The next few days were some of Harry's worst at Hogwarts.

The closest he'd ever come to feeling like this had been during his second year when a large chunk of the school suspected him of being the heir of Slytherin. This time the difference, of course, was that the animosity in the air was not targeted solely at him, but was unanimously spread about. The general consensus inside the Gryffindor common room was a recurrently bleak one, with someone either crying or passed out from exhaustion at all times somewhere. Suddenly he understood why the older kids always seemed so grumpy. The situation between Daphne and Tracey he had regrettably gotten involved in had been a harbinger of things to come, as the difficulty of lessons and homework had increased tenfold since.

His social life was now entirely non-existent - it was to a point so extreme that he had simply given up altogether on hopes of arranging a time for just he, Ron, and Hermione anymore. If their schedule wasn't denying it, then it would be Hermione still keeping up her (in his opinion) rather pathetic avoidance of Ron. All of this was already on top of Sirius's absence still a very present one for him, Professor Trelawney taking to predicting his death whenever she passed him in the corridor and for some ungodly reason, the fact he'd also decided to take onto him the responsibility of fixing someone else's relationship.

Double Potions was usually a horrible experience, but these days it was nothing short of a holiday. To be shut away in a lesson he vaguely enjoyed with a teacher that actually liked him was, somehow, had become just about the most pleasant thing he could imagine. He spotted Daphne while there - she looked better than she had in the Hospital Wing, but nothing was said between them. He imagined she was probably rather embarrassed about their last encounter, and he still wasn't sure if he was mad at her or not.

In general, as the days passed, he felt oddly separate from everyone around him. It was a state of consistent existentialism so advanced that he wondered whether life with the Dursleys really had been so bad. To think at this very time he could have been sat behind a desk at St. Brutuses' his biggest worry being over which bully he'd have to deal with today. Time was also behaving in a more peculiar fashion than usual, rushing past in great gallops, so one moment he seemed to be sitting down in Defense Against the Dark Arts and the next, walking into lunch.. . and then, where had the morning gone? Now suddenly the day was over and the only thing he was thinking about was the Draught of Living Death and entanglement jinxes.

Despite only retiring to the common room half an hour prior, at half-eleven he decided to pretend he was going to bed early. He definitely was not in the mood for sleep - he would fight to stay awake in fact, determined to enjoy his free time - but he was not in any kind of mood for socializing.

He broke open his seemingly new copy of Advanced Potions Making and finally, after weeks of building tension, let out a placated breath. But five minutes and two pages later, he realized not a single word he had read had actually gotten through to him. It was useless - his brain was numb. He'd finally worked himself past his limit and now his mind refused to even entertain the idea of relaxing.

This was the final home stretch until the Christmas holidays. It was true that he was not looking forward to wandering the great abandoned halls of Grimmauld place for two weeks, but just about anything would be better than the sheer amount of things he was dealing with presently. He just had to survive until then.

Closing the Prince's book, he considered whatever few options he had left. He needed something to do, something to keep his mind away from the breakingly-large amount of work he had to do... something low-effort that did not involve reading... or getting back out of bed.

A cheeky idea popped to mind and he arched a stimulated eyebrow. A burst of hormones swept his being as soon as the thought had occurred, and his body had begun preparing itself.

It had been a long time and he'd definitely earned a few minutes of release.

Cautiously surveying the dormitory, he found only one other bed inhabited.

"Neville…? You awake…?" he asked quietly, praying that he didn't get a response.

The form shifted and a groggy face met him.

"...yea… sup, Harry?" he mumbled.

As quickly as the thought had occurred to him, it vanished, any and all traces of raunchiness fleeing instantly from his system.

"Nothing, mate. Goodnight."

Could he not have a second to himself, genuinely?

Giving in, he settled for a second-best option. He flipped himself over in bed and brought the Marauder's Map out from his mattress. As he lit up his wand, he watched as ink lines began to spread like a spider's web and fan into every corner of the parchment.

Messrs,

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers

are proud to present

THE MARAUDER'S MAP

A stab of regret appeared within him, his wand lingering over Sirius's name.

