A/N To the person who ruined my evening by saying in a GUEST review that women don't have Adams apples - every single pedantic bone in my body has been crying out in sheer despair and misery since reading that and I hope you wake up to ten million insects in your underpants. And so without further ado:

Women do have Adams apples, they're just less pronounced than males! :) And I live inside your walls! :)

The last day before the holidays waned slowly. Defense Against the Dark Arts was the final lesson of the term and then they were free. The collective yearning for freedom was seemed almost palpable in the classroom, like you could cut it with a knife. The weather seemed foreboding - it would snow these holidays, that was for sure. Harry already finished the test in good time, this being one of the classes he was the least bad in, so took to doodling on the side of the paper as he waiting for Snape to call time. Doing this also prevented Ron from trying to look at his answers over his shoulder. He didn't even need to cheat - Ron knew this stuff just as well as he did, it was his nerves that were getting him down. But that didn't make him any less merciful, though, as he ignored him and pretended to obliviously watch his surroundings. It was quiet. The only sounds were the quiet shuffling of scrolls and Snape's constant coughing. It made his awareness of the world slowly drift to the backstage of consciousness, giving room to other things.

How on earth was it Christmas already? And yet... how was it only Christmas? Some would be staying at the school over the holidays, but he knew now more than ever that most will go back to their families this year. And he'd have to make the trip back to Grimmauld Place this evening. That was his legal home now and it was either there or the Dursley's… he could choose to remain at Hogwarts again, but he, rather depressingly, had assumed that stage in his life had passed now. And it wasn't as though there would be much to do in school anyway since neither Ron or Hermione were staying. Next term would be that stressful that he was intent on enjoying this time off.

"Your time is at an end. Put your quills down and turn in your parchment…"

The call met with groans from half the class. He didn't blame them either, the exam was hard. Snape expected a lot from them, even outside of him being a strict teacher. If it wasn't for the DA last year, he dreaded to think how many would be being dropped from his class left, right and center.

"Professor Dumbledore has instructed me to give a few announcements to those of you not choosing to stay with us over the holidays, so listen closely…"

Those announcements never were important, so he listened with one ear. Ron seemed too down to even pretend attentiveness. He slumped his head against the desktop, looking grief-stricken. He nudged him with his foot.

"Holidays now, mate, don't worry about it."

His grimace became a small smile.

"Didn't think I'd ever be happy to be shot of this place..." he laughed. "You still goin' Sirius's?"

He nodded, though his heart didn't feel the same agreement.

"It's either there for the Dursleys, so I suppose so…"

"Yanno offer is still there for ours, right? Mum would go mental if she…"

A finger tapped Ron's shoulder, stealing him away. Hermione pointed to Snape, who was looking expectantly back at them.

"... ah…. Sorry…"

"... I wish I could say having detention on the first day of a new term was a new accomplishment for the pair of you… but alas… how unoriginal. Now shut up."

As evening set in, snow indeed did come. Luckily he was not superstitious, so this Christmas-miracle had no impact on Harry's downcast mood. An impenetrable grayness enveloped the sky and he felt his mood slipping away with it. He finished packing quickly, then set about waiting for the others in the common room, staring out of the window with a fascination of the weather. The incessant drumming of the rising blizzard against the window was mesmerizing, and a droning background noise he could lose his mind to.

The time had finally arrived. This evening, all of the Weasley's would return to the Burrow, as per Mrs Weasley's request, Hermione would be returning to her parents and he would spend his first night as heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Ron's words in lesson hadn't been the first time he'd been offered a place to stay with the Weasley's, of course, and under normal circumstances, he might very well have taken them up on the offer. After all, they had indeed spent Christmas before together. But this time he fought for his right to say no. It just wouldn't feel right, intruding on a family that was not his own. Last time it had been the entire Order spending the time together then, now he would simply be the yet-again-orphaned-child they had taken pity on to invite.

And if he was being honest… he was talking completely out of his arse with that reasoning.

He knew it was daft. He knew there was nothing to be ashamed about accepting the help and welcoming arms of his friends. Heck - the Weasleys had practically become his family over the past few years. They certainly were far more than the Dursleys ever had been. But that didn't change his decision. It annoyed him how depressed and lonely he'd felt since losing Sirius and it was beckoning rapidly obvious that his insistence on spending the holiday alone was to prove something to himself. He wanted to get better on his own and not from the assistance of others. This wasn't about being happy… This was about earning happiness, not having it handed to him.

But when the time had come, however, he had found himself unable to board the train.

He was already dealing with so much and this was supposed to be his escape from it all… but no matter how much he forced himself to, he genuinely could not imagine a worse way to spend the holidays than locked away in the giant, empty house of his Godfathers. So he not board the Hogwarts Express to London and return to the looming, empty halls of Grimmauld Place. Nor did he didn't take the Weasley's up on their offer of sharing Ron's bedroom for the holidays. Instead, he stared from the hillside as the train filled up, called last orders and then departed. And then so did he, back into the castle and back into the empty Gryffindor Tower.

He was no stranger to the castle during Christmas - this being his fifth time staying in six years - but each time, Ron had also chosen to stay with him. And if he'd found out about his last-minute change of heart, he probably would have volunteered this time as well. But for some reason… The thought of spending two weeks with only Ron as company should have appealed to him, but didn't.

