Halfway through October came their first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. Frankly, Harry was surprised these trips were still allowed, given the increasing security measures around the castle. That surprise quickly changed into excitement, as the opportunity to get out of the castle for a few hours came as a welcome relief. Ticking off the days on his calendar brought him back to his third year, and he found that as such, he'd retained this child-like sense of awe when thinking about the small wizarding village.
He even woke up extra early on the morning of the trip. It wasn't the excitement that drove this behavior, however. Somewhere in the back of his head he had awakened a forbidden nostalgia - his third year, when he'd also spent his days bigging up Hogsmeade to be the best thing that was ever going to happen to him, he hadn't been able to attend the trip that time, and it was because of Sirius Black. The last time he'd been so looking forward to the Hogsmede visit, they'd all been living in fear of the infamous mass murderer…
Suddenly very impartial over the idea of going, he decided to break open his copy of Advanced Potion-Making and wait the time out until breakfast. He did not usually lie in bed reading his textbooks; that sort of behavior, as Ron rightly said, was indecent in anybody except Hermione, who was just a bit weird. Harry however, felt that given the circumstance, he could certainly use a little pick-me-up.
Last night's dive into Tom Riddle's memories was still slowly working its way round his system. Seeing the Dark Lord - a man Harry had nothing but fear and contempt for - reduced to a crying child in an orphanage just didn't seem like something from this reality. Then it occurred to him that was probably exactly Voldemort's intent. Seeing him exposed like that humanised him in a way he imagined the Death Eaters had never considered. It had certainly left him with a lot to think about last night, and upon re-examination, he almost felt better now having a clear idea of what he was up against.
Wrestling with himself over chasing the rabbit had become quite the unfortunate habit of his these days. He had come to terms with the loss of his godfather for the most part, but he was occasionally haunted by moments in which it suddenly occurred to him all over again. For a few hours, perhaps even days, life would return to normal, only for him to be catapulted into a torrent of emotion and guilt when the simplest of things triggered his memory of what could have been.
Advanced Potion-Making had become a refreshing break to that reality, something he could put his attention into fully, and was far more accessible than Qudditch. The more he pored over the book, the more he realized how much was in there, not only the hints and shortcuts on potions, but also the imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins, which he was sure, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, the so-called 'Half Blood Prince' had invented himself. Perhaps the most useful spell he had discovered was Muffliato, a charm that filled the ears of anyone nearby with a subtle buzzing, so that conversations could be held in class without being overheard. Hermione maintained her rigid disapproval of his use of the book, but the thought had occurred to him that perhaps if she knew why it had become such an emotional crutch for him recently, she would be more lenient. Of course, that would require him actually communicating to her about it, which wasn't going to happen. Even if they had a few fleeting seconds to spare between revision and lesson time, he doubted he possessed the self awareness needed to accurately communicate what he was going through. Perhaps once he figured it out himself, then he'd attempt to explain it to her. Until then, she needed to get off his back.
They got dressed, padding themselves out with several of Mrs. Weasleys hand knitted sweaters and carrying cloaks, scarves, and gloves. With Hermione deciding to remain behind, he and Ron elected to skip the Great Hall on their way down, in hopes of being able to visit Gideons Gifted Genoas for a desert breakfast. Filch was standing by the giant front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go. The process took even longer than normal as he triple checked everybodies belongings, quite what he was expecting to find, Harry couldn't guess.
"Ron, are you hiding Lord Voldemort in your bag or do I have him?" he asked loudly in the queue.
His cheek earned him a few extra jabs from Flichs hand-crafted security sensor, which was still stinging as he stepped out into the wind.
The walk to the carriages was not enjoyable. Winter had not yet arrived, but it was clearly nearing the horizon. He had his scarf wrapped over his lower face to shield against the wind - the exposed part of his forehead soon felt raw and numb. Very quickly, he wondered if they might have had a better time in the warm common room with Hermione.
When they finally reached Hogsmeade and saw Gideons had been boarded up, he took that as the final nail in the coffin. He should have listened to his instincts this morning. An unsaid agreement between them, Ron pointed toward the Three Broomsticks and they staggered toward the pub together.
He shivered as they entered the thick, cigarette-stained air.
