A/N: I am so sorry about the late update . . . my (stolen) wireless had been cutting out on me, and we finally broke down and bought our own personal router. Go us.

I know I've been so neglectful of my review replies (an unusually busy September was to blame!) But thank you to all my reviewers. I really appreciate your feedback.

I own nothing. Much thanks (as always!) to my beta, stella8h8chang for all of her suggestions, opinions, and making sure this story doesn't totally suck. Rated "A" for "ADORABLE"! To my male readers, please excuse any overabundance of fluff in this chapter. There won't be much fluff in the rest of the story.


Chapter 24: Of Friends and Falling


"Good morning."

Amycus Carrow strutted in front of the students. He raised his wand, as he did every day to start off each lesson, as if to conduct some macabre orchestra. "Now . . . repeat! The purer the blood—"

"The better the wizard."

Daphne noticed that there were only a handful of students who reveled in the reply to Carrow's required response. Those students were, as expected, in her House. The rest of the class either spoke the words calmly, muttered them under their breaths, or moved only their mouths, but shot daggers at Carrow.

And then there were the couple of students that refused to do anything—

"Why, Mister Longbottom!" Carrow strolled casually up to Neville's desk, twirling his wand in his fingers like it was a mere stick of wood. "Again, you disrespect me by refusing to follow my rules."

Neville kept his face cold, emotionless.

Amycus raised his palm. Daphne braced herself; she knew exactly what was coming next—

Except, that this time, Carrow turned sharply to Neville's left, and hit Lavender Brown hard — right on her cheek.

She yelped and fell over into Parvati, who caught her and held onto her. Neville stared, horrified, trying to make his way over to Lavender to help her and, Daphne was certain, to apologize.

Seamus bolted out of his seat, wand already in hand.

"Expelliarm—"

"Osteo Contricio!"

"No!" Lavender screamed.

There was a sickening sound of things crumpling and crunching, and Daphne could actually see bumps and protrusions moving under the skin of Seamus' hand. He howled in pain and his wand clattered to the floor. Seamus fell to his knees, panting hard, clutching his now broken hand. Lavender scrambled out of her seat and ran to check on him. Her own face was still red from Carrow slapping her not seconds before. The Gryffindor girl looked back at Carrow, her face fierce with fury. Behind her, Daphne saw Crabbe and Goyle smiling, their hands clapping with a morbid glee at watching pain consume Seamus.

Carrow merely smiled at Lavender but turned back to Neville, who stared at the Death Eater with a disbelieving, disgusted expression.

"Look at what your impudence has caused, Mister Longbottom." Carrow positioned himself so that he was now mere inches from Neville. His face was a study in mock pity.

"So thick-headed. So dumb." Carrow cocked his head to the right. "You only hurt your friends when you disobey your teachers."

Neville narrowed his eyes and looked at him. "You're no teacher! You're a murderer!"

Daphne scrambled up out of her seat. "M-Mister . . . Professor," Daphne gestured to Seamus, "Finnigan's not going to be any use in this class." She shrugged, hoping to keep her demeanor steady and calm. "Wh-why don't I escort him to the hospital wing?"

Carrow turned his attention to Daphne now and, with a sickening feeling growing in her guts, he smiled at her in that horrible, awful, creepy way he had about him.

It was an expression that chilled Daphne to her bones.

"MissGreengrass," Carrow said slowly. He moved to stand closer to her, turning away from Neville completely. "This is the second time that you have come to the rescue of two Gryffindors, one of whom—" he gestured to Neville, "is a fat, clumsy, Potter-worshiping fool, and the other—" he nudged his head toward Seamus, "is nothing more than a mere mixed breed mongrel." Daphne backed away, swallowing her nerves, as Carrow pushed into her personal space; she could smell his foul, rotting breath. "I even saw you weep over Longbottom's body. Why?"

Daphne mustered the most arrogant, superior expression that she could, and said, slow and steady, "Professor, I'm Head Girl. It's my duty to follow the Headmaster's orders. He insisted that students' safety be the paramount concern during his tenure. I'm only looking out for . . . that. Sir." She finished a bit lamely.

Her breath hitched as Carrow drew her chin up in the air toward his face.

"You make one very interesting Slytherin, Miss Greengrass," he slurred out, twisting her head to and fro. "Very interesting, indeed."

Daphne could feel her lip tremble. Just as quickly as he started touching her face, he pulled away from her. Carrow spun around and waved his hand dismissively as he marched to the front of the classroom. "Take him, Miss Greengrass." He snapped his fingers. "Mister Malfoy, go and help her, since you are Head Boy."