He was already home. He didn't care what any legally binding contract said. Grimmauld Place was not his home, nor was the Burrow, now was Private Drive. He was exactly where he ought to be right now. And he would find his salvation here, exactly as he had done six years ago.

Dinner that night was a depressing one.

His hunch was right - the most people he had ever seen had chosen to spend the holidays with their families - even more than in their third year, when both Dementers were present on the grounds. Out of the hundreds - possibly thousands - of students the castle usually held, a collection of barely twenty remained. And as they all sat at their respective tables, those of which he recognized could be counted on one hand. The only ones in his year were himself, Neville, Daphne Greengrass and Hannah Abbot. Neville, he was at least somewhat happy about - as much he wasn't in the mood for socializing, the thoughts of having the entire dormitory to himself seemed to rival Grimmauld Place in prospects he didn't like. Daphne, however… he could really have done without her in his mind for a while. She would serve only as a distraction, reminding him of his life outside of the holidays. It didn't matter he probably wouldn't see head nor tail of her the entire time, he was still aware she was in the castle and that was enough.

Dumbledore did not do his usual speech. There was no speech at all, in fact, as only a handful of staff remained at the table. Professor McGonagall had tried to say a few respectful and well-meaning words, but he wasn't listening. And even if he was, they seemed to lack the same passion Dumbledore's had. The food came and went and they were dismissed.

And thus the holidays were off to a great start.

It was no use. He was restless.

It was the Christmas Holidays. There was no lessons, no homework and no Quidditch meetings. Just free time to spend however he wanted. But he didn't feel like doing anything. To be honest, now it was actually happening, the free time just felt intimidating. It reminded him of the Dursleys and the long, meaningless days of summer that had to be filled somehow. The only difference then was he was bound there, guarded by his troll-like uncle and cousin, now he had no restrictions, yet for some reason… it didn't feel any different. Reading had been a good solution back then, but the thought of spending his Christmas holiday reading felt... Hermione-ish. And that had nothing to do with the fact that he was reading right now... he had long finished all of the Prince's ramblings, these days nestling himself between it's covers had simply become his automatic way to kill time and anxiety. Besides, his mind was on other matters, stretching in too many directions to make sense of any of them.

It felt like this book was taking longer to read than it took the author to write. He tried putting it down for a while, then read some more again, starting a few pages previous and reading each page twice, but still nothing. He had zero concentration. Taking it with him just in case, he headed out to get fresh air. And hopefully, inspiration as to what to do.

"Just nipping out," he told Neville, who mumbled a response.

He made his way to the courtyard, passing nobody on the way. He supposed that to others, no matter how hospitable Hogwarts was, home was still home. The few others he knew that would be staying over the holidays, usually had a sad story attached. Neville had been fighting more and more with his grandmother and it gotten to the point he was avoiding her. Hannah Abbot, the poor thing, had received news that she was now orphaned after her mother was killed by the Death Eaters. He made a special note to be kind to her whenever he'd see her at breakfast. Daphne… he didn't care about Daphne...

The courtyard was big enough for its center to be a shadowless, blinding white as the sun reflected off the snow. He stopped in the middle and basked in the cold, brisk air. The brightness made him squint when he looked up towards the main castle. It looks all but abandoned already… more than it already did, anyway. There had to be something to do. The library was shut, which meant he couldn't get any other books until after the holidays. There was a book shop somewhere in Hogsmeade, he was sure, but he was feeling too lethargic to remember the name of it.

The halls were just as dead on his return journey. Then again, he wasn't quite sure what he was expecting in the first place. On a moment's impulse, he glanced towards the dungeons to see if Daphne was there. She understandably wasn't, so he continued on his way. He should try and talk things through with her. Tracey really bothered him about what she had said. Defying all odds, that girl was able to summon more hate as a result of a few words than Malfoy had ever done in years' worth of knowing him. She challenged his patience in ways that he couldn't deal with... or more accurately, didn't know existed.

For the rest of the day, Daphne, Tracey, Hogwarts and Christmas swirled through his head. He couldn't even concentrate on concentrating. Thoughts seem to come and go haphazardly, fragmented into pieces too small for comprehension. He picked up a textbook and managed to read a dozen pages, but was sure by tomorrow he'd have no recollection of what subject it was even about. He tried to clean up his dorm, but even that proved to be requiring too much attention to detail and effort. It was never usually like this. Now he finally had "nothing to do", he wanted nothing else but to do something.

Maybe he'd go chasing that bookstore in Hogsmeade tomorrow? He could do some shopping... or something. He didn't really need anything, but there would probably be holiday sales, and he could pick up... something. Why was he trying to force himself? Before Hogwarts, he was content with having nothing to do, save for playing with toys he'd long grown out of. Now it seemed that he couldn't settle down at all. Was it because he had changed, or because his world had changed?

By eleven, the darkness tempted him to sleep. There was series of empty butterbeer bottles arranged on his night table, after boredom had caused him to surrender his sobriety. The mindless job of brushing his teeth was fit for trying to sort his thoughts. One thing emerged from the mass, clearly rising above the others.

He needed to see Daphne. She was the source of this cloud of misery hovering above him, preventing him from enjoying his free time. It was Daphne - it was Tracey - and the lies about their relationship. And if it wasn't a lie, he needed to hear it cold and brutal from Daphne's mouth. He couldn't just rid his mind of an image as vulgar as that, he needed closure. He had to see her tomorrow or he'd be condemning the rest of his holidays to reenacting this same day over and over.

