A/N: Parts of this chapter are unbeta'd. Thanks to stella8h8chang for looking over the initial version before I decided to rewrite most of the thing. This chapter makes reference to a conversation between Snape and Dumbledore from Chapter 24 of Daphne Greengrass and the 6th Year From Hell. I am embarrassed to admit the wizarding song is entirely my conception; hopefully it does read like actual wizard pop lyrics.

Rated M for mature themes and language. Thanks to all who have been following this story and giving me feedback, and for things that might need clarification or further work. I really appreciate your input.


Chapter 32: Magic's in the Air

Following Daphne's punishment, Flitwick was summoned immediately to Ravenclaw to help bring Luna up to the Hospital Wing. After running numerous tests and internal scans, Pomfrey and Eddie Carmichael were sufficiently satisfied that she had suffered no internal injuries and they allowed her to return back to Ravenclaw. Before Luna left, they made sure Flitwick and her D.A. Housemates escorted her. However, it was soon discovered that Luna had fared better than several other students, as the Hospital Wing began filling up with Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and a couple of Ravenclaws who had been caught outside of their respective Houses by the Carrows and those loyal to them. They had been unaware of the raids, as no announcement had been made for them to return to their common rooms.

And it had left them in the Death Eaters' paths.

Hufflepuff and Gryffindor suffered the worst injuries. Between them, fifteen students had been sent to the Hospital Wing with burns, cuts, scars, and aftereffects of extended use of the Cruciatus Curse.

Unfortunately, many of the injuries extended far beyond the physical.

"They Imperiused them." Eddie Carmichael told Ginny and Neville a few days later. He was deeply troubled. "They Imperiused them and forced them to Cruciate their Housemates. Over and over again. They had internal bleeding, broken bones and . . . and I know I'm supposed to be professional about this, but—"

Ginny and Neville remained silent, allowing Eddie a moment to compose himself.

The D.A.'s meeting following the raid was highly charged. Luna was greeted with several triumphant roars. The others ran over to her to hug her and to tell her how proud they were of how she handled Snape.

"Goodness!" she chirped. "One would think that the Humdingers were mating, as excited as everyone is!"

Right before the meeting began, Luna pulled Neville and Ginny away from the others.

"Oh, I'm all right," the Ravenclaw said in an airy voice. "I've been to see Madam Pomfrey every day this past week, but she hasn't found anything wrong. Since it's already been several days, they think I should be in the clear of any after-effects of the Cruciatus."

"That's a relief," Neville proclaimed, grinning broadly.

"You're too sweet. Oh, before I forget, here you go!" She handed them three rolls of parchments. "These should've been done ages ago, but we got a bit sidetracked."

"Luna, are these—?"

"The parchments with the names of all the D.A. members who have already graduated or are no longer here." Her smile broadened as she passed over the parchments that Blaise and Daphne had managed to steal. "They have some Memory Modification Charms on them, so once they're opened, they'll charm Pansy, Vincent, and Gregory to remember that these were the only students ever involved with the D.A."

Neville and Ginny looked at each other. "And take the suspicion off of us, should we start tearing up the school, eh?" Neville raised his eyebrow in a slightly mischievous expression.

The girls nodded. "At least for a little while," Ginny added.

Neville patted the rolls. "Those baboons won't have any clue who's going around the school, putting up all the anti-Ministry, pro-Harry Potter stuff."

"So, the threat of torture and the Cruciatus?"

"Is awful and frightening and all that, Ginny, but it's not going to change what I'm doing." The look of determination on Neville's face meant that there was no point arguing with him about the matter.

"Well, even if they think the entire D.A. have all graduated, they'll still blame us." Ginny grinned wryly. "At least us three. We were in the papers with Harry after the fight at the Ministry. They'll probably go after the other Gryffindors too."

"Let them blame me." A confident smile grew on Neville's face. "After what happened during the raid, I'm not going to let them intimidate me. And I think you two feel the same way. I'm sure Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender do too."

Ginny nodded in agreement. Luna merely smiled a little wider.