He flipped the map open and brought it to rest at the center of the castle. Curfew for the older years had been called an hour ago but he could still spot a few stragglers who hadn't returned to their dorms just yet. Two labeled dots told him Dean Thomas and Ernie Macmillian were a floor below him, seemingly heading towards the Room of Requirement, but were in for a sorry time if they didn't soon realize Filch was rapidly approaching in the other direction. Katie Bell was resting in the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey attending her with that assistant he had met, Chiara.

He flipped over a page and in the top left corner, Albus Dumbledore was shown pacing his study. So he was in the castle, then. That definitely made him feel worse.

He sat like this for a while. For some reason, it was quite satisfying to sit and watch the lives of others unfold before his eyes. Even while the castle was not very active, it did still provide a calming notion to know he was not the only one with things going on. On the second level he spotted a group of unrecognisable names making their way slowly through the halls, looking like they didn't want to be caught. Initially he thought this something to be alarmed about - until they made a right turn to the castle's kitchens and all at once, he recognised they were merely younger years sneaking for food, the same way Fred and George used to do. Nostalgia creeping, he gave a weak but honest smile.

Watching the dungeons, his mind immediately thought of Daphne.

Honestly… the injustice of it all was what annoyed him most. Injustice not just on his part, but hers too. If that was the reaction he got trying to seek a member of staff's help, what would she get? The staff knew there were horrible things happening between her and Davis and were allowing it to happen? Realistically, he knew there was probably a lot more to it than that which he was simply not privy to, but such logical thoughts had no place interrupting his self-indulgent anger.

He wondered what Daphne was up to right now. It was late, but not too late, and it was entirely possible she was still active somewhere. Probably with Davis, he imagined. As he brought his wand across the map, illuminating each section, he found the majority of Slytherin all in bed. That was unusual - until he glanced at the clock, and found to his surprise that he'd been in bed for three hours. One o'clock - bloody fantastic, that meant he was up in six hours.

Just as he was about to close the map and go to sleep, however, something caught his eye. He counted through each of them; Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Sally-Ann Perkins, Emma Vane… but no Daphne Greengrass? No Tracey Davis either, but that was hardly a surprise. He hadn't seen head nor tail since Slughorn's party - which was for the best. But where would Daphne be at this time, though? She was not a Prefect and he hardly counted her for sneaking out past curfew. He flipped to the next thing that made the most sense, the Hospital Wing, but again, did not find her marker. This kicked off a period of the next twenty minutes where, for whatever reason, his curiosity chased him to check every corridor of the castle for her. Whether this was concern or curiosity he didn't know, likely a mixture of both.

Then, he caught sight of a single dot dancing around a room in the bottom left-hand corner - a Transfiguration classroom. But the dot wasn't labeled Minerva McGonagall, it was Daphne Greengrass, completely on her own.

He stared at the dot.

What was she doing, sneaking into classrooms at one o'clock in the morning? He watched closely as the dot moved around the room, pausing here and there, almost like it was searching for something. Five minutes later, with this motion still continuing, it seemed more likely to him that that she was pacing. Or jogging back and forth. Exercise, maybe?

He hesitated, thinking carefully. Then… regrettably... curiosity defeated him.

He rolled up the map, stuffed it inside his pajamas, and began hurrying out of bed.

Others had come in while he was using the map so he was careful not to wake them. He tiptoed to his cabinet, digging out clothes as fast yet silently as he could, sliding them on in quick succession. Slipping into a pair of slippers and plucking his dad's invisibility cloak off the top of his trunk for good measure, he silently made his way out of the dormitory and down the steps to the common room, keeping his map and wand close to him. The common room was in near darkness, the room abandoned and the fire had since burned out. It made slipping on the invisibility cloak easy.

He opened the entrance a couple of inches, there was no sign of life outside, so very carefully, he edged out the common room. Out in the corridor, he examined the Marauders Map to check the coast was still clear. The dots belonging to Filch and Mrs. Norris were safely in their office and nothing else seemed to be moving apart from Peeves, who was on the other side of the castle. Still, Daphne remained in the Transfiguration classroom on her own.

