A/N: So, this is my first published story in ages. Plot bunnies, I hate you with a burning, fiery passion.

Disclaimer: Is this really necessary anymore? Whatever. I do not own Harry Potter and if you recognize a character/place I probably did not create them/it.

July 31, 1997

The Silver Prince and the Ice Queen of Slytherin. Sounds like a match made in heaven-or hell, depending on your point of view- doesn't it? Apparently my parents thought so. I couldn't disagree more. The day I let the blonde ponce touch me is the day Potter becomes Voldemort's lover.

Again, not going to happen.

I wonder how my parents had come to the conclusion that us even being in the same room together is a good idea. Things tend to explode rather violently if we are in the same room. Hence the reason the ferret is never in the common room. That's my room, thank you.

Considering that, whoever you are, you were probably a Gryffindor, let me explain. We Slytherins must present a united front to the other houses. We are the only ones willing to stand up for ourselves: it's Slytherin versus the world, after all. Away from the eyes of the other houses, however, is a world of infighting. Betrayals and the like are daily occurrences in our house. Many of us move on to become politicians, so many treat this as a training ground. There is a reason every Minister since 1924 other than Fudgie was a Slytherin.

I rose to the top of the House through a combination of brains, the already mentioned backstabbing and a solid group of friends. But, you might be saying, how do you know that they're your friends? Magical oaths people, magical oaths. In third year, when I began my ascent, we each swore a magical oath to never betray the others.

Malfoy? He decided to take the easy way to the top, using his father's power both within the Ministry and within Voldemort's inner circle to threaten other people. My friends and I were the only ones to not bow to his wishes. He's a disgrace of a Slytherin. He has no brains, no power of his own. I am going to enjoy the day when daddy dies and Malfoy realizes he has no clue about anything.

But I digress. The point is that my parents have decided that they are going to marry me off to Malfoy and I need to find a way to stop them.

September 1, 1997

As the muggles say, no dice. My parents have moved into the first stage of negotiations, forcing me to meet with Malfoy twice. The first time, he ran out of the room about two minutes after he walked in, hair on fire. The second time, he didn't even last a minute before the vase behind him exploded and propelled hundreds of ceramic shards into his back. Why my parents are still trying to get us married is beyond me.

I guess I should be thankful. I mean, Malfoy already had a contract with the Parkinson, so that delayed the process to where I could escape some of it at school. The Malfoys had to inform the Parkinsons that they were pulling out of the contract, as well as provide the family with hefty compensation. I heard that Parkinson's father was actually rather pleased. Parkinson herself was bitching and whining and blaming the whole thing on me. As if. I'd had to hex the bitch to get her to listen to me.

Normally, families would not even think about considering backing out of a marriage contract. With all the fees involved–compensation to the other family and fees that Gringotts and the Ministry demanded for the process-the amount of money that the family would lose is well over two hundred thousand galleons, no small amount. With the Malfoy family, I estimated that that would be about a tenth of their estate.

It didn't particularly matter. My family is one of the few families in Britain richer than the Malfoys, the others being the Blacks, the Potters and the Davis'. We also wield considerable force in the Wizengamot, holding four seats, compared to the Malfoy's two. All of this would be transferred to Malfoy when my father died. Idiotic sexist society. Combined with the fact that I am infinitely more beautiful than the pug, the Malfoys were quite eager to accept my parent's offer.

Again, I think my parents had gone crazy. The only reason to marry me to Malfoy that I could see was political. This move would declare them as supporters of the dark families, and by extension, Lord Voldemort. Traditionally, my family was neutral, leaning towards the dark side magic-wise, but never believing in or supporting any of the so called Dark Lords. No longer, apparently.

I sat contemplating this in one of the last compartments on the Hogwarts Express, waiting for the train to leave and my friends to arrive. I always arrived early so I could grab my choice of compartment and avoid the rush. It was also a good opportunity to observe the other students. Summer wrought many changes.

The first student of note to arrive was Longbottom. Yes, Longbottom. The quietest Gryffindor was quite the force in the Wizengamot now that he was of age. And while he hadn't shown much potential in classes, I believe that was more a case of low self-esteem than low magical power. He had gone through a late growth spurt over the summer and was now as tall as his towering grandmother and was quite muscular. He sure looked more confident, so maybe he would do better in class this year.