"Thank god…" Ron exclaimed, "It has no bloody right to be that cold when it's not snowin'! Bloody waste of a day, I'm sitting down and drinkin' until curfew!"
"I like the sound of that…" he muttered.
"Harry, m'boy!" came a booming voice from behind them.
"We need to leave."
They turned to see Professor Slughorn, wearing an enormous furry hat and an overcoat with matching fur collar, occupying at least a quarter of the pub.
"Come, come!" he gestured them over to his table. "You as well - Wallaby! First rounds on me, ay?"
Ron looked at him, serious.
"Free pint, mate."
He glared at him.
"Don't you dare."
"Oh, I'm gonna dare."
"I will kill you. I will kill you right now. You will die."
Grinning, Ron dragged off his hat and waved it into the air.
"ALRIGHT PROFESSOR!"
"Wonderful! Wonderful! Rosmerta - ! Three of the land-ladies finest, if you would!"
The land-lady behind the bar, of which he knew Ron fancied, gave a thumbs up and began prepping drinks for them.
"Now - !" Slughorn cleared his throat proudly. "Tell me, my boy - how has Hogwarts been treating you? A lot has changed since it was my day, I dare say I would appreciate a good catch-up!"
With the promise of free beer on the horizon, he began to divulge an abbreviated history of his past five years at the castle, with Ron occasionally contributing something he'd missed. By the time he reached the mystery surrounding the petrifications of the second year, their warm butterbeer had arrived and they began to chuck them down, relishing the flavor and warmth.
" - but see, Sirius was innocent all along. Pettigrew framed him all those years - "
"Peter Pettigrew?" he repeated back, eyes bribing with shock.
He continued his story, stopping occasionally to lap up more of the caramel drink. The entire time he spoke, Slughorn appeared totally enamored by his tale, hanging on his each and every word and syllable. When Ron got up to excuse himself to the bathroom, neither of them seemed to notice.
"Rosmerta, my dear! Another round, would you?" he waved her down again.
Again the busty bar-lady delivered three rounds of butterbeer to their table, and again Horace Slughorn paid for them out of his own pocket. When Ron returned from the bog, his despair over missing her was quickly replaced by the delight of another free drink.
" so then we though, well this old hag isn't teaching us anything, and we need to pass our OWLs , so then - "
" - so then Harry became our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher... off the record, of course," Ron finished for him.
Slughorn leaned back in his chair, eyes sparkling.
"My word... my boy, you do live an eventual life, don't you? Hmph? Hmph!" he chuckled.
Harry swirled the remainder of the drink in the bottom of his glass. He was beginning to feel it's effect.
"Well... " he laughed himself, "... it's certainly not through choice, Professor."
Slughorn snorted, slamming a fist down to the wooden table. Ron flinched in alarm, his attention having wavered to the bar.
"My boy -! Please, do you see the castle walls around us!? Please, call me Horace! You've more than earned it!"
He really would rather not.
"Sure... Horace."
Horace raised his arm a third time for Rosmerta's attention, but Harry interjected.
"Honestly, Profe - Horace... I can get this one, it's fine."
But he was merely met back with a chuckle.
"Humble and generous, too. My word, you really are your mother's son!"
The nature of the compliment struck him, and he reluctantly put his arm back down. Rosmerta approached, taking a notebook out of her apron.
"Same again for you gents?"
Slughorn nodded, patting his stomach.
"If you would please! Oh, if that's fine with the pair of you...? Harry, Rupert, same again?"
He nodded, Ron grinned at her.
"That a yes then, handsome?" she asked.
Ron's smile vanished in an instant as he suddenly looked ready to be sick.
"Y-Yes, please."
She scratched down the note and returned to the bar, all three men watching her leave. Only after she did disappeared behind the bar, did Slughorn lean in, talking at a lower volume.
"Anyway, Harry... I'm glad I was able to grab you, actually... you see, I'm putting together this, ahh… club, for students I am particularly proud of."
He then straightened up in his seat, soberer than a second ago.
"A bit of a business opportunity for those up-and-coming to mingle... reserved only for the most elite. Ethan Parkin, ex-Seeker of the Wigtown Wanderers - though of course you know that already m'boy didn't you? He used to be a member! Oh, and as did your old mum, bless her heart. One of my prized pupils, in fact! Your father… not one of my best, admittedly, but that's not a reason why you can't make up for him!" he laughed merrily to himself.