He turned and set off in the opposite direction toward the nearest staircase. He was going to see what she was up to. It just didn't seem in character, somehow, for innocent, awkward Daphne to be sneaking around this late at night. She surely had a reason to be, that's all he wanted to find out. And if it was nothing then maybe he had a chance of getting some closure to her and Davis's situation.

The castle was very dark. It had been a while since he'd been sneaking around after curfew so often. He came down the stairs as quietly as possible, though the faces in some of the portraits still turned curiously at the squeak of his slippers and the rustle of his pajamas. He crept along the corridor before pushing aside a tapestry about halfway along, then proceeding down a narrower staircase - a shortcut that would take him down two floors. He kept glancing down at the map, wondering.

As the corridors grew more familiar and he recognized the direction he was heading, he abandoned checking the map. He recognised the room now as the one McGonagall had used during their first and second year, before the castle had it's refitting. Almost there, he began jogging. He wanted to make sure he didn't lose her, but didn't want to waste time stopping to check the map again.

He ran the last few paces before coming to an abrupt halt before the door. Pushing it open, he pulled off his invisibility cloak.

The room was in semi-darkness; the flames from the fireplace were the only source of light.

"Daphne!"

But it would have done him some good to keep checking the map. Because there indeed was a girl in this room, but it was certainly not Daphne.

"Oh, bugger - sorry, thought it was someone else!"

A cackle greeted him.

"For a second it almost was. You just missed her."

His stomach sank.

He hadn't noticed immediately in the low light, but as the womanly figure turned around, he came face to face with quite possibly the last person in the school he was looking forward to seeing.

"Davis!"

She grinned like a beast.

"Potter!"

All at once, his face was burning. The anger he had been feeling for weeks seemed to burst through a dam in his chest. He reached for his wand before thinking and stabbed it through the air toward her.

She, however, simply moved so she was sat on a desk and regarded him with mild curiosity. She paid no mind to his wand and began swinging her legs like a bemused child.

"What'cha gonna do with that?"

"GIVE ME A REASON!"

He stormed the room, footsteps echoing with each stamp. At this sudden movement he did indeed see, for the first time, a flash of fear across her face, which she quickly remedied by bringing her feet into a cross-legged position.

"Chill out, Potter, you're gonna wake the dead -"

"THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!? GIVE ME A REASON WHY I SHOULDN'T PUT YOU STRAIGHT IN THE HOSPITAL WING!? WHY SHOULDN'T I DO TO YOU WHAT YOU DID TO HER!?"

"Oooh, somebody is -"

He lunged forward, not with his wand hand, but with the other. His palm collided with her adam's apple and his fingers sealed around her throat.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT… THE FUCK UP!"

As soon as he made contact with her skin, she began smiling... God damn that shit-eating grin she had. Even though he had the upper hand, he still couldn't help but feel demeaned by it.

But her heart was pounding, he could feel it. Could it be that she was actually scared?

"...Put pressure on the sides," she wheezed.

He squinted.

"What?"

"Harder on the sides, just like this…"

She snaked her hand up and gripped around his, squeezing tighter.

"... perfect…" she smiled, with the merest trace of a growl.

She was enjoying it…?

He quickly snatched his hand back with disgust, shaking it as though it had just been submersed in some sewage.

After taking a second to put his nerve back in place, he raised his wand hand at her again.

"You're fucked!"

She smirked and in response, he felt his stomach clench.

"You're only just figuring that out now?"

"How do you get away with it? Why do you get away with it?" he growled.

"Social engineering, darlin'. In a world full of lock doors, whoever has the key is king..."

He shook his head, giving a short and nasty laugh. He wasn't doing this. She wasn't taking him seriously. When he spoke next, it was quiet, but with a voice absolutely alive in venom.

"I know what you... I know how you treat her... Give me a reason why I shouldn't free all of us from you right now?" he spat in his most menacing tone.

An extremely tense silence followed these words. Then, with an act as completely opposite end of the spectrum as possible, she shrugged playfully.

"Well… you wouldn't go out of your way to harm a defenseless and unarmed little girl, would you?"

His eye flickered to the side. She'd put her wand down on the desk, but it was still in clear view. He gestured to it.

"You aren't unarmed."