With this in his mind, sleep overcame his confused mind with more ease than it had ever taken before.

The next morning, he found her sitting on alone at the Slytherin table. This pleased him, as he was in no rush to be overheard, but was also becoming self-conscious over the idea of sitting at the table he'd felt so much animosity towards for years. As he slipped into the seat opposite her, the few remaining Slytherins further up went silent but stayed mercifully to themselves.

"Hey."

She watched him silently. She didn't look thrilled he was here but didn't seem like her usual quivering wreck, which was good.

"Hello."

"Wanna do something today?"

"Do... s-something?"

"Something. Anything! Wanna go Hogsmeade?"

He had to force himself to smile - he wasn't really feeling it, but he had to make his intentions perfectly clear that he was trying to be friendly.

She glanced anxiously at the doors of the Great Hall.

"I shouldn't…"

"Why? Wouldn't Davis like that?"

There was definitely an aurora of mocking in his tone, but he hoped she knew it wasn't directed at her. She said nothing but watched him, so he continued.

"All the more reason to do it, then. Davis can go to hell. Let's have fun, it's Christmas."

Silence should have been the reaction he expected, really, but he'd hoped for something a bit more vigorous. Had he been expecting an emotional breakdown the likes of when they'd last seen each other? Why on earth would he hope for such a thing?

She seemed to have a passive air of disagreement about her - not strong enough to make her say no or shut him down, but he could tell she'd rather be left on her own. Unfortunately for her, he was feeling annoyingly optimistic.

"... and if you're not having fun, then we can always call it off any time."

"It's not that!" she said quickly, "I want to, I-I do, I just… I d-don't know what to say…"

He showed her the palms of his hands.

"You can say yes. It's that easy."

Finally, and probably, he knew, largely just to make him stop mithering her, she seemed to give in.

"..o-ok… yes…" she said, though impossibly quietly.

He laughed. It was an awkward breaking-the-silence kind of laugh.

"Yanno… you can pretend to mean it?"

"Sorry!" she squealed again. "I do! I do want to hang out with you! I-I just g-get all… I don't know what I'm supposed to say, I'm sorry!"

The unexpected rise in her volume drew back the stares of the other Slytherins, and he confessed it even made him jump a little.

"It's okay! It's alright…"

What he did next was something he didn't entirely mean to do, but also didn't stop himself from either.

He brought right hand down on top of hers. Hers was smaller than he'd realized, but that only made sense, her being one of the shorter girls in the year. Her skin was cold to the touch and she flinched under his contact, but didn't pull away.

"I'm just teasing. Now c'mon, we have no exams or revision to do and you still owe me a Christmas Party."

He chuckled, but her attention had zeroed in entirely on his hand above hers and nothing else. She probably hadn't even heard him… he had hoped it would calm her down, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect.

Reluctantly, he removed himself from her.

"C'mon, Daphne?"

Her attention snapped back to him and looked embarrassed.

"You… you still want to know me after... I-I abandoned y-you?"

He winced.

"Giving you a chance to make up for it. And it's not like there's much else to do these days."

"O-Okay, alright…" she burnt up. "... I didn't plan on d-doing anything today a-anyway… yes… let's go hang out…"

She actually seemed to mean it this time, so he smiled. His first genuine, well-earned smile in what felt like years at this point.

"Excellent."

He brought himself to his feet, an action so sudden that it seemed to startle her. She soon duplicated his movement, though it appeared she stopped halfway as, at her highest, her head only reached to where his chin was.

With a smile, he began to lead the way. But as they exited out into the entrance hall, she came up short.

"I would like to get r-ready before we go, p-please…?"

She gestured at the entrance to the dungeons, though looked neither at it nor at him. His immediate thought was this was another excuse to get away from him, before putting two and two together and realizing that yeah, maybe the casual shirt and jeans they were both in was not overly suitable for the weather.

"Oh, yeah. That's fine. Same, too. Meet back here in half an hour?"

"...c-could I have a l-little longer?"

She still wasn't looking at him, which made him worry. Still, he decided to trust her and nod in agreement, then watched as she quickly descended down the stone steps of the dungeon. He knew his chances of seeing her again after this were low, but he decided to have faith.

Fast forward approximately an hour later and, though it was probably defamatory to her, he was pleasantly surprised that she did actually emerge from the dungeons ready to meet him, this time wrapped in a cute, light blue winter coat. She'd also removed her glasses.

"That looks good on you!"

He meant it as a compliment, but couldn't tell if she appreciated it or not, as she immediately dipped her face under her hood in response. That left him feeling embarrassed.

They departed and started down the familiar path towards the school gates and the road that would lead them to Hogsmeade. To be traveling this route and not be flanked by a crowd of students on either side was an odd experience - this walk was only ever taken during the annual Hogsmeade trips, he was not used to doing it so alone.

As they passed through the grounds, he noticed her closing some distance between them. Not enough to be considered "close", but she certainly wasn't at her previous arms-length away. He supposed it made sense, with her fragility, that she did not want to get too close, but still felt better than being on her own. However, though she'd moved a little closer to him physically, mentally she seemed the total other end of the spectrum. Her gloved hands were clenched around the straps of her book bag to the point he could hear the leather creaking under stress. And with her head down and her lips pursed, she almost looked like a naughty child being sent to bed. He tried to stifle a laugh at the absurdity, but it was futile.

