A/n: Again thank you all for the faves and follows! (We got over 100 reviews!) I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to each review individually, but I still love hearing from all you guys what you hear and think, and if there is anything you'd like to see in the future or mentioned, never hesitate to mention because it might just come up in the story.

As always, special thanks to my wonderful beta (dinadan256) for proof-reading and helping me to bounce ideas on. :)

Prompt: Ground-breaking (#259)

Chapter 10

"How is she doing?" Hermione asked when Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room that evening.

Harry didn't immediately reply as he sank into the couch next to the armchair where Hermione was seated reading a book. He was still lost in thought about his parting with Tracey Davis, who he got caught up talking to for a good half hour.

When he'd mentioned that it was getting late and that her friends were probably tired of waiting, Harry had attempted to apologize for Ron's behavior.

"He's not normally like that... he was just really not handling the pressure well... and I know that I shouldn't make excuses," Harry had struggled, scratching the back of his neck even as his stomach had burned with shame and anger at Ron for what he had done.

"You don't have to apologize, Harry," Tracey had interrupted, waving her hand and offering him a small smile. Harry had looked up startled, as he wasn't sure he'd ever heard her call him by his first name until then, and the familiarity was strangely, no unwelcome. "If it were real combat, I should have never turned my back to an unfriendly; and in a life and death situation, if a cheap shot would save your skin, then you take it. As it is... I understand that his anger got the better of him and considering it was a tripping jinx, I know he meant to embarrass and not hurt me. If I had reacted as fast as I should have, I would have caught myself on my hands and the injury wouldn't have been anything more than scraped hands and knees.

"I'm just too slow," she ended with a shrug and gave him a bashful and even embarrassed smile. "It's why I could never be an Auror, my reflexes are rubbish."

And though everything she said made sense, and though she sounded so damn logical, Harry still felt a weight in his stomach. It still simply felt so wrong to him. And Tracey wasn't helping by being so damn... nice about it.

Nice... Tracey really was a nice girl, Harry had to acknowledge. And once he forgot what House she was in, he found that she was really easy to talk to.

"She's fine," Harry said with a sigh, not sure how much he should reveal about her injuries. He rather had a feeling that Tracey would not want the extent of her injuries known. He certainly wouldn't want everyone to know if it was him. "Madam Pomfrey quickly fixed the cut on her chin, so other then being a bit banged up and sore, she's good."

Hermione nodded, and belatedly, Harry noticed that Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan had edged closer to them.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked as he surveyed the common room that was empty except for a few fourth years by the windows. At that moment, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown emerged from the dorm staircase and wandered over to where the others were seated before the fire. Ron was nowhere to be found.

"Holed up in your dorm," George piped in from where he suddenly appeared behind Harry, causing Harry to jump.

"Yeah, the slick little git!" Fred complained, just as he dropped onto the seat at the end of the couch where Harry was sitting, jumping over the back to do so. George followed not a moment later, though he instead chose to sit on the back of the couch with his feet planted next to Harry.

"But he's not going to get away that easy," George stated, "You can count on that."

"Jinxing a girl-" Fred went on with a shake of his head as he crossed his arms.

"When her back is turned no less!" George interrupted.

"And what does Tracey being a girl have anything to do with it?" Hermione asked sharply, bristling from where she was seated, partially closing the book in her lap to fix all the boys with a glare.

"Well it's just not done. It's like hitting a girl... men shouldn't hit women," Dean stated as if that was obvious, and Harry couldn't help agreeing that it was wrong to attack someone who was much smaller and... looked so delicate.

Hermione pierced Dean with a steely look. Apparently, his opinion was not shared and Harry tried not to shrink or look guilty.

"Well... maybe not muggles. But witches aren't the same... we can look after ourselves," Ginny stated in placating but still stern tones, as she wandered over, having apparently come into the common room and overheard the discussion. She dropped herself on the arm of Hermione's chair and Harry frowned.

"Isn't it the same?" Harry found himself asking in confusion.

"No!" Hermione snapped, rounding on Harry now who tried not to flinch. "A typical muggle woman, in a physical altercation, can't match a man's strength. But witches, are more than capable of taking down a wizard. It's not the same thing! I mean... in a duel between Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, do you think Professor McGonagall wouldn't hold her own just because she's a woman?"

