The forest beckoned her. The soft breeze rustled through the leaves on the trees, and she could see the barest glimmer of the night sky. The moon was bright, its gaze broken by the branches, casting shadows over the forest floor. She realized she was dreaming again, but was helpless, an outsider in her own body.
She made her way through the tangled masses of roots, pausing only slightly when they came into her path. It felt like she had been walking forever, but she wasn't tired. She felt peaceful, at ease. She smiled when she heard the whispers, a lullaby to her ears. They grew closer to her, and she stopped walking.
They were almost upon her when a scent hit her nose, shocking her out of her condition. It was sickeningly sweet, and like all the creatures on earth, she immediately recognized it. The stench of death, of rotting corpses, the symphony of decomposition.
She felt the weight of the world hit her shoulders. She had been walking forever, she was fatigued and sore, the soles of her feet aching almost unbearably. Be that as it may, only one word came to her mind.
Run.
She took off, and the whispers grew angry. They urged her to come back, asked her what she was doing, surely she knew that running was pointless. They would never grow tired, they would always be there, and they would catch her.
She cried out, screaming at them to leave her alone.
And they stopped.
A vision tore through her, and the whispers were back, only this time they were yelling. She saw a stream, snaking through the forest and cutting through the trees. She saw its clear waters tainted by the red cloud of blood. She saw a clearing, a rolling hill where a figure sat hunched at work. She saw a terrible smile, lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth.
And then she woke up.
Pansy was shaking her, concern in her eyes.
"Daphne! Get up!"
She wiped the crust from her eyes, and felt her heart pounding.
"You were having a nightmare again," Pansy continued. "You were screaming."
Daphne looked around. Light was shining even through the windows under the depths of the lake. She had woken up late, and all the beds around her were empty. She looked up at Pansy.
"It was awful," she said. "And I keep having it."
Her nightmares had continued almost every night, and it was always of that damned forest.
"I know," said Pansy. "You always wake us up."
The concern was replaced by a hint of annoyance.
"Aren't you close to Pomfrey? You should ask for some Dreamless Sleep Potion."
"I've been working at the Hospital Wing for three years. Of course I'm close with Madam Pomfrey." she replied. She'd told Pansy about it a lot, did she ever listen?
"Then ask her for some."
"I'll think about it." said Daphne.
Pansy's countenance changed again, to giddiness.
"Draco and I found a new broom closet last night."
Daphne wasn't in the mood for Pansy to regale her with tales of her carnal exploits. Thinking about it, she was never in the mood for Pansy to regale her with tales of her carnal exploits.
"Oh," said Daphne. "That must've been entertaining."
"It was," she sighed, a dopey smile on her face. "We even-"
"Shall we head to breakfast?" Daphne interrupted.
"Yeah, I guess."
The walk was an ordeal, with Pansy talking her head off. Daphne was consumed with thoughts about her dream, and was barely able to conjure a passing interest in Pansy's blabbering. Pansy seemed unconcerned, unbothered by talking to a wall.
Daphne couldn't shake her feeling of foreboding. Nothing good could come of such vivid nightmares. She barely paid attention in Divination, but if her dreams continued she might start. She had enough on her plate this year, and she hoped the dreams were nothing more than a passing inconvenience.
Her mood worsened when she saw the owl sitting by her spot on the table. She had missed the regular mail time, and her parents' eagle owl was notoriously cranky. The letter tied around its leg had her fathers formal script.
She dodged the scratch as she sat down, but was unable to avoid a sharp peck. She untied the letter, and sucked the cut on her finger as the owl flew away. She read the letter, and her expression gradually grew darker.
Daphne,
I hope this finds you well. I must stress that because this is your OWLs year, I want you to avoid any and all distractions, and focus entirely on your school work. This includes your sister. The name Greengrass carries weight in our world, and you must act befitting of it.
As my heir, I expect you to perform to the adequate standard of our stature. This means I will accept nothing less than perfection in your grades, and your OWLs scores. You must start thinking of taking over the family business.
I know you love your sister, and I do too. I can only imagine your despair of the circumstances, but a Greengrass can't bow down. We must accept that loss is a part of our lives, and as one stage ends another will begin. My grief cannot be expressed in words, but I must do what is right by our family.