She followed his eyeline and frowned.

"Oh, yeah… bugger..."

Then he watched in stunned horror as she picked up her wand and, like it was the simplest thing in the world, snapped it in two. Several gold sparks shot out of the broken center, briefly illuminating her calm expression. She threw the pieces forward, both bits clattering loudly to the floor in front of him.

Sheer shock overrode any of his feelings as his mouth freely dangled open.

"...w...w-wha…"

"There we go!"

She jumped off the desk and sauntered forwards.

"Unarmed now! So what ya gonna do? Still wanna hurt me?" she mocked, her steely smile still in place, but her eyes were colder than ever.

As she approached, he backed away. Somehow, after witnessing such an act, he was now more scared of her than when she was armed.

"Wha… w-what're y… you…?"

Again, his mind failed him.

She fell silent, though still surveying him with satisfaction - his ears were absolutely ringing.

"You - you - w-why…"

He kept stammering, which was making it worse. She knew how to unravel him.

He took a second to purge his anxieties and reclaim control of his words.

"... Daphne deserves better than you. You're totally fucked in the head. I saw what you did to her, I took her to the hospital wing - I know what she's going through - and It's over."

Her thick eyebrows contracted slightly, genuine confusion riddled across her face.

"Oh, that? That's what you're going so mental over?"

Somewhere under his numb anger he felt a ripple of disbelief. What else did she think he was talking about?

"Yes!"

He didn't know how he was expecting her to react. Maybe introspectively, but she only grew angry. Yet as she did, she also seemed calmer, in a way. More sure of herself and in control. She had dropped her cheerful tone and smile now. Her face wore a very ugly look indeed.

"Mate - back off. You don't know a goddamn thing about either of us. We're perfectly happy the way we are."

He scowled in vicious mockery.

"Nah. You're a dirty liar, Davis. I saw what you did to her. I know everything."

The concept of being wrong seemed to confuse her. He took the opportunity to go on the attack - ignoring the really odd fact that he was having to think so strategically about this conversation beforehand.

"You don't know shi-"

"Shut up! You don't get to say shit! You've been abusing Daphne, skipping lesson, harassing god-knows-how-many-other-people and it's fucking-enough! I have other shit going on than to arsed about you - I'm not letting it carry on, I've told a teacher and I -"

"BAHAHAHAHA!"

Her throaty laugh shattered his tirade.

"YOU - YOU TOLD A TEACHER? OH, WONDERFUL! THAT'LL SAVE HER!"

She threw her head back in laughter, kicking her feet out as she held her stomach. His knuckles turned white against his wand.

"Potter, Potter!" she laughed. "She was in that state because I'd just fucked the absolute shit out of her the night before! She could barely walk because of how sore her minge was!"

He recoiled at her wording.

He wouldn't even let himself entertain such a thought. That was a lie. She was just saying stuff to piss him off. Everything she did was just to piss him off, nothing was out of bounds. He couldn't let her get through to him.

Surely it couldn't be sustainable for her to be so consistently like this to everyone? Though Daphne was likely timid to stand up for herself, Pansy was just as bad in other ways, and most of the insults must fly over Crabbe and Goyle's head, but surely Malfoy must have an opinion on this? How had she functioned for this long? He tried not to think about it. If she was doing this to psyche him out, then he had to stay calm or she won. She must absolutely, definitely not win.

"That's a lie."

Davis dropped her mouth in an exaggerated gasp.

"Oh, is it? There I was, thinking I was there!"

"You broke her nose!"

She glowered in sick pleasure.

"My groin broke her nose - that bit wasn't intentional, I just rode her too hard. I have quite the libido... and so does she."

His neck twisted, physically shaking the image out of his head.

"SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

He had to pull it back. She was winding him up. Nothing she said was true. She was winding him up. Nothing was true. She was just a wind up. He couldn't let her get to him. If he break, she won and she knew that.

"What's wrong, Potter? Knew you were a bit faggy but I didn't think it was this bad!" she taunted.

"You're disgusting. You're horrible. You're… You're…"

He stammered for a second too long and she was on him again.

"Girl on girl is disgusting now, is it? Gay and homophobic, woaah man, that's a new one!"