Harry had to give Hermione that one. No, he did not think Professor McGonagall any less capable because she was a woman, or even because of her age. Professor McGonagall was a force to be reckoned with to be sure.

And Tracey, though small, wasn't weak. Intellectually, Harry knew this. But still, he couldn't help feeling it was wrong.

"But they weren't dueling," Parvati pipped in as she stepped closer to the group, along with Lavender Brown. "They were arguing, and then when Tracey was walking away, Ron attacked her."

"I know that!" Hermione retorted coldly. "I'm not making excuses for what Ron did. I'm just saying that the fact that Tracey is a girl, doesn't matter."

"I don't know, but a gentlemen wouldn't do that," Lavender stated, brushing blonde hair off her shoulder.

Hermione gave Lavender a look which plainly stated, Yes, YOU would think that, before rolling her eyes.

For Harrys' part, he was torn. He felt uncomfortable knowing that a part of him actually agreed with Lavender but told himself that it was just because he found the entire incident dishonorable. Though Tracey was a Slytherin, she wasn't responsible for the behavior of the rest of her housemates or the tactics they employed to win a Quidditch match.

Ron shouldn't have said all those things to her, or even her friends, much less cast a jinx, no matter how harmless, when she walked away.

Whatever Tracey might say, no matter what Hermione said, and even though he knew that Ron wasn't thinking straight and would never do that if he were... the fact was that Tracey was injured when she shouldn't have been. That wasn't right.

xXx

The tripping jinx incident had, somehow, garnered the Slytherin trio a certain amount of goodwill amongst the DA. Something Tracey was quite thankful for. Tracey was even surprised to find the Weasley twins approaching her to apologize for Ron, all the while insisting that they were not related.

This served, to an extent, to pacify both Daphne and Blaise; though it took rather a bit of work on Tracey's part to dissuade Blaise from going to Professor Snape and reporting Ron in order to get the red-head banned from playing.

Though, Tracey was not vindictive in the least, she managed to convince Blaise that if he truly wanted Ron to suffer, then allowing him to play was really the best sort of punishment. This seemed to appeal to Blaise, only minimally. Though, the look on his face told her that if he couldn't get Ron in trouble, then he had something else in mind and Tracey had to extract a promise from Blaise that he would not get Ron banned from Quidditch, or have him suspended, expelled and etc.

She felt a little more at ease when Blaise promised to do nothing of the sort, as she knew that Blaise would never lie to her, or make a promise to her that he had no intention of keeping. Strangely enough, Blaise tended to be true to his word.

However, Tracey wasn't all too sure what Blaise planned, she just knew that it would likely be ugly. But she felt that she had done all she could, and would simply have to trust Blaise's judgement.

Unfortunately, there was only one more DA meeting after that, as the Gryffindors became increasingly busy with their team practices as the Gryffindor versus Slytherin game was to take place on the first Saturday of November.

As it was, Tracey was surprised one evening when she called over by Blaise in the Common Room.

"Draco and Pansy fancy themselves composers," he stated to her in low and dry tones when she wandered over to where he was sitting before the fire on one of the high-backed chairs.

Tracey raised a brow as she looked over where Pansy was knelt at the coffee table before the fire, sitting in front of Draco who was draped over the long black chesterfield. Tracey stared questioningly from beside Blaise's chair at the pair, who were surrounded by their usual sycophants.

Tracey marched closer to the table, casting her shadow over the sheets of parchment on which she saw "Weasley is our king" written in Pansy's overly curly and girly handwriting.

Raising a brow, Tracey attempted to read the parchment upside down and found herself frowning.

"If you don't mind moving, you're in my light," Pansy stated to her with a very cool and stiff air. Tracey looked at the girl's dark brown eyes, completely unimpressed with the usually simpering voice, as Pansy turned up her already upturned nose even more.

"What are you writing?" Tracey asked, as she'd only read one verse of what appeared to be some kind of chant.

"Oh, it's a special song we're writing for Weasel, for the match," Draco replied, not having to clarify what match as it seemed all the school could talk about, from where he was seated.

Crabbe and Goyle both standing behind him, were smirking rather stupidly at that.