"That's settled. We should get this meeting started . . ." Neville's voice trailed off. "Wait a minute. Aren't we missing—?"

"Blaise! Where is she?"

They turned their heads towards the commotion. Blaise Zabini was walking rapidly over to a wall to toss his book bag to the ground. Behind him, an agitated Michael Corner demanded to know where Daphne was.

"Is Daphne not here?" Luna asked the others.

Ginny looked around. "I don't see her—"

"Have you spoken to her since the raid?" Neville asked. Ginny shook her head, realizing that she hadn't had any contact with Daphne for the entire week. No one from the D.A. had, save for Blaise of course. Anytime anyone approached her, there had been something in Daphne's demeanor, something cold and aloof in the way she carried herself. It seemed to create some invisible wall between her and the rest of the school. It didn't improve even when it was clear Luna would be all right.

"Shit," Ginny muttered under her breath, inwardly kicking herself that she hadn't done more to try to talk to her. She couldn't help but wonder whether she wasn't a little disgusted about what Daphne had done to Luna — and whether Daphne could've done more to stop Snape.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling guilt bubble in her stomach. "I really hadn't put much effort into trying to talk to her, to be honest." She looked back up at Neville and Luna. "Which probably makes me a really big bitch or something, but," she gestured at the blonde Ravenclaw, "she tortured you, Luna."

Luna, however, shook her head. "If anyone is to be mad at Daphne for cursing me, I think it should be me." She smiled. "And I'm not."

"You're not angry?" There was a tone of incredulity in Neville's voice.

"No. Well, mostly because I was there. I saw what Snape did to her. He did hurt her when she didn't curse me as hard as he wanted."

Neville mulled over something for a few moments. Finally, he relaxed. "Okay. I trust your judgment, Luna."

Loud voices rose behind them. The trio looked over and saw Michael and Blaise's argument heating up.

Luna eyes widened as she watched the wizards argue. "Maybe I should talk to her about what happened. It isn't healthy to keep such negative emotions inside for a long time. Perhaps if we're able to get everything out in the open, we can try to move past the raid."

Ginny was about to answer, when—

"Screw you, Blaise! I want to see her! She's bloody avoiding me. Just like last year!"

"And if she doesn't want to talk to you, Corner," the Slytherin spat right back, "I can't make her!"

"DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!" Michael roared. "For the love of—! What the hell kind of friend are you? You're just letting her walk around like a zombie. Not taking care of herself. She looks sick! Like she hasn't eaten for a week!"

"NEWSFLASH, YOU CLUELESS DUMBFUCK!" Blaise raged right back. "SHE HASN'T!"

A hush fell across the room. Michael glared at Blaise, quiet but panting furiously. On either side of him, Anthony and Terry looked poised to hold their mate back from punching the other bloke.

"She doesn't eat. She doesn't sleep." Blaise's voice was quieter now and calmer. The room stood still, listening.

"Millicent says all she does at night is sit in the shower stalls and cry. She can hear her in there, hitting her head against the wall. She'll check on her, and Daphne'll say everything's all right. But she's not. Sometimes, she'll get sick. Or she'll make herself sick."

"Merlin," Michael whispered. "I didn't think . . . I thought she's been losing weight, getting paler, but, I-I thought I was seeing things."

Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long breath. "Snape and the Carrows have this all planned out, and they're sucking her in with them. They've already told her and Draco that on top of taking points, they're to start using the Cruciatus on disobedient students."

The D.A. let out a collective gasp. "No doubt they'll tell the prefects to do the same," Ernie muttered, shell-shocked. Susan stared at him, pressing her fingers against her mouth, horrified.

Blaise cast a glance at Luna, and then turned back to the others. "Why do you think you only see her during classes and meal times anymore. She doesn't want to catch anyone getting into trouble."

Ginny stepped forward. "But if she doesn't do her patrols, they'll hurt her."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course they will, you idiot! But right now, that's how she's dealing with everything. What else is she going to bloody do?"

Michael grasped Blaise's shoulder, twisting him around to face him. "I've got to talk to her."

