Chapter Three: Talking to Tracey
"You were out late."
Daphne didn't even have time to realise she wasn't alone before the accusation came her way. The corridors had been blissfully clear and the Common Room relatively packed when she entered. Malfoy had been entertaining a gaggle of younger students with his latest Quidditch chant, 'Weasley is our King', which he was planning on singing at their upcoming game with Gryffindor the following month. Daphne had slipped by unnoticed and headed straight for the girl's dormitory, hoping that she could just get into bed without anyone bothering her. She had been wrong.
"Well spotted," Daphne admitted to Tracey Davis. Tracey was sitting on her bed, a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages propped open on her lap. Her auburn hair was cut into a short bob, and her dark brown eyes the colour of melted chocolate were narrowed in suspicion at Daphne.
"And I didn't see you in Hogsmeade either."
"I didn't realise you were my mother, Davis."
"Where were you?"
"Hannah Abbott asked me to go to Zonko's," Daphne lied easily, mentally setting a reminder to tell Hannah that they had been doing just that when she next spoke to her in Ancient Runes. "And I didn't fancy listening to dear, darling Draco all day so I said yes. Happy now, or would you like me to tell you what I had for dinner too?"
Tracey glared at her. She and Daphne had never really spoken much, Tracey did her best to try and fit in with the others in a bid to make her life that little bit easier. Depending on what mood they were in, the others often liked to remind her about her 'disgusting' father. Simon Davis was a Muggle mechanic, and apparently quite a successful one if Tracey's clothes and owl were anything to go by.
"I heard you were with Potter," Tracey said quickly, teetering on the edge of excitement. It was lacking in the usual judgement that their house mates said his name, but Slytherins, unlike most houses, had a knack for lying.
"Really?" Daphne didn't even bother looking up from her trunk, in which she was fishing around for pyjamas, but her insides were boiling. How did people know already? She assumed they would find out sooner or later, but she had hoped for at least a few week's peace to get her story straight. A day. A bloody day. It would be that cow Marietta, she just knew it. Or even worse, Chang. Merlin's beard, she could just see the vile jealousy and spurned romantic feelings. Yes, it probably was Chang.
"Yeah, I overheard Cho Chang," there you, "telling her friends in the library. She said you were being all pally with him, Weasley and Granger."
Daphne's eyes darted around the room, checking that they were really alone. When she was sure they were, Daphne strode over to the door and tapped it with her wand whispering "colloportus" as she did so. A sheen passed over the door as it magically locked shut. Blood drained from Tracey's face as Daphne, now seething turned on her.
"What do you want?" she asked bluntly. It wasn't her finest moment, but she was already sick of people accusing her of utter drivel.
"Nothing," spluttered Tracey quickly, "I was just —"
"I'll tell you what you were, mistaken. Alright? Chang never saw us because we weren't together. I don't know why she's telling people she did, probably because Potter rejected her or something and she wants a nice little cover story to deflect attention."
"Then why did you leave dinner when he did?"
"Ever heard of a coincidence?"
"Yes, but — look, I'm not saying it's a bad thing. I mean, I know what they're doing. Some defence thingy, right? A club or whatever, because Umbridge is so useless."
Daphne didn't say anything, at times like these silence was better. Nervous people filled silences and usually with what they knew in an attempt to figure out if it was exactly what the other person wanted to hear.
"And, well, she is, isn't she? Umbridge. So if it's true, I wouldn't blame you. Really. I just, if it is true, and I'm not saying it is." Tracey added hurriedly, glancing at Daphne's wand. "I thought I'd ask because, well, it could be good. To, you know, hear what he had to say."
"Let me get this straight," Daphne said softly, so nobody passing the door could hear her. "You're asking if I went to Hogsmeade to meet with Harry Potter and his friends so we could start a secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group, and if I did do that, if you could join? You. Who the last time I checked, spends her days laughing at everything Malfoy says. Even when he's making stupid jokes about people like your dad."
"You think I like doing that?" Tracey snapped angrily. "You think I don't want to punch that git for what he says about Muggles? About my dad. I hate him. I hate them and their stupid parents."
"Then why carry on with it?"
"Because if I didn't I wouldn't last a second here and you know it. It's alright for you, you've already got the family name, people know who you are. You can get away with being all high and mighty. Me? They either forget I exist or think my mum's a Blood Traitor for shacking up with my dad, just 'cause he isn't a wizard. I mean look at us," she gestured around the room, "Parkinson is a cow, Bulstrode's, well, Bulstrode, Wormwood's dating Montague, Flint's brother was an absolute arse when he was here and she's somehow worse, and then there's you."
"And what about me?"
"You're more of an outcast than I am, if I hung about with you none of them would ever even look at me again."
"Spare me. Do you think that would really be so bad? This isn't it you know, this does end. Eventually. And then who cares what house we were in or who our parents are?"
"Easy for you to say."
"Of course it is, it's true." Daphne said shortly, her panic at being discovered making her patience shorter than she liked. "Hogwarts ends, Tracey. Three more years and we're out of here and we can do what we want, be who we want. You want to be a Quidditch player, right? Seeker?"
"How do —"
"I pay attention," Daphne quickly interrupted. "The point is there's trials every year for the smaller teams, go try out, and if you make it, who cares that you're a half-blood? But even if you don't, no-one will care. Only the really stuck-up pureblood families care and even they're a joke. Go back far enough you'll find a muggleborn or half-blood here or there. Every family needs them, if we didn't we'd all inbreed and where does that get you?
"Do you want to know why I don't bother with them, laugh at their dumb jokes and bully Gryffindors?" Tracey nodded. "Because when school's over I'll have earned where I end up while they'll have bought it. Gold runs out eventually. Draco can do what he likes here but things change. Lucius Malfoy might be on top now but before him it was the Blacks and then who knows? Who cares? And that's my point, Tracey. Family will only get you so far.
"You want to stop the wheel turning? You have to be the one to break it."
"I guess. I just, it sucks being one of the only half-bloods in here."
"Then make it suck a bit less by owning it, rather than hiding it." Daphne suggested. "Besides, we don't have to stick around with the people here. You'll be surprised who you can become friends with."
"Like Potter?"
"Nice try," Daphne smirked, admiring Tracey's persistence.
"I'm serious, if you were talking to him about this club, I want to join."
Daphne considered this for a moment, eyeing the girl before her with curiosity and more than a little suspicion. Five years of laughing along with Malfoy's jokes, trying her hardest to blend in with the crowd and then this. Out of nowhere. She had heard of people needing a little push but was this really enough?
