It was a slow night in the Hogwarts hospital wing with students either at dinner or studying. The week after the Easter holidays was always the same. Poppy Pomfrey, the Hogwarts Matron and nurse, was showing a student assistant how to arrange the potions cabinet when her most frequent patient entered the hospital wing. She let out a sigh and walked towards the entrance to greet her new charge.

"Miss Greengrass, shouldn't you be at dinner? Not that I'm surprised to see you here. You must have been here a dozen times this year," the nurse said in both a sad and reproachful tone.

"Good evening, Madam Pomfrey. I finished dinner early to work on a project. Just had a little potions accident," Daphne Greengrass replied. Upon seeing the nurse's skeptical face, the Slytherin student added, "Nothing too serious. You'll see."

The hospital matron could easily see her patient was trying to downplay the injury. "Not too serious? I'll be the judge of that, Daphne. While you are my favorite patient and I applaud your intent, it still pains me to see you here so frequently. Now let me see your injury," Poppy said with concern, which was evident in her furrowed brow.

Daphne winced as she presented her right arm and replied with conviction, "Then you know why I can't stop."

Madam Pomfrey suppressed a murmur of consternation and gave a silent nod. She then pushed back her patient's sleeve. "You're right...about your injury. I see you applied some of the burn relief potion I gave you last time," the Matron said while casting a diagnostic charm, "though it still appears a little tender. Not all the potion's effects have been counteracted either."

Daphne gave a little grunt of pain, which she quickly squelched. "I'm making progress with her potion, in case you were curious," she said defensively.

It was clear to both of them that she was trying to justify her constant visits to the hospital wing. Neither spoke for several moments.

The Matron broke the silence with the concern still apparent on her face and in her voice, "While I'm gratified to hear about your progress, you're only a 3rd year and should not be taking on these risks with unsupervised potions experiments. It matters not that you have almost NEWT-level potions skills. Your health and safety are still my responsibility and I'm obligated to inform your parents about your injuries." Madam Pomfrey took a breath, put her hand on her patient's shoulder, and looked into the Slytherin student's eyes as she earnestly delivered bad news, "Daphne, I don't know how much longer I can delay doing so."

Alarm flashed in Daphne's eyes and she launched into a quiet, desperate plea. "She's my sister and I love her more than anything. I can't stop. You know why," Daphne said, hoping for understanding.

She continued baring her soul to the nurse, "I obviously know potions thanks to my family. Please. Please let's continue keeping this between ourselves. My parents are already doing everything they can to find a cure for her and I don't want them worrying about me, too. I'm begging you. I just want to lessen her pain and give her hope. Please."

Poppy looked into the distressed blue eyes of her patient and saw how heavily Astoria's situation was weighing on Daphne. She then felt a pain in her heart thinking about the poor girl being here in her hospital again. All she was trying to do was improve the quality of life for her sick sister. The potions and charms experiments didn't always go as planned for Daphne, so she ended up here frequently. Daphne didn't even want other people to know what she was doing and asked Poppy to play things off as though Daphne were clumsy and injury-prone instead.

She decided not to push her patient any more this evening and acquiesced. Poppy answered with an affectionate tone, "Of course, dear. Your usual bed in that quiet, secluded corner is open. I'll be with you in a moment after giving Miss Fawley, my new student assistant, a few more instructions." The matron dipped a hand into her pocket and then silently reached her hand out to the Slytherin student.

A misty-eyed Daphne nodded her understanding as she took the calming draught from Madam Pomfrey and began walking toward the bed in the wonderfully dark corner where no one would notice her behind the curtains. She whispered to herself, "I'll just take a nap. It's been a long day."

"Oh and, Daphne," the Matron waited for the blonde 3rd year to turn around before continuing, "we received more of the koala-print Muggle bandages you're so fond of."

With eyes glistening, Daphne gave Madam Pomfrey a slight smile that warmed the nurse's heart.


A little while later the second most frequent patient stood outside the hospital wing with an unwanted companion he was eager to be rid of.

"Oliver, I told you I'm fine. Could you let me walk the rest of the way on my own? The doors are right there."