"W-what's the matter...?"

Guess there was no point hiding it, out here.

"You can relax, now? I'm not going to shout at you... or anything... we're just hanging out, remember?."

"R-right. Yes, sorry… h-hang out…"

But it still bothered him to see her so uptight. He supposed he should stop drawing attention to it, really.

"So, have you ever been on one of the Hogsmeade trips before? I've never bumped into you while down here."

She smiled at the change of subject and nodded sharply.

"Y-yes. I like it, I find the village very cosy… Though, I'm usually down with Tracey."

Of course… With Tracey.

He wondered, had she ever left the school without her? He couldn't see it at first glance, but he gathered her dependence on Davis must be absurdly heavy. What other reason would she put up with her so much for? She had no redeeming factors that he could think of, so what was there? Did she only put up with Davis's treatment of her because nobody else would give her the time of day? Could that be the reason she remained with her - an issue of self-confidence?

"W-what about you?"

He snapped back to consciousness.

"Oh! I usually head down with Ron and Hermione. We've started drinking a lot at the Three Broomsticks. Or we did, before the exams… have you ever been in?"

She nodded.

"I've been in, but I'm not much of a drinker… Tracey loves it there, though. And the Hogs Head, but I find them both a little rough… Have you ever been to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop?"

He laughed at his own experiences with the tea shop.

"Yeah, I have… and I can't imagine Davis much liking it there, either."

"I think it's cute! It's very comfortable. Would you be okay with going, if it's open?"

He'd only been in there once before with Cho and it had been on a date… this felt a lot less awkward than that, so he didn't automatically cross it out as a possibility.

"Yeah, I guess. I want to try and take a look in Tomes and Scrolls for something to read since the library is closed."

The grip on her bag slowly faded as she opened up a little more. They traveled, side by side, down the winding path towards the small town. And, with only the woods and mountains ahead, there didn't seem to be anyone else around, an emptiness which reflected on Daphne. She, at the very least, seemed a great deal happier now than she did in the Great Hall. It was almost as if she were enjoying the walk. That alone made him a little happier.

As scenic as their chosen route was, he confessed the cold was beginning to bite through his jacket and scarf. This made coming around the final corner and reaching the gates of the grounds very satisfying… until it wasn't.

"Oi, Harry!"

He looked around for the voice. It wasn't Daphne that had shouted at him - nor did he think she was capable of sounding so happy to see him - but he couldn't see whoever else it could have been.

"Down 'ere!"

And then for some reason, he saw that white-haired nurse from a few weeks ago, Chiara, flagging him down from up ahead. She and Mad-Eye Moody were stationed by the grounds gates… which were closed. He didn't even need to talk to them for a sinking feeling to activate.

"Is that Professor Moody!?"

There was a distinct alarm in her voice and it occurred to him, he didn't know how much the general public knew about what happened with him and Barty Crouch two years prior.

"Yeah. The real one this time, I should hope."

"W-what?"

"Nevermind. A joke. Doesn't matter. Hello there!"

As he neared the ground's boundary, Mad-Eye marched over to them. Using him as a shield between herself and Mad-Eye, Daphne lingered a few feet back, present but unwillingly.

"Hope you weren't plannin' on leavin' the castle, boy!"

He stared at him.

"... That was the reason we'd all the way down here in the snow, yes."

Chiara stepped in, cutting off what was presumably about to be an explosion on Moody's part.

"Can't. We can't let you do that I mean, I'm afraid. Dumbledore got the Order guarding the castle at all times over the holidays. Nothing is allowed in or out unless it's through floo network or the train."

"You're in the Order?"

She giggled.

"Everyone is in the Order, Harry. Be more surprised if you have friends who aren't!"

She finally seemed to have noticed Daphne's presence lingering behind him, and joined her hands together in a professional embrace.

"And how have you been doing Daphne?"

She had to raise her voice a little to be heard, as there were a good few meters separating the two, but Daphne seemed unable to move any closer.

"I have been well."

Though she nodded, her eyes had now returned to her shoes. Surely her neck must hurt, always in that position?

"Any accidents over the holidays?"

"... No."

She spoke to her very specifically like a doctor to a patient. If this was commonplace for them, he wondered how often she had been confined to the hospital wing?

"How is Tracey doing?"

"She is fine. She… went away for the holidays."

Chiara nodded, crossing her arms with an impressed-looking smile.

"That's good. You give her my love, okay?"

"I will."

He stepped in, the encounter simply getting too awkward for him to put up watching.

"So, no Hogsmeade, then?"

Chiara shook her head, but Mad-Eye answered for her.

"You know damn-bloody well not! Yer should be havin' yer arse back up in tha castle and figurin' a way to defeat the Dark Lord like Dumbledore wanted ya to! An' stay away from tha girl, while yer at it!"

He raised his hands in defense.

"Alright! Alright, we're going… Merry Christmas to you too, Mad-Eye."

He whispered that last part, but a scowling look from Moody told him he'd heard it just fine. Chiara gave him a polite wave off and he returned back the few feet to Daphne, who had watched everything from the sidelines.