"Are – you – deaf?! I already said—"

"I'm not taking no for an answer."

Ginny saw the determination in Michael's eyes and she couldn't help but smile. She knew he could be intense at times. As light and deft his sense of humor was, when Michael got something in his head, nothing short of "Obliviate!" could deter him. Michael would not and could not be swayed by anything at this point. He had a stubborn streak that could rival any of the Weasleys.

For better or worse.

"I'm not giving up on her!"

"Nor should you, Michael."

Everyone turned to look at Luna Lovegood, now walking towards the Ravenclaw and the Slytherin wizards.

"Blaise?"

He regarded Luna as if she were a little pile of Niffler poo.

"Will you be using your Invisibility Cloak tomorrow morning?"

"No." It came out more as a question.

"Wonderful! Then you can let Daphne use it so she can meet Michael and me in front of Ravenclaw Tower."

"Luna," Michael said, hesitantly, "maybe it should be just me first, y'know? I'm her—"

"Boyfriend, yes. Of course you are. But you're not the reason she's making herself sick. I am." She smiled, her silvery, protuberant eyes hopeful and happy. "And the only way that she's going to move past this is if she talks to me."

Michael opened his mouth, but promptly shut it when he realized the truth behind Luna's statement. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

She nodded brightly. "Well then. Why don't we make some plans, hm?"


"Daphne?"

She winced, squinting her eyes in the bright light. Above her, floating somewhere in the ether was a familiar voice. Masculine. The tone made her feel warm inside.

"Huh?" Her mouth felt like it was full of marbles.

There was a giggle, light and girly, just to Daphne's left. "Maybe give her a little space, Michael?"

(Michael?)

"Michael!" She shot up, and then immediately felt the blood rush to her head. Daphne moaned. "Ohhh—"

"Hey there. You all right?"

She shook her head and looked up. "Michael? Wh-what? Where the hell am I?"

This was not her Slytherin dormitory. This was definitely not the Slytherin common room. The last thing she remembered was sitting at one of the long study tables with Blaise Zabini.

Then things went dark.

Now she lay on top of a plush bed with a soft blue quilt, surrounded by downy pillows. She looked up, and felt swoony with disorientation. The canopy above was dotted with stars and heavenly bodies that swirled around and around.

It dawned on her. She was in a bedroom. With Michael and Luna.

(Dammit!)

(A girl tries real bloody hard to avoid people—)

"Michael? Luna? Where am I? What's going on?"

Michael took a hold of her shoulders very gently. "Daphne, this is my bed, all right? In the seventh year boys' dormitory. It's just you, me, and Luna."

"How did—?"

"Oh, we had a little help from Blaise." Luna piped up. "I think he did an excellent job concealing you with his Invisibility Cloak."

"But I don't remember—"

"He knocked you out."

Daphne's jaw dropped. "He – did – what?!" She tried to jump off the bed, but Michael stopped her. "I'll kill him! I'll—"

"Well, you can't blame him entirely. He only did it because we asked him too. Although," Luna said thoughtfully, "I suspect that he improvised knocking you unconscious. We really didn't mean for him to do that."

Daphne grumbled under her breath. "Stupid . . . idiot—"

"Zabini is an idiot, we won't dispute that. But we needed to talk to you, Daphne. You've been avoiding us and specifically me. Again." Michael shook his head. "I don't want you to."

There was a note of something in his voice; it was at once gentle as well as insistent. Daphne softened at his tone, although her expression remained stormy. "Wasn't avoiding you," she feebly mumbled.

"Don't give me that. You were. Daphne, I'm not going to watch you run again, not after what happened last year." He paused. "If this is the only way to get you to talk to Luna about what happened a week ago, then fine. I'll kidnap you fifty times over to get you to talk."

She gritted her teeth, angry at feeling cornered. "I – don't – want – to!"

"But I do, Daphne." Luna sat with her legs crossed on the bed, her fingers intertwined, her radish-like earrings dangling from her ears. "If we're going to be in this together, we need to come to an understanding about what happened. And you need to understand that I know it's very likely to happen again."