Daphne glanced over at Draco Malfoy, who rolled his eyes in exasperation, and pushed himself out of his seat. She went over to Seamus, who was still kneeling on the floor, sweating and turning pale.

"Sea- . . . er, Finnigan," Daphne stammered. "I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing now." She shot a quick look at Carrow, who was still staring at her. "Maybe Pomfrey will be willing to help fix your dirty-blooded hand."

It was, by any account, a pitiable insult. But it was the only thing that popped into Daphne's head that might take away any suspicion that she had any sympathies toward Gryffindors.

She thought it wasn't all that convincing.

Daphne bent down, as if to take Seamus' other hand, and he pulled away from her, exaggeratedly.

"Yer not touchin' anything on me! I'll get myself up, you slimy, good-fer-nothin' snake!"

Daphne's eyes grew big at Seamus' shouting . . . until she saw a small grin poke at the side of his mouth furthest away from Carrow. Seamus winced.

"You going to be all right, Shay?" Lavender asked, her hand touching his face.

Seamus nodded quickly, wincing again as he accidentally kept putting pressure on his broken hand, still sweating from what must be constant, rolling pain. "Fine, Lav. Come up after class, okay?"

Lavender nodded, gave Daphne a look that she interpreted as a "thank you". Without another word, she went back to her seat.

Daphne and Seamus exited the classroom, Daphne's hand appearing to have a tight hold on his left arm, grasping it so it looked like she was pushing him hard to walk.

Just behind them, Draco Malfoy walked, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers, and not saying a word.

"Seamus, is it really bad?" Daphne leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"Naw . . . it feels like butterflies touching m' fingers. Of course it's bad!" he hissed. And he cringed and sucked in a breath. "Blimey . . . it . . . stings!"

Daphne let go of his arm. "Sorry about in there. With Carrow and pretending like Pomfrey wouldn't want to see you."

He gave her a look of disbelief, albeit pained, and shook his head. "Daphne, I-I know exactly why ya did it. And . . ." he groaned and held in a breath again, "I-I don't hold it . . . against . . . ya." Seamus grimaced. "Just . . . wanna . . . have Pomfrey . . ." he pulled his lips in, and Daphne saw him swallow shakily, "lookit this fer me."

Daphne nodded. They had to be hasty. Seamus was growing more and more pale, and Daphne could see the sweat had bypassed the beady stage and had gone straight for an all-out deluge. And he was shaking, as if trying to hold in exactly how much he had been hurt.

She felt someone push past her roughly. She glared at the Head Boy, who was walking just a bit quicker, but not putting a whole lot of distance between them.

"Malfoy, you're not actually going up to the Hospital Wing with us?"

He shot her a derisive stare. "Don't flatter yourself, Greengrass. I've got no intentions to assist you in your pathetic caretaker efforts to some half-Muggle, half-wizard abomination." He snorted and nodded towards Seamus, who would've been more inclined to toss an insult to Malfoy had he been trying not to vomit.

Daphne just shook her head. "And to think . . . I was actually feeling sorry for you a couple of weeks ago."

Draco Malfoy gritted his teeth and thrust his face into hers.

(After today, I'll have had quite enough of people shoving their faces into my personal space!)

"I – don't – need – your – pity!" Malfoy hissed. And he spun quickly on his heels and stormed off the opposite direction, turning a corner that indicated to Daphne he might be heading back downstairs to the dungeons.

(For the love of Salazar! Remember next time you talk to that wanker, he's still a bloody wanker!)

Seamus stopped, bent over, and promptly retched all over the floor and his shoes.

"Oh shit!" Daphne exclaimed as the boy wiped his mouth. "We've got to get you to Pomfrey now!"

With a quick "Evanesco," Daphne cleaned up the mess and whisked him away as fast as possible to the Hospital Wing.


After the attack on Seamus, Neville called an emergency meeting of Dumbledore's Army in order to discuss how they were going to proceed from this point forward. Ginny thought she was the first to arrive at the Room of Requirement; instead, she found Daphne sitting all by herself, waiting for others to show up.

Daphne turned to look over her shoulder. She had just caught Ginny trying to sneak up from behind and scare her with a greeting.

"Oops! Damn . . . I need to be more stealthy."

Daphne glared at her, which promptly melted into a smirk. "You're a Weasley, lest you forget. You were born loud."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but noticed the piece of parchment Daphne was holding in her hands. There were a couple of lines written on it, but it didn't make sense to her at all. "What've you got there?"