She was saved having to make a decision by sounds of footsteps outside the door and then rattling of the handle. Casting a silencing look at Tracey that said, quite clearly, bad things would happen if she so much as told a soul about what had just happened, Daphne waved her wand at the door muttering the counter-charm quickly.
Pansy, who had been pushing against it, fell into the room.
"I think it's sticking," Daphne said calmly, her wand already cast onto her bed. Not that Pansy would notice anyway. "We should probably tell Filch, see if he can fix it."
"Yeah, you had, Greengrass." Pansy ordered nastily. Being Draco's little paramour really was doing wonders for her manners. Behind her Wormwood and Flint, from a respectful distance and saying nothing about the fact that Pansy had nearly face-planted the floor, headed into the dormitory.
Mindless chatter filled the room as the three girls took to their beds. Daphne didn't even bother paying attention, instead heading to the bathroom and getting ready for bed. The banal talking hadn't died down by the time she returned, which suited Daphne as she climbed into bed and pulled the curtains around her.
So Chang was telling everyone about what had happened. She couldn't very well mention everything, for whatever curse Granger had put on the parchment they had signed would signal she had blabbed. But she could say enough. It would only be a matter of time before Draco heard, the rumour mill worked quickly where Potter was concerned and likely even faster with the combination of inter-house fraternisation.
And it could be more than just Daphne. If Tracey was for real then Daphne could be about to cause a small revolution in Slytherin. She knew for a fact that Tracey wasn't the only half-blood, or even the only one who didn't like how things were done in Slytherin. A couple of the fourth years had taken to spending more time in the library with Ravenclaws than in their own Common Room, and Daphne was pretty sure Elliot Oswald was dating a Hufflepuff.
It could all be utter rubbish as well. It wouldn't be the first time that Draco had sent other people to do his dirty work and if word had gotten round to him already then Tracey was the perfect plant to try and gain Daphne's trust. In the same way you tried to gain Potter's, a small intrusive voice in her head said.
Yes, Potter. The opportunity had just been too good when she had glanced up and seen him storming out of the Great Hall that evening. Getting him onside was important if she was going to be able to attend their little meetings without too much hassle. Besides, she had been somewhat responsible for his foul mood. Even if she had been telling the truth. He was better than Chang.
She didn't know what she had been expecting, not really, but whatever it had been it wasn't the Harry Potter she had met by the lake. Quiet, but funny and kind-hearted, and… dangerous. Not in that brooding way that she read about in books that tried to make young girls convinced every man needed fixing. No, this was much darker. There was no doubt in her mind that getting on the wrong side of Potter was not a place you wanted to be. Ever since he had returned from the maze last year he had been different. He was definitely quick to temper these days, especially with Draco and Umbridge. If the rumours about his detentions were true.
Yet, he had accepted her, more or less. Although, the real tests were still to come. It was one thing talking to him, Weasley and Granger alone. It was quite another going into a room full of people who would hate her without cause. Fred and George Weasley had a long animosity with Slytherin, so did the Creaveys, and Longbottom wasn't exactly pally with any.
No, it was going to be tricky getting them to even tolerate her; but she'd be damned if she wasn't going to at least try. Memories of her mother swam to the surface of her mind, telling her that no matter what nobody else would give a damn about her. Even if they said they did. People were just stepping stones to get where you needed to go.
Daphne had often wondered if that was all her father had been. Was that what she was doing to Potter? Using him? There was an element of it, of course. He was going to be teaching her, she was technically using his skills to get better at defending herself. Was she really using him though? She liked him well enough from what little she had seen of him. They weren't friends. But so what? Everyone else had signed up for the same thing, to learn.
The weekend passed without much more excitement for Daphne, who spent most of Sunday in the library finishing off her Runes homework. Yet, even while she sat in peaceful solitude at her desk she was aware of the eyes following her and the whispers that followed her. People knew. She was going to kill Chang.
Thankfully she avoided Draco until the following day, but it was inevitable that he was going to descend on her. Sure enough, her breakfast Monday morning was interrupted by a loud voice.
"Is it true you've been hanging out with Potter, Greengrass?"
Daphne sighed, looking up into the superior, smug, easily-punchable face of Draco Malfoy. Five years, not a word or even a look in her direction. Five years. Gone. Well, all good things ended eventually, Daphne thought glumly.
"What's it to you, Malfoy?" Daphne asked, not even bothering to look up from her porridge.
"Nothing, I just assumed someone of your standing," he said the last part with a sneer, "would know better than to be talking to trash like Potter. Although, your father would probably disagree."
"Didn't you try and become friends with Potter on the first day?" It took everything Daphne had not to glance up at him. Merlin knew she wished she could, to see the smirk slide off his stupid face. But she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing she cared. "Oh that's right, you did. And, please do correct me if I'm wrong, but he told you to bugger off."
"Watch your mouth, Greengrass." snapped Malfoy hotly, and she could just picture his cheeks flushing a ting of pink.
"I'll take that as a yes then," said Daphne, helping herself to another spoonful of porridge. "But this is all a moot point, because I wasn't talking to Potter. Whoever told you I was, they got it wrong. Now, I'd like to finish my breakfast, if that's everything?"
"I wouldn't pin your hopes on Potter. He's in for a fall, and if you're not careful so are you."
Daphne didn't say anything and only let out a sigh when she was sure he had gone. This was not good. She had hoped that Malfoy would find out in a few weeks, but it had only been a couple of days and already he was hounding her. The only benefit was that he couldn't prove anything. The rumour mill might be working overdrive, but there was nothing actually connecting her to Potter. Yet.
"What did Malfoy want?"
Couldn't she eat in peace?
"Nothing, Tori, just a stupid rumour."
"What, the one about you dating Potter?" Astoria Greengrass, Daphne's younger sister, asked as she took a seat opposite her. Where Daphne had inherited her father's blonde hair, Astoria's was dark brown like their mother's. Tied back in an effortless ponytail, Astoria was the picture of natural beauty. Despite being a year younger than Daphne, Astoria was already taller than her and had perfect skin while Daphne was in the midst of dealing with mild acne and burned whenever she went outside for too long.
"Dating?" Daphne repeated incredulously.
"Yeah, you're not then?" When Daphne stared at her, Astoria just shrugged, "Stranger things have happened. Compared to some of the other stuff people say about him this is pretty normal."
"Who told you I was dating him?"
"Penelope Arnold, she's in my year. Shame you're not, he's good looking."
"Is that all you think about?" Daphne asked, rolling her eyes.
"It's one thing I think about," Astoria shrugged, "mind you, not sure if it's worth all the fuss. You probably did the right thing."
"You know he didn't ask me out, right? And I didn't either. We aren't dating."
"Yeah, but it was fun to imagine. So what did Malfoy want, if he didn't think you're sleeping with the enemy?" Astoria asked, wiggling her eyebrows and smirking at her sister.