He winced at the wording. His wand hand was shaking now, begging to be used. It took all he had to resist committing a crime... but he was starting to internally debate the consequences.

She smacked her forehead loudly.

"Now I get it! You're intimidated by it! This raging sex machine scares you, doesn't it, Potter?"

She brought a hand sensually down herself, starting at her chest and working down to her hips. Again her robes were too short for her, fixating him on her cleavage and exposed midrift. He did not have the self control to stop himself.

"You're a virgin!" she chuckled. "You don't have a fucking clue what to say to me, do you? That's why you're such a pussy... You're scared of me."

The word triggered something fierce - enough for him to briefly regain control of his anger.

"I'm not a pussy."

"Prove it. You got a wand and I don't, so prove it."

He caught her eye and saw at once that the teasing had stopped and she was in-fact, now serious.

"Prove it, Potter," she repeated.

She had abandoned her baby voice now. His wand hand was sweating. If he wasn't gripping it as if his life depended on it, it could very well have slipped from his grasp.

Davis shifted suddenly, again moving closer. He stood his ground, sweating boldly now, but could do little more than watch as her face came to rest inches from his wand. She let herself go crosseyed, furthering her demented looked.

"What are you going to do now? Don't tell me… the cruciatus curse?" she fake-gasped. "You wanna make me writhe in pain on the floor... Would that make you feel big, then? Would that make you feel like a man? To see me degraded on the floor, begging for mercy? Is that what you want?"

She slithered out from his wand's range, moving closer and talking with a purr.

"Or the Imperius Curse? Maybe you don't like being a virgin anymore… maybe you wanna take control of me and finally let loose all of that virgin rage?"

She looked into him.

"You wanna rape me, Potter... ? Make me do anything your perverted heart desires, then obliviate me at the end?" she paused to give a perverted smirk. "You wouldn't have to do that… I wouldn't tell, I promise…"

And she moved again, swapping to his other side.

"Or Avada Kedavra…" she spoke a lot more gravely. "Maybe you're right and the whole world would be better off without a monster like me… maybe then Daphne could live a peaceful life and actually achieve things without me ruining everything good she has going…"

She gave a demon howl of laughter.

"Or... maybe you just really fucking hate me that much? You wanna do it for you? I can respect that."

Finally completing the circle around him, she returned to the position in front of his wand.

"Ooorr… why not do all three?" she suggested with an exclamation. "Crucio me until I'm a sobbing, crippled wreck on the floor... rape what's left of me… quick killing curse to tie up loose ends, then dump the evidence at the bottom of the Great Lake? What's wrong with that? Nobody would miss a screw-up like me! Do it, Potter!"

A hatred rose inside him that was, again, unlike anything anyone had ever been able to get from him before.

"Do it!"

Not the Dursleys, not Malfoy, not Umbridge - he didn't even hate Voldemort himself more than he loathed everything about the woman before him right now. It was so intense that, for the briefest of seconds, he actually considered it. He considered following through with her words - or the curcatious part of them, at the very least. She shouldn't be able to get away with it. She deserved it.

But when he still didn't move, Davis did.

Her lips parted, her tongue left her mouth and flicked against the tip of his wand. She swirled on its end, watching it now instead of him. Then, she closed her eyes and stepped forward, taking it into her mouth as she did so. She carried on until at least half of his wand had pushed through her lips - about six inches of it, and she didn't look like she was stopping.

It was a disgustingly memorizing sight. He couldn't quite look away and hated himself for it. Familiar arousal sparked to life inside him, acting of its own accord, and for this briefest of seconds, he was completely enamored by this image of her; eyes closed as she went to town on his wand.

Ultimately he retook his honour and tore himself back Specks of something wet hit his face - he knew what it was, but thought best not to dwell on it. He stumbled back, trying to put distance between them, but something stopped him. He was only wearing thin pajamas with his school cloak on the top and if she looked down or moved any closer, she'd discover him for the man he was. And he was determined she wouldn't know how hard that had made him.

She laughed, but this time it did not piss him off or make him want to bash her head in. Rather it was a gentle caress of his ears, and sent an unfamiliar ripple of shivers down his spine.

