A/N: Hey everyone! Welcome back to another story, this one a commissioned fic for 5Firehawk!
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Bold = Parseltongue
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September 1, 1994
"You look different," Daphne said with no preamble as soon as the pair of them were tucked away in a long-abandoned classroom following the opening feast.
"In a good way?" Harry asked.
He'd taken a risk with his new style to begin their Fourth Year; longer hair than normal by a few inches, better-looking glasses and the overall messier nature of his now longer hair. Considering his crush on Daphne, he had hoped it was something she'd like… with those being the first words out of her mouth, he felt that hope be greatly diminished.
"It's not bad," She said with a shrug, adding more when she saw the slight lowering of his shoulders. "You pull it off better than most, I guess."
Harry chanced a look at her face and saw a faint blush on her cheeks. He imagined his was way worse than that, but considering how seldom a blushing Daphne happened, he'd take it. She looked really pretty when her cheeks and nose were like that, especially the way it went down her neck.
Then again, she always looked pretty. Merlin, he was hopeless, ever since that first meeting he'd felt that way with her, and then when she wasn't with him, the feeling was all the more prevalent. Daphne had come to be the best part of his life, the closeness they shared due to so many similar circumstances and her general helpful attitude towards him had guaranteed that position for her.
And to think it'd all started on his very first day of Hogwarts, aboard the train… following that, it only continued with every major happening in his life.
Flashback - Their first meeting
Why hasn't anyone entered my cabin yet? Did I lock the door? Does nobody want to sit with me because of Voldemort?
Harry's nerves were horrible, and it was only his first day, not even that unless you counted the train ride. To him, thus far, it felt worse than attending any Muggle school — at least there he could know what to expect, unlike Hogwarts.
What if somebody cast a spell at him? He didn't know how fast it would go, what it would do or how to cast them back in self-defence.
A series of knocks on his door shook him from his frenzied thinking and after clearing his throat before he made a fool of himself, he called out to the person. "Come in."
Without replying, the person who'd been knocking slid open the cabin door and stepped in. Harry immediately took her in, as it was a girl he hadn't seen in the halls or on the platform, not that he could recall.
His first thought upon seeing her was that she was tall, taller than him by a couple of inches, Aside from that, she was nearly thin enough to rival him, though her build looked more physically active than his; her hair was honey-blonde, long enough that he saw it swaying towards her centre back, she had pale skin and on her face was a series of light freckles only barely noticeable.
"Seen a girl before?" She asked with a cocked head and blatant once-over of him.
"Ye-Yeah," Harry's voice broke on his initial reply, and again, he cleared his throat to shake free the nerves that were gripping him. "Yeah, sorry… was wondering who'd join me first."
She looked at him curiously and after one more peek back whence she came, the door was slid shut behind her. "It's fine, I'm used to it — my height," She put up her bag with an easier time than he did before taking a seat across from him. "Your name?"
"Harry Potter," He said, having no reason to hide it from his soon-to-be fellow Hogwarts student.
"Really?" She asked, the slightest of frowns marring her features. "You're the Harry Potter all our families tell us about?"
Her tone wasn't rude, though the question could be interpreted as such.
What followed that was what came to be his usual introduction with new witches or wizards that ran into him. He would show off his scar after brushing aside his bangs, the person would have some sort of physical reaction to it — by in large — and then, the conversation would go one of three ways, though the last was seldom seen.
One, they would treat him as if he were the greatest person he'd ever met and try buttering up to him for whatever they could.
Two, they would try their best to curry favour with him and should that fail, hostilities would follow. That was what happened most of the time upon his sorting.
Finally, the third option was the one with which the girl before him, Daphne as he came to know her, would set precedence. He would be afforded no special service or favour, nor would he be faced with prejudice or hatred, to those few people, he would be Harry. To them, Potter didn't matter.
Flashback - A month after the sorting
"Hello, Harry," Daphne greeted, her tone only a touch friendlier than the neutral one she'd initially used with him. "Is everything alright, you look… rattled."
Truth be told, Harry had been wrongfully sorted. There wasn't any other explanation for it, as he certainly didn't belong in Slytherin, yet the stupid hat had sorted him into it. He hadn't a clue as to what it was thinking, and the more he thought about it himself, he realised that it couldn't think — it was a ruddy hat for Merlin's sake!
Slytherin House was horrible, yes, that was why he'd come to see her. He wished, he hoped, there was a way to swap robes with the girl. Daphne had gotten Gryffindor after all, and that was the House his parents had been in, the one he should've been in. From what he learnt of her family before the vast majority of Slytherin started ignoring or picking on him, Daphne had come from a dark family that was almost wholely sorted into Slytherin. There was even a rumour floating about his house that she'd tricked her way into Gryffindor using the aforementioned dark magic.