"The Quidditch Cup is too important to let things go to chance, Harry. I had to be sure you got here in one piece, mate," the 7th year said protectively.

Harry responded wearily, "Right, well, thanks. I'm here now so I'll see you tomorrow."

"Indeed you will. See you bright and early, Harry," a beaming Oliver said as he walked away.

Harry didn't know what Oliver meant and just wanted to be left alone. "Yeah, sure," he muttered as he pushed the hospital wing door open to enter and grunted in pain, realizing too late that he'd used the wrong hand.

The boy with messy black hair in Gryffindor Quidditch robes stood at the check-in desk looking around the room to make sure it wasn't a busy night. He hated being seen in the hospital wing on such a recurring basis and felt rather sheepish about his long medical history. Normally, if there were too many other students, notably Slytherins, he would just return to his dorm and endure the pain until the morning. Unfortunately, he needed treatment ahead of the big match with Slytherin looming in two days.

A voice from seemingly out of nowhere startled the boy out of his thoughts. "Ah, here's one of my best customers. It's been nearly a month since your last visit. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me, Mr. Potter."

Harry Potter immediately sensed the sarcasm in Madam Pomfrey's tone and did not blame her. They did in fact see each other much too often, especially for his taste.

"Trouble seems to find me and we both know I couldn't stay away from you too long. After all, you're one of the most important people in my life, Madam Pomfrey."

The humor could not completely hide the truth in his statement. There was an awkward moment where Poppy Pomfrey gave the downtrodden 3rd year a solemn glance and Harry replied with a silent grimace while looking down at his shabby trainers.

They both composed themselves and Harry tried the smart-aleck repartee to lighten the mood. "Only one of your best customers? I'm sure I'm your best and favorite."

"Wrong on both accounts," she said with a chuckle without elaborating. Madam Pomfrey got back to the business at hand. "So Mr. Potter, it appears that Quidditch is the source of this visit. Tell me what happened."

Harry glanced around and realized the hospital wing was devoid of other patients and decided to be forthcoming. "Well, we've got a big match this weekend. Gryffindor plays Slytherin and the Quidditch Cup is at stake. Oliver has been working us extra hard this week because it's his last chance and it's Slytherin. We definitely can't lose to Slytherin and allow them to win the Cup."

"Quidditch…" Madam Pomfrey muttered through clenched teeth. "Please continue, Mr. Potter."

"Erm..." Harry hesitated because he didn't know if he wanted to share the next part after the nurse's reaction.

"Out with it, Mr. Potter," her agitation at Quidditch clear as day.

"Oliver wanted me to practice avoiding two bludgers at once, because…" Harry paused knowing that the story about his injury would only draw more ire, "well, because it's Slytherin and they play dirty. So we did a drill where Fred and George bombarded me with bludgers as I flew through an obstacle course."

"Hmmph, of all the foolish things!" Madam Pomfrey shouted. "I'm going to be speaking to both Mr. Wood and your head of house. I don't know why the school allows you students to be so reckless on a broom."

She was really worked up. The young Gryffindor seeker was mentally scolding himself for opening a big can of worms.

"Then what happened," the nurse said with a chastising tone as though she already knew she would hate whatever he said.

"Oliver blew the whistle to change drills and we stopped. One of the twins randomly hit a bludger a few seconds after the whistle, but I had stopped paying attention and wandered into its path. They yelled a warning and I swerved away from a direct hit at the last moment, but I still took a hit in the ribs here on my right side. Hurts a bit to breathe actually."

"Bruised or broken ribs. Anything else?" Madam Pomfrey said grimly.

"I also wrenched my wrist trying to stay on my broom"

The Matron narrowed her eyes at Harry. "For some reason I don't think you'll ever learn how to take care of yourself. Please head to -"

BOOM - CRASH - CRACK

Poppy's train of thought was interrupted by a huge racket where the potions cabinet was located.

The nurse brought her hand to her forehead grumbling in frustration. "That girl is much too careless to handle potion vials. She better not have that boyfriend here again," the nurse said sharply to herself. Then she rushed to the back room while yelling at Harry over her shoulder, "Take a bed, Mr. Potter. I'll come treat you in a few minutes after I fix this mess."

