Chapter 12

Breaking Bad

Daphne developed a new sense of nervousness as Valentine's Day approached. She was preparing to go out with a boy who was essentially a complete stranger, and in contrast to her last date, she was attracted to this one. She was going to be breaking new ground and it was starting to freak her out.

Tracey and Millicent also had dates so that eased her nerves slightly but she still had butterflies as they walked to meet their dates at the carriages. They all split up with promises to meet up later.

Walt was very much the gentleman: polite, courteous, and chivalrous, among other things. His own slight nervousness also put her at ease a bit as well. He was quick to smile and while he wasn't roguishly handsome, he was more than just cute, in her eyes. He took interest in her and allowed her to finish her sentences. He easily cleared the admittedly low bar set by Boot.

She tried to avoid any comparisons to Harry. First of all, it just irritated her to think about him, and second, it just wasn't a fair comparison; apples to oranges — well, the circumstances were, at least.

She couldn't have asked for a better date. Walt was interesting and funny, in a nerdy sort of way, but she enjoyed it. He was such a gentleman that when he didn't even try to kiss her at the end of the date, she went ahead and kissed him on the cheek.

It wasn't public knowledge, but Hermione let her know what a disaster Harry's date with Chang was. She allowed herself some satisfaction which was only amplified as she described the pleasant time she'd had with Walt.

Hermione appeared happy for her but Daphne could sense she didn't like witnessing this Cold War going on between her friends. Ever since their altercation, the glares and scowls sent between Daphne and Harry had become less and less discreet.

Of course, her joy at Harry's romantic struggles were short-lived as he rebounded rather quickly and had Megan Jones on his arm over the coming weeks. When that was over, he transitioned to Parvati Patil who was immediately followed by her sister Padma. That instigated a whole other set of rumors about Harry actually dating both of them at the same time during that entire period.

It wasn't her plan, but it was a good thing that she and Walt got along well enough to continue seeing each other because she desperately needed the distraction after the stupid Quibbler article came out. Everything was "Harry this" and "Harry that," she was ready to explode.

This is where Walt was most helpful. He was aware enough to realize she got upset when people asked her about her ex. He wasn't the most intriguing person, and though this never was the intent — and she would never admit it — he was more than an adequate distraction from her animosity towards Harry.

After a few weeks, the hoopla died down, and along with that came a welcome mental reprieve from her thoughts of Harry. Of course, now that her current relationship was her primary focus, she started to become aware of the lack of excitement it contained. Excitement, she didn't know she needed.

If Walt wasn't so nice, it wouldn't have been hard to end it. But he was, and spending time with him wasn't a chore by any means. She just didn't look forward to it like she thought she should. It wasn't as if he seemed completely smitten with her either, so she didn't feel like she was leading him on by continuing to be together.

She couldn't remember what brought the topic up but when Hermione mentioned that she'd brewed Polyjuice potion in her second year, it was as if she'd lit off a firework in Daphne's head. Daphne didn't even bother with the obvious follow-up question. She bolted from the class with barely a goodbye.

She tracked down the individuals she was looking for without issue and pulled them aside.

'What can we do for you, Daphne?' one of the twins asked. She still had trouble differentiating the two.

'Do you have Polyjuice?' she asked in earnest.

The two shared an uncomfortable glance which more than answered her question. 'Er, we—'

'I need it,' she stated.

'It's not exactly for sale. It's just for our personal use. We can't have that getting in the wrong hands.'

'I just need one vial. And no one else will touch it,' she argued.

The twins looked at each other in contemplation, and after some sort of telepathic conversation, they nodded.

'You can't tell a soul where you got it,' one said seriously.

'Not a soul,' the other reaffirmed.

Might've been the first time she'd seen them in a one hundred percent no joke mode.

'Done.'

'So. . . Er. . . What are you going to use it for?'

'Do you make a habit of asking your clients their intentions?' she smirked.

'No, not typically.'

'It won't be a secret for long but it'd be best if I left you with plausible deniability,' Daphne said with a wink.

