He didn't think much more about his interaction with Davis since telling Ron and Hermione the day after it had happened. They both confirmed his suspicions - she was every bit as bad as he'd heard. Supposedly, and occurring only to Ron she had even spent time in Azkaban, though Hermione was quick to passionately dispute that claim. After they all had a laugh about it, mostly at his expense, the topic dropped from his mind completely.
And it was not difficult, as Hermione had predicted, the sixth years' free periods were not hours of blissful relaxing as Ron had anticipated, but was the time to keep up with the vast amounts of extra homework they were getting. Not only were they studying as if they had exams every day, but lessons themselves had become more demanding than before. Fast forward a few weeks and nonverbal spells were now expected, not only in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but in Charms and Transfiguration too. Harry barely understood half of what Professor McGonagall said to them these days and even Hermione had had to ask her to repeat instructions once or twice.
Incredibly, and to Hermione's increasing resentment, his best subject had suddenly become Potions and it had been through no fault of his own. He'd spent all of the new term following instructions left behind by the mysterious 'Half-Blood Prince' in his second-hand copy of Advanced Potion-Making. By their fourth lesson, Professor Slughorn was even raving about his abilities, saying he had rarely taught anyone so talented, though neither Ron nor Hermione were as amused by this as he was. Although he'd offered to share his book with both of them, Ron had difficulty deciphering the handwriting and Hermione was relentless in her opinion of how immoral cheating was.
He did definitely wonder who the Half-Blood Prince had been. Although the amount of homework they were being given prevented him from reading the entirety of his notes, he had skimmed through enough to see that there was barely a page on which the Prince had not touched. More than that - not even all of them were concerned with potion-making, here and there were directions for what looked like spells the Prince had invented himself. For now, he was just trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth and relish the fact there was one less lesson he had to worry himself over. But each page he turned, each recipe he learned, each new spell he discovered, this fascination grew.
"It could be herself as well, you know!" Hermione said irritably. "I think the handwriting looks more like a girl's than a boy's..."
The trio together made their way through the entrance hall.
"The Half-Blood Prince, he was called," Harry said. "If we take that literally - how many girls do we know that have been Princes?"
She seemed to have no answer to this, looking up at the grand clock. He followed her eye-line.
"It's twenty to three. I'm free until Quidditch later. What're we doing?"
"Well, I could do with going to the library -"
"- shocker -" Ron gasped.
"- and the pair of you two could as well!" she continued. "Ron and I have to chaperone a second-year exam in an hour, but there's more than enough time for us to get a head-start on Professor McGonagall's homework."
Annoyingly, he knew she was right. Their workload really was that extreme now. Come to think of it - he couldn't confidently pinpoint a genuine relaxing session the three of them had shared this term. Not one that hadn't been polluted by homework, anyway.
"Fair enough, yeah, alright."
They changed their direction at a one-twenty angle and began up the steps to the grand staircase.
Side by side, he and Ron's pace carefully slowed to match Hermiones, they walked slowly through the staircases and corridor. It didn't take long for them to arrive at the second floor and the giant stone door of the library. To the left was Madame Pinces wooden counter, and the rest of the library opened up on the right. It easily dwarfed any other room in the castle, except maybe the great hall, with the distinct smell of old books extenuating the place's old-world air. There seemed to be a lot of their fellow classmates here, which considering the time, wasn't a big surprise.
As they maneuvered their way inside in search of a place the three of them could comfortably sit, Harry was surprised that despite how crowded the place was, the noise level was barely a quiet background hum. Suppose everyone else was as stressed about their workload as they were, then?
They eventually happened on a mostly untouched area at the back, in front of a lit fireplace.
The second her bum hit the armchair, Hermione had already returned to her reading. He slouched into his chair and cracked open his copy of Advanced Potions Making again. He found the page that he creased a corner off to mark the spot he left yesterday night and picked up from there.
The familiar handwriting of the Half-Blood Prince leaped out at him from the very first line, but as the sentences turned into paragraphs, he started to drift a little. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to get himself into the atmosphere of the book. This was partly due to the lack of time, but the more distracting factor was the sun just outside the window. It was a nice way to spend the remainder of the day's light, the three of them studying by the fireplace, and it made him appreciate the quiet and often serene surroundings of Hogwarts, as isolated as it could seem these days.
Harry looked at his watch as he secured the old copy of Advanced Potion-Making back into his bag. Maybe they could afford a little relaxation time, as a treat?
"How are Fred and George doing, anyway?"