Daphne couldn't say anything in response.

(Again?)

(No.)

She tried not to respond to Luna. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about what happened that night. What Snape had forced her to do—

It was the only thing she could think about for the last few days. Looking at Luna's smiling face, Daphne remembered the small smiles that she had given her during the raid, even as Snape had ordered her to punish Luna for refusing to answer his questions—

And then the screaming.

"I don't blame you, Daphne. For what happened." Luna put a hand on her shoulder. Daphne recoiled from her.

"D-don't. Please don't."

Luna sat back down on the bed and brought her arm down. "Before we go further," she said after a few moments had passed, "you should know that, for a couple of days after it happened, I did feel some anger towards you."

Michael scoffed. "Daphne doesn't want to hear that—"

"I think it's important to be honest with each other. If we're going to get past this, we have to lay everything before the other person and not hide anything."

Daphne watched the younger Ravenclaw as she spoke. Luna's face and voice seemed to be more serious than she had ever heard before. The uncharacteristic gravity of Luna's demeanor, as much as her words, seemed to quell Daphne's mind.

"Go on."

"I didn't want to fault you for what happened. And I don't at all anymore." Luna gave Daphne a reassuring smile. "But there was this small, rather irrational voice in the back of my mind that kept saying, 'She could've done something more to stop it!' 'She didn't have to do what she did!'"

A sob escaped from Daphne's throat. Michael brought an arm around her.

"But I'm glad that I heard that voice. Because another part of me — a far bigger part — shouted it down. That voice reminded me of every word Snape said that night, about what they might do to me if you didn't punish me. I remember seeing your face, the fear in your eyes, how you tried to stop him before he hurt me." She canted her head to her left, her eyes once again soft and understanding. "That tiny bit of anger and fear that I felt, it was silenced. It evaporated. I remember what actually happened, and I know you didn't want to do it. I know that you were scared that Snape would do something worse if you didn't follow his orders."

"But L-Luna . . ." she sniffed. "Y-you have ev-every right to be angry wi-with me!" She sniffled again. "I should've told him to curse m-me . . . I could've stopped him. Could've Disarmed him or . . . or used a Body-Bind Curse on him. Something!"

"And if you had, Snape would've brought the Carrows in. And who knows what damage they would've done." Michael cupped her cheek and drew her face towards him. "I nodded at you to do it. Luna told me that she didn't see any way out of it." He brushed her bangs from her forehead, giving her a small peck. "Daphne, do you know how long your curse lasted?"

She shook her head.

"A total of seven seconds." Michael's voice was quiet and steady. "The first time you cast it, it lasted three seconds. The second time, you cast it for four. And instead of breaking for only ten seconds, you went over fifteen. Probably closer to twenty."

"H-how . . . how do you know—"

He shrugged. "I counted."

"I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . ." Daphne sobbed, her hand cupping her mouth. "Luna, pl-please forgive me—"

"You don't have to ask, Daphne." Luna again put her hand on her shoulder, but this time, Daphne did not wiggle away. "You already have it. And we need you back with the D.A. You've done so much already, and we can't do it without you."

Daphne chuckled; it sounded like a wet snort. "Sure I wasn't that missed."

"Blaise and Michael got into a fight and we concocted this plan. Everyone's been very worried about you."

"Some moreso than others." Michael said, as he took her hand in his. He gave her a gentle smile. She could barely respond.

Luna watched them, her smile never wavering. After a few seconds of silence passed, she spoke, a little more brightly than before. "I just remembered that I have some work to do." Very quickly, she hopped off the bed and straightened out her jumper and skirt. "I think I saw a new nest of Nargles upon the seventh floor. I want to make sure that they're flourishing, despite such a negative environment. So, if you don't mind." Without waiting for an answer, Luna left them alone, sitting together on Michael's bed.


Daphne used the shower room to freshen up after her sobfest. She finished drying her face off when she looked back up and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

She stifled a gasp.