Harry snickered to himself as he walked over to his usual bed in the out of the way dark corner. The curtains were even drawn so he wouldn't have to make much of a fuss getting them situated for some privacy. Harry shouldn't have assumed so much, but he was distracted by both the pain and the spectacle.

He could hear Madam Pomfrey yelling as he was about to pass through the curtains to get to his favorite bed in the hospital wing. He couldn't help his curiosity and slowly backed into the curtained area so that could continue eavesdropping on the ordeal. There was a clatter of someone escaping and Madam Pomfrey yelling at another student. "How many times do I have to chase your boyfriend out of my hospital wing, Miss Fawley?!"

The quiet corner containing his favorite hospital bed was dark and without anyone else to notice him, just the way he liked his visits here. Privacy was important due to everything surrounding his life. Harry sat back onto the side of the bed to settle himself down from the humorous scene he had just witnessed. He didn't want the Matron's ire redirected to him. What were those older students even thinking? How foolish of them to snog in the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey ruled with an iron fist.

Harry chuckled once more before swinging his legs onto the bed and getting under the covers. He abruptly sucked in air through his mouth and grabbed his ribs as the pain from his injury reasserted itself. Laughing and lying down at the same time had been a bad idea. The injuries and commotion had really fogged his brain.

He laid still once his pain subsided and decided to get comfortable. As he stretched, Harry felt another body in bed with his right hand. Was that someone's bum he was touching? "Oh, Merlin," he whispered as his own body immediately went rigid in fright. Suddenly he heard a girl's voice shriek, "GET OUT!" and he found himself on the ground.

Harry was lying on the cold stone floor in increased pain and confused about what had just happened. Nobody had been in this corner and he was supposed to be on the warm comfortable bed, not the cold hard ground. For some reason the incident earlier in the year with his Firebolt came to mind. Sometimes it felt like things were always being taken from him: his parents, his childhood, his privacy, his broom, and now his hospital bed. The confusion in his head was quickly overtaken by a spike of anger and aggravation at the girl who had snuck into his bed and physically forced him out. He put up with a lot of things in this school, but this would not be one of them. Not another thing taken from him!

Harry shot up off the ground and angrily shouted, "Hey, what are you doing in my bed?!"

A pair of burning blue eyes met the confrontation head on. Harry fought the urge to recoil from the intensity of those eyes and the fury in that face, which were clearly evident despite the dim light. Yet it was too dark to clearly identify this young witch that accosted him in his hospital bed and was now standing in front of him with clenched fists.

The witch had no such issues. Harry Potter? With her sister at top of mind and not caring who she confronted, Daphne raged at the intruder, who turned out to be Harry Potter of all people, "Your bed?! What do you mean 'your bed'? I was here first, you pervert! I always use this bed and you snuck in to grab my bottom and who knows what else while I was asleep! So much for Gryffindors being noble and honorable!" Daphne felt like a wild animal defending her territory from a rival.

He finally recognized the girl as Daphne Greengrass from Slytherin. They had only spoken a little, even when they had been paired in Potions class, and had only communicated thereafter via head nods or short sentences, such as a polite "Pardon" or "After you". Good terms when it came to a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. She always seemed preoccupied, was frequently injured, and kept to herself, never getting involved with Harry and always being nice in their brief encounters. She was a mirror of him in many ways, but he was in no state to linger on that observation. Nonetheless, there was no way he was going to let her attack his honor and take his bed. "No way! I'm not the pervert here, Greengrass. You're the one doing the sneaking around. You snuck into my bed just now. The bed I always use in the hospital wing. Did your Quidditch team put you up to this thinking I could be distracted by a pretty girl before the big match?"

Daphne's eyes grew wide at Harry's accusation and she whipped out her wand. "You disgusting boy! How dare you think that! I should hex you to London for spewing such indecent rubbish!" Daphne, whose wand tip was glowing, was fuming at the implication she was nothing but a sexual tool willingly being used to manipulate some random pubescent wizard over a game.