He couldn't help it, at the mention of his mother, not his father for once, turned his strained smile into a genuine one.
"Meetings will be held monthly in my office and we'll also host a Christmas Party, which I dare say has been known to be one of the most prestigious events to happen inside Hogwarts walls! And of course, if you're still unsure, I don't suppose it would be too difficult to convince Miss Parkin to pop in for a visit..."
Way later than it should have taken him, he finally caught the Professor's intention behind his tangent.
"Oh, god - you want me to come to these?"
"Of course, my boy!" he gasped. "And you shouldn't worry about not knowing anybody, a few other classmates of yours have also been invited, now let's see there was… Blaise Zabini, of course, Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger, they're both friends of yours I'm led to believe? Hm! Yes, who else… Ah, Daphne Greengrass and Melinda Bobbin! No Ravenclaws this time around, though through no deliberate intention I assure you!" he chuckled.
The way he was building this up made it sound like the Yule Ball part two, and Harry remembered how splendidly that night had gone for him. Unfortunately, as unappealing as it sounded, he also couldn't deny it would give him a pretty good chance to pursue Dumbledore's mission of getting on Slughorn's better side. It could be two birds with one stone, as it definitely couldn't hurt having a teacher-sanctioned break from revising, one even Hermione couldn't argue with.
Dumbledore's mission for him was to grow close to Slughorn. Knowing your enemy makes sense, but why did Dumbledore believe Slughorn had some secret about Voldemort he wasn't sharing? How close had the two gotten exactly? And, outside the obvious favoritism in lesson, no thanks to the Half-Blood Prince, why did he think Harry was the one who could get through to him?
These factors, as well as his own thoughts about needing a more consistent break from revision, made him consider a lot of things. Whatever his intentions truly were, he trusted Dumbledore. Whether or not he was right to be a different matter altogether, but frankly at this point and after his non-appearance all of last year, he was simply happy to be involved with the Headmasters plans again.
"Sounds… sounds fantastic, Professor. I'd love to come."
"Ah, ah, ah! Wonderful!"
He felt like he'd just been conned, though not by Slughorn. More like by some outside force, pushing him irrevocably toward his destiny. ...Or maybe he should stop listening to Luna's conspiracy theories so often, otherwise, he may start sounding like her. Still, suppose he had to show up now.
Another day of lesson finally dragged itself to a close. Unexpectedly, he managed to stay awake for the whole day, which he was pretty sure counted as a miracle.
Ideally, he was hoping for a short kip on the common room's settee before heading down to the dungeons for tonight's event, but he couldn't sleep. His body was tired, but his mind was awake, staring at the shadows from the fire as they danced across the ceiling. He grasped desperately for a thread of thought, hoping he could run his brain into the ground, but all he could think of was how he couldn't think of anything at all.
He wondered if this sweet melancholy was a result of Sirius's absence in his life. He was kept so busy with school work these days, he scarcely had time to remember the incident that took him from him. On the occasions, he did have entirely to himself, this quiet sadness always did seem quick on his heels.
Then again, maybe he was just not looking forward to the dinner party. All he knew for definite was, for whatever reason, he was awake and he shouldn't be.
Ignoring his body's stiffness, he turned his head to get a better look at the clock. Half-six and Slughorns party began at seven, so his nap time was just about up anywho. His legs seemed unwilling to stand, and for a lot more reasons than simple tiredness. When they did, he threw on some vaguely decent clothes and headed out of the common room, hoping the walk down may do some good to his mood.
He was surprised at how chill the air was compared to the relative warmth of the common room. Then again, they were now in winter. He could almost see his breath as he wandered the empty corridors.
When he eventually reached the office in question, he saw that thankfully, he was not the first invitee to arrive, but judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn's welcome, he was the most warmly anticipated.
"Harry, m'boy!" He said, jumping up at the sight of him. "Good to see you, good to see you!"
He nodded, feeling awkward in his own skin.
At a gesture from Slughorn, he sat down in the only empty seat, which was conveniently directly opposite him. On his way, he glanced around at their fellow guests. He recognized Hermione, McLaggen, Belby, a tall Slytherin boy from their year, two seventh-year girls whom he did not know but thought were very pretty, and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there, Ginny.