Astoria will die, but you will live on to continue our name. Recognize that. Cast the circumstances out of your mind. Focus on what you have to do.
Father
He says that a Greengrass never bows down, but that was exactly what he was doing. She couldn't believe the gall he had, to say that about his own child. Her sister.
She tore the letter up on the table, and vanished the remains. She looked around to see if any of her housemates had seen her display of emotion. Pansy hadn't even paused, still vomiting meaningless words. The rest were finishing breakfast, their focus on food.
She cast a hateful glance towards Davis, and realized for the first time that she was sitting with someone. If her mood could get any worse, it did. Davis was sitting with none other than Harry Potter.
It felt like everything was piling on, and she could sink or she could swim.
"Like this, Professor?"
Harry twisted his wand and a burst of flame shot out, causing a shimmer in the air. His wand was like sword, the fire making up the blade white hot. He waved it through the air, battling an imaginary enemy.
"Perfect, Harry!" Dumbledore roared, struggling to be heard. "Now, cease!"
Harry twisted his wand again, and the flame vanished. He breathed heavily, wiping the sweat from his brow. Dumbledore looked at him, a proud smile on his face.
"I think that's enough for today," he said. "But can I interest you in a spot of tea?"
Harry nodded, and Dumbledore's office shrunk back to normal, the grand amphitheater closing in on them. When it was finished, they took their usual spots beside Dumbledore's desk. The old man stretched, his back cracking. He chuckled at the noise.
"I suppose I am belying my years." he said.
He waved his wand, and two cups flew off a shelf, taking their place in front of the two. With another wave, they were filled with black tea. Dumbledore then pulled some biscuits out of his desk. Harry gave them a funny look.
"I assure you, they're fresh."
"I didn't say anything, sir."
"You didn't have to."
Dumbledore plucked one of the tray, taking a bite.
"Ah, nothing beats a good custard cream."
He looked at Harry expectantly. Harry grimaced.
"Eh, I'm not very hungry."
Their eyes met, and the two burst out laughing. When the chorus left their voices, a comfortable silence enveloped them. It was broken by Harry.
"Professor, I've been meaning to ask you something."
"Yes?" Dumbledore eyes met his.
"Why weren't my housemates punished for attacking Davis? You must know what they did."
Dumbledore sighed.
"That's a hard question to answer, Harry."
"They used the Cruciatus." Harry deadpanned.
"I have read Madam Pomfrey's report."
"Then why are you letting them get away with it?"
"I can't do anything about it."
Dumbledore looked heartbroken. Harry felt hotness rising in his chest.
"Of course you can! You're the headmaster! You could expel them, or at the very least give them detention."
"Harry, can you tell me who is on the Board of Governors?"
"I know Malfoy's dad was, but wasn't he thrown out?"
"Theodore Nott's father is. Blaise Zabini's mother is. They would never allow me to expel their sons," said Dumbledore. "And Professor Umbridge, with the backing of Cornelius will overturn any and all of my decisions."
"So you would do nothing?" Harry hissed.
Dumbledore's temper flared, and Harry could feel the magic leaking off him. Dumbledore might have aged, but his power still dwarfed anything Harry had ever seen.
"Of course not," he said. "I will fight. As long as I possibly can."
"But you won't punish them."
"I am not infallible, Harry. It pains me, but I will not," he looked directly into Harry's eyes. "I know they do not deserve to be in this school."
"I cannot do anything," he continued. "But you can, Harry."
"Me?"
"You have already offered the girl your protection, have you not?" Dumbledore already knew the answer. "This year you will have more power than even me to protect my own students. It's disgusting to know, but it doesn't make it any less true."
Harry nodded. Dumbledore hadn't broken their eye contact. He could still feel the power radiating off Dumbledore.
"I want you to know that I will do anything and everything in my power to help my charges, including Miss Davis. And, including you. Do you understand?"
Harry knew that Dumbledore was right, but he didn't like it.
"Yes, Professor."
Dumbledore's gaze softened.