"It's times like these I forget we're related," Daphne muttered bitterly. "And he just wanted to warn me off talking to Potter, that's all. You know what those two are like."
"He's probably right, remember what mum said about his hearing in the summer?"
Yes, Melissa Greengrass had been all too keen to talk about Potter's hearing when she returned from her Wizengamot duty seething about his acquittal. It had been weeks before their mother had stopped complaining about Potter, and instead told them how good it was that the Ministry was finally getting a handle on Dumbledore thanks to Fudge and Umbridge.
'About time, he's losing his marbles. I've said it for years.' And so on. It had been draining trying not to remind her that only the year before she had been singing Dumbledore's praises for restarting the Triwizard Tournament.
"Sounds like a bit of nutter to me. I mean, Dementors in a Muggle village. Next he'll be saying You-Know-Who's going round handing out Christmas cards."
"Wouldn't know," Daphne said calmly, resigning herself to the fact that she was going to be unable to finish her breakfast without her sister's company. "Not actually dating him, remember?"
But that did little to get Astoria off the topic of Harry and for the rest of breakfast Daphne was forced to listen to her sister's various hypotheses about the Boy Who Lived. When she started repeating what Draco said about him being an arrogant, attention-seeking arse, Daphne had to try very hard not to correct her. The boy she had been consoling by the lake was far from anything Draco conjured up.
The rest of the day did little to improve as news of Umbridge's latest educational decree spread across the school. All clubs, teams, gatherings were to be cancelled pending confirmation that they should continue from the High Inquisitor and anyone caught taking part in an illegal club would be expelled. She knew. The Hog's Head, honestly.
Transfiguration did nothing for her mood as she failed to silence her raven and by the time they arrived for Potions, Daphne was in such a foul temper that she ignored everything going on around her and was only pulled back into the moment by Longbottom lunging at Draco. Whatever Draco had said clearly upset Longbottom so much that Potter had been forced to grab his friends by the arms to pull him back.
The churlish outburst was met by Professor Snape who, detesting both Longbottom and Potter, gladly took Draco's side. They filed in and Daphne's heart sank as she saw Professor Dolores Umbridge, her clipboard in her hand, patrolling the classroom with a spring in her step and a simpering smile on her toad-like face.
Daphne took her usual spot at the very end of the Slytherin bench and was surprised to be joined by Tracey Davis, who usually sat with Draco and his chums.
"You don't mind if I join you, do you?" Tracey asked in a hushed whisper as the rest of the class got about finding their seats.
"Not at all." She could think of no reason why she should reject Tracey's clear attempt at friendship, even if it was laced with a desire to join Potter's club. "What happened with Longbottom?"
"Malfoy said something about people having their minds messed up and going to St. Mungo's," Tracey shrugged, "taunting Potter as usual, not sure why Longbottom went for him though."
It was very unlike Longbottom to fling himself into a fight, let alone one he hadn't even been involved in. The rest of the class were discussing Longbottom's little escapade too, until Snape began his lesson. They were working on the Strengthening Solution, a notoriously difficult and fiddly potion. Daphne loathed potions. No matter how hard she tried something in her mixtures always went wrong. This was not helped by the fact that as soon as Snape told them to start, Umbridge began winding her way through the Slytherin students, asking questions.
"Do you find Professor Snape to be a good teacher?" Umbridge was asking Pansy Parkinson as Daphne peered valiantly through the various different columns of smoke at the board, trying to make out what the hell her next step was.
"He's fantastic," Pansy said and Daphne had to resist snorting derisively. As far as she knew Pansy had never made a good potion in her life and Snape, for all his skill and love of Slytherin students, did little to actually show them where they went wrong in class. "One of the best in the school."
Umbridge nodded, making a show of what Pansy said on her clipboard before turning to Daphne's bench. Her heart sank.
"And do you, Miss?"
"Davis," Tracey said, nervously.
"Do you think that Professor Snape is a," Umbridge slowly checked her notes, very deliberately before letting out a simpering little laugh, "fantastic teacher?"
"Well," Tracey began, looking around to see if Professor Snape was anywhere nearby. "He's pretty good, I guess. I mean, it'd be great if…" Pansy was glaring at her from behind Umbridge and Daphne was sure that had Tracey been sat nearer to her she would have had her foot crushed by Pansy. "If he could, sometimes, maybe, show us what we were doing wrong."
"I see," Umbridge nodded, making a very careful note on her clipboard. The rest of the Slytherins were staring in a mixture of shock and disgust at Tracey as Pansy relayed exactly what Tracey was saying to them.
"She's got a point," Daphne chimed in, grateful that for once someone in her house was prepared to look past Professor Snape's blatant favouritism and actually examine him as a teacher. "I still don't know what I did wrong last week."
"And have you thought," Umbridge said with that disgustingly false voice, her eyes flashing as she turned to Daphne. "To ask Professor Snape what you did wrong?"
"He doesn't really like questions," Daphne replied simply, refusing to back down as Umbridge did her best impression of someone being intimidating.
"And your name is?"
"Daphne Greengrass."
"Well, Miss Greengrass, I shall take your opinions into consideration." Umbridge smiled sweetly. For a moment, Daphne had been expecting a tirade or castration, but the frown that had been about to crease across Umbridge's brow had vanished at the sound of Daphne's last name. It did not take a genius to know that Umbridge knew her mother.
When Umbridge had vanished, Tracey whispered in a low voice: "What was that? I thought she was going to kill you for interrupting then."
"She knows my mother," Daphne muttered bitterly. It was one thing getting through on her last name alone, which Daphne abhorred anyway, but it was quite another being reminded that her mother and Umbridge were probably friends. "By the way, nice one about Snape. You're right, he never tells us anything."
"You forgot the Salamander blood," Tracey said quickly, eyeing Daphne's potion which was starting to turn a nasty shade of green.
"What? Oh." Hurrying to add the forgotten ingredient, which Daphne realised had been on line three and she, like an idiot, had gone on straight to line four. "Thanks. See this is what I mean. I'm useless at this stuff."
"It's just like cooking but with a cauldron and less Jamie Oliver."
"Jamie who?"
"He's a muggle chef, dad loves him." Tracey explained, before adding, "it's counter clockwise, not clockwise."
"Since when were you a master potion maker?" Daphne asked incredulously, doing exactly as she was told. If she kept this up she was going to be on course for her first ever half-decent potion.
"I told you, it's like cooking. Mum cooks with me all the time when I'm home, dad too sometimes if he's not had a long day."