They completed the transaction in enough time for her to be in time for her next class.

As dinner wound down that night, Daphne told her friends she was going to take a small detour on the way out and would meet them at the exit. They responded with some curious looks and shrugs as Daphne walked towards the Gryffindor table.

Daphne paused when she was right behind Harry and quickly ripped out a small tuft of hair. She didn't wait for any response and walked away.

'Ow,' Harry yelped but he looked over the wrong shoulder so he didn't notice it was Daphne until she was halfway down the table.

Ron, on the other hand, had seen Daphne's approach and sniggered at his friend's plight. 'There's a saying about a scorned woman out there, I think. And you're getting a first-hand lesson, mate.'

Daphne winked at the twins as she strode past. Their eyebrows rose in unison and they both cringed before shrugging and going back to their meal.

'Ok, what was that all about?' Tracey asked.

'I'll tell you later. I am going to need both your help,' Daphne replied.

She explained what she wanted from each of them and they agreed, if only somewhat reluctantly.

Her plan was set. She only had to wait for the right time to spring it. Hermione kept trying to get her to come back to the DA meetings so she knew when some of them were; the next meeting she knew about would be the perfect opportunity.

The following Wednesday, towards the end of their Arithmancy class, Hermione told her they were having a meeting Saturday night and Daphne answered with her usual polite refusal. There was no reason to act any differently now.

Saturday evening arrived, Millicent went to get Umbridge, and Daphne and Tracey went to the prearranged corridor. Once any students that might have seen them waking together cleared out, Daphne stepped into an alcove, dropped a strand of the hair she'd pulled from Harry into the vial of Polyjuice, and downed the concoction.

She shook her head and shivered as she swallowed. 'Yuck, that stuff's rancid.' She reached to her throat as she could already hear her voice deepening.

Tracey's eyes widened as Daphne stretched and reshaped before her eyes. She brought her wand to Daphne's tie and changed it to Gryffindor colors while Daphne emerged from the alcove.

Less than a minute later, they heard the clatter of a wand on the ground. That should be Millicent and also their signal.

Daphne rounded on Tracey, forcing her back against the wall, the tip of Daphne's wand almost pressing into Tracey's chest.

'You still don't believe he has returned?' Daphne bellowed the question now in Harry's voice, now in Harry's everything.

'I don't know,' Tracey stammered meekly.

'He has! And I'm not leaving until I hear you admit it!'

'Ok, ok. . . I believe. . . You-Know-Who has returned.' Tracey had the scared girl act down pat.

'No!' Daphne roared, 'Say his name!'

'No, please don't make me,' she whimpered.

'Say. . . his. . . name!' The authority with which she spoke shocked even herself.

'V-V-Voldemort,' Tracey squeaked out.

She heard a gasp from around the corner and then Millicent's voice, 'No, wait. There's more.'

Good, she was holding her back, Umbridge must be chomping at the bit.

'And who has defeated Voldemort already. . . multiple times?' Daphne asked arrogantly, exact truth wasn't as important as pompousness.

'You have.'

'We can do better than that. . . Say. my. name.' Daphne demanded coolly.

'H-Harry Potter. . . has defeated V-Voldemort.'

'You're damn right. And I'll do it again if that's what it takes,' she said with obnoxious confidence. 'You tell anyone that says otherwise to come say it to my face and I'll set them straight. Run along now.'

Tracey immediately took off in a dead sprint in the direction of Umbridge. She lowered her shoulder and cut the corner sharply, trusting Millicent had guided the toad into the proper position. They had predicted that her soft underbelly would cushion most of Tracey's fall in the collision. But this was one part of the plan Tracey has no reservations about, her chance to assault Umbridge and likely face no consequences, she was all in.

Daphne knew it had gone as planned when she heard the loud 'Oomph,' come from Umbridge, along with the sound of bodies crashing to the floor.

She walked around the corner to see Tracey rolling off Umbridge, apologizing profusely for not watching where she was going, and also claiming to be not in her right mind after the verbal assault she'd just been through.