"Oh, er . . ." She let out a sigh. "All right, I'll tell you, and you'll think me completely barmy for being so preoccupied with this, but a couple of weeks ago, during one of those meetings Dr- . . . er, Malfoy and I have in Snape's office, I found a scrap of paper that . . ." Daphne grunted, as if she wasn't quite sure what she thought she saw, "well, it sort of fell off of . . . er, him."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Ew!"

"Not like that! It fell off his desk, or his robes caught it, or it fell off of his lap or out of his sleeve . . . whatever. I read it at least five times, and as soon as I could get to my things, I wrote the words down, because, well . . . just look at it, all right?"

Daphne handed the parchment to Ginny. Her eyes ran over the few words written on it, clearly confused.

"'Could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind's going, personally! Love, Lily.'" She raised an eyebrow, and looked back up at Daphne. "Oh, well, that's really straightforward."

Daphne scratched her head. "It's just odd, y'know. Why would Snape have something that looks like only part of a letter in his possession, and from someone named Lily?" She dropped her hand and let it fall on the table with a thud. "Did he even know someone named Lily?"

Ginny creased her brow thinking about all the witches named "Lily" that she had ever heard of or had known.

"The only Lily I know of that might be around Snape's age, is Harry's mum."

That piqued Daphne's interest. "D'ya think they knew each other?"

Ginny shrugged. "Dunno. Wait a minute. Are you sure you wrote this out right? You got every word correct?"

Daphne gave her an indignant look. "Ginny, I bloody know how to read! And I read that thing multiple times. Committed it to memory!"

She held out her hand to placate the Slytherin. "All right. But have you considered the tone of this letter?"

Daphne stared at her, befuddled.

"Well, look at what it's saying." Ginny held it out in front of them. "When this 'Lily' person wrote how someone could ever have been friends with Grindelwald, well," She scratched at her chin, "Grindelwald's the most famous dark wizard of this century, next to—"

"Lord 'Scrotum-Sack'?"

"Yeah," Ginny replied, nodding slowly. "And then the next sentence says, 'I think her mind's going, personally!' and that's emphasized because she's got an exclamation point right there."

Daphne's eyes widened, and Ginny couldn't help but smile; it was like she had just had an epiphany. So, she continued.

"And the whole thing preceding the mention of Grindelwald sort of suggests that 'Lily' didn't understand why this person was friends with him in the first place." Ginny laid the parchment down on the table, and smacked her palm on it

Daphne inhaled deeply as she continued to look at the letter. "This Lily also refers to that person as a 'her' — 'her mind is going'." She rubbed on her bottom lip, briefly looking over her shoulder as both girls heard the door to the Room open and close and Neville, Parvati, Lavender, and a still-bandaged Seamus all walked into the room. She shook her head slowly; to Ginny, it looked as if she was trying to let everything soak in. "No way did any Dark Wizard write this. I mean, for one, no Death Eater or Dark Lord that I know of would ever sign their letters 'Love'. And, just like you said, there's the tone of the letter itself. Lily thought this person had lost their mind for being friends with Grindelwald. Who," Daphne exhaled through her nose quite loudly, "I've read something about Grindelwald somewhere recently—"

Daphne looked back at the note, stopping herself in mid-thought. "Well, whatever. We just need to find out who this 'Lily' is, that's all. Not to mention how Snape knew her and why he'd have this small scrap of a letter on him."

Ginny looked at her doubtfully, turning around as more members of the D.A. filed into the room. "I'd leave Snape alone, at least about this. It's bad news — not to mention, potentially life-threatening — to investigate anything personal about him."

Daphne gave Ginny a very dark look; she didn't even notice Michael Corner waving at her. "Dumbledore once told me that I reminded him of Snape. Granted, that was before Snape killed him. But I want to know. He told me that Snape had something that belied his charms." The Slytherin sat back in her chair. "I can't help but think Dumbledore knew exactly what he was talking about. That he knew Snape and he understood and trusted Snape." Daphne bit her lip. "And if Dumbledore was right about him, then Snape killing him doesn't make any sense. And it has to Ginny. I've got to make it make sense for me."

Ginny found herself at a loss for words. She had no idea how to respond to Daphne's confession, so all she could do was set her lips together gently, and nod.

"You two not gabbing about me, are ya?"

Daphne jumped up in the air as Michael had come up behind her, putting both hands on her shoulders, grinning at the two girls.