The next notable student was Malfoy. Blegh. He looked much the same as ever, except for the rather depressed look on his face. Oh, right. His Death Eater father had been locked up again soon after my second "meeting" with Malfoy. Unfortunately, this would have no effect on the negotiations. It would, however, have an effect on his standing in the house, because he gained it through his father's influence.

A long period passed between Malfoy and the next students that I would pay attention too. They were Weasley and Granger. Oddly enough, the Gryffindor Golden Boy did not appear to be with them. They kept glancing around the platform, probably looking around for Potter, and they stayed close to the entrance to the platform. Their faces fell with each passing minute and I came to the assumption that the Golden Trio had had a bit of a falling out.

Susan Bones arrived with her Aunt, the one and only Amelia Bones. Like Longbottom, she had inherited several seats in the Wizengamot over the summer. So had Terry Boot, who arrived soon after.

And then, five minutes before the train was scheduled to leave, Potter arrived. He had changed drastically. He had undergone quite the growth spurt and had filled out, making him look more like an athlete than the malnourished midget he was before. His hair had been tamed slightly so that the wildness looked intentional rather than accidental and he had gotten rid of those horrendous glasses of his, unleashing those gorgeous emerald eyes. What? They are.

Anyways.

Frankly, he finally looked the part of the Lord he was. Well, would have if it weren't for the clothes he was wearing. He had lost the worn out, baggy clothes of previous years and instead wore a muggle t-shirt, a leather jacket, dark blue jeans and muggle skate shoes. And, let me say, he looked good.

What, a girl can't check guys out once in a while? Jeez.

As soon as he arrived, he was accosted by Weasley and Granger. He spoke a few words to them, harsh ones by the looks of it, then strode past them towards the train. The looks on the pair's faces were priceless. They rushed after him and the Weasel grabbed his shoulder. Potter whirled, but didn't say anything. The pair just seemed to shrink and stood still as he turned and headed towards the train. I got a glimpse of the look on his face as he turned back to the train and I saw what made Weasley and Granger stop. His eyes were flashing dangerously, hinting at barely restrained power and his lips were lifted in an animalistic snarl. However, he quickly schooled his features and boarded the train.

About a minute later, my friends entered the platform, almost late, as usual. They were never in any real hurry to get anywhere, walking calmly through the chaos of everyone else on the platform panicking. Before I could watch them board the train, however, I heard the compartment door slide open. Turning, I saw the ferrety face of Malfoy and the hulking figures of his boyfriends.

"Malfoy," I said coldly, "What are you doing?"

"Sitting with my betrothed," he replied, "What does it look like?"

He moved to sit down next to me, but I pulled my wand out and pointed it at him.

"Not going to happen. Sorry," I said. He looked at my wand fearfully, and rightly so.

"We are going to be married, you know," he said. "You might as well get used to it."

"Not if I can help it," I said. "Get out."

"You know, I don't think I-" His sentence was cut off by the jet of light that hit him, turning him into the infamous bouncing ferret. I turned my wand on Dumb and Dumber, but realized I had overestimated the size of the compartment. As soon as I had cursed Malfoy, Crabbe had shuffled the two steps from the door to my seat. He backhanded me harshly, sending my head crashing into the wall behind me. The impact had me seeing stars and I was sure I now had a concussion. It also released Malfoy from his true form, and he scrambled to his feet, wand out. With a flick of his wrist, ropes sprung around my wrists, tying them to the bench.

"You know, I wasn't going to do this," he said, "But I might as well now that you've cursed me."

He began unbuckling his pants and I realized what he was planning to do. I began thrashing around, but my ankles were tied to the bench much like my wrists, so I did little more than flop pathetically. I tried screaming, but I realized he had also put up a silencing ward.

Fuck.