"Potter, look at me."

In a panic, he did.

She raised four fingers, two on each hand, and pointed to her lips. She had shining black lipstick - almost rubbery in texture.

"I want you to fuck these…"

Her fingers lowered to her neck.

"... until this breaks."

There he saw a previously unnoticed ribboned choker.

"Y-you're sick," escaped his mouth.

She smoldered him.

"And you're my cure... Come give mamma some sugar."

In his pants, he was raving to take her up on the offer. In his head, he was repeatedly telling himself no such offer existed.

She was trying to trap him, entice him to do something horrific... She was a trap. Everything about her was either fake or designed to piss him off, he couldn't give in… no matter how hard he wanted... No matter how badly he wanted to smack her against a wall and force his dick down her throat, just to shut her up…

He shook his head violently, purging the intrusive thought.

… What the fuck was he talking about?

"PPFFFT….. BAHAHAHAHA!"

Her ever obnoxious laughter shattered the classroom.

"Oh, Merlin's Beard, your face!"

She fell to pieces, holding her stomach like she was in pain. As annoying as he found her, this was nothing short of an angel in disguise, as he finally let out a breath he had no idea he'd been holding in. He shuffled his cloak to his front, so as much fabric as possible hid his raging member.

"Ohhh, men love this idea of themselves as big sex machines but the second they meet a woman on the same level they just run away with their tail between their legs!" she announced to the room.

She glowered at him, all traces of seductiveness gone in an instant.

"Potter, you don't have to rape me, I'm kidding. Obviously I'm kidding. I'm always kidding! I just like teasing people, calm the hell down."

She shook her head dismissively. The speed at which she'd completely changed moods had again, completely yanked the carpet out from under him.

"I only get so far because you let me. If you just laughed and went along with it I'd probably back off... Have you honestly never been bullied before?"

Blundering, he could do little more than half-shout the first words that occurred to him.

"No bully has tried to fuck me before!"

His lingering erection felt confused, but refused to leave.

She chuckled.

"I don't think anyone has tried to fuck you before... "

He blinked rapidly. He was doing fine and still had the upper hand, he told himself. She actually gave pretty solid advice - if he let her in, it would only encourage her. He had to stay strong against her.

He had to focus.

Clenching his teeth, his lips opened in a snarl.

"You need to stay away from Daphne."

"Ohhhhh, this still?"

She groaned, lulling her head from side to side like a child being told off.

"I told you the truth! Me and Daffy are just rough, okay? Ain't a thing to worry about… I'm a dickhead, but I'm not that kind of dickhead."

She sounded sincere now, but he wasn't having it. Everything she did was a wind up and this was no different. Words meant nothing, he had to see it to believe.

"I don't believe a second of that."

"You told a Professor, right? What'd they say?"

In such extreme circumstances, it took him a second to recollect the memory.

"... they said they were aware of what was going on between the two of you and steps were being made to prevent it."

She tutted, shaking her head as though the thought of this annoyed her.

"Yeah, sounds about right. Prevent it, my arse."

He really couldn't think of anything to say. The inside of his head seemed to be in complete disarray, as though his brain had been ransacked.

"You people just can't keep well enough alone, can you? Something doesn't make sense so you have to go digging and digging until you ruin everything. Fuckin prudes. Potter, leave it alone. It's not your place. Be friends with Daffy, be friends with me, but don't try to interfere with what's going on with us, capiche? We're happy the way we are."

He really didn't know what to say to that.

She had changed again to something… entirely opposite. Now she was not the rough, flirtatious tomboy, or the giggling schoolgirl she was when he entered… now she seemed almost... business-like? She spoke like he'd seen politicians in both the magical and muggle worlds do, with good annunciation and words chosen specifically - she was even moving her arms in the exaggerated way they often seemed to enjoy doing.

"It's a good thing you're doing," she continued. "I see how it looks, and I get it. But it's a formal warnin'... leave it alone now, okay? Games are over."