"Crap, Michael! I almost wet myself!" Daphne panted and put a hand up to her chest. She looked back up at Michael and smiled at him and he smiled back.

Ginny breathed out in relief that the tension that had set in before dissipated. "Is everyone here?" she asked, looking around the room, taking an informal head count.

"Actually, we seem to be missing — ah! There he is now!"

"At some point," Blaise Zabini said, jogging over to them and huffing out in an annoyed tone, "we are going to have to stop meeting like this. I've got N.E.W.T.s to prepare for!"

Daphne looked at him with an exasperated expression. "We all do, Blaise. But, I think Neville's got some pressing matters that he wants to air out." Daphne rose out of her seat, and hip-bumped Michael affectionately.

Ginny chuckled as she watched the Ravenclaw boy blush and grin. And she turned her attention towards Neville, who was standing in his normal spot at the front of the room.

"Everybody? Can we all just take a seat, either at the table, or, just kip a spot on the floor?"

The members of the D.A. got settled in, and Neville clapped his hands together, taking a deep breath.

"We need to discuss how we're going to handle the Carrows and people who might be on their side and working for them." Neville looked at the other Gryffindors, who all nodded. Several of the others did as well. Daphne and Blaise both shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Neville continued. "A lot of us have already been injured by them, and October's just around the corner. We've got three more months until the Christmas holiday, and we've got to find a way, not just to survive, but to show them that they aren't getting to us. That no matter what they do to us, they can't stop us from believing in Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

Ginny felt her heat speed up as he mentioned their names; her eyes shifted to the ground.

"Ginny?" Neville asked. "Did you want to say something?"

Composing herself, she looked up, nodded, and stepped forward. "I'm only speaking for myself here, but, at this point, the Carrows know who's against them. Clearly, the injuries have been focused on the Gryffindor upper years, for the most part. They've been gunning for us since the term started."

"Throw in Jack Sloper, and you've got it right," Neville concurred.

Ginny gave him a resigned grin. "So, it doesn't matter what we do, right?" She turned back to the others. "They'll find something to get on us and they'll just keep cursing and hexing us."

"But we can't let them win, and that's what'll happen if we stop speaking up." Neville folded his arms and scratched at his chin. "We've got to keep undermining them. And it has to be more often than a newsletter that we can show students every week or so. No offense Daphne."

Daphne shook her head. "No, I understand." She closed her eyes, took a very deep breath, and opened them back up. "C-can I say something? Up there?"

Neville nodded at her and gestured for her to approach. She stood up and brushed her jeans off. Taking a couple of deep breaths with each step, she turned around, blinking at the others before she started speaking.

"I think that, if we do this, we're opening ourselves up to a world of torture and abuse." Ginny noticed Daphne kept biting her lip and her cheeks as she struggled through what she wanted to say, what she needed for others to understand. "I know what you all are thinking too. 'Who the hell does this girl think she is?'" Daphne lowered her voice. "'She's Head Girl! She's in Slytherin! She's never had to put herself on the line. The Carrows haven't attacked her yet!' " Daphne stopped talking and looked at the others, continuing to worry at her lower lip with her teeth.

"Amycus Carrow forced me to stand in front of our class and make me torture Neville. He made me watch . . . he made all of us watch as he did it." She looked at Neville with eyes that expressed a deep and infinite sadness.

"I'll admit that I respected you before that, Neville Longbottom. But you became a bloody hero that day in Carrow's class."

Neville shook his head. "I'm not a hero—"

Daphne held up a hand to stop him and she turned back to the group. "It gutted — absolutely gutted — me to have been there, watching Carrow torture Neville, watching him break Seamus' hand, watching him slap Parvati and Lavender. It was like I saw Cedric Diggory's body again in fourth year." She lowered her head, and Ginny heard her voice break. "W-when I saw Harry return from wherever he had been, and he was holding Cedric . . . lifeless . . ."

Ginny walked over and put a hand on Daphne's shoulder, smiling at her reassuringly.

Daphne paused and sucked in a shaky breath. "That was the first time I had ever seen a dead body. And he was only a couple of years older than me, than all of us. I just . . . I worry too much about what's going to happen. And I," Daphne lifted her head. "I don't want to see any of us get hurt. I don't know if antagonizing them is going to make any difference."

The room remained silent.

"I," Daphne said softly, "kinda like you guys too." She kicked at the floor with her scruffy shoes.

