Colours of Obsession

A story of how the meeting of three colours finally manages to bring together an unknown romance between an obsessed, in-denial Daphne Greengrass and an equally obsessed, and less in-denial, Harry Potter.



I'm not making any money off of this fanfiction, and the author owns all rights.


"I thought that I was dreamin' when you said you love me.

The start of nothin', I had no chance to prepare, I couldn't see you comin'..."


The class was dismissed, and students flowed out to the stairwell.

As Daphne Greengrass gathered her things for the next class, next to her, her best friend, Tracey Davis did the same, all while her mouth moved a mile a minute.

"—And then, he said, and you won't believe this,—" Tracey's brunette hair swished and swoshed as she talked excitedly. There was barely any time for her to breathe, yet she still somehow found a way to do it.

Perhaps she knew of circular breathing?

"Oh, I'm sure I will, Tracey." She responded, semi-listening to her friend spreading the recent rumours of a student who had been allegedly caught snogging a student from their house.

"He said… 'No, I just thought she was kind of cute, I didn't like her like that'." Tracey imitated an extremely dull, masculine voice that apparently had slop for brains based on the way she was mocking the boy's speech. Then her voice snapped back to normal, "I mean, honestly, if ya like her just say it, whydon'tcha? Why get embarrassed just because we're from different Houses?"

'Like', huh?

Well, Daphne wouldn't know anything about that. For the last four years in Hogwarts, people had come to regard her as some sort of 'untouchable ice-queen'. She had no idea how it'd started, but apparently, it earned her a rather frosty reputation. She supposed it didn't help that she was from Slytherin, which already had a pre-established bad rep.

She didn't see how that one was her fault. She had no interest in becoming, nor serving, the next Dark Lord. She had no beef with muggles. She was just good at studying and, if she wasn't up to it, even better at getting away with cheating on her tests. It was either Slytherin or Ravenclaw. And the hat had put her here instead.

Blue was definitely her colour. Matched her eyes.

Though she did like green a lot too.

It definitely did not help when she had somehow managed to earn the moniker of 'Ice Queen'. In the first year of school, no less. Girls would gossip about her. Boys feared her. But all would show respect outwardly regardless.

Seriously, how in the Seven Hells had that happened?

The last time a boy had actually approached her about romance was in her first year. He had been a year older than them, having reached out to her due to her heritage and looks apparently. The exchange she had with him had been pleasant regardless of the outcome. She definitely wasn't ready for a boyfriend at that age, and had turned him down respectfully. He seemed to have taken the rejection in stride.

So that couldn't possibly have been it.

Hm. Perhaps it was her perpetual narrow stare, and how her mouth found it natural to be a frown? Was it really that off-putting? She didn't think she was that unapproachable. After all, Tracey didn't have a problem striking up a conversation with her when they had initially met, and that was a month after she had earned that label. But then again, the brunette had no trouble making friends anywhere.

She had heard someone refer to her as having a 'resting bitch face' once.

That had kind of hurt.

She'd argue she probably looked more 'spacey' than anything.

I mean honestly! if she was as cold as she was rumoured to have been, would she have been best friends with a sunny, happy-go-lucky, chatterbox like Tracey?

As she stood from her seat, she caught sight of the boy who sat in front of her. He had already risen to his feet, and was deep in conversation with the gangly red-headed boy that he walked out of the row of seats with.

As he made it to the stairs, he noticed she was staring.

A pair of wide, yet sharp, green eyes set behind a pair of circular glasses greeted a pair of surprisingly soft blue ones; hidden behind narrow lids. It was only for a moment, but felt like it had been a whole minute. She broke contact and glanced elsewhere at the boy, giving him a once-over.

An 11-inch long holly and phoenix feather core wand sticking out of his side pocket, ready, willing, and able to be drawn and used at the first sign of trouble.

Rolled up sleeves revealing toned forearms, and a loose red-yellow-striped tie sitting unironed around his unbuttoned collar… and on a fairly broad chest.