He thought again about why he was here. Arguing with her was pointless, yet in a weird way, he thought he'd been almost looking forward to it. And she was right, he could not understand her. Even if he did, she wouldn't care. Him to her was like a woodlouse crawling on an elephant: wholly insignificant. She had confidence that he did not. And it could be that reason why he was here now, in an almost-shouting match with her, because he wanted to prove his bravery.

He hated her. He didn't know what else he can do. A year ago, he thought he would have just punched her and let the consequences play out as they may. But now, he couldn't risk it. If she were to strike him back, even unarmed, she probably had the strength to overpower him. So in the end, the only thing he could do was look at her in silence, knowing he had no reply, and hate her, feeling completely at a loss. Oddly, she took that only as encouragement.

"You can put your sodding wand away, I'm not gonna attack you!"

At the very least… she was unarmed. And she didn't seem to be an immediate threat to him right now, anyway.

He didn't put his wand away but he did lower it. She noticed this, watching his motion, then chuckling to herself. He didn't know what to read into that, but pushed past it.

"Was that so difficult? Now, tell me what you want?"

He was still on tenterhooks around her, but even he could see there was an explanation owed there. He'd still be a dismissive dick about it, though.

"Where'd Daphne go? What were you doing out at this time?"

"I already said, you just missed her. She's gone to sleep. She was up late waiting for me. How'd you know she was here?"

He didn't know how to answer that. The idea of Davis knowing about the existence of an omnipotent, all-powerful map didn't sit right with him.

As she talked, she gestured with her elbow to a second door in the room, which opened out onto the corridor opposite. He and Daphne must have just missed each other - if he'd had just kept checking the map, this whole intrusion could have been avoided.

"... I saw her come in here and wondered what she was doing."

"And you waited an hour before coming in? She'd been here for a while."

"I had my own business to do… and decided to check on her when I was coming back."

"What were you doing?"

"None of your business."

"Right… so you must have seen me coming in then, right?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Right."

There was a pause, in which she looked at him skeptically. He really didn't see what part of his answer was unbelievable, but she looked like she wasn't taking any of it.

"... right?"

She crossed her arms.

"You have no business calling me a liar, Potter. You were stalking her. What do you want with her?"

Now they'd gone full circle and she appeared to be the one telling him off. Bold of her to think that was the case.

"I'm not a liar. I just want to make sure she's safe."

She perked an eyebrow, smiling, but not her usual teasing smile.

"You like her? What, you were hopin' to scare off her abusive girlfriend and be her knight in shining armor?"

Again, he had to fight hard to keep any reactions off his face. With the adrenaline pumping through his system, he thought he'd actually done well to remain as composed as he had thus far. She was trying different ways now, but she still wouldn't crack him.

"No," he said simply. "I'd do the same for anyone… I couldn't see what was going on and just not get involved."

"Well, now you know. So leave it alone. You leave us alone and I won't tell Professor Snape you were stalking a girl around the castle at night... Or that you snapped my wand, prick."

He eyed up the dead remains of her wand on the floor. Truly, a miserable sight.

"You are… absolutely mental…"

She grinned like a hyena.

"Got you going though, didn't it?"

He shook his head in disbelief. So little about this girl made sense that, frankly... her mere existence had long begun to piss him off.

"How could you just… j-just…"

She waved him off, still sporting that cheeky grin she wore so well.

"I'll get it mended. Worth it for the look on your face."

For a brief second, her smile inspired something inside him. He found courage from somewhere and spoke more frankly than he was used to, and possibly even revealing too many of his cards in the process.

"So, what? All of this is a joke then... ? It's all just teasing... ? You're just… putting it on for a laugh?"

He could already think of about a million things she might say, and he was preparing his heart to sink on hearing any of them.

She sat back down.

"If you like."

Okay, maybe not that.

"What does that mean?"

She closed her eyes in a smug beam.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. If it makes you feel better, pretend I was joking. Not like you're ever gonna find out… You'd have to have balls for that."

That was about as helpful of an answer as all the good she had done for him. She might have been being sincere - that she really was just some malicious, sinister version of Fred and George - but if she wouldn't give him the decency of a definitive answer, he would not give her the benefit of the doubt. As far as he was concerned this was all just another windup... despite him actually making effort to level with her.