Hermione twitched her essay on The Principles of Dematerialization away from Ron, who was trying to read it upside down.
"Yeah, they're alright. Still making a killin'. Mum says they're the only ones capable of turnin' a depression into profit. Hoping to visit the shop next weekend if you're up for it?"
He smiled, nodding.
"Awesome. Saturday or Sunday?"
"Saturday. The plan is to visit them, to Leaky Cauldron when they close up and having a few there, then all back to the Burrow to spend Sunday with Mum. You're more than welcome to come, mate, Bill is gonna be there."
He smiled over the prospect of a proper break from all this revision, not to mention getting the chance to see more of the other Weasley brothers.
"Is Leaky Cauldron not a bit dodgy, now? That's what Seamus was saying."
Ron jiggled his hand from side to side.
"Half and half. Where isn't, these days? Nah, we reckon cause most of us are regulars and we'll be in a group, we should be fine. You don't have to come if you're worried, though."
He laughed.
"Are you mental? Count me in, man. I just want to know why am I only getting my invite now?"
"Originally it was just gonna be Bill and me, see? He's not had a chance to visit their shop yet so I was gonna show him 'round, then when the twins found out they wanted to go for some pints after, Dad heard about it and wanted to chaperone, though I know exactly what he's like when he chaperones drinking… it all just escalated from there."
By now, Hermione had noticed their conversation. He could see the annoyance on her face from here, but he was in no mood to start a fight.
"You coming as well, Hermione?"
"Probably not. I expect I'll be revising… much like I am trying to do now…"
He scoffed.
"We've only got an hour, Hermione. We are allowed to enjoy it."
She looked up at him with incomprehensible confusion.
"Revision is fun!"
He and Ron identically laughed - which earned them both a glare off her, and a shushing from deeper within the library. They went quiet, half apologetically.
"Look - I just can't revise right now. It's nice weather and we've done nothing since term started. Let's just go to Hagrids, a fifteen-minute adventure, in and out!"
"No, Harry!" she stage-whispered. "You're more than entitled to go by yourself, but me and Ronald are staying right here!"
"Now, 'ang on a minute - "
A single death glare silenced him. Harry sniggered - then resisted the urge to make whipping noises.
"You know? That's fine then, honestly."
With the revision refusing to settle, he didn't have much to contribute to their group and didn't fancy third-wheeling. He slipped his copy of Advanced Potion Making into his book bag and stood up.
"I'm gonna head down to the Quidditch Pitch to set up early for tryouts tomorrow."
"Oh, Harry, sit down, I didn't mean it like that -"
"No - no! I'm not mad!" He smiled. "Honestly, I'm not mad. I just really don't want to be sitting reading right now, I'm in a good mood. Ron, cheers for the invite, let your family know I'd love to come."
Hermione gave him a pouting look, not quite believing him, but not wanting to make the situation worse.
"I'm not mad!" he repeated, laughing.
Lips pursed, she nodded.
"Well… alright… See you later."
Ron gave an upwards nod.
"Alright, mate. See you in the dorm."
He waved them both off and quickly made his departure through the aisles.
Honestly, did he feel bad abandoning them? Yes… but not enough for it to matter. He needed to relax right now, that's all there was to it. It had been nothing but revision sheet after revision sheet - it had gotten so bad he'd caught himself dreaming about mock exams. And if he was being perfectly honest, there was no strict rule that he had to set up for Quidditch the night before. Trails weren't until eleven, which was more than enough time for him and Ginny to get down and set up everything immediately before anyway.
Yes… come to think of it, he may be looking at his first total revision, and by extension, stress-free night.
"Harry Potter!"
He turned around, expecting to see someone behind him, but did not. It was not a familiar voice that had called to him, and he rapidly decided to doubt if he had heard anything at all.
Just as he was about to turn back - he spotted them. They were quite a way away and didn't appear to even be looking at him, so it was no surprise he hadn't noticed them immediately. He approached, offering a nod of acknowledgment. The girl simply stared at him, wide-eyed.
"You… shouted at me?"
She nodded but stayed silent. Something seemed off, and after a couple of seconds, he realized what it was. She looked tense. A bit like Hermione earlier, but in a different way, more scared, he'd even say. As if hoping for his friends to appear, he checked over his shoulder, then back to her.
He recognized her now, at least. She was in his year, though the two had rarely shared classes together - wasn't she in Hermione's exam for the O. ?
"Greengrass, right? Was it… Diana?"
"D-Daphne."
Her speech was so weak it was barely audible to him, even in the still library.