Daphne suspected that this was the first ever time Tracey had spoken about her parents properly to anyone in Slytherin. It was the combination of the excited smile and the looks of derision from over her shoulder that gave it away. The longer the lesson went on, the clearer it became that Tracey had just been removed from Draco's band of misfits. And for what? Telling the truth, not kissing Snape's boots just because he liked to bully Gryffindors as much as they did. It was pathetic.
"You know they're going to hate you for this?" Daphne asked in a low whisper so Pansy, who was now ignoring her potion in an effort to listen to their conversation. "Turning in Snape like that."
"Well, it's like you said isn't it? Might as well own who I am. Besides, it's true, he could tell us where we're going wrong a little bit. We aren't going to be perfect straight away. Well, not unless you're Granger anyway."
Granger's cauldron was emitting a light blue vapour, while Potter's had started belching out a dark black smoke. Not that he seemed to notice. His gaze was fixed intently on Umbridge and Snape, who was currently being quizzed by the High Inquisitor.
"We can't all be good at everything," said Daphne, who turning back to her cauldron was pleased to find that it was a slightly darker blue than Granger's. Tracey's was pretty much perfect too, if Granger had mastered the perfect potion — which knowing Granger she had. "You're amazing at this."
Tracey smiled, "thanks. There's some stuff I can't do but this isn't too bad."
"Speak for yourself," muttered Daphne darkly, before resuming her squinting at the board.
"It's better if you copy it down first," Tracey said, sliding a piece of parchment towards Daphne that had all of Snape's instructions hurriedly scrawled across it in Tracey's messy handwriting. "That way, you don't have to keep looking up all the time."
"You're a lifesaver," Daphne grinned and together she and Tracey carried on through the rest of the lesson without little interruption and by the time they were ready to bottle up their potions for Snape's inspection, Daphne had something that was almost exactly like what she had meant to make. Snape was so impressed that he awarded her ten points, before commenting that he expected her to keep this standard up in their next lesson.
Tracey spent the rest of the day with Daphne, accompanying her in Charms, which went rather well, and joining her for dinner. This elicited a number of stares from higher up the table, but Tracey either did not care or did not want to look at them. Instead, she spent the entire meal answering Daphne's questions about Muggles as her father wasn't even a muggleborn and had only found out about magic once he had married Tracey's mother.
In return, Daphne told Tracey all about life as a pureblood. It was wonderful to just sit and talk to another Slytherin at dinner without expecting a selfish brag or question about her father. With so many of the others it was about family, who was responsible for what. Daphne could play that game if she wanted to, but that was just the thing. She didn't want to.
Maybe Tracey could be more than just tagging along to get to Potter, but that thought was still at the back of her mind. One of the few half-blood Slytherins would have to be incredibly ambitious after all.
Daphne soon found herself becoming friendly with Tracey Davis. She was surprised to learn that Tracey was not the sheep she had made out to be, rather she had been hiding her own ambitions for the sake of protecting them. Malfoy would never give up his spot on the Quidditch team. So Tracey had simply not confided in them, or anyone, until she and Daphne had started talking.
The more they spoke, the more Daphne began to understand why Tracey wanted to join Potter's group. Defence Against the Dark Arts was a key subject for every fifth year and she, like Daphne, did not want to fail her exams. Unlike Daphne, though, Tracey was not wholly sold on the fact that Potter wasn't lying about You Know Who.
"It's not like we saw anything, is it?" she had said when the two had been writing a particularly challenging Transfiguration essay.
"So how do you think Diggory died then?" It hadn't been a jab, Daphne was always genuinely curious when people said this. It was one of the things she herself had got held up on over the summer. Not wanting to believe He Who Must Not Be Named was back was one thing, but if he wasn't then what happened to Diggory? It was a question that had no real answer. An accident? Maybe, but then why say You Know Who was back. It was such an outlandish story. The only alternative was it was a lie, to cover up the fact that Potter himself had killed him, but that didn't make much sense either. Potter, for all his faults, didn't strike Daphne as a cold-blooded killer.
No, as much as she was loathed to admit it, Potter was telling what he thought was the truth. You Know Who, or someone very much like him, had attempted to kill him and murdered Diggory. Whether it was actually the man himself or a copycat, Daphne couldn't be sure. Someone who benefited from the world thinking the most evil wizard had returned, though Daphne was hard pushed to think who that could be.
Tracey had faltered, much in the same way that Daphne had done so many months before. Faced with the bare-faced logic of it all, it was hard to ignore the one possibility that made the most sense. No matter how much they wanted to disregard it.
"It doesn't matter anyway. Let's just get on with this." Daphne had said, not wanting to push away the only semblance of a friend she had. Tracey was the first person who had actually tried to bother with her from Slytherin. That wasn't to say she wasn't friendly with any Slytherins, but in her five years at Hogwarts Daphne had spent a lot of it alone or with people she suspected simply tolerated her. Prejudice, she had grown to realise, was difficult to shift.
A fact which Draco and his pals were making all too clear. No longer having to pretend to like Tracey, they had taken to ignoring her whenever she walked into the Common Room. Unless they fancied whispering 'you're no better than a mudblood, Davis' at her as she passed, which Tracey answered with only stony silence. Daphne was surprised to notice that this wasn't everyone though, merely Draco's inner circle. Most of Slytherin house just left them alone, and a couple even nodded at her stiffly as they passed her in the corridor. The trouble was, it was difficult to see outside their year when they were forced to spend every day with them. But the more Daphne looked, the more she realised the Slytherins below them were not as bad as she had first thought.
Every Ancient Runes lesson Daphne attended she would catch the eye of Hannah Abbott, or Granger, hoping to see some sort of plan being formed. Whenever Hannah noticed, she would just smile and look bemused, and Granger would give a little shake of the head. That was until one Wednesday morning. The weather outside was torrential and that morning Daphne had heard several teams moaning about the fact they couldn't play Quidditch. After Professor Babbling's particularly difficult and complicated lecture on the Rune of Animation, one which raised the dead nearby and rallied them to attack intruders, Hermione deliberately dawdled packing up her bag and glanced at Daphne pointedly and then at a scrap of parchment underneath her desk.
Daphne nodded and the girl, satisfied that her message had been transmitted, left the room quickly in an effort to not be seen walking out with Daphne. When Daphne was sure Professor Babbling wasn't looking, she snatched up the note and headed outside. Only reading it when she was sure nobody could see her.
8 o'clock tonight. Opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. There's a wall, walk in front of it three times and think about the Defence Club. Don't be late and destroy this note.
Barnabas the Barmy? What on Earth was Granger talking about? Daphne turned it over, checking to see if she had missed anything. But that was it. What use would walking in front of a wall be? She knew that Hogwarts had plenty of secret passageways, but they involved finding the trigger to reveal them. Maybe this was that passageway's trigger, she supposed. It would be awfully cramped squeezing over twenty people into one passageway.