Umbridge ate it up, telling Tracey she had nothing to apologize for. And then her eyes fell on Daphne, in Potter form.

'Potter!' she snapped as she awkwardly got to her feet. 'It appears my lesson has yet to sink in.'

'What's my punishment this time?' Daphne asked defiantly. She was eager to hear what she had just set Harry up for.

'Detention,' Umbridge replied coolly, too coolly.

'Oh, no! Please, not more detention.' She tried to sound sarcastic. Harry went through detentions like candy, it couldn't be that bad. But Umbridge seemed to take her words at face value.

'Oh, yes. . . Detention. . .' she said with a cruelty in her voice that didn't match Daphne's vision of detention. 'Now!'

'Now?' Daphne didn't have to fake the shock in her voice now.

'Now! Miss Bulstrode, make sure Miss Davis is taken care of. Potter, to my office.'

Daphne was able to sneak a worried glance to her friends as she walked by and she tapped her wrist where one would wear a watch. They weren't sure how long the Polyjuice was good for, it wasn't supposed to be an issue. Hopefully, they picked up on the fact that they had to get her out of the office sooner rather than later.

It was obvious where Daphne was to sit once they reached the office. Umbridge placed parchment and a very unique quill on the table.

'I find your arrogance astounding. Do I have to remind you again about our message to liars?'

'Obviously,' Daphne retorted.

Umbridge just stared at the back of her right hand.

Eventually, Daphne followed her gaze, and then she saw it, the scar: I must not tell lies.

'I must not tell lies,' Daphne said softly.

'Ah, now you remember. It's a shame you didn't read your reminder before spreading more lies. Now. . . write.'

Daphne wrote the first letter and watched as the red line stung itself onto the back of her hand. She couldn't hold in the wince of pain.

'Did you say something?' Umbridge asked maliciously.

'No, ma'am,' she replied with just a shred of defiance.

Daphne continued with the lines. It hurt like mad, like no pain she'd ever experienced before, not that she had a lot of experience with pain. She bit her lip to prevent any more moans or groans from escaping her. If the bitch was going to get off on her pain, well, Daphne was determined to leave her unsatisfied.

She imagined Harry would've done the same thing. He probably didn't even grimace when he had his detentions.

How many times had he done this?

Days? For sure.

Weeks? Probably.

When she planned to get Harry into detention she had no idea it meant torture. Perhaps, there was a time when she would've been ok with that idea. But not now, not even in her initial rage-filled reaction, would she have submitted him to this.

Now, beyond the physical, she was putting herself through her own emotional self-torment. She didn't think she was ever going to ever be able to look Harry in the eye again. She had to force herself to stop thinking about Harry so she could focus on not displaying her physical discomfort.

The minutes ticked by slowly and the wound in her hand grew redder. She needed to get out of this office, and soon, it had already been over two hours.

Finally, there was a knock at the door and Umbridge went to answer it.

Daphne could hear Millicent's voice describing some commotion that needed the professor's attention right away. Daphne kept her head down so as to not draw any undue suspicion on herself. Millicent's voice lowered to a whisper and whatever she said was enough to convince the toad it was worth leaving.

'Potter, I will see you every day at 6 next week. Now, get out of my office.'

Daphne didn't hesitate and she was gone. Though she tried to make her exit as dignified as possible.

'Psst, this way,' Tracey called out just above a whisper.

'Took you long enough. What did you come up with?' Daphne asked as she caught up.

'We had to find something substantial. She told her she'd found Potter's Battalion. It's actually a group of third-years that have been meeting somewhere. Hopefully, they scatter in time.'

'Well, you have no idea how glad I am it worked,' Daphne said as they put some distance between them and the office. 'In here,' she said, opening the door to a classroom and stepping aside in a chivalrous fashion.

Tracey smiled coquettishly and batted her eyelashes as she entered. 'Why thank you Mr Charming.'

Daphne rolled her eyes as Tracey walked past and she followed her in. As soon as the door closed behind Daphne, she was ambushed by Tracey pushing her up against the door and pressing her lips to hers.