"I'm sorry, Harry…"

He waved her off. He didn't want her apologizing for more things that were not her fault. Besides, he didn't trust himself to say anything more while within Mad-Eyes earshot, for fear of making his situation worse.

They turned back the way they came, spirits now dampened. The trek back up the hill seemed a lot longer than it had been coming down, and now they didn't even have the promise of Hogsmeade to look forward to. He didn't know quite how to move them on organically from that encounter, so decided to backtrack to it.

"You're... friends with that Chiara, then?"

"I'm fairly certain that Tracey is fucking her."

He stopped in his tracks while she carried on, unaware of his surprise.

His mind went numb. Chiara was at least ten years older than them, not to mention a staff member - how was that even allowed? Not to double-mention, he was also supposedly standing next to Davis's own partner... Tracey's adultery had been an ever-present factor in how he imagined their relationship being, but that was the first time he'd ever heard her acknowledge it. And there was definitely scorn in her voice… somehow, despite how far he'd gone already, he was able to sum up more hatred towards her.

Everything was so difficult and uncomfortable; addressing such matters wasn't really an option, so it shocked him that she had.

When he thought about Daphne, he couldn't help but have the lingering image of Davis haunt his mind. No matter how much he tried, the two were inseparable; one still interrupted his train of thought when thinking of the other. His idea of her had been polluted so much by Davis - as much as he didn't want to admit it to himself, he was forcing himself to try to ignore it. In the same way that jagged line down his forehead would never completely fade away, Davis was her lightning scar. It was the first thing he saw and no matter how much he tried, her reputation could not be overshadowed by Daphne. He was desperately trying to not see the two as one and the same, but when faced with it as brutally as she just had, it was impossible to see her as anything other than Davis's abused pet.

Soon, he realized he was being left behind in the snow and did a quick jog to rejoin her.

He felt guilty being the cause of another uncomfortable silence, since in the past, he'd been kind of hard on Daphne for those. The subject had been ever-present in his mind and it would definitely be a long journey back up. Suppose the elephant needed addressing after all?

"Listen, about Davis -"

"I would really rather we didn't, actually."

Her words were quick and stern. It was about the first time he'd heard her sound confident about something. It impressed him.

"Yeah, of course… Sorry."

"... s-Sorry…"

And like a switch, that attitude had vanished in an instant. He saw the familiar shine in her eyes, signaling the imminent arrival of tears.

"Hey! Hey, hey! We can still do something today, though! We could go to Hagrid's or… o-or… grab some brooms and head around the Quidditch Pitch, or…"

She smiled through the tears - a genuine smile, it seemed.

"You're sweet, H-Harry…"

He hadn't been expecting that. He also hadn't been trying for a compliment, he simply wanted to say anything that would avert another panic.

"... ah…. Cheers."

He gestured to the snowy landscape in front of them. He began to think this was going to be a rather awkward walk, just as the familiar shape of the castle was soon on their horizon. Traversing the final leg back up the hill, they re-entered the wooden bridge they had crossed through not twenty minutes ago, heading in the opposite direction. He was now beginning to regret layering up, as all that translated to after ten minutes of walking uphill was spicy armpits and a heartbeat loud in his ears.

"... Really, though, I mean it! We have two weeks of holidays and then we're right back in the deep end. I'll be damned if I don't enjoy this time off while we have it. At this point, I'm determined. Do you have anything you want to do?"

She nodded, but still looked a bit put off.

"It is actually quite cold out here, actually... I think I'd like to get back inside."

"I'm glad you said it!" he laughed. "Back to the Great Hall, then? It was a lovely trip around the grounds and back..."

She turned away from him. He initially thought this to be her disguising another laugh, but when she spoke again, her voice had returned to it's jittery and shaky tone.

"... it… often has a lot of people i-in there… ... I suppose that… y-you could come to the Slytherin Common Room… if you w-wanted…"

He felt genuinely mortified over the prospect. He imagined that was not the intended reaction.

"Seriously?"

"W-well... there's only f-four of us s-staying o-over the holidays... and they're all in the years below so I... don't think they w-would have a problem with it… a-and it's not t-technically against the rules, b-but I understand if you don't w-want to…"

There was quite a whitewash of feelings happening inside him. It was true that the Slytherin common room was closer to where they already were, and that it made more sense for them to go where she was comfortable than, say, his own common room. But Slytherin house had put him through such dark times during his years in Hogwarts, the idea of enjoying himself in their common room felt almost blasphemous.

… which was exactly why he decided he wanted to do it.

"That sounds fun. Sure, I'd love to!"

"Really…? Are you s-sure you're okay with that?"

"Definitely! It'll be fun! I'd love to get to see the Slytherin Common room for the first time!"

He was lying, but she didn't need to know that.

In fact, he saw a quick flash over her face that she quickly recovered from, but in those few seconds she looked the happiest he'd ever seen anyone. He guessed when she knows so few people, taking up an offer like this must have meant a lot to her.

So, they departed together down the dungeon steps. This much of the journey he knew by heart, it being the same route they took to Potions lessons, but when they reached the end of the first corridor and turned left instead of right, he was suddenly out of his comfort zone. His only time in the Slytherin Common Room was once, five years ago and it had barely been for twenty minutes. Returning to that spot now as a welcome visitor had a lot of poetic symmetry that, he was sure, someone more intelligent than him would probably find very interesting. Frankly, he was just satisfied over the look on Malfoy's face if he ever knew.