"I know it's hard, Harry. The next few years will probably some of the worst of your life, but I have the utmost confidence you will get through them. Try to find the silver linings."
"You don't know if I'm going to get through them, though." said Harry. "There was another thing I was wondering."
Dumbledore's smile was sardonic.
"Something tells me it will be as happy as our last topic of conversation."
Harry pulled the cloak out of his bag, holding it almost reverently.
"I was hoping to hear the history of the Hallows. Do we know why the cloak cursed me?"
"I have little information, but I can share with you what I know. We can make it apart of our sessions together," he said. "I don't think I will be able to give you a reason for the curse. The Hallows were likely created through ancient, dark magic. It might very well be that using the cloak requires that sacrifice. I don't know much about your family history, but it might be something to look into."
"You're as in the dark as me." Harry guessed.
"Not totally," said Dumbledore. "I do have some tidbits of knowledge I can share with you."
Harry let the matter rest. Dumbledore seemed to sense that he needed no more from him on the subject.
"I have a task for you." he said.
"And that is?" Harry asked, his lip curling.
He was satisfied with Dumbledore's answers, both on Tracey and the Hallows, but he wasn't willing to let him out of the bag just yet.
Dumbledore ignored his snark.
"I have a message for Neville, that I want you to relay."
Anger rose in his chest again.
"So you'll do something when it comes to Longbottom, but nothing for Davis?"
"That's not fair, Harry."
"What's the message?"
"He must have Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. To his friends, and to the rest of his classmates, it will be known as remedial potions."
Harry scoffed.
"We both know he'll tell Granger and Weasley."
Dumbledore smiled, for real this time.
"Isn't that what friends are for? To hold your secrets, to trust another person?" he glanced at the cloak still clutched in Harry's hands. Harry got the hint.
"I wouldn't call me and Davis friends, just yet."
"Yet being the key word."
Harry laughed, the tension between him and Dumbledore broken.
"The politician in you is coming out."
"Oh dear, I hope not." Dumbledore replied.
"How will Longbottom know to trust me?"
Dumbledore rose from his chair, and moved to Fawkes's perch, speaking to the phoenix. Fawkes plucked a feather from his shoulder, holding it in his beak. He placed it in Dumbledore's palm.
"Give him this," he said. "And Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Consider what I said. Trust is a gift that can be repaid a thousand times over."
He held the feather out to Harry, who took it from his hand. He placed it in his bag, along with a letter addressed to Longbottom from Dumbledore. Harry knew that was his dismissal, and walked from Dumbledore's office. He pulled the cloak over his shoulders and went back to the dorms.
Tracey looked at the locket, turning it over in her hand. She opened it, the picture dancing before her. Her mother's face, warm with a smile as she turned towards her, the tree in the background decorated with ornaments. Tracey's own smile, lightly peeking back.
She smiled, as the pleasant memory overtook her. She closed the locket, but the happiness remained. She kissed it, and tucked it back under her shirt.
She was alone in the dorm, the rest of her housemates eating breakfast in the Great Hall. She enjoyed the peace and quiet, uninterrupted by Parkinson's mouth and Bulstrode's snores. They'd been avoiding her, even Greengrass hadn't done anything the past few weeks. Word had spread quickly of her alliance with Potter, and what he'd done to the Slytherin boys.
"Mum, I made a friend." she whispered. She imagined the locket humming against her chest. "At least, I think I have."
She and Potter weren't close yet, by any means. Neither of them were well-versed in relationships outside of the ones they had with themselves. They spent time together, sat with each other at meals and in the common room, and practiced spells together. They'd talk here and there, but Tracey was hoping to improve on that. She'd never had a friend before, and now that she had one, she wanted a good one. Not just an acquaintance.
"I wish you were here. I know you'd have some advice for me."
Potter was mysterious, and he seemed to vanish sometimes. A lot of times. She didn't know where he went, though she could assume his hideout was deeper in the dungeons, if her attempt at following him was to go by. Even between classes, she wouldn't be able to find him, and he would somehow be sitting in the next classroom rearing and ready to go. It was just one of the many intricacies that came with being associated with Harry Potter.
"I love you, mum."