Short, cropped black hair that had been tamed in recent months, with a slight fringe, barely covering the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

Ah, that scar…

She sighed internally as he returned his gaze back to the stairs, saying nothing. Instead, he began rapidly rising up the stairs in that tippy-tappy fashion that boys did whenever they had to climb stairs. The taller redhead lurched behind him ever so slightly with every step, significantly less graceful than Potter had been.

Indeed, Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass were, to say the least, pretty much strangers.

For the last four years, they had shared relatively the same classes with each other.

She'd sat behind him in Divinations, watching him and Weasley goof off in class, only to be told off by annoyed Granger, who still did her best to pay attention despite her shared distaste in the class with the boys. Prophecies and grand visions were definitely neither of their interests, clearly. And given his background, it was clear to see why.

She had stared at the back of his head, wondering just what made the boy who survived the Killing Curse from the worst Dark Lord their country had ever seen tick.

He'd sat behind her in Potions, harassed and hassled by their Potions Master, Severus Snape, over trivial matters that were obviously untrue. There were even a few times she had worried that whatever they were cooking in their cauldron at the time would have tipped over onto her based on how often things went wrong with their brews. She had listened in as they made fun of Snape under their breaths, snorting once in a while whenever they came up with something witty to say about the oily professor.

There were plenty of other classes they shared together too, but that was generally the main interaction she had with the boy.

Sure, they had interacted elsewhere too, but besides passing each other handouts in class, they had only come in close contact when they passed each other in the halls, neither one really making an effort to reach out to the other. She didn't think either of them had ever said the other's name out loud before. Well, she had, obviously. But those were in discussions with other members of her House about his special status.

The closest time he'd probably have said her name was when spring came, and he couldn't help but exclaim aloud the colour of the quidditch pitch's grass.

"That's some 'green grass', alright!" She'd have imagined him saying atop his broom. A stupid, silly grin slapped on his face.

Heavy emphasis on the 'green grass'.

Ugh, okay. That was lame. And a stretch — even by her standards.

She snorted in embarrassment at the thought.

But over the years, as she kept an eye on him, she had learned all his little patterns and habits. They were in the name of Slytherin House, of course. She'd naturally have to keep an eye out on him — for the sake of the house, of course!

Like how when he yawned, he'd like to twist his neck ever so slightly to the right to give it a crack. And if his neck popped, he'd stretch his back. If it didn't, he'd stretch his arms.

It was the little details that made a person who they were.

Or so she had claimed when she first realised the pattern. When she realised that it didn't really mean much, she shelved it away for future cross-reference with his other behaviourial patterns.

There were also definite tell-tale signs that he was up to no good. You'd have to catch a good glimpse of those pretty eyes of his though. Instead of looking shifty, they'd be twinkling with mischief. It reminded her very much like a naughty child who had just set up some sort of embarrassing trap for you to fall into and was simply waiting for you to walk through that door (that definitely didn't have a water bucket hovering over it).

Hah! And there it was. Absolute proof that her constant spying had paid off.

Indeed, it was the little details that made a person who they were.

And she'd even noticed how — when he had longer hair, for some odd reason the ends of it would start twirl upwards differently compared to the rest. But only a specific part of it on the right side! And when he had cut it back down to that short, cropped hair with the short fringe, he had looked like a completely different person! It definitely accentuated his strong facial features far more than the long hair had, and it was definitely his best look so far!

Indeed, this indicated... Uh...


...Okay, even she had to admit that that one didn't sound very convincing…

Oh, oh! And then there was that time, last year, in Divinations when Harry and the Weasley boy were mucking about when they had started discussing their interests in girls. Granger had left earlier, citing the need to be elsewhere. And thus, she had casually leaned into the conversation, listening into what kind of a woman the Boy-Who-Lived sought an interest in.

By the end of it, Daphne was feeling a little hot under her collar. Her blonde eyebrows had risen up and down hearing Harry express his interest in girls. Ultimately, what she could conclude from that conversation was that he liked girls that could fall under such categories that Daphne had noted down:

1) Play Quidditch

2) Pretty

3) Liked muggles

4) Had a 'fantastic bum'

While not necessarily the most detailed list, it had been the general summary of the conversation between the two Gryffindor boys. Daphne thought it was interesting to finally see what boys favoured in girls.