They arrived at the entrance to the common room and Daphne allowed them in. Despite the confidence they had both shown at the idea, their entry inside was a slow one, with eyes peeled in every direction. They confirmed that the common room was indeed totally abandoned. Daphne seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at this and he too, began to gather his thoughts together. Unusually, the aura of the common room was refreshing, feeling isolated from the rest of the world. Then again, the dimness did also make it feel like they were underwater, which he wasn't too sure he enjoyed the idea of, after it occurred to him.

"Would you like some tea?" she offered.

He watched her cross the room and pick up a tray of silver china off the top of the shining grand piano and bring it over to a pair of leather sofas.

"Please."

"What do you take?"

"Milk and two sugars, please."

She slowly spread a tea set across the table, concentrating on every little movement, as if she was scared that error would equal her immediate death. It was a funny image, but he felt a little bad for her. He couldn't even imagine the pressure she must constantly put herself under…

… hang on a minute, yes he did. He was Harry-bloody-Potter.

He joined her at the living-room-like set up, which reflected the Gryffindor's common room in a kind of dark symmetry. As he began to sit next to her, he realized how appropriate this place was for Daphne. The high-backed settees totally separated them from the rest of the room, and it didn't look like it got very busy here even during term. All of the furnishings, from the carpets on the floors to the wall decor, they all look dated but not overly worn. It seemed the perfect place for the reserved, bookish girl he had come to know to live.

He saw the tea she used looked as classy and refined as the room around it, with painted green and black serpent motif. There was a slight "ting" as she accidentally clipped the teapot on a cup as she was pouring. She breathed in sharply; she must be really nervous, as it wasn't the kind of thing anyone else would worry about. She quivered at her mistake; he pretended not to notice.

As she finished pouring and handed him a cup to take a swig, he could see her trying her hardest not to look like she was watching him. He sipped it. The tea was nothing special, but then again, he couldn't really complain, he was pretty awful at preparing it himself, as the Dursleys often reminded him.

Her eyes shouted at him, begging for some kind of feedback.

"Lovely, that is. You're very good."

He expected an awkward attempt to downplay her joy, but she just blushed while looking at her feet and smiling. He recalled her words from the Slug Club and hoped that she was a better Potions brewer than tea maker.

She blushed as they both got down to enjoying their drinks. She seemed to have calmed down since they settled into her common room, and he was starting to feel a little better now that he'd confirmed for himself there was nobody about. This was starting to be a nice evening already.

Even if she was calmer than before though, she was still fidgeting a bit. She ran her hand down one of her bangs as she obviously tried to think of something to say next.

"So... how are you getting on with school work?" he settled on.

"I'm on top of all my revision," she said simply.

"What the bloody hell…?" his voice came out unnaturally high-pitched.

"They don't make the timetable so it's impossible to handle… it's meant to train you for life after you leave Hogwarts. Time management."

He laughed.

"I don't have time for time management. On top of lessons, any free time I have is spent either planning for Quidditch or trying to… to..."

It occurred to him that he hadn't told Daphne anything about his prophecy. He faltered for a second, deciding to cover his tracks. That was a conversation for another day… maybe.

"... to… get time to see my mates."

When he thought about it, he shouldn't be afraid to tell her about the prophecy and Dumbledore's mission. She was the least Slytherin person he'd ever met, not to mention, she'd probably have nobody to share the information with. But for some reason, he couldn't bring it up. At least not today, and not on short notice.

"I suppose I don't really have that problem, then."

She said it so bluntly that he almost laughed, but when he glanced at her, he saw she hadn't been joking. In fact, she looked horrified she'd let that slip out. He decided to aid her recovery.

"That sounded bad - "

"Not at all! I don't ever see you with anyone, I just figured you were just a private person. People go at different speeds, yanno?"

She nodded in solidarity.

"I am. I like being on my own, it's comfortable. Less chance of me making an idiot out of myself… It's a choice. I mean, it can get lonely sometimes, but… I have the rest of my life to make friends, these years are the ones that will set us up for the rest of our lives, right? Everyone is off spending Christmas with their friends and family, but I like the alone time. I find it very relaxing."

"Well, my friends have all fallen out and my family's dead, so who am I to say?" he laughed.

Scratching his head in his hand, he took a look at his quiet companion. She seemed taken aback; a very unexpected reaction to his daft joke. An unwelcome emotion bubbled inside him as he realized her reason why.

"That was a joke… I was joking…"

Eager to break off the conversation, he grabbed a look at the gigantic glass window that looked out into the depths of the Great Lake.

"Have you ever played wizard chess?" she perked up.

"Me and Ron used to play it all the time."

Without saying anything more, she moved to one of the cupboards and dug out a small chess set.

"Do... Do you want..."

"Sure, why not?"

She brought the box out, they arranged the pieces, and before long they were sending pawns charging to their inevitable fates. He took his time with each move and intently examined every option and consequence, nostalgia for the game rife in his mind. He and Ron had pretty much spent their entire first Christmas in Hogwarts playing wizarding chess... less so after they had to play it in real life, but maybe they shouldn't have been so hasty? For a time the game was a lengthy battle, but she soon spotted an opening in his defenses, and a few moves later, his king was cornered by several of her pieces.

"Damn, you're good at this."