Tracey left her dorm room, and went towards the Great Hall. She spotted Potter at the table, far away from the other Slytherins. She slid onto the bench beside him, and started piling food onto her plate.
"Hey," she said.
"I saved you a spot," he replied.
"As if you needed to."
He smiled.
"It's the thought that counts."
"What's on the agenda for today?" she asked.
"Well," he said. "First we have Defense, a lovely class by the way, then it's off to Transfiguration, and then fuck all."
"I think that's the time meant for homework."
"Ugh."
Tracey started eating. The House Elves had done well with the bacon. Potter's face was scrunched up, and he looked like he was debating something. He released his muscles, and came to a decision.
"How long do we have before Defense today?"
"About half an hour."
"Are you okay with being late?" a ghost of a smile was on his lips. Tracey considered it.
"If we come up with a good excuse, sure."
"We could go for the classic staircases," said Potter. "Say they took us to the ninth floor instead of the third."
"I like the way you think," Tracey smiled. "I'm in."
Potter stood up, and gestured for Tracey to follow him. They left the Great Hall, and Tracey could feel the eyes of their housemates following them out. Potter stopped as the doors closed, and pulled a cloak out of his bag. The material seemed to shimmer, giving off a silver glow.
"That looks expensive." she said.
Potter looked at her.
"It's priceless."
He threw the cloak over his shoulders, and disappeared from her view. Tracey gasped. She looked at the spot where Potter had just been. It was an empty hallway.
"You have an invisibility cloak?" she spoke to thin air.
A disembodied voice talked over her shoulder.
"I do. Now get under it, I don't want us to be seen."
Tracey felt the cloth wrap around her, and she and Potter were under the cloak together.
"Forgive me for being surprised," she huffed.
"Be quiet," he said. "We're invisible, not silent."
"That could easily be fixed," she replied. "I know some good silencing charms."
He frowned.
"You know, I'd never thought of that before."
Tracey victoriously cast the charm.
"So what are we ruffling Umbridge's feathers for? The suspense is killing me." she said.
"I want to show you something."
"Could you possibly be more vague?"
"Try talking to Dumbledore. At least you won't have to wait very long to find out what's going on."
"You talk with Dumbledore?"
He smirked.
"All the time."
Tracey's mind was reeling. It seemed Potter was full of surprises. He began to walk, and the cloak briefly pulled on her before she joined his step. They walked a familiar path, and as they drew past the common room she knew they were going to the place she'd tried to follow him too. Warmth rose in her chest when she realized the dark corridors didn't seem as intimidating this time.
They'd gone past the point where she'd fought the Slytherin boys. The spatters of dried blood were telling.
"I'm surprised you got this far." said Potter.
Tracey took a breath.
"You've showed me why you were so hard to follow." The weight of the cloak comforted her shoulders.
"We're close, now." he said.
"You mean I almost made it?" Her words were bitter. She felt enveloped by memories she wanted to forget. The smirk on Malfoy's face, Nott's eyes glowing red from the curse, the realization that those were her screams.
"You'll make it now." said Potter.
They moved on, further into the dungeons. Tracey felt it before she saw it. A heaviness, that caused knots in her chest and sent shivers down her spine. The air seemed to cling to her, leaving a moist residue on her skin. It was a rotten magic, she realized. Her body stiffened, the unsettling feeling overtaking her.
Harry felt her reluctance, and chuckled.
"You get used to it." he said.
The corridor widened, and they were suddenly in a massive room.
"Welcome to the Hogwarts dungeons."
The room was sprawling, different tunnels leading every which way. Huge columns supported the ceiling in terrible arches, chains hanging down in a tangled spiderweb. There were tables with various instruments splayed across them, all looking like they could be used in the darkest forms of torture.
"I think I would've preferred Defense, Potter." she said.
"You don't mean that," he replied.
"You're right."
"And please, call me Harry."
Harry caught Umbridge's eye as he and Tracey entered the Defense classroom. He noticed with satisfaction the soft glimmer of disappointment. It turned to a hard edge of conviction, and Umbridge spoke.
"Mr. Potter, Miss Davis. How lovely of you to join us. That will be detention for both of you."