Suddenly, I heard two large thumps and Malfoy looked up fearfully. He was pulled off of me by someone and I felt the ropes around my wrists and ankles disappear. Looking up, I saw that my savior was none other than Potter. He had the same look on his face that I saw earlier, all animalistic fury and raw power. He was pointing a muggle gun at Malfoy, while Crabbe and Goyle lay unconscious at his feet. Malfoy looked like he was about to shit his partially unbuckled pants, although I doubt he knew what a gun was.

"Do you know what this is, Ferret?"

Malfoy shook his head fearfully.

"It's a gun," Potter said, "Muggle invention. Makes it easier to kill people. The muggles are rather good at that. Would you like a demonstration?"

Malfoy shook his head fearfully.

"Of course you wouldn't. Well, I think I'll give you one anyways. You. Are. Scum. I am only letting you off this easy once. Next time you die."

Malfoy whitened and then there was an extremely loud crack. Rubbing my abused head, I looked over at the ferret. He was clutching his right shoulder where Potter had shot him, blood seeping in between his fingers. He had fainted from the shock.

Potter waved his hand and a piece of paper appeared. He stuck the paper to Malfoys forehead and I saw that it read "rapist." Another wave of his hand and Malfoy, along with Crabbe and Goyle, disappeared.

"Where'd you send them?" I asked.

"Hogwarts," he said. "You alright there Greengrass?"

"Shaken," I said, "But otherwise fine."

He nodded. "Your lip's bleeding," he observed.

I rubbed a hand over my mouth. Indeed it was. I was about to respond when suddenly, Potter stepped forward and crushed his lips to mine.

Well, this was definitely an unexpected turn of events. Not entirely unwelcome even though Potter was the Gryffindor Golden Boy. He had become rather good looking. Quite a good kisser as well.

I don't know how long we snogged, but we were eventually interrupted by the compartment door sliding open and several shocked gasps. We broke apart and I blushed slightly as I realized where our hands were. I had one hand on the back of his head and the other on the small of his back while Potter, teenage boy that he is, had both of his hands on my ass.

"Moving quite fast aren't we, Potter?" I muttered. It was true. We had spoken maybe twice before today.

"I don't know what you mean," he replied with a smirk, snaking an arm around my waist as we turned to face the newcomers.

Gods above, why did my friends choose this moment to arrive?

"Potter, what do you think you're doing?" That was Tracey. She marched up to Potter and jabbed him in the chest with a finger. It was quite funny, really. Tracey, all five foot four of her, threatening the six foot hunk of lean, sexy muscle… I mean, Potter.

Potter just grinned that crooked grin of his and said, "Unless I'm mistaken, I was kissing this beautiful young lady here. Problem, Davis?"

"I'd say so, yes," replied Tracey. "Get your hands off of Daphne!"

Potter's grin turned into a smirk and he pulled me closer to him. I decided to save him before Tracey decided to pull her wand on him. Actually, I was probably saving her. Who knows what Potter was capable of anymore. I wrapped an arm around him and said, "Who says I want him to?"

That would earn me a shouting match later. Whatever. Well worth it if it meant no one killed each other.

Tracey turned her eyes on me and opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Blaise spoke up.

"Any chance of getting inside the compartment anytime soon?" he asked. "We don't need anyone else to see you two."

Politically minded bastard. Well, he was probably right. Potter seemed to realize his point as well, as he sat down and pulled me into the seat next to him. Tracey sat down across from us and Blaise and Sophia entered the compartment.

As soon as Sophia slid the door closed, Tracey began casting several privacy charms. When she was done, Potter added a few with a wave of his hand. That's something I need to remember to ask him about. Wandless magic is a very rare skill and it is practically unheard of to have the amount of control that Potter apparently had.

"Something wrong with your eyes Potter?" Sophia asked after she sat down.

I looked over at him. His eyes were… pulsing would be the word for it, I guess. They would switch back and forth between normal and practically glowing every few seconds. It was a bit mesmerizing. I spent more time staring at them than I'm comfortable admitting.

"I'm a bit… hyped up, you could say," he said. I wondered if his face had frozen into that crooked grin.

"Hmmmm," mumbled Sophia. "Daph, is that a cut on your lip?"

"Yup," I said.

"What happened?" she asked. "Potter didn't do anything did he?" She glared at Potter.