An honest appraisal. Her technique was pretty good. Several times she exploited his patterns and lack of prediction. He picked up a broken piece and examined it as it began to reassemble itself.

"I played a lot at the... well, I haven't had a chance to have a game in years…"

"Davis not play with you?"

The absence of her answer caused him to think about his question.

"... sorry. Said we wouldn't talk about -"

"She doesn't really have the patience for it. Can we play again?"

The strain in her voice was so extreme - she asked him this as if she were asking him to cut off his own hands. The spirit of competition must have gotten into her.

"Don't expect me to go easy on you this time..."

Not that he was before, mind. She seemed to appreciate the competitive tone.

"S... same here..."

They played again. Minutes later, when he was in the middle of a specifically complicated maneuver, she perked up from the silence.

"I'm an orphan, too, a-actually."

Quite a bombshell to drop in the middle of a game. He watched her from the other side of the chessboard.

"That so?"

"Mmhmph. My m-mother passed away and I had no other relatives... so I-I was raised in the Augury's Cradle Orphanage until I was eleven. That's where I learned chess. I've lived h-here ever since."

That was potential quite a fragile subject to touch upon, but she seemed unusual at ease discussing it. He knew others would not be so at home exposing their past like this - it gave him a level of respect for her.

"You live at Hogwarts?"

"We all live at Hogwarts."

He shook his head with a laugh.

"I meant - like - you don't go anywhere during the summer holidays? You just stay here?"

"I wouldn't have anywhere to go," she shrugged. "I'm too o-old to live in the orphanage anymore and, w-well, I'm a little old to be adopted now… Unless you know of anyone in need of a sixteen-year-old-socially-retarded-daughter who can make a mean Wiggenweld Potion?"

She worded it like a joke and did indeed have a small smile on her face, but he saw no humor in it. She rubbed her arm awkwardly, having taken his quietness as a reason to continue. He was not really sure what he could say, so ended up simply giving her his attention in silence.

"But it's o-okay, I mean. I enjoy it here... The castle is my home. I feel like a part of it sometimes. Like one of the house ghosts."

Now that he could get a good look at her face, something about her seemed a bit different. He wasn't not sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but she looked kind of nice. Had she put makeup on when she'd gone to get ready? Her eyes moved upwards to look at him, before quickly flicking down again.

After she had just so brutally exposed herself to him, he felt guilty not doing the same. And he could definitely use the welcome ear to vent to.

"My godfather passed away recently and I've - "

"Sirius Black?"

His head snapped up to her.

"Yeah… how'd you…?"

"S-sorry! There were just r-rumors, is all…"

She seemed alarmed, like she'd just revealed a secret about herself. It was okay, he didn't have a problem with people knowing Sirius was his godfather. He was proud of it.

"Right… yeah… he passed away and I've been left his house. He named me as his sole heir which means I own all the Black family property and money. Four floors and nine bedrooms, not including the attic. And I just… haven't the faintest idea what to do with it all. I don't want to live there, it would just feel wrong. I don't want to sell it, either. But I don't just want to rot… I was meant to be staying there these holidays."

"Well… you have a house you don't want and I'm going to be homeless next year, sounds like we could help each other out?"

That was... really not the answer that he was expecting. She didn't look fearful or sad as she said this, but rather, quite serious. If he wasn't looking directly at her face, he'd have missed the small smile perched on it. Then she gave a childish giggle, and he couldn't help smiling.

She could do jokes now, too? Very impressive.

"Touche."

"Wouldn't that make you Harry Black, then? If he labeled you as the sole heir to the Black fortune…? Or is that not how that works?"

That was a fair point… and one he had absolutely no answer to, if he was honest. He didn't imagine so purely because, with all the legal forms he'd been forced to sign at the beginning of the year, he thought something like that would have cropped up. Still, he was in no rush to steal a dead man's name, anyway. His last name was the only solid connection he had to his mother and father - even if he was offered the chance to change it, he'd have turned it down.

"I don't know. Might be, but… I like my name the way it is. To be honest, I could do without the attachment. Being the heir of his house and property… It just feels like his ghost is following me everywhere I go. And not in a good way. I wish he'd never put my name on those bloody scrolls, it'd have been a lot easier if the decision was never mine to make. It's a lot of responsibility and god-knows I've already got a lot of that going on right now anyway."

She nodded, thinking.

"Are there no other family members you could pass the burden onto?"

He laughed in disgust.

"Bellatrix Lestrange. The Death Eater that killed him. Or failing that, Draco Malfoy. Neither of which I'm particularly eager to get their hands on his property… and it wouldn't feel right passing on the burden to someone else, anyway. His memory deserves care and attention… which I just don't know if I can give it, these days… Feels awful to say."

"I understand, Harry. Don't feel ashamed of y-yourself."

He gave her a weary smile. Hearing the words, however fleeting they were, definitely did help.

She took an exaggerated look around the common room, the way he saw pantomime actors do.

"I have a secret I wanna tell you!"

"What is it?"

"You're gonna have to come closer to hear it!"

He watched her cautiously.

"... pardon?"

When he didn't move in, she took the cue instead.

"My name…" she whispered, "... is actually Daphne Jackman."

He blinked. Partly from surprise, partly from how out-of-nowhere that revelation had come.

"Wha…?"