There was not much else left for him to say, at that point. Nothing that wasn't him just repeating himself. His warning had been given - and duly ignored - so unless he was prepared to curse and citizens arrest an unarmed fellow student, there really wasn't much left he could do. Did that mean she'd won again?

"...Why are you like this?"

She made an abrupt noise, something between a laugh and a hiccup, but sounding like neither.

"Because I like to have fun! I'm here for a good time, not a long time. Trust me, I don't wanna be in this shithole of a school either."

"Then why not leave?"

She sighed whimsically, swinging her head to the side as though she were looking over a picturesque image, but was in fact just a shelf with books on.

"I've got a few things… Daphne, being one. Qualifications to actually get a job are another… I'm not unrealistic, I know I gotta function in society. Smoking and drinking aren't cheap."

That seemed as sincere as she had been all night... though he still believed this was yet another wind-up, he thought at least that part had been truthful.

"Then how come you're always skipping lessons?"

"I don't skip lessons… lessons skip over me."

He frowned.

"What does that mean?"

She rounded on him suddenly, looking fierce

"None of your fucking business, okay?" she spat.

That was the first time he'd heard genuine aggression from her all night.

He couldn't think of anyone more unqualified to talk about minding someone's business than her. Talking to her was like a parade of hypocrisies that just kept coming.

"...Alright."

"I'm just as capable as you, Potter. I'm not retarded like Daphne. I just have other stuff going on."

His mind absolutely boggled how she could talk about her own girlfriend like that.

This was useless, he was getting nowhere. It was like trying to talk to a brick wall that also hates you. That was, finally, his cue to leave.

"You should get back before curfew. Prefects are about."

It was about as pleasant of a departure message he could leave her on. Though he wasn't entirely convinced this wasn't all just another massive manipulation on her part, tonight had definitely given him a lot to think about. And really, if he didn't have the balls to take her down himself, there was not much more he would gain from talking to her. Outside from getting wound up, which was exactly what she wanted.

She hadn't won this time, that was the important bad. And he hoped she knew that as well.

"Wait."

She spoke with authority and nothing else, as if it was just a particularly commanding afterthought. Only a very powerful or very arrogant person could tell someone to hold on in such a manner. He was sort of impressed.

"Before we go, I have a secret I wanna tell you."

He looked at her cautiously. She seemed excited, which worried him.

"What is it?"

"You're gonna have to come closer to hear it."

He absolutely was not going to do that.

She grinned harder, squinting as her voice grew into a whisper.

"I wanna whisper. Come on, be brave!"

Keeping his wand prepared, he carefully edged himself closer, ready to leap back at any second.

This was most definitely one of her schemes, but he'll be damned if he wasn't the slightest bit curious what could constitute a 'secret' from the most oversharing person on the planet.

"... Closer."

He had officially entered her personal space. He brought his ear to her grinning lips.

"Next time we meet… you and me are gonna fuck."

He pulled back quickly, expecting her to burst into laughter. But when she didn't, he took the cue himself.

"No... we're really not," he shook his head, chuckling at her gall.

"Oh yea," she nodded, sure of herself. "You'd have done it tonight if I made the first move. I saw that - hard-ons aren't exactly subtle."

He fumbled to push more of his cloak to his front. He was more annoyed than embarrassed if he was honest.

"Well, you have a girlfriend."

She bobbed her head, considering something.

"And you like to be teased. I know it when I see it… That's why you don't shut me down - you like it."

Though he smiled at this, make no mistake, the suggestion made him furious. He began to radiate towards the exit, shaking his head with disbelief.

"One extra thing, Potter?"

He looked back but kept moving. She began swinging her legs off the desk again like a child. She gave him a wink.

"Goodnight kiss for mummy?"

Picking up his cloak off the desk closest to the door, he brought up his middle finger at her.

"Go to hell, Davis."

She grinned more intensely.

"Hell is empty and the devils are here, mate."

Closing the door between them, he pushed a puff of frustration out of his diaphragm. He took a second to compose himself before beginning again. Starting the long trek back to his dormitory with a mind full of many thoughts, doubts and questions, one fact specifically lingered at the foremost of his head.

Even he could admit it... that had been a really cool line.