She looked like shit. Actually, that was an understatement. She looked like shit warmed over. Her cheeks were sunken in, her skin had a ghastly pallor, which only served to enhance the large bags under her eyes and the red streaks left by her tears. Daphne wondered exactly what it was about her that Michael was still fancying at that point, because right now she sure as hell wasn't seeing it.

Her clothes hung off of her like an extra-large sack and she wondered if she had lost so much weight over just the last week. It suddenly hit her: she hadn't been eating all that well ever since term started. She really hadn't been sleeping well either, particularly since the second week of classes, when Neville was tortured by Amycus Carrow.

This week had been one of her worst at Hogwarts, second only to last year after eavesdropping on Dumbledore and Snape. Daphne's chin trembled at the memory of their exchange. Hearing Dumbledore compare her childhood to that of Tom Riddle's, the Man-Also-Known-As Lord Voldemort had sent Daphne into a tailspin. It had plagued her with doubts about her own self, her desire and capacity to be a good person.

And now, here she was: Daphne Greengrass — Instrument for Torture.

Her stomach lurched; she thought she might be sick. Her hands grasped the sink, her fingernails nearly breaking as they pressed hard against the porcelain—

A long and slender arm slid around her waist, holding her tight.

"I'm here, okay?"

Daphne swallowed as she heard the deep, warm voice of Michael Corner whisper into her ear. She shook a little as far too many emotions rushed through her.

"Come with me, back to the dormitory, yeah? I want to do something for you."

Soundlessly, Daphne allowed him to guide her back to his bed. She stopped as he sat down and leaned against his pillows. "Yours?" She said, pointing at a guitar that was out of its case, polished and shiny, resting at the foot of the bed.

Michael nodded. "Come here." He scooted over and patted a spot next to him, as he reached over to grab his instrument.

Daphne sat down, sinking into the plush pillows and quilts. She watched as Michael plucked the strings, twisting and turning the pegs to tune the guitar.

"It's my mum's." He leaned in, strumming a few chords to check the tuning. "She's the musical one in the family. Probably got my voice and my skills from her." The last chord dissipated in the air and he did a little flourish with his hand. "Any requests?"

Daphne shook her head and stared at the quilt covering Michael' bed.

"Muggle or magical?"

She shrugged, not daring to look at him lest she start crying again. For a few moments, there was quiet. And then, like a gentle breeze, a few notes wafted through the air. At first they seemed a bit random, but then they started piecing together, building smoothly into a familiar melody. It was a song Daphne had heard over the Wireless sometime in the far past.

Before this moment.

Before this war.

"Is that the song by Plato Mercury and the Pegasuses?"

Michael grinned. "'Magic's in the Air'. It is indeed. You like it?"

Daphne finally allowed a small smile to peek out on her face. "It's all right. Not bad for magical music," she said, almost teasingly.

He chuckled and strummed a couple more chords. "Well, I'll tell you why this song's one of my favorites to sing."

"Why?"

Michael leaned over and whispered into her ear. "It's Terry's favorite when he's pissed on Ogden's."

She laughed and leaned back on the bed.

"Whoa! Stop the presses. Daphne Greengrass is laughing. Michael Corner: One. Forces of Evil: Nil."

She swatted him. "Stop it."

Still laughing, he winked at her and began strumming the piece in earnest. He played the introduction to the song and began singing in his lovely, slightly tremulous tenor:

"There magic in the air, and every time you're near, I can . . . feel . . . your . . . spell."

Daphne couldn't help it; Michael sang and played his guitar, and the more she listened, the happier she felt.

"Everything's so clear, when we're together here, and no hex or curse can . . . stop . . . us."

She knew she was smiling — the first in what felt like in ages. She felt her smile grow with every note that Michael sang and played.

For the first time in ages, the horrible feelings that had been brewing inside of her from the beginning of the term and that had increased over the past week seemed as far away as the small galaxies rotating around on the dark blue cloth of Michael's canopy.

"Your spell gives me a light. There's no need to fight. I'll never Disappear from . . . you . . . now . . . "

She hummed along with him, letting herself soak in the melody, his voice, the guitar. The more he sang and the more she listened, she felt something strong and real grow in her heart--

Daphne realized that if she waved her wand right then and there, she would've been able to produce the most corporeal Patronus that anyone had ever seen. For of all the moments in all of her eighteen years, she knew that this was, by far, her happiest one.