'Tracey!' she exclaimed after pushing her away, wiping her lips with the back of her sleeve.

'Sorry. Harry's hot. And even though he's on and off the market nowadays, I knew you wouldn't approve of me making a move. Ron either, for that matter. I just wanted to know what it would be like,' Tracey replied rather unapologetically.

'Ok, well. . . now you know. Don't do that again.'

'Trust me, you weren't that good of a kisser. . . I won't,' she smirked. 'And don't go around kissing anyone like this. You might ruin Harry's reputation,'

'Ha ha. . . you're hilarious,' Daphne replied sarcastically.

'So, how was detention?'

'Miserable, and I have it every day next week.'

'You mean Harry has it every day next week,' Tracey corrected with a smile. They'd been successful, even with the hiccup.

'No, I mean I do. There's no way I'm putting Harry through that just because I'm a vindictive pissy bitch.'

'So you admit you overreacted?' Tracey asked triumphantly.

'Yes. I admit it. You were right the whole time, ok?'

'You don't know how nice it is to hear that from you. But wasn't the whole point of this operation to get Harry in detention?'

'That was before I knew the pure evil that was Professor Umbridge. Harry doesn't deserve that. No one does, but if anyone does. . . it's me, not Harry. He doesn't deserve to have someone like me in his life at all,' she replied, downtrodden.

'Daphne, stop talking like that! You're sounding crazy. What did she have you do?' Tracey asked with concern.

Daphne flashed Tracey the back of her hand where blood was still oozing from the cuts. Daphne was now wondering if it would remain when she returned to her natural form.

'She carved that into you?' Tracey asked in horror.

'No, she made me do it. . .'

Tracey's mouth gaped. 'That bitch!'

'With a blood quill.'

'No!'

'Yep.'

'Do you think she was doing that to Harry all along?' Tracey asked, putting pieces together herself.

'I do. The scar was already there, I just opened the wound. I'm gonna need more Polyjuice.'

Tracey took a moment to gather herself before responding. 'And how are you going to keep real Harry from going to his own detentions?'

'By asking help from someone closer to him and smarter than me,' Daphne replied.

'Hermione?'

'Yeah,' she said with a nod. 'I think I feel the potion starting to wear off. Good to know I have a little warning before I turn back.'

'Last chance to give your best friend the real Harry Potter experience. . .' Tracey said, feverishly batting her eyes.

Daphne glared before laughing. 'Sorry, your seductions don't work on me. And don't think about trying them on him either,' she added threateningly.

'Spoilsport,' Tracey whined.

'I'm just protecting you. You couldn't handle the real Harry Potter experience,' Daphne teased.

'Now, we'll never know,' Tracey said with a playful disappointment as Daphne was now back in her natural form. 'We need to get something on that,' she said sadly, pointing to Daphne's still slightly bleeding hand.

The wound had remained, and now she pondered on how deep of a scar she would have after a week's worth of detention.

'Stop!' Tracey exclaimed as they began to leave. She raised her wand and brought it to Daphne's tie. 'Can't have you walking into Slytherin with Gryffindor colors.'

Daphne nodded her agreement as they left the classroom.

Sunday, Daphne was able to catch Hermione alone for a moment. It wasn't a pleasant conversation, but in the end, Hermione agreed to help keep Harry occupied so Daphne could serve his detentions.

The twins took a bit more convincing but eventually, they also agreed to supply her with the necessary potion for her needs. It was to benefit Harry, after all, they rationalized.

Her last task of the day was to break up with Walt. He did push back a little, saying they got along fine and he liked spending time with her. He couldn't disagree with her contention that they didn't share many common interests or her statement that they lacked a little spark. But that didn't mean he wanted things to end either.

She didn't tell him that, at the moment, she just didn't feel like a good person, and in turn, didn't feel worthy of his companionship and attention. She didn't even feel worthy of her own friends but she couldn't figure out a way to ditch them.

Overall, and despite his logical arguments, Walt didn't seem to take it very hard, confirming her suspicion that he wasn't exactly head over heels for her.