Ever the sentinels, those two... it was all they were good for, Tracey thought wryly as she stared at the two bulging masses.

Honestly, she was surprised that a broom could even carry Crabbe and Goyle. And Tracey had no idea how they managed to make it onto the Quidditch team this year.

"Read it to Davis, Pansy. I'm sure she'll get a kick out of it, even if she is the jumped-up daughter of a blood-traitor and a mudblood," Draco called imperiously, while his grey eyes glinted maliciously at Tracey.

However, if Draco wished for his words to have any kind of effect on Tracey, he was sorely disappointed. Tracey had gotten uesd to ignore these kinds of comments, especially when they came from the likes of Draco or Pansy, they had completely lost all meaning. Tracey just didn't care what Draco or Pansy thought, much less Crabbe and Goyle- if they were even capable of thought that is.

Pansy glared at Tracey jealously, though her expression was hidden from Malfoy. Dutifully, however, the dark-haired girl picked up the parchment and cleared her throat and began to read.

As Tracey listened to the rather uninspired and insipid verses, she found herself quite embarrassed by the song that her house-mates came up with; couldn't they come up with anything more clever, she wondered as she turned to exchange a look with a smirking Blaise.

Tracey knew that Blaise, like her, was not impressed by Pansy or Blaise's skills; but unlike Tracey, he was taking pleasure at how stupid both Pansy and Draco were.

"Brilliant," Tracey stated sarcastically, though her reply was of no consequence to Draco who wasn't even listening but instead had turned his head to watch Daphne come into the common room from the girl's dorm, his grey eyes lingering on the pretty blonde while Pansy glared at Tracey, completely unaware.

Tracey's hand twitched at her side, wishing she could pull out her wand and hex Malfoy's eyes out of his head, or better yet, castrate the boy for ogling her best friend so blatantly. She didn't want those malicious, grey eyes anywhere near her friend.

It almost made her feel bad for Pansy, who was genuinely devoted to Draco, whom she doted on and treated as if he were kind prince when the boy did not deserve an ounce it.

Though Pansy was a spoilt, loud-mouthed, ignoramus, she still deserved better. But try to convince her of that.

"Well, you wouldn't think so, but I suppose you must have sympathies for him. You're practically in the same position, even if your blood is much dirtier than Weasley's. At least both his parents are purebloods," Pansy sniffed rather snottily, before allowing her eyes to take a triumphant gleam.

Tracey didn't have that kind of patience in her, so she had written Pansy of as a lost cause.

Before Tracey could offer a retort, she was saved the trouble by an unexpected source.

"Tracey is a Slytherin, she hasn't got anything to prove. And unlike Weasley or you, she's brilliant. Besides, she's right. Your chant is stupid."

Tracey didn't need to turn, to know who'd spoken, she knew that quiet and serene tenor anywhere. Immediately, she felt her heart skip a beat as it accelerated. It twittered stupidly at the fact that he'd bother to come to her defense, and furthermore, had called her brilliant.

Like Snape, Theodore didn't have to raise his voice to be heard, even though he spoke so rarely; perhaps it was because he spoke so rarely; people simply assumed that if he was speaking, what he had to say was likely very important.

But she did turn nonetheless, and watched as Theodore's exceedingly tall and slender form emerge from one of the other high-backed chairs and moved so that he was standing next to Tracey. Besides Theodore, Tracey who was already a short girl, was dwarfed. At her five foot three, Theodore's lofty 6 feet made him tower high over her, in spite of his slouching.

Draco's expression was one that was exceedingly sour, but the platinum blonde said nothing and merely chose to stew while Blaise tried to hide his increasing amusement.

Pansy opened her mouth and retorted something nasty, but Tracey wasn't listening. Instead she was looking up at Theodore almost shyly.

"I'm not brilliant," Tracey mumbled, at least when compared to a genius like Theodore.

However, Theodore wasn't listening to her. Instead he was angling his head to the side and gazing at her face with extreme focus. Tracey felt herself flushing as his dark grey eyes roved over her face, making it heat further.

"What happened here?" Theodore asked in his quiet voice, his icy fingers reaching out and lightly skimming her chin, his index finger tracing the almost invisible scar on her chin.