"I'm uh-under your spell . . . and there's no where I'd rather be-e-ee . . . baby—"

(This is the greatest feeling in the world!)

(I love this.)

(Well, don't just think it! Tell him—)

She sighed happily. "I love you."

She smiled . . . and then she froze.

Her breath stopped.

(The song! You meant you love the song, you idiot!)

She had no idea, no clue at all why she would've said that! Daphne clamped her eyes shut, not daring to look at Michael.

It was one thing hearing him say it to her. Daphne willingly accepted whatever his feelings were. They were his emotions, and she wasn't going to force him to feel one way or the other about her. He had said it of his own accord, and she had been fine with that feeling coming from him.

But saying it back to him? After everything that had happened and everything that she had done? Daphne could feel herself welling up. Her chin quivered. What if he pushed her away? What if he said she was a monster, the kind that tortures his own Housemates? What if he chucked his guitar at her because he suddenly changed his mind and decided he didn't love her after all?

(Oh Circe! Oh Merlin! I fucked up!)

Anxiously, Daphne became cognizant of the immediate environment around her. Michael had stopped playing. She chanced a glance in his direction. He had turned towards her, his face almost level to hers.

And, of course, she was starting to bloody cry.

His mouth moved silently for a couple of seconds. "D- . . . did you just say, er—"

"Yes! Yes, yes, all right? I said 'I love you' Michael." Daphne drew her legs up and brought her head down, her forehead resting on her knees. "I don't know why I said it. Just ignore me!"

She felt his hand touch her shoulder, so she looked up. He was peering at her in a very odd manner. "Why would I ignore that? You know how I feel—"

"Because I suck."

"Daphne, you don't suck."

"B-bec-cause, I'm one of them! I hurt people."

"We already went over that, Daphne. Hey." Michael took her by the shoulders. "Look at me."

She did.

"Did you mean it?"

Daphne was terrified. She had said it, and almost immediately, she had wanted to take it back. It was that long-standing fear of rejection, the terror that was inside of her that she would be denied . . . something. Something she longed for more than she knew, more than she wanted to admit to herself.

A home. A place where she belonged, surrounded by people that loved her.

And suddenly, it was right there. In her body, in her heart. As much as she wanted to be loved, she also wanted to love in return, to willingly care and cherish another person not because it was a means to an end, or because there was some obligation to, but simply because she had chosen them, with all of their faults and all of her faults.

Maybe it was better to love someone even if they did reject her, because loving someone meant that she wasn't one of them. She wasn't one of those vile and murderous creatures waging war on the wizarding world. It meant that despite whatever may be demanded from her now on, she wasn't like Snape or the Carrows. It meant that everything Dumbledore had thought about her childhood had been wrong. It meant that, no matter how similar she had been to one Tom Riddle, Jr., she was not and would never be anything like him.

Because she could love.

She remembered Dumbledore's words during that fateful night when she had overheard him talk to Snape; "To love . . . allows human beings to accomplish truly great things . . . miracles, even."

Dumbledore. That magnificent bastard had looked into her heart and had seen the good in her. He had seen her desire to find a home, a place where she belonged, with people she loved more than anything else in the world.

Daphne blinked, looked at Michael, and saw everything laid out in front of her.

She took a chance—

And she nodded.

She wasn't entirely sure whether she was actually moving her head. Daphne watched Michael's face, desperately wanting to make sure her confession wasn't all for naught.

He exhaled and blinked in utter disbelief. He never said a word, but instead held her face in both of his hands, leaned forward, and kissed her.

She froze again, but only for a microsecond before she felt something else stir within her. Daphne smiled against his lips, making sure they never broke contact. Their kiss deepened, both teenagers turning their heads every possible way to connect at every possible angle. She felt her body unfurling from its tense and clenched position and she slid down on his bed, reclining in full. Michael followed suit right next to her, grinning as he snogged her breathless. Giggling and laughing, Daphne realized that whatever tears had been forming in her eyes were gone. Just gone. And the more they snogged, the tighter they embraced, she felt it.