"I'm Daphne Gabriel Jackman, technically. According to my birth certificate records, my Mother and Father were not actually married when they had me, but I was given her last name after she passed away. I've never met my father. I know his name and that he was pureblood, like mum, but that's about it."

"That's… interesting…"

"But! It means I'm not technically a member of the Greengrass family. I'm the last known one and I bear their name, but according to all wizarding laws, I'm not actually a Greengrass, I'm a Jackman. So...I'm kind of in a similar situation to you. Different, of course! But similar."

The more he learned of her the more his intrigue increased. She lived alone in the castle since age eleven, with no family or friends to speak of and even her name was false? Maybe she was at home among the House ghosts, after all?

Whatever sudden burst of energy she recived from the prospect of sharing her secret did not last long, however, as she seemed to realized herself slum back into her usual demeaner.

"Y-You said you wanted to get s-something from Tomes and Scrolls? Were you after anything specific, or…?"

Quite a change in the subject matter. Then again, that was probably the point.

"Not much, actually. I've started reading a bit more this year and I've finished everything I have."

Her eyes appeared to light up at this.

"I'm quite a reader myself... I could m-maybe lend you something? Do you read nonfiction or fiction?"

"Nonfiction, usually. Quidditch handbooks, defensive spellbooks, potion brewing."

"Oh… I-I read a lot of fantasy and science-fiction, but I definitely have a few on potion brewing."

He choked on his tea. Her innocent smile made him hesitate.

"You read science-fiction?"

She fidgeted with her hair a little and looked away, but another small smile had emerged. It was a little more extreme of a reaction than he had expected, but still kind of cute in that Daphne-kind-of way. It threw him a little off guard, and only when she said nothing more did he decide to rephrase.

"How do you read science-fiction...? I couldn't ever imagine Slytherin reading something sci-fi...?"

"Well... I only m-moved to Augery's Cradle when I was nine, before that I was in a m-muggle orphanage, so I got a lot of their culture. Have you ever read Star Trek? It's a fascinating series, I still have a few novels from when I was a girl."

Never in his life had he ever pictured a scenario, ever, where a pureblood Slytherin would utter the words 'Star Trek' from their mouth.

"... No, can't say I have… I've been in the room when the shows have been on, though. Never really sat down and watched an episode."

For some reason, she looked gob-smacked.

"There's a Star Trek television show…?"

That was more like it.

"Sorry, you say you've got some potions books?"

"Oh, yes! Sorry, I'll go get them!"

She left their table and returned a moment later holding three good-sized potions books. They definitely looked like they would keep him busy during the holidays, but he severely doubted that any one of them would have been previously owned by the Half-Blood Prince. Still, though, it wouldn't hurt to have the option.

"These are the ones I'm not revising with right now… Potions Opsecule by Arsenius Jigger is a classic, A Humble Guide for Potion Brewing That You Cannot Live Without by Blossom Degrasse is a little basic but has wonderful narration, and Brewing the New Pharmaka by Fleamont Potter… any r-relation there?"

He squinted, glancing at the book's cover. He'd never heard of someone sharing his last name before, but considering it a fairly big leap to decide there must be a connection.

"None that I know of. But thank you, this'll definitely keep me busy."

They continued to play the rest of the day away. At no point did the topic delve into more serious matters again, though he'd be lying if he said they were not still ever-present in his mind. It was a good feeling that she'd gotten this comfortable around him; at times like this, he felt like he was getting closer to talking to the real her than anyone else ever had. But that came hand-in-hand with the awareness of Davis lingering in his mind.

Her and Daphne being involved with each other just did not make sense - and he was finally at the stage where he was unwilling to accept it. And not in a "that's so unbelievable, I never would have guessed it!" way, but a genuine, "this is unbelievable and there is a deception occurring somewhere," way. He was being lied to by Davis - or maybe she was forcing Daphne into something she wasn't comfortable with - because he was one-hundred percent convinced there was not a fraction of this girl that had anything positive to do with Davis. Something else was going on, it had to be.

"Shit, we've been playing for two hours. Dinner is soon."

The instant drop in her face showed she had an objection to stopping, though she said nothing. She hastily nodded before carefully putting their empty cups back on the tray and getting off the leather settee. He did the same and picked up her bag that she'd left beside him, offering it to her.

"Oh, thank you!"

They walked side by side as they made their way back up to the entrance hall, exchanging no words between them. Her gaze was firmly locked ahead of her, though she looked happy with herself. He wasn't sure what to say to her, but he also wasn't sure that he needed to say anything. The fact that she was happy, and happy because of him, was enough to make the weight of the world feel as light as a feather.

"Thanks for today, Daphne. We should do this more, it was… it was fun. And I… I…"

He was starting to feel a little out of his depth here. That was to be expected - this girl was still a relative stranger, and he'd rather awkwardly forced them into spending the day together.

"... I care about you, so it was good to see you happy."

Her silence told him she was giving the words their due weight, but as it stretched out, he couldn't help but feel more and more apprehensive. Thankfully the silence ended almost as quickly as it had begun.

"T-Thank you… I care about you too, Harry. Thank you for tonight."

That light, tentative, almost shy voice. Her soft, almost child-like tone... he'd simply be lying to himself if he said he didn't recognize these familiar feelings for what they were. With thoughts of her dancing on his mind, he started anticipating seeing her again.

And thus, the holidays were off to a great start.