"We still on for later?" Tracey asked when Daphne joined her at dinner that evening.
"Sorry? Oh, Charms. No, sorry. Something's come up." Daphne said lamely, taken by surprise. She had completely forgotten that she and Tracey had plans that evening.
"What happened to we've got to stay on top of our work if we want to do well?"
Daphne toyed with the idea of telling Tracey, or at least showing her the note. She wasn't stupid enough to destroy it right away. Granger could be sending her on a wild goose chase, she could have changed her mind and lied about where they were actually meeting. In which case, Daphne was not above showing Potter what she had, hypothetically, done.
On the other hand, the Slytherin table wasn't exactly the most private of places and until she had spoken to Potter about whether or not Tracey could join she didn't want to go dishing out information she shouldn't. The memory of the parchment was still fresh in her mind and she wasn't about to accidentally prove them all right. No matter how much she had begun to trust Tracey.
"I'll catch up," Daphne said simply. She had yet to actually tell Tracey she had been right about her and Potter. A combination of poor timing and trepidation over actually trusting Tracey had kept her lips sealed on the entire affair. Tracey was still an unknown quantity in many respects. Trusting her with a secret Daphne would rather be kept until she was ready was not something she was prepared to do.
"I'm sorry, I promise I won't bail tomorrow. It's just important." A crestfallen look crossed Tracey's face but she nodded a little sullenly. Daphne had the feeling she knew why. They had been friends a matter of weeks, and already Daphne was backing out of plans with no explanation. Not exactly great friend behaviour.
"I really am sorry, if I could get out of it I would." A little trust goes a long way. That's what her father had said a long time ago. Plenty of rumours were already flying around anyway and they weren't going to stop anytime soon. Why not? A multitude of reasons leapt to Daphne's mind, all ready to be examined and cross-examined, but she ignored them. Her father's voice rang clearly in her head. Trust.
"Look, it's that thing we talked about." She leant forwards lowering her voice. "Hogsmeade."
Suddenly Tracey's eyes widened and she looked up eagerly. "You mean?"
"Yes, alright, yes. Keep your voice down."
"I knew it!" Tracey whispered and yet still managed to exclaim eagerly. "I knew I was right. I want to —"
"No."
"Daph, c'mon. You get to go."
"Because I asked," Daphne explained, "it's not my choice who they let in. Besides, they're iffy enough about one Slytherin as it is."
Tracey huffed but didn't argue. The question of the club wasn't discussed again as the two girls instead chatted about the different clubs Tracey was looking at writing to for tryouts. Any of the major clubs were out but the Caerphilly Catapults, Falmouth Falcons and Wigtown Wanderers were all looking for people; and if that failed there was always the Chudley Cannons.
After dinner, Daphne and Tracey headed to the library as originally planned. Five minutes later and with a knowing smile and message of good luck from Tracey, Daphne left the library in search of the seventh floor. It didn't take long to find the painting of failed troll taming mentioned by Granger. She stared at the wall. It was just a wall, blank and uninteresting.
Walk in front of it three times and think about the Defence Club.
Trying not to think about how ridiculous she was going to look, Daphne began pacing in front of the wall. I'm looking for Harry Potter's club. I want to learn how to defend myself. On her final lap she turned to face the wall. At first, nothing happened and she was about to storm off cursing Granger's name when a gigantic door appeared before. Its dark wood was polished to a gleam. Daphne stared. This was no secret passageway. It was a room. A room she had never heard of.
She reached out and slowly opened the door, unable to stop the smile that spread across her face. The room was illuminated by torch light, much like the depths of the castle and the Slytherin Common Room. The walls were lined with bookshelves, which were practically bursting under the weight of books they contained. Cushions sat in rows on the floor and against the far wall sat a variety of instruments Daphne had only ever read about.
At the centre of the room were Potter, Weasley and Granger, along with a bunch of other Gryffindors. Chatting to Harry animatedly was Dean Thomas and next to him were Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom.
Not the welcome party Daphne would have wished for. She felt the smile slide off her face. The chatter died as everyone turned to look at her.
"Take it this is the right place?" Her heart was in her mouth. Longbottom was gaping at her while Patil and Brown were actively glowering at her, the mistrust etched across their faces.
"Daphne, hi," Potter smiled. Daphne? It was the first time he had ever called her anything other than Greengrass. "Er… everyone this is Daphne Greengrass. She's —"
"A Slytherin." Brown finished sourly.
"What's she doing here?" Parvati asked, equally spitefully. Daphne was not surprised. Brown and Patil had a reputation for being the biggest gossips in Gryffindor. Trust them to believe every single vicious rumour they'd heard about Slytherins. They probably thought she was a Death Eater and kicked House Elves for fun.
"She wasn't at the meeting."
"Actually I was," Daphne corrected Brown coolly. Any nerves she had felt were instantly quashed by the girl's tone and replaced by righteous anger. They didn't even know her and already she could feel the resentment coursing through them. "I was at the bar. I heard everything Harry said and if I remember rightly the invitation was extended to anyone who wanted to learn, Lavender."
Daphne could not help but say the girl's name through gritted teeth.
"And we said yes," Granger added, her voice a little higher than normal. Lavender looked like she was about to argue but she was cut off by another voice.
"Got a problem with that?" It was not Potter who leapt to Daphne's aid, but Weasley. He nodded stiffly at Daphne, who offered him a grateful smile in return. When neither Brown nor Patil objected, he nodded again, as if prompting himself to speech. "Good. Harry's said she's alright to join, so she can join."
As if it was as simple as that.
There was an awkward silence as the majority of the room continued to eye Daphne with suspicion or, in Longbottom's case, fear. She could not blame the boy. He had spent most of his Hogwarts life being bullied by Snape, Malfoy and a load of other Slytherins who liked to point score with Gryffindors. That was always the thing that baffled Daphne. They acted like they were the injured party, but half the time they started it.
"What were you saying about this place, Harry?" Dean asked, clearing his throat loudly in an attempt to try and steer the conversation back on track.
"Oh yeah, so it's called the Room of —"
But he was interrupted by the door opening again. Fred and George Weasley, and the Quidditch commentator Lee Jordan, had arrived. Identical grins spread across their faces and Lee let out a low whistle.
"Y'alright, Harry," said one of the twins. Fred or George. It was really impossible to tell.
"Nice place. Did you bring these books, Hermione?" The other one asked, good-naturedly. Granger scowled at him, but nevertheless eyed the collection with curiosity and Daphne could see she had already snatched up one book and had it held tightly to her chest.