Tracey glanced at Harry, signalling that she would follow his lead.
"Yes, Professor." said Harry. "I'm sorry, we lost track of the time."
"Take your seats." said Umbridge. She looked at the class, who were watching with rapt attention. "Return to your textbooks."
"Professor," said Harry. "I seem to have misplaced my textbook."
Umbridge was beginning to look venomous.
"Mr. Potter, that is most unprofessional."
"Me too, Professor." said Tracey.
"First you both interrupt my tutelage," she breathed. "And now, neither of you possess the required materials for my class?"
"Yes, Professor." Harry deadpanned.
The class was silent, still paying attention to the scene unfolding.
"It seems as if the state of this school is worse than I was led to believe."
"Don't worry Professor, we can just summon them." said Tracey, reaching into her robes and displaying her wand.
"No!" said Umbridge. "I mean, no. That would be too dangerous. The risk of such a spell backfiring could be catastrophic."
"It's a fourth-year spell, Professor. Professor Flitwick taught us last year." Tracey continued. "It's really okay- Acc-"
"No! I said no magic!"
"Then maybe you could summon them for us, Professor?" Harry asked.
Umbridge took a deep breath.
"I don't think so."
"But Professor, surely it wouldn't be too dangerous if you did it. You're the most qualified person here." said Tracey.
"Fine!" said Umbridge. "Accio!"
Nothing happened.
"You have to name what you're summoning, Professor." said Harry.
Umbridge's cheeks turned red.
"Sit down. I'll read the book aloud for the entire class." she said.
Harry and Tracey took their seats, the eyes of their classmates following them.
"Books away," said Umbridge, staring down at her desk. "Where are we?"
Harry raised his hand. Umbridge sighed.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?"
"I don't know where we are, Professor. I don't have my textbook."
A vein on Umbridge's forehead popped.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy, where are we in the textbook?"
Malfoy quickly looked down at his book.
"Um, chapter three, page sixty-four."
"We're supposed to be on chapter five, Mr. Malfoy."
Granger shouted out.
"Page eighty-six."
"Raise your hand, Ms. Granger!"
"Oi! She was just helping you out!" said Weasley.
"I don't need help, Mr. Weasley. Detention," said Umbridge.
Weasley's face turned a hot shade of red. Longbottom lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Weasley wasn't going to be stopped.
"Why are we reading this book, anyway? It's useless." he said.
The class hummed in agreement.
"Whatever do you mean?" Umbridge asked.
"Well," Weasley looked around at his classmates. "It seems to me that we're not learning anything useful from this," he held up his book. "And that would mean it's useless, Professor."
"You think learning the situations in which defensive magic can be used is useless, Mr. Weasley?"
"If we're not learning any spells to defend ourselves, yes, Professor."
"That's a bold claim to make, Mr. Weasley. Let's see how the rest of the class feels about that. Class?"
Even Harry's housemates broke out in supporting Weasley's narrative. The chorus was loud, and out of Umbridge's control.
"Settle down! Settle down!" she said. When she realized it was a futile endeavor, she gave up. "Class is dismissed. Weasley, stay after."
The students filtered out of the room, Harry and Tracey included. Harry noticed Longbottom and Granger waiting outside. He turned to Tracey.
"I'll catch up with you."
Tracey nodded, recognizing the dismissal.
Harry had the letter and Fawkes's feather in the pocket of his robes. He waited for the hallway to clear. Longbottom noticed him waiting, and touched Granger's shoulder. Upon seeing him, Granger stiffened.
"What do you want?" she asked.
Even with his intervention with Malfoy, it seemed the trim on his robes would forever mark him as different.
"I'd like to talk to Longbottom. Privately," said Harry.
Longbottom gave him a once over.
"No." he said simply.
Harry had expected this. He reached into the pocket of his robes, and Longbottom and Granger drew their wands. Slowly, Harry pulled out Fawkes's feather.
"I have a message for you, from Dumbledore." he said.
"Let me see that," said Granger.
Harry turned over the feather. She turned it over in her hands, examining it.
"It's real, Neville."
