Disclaimer: Eh.
"Daphne?" Blaise called tentatively from the bottom of girl's staircase. He didn't want to chance going up the stairs, as he was sure that they would collapse into a slide, and he didn't want to be a part of that embarrassment. After all, the rest of the house had just moved on from Draco's remarks, and were now shunning Draco himself as his father had been put in prison for being a Death Eater. And although many of the house were somehow affiliated with a Death Eater, it was still taboo to be a affiliated with an outed Death Eater.
He waited for a moment. A rustling could be heard from her bedroom, as the door was halfway opened. A "shh" sound followed, with a titter of giggles.
Blaise tapped his finger on the banister impatiently. "Daphne," he repeated louder, sure that she had indeed heard him but was just choosing to ignore him.
"Just a minute, Blaise-y!" Daphne replied in a sing-song voice. A thump could be heard as something fell to the floor in her room.
"Daaaaaphne," he whined. She merely laughed in reply, in an out-of-breath sort of way.
When Millicent Bulstrode passed by, Blaise stopped her. "Millicent," he asked, "can you please levitate me up to Daphne? She's being difficult."
Millicent shrugged in response and cast a quick "wingardium leviosa". When his feet touched the stair landing, he turned back to give her a smile, but found that she was already gone. He shrugged. "So odd," he commented.
He rapped his knuckles on the door, to make sure that Daphne knew that he was about to come in.
"W-wait a minute!" he heard Daphne tell him, followed by scurrying and another round of giggling. He shook his head and did as she told him.
When Daphne, came to the door, he could see traces of wiped away lipstick across her face and mussed hair that was usually well coiffed. "Hello, Hannah," he called to the person he was sure was behind Daphne.
Daphne scowled. "Can't pass any wool over your eyes, can I?" she grumbled. "And that's not Hannah. It's Padma Patil."
Blaise's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "What happened to Hannah?" he exclaimed.
"She's being difficult," Daphne said, borrowing the sentiment Blaise had used about her earlier, which caused Blaise's ears to burn slightly as to how she had heard him. Blaise shook his head and waited for a real answer.
"She's not sure if she's gay or not," Daphne told him. "Again."
"That's not such an awful thing," Blaise reasoned. "At least she's being honest with you and not bullocks-ing around with some guy behind your back."
"She told me that she wasn't sure if she was gay or not after I found her in a serious liplock with Bernie Whats-his-Face."
"Ernie MacMillan?" Blaise inquired.
"His name doesn't matter," Daphne scoffed. A slim, brown hand slipped onto Daphne's shoulder.
"Excuse me, love," Padma interrupted apologetically, "I have a curfew to be on time for, and I'm sure my house wouldn't be pleased, or understanding for that matter, to know that the reason why I've lost us points is because I've been having a mad, lesbian affair with a Slytherin."
Daphne let her through with a roll of her eyes. Padma walked down a few steps before turning around and winking. "Catch you later, darling," she told her. Daphne watched her walk out of the room before continuing the conversation with Blaise.
"So you're getting back at her by going out with Padma here?" Blaise asked.
Daphne scoffed. "Padma and I are just friends with benefits. I personally wouldn't be able to stand her should I be in a relationship with her, believe me, I've tried, and she's perfectly happy going out nonexclusively even into your second month of dating." Daphne shrugged. "I'm an all-or-nothing-relationship kind of girl, I suppose."
"I feel awful, Daph," Blaise apologized, "Here I am, just worrying about my own problems, and you have all this stuff going on."
Daphne shrugged. "Don't. If I had wanted to draw attention to myself, I would have. Hannah will eventually come back to me, sobbing about what she did, and then I'll need your help to figure out what to do," she explained, "But until then, just keep me distracted with your problems. You're fine."
Blaise flashed her a smile. "Well, in that case," he replied with a grin, "I need your help with my problem then. Now that Harry's broken up with ol' Nev, what do I do?"
Daphne smirked.
"What Neville did was awful," Hermione told Harry, rubbing his back sympathetically. "Awful, awful, awful."
Harry nodded, face pressed down into his pillow.
"But…" she continued.
He turned his head over so he could speak. "But what, 'Mione?" he inquired.
"But honestly, when you had believed that Neville had written those notes, something which you both never brought up, your relationship had no problems," Hermione finished.
Harry deadpanned. "I don't want to hear this," he replied coolly.
"All I'm saying is that-" Hermione continued.
"I don't want to hear this, Hermione," Harry repeated angrily.
"Neville is really sorry for lying to you, and if you would listen to him you could see-"
"Shut up, Hermione!" Harry roared, shrugging her hand off of his back as he raised himself into a sitting position.
Hermione, shocked, dropped her hand to her lap.
Harry gathered himself. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," Harry apologized, "but I told you that I didn't want to hear it and being typical you, you just had to go on."
He stood up. "Come with me," Harry ordered. Hermione was too shocked to do anything but.
When the two reached the common room, they found Neville, Ron, and Ginny gathered around the fireplace. "Listen to me, all of you," Harry told them.
They all looked up at him in askance. He directed his attention to Neville. "I never would have agreed to go out with you if I had known that you hadn't written those poems," he told him bluntly, "When you recited that poem it happened to be a poem that had been used, and I had just assumed. And okay, our short relationship did seem to be a hit, but you very obviously weren't acting like yourself around me, you were pretending to be someone else. It was obvious. Don't even bother to try to refute that. And then for you to just continue on after knowing about the notes like you had written them, it's just unbelievable!"
Neville opened his mouth to answer, or plead, or something like that.
"No," Harry cut him off before he could get anywhere, "I'm not done. You're a great guy, Nev. But you're just not for me. Whoever wrote those notes is. And I intend on finding out who it actually is."
He turned to the other three. "So you three can stop hounding me to make things up with him," he rampaged, "because that is not going to happen! Maybe you can go out with him, Ginny," he turned his attention towards her, "but I am bloody well not!"
In his element, Harry turned and walked right out of the common room, leaving four Gryffindors thoroughly dumbfounded behind him.
Your eyes are searching through the masses,
Still you miss me and my poetic stashes.
Days are passing and there's not much left,
You're moving fast your movements precise and deft.
The person you seek is me indeed it is,
But still you miss and go about the biz.
You're becoming desperate and oh so frustrated,
But how will you find me when I'm so hated.
I'd give you a hint but where's the game,
Even though I know you'd never feel the same.
Emerald green sparkles dimming with time,
I watch and watch but cannot mime.
Come my dear look my way,
I'm sure you'll figure out what I say.
Faster and faster the clock spins round,
I move to and fro but make no sound.
Darkness abound is my comforting sheet,
I watch from across as you take your seat.
Nor west nor east do I face you,
For I am emerald green in colour too.
Look once look twice look thrice you'll find,
That I'll be there going out of my mind.
Hopefully this helps you on your search,
I'll be waiting on my lowly perch.
Harry picked up the note that he found awaiting him when he reached the boy's restroom outside of the library. An eyebrow quirked when he first saw it, though he knew that it must be fate for someone to read him so well without him even noticing.
"Emerald," he supposed out loud.
"Coincidentally a synonym with Slytherin," he finished his thought.
"So he's a Slytherin…"
He reread it and exclaimed excitedly, "And he very obviously is in one of my classes…Potions!"
Eyes ablaze and heart triumphant, he carefully tucked the note into his pocket and headed to the library to finalize his plan.
The poem is entitled Searching Sight and was written by lovely and melodious The Love Dragon. Thank you so much, darling, for writing this! It's simply fantabulous. So everybody go on and shower her with praise!! =D