And — let it be known that it was just a coincidence that after she had overheard him say that, Daphne had approached a muggle-born Ravenclaw she knew, obtained muggle materials for exercises, and started learning how to do ones that helped ladies shape their bodies better.

More specifically on her butt.

Just a coincidence, mind you! She was minding her overall health and body's wellness anyway!

And so she had toiled, for weeks and months, doing core and leg exercises like that muggle lady in the magazines had, dutifully following instructions to add mass to certain parts of her body.

There were points when she wanted to give up, physically exhausted from all this work. But then she had noticed that Harry too was developing into quite an… well, for a lack of a better word, absolute stud. She had also noticed he was ending his meals earlier and had caught sight of him putting in work to build his body more than she'd like to admit. Even his studies had improved from when he had first entered the school.

And that was enough motivation for her to keep pushing through.

Then, at one point, she had wondered to herself… What was she doing all this for?

Was she becoming obsessive? Changing herself to fit into Potter's type?

Hah! What an absurd statement!

Nah, not possible.

…Hm …No.

It simply wasn't—

She couldn't possibly—

Thoughts of the boy filled her head nearly every day, even when she couldn't see him in person.

Ah, damn.

Eventually though, she did become self-aware enough to realize that only one of them had truly noticed the other in a different light.

To him, she was a stranger. Save for her name, he probably knew absolutely nothing about her.

To her, he was a friend. Maybe even more so. She knew every little detail about him.

Indeed. It was a one-sided affair. What had started out to Daphne as simply observing the actions of the legendary Boy-Who-Lived, had eventually turned into something of a small crush on the boy.

Okay, maybe not that small. But it was only a crush, right? That was all. Nothing more.

No, truly. There was nothing more than that. He was just eye candy to her.

So caught up in her thoughts, she hadn't even noticed that she had climbed the stairs on her own. Tracey was still behind her, talking about the situation with the intermingling students.

"—after all that was said and done, do ya know what she said? I bet ya already know, huh?" Tracey asked, to which Daphne snorted at as the pair began to shuffle out towards the stairwell around the corner.

"I highly doubt that." She cut her friend off, turning her head ever so slightly to shoot Tracey an amused smile on her plump pink lips.

As soon as she stepped towards the archway that led to the stairwell, she started to turn her head back, and found that someone had planted a sturdy wall in her way.



Pain filled her face as Daphne collapsed to the floor. Her notes spilled out of her hands, scattering all around her as she caught herself from falling too hard onto her bum.

"Oof!" Daphne felt the wind knocked right out of her as she landed.

It would do no good for Slytherins to be caught in such a compromising situation like this. Instinctively, she moved her hand to her face, immediately shifting towards the sore spot on her face and covering it like she was a leper.

Through a set of eyes that were quickly welling with tears from the impact her delicate nose had taken, she glared at the wall.

Well, or what she thought was a wall. Instead, there was a broad chest where she levelled her gaze. A broad chest where a loose red-yellow tie hung from.

"Watch your step, Potter!" Behind her, she could hear Tracey's voice, a mix of anger and concern for her friend. She could hear the distinct sound of paper scratching granite as her friend started to pick up her papers behind her.

"I didn't mean to!" Potter raised his hands defensively, worry clearly evident in his voice. Daphne still had her hand cupping her nose. Immediately, the perpetrator got down in a deep crouch, and was hurriedly picking up the scattered papers at his feet.

Harry was, by no means, a bodybuilder. But the countless hours he had sunk into Quidditch had left him with a body fitter than that of the average wizard his age. Which also included a body that was hard enough for her face to mistake as a wall, it seemed.

Daphne blinked the tears out of her eyes, and glanced at the boy in front of her. He still was awkwardly trying to apologise, while picking up her papers. Then he glanced up to her face to see what damage had been done.

Once again — green met blue.

This time — sparks immediately flew.

It was then Harry suddenly found that someone had cast some sort of tongue-twisting hex on him. It suddenly got rather difficult to talk. His apologies seemed to have dried up in his mouth, Instead, he was left stammering like that one professor they had at the start of Hogwarts (what had happened to that guy anyway?) that eventually vanished without a word.