"Now, do you know everyone? Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course —"
Although he didn't actually remember ever having spoken to Zabini, he did not make any sign of recognition or greeting other than a subtle glare his way. Gryffindors and Slytherins typically loathed each other on principle - he couldn't argue with it.
"This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you've come across each other —? No?"
McLaggen raised a hand, Harry nodded back at him.
"— and this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether —?"
Belby, who was nervous-looking, gave a strained smile.
"— and this charming young lady tells me she knows you!"
Ginny grimaced at him from behind Slughorn's back.
"— and then last but certainly not least, little Miss Daphne Greengrass there!"
He squinted and sure enough, initially hidden behind Zabini's tall figure, he spotted the same short blonde girl that harassed him in the library a few weeks back. She nodded at him, which he awkwardly returned on instinct.
"Well now, this is most pleasant!" Slughorn said cozily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better! Here, take a napkin, tuck in, tuck in! All specially made by the house-elves just for us... Pheasant, Belby? I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles. Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"
Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant and in his haste to answer he swallowed too fast and began to choke.
"N-Not… not much of h-him, n-no," Belby gasped, his eyes streaming.
"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy, I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"
"I suppose…" Belby seemed afraid to take another bite until he was sure that Slughorn had finished with him. "Er… he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about…"
His voice trailed away as Slughorn turned to McLaggen.
"Now, you, Cormac," he said, "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"
"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," he answered. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour; this was before he became Minister, obviously —"
"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?" Slughorn beamed, now offering around a small tray of pies. "Now tell me…"
It was all exactly as Harry had suspected. Everyone here was invited because they either were or were connected to, someone well-known or influential in the wizarding world. As they went around the table - he found out the specifics. Zabini had his mother and her food business, Hermione had the highest grades of them all, McLaggin had friends in the Ministry, Bobbin's family was infamously well-off, a relative of Daphne's apparently invented the Polyjuice Potion, the only one that didn't immediately make sense to him was Ginny... but he dare not say that.
It was Hermione's turn to be interrogated next - her parents were dentists, which Slughorn kept referring to as teeth-doctors, and that conversation played out just about as boring and uncomfortable as it sounded would. By the end of the ordeal, it was obvious in his tone he had been expecting more from her, which made her shrink into her seat.
After that, the food was good enough that it allowed Harry to zone out of whatever was said next. It didn't matter if he wasn't enjoying himself though, he had gotten the invite and turned up, that was what was important. He'd taken the first step on his way to completing the mission Dumbledore had asked of him, next he just needed a chance to get himself alone with Slughorn.
"And now!" he shifted massively in his seat, once again dragging all eyes and ears to his attention, "Harry Potter! Where to begin, I feel we barely scratched the surface in the Three Broomsticks!"
He smiled brightly, gritting his teeth toughly in the process. He knew exactly what was coming, but luckily, he'd grown more than used to it.
"The Chosen One is a big title, I assume," he continued after a short pause. "Of course, there have been rumors for years since it happened… I remember when well — after that terrible night — Lily — James — and you survived — and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary —"
Zabini gave a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to indicate amused skepticism.
"Oh, dear!" Slughorn chuckled. "You want to be careful, Blaise! I have on good authority this young man is one of the better duellists in the school, I wouldn't cross him!"
Zabini merely looked contemptuous.
"Anyway," he said, turning back to Harry. "Such rumors this summer. Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the Prophet has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes — but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were in the thick of it all!"
Harry, who could not see any way out of this without flatly lying, nodded said nothing. Slughorn beamed at him.
"So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond — you were there, then? But the rest of the stories — so sensational, of course, one doesn't know quite what to believe — this fabled prophecy, for instance —"
"We never heard a prophecy," Hermione answered.
"That's right," Ginny interjected staunchly. "We were there too, and all this 'Chosen One' rubbish is just the Prophet making things up as usual."
"You were both there too, were you?" Slughorn rounded on them both, suddenly far more interested than he was a moment ago. "Yes… well… it is true that the Prophet often exaggerates, of course…"
"Honestly, Professor," he spoke up finally, feeling apprehensive at best and uncomfortable at worst, "I'm doing my best to just focus on my exams. Trying to put off the whole Chosen-One stuff, for now, it can wait until I'm an Auror."