Harry inhaled loudly, the fog from his anger and injury clearing and his unintentional insult finally registering in his guilt-stricken mind.

He had to apologize to his Slytherin classmate immediately. Ashamed at himself, Harry said softly, "Look, Greengrass, I -"

Daphne didn't want to hear whatever excuse Harry Potter was about to say. A small part of her childhood had shattered. She never believed the Boy-Who-Lived stories, but still thought him likely to be more gallant and noble than the average young wizard, especially being a Gryffindor. Their polite and friendly interactions in class hadn't detracted from that idea. Unfortunately, he now appeared to be just like most other wizards his age - a low level misogynist - and that wasn't something she could abide. With a cold and low voice, Daphne cut off Harry's apology, "Just stop, Potter. We don't really know each other, but I never took you to be that type of wizard. Ugh, Harry Potter. You're just like all the other boys in this school who think of women as chattel. My mother warned me about wizards like you."

Harry stood there in shock and disbelief at what had just happened. That definitely was not how he thought of witches. Hermione would not be his friend if he did.

The dejected Slytherin witch turned from the frozen Gryffindor wizard to climb back into the hospital bed and rolled onto her side to face the wall. The tears were flowing and she was failing at hiding her pain behind coughs and sniffles.

Harry was mortified at the scene unfolding before him. He definitely didn't think these things about Daphne Greengrass or any other girl and he couldn't let her assume he did either. Harry felt compelled to apologize and wanted to let her know it was many other things - anger, fear, frustration - that led him to lash out at her. He stood there mutely for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, the Gryffindor seeker started his new apology, with a stammer, "Greengr-, erm, Daphne, I didn't know you were there and, erm-" but never got to continue because Madam Pomfrey began yelling as she stomped towards the curtained bed in the dark corner.

"What's all the ruckus over here?! You students have lost your minds this evening. First Miss Fawley and now..." Pomfrey abruptly stopped talking as she threw the curtains open and saw Harry standing next to Daphne's bed. The nurse did not look pleased at all and said stiffly, "Mr. Potter, what are you doing here? This bed was occupied."

The messy-haired boy froze. Madam Pomfrey stunned him with her scowl. His thoughts were jumbled and he didn't know how to answer. All he got out was a weak, "Erm…"

While Harry was faltering, the school Matron noticed her other patient crying. She shot a cold glare at Harry before turning back to the crying girl and delicately put a hand on her shoulder. She then said in her gentlest voice, "Daphne, what's wrong?"

There was no reply from Daphne except more sniffling.

Madam Pomfrey then turned to Harry again and used a cold, distant inflection in her voice that she hadn't ever used on him, "Mr. Potter, what did you do to my favorite patient?"

That stung a bit. Both the message and tone. Harry thought he was Madam Pomfrey's favorite patient.

Before Harry could reply, Daphne spoke up without turning around, "We had a disagreement and he was just leaving, Madam Pomfrey." She was barely able to maintain an even voice with the hurt waiting to burst through.

The nurse's ire from earlier was now squarely on Harry.

Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath and tenderly addressed the Slytherin girl, "Very well, Daphne. Please rest and I will get you some privacy."

She then turned toward Harry with daggers shooting from her eyes. "Out, Mr. Potter, out. I don't know what you did to Miss Greengrass, but I suggest you immediately select another bed and leave my patient alone. If you bother Miss Greengrass again, I'll make sure you get detention...this Saturday. Understood?"

For the briefest moment, Harry thought about protesting against the threatened detention. A panicked realization soon struck him when he thought about the significance of the day the nurse mentioned. No, he couldn't afford to miss another year-end Quidditch match and thus replied as quickly and politely as possible, "Y-yes, Madam Pomfrey."

The nurse eyed him with suspicion and replied curtly, "I need to finish cleaning the potions cabinet. Stay out of trouble." She then turned to leave.

"Erm, Madam Pomfrey," Harry uttered weakly. She turned back to him with pursed lips and narrowed eyebrows, which made him feel thoroughly self-conscious and caused his cheeks to redden with embarrassment. He swallowed and meekly said, "Er, c-could you fix my ribs and wrist?"