Ginny regarded Daphne Greengrass — a girl she had gotten to know very well over the summer holiday, a Slytherin quite different from the others in her house. And she smiled. She thought that before this year, before last year, before her fourth year, if anyone had told her that she would've heard that speech coming out of that girl's mouth, Ginny would've thought the world had gone all topsy-turvy. Daphne's speech was surprisingly touching, and seemed to resonate with the rest of the D.A.

Ginny looked over at Michael, curious to see his reaction. He was staring at Daphne with an indefinable expression on his face, part proud, part admiring, part . . . something. His eyes were shiny in the flickering candlelight.

She could also see, very clearly, a smile breaking out on Michael's face. And he looked like he was a little awed about what she had just said.

However, it was Neville Longbottom who broke the silence.

"That's why, when we do this, we've got to be careful. We've got to be quiet as we work. And we've got to have your full support. You too, Blaise." He addressed the other Slytherin. "We need both you and Daphne to get information for us, to let us know what they're going to be doing. So we can be ready for it."

Blaise blinked a couple of times. "That means we have to act as double agents, then? Daphne and I? Stay on Slytherin's good side, and don't draw too much attention to us?"

Neville nodded. "That's the general idea."

"So, what does that mean?" Daphne asked, and Ginny could hear notes of desperation creeping into her voice. "Do I not stick up for you and make sure you get medical attention if you're hurt? Does that mean I not take my lumps too? That I stay safe and sound while he turns all of you into targets?" Daphne looked at Neville, and then around the Room. "And are you not going to resent either me or Blaise if we keep up the appearance that our noses are 'clean'? Because I remember how you all greeted me in fifth year, and I remember how you greeted Blaise a few weeks ago. And I think a couple of you still don't fully trust me."

Ginny saw Anthony Goldstein look away from Daphne, and he fiddled with his fingers as they remained wrapped around his knees.

"We should vote!"

Everyone turned towards Luna Lovegood.

"One person thinks we shouldn't increase our efforts against the Carrows because of the risk of injury to ourselves. The other person thinks that we need to do more to undermine them." She regarded each person with that same "Luna Lovegood" smile that she always seemed to wear and she shrugged languidly. "Father always has his staff vote whenever there's two possible front page articles. That happened back in my fourth year, when Harry gave us his exclusive interview, and Father wanted to publish those first-hand eyewitness accounts of the existence of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. They voted for Harry's article, of course, and that still remains The Quibbler's top issue!"

A smattering of suppressed laughter tinkled across the room, and Ginny had to admit that Luna had, once again, added her own desperately-needed "Luna-ness" to the meeting.

"I agree," Ginny said. "And the outcome of the vote must be binding on all – ofus. Every person must follow it." Her eyes crossed over the room. Encouragingly, everyone nodded.

"Okay, so Luna. Start us off."

Luna smiled dreamily at Ginny. "Everyone who thinks that we need to back off and continue with our current plans, please raise your hand now!" Luna kept her hand down, but Ginny watched as she scanned the room. Daphne, Blaise, Padma, Anthony, Susan, and Hannah all raised their hands.

"That makes six. Thank you. You can put your hands down." Luna continued to smile pleasantly as she watched them lower their hands. "Now, who wants to increase our efforts against the Carrows, and really try to get under their skin?"

This time Ginny, Neville, Parvati, Seamus, Lavender, Terry, Ernie and Michael all voted.

Luna's head moved to each hand now extended into the air. "Very good. You may put your hands down."

The students complied.

"Well, the official count is eight-six in favor of increasing our efforts."

"Wait Luna," Padma said, pointing at the younger Ravenclaw. "You didn't vote."

"Oh, that's because I can see the validity of both sides. I don't like what the Carrows are doing, but I don't want to see us get hurt any further. Besides," Luna shrugged, "I didn't want to influence the outcome. I was the one keeping tally!"

"That's it then." Daphne spoke with a decisiveness that had been missing from her since the meeting started. She looked at Michael with so much disappointment, Ginny could feel her own heart breaking for her friend.


"You didn't have to stay."

Daphne stuffed her book bag to its exploding point. The meeting had disbanded. Now, it was just Michael and her in the room, and she wasn't quite sure about her feelings towards him at that point.

She had said her peace at the meeting, she had laid it all out on the line, and Michael had voted against her anyway.

Even stranger was that Anthony Goldstein, the one friend of Michael's that royally disliked and distrusted her, voted for her position.

It was bizarre. Completely, totally bizarre. And Daphne had a throbbing headache, one that felt like a little creature had wormed its way into her head and was pounding on the other side to be let out—

"D-Daphne . . ." Michael said, awkwardly coughing to clear his throat.