Tracey didn't know if she could get any warmer. She felt the flush now in her ears, in her neck and even at the top of her chest. Goosebumps raised on her skin at his soft, but cold touch and as Tracey's gaze moved up to Theodore's eyes which were now looking into hers with concern, she had the strange urge to throw herself at the exceedingly tall boy.

"I fell," Tracey blurted, trying to stifle the urge she had to wrap herself around the lanky boy with mousy-brown hair. She wanted to bury her fingers in the silky, straight stands... she wanted to bruise his pale pink lips and she wanted to place kisses on the purple half-moons that were permanently beneath his eyes.

Tracey mentally groaned, wondering why she was such a mess where Theodore was concerned. She wished she could bury her head in a tub of icy water.

"-down the stairs, it was stupid... part of my foot got stuck on one of those trick steps as I was coming down and I hit my chin on the banister," Tracey went on when she noticed his skeptical look, even as his fingers continued to linger on her chin.

A clearing of a throat behind them, made Tracey feel her stomach twist in embarrassment as she remembered that they were practically in the center of the common room.

"You should be more careful, Tracey," Theodore said with a worried frown, retracting his hand.

Tracey merely smiled, even as she felt Daphne grab her arm. "Come on Trace, we're going to be late."

Tracey nodded dumbly and allowed Daphne to drag her away, all the while waving goodbye to Theo and thanked him for his concern.

As they stepped out into the hall, Tracey groaned aloud.

"Why do I become such an idiot when he touches or compliments me?" Tracey whined, putting her face in her hands as her cheeks continued to burn with mortification, even as her stomach squirmed and she felt slightly disappointed that Daphne had dragged her away, even if she was saving Tracey from herself.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I don't know, it's a mystery," she replied dryly, causing Tracey to bump into her purposefully, even as she giggled.

xXx

Even with Tracey's warning on Halloween (a note discreetly and cleverly sent to him during Potions before the match), Harry didn't know how to prepare for Slytherin's demoralizing chant, aimed towards Ron. Considering he'd been having a hard time talking to his friend lately, without letting his annoyance with him show, there was really nothing Harry could have done.

"Gryffindor lost?" Tracey asked, sounding surprised after she'd asked him how the match had gone. A frown came over her features where she sat next to him on a log on the grounds, fallen near the Forbidden Forrest. "I thought your team won, from the way Malfoy and the team have been acting in Slytherin."

Harry snorted at this, thinking that Malfoy would be acting as if Slytherin had won. However, he instead turned to look at the red-head girl curiously.

He'd been out on the grounds for a walk, when he'd run into Tracey coming out of the Greenhouses. Somehow, they'd ended up walking together after he asked her what she was doing and she mentioned she was waiting for Daphne to finish helping Professor Spout. Before long, they were seated together on a log, talking under the shade of the Forbidden Forrest trees.

"You don't know what happened?" Harry asked, raising a brow and looking at Tracey somewhat amused in spite of the terrible aftermath of the match.

Tracey shrugged lightly, playing with her Slytherin scarf. "Daphne and I didn't attend, and I think Blaise had a date or something and didn't go either. As I'm really not that interested in Quidditch, I don't pay attention when anyone talks about it. And as a rule, I also don't listen to Malfoy or Pansy when they talk and try to ignore them as much as possible."

Harry couldn't help laughing at that latter part.

"You don't like them then?" Harry asked, though he really didn't have to, considering the dry tones she used when speaking of them.

Tracey arched a brow at the teenage boy next to her. "What is there to like?" Tracey asked wryly, causing Harry to chuckle once more. "Though, to be fair, Pansy is a prime example of what happens to a child when she is raised by a House-elf and has parents dote on her like she's a princess whenever they are around. It's not really her fault she has no social grace. For Malfoy... there are really no excuses."

Harry raised a brow at this, not really sure whether or not she was serious about Pansy really being raised by House-elves. Though if that were the case, how could she manage to speak in a way that was grammatically correct?

"So what happened?" Tracey asked, pinning him with a look, to which he told her the events of the match and the aftermath, his stomach still feelings like lead and his mood turning sour at the thought that he was banned. Forever!

Tracey frowned in sympathy. "I'm really sorry. I know you enjoy Quidditch. It sucks that Umbitch took that away."