The hospital Matron said in an annoyed voice, "And I wonder why we have yet to do that." She then waved her wand and whispered the incantation and Harry's ribs instantly felt better after the brief sting from suddenly mended bones. The same was done to his wrist. "To bed for an hour, Mr. Potter, then out of my hospital. I'm cross with you," she said as she walked away without offering bandages to wrap around his ribs and wrist.

Harry gulped. He decided to occupy the bed adjacent to Daphne to make it easier to apologize and begin repairing this debacle. The 3rd year Gryffindor got situated and began whispering, "Psst, Daphne, I want to apologize for earlier."

There was no reply and he tried again, "Please let me apologize, Daphne. I feel really bad about everything. I misunderstood…"

A brief sniff came from Daphne's direction. A terse reply found its way to Harry, "No. I'm not ready to talk to you, Potter."

He could hear her momentarily readjusting on the bed, followed by some whimpering, and then there was silence, which was only occasionally interrupted by sniffs and quiet murmurs. Harry lay in bed alone with his thoughts. His emotions were in turmoil and he only had himself to blame. Daphne Greengrass had never done anything to him and had, in fact, always been polite and friendly. He felt ashamed he had offended her to such an extent.

To add to his jumble of feelings, Harry was enraged at himself for the three instances that evening where he had not been paying attention to his surroundings: 1) when he got hit by the bludger, 2) when he got in the same bed as Greengrass, and 3) when Madam Pomfrey surprised him. He couldn't risk being so careless with two murderers after him who had already proven they could get into Hogworts.

After fifteen minutes of sulking and quietly rebuking himself, a funny little teenage, hormone-fueled thought came to mind. Harry wished he had been able to touch Daphne Greengrass's bum under better, mutually agreeable circumstances. He had to admit that his eyes occasionally wandered over to her during meals in the Great Hall when he watched Draco Malfoy for suspicious behavior. Harry smirked and jokingly called himself an idiot, forgetting that the witch had cried herself to sleep just a few feet away because of his crude behavior. The thought would eventually resurface and come back to torment him in his sleep later that night.

Madam Pomfrey let Harry return to Gryffindor tower an hour later. She was so utterly displeased with him that she merely said "Time to go, Mr. Potter" when she opened the curtains around his bed and grunted when he said goodbye. Giving him nothing for the remaining tenderness from his injuries.

The significance of the Matron kicking him out of the hospital instead of keeping him overnight finally sank in. Harry realized that he had bollixed things up worse than originally thought and the anguish over his offenses came rushing back. Two people hated him right now because he had misdirected his pent up anger and frustration. Harry didn't want to be seen by anyone and put his invisibility cloak on to creep through the castle, the common room, and into his four poster bed without being seen. Sleep that night was no comfort to him.


A red-eyed Daphne was silently staring at a spot on the curtains that surrounded her hospital bed. She probably should have returned to the Slytherin dorms by now, but she decided not to go until after Potter left the hospital wing. Strengthening the desire to stay was the fact that Madam Pomfrey always allowed her the time and space to collect herself when she came for treatment, even having breakfast together after overnight stays. Normally Daphne would be processing her day and mulling over the next steps to help Astoria, but on this occasion she used the quiet time to reflect on the disaster that was the altercation with Potter.

"Potter," she grumbled almost inaudibly. Daphne was not pleased with her Gryffindor yearmate, who made her feel so insignificant. As if she would ever let herself be used over something as trite as Quidditch, which was long ago ruined by her despicable cousin Cassius Warrington and his snide remarks about Astoria's condition. The small voice in her head recognized that Harry Potter didn't know or understand the background and context of what he had said and done, but she was ignoring that feeling as she processed everything else.

As usual, Daphne had been minding her own business, that is, until Harry Potter barged into her space on the hospital bed and grabbed her bum. The nerve! Then a humiliating screaming match ensued followed by her openly crying.