Deliberately moving to the back of the group Daphne let the conversation continue, not looking at anyone and feeling the glares of Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown burning into the back of the skull. This was not a good idea. She was reading the stems of the books, trying to see if there was anything that would be especially helpful when she heard a voice at her side.
"Ignore them," it was Potter, an apologetic frown on his face. "It's not your fault, we should've warned them really, but Hermione didn't think it was a good idea telling people in case they blabbed. Enough people have been asking her if we're dating as it is."
"Like Chang you mean? You do know it's her that's been telling people I talked to you, that's how that stupid story started."
"Yeah, Ginny told me." There was a bitterness in his voice that hadn't been there the last time they had spoken about Chang. "Sorry about that. It's why I thought Hermione should give you a note, that way it doesn't look like we're trying to pass messages to each other."
"Ashamed of me, Potter?" She clutched at her heart in mock outrage.
Potter smirked. Behind him another group of people had entered the room and Granger was busy explaining exactly what the room they had entered was.
"Listen, I've got a favour to ask. I've got a friend, Tracey Davis. She's in our year, and she wants to join. I didn't tell her, by the way, she heard the same way I did. It's up to you lot, obviously, but I thought I'd better ask. She really wants to join."
"You trust her?"
"I do," Daphne nodded, taken aback by the consultation. It felt very strange that Harry Potter of all people asking for her opinion, like it mattered. In fact, it was odd that instead of greeting the others he had chosen to talk to her. Maybe their chat by the lake had meant more than she first thought.
"I'll be honest, she used to hang around with Malfoy's lot but she's a half-blood. I don't think she had much choice."
"I thought half-bloods were okay? By pureblood standards."
"Generally they are," Daphne nodded, resisting the temptation to correct his assertion that all purebloods hated Muggles. "But it's a bit different when your dad's a Muggle and your mum's a blood-traitor."
"Right."
Daphne waited for an answer that didn't come, his eyes were locked on the small throng of people that were now gathered around Granger and Weasley. The Weasley twins were off to one side, trying to get cushions to fly across the room and hit their brother in the back of the head.
"You can say no," Daphne informed him, "it's allowed. I won't be upset."
"I know."
"Just checking."
"I'm not going to though," Potter said, "just thinking how they're all going to react. Then again you're already here and they've not jinxed you yet."
"There's time," Daphne muttered darkly. Despite Weasley and Granger's best efforts to keep everyone entertained, there was plenty of muttering going on and furtive glances being sent in her direction. It hit Daphne that this must be how Potter felt every day. How did he deal with it?
"You'll be fine. If you can get Ron onboard, I'm sure you'll manage to convince everyone else. Just be yourself. What is it? Your family motto. Quia et something or other."
"Te ipsum mundo sequentur," Daphne finished, "point taken. Now, haven't you got a lesson to teach?"
"Probably," Potter conceded, though he didn't move. His jaw was clenched as he surveyed the room, as if he was finally realising exactly what he had signed up for.
"You'll be great. Just be yourself." Daphne repeated, smirking.
Potter laughed in spite of the nerves that clearly threatened to overwhelm him. It was strange seeing him nervous. Like seeing a curtain being pulled back on the many different preconceptions she had about him. The more she learned, the more she realised that nobody in the school outside of Granger and Weasley, perhaps a few others, really knew him at all.
"Right," Potter said loudly, striding forwards to the gathered crowd. "I think we're all here?"
He stopped to count heads. Almost everyone who had been at Hog's Head had arrived, all except Cho Chang and her friend Marietta. Daphne found herself silently thanking whatever deity was watching over her, she couldn't deal with Chang on top of everyone else that evening. It had struck a particularly raw nerve in Daphne's mind when she had learned that Chang had been the one to spread rumours about her and Harry. It was a petty, ignorant and above all stupid. Best way to get to Potter's heart was to play the victim, anyone could see that. The boy jumped head first into danger year after year and every story that came from it was the same. He was saving someone.
Sure, there were occasionally weird tales of pumpkins and trolls, but on the whole the message was the same. Potter risking his neck and flouting rules for someone else. Second year it had been Ginny Weasley, then the maze with Diggory and the lake. Something had been off too about how he had ended up in the Hospital Wing in their third year, but Daphne didn't know enough about that night to make a guess but she knew Weasley had ended up in there with him too. Probably saving him from Black seeing as he had escaped the same night.
"What is this place?" one of the Weasley twins asked. "We've been here before, haven't we Fred?"
"Yeah, only last time it was a broom cupboard." Fred Weasley nodded. "Do you remember, we were hiding from Filch."
"Oh yeah," his brother grinned, "ah, memories."
"It's called the Room of Requirement," Potter explained, "or the Come and Go Room. Basically it gives you whatever you need and we needed somewhere we could learn, somewhere they wouldn't find us."
"And you think they won't? Even though she's here?"
The room fell silent at Lavender Brown's question. Every eye was on Daphne who suddenly regretted being as far from the group as possible. It felt like she was standing in a theatre, a crowd expectantly gazing up at her, waiting for a speech or a song. Her mouth was bone dry and heart thumped out a cacophony of noise in her chest. Some of them were looking at her inquisitively, mainly those who she suspected had no idea who she was. Others, like Hannah Abbott and Granger offered silent sympathy. Everyone else was glaring.
"Yes," said Harry slowly. He surveyed the room and sighed. "Daphne's got a right to be here just as much as anyone else."
"But she's in Slytherin," the annoying blond boy, Zacharias Smith, pointed out loudly. "What if she tells them what we're doing? Bet they'd be straight onto Umbridge."
"I am here, you know." Daphne snapped, irritably. If there was one thing she couldn't abide, it was being patronised and ignored. That was two things, but still. Her mother constantly did it while simpering over Astoria and it drove her mad. "Just because some dark witches and wizards come from our house you think what exactly? That we all sit in the dungeon plotting how to take over the world? Grow up."
It was not exactly how she had wanted to try and defend herself, but there was something in Smith's tone that had made her temper fray to almost breaking point. She was sick to death of people tarring her with the same brush as every dark witch or wizard that had come out of Slytherin.
"Are you telling me that you're exactly the same as Hannah, or that Granger's the same as Weasley?" Fred Weasley sniggered at this. "No, because that would be stupid. I'm here because I want to learn how to defend myself. That's it. I'm not going to tell them, I don't even like half of them."
"Oh yeah, and how do we know?" Smith asked haughtily. "For all we know, you could be spying on us."
"Then why isn't Umbridge knocking down the door, you idiot? You're all already breaking that stupid decree as it is. If I wanted to get you all expelled, I could, but I don't and so we all are wasting our time."