Happiness.

Pure, unadulterated happiness.

She broke apart from the clinch and looked at him, unable to wipe away the smile that filled her face. She couldn't stop touching him too. She snaked an arm around his waist and cupped his cheek with her other hand.

She hummed pleasurably. "I love you."

"I heard," he said with a laugh. She laughed and swatted him; of course he was teasing her at a moment like this.

That was Michael. Always quick with a quip.

His own happiness seemed to radiate from the playful, teasing smile that danced upon his face.

"So, what do we want to do about it?" she asked.

"I dunno. Lay here and not go to classes. Ever!"

She shrugged, twirling his hair in her fingers. "Most classes aren't so bad. Now, Dark Arts and Muggle Studies? Get new teachers, and I'm there with bells on!"

Michael laughed and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. "So. You love me, hmm?"

"Yeah, I guess so." She swallowed and she looked at him with a more serious expression. "I'm sorry that it took so long for me to admit it. And I'm sorry that I . . . I took part in that raid. That I followed Snape's orders." She paused. "I wish I was a better person."

"Shh." He kissed her again and Daphne reveled as she felt his lips against hers. "You're a great person. Don't let yourself think otherwise."

Daphne returned the favor. "Thank you."

"Always. And, just for the record, I told you that I love you because that's how I felt. I wasn't expecting to hear it back."

"Yeah, but it took me long enough to understand what all this was inside of me." Daphne looked at him, his face so close to hers, they were practically on top of each other. "I've never said that to anyone."

Michael nodded. "I kind of figured."

She smiled sadly. "You're the first. Of any person, really."

He cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbing small circles on her skin. "It's really different, but it feels really nice."

"Well, you're the first girl I've said that to, so we've got that in common," Michael responded. "I think my parents would like you—"

She snorted.

"—If they met you . . . what?" he asked with a laugh, "You're positively charming—"

She cackled.

"—And quite dainty, too!"

Daphne made a noise like snort and chortle combined.

"Rather ladylike if I'm being honest."

"Stop it!" She swatted him mirthfully.

"Never, my fair Miss Greengrass!" He gave her a tight squeeze. "I never want to stop making you laugh."

Daphne looked at him. She couldn't stop smiling, nor could she stop the feelings of giddiness, of simple joy from flooding through her.

It was so unlike a Slytherin . . . and it couldn't have felt better.

He tangled his fingers in hers and he leaned forward to kiss her once again.

Daphne hummed blissfully, when a thought popped into her head. "Hey. Where're your friends?"

Michael was completely focused on Daphne's neck, but he answered in a muffled voice. "Mmm? What friends? I don't have any friends."

"Boot and Goldstein. Where've you stashed them?"

"In the library with Stephen. They're working on two week's worth of Transfiguration and Charms. Plus," he added, bringing up his D.A. Galleon, "they'll let us know when they'll be finishing up."

"Oh?"

Michael smirked and cocked his eyebrow. "Oh."

Daphne recognized the look on his face. Mischievous and . . . wanting.

"Mister Corner?" She grinned at him. "What's going on in that mind of yours?"

He answered her question not with words but with a very frisky hand. One that was traveling up her leg.

"You're kidding," she said, in a teasing, mock-exasperated voice.

"Well, I really haven't had much of a chance to properly thank you for the Astronomy Tower a few weeks back." He kissed the top of her chest, even as his hand continued its trajectory. "But, of course, we can always stop."

"No! Er, I mean, w-we don't have to. If you don't want to."

He laughed, but it was deep in tone. The private laugh he always used whenever they were alone. "I think it's your turn for left hoop."

All Daphne could do was vigorously nod. He flashed her a casual smile, but the look in his eyes told her exactly what he was thinking. It was anything but "casual". He wanted her. He really, really wanted her.

And who was she to deny him?

She laid back on his bed and sighed. "I'm all yours. Do with me what you will."

And he did.