The teenage boy was suddenly stuck between wanting to be respectful to her belongings and caring for her well-being, thus he continued to keep eye contact with her. For some reason, he seemed to have a difficult time looking away. All the while, he was failing to pick up the loose sheets of paper that he had knocked out of her arms just moments prior.

"Are you alright, Daph?" Tracey worriedly asked as she got to the front of her, joining Potter's side in inspecting her well-being. She checked Daphne's pale legs for scraped knees but found there to be none.

"I think I'm—" Daphne was about to say 'okay', moving her hand away from her nose, but the pair quickly gasped.

"Oh Merlin, y-your nose." Potter cringed at the sight, likely embarrassed at having hurt a girl.

Daphne's blue eyes glanced down, trying to get a good look at her nose, which was now glowing red like a certain reindeer in the muggle world's Winter Solstice story.

In hindsight, this had looked rather silly considering she went slightly crossed-eye in front of the boy she had a crush on.


Oh, dear. There was a lot of red.

The few crimson droplets that had fallen from her nose had dripped onto her collared white shirt and green tie, the bright vermillion seeping into the clothes and spreading out through the material ever so slightly. Stunned, the droplets continued to pour. She glanced to her hand and noticed it too was covered in some crimson too.

She must have looked like a mess.

Daphne quickly stomped out the feelings of embarrassment. With a quick gesture, she smeared the blood on her hand onto her skirt, the blood blending in with the darkly-coloured wool, and she quickly tilted her chin up to prevent any more blood from dripping onto her clothes.

From her head's tilted position, she rolled her eyes downwards to look at Harry.

"I'm so sorry… I was just coming back to take my… Argh, I absolutely didn't mean to do that…" The sincerity in his voice and face was genuine. This wasn't some petty attack on her being due to her being a Slytherin. He clearly regarded her far better than Malfoy, though that wasn't saying much. She couldn't imagine Malfoy fairing much better than she had.

"It's quite alright, it doesn't hurt—" Daphne immediately pinched the bridge of it to stem the flow of blood. She jerked up momentarily upon feeling the sharp jab of pain shoot through the bridge at the slightest touch.


He had managed to scoop up the rest of her papers, quickly jostling them together until they were uniform again before setting them aside. He glanced back to her, his eyes filled with guilt behind those glasses. Even with the pain kicking in now, she couldn't help but appreciate how handsome he looked with concern on his face.

Ooh, and that jaw…

Boy, was he pretty.

Still pinching her nose, the pain was quickly forgotten as she took in his features.

Unaware of Daphne's thoughts, Harry had already drawn his wand.

"Here, let me cast a quick 'Episkey' for you." Harry offered, "Let me help fi-"

Suddenly, like a wand casting Lumos, a bright light lit up in her head.

Ho? An opportunity? She'd be rather un-Slytherin-like if she didn't take turn the situation to her advantage, no?

"No!" Harry nearly jumped at her sudden proclamation. Her free hand was now stuck out to stop him. "No spells please." He didn't look insulted. Instead, like an inquisitive dog, he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly in fret and confusion.

Damn. He looked so cute! Yup. That settled it. There was no possible chance on Earth that she'd let this opportunity pass by.

"No offense, but I don't really trust you to—" Daphne had quietly mumbled, her cheeks growing rosy. Neither Harry nor Tracey could see, due to the awkward angle she held her face at.

"Alright, then let me—" Tracy whipped out her wand, now pointing it at Daphne.

"—trust anyone to cast anything on my face." Daphne immediately corrected herself, lowering her face back to normal. The blood seemed to have slowed in flowing out, but was still very red, and was definitely not as straight as it had once been.

Tracey cocked a brow but said nothing, lowering her wand.

"The infirmary would be preferred," Daphne clarified, shifting her weight and rising slightly so that she was now kneeling instead of sitting down. "Let the professionals do their job." Harry shrugged, accepting the reasoning.

"Alright then, let me get you to the infirmary… Least I could do. It's not too far from here."