"Why do you have a message from Dumbledore for me?" Longbottom asked.
"Because he wants to communicate with you." Harry replied.
"I'm sorry," Neville said sarcastically. "Why would you have a message from Dumbledore for me? He could just tell me himself."
"You think Umbridge would let you and him meet up?" Harry asked.
"No," said Neville. "But I don't think he'd send a message through you, either."
"Your loss." said Harry. He made to go away, but was stopped by Granger.
"Neville," she said. "The feather was real. He really could have something from Dumbledore."
Harry shoved the letter in her face and made off, speaking over his shoulder.
"Messages will come through me from now on. Try to get used to it."
Neville grunted.
Once he was out of sight, in an always familiar circumstance, Harry pulled on the cloak.
A first year. Daphne could usually tell when they were fresh. The slog of classwork hadn't yet outworn the novelty of magic, and each accident was treated as a crisis rather than normalcy. The tears running down the boy's face etched red marks into his cheek, and Daphne raised her hand to wipe them away.
"Hey, it's okay," she said. "What brings you to the Hospital Wing today?"
"I hurt my hand," said the boy. The trim on his robes were yellow and black, and he pulled back the sleeves to display his injury.
On the outside, there didn't appear to be anything wrong. On the inside, a quick diagnostic charm revealed that his bones were splintered beyond what could be repaired by spellwork. Daphne winced. Skele-Gro it was.
"Here," she said. "I'm going to cast a pain-reliever, if that's acceptable to you."
The boy vigorously nodded.
Daphne waved her wand in a gentle stroke.
"Torpent dolor."
The boy let out a sigh, and the tears stopped. Daphne was able to get a better look at him. He was a little on the pudgy side, strawberry-blonde hair accentuated by green eyes.
"I'll get you all checked in. I'm sorry, but it looks like you'll have to spend the night."
"Will I be ok?" he asked.
Daphne gave him a warm smile
"Of course you will be. It's nothing a few potions can't fix. What's your name?"
She pulled out the logbook, and dipped her quill in ink.
"Elliot. Elliot Sorenson."
So, not a pureblood. Daphne couldn't hold it against him. There was only one place where blood purity didn't matter, and that was the Hospital Wing. Daphne wanted all of her patients to get the best treatment possible. It was a matter of principle, with her honor at stake.
"Okay, Elliot. I'm going to bring you to a bed, and then I'll fetch Madam Pomfrey. She'll have you right as rain."
It had been a busy night. Multiple students had come in with various maladies, enough for it to be suspicious. She'd heard rumors the Weasley twins had something to do with it, but she couldn't be bothered to think about it. She enjoyed her work.
As Madam Pomfrey was checking Elliot over, Daphne's attention was drawn to a new occupant in the Hospital Wing. Messy raven hair hung over startling green eyes, that overlooked her as she approached.
By now, everyone in Slytherin knew what had happened in that dungeon corridor. She was taken back to all the blood, her friends' groans, and Davis's ghostly white skin. Harry Potter was what blood purists in Slytherin had nightmares about. He was friends with Davis.
And she was his potions partner.
She plastered a fake smile on her face.
"What can I do for you?" she asked.
He observed her for a moment.
"I need to see Madam Pomfrey." he said.
Daphne gestured towards Elliot's bed.
"She's occupied currently."
"Well," he said. "I can wait."
They stood in silence. Madam Pomfrey soon finished with Elliot, and came towards them.
"Mr. Potter! Here for your potions, I assume."
"Yes, ma'am." said Potter, brightening up.
"Do you mind if Daphne watches as you go through the regiment? She's under my tutelage, training to be a healer." Madam Pomfrey said proudly.
It looked like Potter couldn't bring himself to say no to the medi-witch.
"Sure," he said, eyeing Daphne warily.
"Great!" said Pomfrey. "Both of you, follow me."
Daphne and Potter were led to the potions cabinet, where Madam Pomfrey described each potion she was giving Potter and the correct forms of its use. Potter didn't show his previous discomfort, settling in nicely. It was Daphne who was uncomfortable.