Smith looked livid and was set to shout another question when Potter cut across him. "We all hate Umbridge, Daphne included. If you can't handle being here just because she is then you know where the door is. No-one's forcing you to be here."
Nobody moved. Not even Zacharias Smith, though he continued to sneer at Daphne.
"Right," said Potter with more authority this time, "as I was saying, this place is going to be perfect for our meetings and today I wanted to start with Expelliarmus." Smith rolled his eyes but said nothing under Potter's watchful gaze. "I know it's a bit basic, but it's helped me out loads and it's a pretty good place to start and see where we're all at. I think we should divide up into pairs."
The room busied themselves with dividing into twos. Unsurprisingly, nobody came near Daphne leaving her with only one other person who had no partner, Neville Longbottom, who was doing a good job of not looking at her.
"Neville, why don't you come with me and Daphne?" Potter suggested after a painfully long and awkward moment of neither one of them moving towards each other, despite the room already being filled with shouts of Expelliarmus. Longbottom looked as if he would rather be anywhere else, but shuffled unwillingly towards Daphne.
"We'll go first," Potter said to Daphne, taking out his wand. "Neville, if you count us down."
"Er - One… two… three…" Both of them attacked at the same time, Daphne's spell whizzed past Potter and hit the bookshelf behind him causing a leather-bound book to go flying and almost hit Ron Weasley in the back of the head. Potter's attack, rather predictably, found its mark and she felt her wand being yanked from her grip and soar into Harry's outstretched hand.
"Not bad," Potter said without even a trace of mockery in his voice. "Your aim's a bit off though, it's 'cause you lean forwards a bit. You try, Neville."
This pattern continued for five minutes or so, each one of them taking turns with Potter. Even in that small space of time, his criticisms were working and more often than not Daphne found herself hitting her mark. She knew full well that Potter was going easy on her, but that was the point. There was no use him going as fast as he could, it would be like Snape all over again and she'd learn nothing. The same tactic did not work with Longbottom, who hit Parvati Patil, one of the instruments down the end of the room, and the bookcases.
"Listen, would you two mind pairing up for a bit, so I can go round and see how everyone else is doing?"
"Sure," Daphne nodded and even Longbottom, who minutes before had looked petrified at the thought of being near Daphne, nodded his consent.
"Do you want to count or shall I?" Daphne asked, trying her best to sound as friendly as possible. She could hardly blame Longbottom for his caution.
"You can, if you like?" Longbottom volunteered, nervously. Daphne nodded and together they began repeating the process Potter had taught them. Occasionally Daphne would repeat some of the pointers Potter had given them about aiming, which seemed to be Longbottom's problem. He practically leapt with joy when, on his tenth attempt, he managed to get the charm off quicker than Daphne and snatch her wand from her grip.
"Well done, Neville!" beamed Granger from behind him as she disarmed Weasley with a flick of her wand, who scowled irritably.
The hour was gone before Daphne knew it and by nine o'clock everybody was thrilled with the progress they'd made. The next session was agreed for Wednesday the following week, and Potter congratulated them all as they left until only he, Daphne, Weasley and Granger remained.
"Everything go alright with Neville?" Potter asked when the majority of people had left. Daphne, who did not fancy finding her way back to the dungeons with a group of Hufflepuffs in toe, had deliberately been reading the spines of some of the more interesting books and waiting for the room to clear.
"Yeah, it was good. He was getting a lot better by the end, so was I. It was a lot of fun actually."
"Good," Potter grinned, "that's great."
Daphne was silent for a minute, waiting to see if Granger and Weasley were eavesdropping, but to their credit they hovered by the door arguing about Weasley copying her Transfiguration homework.
"When Tracey comes next week, I'll probably see if Neville wants to go with someone else."
"What's this?" Granger asked, "who else is coming next week?"
"Daphne's friend, Tracey, she kind of figured out what was happening a couple of weeks ago and asked if she could join."
"She'll sign up, we can trust her." With this, Daphne added mentally. She did not fully trust Tracey with everything yet, there were some things that best remained a secret. That said, a secret class where revealing the truth would not only mark you out for all to see but also secure Tracey's reputation as a house traitor were all signs she was not going to snitch.
"But even if we can, that's not the whole problem is it?" Granger snapped dismissively, but Daphne did not like the wary look in her eye. "It's everyone else. No offence, but they don't exactly like you being here as it is. If we let more people in —"
"Slytherins, you mean," Daphne corrected sourly.
"Well, yes. Alright, Slytherins. If we let more Slytherins in, I don't think everybody will see it the same way we do. I want her to join, of course I do. It's just difficult, isn't it? Trying to keep everyone happy."
"So Tracey can't join just because it might upset people? She's done nothing wrong."
"I'm not saying she has. It's just difficult for everyone not to see what they expect to." It was not a question, rather a statement of fact and one Daphne did not want to accept lying down. Tracey had been nothing but a friend to her for weeks and it wasn't as if she could do anything. Not without serious pain anyway.
"And so for that we just don't bother? You don't just stop doing something when it gets difficult. Anyway, how is that fair? You let me in."
"Be fair, you didn't give us much of a choice," Weasley piped up. "Don't get me wrong, it was cool..." but he trailed off under Daphne's defiant glower.
"And what about you?" Daphne asked, rounding on Potter who so far had said nothing.
"Hermione's right, they're not going to like it." Potter said and Daphne felt her heart sink. "But, that doesn't mean we shouldn't let her join. I get what you're saying," when Granger looked like she wanted to protest, "but there's no way I'm going to stop someone who genuinely wants to join. We'd be no better than Malfoy."
Granger's mouth shut with a resigned sigh. The last comment stripped her of whatever fight she had left.
"Oh, alright, fine." she said fussily, "but I just think we should be careful."
"Be fair, Hermione. I don't know half the people that show up anyway," Weasley pointed out.
"Yes, but they're not going to turn us into Umbridge, are they?" Granger asked hotly.
"And you think Tracey will?" asked Daphne icily "You don't even know her."
"I know she hangs out with Malfoy," Granger shot back, "and that she's spent the last two years laughing at Hagrid in Care of Magical Creatures and Neville in Potions."
Daphne could almost feel the tide in the room turning, from being with her to with Granger. They didn't understand, they were never going to understand what it had been like for Tracey. Daphne herself hadn't until Tracey had explained it to her. She, like Granger, had thought Tracey to be one of Malfoy's cronies when the truth was the exact opposite. But she had to try and at least explain that Tracey, for all her faults, was not who they thought.
"It's not that… it's not that simple," Daphne faltered under the wounded and now incensed gaze of three Gryffindors. She did not look into Potter's face, for she knew what betrayal lay there, so instead kept her gaze fixed on Granger. "You try having a Muggle father in Slytherin and see how easy it is to be yourself."