Without waiting for a response, Harry spun around, turning his back to her and with a deft motion, reached behind himself. He immediately hooked his thick forearms through the back of her knees and with a quiet 'hup!', lifted her up off the ground with near zero effort. It was like she weighed little to nothing to him.

All this was all faster than she could react to.

This elicited a shrill 'eep!' from the girl, for which Harry earned himself a quick, admonishing slap to the back of the head from the girl he was now carrying on his back. He barely registered it.

"Some warning would be nice, Potter." Daphne mock-scowled at the back of the boy's head.

"Oi! Watch ya hands, Potter!" Tracey had griped, staring intently at the boy's hands being so close to her best friend's bum. He had better not be trying to pull a fast one here. The last thing she wanted to do was cast a stinging hex on Potter's hand when it was so close to her friend's rear.

"Bad habit, sorry." He shot her a toothy-grin at that, apologising once more, "In my experience, it's a lot easier to ask for forgiveness than permission."

"I'll get your stuff back to the rooms, Daph." Tracey told Daphne from the side, pocketing her friend's loose belongings into her bag, "I'm guessing this will probably take a while to fix. I'll let Professor Flitwick know you can't make it to Charms either."

"Thanks, Trace," She smiled at her trusty friend, "I hope it doesn't take too long either."

That was a lie. Imaginary hands had their fingers crossed.

She hoped this would last. Nay. She prayed.

Uh oh. Tracey gave her a look as if she knew what she was thinking. Then the Davis girl smirked and slapped Daphne on her bum lightly, as if she were the horse in this situation. Daphne gave her an annoyed look at that.

"Alright, the Queen's secure, Potter. You'd best take care of her on the way there, y'hear?" She threatened, narrowing her eyes at Harry ever so slightly to get her point across. It would do Harry no favors to earn the scorn of those few Slytherins that didn't already have an issue with his existence.

"Indeed. I think a broken nose is the least of my problems for today if you drop me down the stairwell too." Daphne said with some humour in her voice, somehow finding some humour in this situation, "Now get going, my noble steed."

Like you would a horse, Daphne playfully drove the imaginary spurs from her heels into Harry's waist, urging him forward.

At this, Harry managed a chuckle as he began to head out of the classroom with Daphne held securely on his back, neighing to play along with her joke.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad day after all.


Chapter 1: End


Important A/N:

Hello, dear reader, and thank you for making it this far.

This is the first time I'm writing a HP fanfiction if you couldn't already tell. This account is actually an alternate I created many, many years ago to publish other stories. But I ended up deleting both my main and the stories on here, though I've never actually published a HP fanfic, so this is a first for me.

It should also be important to make clear that I've never actually finished ANY form of the HP series, be it books or movies. I've never really made it past THBP, but I have a rough understanding of the general story past that point, and I've read plenty of HP fanfics (though I understand that they are not reliable sources of information. I'm aware plenty of authors make stuff up). That's about it for my lack of general knowledge of this series.

So please bear with me if you notice any plotholes in this silly little story.

Orrrr... feel free to make fun of me in the reviews. I understand how silly it is (and think it's quite funny) that I'm consuming so much fanfiction of a series that I've never finished.


Less Important A/N:

I'm not expecting this story to be very long at all. Perhaps just a handful of fluffy chapters of two characters enjoying each other's company and flirting. Maybe less.

I just want to prove that I could finish a story I started.

Anyway, if you were curious, this story came about because I was browsing r/hpfanfics and saw complaints of Haphne fics (they had a fair argument, though I do enjoy the cliches and corniness of it), and another suggesting a spin on things where Daphne's the one that's obsessed with Harry.

So I was bored, and since I hadn't written fanfics in many, many years, I decided to just fire up a story because I wanted to give writing fanfics another go.

I'm also well aware that Daphne is very non-existent (even more so Tracey Davis) in the actual story, and that many people have created an 'Ice Queen' persona that's commonly adopted for her character. I have no issues with that. I enjoy reading all takes. I just wanted to portray her in a more ordinary type of personality.

In any case, I hope you've found some entertainment in this first chapter. There should be another out sometime soon in the future (hopefully).

That's all for now.