"Right, yeah, sorry... You… need me for something?
He really didn't know what else to say. She had called him, so until she elaborated, it was the only thing he could think to do, try to get a normal conversation going.
She nodded, but breathed in sharply - she must be really nervous, he thought.
"I-I just wanted to - but - n-not if you're busy, or anything?"
She was a little shorter than him, replete with glasses, freckles, and a very troubled look, she seemed to fit a library perfectly. She seemed delicate to the point of breaking if even breathed on too hard. That made him a bit unnerved too, but he pushed the feeling aside, trying to be as neutral as he could.
"I have a few minutes to… to… is… everything alright? Do you need me to get someone?"
It was the best he could do - she looked like she was boarder-lining an anxiety attack and he really didn't feel he had the skills to deal with that.
"You met Tracey, didn't you?"
It took him a second to respond, what with the unprecedented change of subject. He thought back to his chat with Davis the other day. Was that something to be concerned about? What reason did she have for bringing it up?
"Oh, yeah, I did. She's, erm… nice bit of work, there."
He noticed now her hands were clenched so tightly around the leather straps of her bag that her knuckles were whitening. He was concerned - then realized with her head down and mouth pursed closed, she wasn't being shy, but looked furious.
"Oh, she's such an arsehole - ! I'm really sorry about her, she doesn't mean it!"
He really couldn't care less about Davis - it was far more bothering him seeing her getting so worked up. He suddenly really wished he hadn't decided to leave Ron and Hermione.
"O-kay?"
"She's like that with everyone, she just likes to bully and be mean, please don't read anything into it! She's not a bad person, I promise."
He thought that judgment wasn't quite harsh enough, given his brief encounter with her. Then again, he hadn't known her for that long, so he supposed there could be something more to her he didn't know.
"Look - has she sent you, or…?"
Her thumbs danced with each other and her eyes flitted around the room, looking everywhere but at him. He didn't have to be a detective to work out where this was going.
"Look, Diane, if Davis has anything to say to me then she's the one that should be saying it. Not sending her mates over to do it for her. Yeah, she was a bit of arse, alright? She asked me out and threw a tantrum when I said no. Am I bothered by it? Honestly, I'd forgotten all about it, so not really. But you shouldn't be getting involved. I appreciate it, but she's really the one who should be doing this."
She completely stopped in her tracks, looking quite surprised that he was able to decipher her intention. It took her a little time to formulate a response
"I didn't know she - why would she - no, s-she wouldn't -"
She tried saying all of that at once, then caught herself, starting again.
"I am…" she breathed, "... sorry you had to go through that. She's sorry as well. She's very… very self-destructive. It's no excuse, I know, but…"
It was now making sense why she looked both angry and scared, and it did nothing but fuel his worsening disdain for Davis.
"Thanks, but really, don't apologize on her behalf. If she's really sorry, she should tell me herself."
"She isn't in school right now…"
She gazed a little to the side, looking unwilling to go on. He tilted his head inquisitively, but a couple of seconds passed with no further answer.
"Shocker."
Surprisingly, she found amusement at that. He hadn't meant it as a joke but accepted it the same. At the sight of her smile, he found himself chuckling a little. It's surprising how much of a relief to the situation that was.
Then, as though she had forgotten her line in a pantomime, she snapped back into it.
"But she is sorry!"
He shook his head.
"Right, thanks - Dayna….?"
"Daphne."
"Thanks, Daphne. But no thanks. That's not on you, I just have no respect for people who can't say stuff directly."
She pouted her lips, and with one look at her troubled expression, he knew he wasn't going to change her standpoint.
"But I -"
He held his hand up, solid and firm.
"Stop. I have to go set up for Quidditch tryouts tomorrow. If Davis wants to find me and apologize herself, that's where I'll be. Don't let her send you… you deserve more than that. Anybody does."
She probably said something more than that but he didn't wait to catch it. He turned and carried on the way he originally intended, fighting off only a bit of guilt in his heart.
That was rude, he knew but didn't care.
He didn't owe her anything and was more than accommodating for her being so nervous. Frankly, he was getting a bit sick of random Slytherin girls trying to start something with him.
If he hadn't been in such an unexpectedly good mood when he'd decided to leave, that could easily have escalated into something. Not targeted towards her, though, the poor girl seemed scared to death to even be talking to him. He was definitely too harsh on her. But it was justified anger - the few glimpses of Davis he was catching was enough to sour any predetermined opinion he may have had of her.
Suddenly, he wasn't as much looking forward to this evening.