She knew he was friends with Davis. He'd saved her from Daphne's friends, who were tipped off with a lie from Daphne. It wouldn't take a genius to figure that out. Did he know? Did they know what she'd done?
"Daphne, are you paying attention?" Madam Pomfrey asked.
"Yes, sorry."
She focused as she was to prepare each potion to be administered. Potter was watching her, and she looked for any hint of knowledge in his eyes. She thought she saw a glimmer, but his eyes were made of stone. She could've been fooling herself.
But maybe he did know. She'd have to be sure. She'd have to take the offensive.
As soon as they were done with the potions, Madam Pomfrey moved off to deal with other patients. Daphne knew this was her chance. As Potter stood up to leave, she grabbed his arm.
"Potter." she said.
He turned towards her.
"You hurt my friends."
His eyes were still made of stone.
"Did I?" he asked.
"Yes." Daphne stated. "What did they ever do to you? You couldn't leave their business well enough alone?"
Now he was annoyed.
"Get your hand off me." he said. She dropped her arm. "They deserved it."
"How?"
"Are you dumb? You were there. Nott cast the Cruciatus on her!" he hissed. "Though I wouldn't expect your type to have any moral values."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she arched her eyebrow.
"Well," he spoke slowly, as if he was talking to a child. "If you can stand to hang around those lot, enjoy it enough to call them friends, than you're nothing but a little sociopath."
"That's harsh, coming from the person casting dark spells on his classmates."
"Are you even listening to yourself? Hypocritical much?"
"Davis deserved it."
"Fuck off, Greengrass." he gave a cheery wave. "Guess, I'll see you in Potions, partner." he grinned.
He left the Hospital Wing, rushing out the door.
So he didn't know what had happened. That meant Davis didn't know what happened. That was good. But she still couldn't shake the feeling of ominous dread that had followed her throughout that interaction. She'd just made an enemy out of Harry Potter. She had to trust in herself. She knew what she was doing.
But the shiver of fear was back in her heart.
And she had Potions with him the next day.
"Daphne, you have to be careful."
Malfoy was looking into her eyes, as if begging her to listen to him. They were in the common room, preparing to head to their first partnered Potions lecture. She was surrounded by her friends, each of them warning her about the dangers of Potter. Daphne would have ignored them, but she knew their words rang true.
"What do I need to know about him?" she asked.
Malfoy looked hesitant.
"That he's dangerous."
"Is there anything I can use against him?"
"His mother was a mudblood," Nott spat. "My father went to school with her. Said she was an uppity one, too."
"I know that," said Daphne. "Is there anything I can use to defend myself? Anything he wouldn't want getting out? Something I could keep him in line with?"
Malfoy shook his head.
"He's kept himself clean. Except for second year, and until now, he hasn't been involved in any shenanigans."
"What do I do, then?" Daphne asked.
"Keep your head low," said Zabini. "Don't give him any reason to come after you."
But she had already.
Her first Potions lesson with him hadn't gone badly, but she had a feeling that would change. They hadn't exactly talked with one another, but that had suited her just fine. She had still been reeling from the aftermath of her friends' attack. With their interaction yesterday, however, things would most definitely be tense.
The walk to Potions was surprisingly long, given that both the Slytherin common room and the classroom were in the dungeons, but Hogwarts had a way of making the simple extraordinary. Her group arrived early, waltzing in to see Professor Snape already in position.
"Don't bother sitting next to each other," he said. "You will be sitting with your partners from now on." His gaze seemed to linger on Daphne while he spoke.
Daphne drew herself onto an empty stool. The table was big enough for two, with plenty of room to prepare ingredients. It would do nicely. She might not have to get too close to Potter after all.
Her friends had all scattered around the room, and she caught Pansy's eye. Pansy motioned to Crabbe and rolled her eyes. The rest of the class was beginning to come in, and soon Daphne was confronted by what she hadn't been looking forward to. Harry Potter sat beside her, and didn't even give her a sideways glance.
She watched as he got ready for class, efficiently setting up his cauldron and laying out the variety of tools they used in Potions. She could tell he was ignoring her, and the thought annoyed her. He should respect his betters.