The next week, Daphne spent a few hours every evening in the delightful company of Professor Umbridge getting the back of her hand desecrated. While she hated how much it hurt, a part of her felt like she deserved it. She never knew she had this sadistic streak, and she laughed to herself when she thought it would be Harry that would be the first one to confirm the thought.

About halfway through the week Tracey showed up with a small jar and pushed it into Daphne's hand.

'What's this?' Daphne asked.

'It's Murtlap Essence. It'll help. . . with your hand.'

'Where'd you get it?' Daphne was suspicious.

'From Madam Pomfrey,' Tracey said unconvincingly. Daphne was sure she was lying, Pomfrey didn't just hand out medicine to students — no matter how much you begged — but at this point, it didn't matter. If this gave her hand some relief, she would use it, regardless of where Tracey got it.

By the end of the week, almost all of her self-loathing has dissipated. She didn't deserve this —even if she still blamed herself for getting into the situation — nobody deserved this sort of punishment.

Trying to push everything else out of her mind, Daphne submerged herself into her studies. It was her O.W.L. year, after all. She didn't try to ignore Harry, but she didn't ever meet his eyes when they would cross paths. If he was still sending her glares, she couldn't say.

Her friends also took to studying during most of their free time. Late one evening, after they'd put an end to their studying for the day, the topic of the next Hogsmeade trip came up. Daphne had thought she didn't want the distraction, but her friends, who already had dates, convinced her she still needed to be a kid, and should put herself out there.

She did just that, standing up and determinedly walking across the room to a boy she never would've considered approaching before. She didn't really care about starting a relationship right now and didn't feel like she had anything to lose. That, and she was interested to see how her friends would react. Or perhaps, there was just a bit of her subconscious that still wanted her to humiliate herself as a form of punishment.

After completing her conversation, she sat back down with her friends, a smug smile on her face while they looked completely befuddled.

'What were you doing?' Tracey asked with a hint of accusation.

'Just getting a date to the next Hogsmeade trip.'

'How is talking to Theodore Nott going to help you get a date to Hogsmeade?' Millicent asked with obvious revulsion for the individual in question.

Daphne just raised her eyebrows at her friend.

'No! You are nott going with Nott to Hogsmead!' Millicent declared but with a hint of a question.

'I am,' she confirmed.

'Please, Daphne. Your standards are much higher than that,' Tracey asserted.

'Apparently, they're not,' Daphne replied with a sad sort of smile.

If she thought Walter White was nerdy, well, she hadn't experienced nerd yet. Theodore was the quintessential dork; glasses with tape holding the frames together (Hello. . . magic. Honestly, she thought he was doing it just for the look), dark oiled hair parted with a sharp line, and a few strands that refused to be tamed standing up in the back, ink stains at the bottom of his shirt pocket where he kept his quill while forgetting to clean it, the kid even wore suspenders. The only thing that saved him from getting bullied out of the school was Malfoy realizing Nott could get him and his goons through school for a little physical protection.

So that was Theodore's lot, doing homework for three boys so they wouldn't beat on him. They would also stop others from doing it as well, after a while at least, people still got their licks in here and there.

Daphne was pretty sure watching the paint dry in her room was more interesting than her date. It wasn't that he didn't talk about interesting topics, it was just that the way he talked about them nearly had her gouging her eyes out. His nasally voice just about had her conjuring styrofoam balls and stuffing them in her ears.

'Theodore, how would you feel if we just snogged?' she asked.

'Please, Daph, how many times have I asked you to call me Theo? That's what all my friends call me. But based on your suggestion, it appears you now consider us more than friends. So I might have to consider another, more intimate name for you to call me,' he hypothesized just as he did for any topic.

She inhaled deeply to not make a smart comment in reply, not that he would catch it, but she refrained nonetheless. 'So, is that a yes?'

'How's this for an answer?' he said as he closed his eyes and lunged at her with his mouth open like a gaping fish. She could've sworn he unhinged his jaw somehow.