It was all completely out of character for the image Daphne tried to portray and contradicted how she tried to operate: keep a low profile to avoid both inter-house conflict and delusions of grandeur pervasive within Slytherin house. Getting caught up in shenanigans would distract her from her priorities; therefore, Daphne tried to be either an afterthought or easily dismissed, all so that she could be left alone to her own devices. A true Slytherin, she thought as she smiled to herself.

Her time at Hogwarts was dedicated to learning as much as possible, spending time with her close friends and Astoria, and finding a way to improve Astoria's quality of life. Her parents focused their time, potions expertise, and wealth on searching for a cure to Astoria's inherited blood curse, which had manifested three years ago during the June before Daphne went to Hogwarts. Daphne had been 11 years old and Astoria had been 9 years old, just 2 weeks shy of her 10th birthday.

The two sisters had cried together for hours after the terminal diagnosis was given by the healers. Daphne made a vow to herself that night that she would keep her sister alive as long as possible. Since then all she wanted was to help her little sister manage her condition better by making her episodes less severe and the recovery a bit faster, like the Wolfsbane potion did for werewolves. Daphne wasn't searching for a cure, just a little relief for Astoria, which had proven elusive. Her family was well-versed in potions with a library to prove it. Daphne knew in her heart that a breakthrough would one day come for her project. Her little sister was counting on her.

If only Potter hadn't caused a scene...

Anything to do with Potter was a magnet for attention, which was the opposite of what she wanted. That Fawley girl who was helping Madam Pomfrey was sure to tell her Hufflepuff friends. Hopefully the news didn't make it down to Astoria and the other 2nd year Hufflepuffs. The Hufflepuffs were a friendly lot and the rumors would then take off about Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass and their tryst in the hospital wing, or Harry and Daphne's lover's quarrel, or how Slytherin Greengrass tried to seduce Gryffindor Potter before the Quidditch Cup's decisive match…AHHH, she shouted in her mind.

"It's all going so wrong," Daphne whispered to herself in the dark. The Slytherin boys would definitely begin pestering her more now, thinking she was now open to their advances. What would Astoria and Tracey think of the rumors? What about Blaise and Morag and Lisa? Or...oh Merlin, what would Potter think? Daphne was horrified at the thought of encountering Harry Potter again. Like her, he also tried to keep to himself and already looked either embarrassed or angry about the way people treated him. What a nightmare! She didn't have time and energy to deal with these things, and neither did Astoria, despite her vivacious personality.

Daphne thought about the argument with Harry Potter a little more. He was wrong to assume she was a tart trying to manipulate him over Quidditch, especially since he didn't even know anything about her. However, he seemed truly remorseful immediately after her reaction and did try to apologize multiple times upon realizing his gaffe.

Now that her mind was clearing, she decided she would accept an apology if Potter made another genuine attempt and didn't espouse more chauvinist ideas. Daphne had heard that Harry Potter was a Muggle-raised wizard, which, incidentally, boggled the mind. She had often noted his ignorance about certain things in the wizarding world and it was likely he didn't realize the depths of the offense to a pure-blood witch.

In truth, Harry Potter had accidentally touched on a topic that Daphne felt significantly vulnerable about and indignant over. Daphne often ruminated on why the wizarding world treated its witches poorly - its mothers, daughters, and sisters. Laws and customs strongly favored wizards over witches. She had seen first hand how horrible some marriages between pure-bloods were, many of them arranged. Witches also had middling professional opportunities. It truly took an exceptional witch in good circumstances to overcome some of the conditions. Being in Slytherin seemed to radicalize many wizards into hyper-patriarchal and old-fashioned thinking. On average, wizards in other houses were definitely tamer and more open and Daphne's mother made sure her daughters knew that from an early age.

No, she wouldn't hold this situation against Harry Potter, but she did want an apology. Potter was probably one of the wizards who could eventually change the situation for witches, if his attention was turned to the issue. Hermione Granger could probably apprise him of the situation, but she couldn't count on a Muggle-born to fully understand.

Going round and round in her head with a million thoughts, deeper and more complex than a 3rd year needed to think about so frequently, an exhausted Daphne soon fell asleep and would not wake up until morning.

A/N: The rest of the story will deal with the next day.