lifted the vial of potion Madam Pomfrey had handed her not two minutes ago towards her mouth. 'Will you be here when I wake up?' she asked him falteringly, still not wanting him to leave.

'If you wish me to be,' he gave her a smile that danced in his eyes. At her shy nod he continued, 'Then I will do my very best to be here when you wake, now drink your potion.'

She tipped the potion in her mouth and swallowed, half gagging on the taste.

'Yes I know; vile stuff isn't it?' He chuckled slightly at the mew of distaste that left her mouth. 'I will see you in the morning Daphne, until then sweet dreams.' With that he bent forward and kissed her softly on her forehead.

She felt warmth blossom through her body, but didn't know if it was from the potion or Harry's kiss. She smiled sleepily, looking one last time at the boy with vivid green eyes who had rescued her, before her eyes closed and sleep claimed her.