Despite his obscure answer, Slughorn seemed happy with it and then set off babbling about something else in his usual chipper tone. The conversation shifted off of him and onto whoever was next, he breathed out. He had the distinct impression Slughorn was not finished with him just yet but had been discouraged by Hermione and Ginny.
Just as he put her knife and fork in the center of his plate and stood up, however, Slughorn then announced it was time to mingle, and sent everyone off into different corners of the room. Not wanting to seem rude, he reluctantly decided to linger for a bit longer and made a beeline for Hermione and Ginny.
"This is so awkward," Ginny said before he even had a chance to open his mouth.
Hermione tutted, nudging her in the shoulder.
"I think it's a lovely get-together!"
"You - You - Hermione everyone was laughing at you!" she whispered.
Looking mortified, she shook her head in protest.
"They were laughing at my father's story, not me!"
She squinted at her.
"How are you the brightest witch of your age?"
"Come on, let's get out of here. We're only here because he wants stuff from us. He's a leech."
Though Hermione looked disappointed, she didn't manage much more than a sulk.
"I really don't think it's that bad…"
Ginny scowled, rounding on him next.
"Harry, are you coming? You know he only wants you here because he thinks you're the Chosen One."
"But, I am the -"
"Don't say it."
She gave dramatic look between the two of them, then began surveying the area around them. Slughorn was currently invested in conversation with Zabini and Belby... as much as he shouldn't consider it, it did appear quite easy to sneak out without drawing attention. Ginny wasn't as hesitant.
"I'll see you both later."
With that, she made a beeline for the exit. He snatched forward to grab her, but his fingers closed around thin air.
"Ginny - !" he whispered harshly.
He and Hermione looked at each other and he saw the change in her face.
"Don't you dare!"
Her expression dropped, rose, and then dropped again.
"Ginny, wait!"
"Hermione - !"
But she was gone. Almost as if the two had simply disapparated, they mumbled their goodbyes and left through the entrance. Watching the door close, he shook his head.
He had less reason to be here than they did. But at the same time, he also had far more reason to be here than they did. He'd dealt with the increased attention because he knew it would be a means to an end, to help Dumbledore. If he could go through that, he was damn bloody sure they could tolerate the night a bit further.
"... And now I'm alone. Wonderful. Thanks, Hermione, thanks to Ginny…" he muttered.
He looked around.
Slughorn was still distracted, so he needed to look busy with something and quickly. He crossed close to the exit - freedom so close - but diverted his course and arrived at the drinks table.
There was a good variety of drinks on display, most looking far too posh for him, so he settled on a warm butterbeer. Beer in hand, he then took a seat on a tool that was positioned by a relatively large mantelpiece. He supposed that, from the right angle, it could probably obscure enough of him that he could sit in silence until the end of the evening and then make his triumphant farewell to Slughorn at the end.
Then he noticed this secluded corner wasn't as uninhabited as he'd expected it to be.
Daphne Greengrass was a little over a meter away, peering out from under her hair, she looked like she was scanning the club room. Their eyes met and she suddenly stiffened. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then walked over to where he was sat.
"I-Is everything okay?"
He was surprised by her thinking that he was the one who looked troubled, but on second thought, she was probably right. His face may have been giving away his emotions without him noticing, and though skittish, she hardly seemed dim.
"Hiding from Slughorn."
"I can understand that."
He was a little taken off-guard by her straightforward answer, considering in his experience, all Slytherins thought the sun shone out of their Potions Professors arse. Then again, she also didn't seem to carry Zabini's animosity towards him and he supposed, attempting to stick up for one of her friends the last time they met was a more generous act than he saw from most Slytherins.
Right now, friendless and surrounded by strangers, that was all the justification he needed.
"Hey, sorry about the other day."
She flinched, then when her surprise wore off, she smiled.
"Oh - I should be the one who is sorry! Sorry about Tracey, I mean! She's a -"
He held his hand up.
"Stop, You were doing well."
"R-Right, of course," her voice strained in a failed attempt to sound casual. "S-So why are you hiding from Professor Slughorn... ? I thought you t-two were friends?"