She picked up the parchment scrap she had shown Ginny earlier, with the words transcribed from that small bit of a letter Snape had from someone named Lily—

"Daphne?"

She gave a small start, crumpling the paper up as she threw it into her bag. She spun around to face Michael who was standing behind her, wiping his hands on his trousers and shirt.

"Michael," she said again, suppressing a sigh, "seriously, I can walk back to the dungeons just fine."

"Th-that's . . . that's not what, er . . . why . . ." his voice faded.

"Look," Daphne shouldered her book bag, and regarded him with resigned eyes, "I know you don't agree with what I said. You voted to increase the efforts against those bastards, and you think I'm weak, and that I don't want to put myself on the line or anything—"

"No. No I don't Daphne."

"But," she continued, not really hearing him. "I don't know if I can be a spy and just watch everyone fight and rebel, when I'm not doing anything like all of you are." Daphne looked at him, pleading with Michael to understand exactly where she was coming from. "It's like everyone else is going to put themselves right in harm's way! I'm not giving up anything. Blaise and I are just going to act all Slytherin, which I don't bloody know what that even means this year! And all of you are going to resent me—"

"I love you."

"And all of this work, everything I've done to get your trust . . ." Daphne stopped. "Wait." She heard her own voice, barely a whisper. "What?"

She watched him, standing probably three meters away from her. He was shaking a small bit, and he kept biting his lips as he blinked and took a breath—

"I love you, Daphne." He let out a slow, steady breath.

She stared at him. "Wh-what do you mean?" She cocked her head, and looked at him, mired in her own thoughtful confusion. "Wh-when you say that—"

Michael nodded, and he started to smile. "When I say that I love you, it kind of means that Ilove – you."

Daphne was now blinking so rapidly, she was making herself dizzy. "B-but y-y-you voted against me. Y-you didn't agree with me."

"And that doesn't mean that I didn't hear what you said tonight." Michael stepped forward, steadily but slowly. "What I heard was you telling us you didn't want to see anyone harmed. You were scared for us because you, what was that word you used again? Like, I think it was. You like us."

Daphne was torn between wanting to smack him for teasing her at a moment like this, and wanting to embrace him.

"You talked about watching people get hurt, like Cedric Diggory in our fourth year. It hurt you to watch them hurt your friends." Michael stopped walking, standing mere inches away from her. "I heard you. And, I'll admit, I was really either too stupid or too scared to understand how I felt about you, but it hit me tonight."

"Hit you?" Her voice sounded so far away. His voice, though, kept resonating in her head.

("I love you.")

("I love you, Daphne.")

(". . . it means I love you.")

"Like a Bludgeoning Hex. Like a troll club. Like a Bludger smacking Quincy Bole right in the head." Michael winked. "And," he shrugged, "I can't walk away from you tonight without being honest with you about it." Daphne felt herself swoon.

She couldn't believe this. She didn't want to believe this. Blokes like Michael didn't tell girls like her that they loved them — and is that different from being in love with them? No . . . they said those words to pretty, popular girls like Ginny or Cho. She was Daphne Greengrass, one of the most unpopular Slytherins probably to have ever attended Hogwarts.

Well, that wasn't necessarily true. If she was "popular", it was only because of her reputation . . . wait, was that why Michael liked — no, loved her? Because if he said those words, she'd give him what he wanted?

(But you two haven't really gone that far yet!)

Daphne thought about the two of them throughout the past year. Questions flew around in her head: who had held her when she had cried because of her past relationships and bad deeds . . . who had tried to talk to her when she had had her breakdown . . . who had written her letters over this violent summer, making sure she was okay?

(It was Michael.

(It was always him.)

There was simply no way this could be true. This only happened to good girls, and her history showed that she was not one of those.

But here they were. Trembling and shaking, Daphne looked at him. He stood so close to her, she could feel his breath on her cheek.

It was a wonder how someone could be both consumed by terror and happiness at the same time.

"You love me?" she squeaked.

Michael nodded. "But," he held his hand out, touching her mouth softly with the pad of his thumb. "I understand if you're not ready to say it back to me. I just thought . . . well, I thought that you should hear those words probably a bit more often than not."

Daphne shook her head quickly and tried to stop her lip from quivering and her chin from giving way.

But it was of no use.

Without another word, Michael wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on both of her cheeks, her nose, and finally her lips. And Daphne sunk into him, wondering if he minded tasting her tears as he continued to kiss her and kiss her and kiss her . . .