"No, no, no, it was Crabbe," I started, then explained the whole thing to them.

I had forgotten to tell them that my parents were planning to marry me off to Malfoy. That shocked my friends, but Potter's eyes turned icy and he wrapped an arm around me.

I wondered what you would call what we had going on between us. It wasn't a relationship, definitely. I guess it was mutual lust. Potter was hot and goddamn powerful, if what I've seen so far today is any indication. I don't know what he thought about me- I knew I was no slouch in the looks department- but he was the one who started it.

Suddenly, I had an epiphany. Potter could be my ticket out of the contract with Malfoy. My parents would gain an extreme amount of political power, so they would be happy. I would probably be happy, and if Potter wasn't happy then he could suck it. Metaphorically of course.

"What's up Daph?" asked Tracey. "You look like you've just seen Merlin."

"Nothing, Trace, nothing. Just thinking."

She gave me look that said she would make me tell her later. I was going to anyways.

There was a knock on the compartment door. I was inclined to leave it, being extremely comfortable leaning up against Potter. I knew Blaise would at least want to see who it was. However, before he could get up and check, Potter announced, "Its Neville." He raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged. Whether or not Longbottom sat here, I didn't care.

With a wave of his hand the compartment door slid open and Longbottom walked in. He looked at Potter and me, raised an eyebrow and turned to observe Blaise, Tracey and Sophia.

"I didn't know you two were so close," he said, turning back to Potter.

"Shows how much you know, Nev," said Potter. "Sit."

Longbottom sat next to Tracey across from Potter as Potter redid his privacy charms. I saw Tracey look speculatively at Longbottom and I had to stifle a chuckle. Now I had a way to silence her protests about Potter and I.

The rest of the train ride passed in relative companionship. Blaise and Sophia were neutral towards Potter while Tracey held on to her aggressive stance on all things Golden Boy. Bit hypocritical really, as she was flirting with Longbottom. I actually fell asleep leaning on Potter, not that I would ever admit that.

The train stopped and Potter and I reluctantly separated. We would need to keep… it, whatever it was, secret. Potter chatted with Longbottom a few feet in front of my friends and me as we headed towards the carriages. He kept sneaking glances back towards me, when he thought I wasn't paying attention. I was. To his rather nice ass. So I noticed every time he turned, rather disappointedly.

Sadly, we eventually reached the carriages and Potter and Longbottom boarded one. I had hoped that he and I would be able to take the same carriage, but there were other people around. It was probably a good thing too, as who knew what we would be doing if left alone for the ride up to the castle. My friends and I boarded the next carriage and the conversation turned to the ever changing Defense against the Dark Arts professor. Who knew who it would be.

Another year at Hogwarts, another speech by Dumbledore. Forbidden Forest is out of bounds blah blah blah. As usual, I ignored it, instead scanning the staff table. First thing I noticed was that Snape was not present. Interesting. In a way I was glad. Sure, he favored us over every other House, but that only hurt us in the long run. Greasy git.

So, there were two new teachers, one male, one female. They sat next to each other, conversing quietly. They must know each other. They both were quite young, maybe late twenties at the oldest, and very good looking. Also, they both wore muggle clothing which was quite the contrast to the other teachers.

Sophia poked me and I turned my attention back to Dumbledore. He was introducing the new teachers.

"… and we are happy to have Professor Sullivan to replace him."

That was the woman. She nodded once, acknowledging the students, then returned to her conversation with the other new teacher.

"And, replacing Professor Murray as your Defense against the Dark Arts teacher is Professor Reynolds."

Like the woman, the man just nodded in acknowledgement. So. Not much could be learned about either professor at the moment. Damn.

I glanced over my shoulder at the Gryffindor table, looking for Potter. I found him sitting next to Longbottom, Thomas and Finnegan on the opposite end of the table from Weasley and Granger. He was talking with them absentmindedly as he stared at something a few feet below my head… oh. Well, turnabout is fair play, I guess. I didn't particularly mind him staring at me anyways. As long as it wasn't bloody Malfoy.

Scratch that, I didn't want anybody but Potter staring at my ass.