There was a lot he could answer to that, but none of it he had the strength for.
"We get on, I'm just not really feeling it, tonight. Tired."
She nodded but didn't look over at him. Despite her being the one to approach him, she seemed to be struggling to meet his eye-line.
"Lessons have been exhausting. Professor Snape has been hounding us... If you think he was a dick in Potions, you haven't had him as your Head of House..."
"I've only ever seen him be biased towards you Slytherins?"
She took a moment to formulate a response, seeming to be thinking carefully before she spoke.
"That's how he is around other houses, but he takes it out on us when they're not around... yelling at us to do better and be smarter... Calls it Slytherin solidarity or s-something like that. He says because of the bias against Slytherin's house, we need to stick together."
"There's not a bias against Slytherin house," he laughed, "they're just biased towards anyone that isn't one of them!"
She shook her head dismissively.
"No... I mean, maybe, b-but... why do you think we're biased towards other houses? Because they're biased towards us. We didn't start the cycle, everyone else did."
"Why would that happen?"
"Probably because the majority of magical dictators, serial killers, and politicians come from Slytherin House... which... ugh... when I word it that way, I can actually see their point."
A smile broke onto his face and he chuckled. She didn't seem to have joked intentionally.
"Well, you're nicer than the other ones I've met."
"O-Oh..."
She looked at him in a way that made him quickly want to take his words back to avoid mixed signals.
But he couldn't, so he had to forge ahead.
"No, no, I just meant... well, the only ones I've really spoken to have been Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Davis, and they haven't exactly set up a very welcoming image."
"Well, not all of us are like them. Not all of us are bullies... there's just an unfortunate loud minority."
He brought his curious gaze to her.
He thought her prettier now he could see her without her glasses on, though that may be him being hypocritical. And she did well encapsulate that librarian aesthetic he'd thought of earlier, nerdy and bookish, while also having a chilled atmosphere around her. Compared to Davis, her mannerisms seemed to be almost completely opposite.
There was truth in his words - she really didn't immediately jump out at him as being (what he pictured as) Slytherin. Suppose it was five years of brainwashing, but he'd always automatically chalked up every Slytherin to being a bully, brute, or Death Eater in training... with oftentimes, all three being a factor. Talking to one now that was just a normal teenage girl seemed a bit unusual.
"W-What are you drinking?"
Her soft voice brought him out of his silent observations. He made a gesture to the drinks stand a few feet over.
"Just Butterbeer. You want one?" he offered.
His innocent suggestion was met with an expression of abject terror as she looked between him and the drinks.
"Oh, no thank you. I-I don't really drink - I shouldn't, I mean."
He perked an eyebrow but immediately dropped it again, in hopes she hadn't seen his interest. His curiosity was peaked, but it wasn't his place to question, so he did not. He attempted to save the day by saying immediately the next thing that popped into his head.
" - but you can sit though, right?"
Using his foot, he nudged a seat beside him out from beneath the dining table. It seemed to work at least partially, as Daphne seemed to... not exactly relax, but at least look slightly less tense.
"O-Only if you don't mind?"
He smiled sarcastically, gesturing around him.
"Not exactly interrupting anything."
She smiled, then sat politely with her hands on her knees. As he took a drink, he noticed her trying her hardest to look like she wasn't looking at him. She had started to fidget her hands nervously like a little child, it was cute, and he caught himself smiling.
"You here alone?" he asked.
She nodded.
"I know Blaise, but... we're not really friends. Aren't your friends here? Hermione Granger and the Weasley sister, I mean? They were here earlier."
"Yeah, until they bummed me off. They reckon Slughorns only put this all together so he can leech of us... they're probably right, but he's still alright."
"Oh, I think he's wonderful. Very eccentric."
"That's one word for it."
Her reaction was a bit odd. He expected an awkward laugh, or attempt to defend the Professor, but she just looked at her feet while smiling and blushing. Silence hung in the air between them.
"And - obviously elephant in the room, I'm only here because he thinks I'm the chosen one."
She fidgeted, looking like she wanted to say something to that, but was resisting it.
"- I think it's an elephant only if you feel that way!"
Supposed she doesn't have a good sense of self-restraint, then. It made him smile, though she blushed heavily.