In spite of how horrible Harry felt, he couldn't help laughing at the epithet Tracey used for the toad.

"Umbitch?" Harry asked through a smile. Tracey grinned at him in turn.

"Compliments of Millie," Tracey replied, causing Harry's brows to raise.

"As in Millicent Bulstrode?" he asked, to which Tracey nodded and raised a brow questioningly at him. "I just always thought she was... thick, like Crabbe and Goyle," Harry stated, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He didn't wish to offend Tracey, after all, if she cared for Millicent as her use of Millie would imply.

Tracey gave him a stern look, but did not seem offended or put out.

"Millie's really a good person, if you get to know her. Sure she's prickly, but once you get past her defensiveness, she's actually quite kind and generous and even funny. She's not stupid at all, she's about average though," Tracey said, finishing with a slight frown and not wanting to be unkind about Millie's academics but not wanting to lie either.

In truth, Millie tried and she was barely average in her studies. But she was by no means stupid. She simply struggled with the material.

"You can't really blame her for being so defensive either... after people calling her a hag withing her earshot," Tracey adder as an afterthought with a frown.

Harry chose not to comment, even if he was skeptical that Millicent Bulstrode could be kind or generous. Though, he did feel somewhat awful that someone would call Millicent Bulstrode a hag when she could hear them. It was cruel.

"Well it's fitting," Harry chose to say, referring to the epithet he couldn't bring himself to say.

Tracey nodded her head in agreement, having also been victim to the blasted Blood Quill.

"Well, at least you have more time to focus on the DA now. Besides, the curse will get rid of Umbitch and I'm sure you'll be back to playing next year," Tracey responded, causing Harry to look at her with his brows knitted.

"Curse?"

"Yeah, you know, on the Defense position," Tracey replied, turning to look at Harry.

"You really think the position is cursed?" Harry asked with a raised brow.

"Of course it is," Tracey replied almost arrogantly, as if there was no way it could NOT be cursed. "It's too much of a coincidence for every single professor to last only one year in this particular position, every year. And it's been happening since before we even started here. Actually, I think it started around the time or before my parents came to school here."

"Wouldn't Dumbledore do something about it though, like remove the curse if there was one?" Harry asked.

"Considering how long the curse has been around, it's possible that Dumbledore can't undo it, or even detect it. Which means whoever cast it, must be extremely powerful," Tracey replied knowingly and Harry turned to scrutinize the girl next to her, even as he felt his hairs stand on end as an image of Voldemort came to mind, as he could think of no one else who could outfox Dumbledore or be anywhere near as powerful.

"How do you know so much about dark curses?" Harry asked, licking his suddenly dry lips and trying to ignore the cold seeping beneath his skin and into his bones.

"Partly my father, since he's an Auror; Defense and the Dark Arts are something we've bonded over," Tracey replied and at Harrys mild horrified and astonished expression, she ventured to explain. "My father thinks it's as important to know your enemy, as it is how to fight them, in order to be better prepared."

"And the other part?" Harry fished in wary tones.

"Slytherin... we have several bookcases on the Dark Arts," Tracey replied, which shocked Harry. "There is nothing on how to cast any of the stuff, mind, but there is a lot of information you wouldn't even be able to read up on in the library."

"Snape lets you read that stuff?" Harry asked with a frown.

"Professor Snape doesn't coddle us. While he won't leave us with information that will allow harm to us, he also doesn't believe in protecting us from knowing of all the evils in the world," Tracey replied succinctly.

Harry stared at Tracey, unsure what to say in response. He felt as if his mind was blown and he found inexplicably, like he'd never really knew what being a Slytherin meant.

Briefly, he couldn't help wondering what life would have been like, if he'd been sorted into Slytherin. A small library of the Dark Arts his to access? Snape allowing him information that Dumbledore would never willingly give, if he felt he was protecting Harry by keeping it from him? Would Tracey have become his best friend in lieu of Hermione and Ron, when his only other options would have been Blaise and Malfoy?

Though, he felt he was only starting to scratch the surface of what Slytherin life might be. He found himself equal parts afraid and intrigued, what delving any deeper into his friendship with Tracey might mean.

But he supposed, that's what made him a real Gryffindor. He was willing to chance that.

TBC...

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