Malfoy in particular had said something about it; 'I heard she killed her parents, fools that my father said they were, for special powers. There's no other way she's good with magic like everyone says, I had the same tutor that she did. He probably mistook her for the prodigy when it was actually me, there's a reason he doesn't work at Hogwarts, after all.'
Laughter had followed Draco's jealousy-filled remark, mostly by his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Of the rest of their year mates, half followed Draco for reasons unknown to Harry. Those that didn't, formed their own little groups, like a group of two girls he'd seen that hung around the edge of a second group that was a trio of boys.
One thing the bulk of them, upper-years included, had in common was the love of bullying him for his parentage with terms he only barely knew the meaning of. Pranks and hurtful spells would often follow those words too, but what could he do?
All he could think of was to go to Daphne and hope the rumours were true.
So that was what he'd done back in that time, and as the months passed by, it'd worked for him in more ways than one.
Flashback - Daphne Greengrass, Queen of Help
"You're sure everything is fine, Harry?" Daphne asked, her eyes wider than they normally were and her tone strangely worry-filled.
"Yeah," He said with a cough, dust expelled from his lungs. "You pulled me from the steps right before he would've got me," he commented quietly, avoiding looking at his friend.
"I did," Daphne said, looking away the same as he had — his peripherals caught that.
"You beat the chess game too, we wouldn't have made it past that without you," He said, his eyes still on the unmoving clothes he could only barely make out, his glasses too covered in dust.
Daphne's hand gripped his shoulder and pulled up, the girl spoke once the both of them were back on their feet. "It was you that flew for the key, and you that knew the spell to deal with the squid plant, we're even."
"You didn't have to come," Harry tried one last time, the credit she kept denying making him feel worse.
Daphne scoffed and lightly punched his shoulder. "I did — for the same reason I taught you those spells to defend yourself with, for the same reason I had words with the few people I know to help you against Malfoy and for the same reason I spoke for you with those of Slytherin House," Daphne cleaned his glasses and righted them on his face, her eyes bore into his as soon as she did so. "We're friends, and I'll always help you."
He wasn't sure if it was because they were both orphans. He wasn't sure if it was because they were both outcasts in their 'Houses', ones that they so badly wished to trade. It could've been the lack of friends they each had, it could've been the stories that followed them around and affected how they were treated, Merlin, it could've been so many things.
But those words, the latter half especially, had been followed through with by Daphne for the years to come.
From Second to Third, and now that they were together again in Fourth Year, he hadn't a doubt they'd be followed again.
September 1, 1994
"Thinking again?" Daphne asked, a small smirk on her face and the previous blush completely gone.
He must've been thinking longer than he thought if she was that amused with him.
"Yeah, sorry," Harry rubbed the back of his neck as he always did when he was nervous. "Just thinking about our years together, how much you've helped me. I wish the other Gryffindors weren't as hostile as you, I wish they did more than respect you too — if any of them had the chance to know you they'd see how wicked you are."
Harry meant every word. Daphne had helped him so many times he'd lost count as the years went by, and despite what his personal thoughts on the matter were, she claimed he helped her equally as much. It didn't matter that he hadn't a clue how that worked, his magic was primarily gifted in support elements like Charms or Transfiguration, he had a knack for healing spells too.
Maybe the lattermost of those was pretty helpful with the trouble he'd often get them in… still, the other two weren't as cool as her being a 'prodigy', as Draco had said, in Defence Against the Dark Arts or Potions. He knew she was pretty gifted in the other variation of Defence Against the Dark Arts too, provided you dropped the 'defence against' portion of it.
"I much prefer your company, too many of them are overly loud and boisterous. Those two girls that sometimes greet you in passing, Tracey and Millicent, the pair of them seem more my friend-type than anyone else aside from you," Daphne's blush returned as she admitted that to him, but before he could tease her, she narrowed her eyes at him with a hand on her wand.
She was waiting for a remark from him, and he was very tempted to give it considering how far their friendship had come.
On the flip side, her spells hurt. He'd save it for another day, one when he felt like teasing the Gryffindor girl who'd somehow become and remained as his closest friend since his introduction in the wizarding world.
"Wait," Harry said suddenly, taking a good look at her again.
"What?" She asked in an aloof manner, one brow arched incredibly high as her hands came to rest upon her hips.
"You got taller again… I was so close to catching up to you," Harry sighed and hung his head.
As for Daphne, she snickered and switched topics to that of her favourite.
Curses, and more specifically, the boundaries you could push with them.