"Her dad's a Muggle?" Weasley asked. "I thought all Slytherins were purebloods?"
"Not all of us. Ambition and cunning, remember? Besides all that guff about Salazar Slytherin wanting only purebloods in his house is over-exaggerated. Everyone conveniently forgets that when he set this school up we were being hunted by Muggles and burned at the stake. His sister was killed, so I can understand if he was a bit upset. I don't agree, but there you are. Look, Tracey did what she had to. It stopped people having a go at her about her dad all the time."
Granger scoffed. "That doesn't mean she had to laugh at Hagrid, or Neville, or Harry."
"Doesn't mean she meant it either," Daphne snapped bitterly. "I thought you'd get it, Granger, or would you fancy being told you're basically a 'mudblood' every day? Their words. Not mine."
"No," Granger admitted, her voice suddenly a lot quieter. A small pang of guilt shot through Daphne's heart. She hadn't wanted to say it but Granger just wasn't getting it. It wasn't as simple as a bit of teasing or being ignored. It was bigoted, arrogant slurs every day. Without anyone to lean on she was hardly surprised that Tracey had chosen the easy way out.
"She's not who you think she is," Daphne told her, more kindly this time. "She's not who I thought she was. I was the same as you, Granger. I thought she got off on it like they did. But that's not who she is, I don't think it ever was. She just did what she had to to blend in. It's not easy being the only one to stick out."
"She's got a point," said Potter darkly and for the first time since the argument Daphne looked at him and saw the same hollow eyes and sadness she had seen Tracey wearing. He knew exactly how she felt, of course he did. The whole school had shunned him when he thought he was the Heir of Slytherin and when they believed he had entered the tournament to claim the limelight.
"I'm not saying she's perfect, just that she deserves a chance like everyone else."
There was a collective silence as the three Gryffindors looked at one another. Granger still looked retistent, but Weasley was nodding and Potter still had that same hollow stare that could only be worn by someone who knew exactly what it felt like to be the freak of the pack. Eventually Granger nodded too, suddenly looking more upset with herself than angry with Tracey. It wasn't her fault, she didn't know, how could she have done? Daphne guessed it would be like asking if Pansy could join from their point of view, why would they think she wouldn't go straight to Umbridge?
"Thank you."
"No, you're right," Granger said sadly, "you are. It can be difficult to forget when all we're used to Malfoy that not everyone who laughs along might agree. Or even want to laugh. I shouldn't have —"
"It's fine," Daphne interrupted quickly, "forget it. You didn't know." She looked around for another source of conversation and suddenly realised just how late it was and wondered how on Earth she was going to get back to the dungeons without being seen.
Without a sound, a small door appeared in the wall with a sign 'dungeons' above it.
"Guess that answers that one," Daphne said, relieved. "Well, I guess I'll see you next week then?"
They nodded, Granger pulling a very watery smile on her face. Daphne, who hated both crying and hugging, thought it best not to stay around too much longer and waved to them all before heading towards the door the Room had provided for her. But as she opened the door she stopped, turning back to Potter.
"Thank you. For tonight. That was the best Defence Against the Dark Arts class I've ever had."
She wasn't entirely sure what made her stop, or why she looked back at them. Weasley was trying his best to look sympathetic as a clearly guilt-ridden Granger hugged him. Potter was not looking at either of them but instead staring at his shoes glumly, clearly thinking about something. Whether it was the sight of Potter or Granger that forced her to speech, she wasn't sure, but before she knew it she heard her own voice echoing through the almost deserted room.
And with that, she walked through the door and left from sight, not daring to hear his response.
Her return to the dungeons was, rather predictably, more eventful. Despite his warning, Draco appeared to be unconvinced that he had been menacing enough. He, his usual cronies and Parkinson, were waiting for her when she returned. The fire had all but died out, part of the charm that encouraged students to head to bed at the right time. It gave the ambush an eerie sickly glow, making their skin appear sallow and their sneers far less threatening.
"You didn't have to wait up," Daphne remarked, noting that the small gang had conveniently blocked the stairway to the girl's dormitory. "I'm a big girl."
"That's obvious," Parkinson snapped snidely, ever the wit. Like she was stick thin.
"You were with Potter," Draco asserted, giving a scathing look to the girl who bowed before him. It would've been funny if it wasn't so revolting. A couple of stragglers, who had clearly been excited to see what all the fuss was about, ogled the scene with interest. There were seldom arguments in the Common Room, replaced instead by Draco's speeches about his family or small huddles who plotted the demise of their competition. Out and out fighting was Gryffindors.
"Was I? And what, exactly, were we doing in this disturbing obsession of yours?"
"He's up to something."
"Fascinating," Daphne let the sarcasm drip from her words like melted chocolate from a spoon. "Any other wondrous insights? Or are you going to persist with vague details until I confess that I'm deeply in love with him and plotting the downfall of your entire family."
"I said she fancied him," Crabbe mumbled excitedly.
"Shut up," Draco snapped, clearly riled. "Look, Greengrass, you might find it funny associating with such filth, but you're only going to hurt yourself and us."
"Are you really that naive, or do you just repeat whatever daddy tells you?"
"Don't talk to him like that!" snapped Parkinson. Beside her, Goyle cracked his knuckles, in what he probably thought was a menacing manner. Despite the fact they had wands, and magic.
"Pansy, I can do whatever I want, but that's really the point isn't it. Even I was talking to Potter, which by the way I'm not," she said the final word slowly, as if she was talking to a particularly outraged toddler, "it really doesn't make any difference to you lot. Aside from the fact that it's 'wrong' or 'weird.' But then, all of your parents supported a man with a snake for a face, so…"
"Being Potter's ally is dangerous, Greengrass. We're just trying to help you
"Because God forbid we have friends," a new voice said. Tracey, clutching her Potions textbook so tightly to her chest it would probably leave a mark, rose from the leather chair in the corner. Had she not looked so petrified the image would have been rather striking. "If she did want to hang out with Potter, then at least one of us would actually have a right to talk about him several times a day."
Daphne could have applauded. For his part, Draco was so stunned that Tracey of all people had spoken back to him that he couldn't say anything.
"Now, if that really is all, Draco. I'm going to bed," Daphne smirked, taking the opportunity to side-step a gawping Crabbe. "I suggest you do the same."
Clearly, she'd been right about Tracey, because her final bridge back to Draco was definitely well and truly burned. And when she finally told Tracey that she'd asked Harry if he would let her in, and that he'd said yes, Tracey had hugged her so tightly that she thought her bones would burst from her chest.
At least someone was happy she wanted to spend time with Harry Potter.