She didn't even fight it, she just closed her and let his mouth engulf her lips and. . . and yes, even her nose. He latched on like a suckling infant and his arms beat arrhythmically against her back like disorganized tentacles.

When she'd snogged Harry, there were times they'd stop to catch their breath. But even on those occasions, it wasn't for any real lack of air. This was not the same. She was beginning to feel light-headed due to a genuine lack of oxygen and she pushed him away before the air could literally be siphoned out of her. She felt like. . .

'Theodore, it feels like an octopus is trying to suck my face off,' she chided while wiping the slobber off her mouth and nose and taking deep recovery breaths.

'I'm sorry, I've only read a few books on this and one of them described it as sucking face, so I thought. . .'

'No, you don't actually have to suck that much,' she corrected.

'I might've been thinking about my breathing too much also. My deviated septum makes it hard to breathe from my nose. But it does have its advantages. The doctor said that it allows all my sinus congestion to drain as a postnasal drip; which he said would save me loads of Galleons on handkerchiefs throughout my life,' Theodore rambled.

'That's. . . wonderful. . .' she said as she held back the urge to vomit. 'It's not supposed to require much thinking. Let's try again.'

This time he started normal with his mouth not wide open, that was better. But before long he was latched on to her bottom lip and pulling. . . hard.

The inside of her lip felt as if it was ripping at the seams, and the way he was biting — not nibbling — at her lip made it seem like he was attempting to give her a piercing.

Finally, she got her lip back, though not without considerable effort and additional pain.

'Ow! Did you read that in a book too?' she asked, disgruntled.

'Oh yes. It was most insightful. In fact—'

'Stop, please. This really isn't something you can learn from a book. You just need to practice,' she explained.

'Oh yes, it emphasized practical application. If you don't mind. . .' he asked permission.

'By all means,' Daphne sighed, resigned to her fate.

She closed her eyes and waited for what came next. He surprised her by kissing her just below her ear. It wasn't perfect but much better than his previous efforts. He moved down her jaw and started down her neck.

It wasn't bad, not great, but she could handle this.

Then the suction cup returned.

Oh, hell no!

She jerked her head away before he could stay latched on long enough to leave a mark.

'None of that,' she told him.

He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. 'Now that we are an item, I thought it appropriate to mark you as mine. I know there are a number of suitors that would pounce on the opportunity to court you. I need to claim my territory,' he said matter of factly.

'First of all,' she stated, slightly affronted. 'This is my territory, not yours.' She used an index finger to indicate her face first, then the rest of her body. 'And second, I don't think we are an item. I always considered this a one-time thing and I feel it best it stays that way.'

'That is a tremendous disappointment, my sweet daffodil. Might I persuade you to reconsider?'

This must be what rock bottom feels like, she mused. And she almost let out a laugh at her current circumstances and how she had brought them upon herself. She didn't even chastise him for calling her daffodil.

'I'm afraid not, Theodore. Now, shall we return to the castle? It appears we've already drawn quite the audience.'

Yes, there were more than a handful of people pretending to be conversing that had obviously enjoyed the show.

She even saw Harry and the Patils walk by. If they knew about the rumors they were doing nothing to dispel them.

'Yes, a true gentleman always escorts his lady.'

Theodore talked her ear off as they returned to the castle and she turned her head as he went in for one last kiss. Sorry, buddy.

She relocated her friends after they'd returned from their dates.

'So tell us about snogging Nott,' Tracey demanded.

Daphne rolled her eyes. 'Turns out I do have standards and they start at just above Nott.'

'Boot was entertaining. He was raving like a Malfoy in the Three Broomsticks. You definitely dinged his ego,' Millicent commented.

'Are you done punishing yourself now?' Tracey asked.

'Perhaps,' Daphne sighed.

'Ok, now tell us again. . .' Millicent prompted.

The girls giggled the rest of the day and night away relating their stories but mostly revisiting Daphne's encounter with the octopus. In the end, they decided the Giant Squid might be his best match for a practicing partner.

Though the date had been a complete disaster, there was something about it that had freed her. For the first time in months, Daphne felt like herself again.