He was staring at Davis, whilst she was getting prepared with Finnegan. Davis noticed him looking and flashed him a quick smile. Daphne thought she would be sick. What did these two halfbloods think they were doing? They had Slytherin in an upheaval, those in the right scared of being persecuted for upholding their values.
"Quiet!" Snape barked. "Let us begin. Now that those of us who suffer from less than adequate brains have been buoyed by their superiors, we shall see if you all perform to a higher standard."
Now he was really looking at she and Potter.
"Today will be a test," he continued. "For most of you, this will be a challenge. For the rest of you, I hope you are not too burdened by your impediments. As per usual, the instructions are on the board."
Daphne excelled at making potions. She was amongst the best in their class, competing with Malfoy for top spot. Granger was a shout, but as a Gryffindor she never really stood a chance, especially with the extra help Snape gave the Slytherins.
They were to make a Blood-Replenishing Potion, one Daphne could do in her sleep. Years of working in the Hospital Wing under Madam Pomfrey's tutelage had many benefits.
"Potter," she said. He barely acknowledged her with a slight nod. "You prepare the ingredients, I'll do the actual brewing."
He got up, gathering the necessary materials. He returned, but not without a sharp word.
"Are you sure you can handle the actual brewing?" he asked. "You heard Snape. Your less than adequate brain might struggle with the intricacies."
"I believe I will be the one with the impediment, Potter."
"Trust me, Greengrass. I know you have impediments."
Daphne was struggling. She wanted to curtail Potter's tongue, but she knew that she did it at her own peril.
"Potter, you are trying my patience." she spoke softly.
"Woe is me. Shut up and crush the porcupine quills, will you?"
"Do not tell me to shut up!"
"I'll do as I please," he said.
"Crush the porcupine quills yourself!"
"Can't handle getting your dainty little hands dirty?"
Daphne took a deep breath. She tried her best to put on a reconciliatory tone.
"Is this about last night, Potter? I think we might've gotten off on the wrong foot."
"How'd you figure that one out?"
Daphne shrugged.
"Will you apologize for anything you said last night?" Potter asked.
Daphne shook her head.
"I don't know exactly what I should be apologizing for." she said.
"Then you've already shown me exactly where you stand, Greengrass. Beneath me."
Daphne was seething. Just as she was about to retort, Snape walked by.
"Potter! Greengrass! Back to work!"
Daphne took a deep breath, and focussed on getting the water the right temperature. She's have to calm herself befor she ended up doing something she'd regret. But she couldn't just sit back as a halfblood said he was above her. She couldn't just let it be.
"Who do you think you are, Potter? Attacking people out of the blue, insulting your betters?"
"Out of the blue? I was defending my friend from your worthless band of Death Eater wannabes!"
"Davis is a bitch who had it coming." said Daphne.
Potter's face was beginning to turn red.
"If you insult my friend in front of me one more time, you will regret it."
"What are you going to do? Beat me like you did my friends? You're violent and dangerous, a menace to this school and society."
Potter laughed, which only served to infuriate Daphne further.
"Davis is probably your little whore, isn't she Potter? You're sleeping together, is that it?"
Without a word, Potter threw the unprepared porcupine quills into the boiling water. The potion exploded, splashing vile muck all over Daphne's robes.
"You bastard!" Daphne shrieked.
Snape was on them in a flash.
"Potter! What is the meaning of this? Twenty points from Slytherin!"
The entire class was now paying attention.
"Greengrass was insinuating improper things, and it distracted me from my work, Professor." Potter was calm.
Daphne remembered what Nott had said about Potter's mother, and before she could stop herself the words were out of her mouth.
"You're a disgrace to Slytherin! Taking after your uppity mudblood mother!" she yelled.
The class gasped. Potter looked at her with hatred shining in his eyes, but Snape beat him to it.
"Seventy-five points from Slytherin, Miss Greengrass. Detention, with me, for the next two weeks."
Daphne couldn't believe it. Snape had never taken points from her.
"Class is dismissed. Vanish your remaining potions."
A/N: Long time coming for an update. Updates will be infrequent due to college, but I have this entire story plotted out, and I've had this idea for too long. No need to worry about this being abandoned.