For a brief moment, he considered telling her about his struggles in that situation but then held it back. For a quite logical reason, he felt uncomfortable talking about it to this relative stranger, even if she had been pretty friendly. The fact she was in Slytherin was... a contributor to that decision.
"W-What? Did that sound stupid?"
"No, no, it sounded wise. I guess you're right. It's more about me than anyone else. Guess I'm not used to the celebrity life... which, now I've just said that, I realize it probably sounds really, really stupid, coming from me."
She blushed and gave a muted laugh, though she could have just as easily been exhaling. So she does understand humor, then?
"I don't think it does... The Prophet always posts rubbish... I don't believe any of it if that's any consolation. And I didn't last year, either. I believed you that The Dark Lord was back, I m-mean."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Ah... thanks. Not many people did. I... appreciate it?"
He really didn't know how else to respond to that.
"S-So you say you want to be an Auror after Hogwarts?"
He looked up at her suddenly. Small talk - is that what they were doing now? Apparently, the sudden look at her must have looked quite sinister.
"I-If that's not too personal to ask!"
It was a really good question, actually. He always knew his post-Hogwarts career would be something in the wizarding world, but he had not many ideas after that. And with all the extra work, Sirius's loss still a fresh wound, and the whole dark-wizard-wanting-to-kill-him thing, he'd really been concentrating on each day as it came rather than making long-term plans.
"... No massive ideas. I always kind of assumed I'd be an Auror, I took my NEWT lessons for it, but that was really more because I had to have something in mind."
She smiled and gave a deep nod, her hands still neatly folded on her knees in front of her.
He must have really let down his guard around this girl to let such a thing slip out. That fact seemed to slightly amuse her. Not wanting his butterbeer to get cold, he finally downed the last of it.
"What - er - what about you?"
"Oh, I'm a potion brewer, it ran in my family. I'm hoping to get taken on by Potages in Diagon Alley after we leave... Not quite as exciting as an Auror, I know..."
"Ah... yeah, cool. Totally valid job, I guess."
There was the slightest flutter of a smile on her face, then quickly replaced with her usual expression of nerves. Neither of them had anything to add after that, so he filled the silence by drinking down more of his butterbeer. He respected her boundaries, but it felt weird being the only one of them drinking.
With the immediate conversation dried up, it isn't long before Slughorn signaled the soon-to-be ending of his little get-together. He checked his watch - sure enough, somehow, in the time he spent first lost in thought and then conversing with Daphne, nearly two hours had passed. As he looked over to the exit over her shoulder, he noticed others beginning to leave.
"Well, I'll see you later, I guess. Thanks for chatting with me."
As he stood up, she quickly sprung up beside him, looking like she'd been waiting for the exact chance to.
"No, no, it's okay! And same! I mean - same, for letting me talk to you, I mean... I didn't really want to be here in the first place..."
Straightening his jacket, he perked a quizzical brow to her.
"Then why'd you come?"
She was barely looking at him, but he could tell she was at her most nervous with what she said next.
"I... I... d-don't really have... f-friends... I wanted to m-meet..."
She went totally still and silent. He didn't have to be in Ravenclaw to figure out the rest of her sentence, which made him regrettably uneasy. Her out-of-place proclamation was left hanging between them awkwardly as he tried to think of some way to respond.
"Well, it was... fun... see you in lesson."
He went to give her a pat on the back but decided against it. He was a bit rattled by the sudden change of attitude and awkwardness and wanted out. He gave her a nod, which is almost definitely didn't see and departed for Slughorn.
"Off already, my dear boy?"
"Quidditch schedule to keep, my old chum!" he forced out, patting Slughorn on the back. "Thank you for the invite, I'll definitely be at the next one!"
He grimaced talking like that, but it was for the show over anything. Slughorns eyes turned positively glowing.
"You will?"
"Yes indeedy! Now, pip-pip and cheerio, goodnight Horace!"
Although he said that, his heart couldn't have felt further away, and the words were left echoing off the dungeon walls as he exited. Suppose it wasn't as bad as he had expected, though. The get-together really was more of a Who's Who than a school club. If nothing else, the food was decent, alcohol was free, and he got to chat with a cute girl, even if she was a little odd... Maybe attending more of these in the future wouldn't be too bad, after all.
