Chapter Four: Dull and stupid rule-nerds

Summer rolled by. It was easy and nice in a way, wandering the streets of Muggle London with Harry and his interchanging shadows. They could be themselves, just two people who loved each other and wanted to spend more and more time together. They took boat trips, long walks in the park and Harry even showed Daphne what a cinema was - a technically fascinating and deafening experience that she had to admit she became rather addicted to.

When they weren't in London, Harry was entertained by the Greengrasses. As a family, they seemed to rally around him more now that he was only visiting infrequently. None of them pressed him on where he was going, her mother was far too quick to know it had something to do with Dumbledore and her father did as he was told so chose not to pry.

The only time they all left the house as one was the annual visit to Diagon Alley. While it was far easier to simply write to the shops and get them to post the various books and pieces of equipment they'd need, it was more fun to explore the winding alley, swindle extravagant purchases they definitely didn't need out of their parents and munch on stupidly good ice creams until they had to go home.

This year was a little different, because of a small green badge that had fallen out of Daphne's letter. She'd not been expecting it, to the point she'd been baffled at the sight of it bouncing away on the kitchen counter. A prefect. Whoopie. This was Dumbledore. She knew it. Snape would never let her be a prefect. He hated Harry and, by extension, probably didn't like her anymore. She prayed to anyone who would listen that the male prefect would be Blaise. She'd rather quit than do it with Malfoy.

Her mother had been ecstatic. Her father had been bewildered, as was his general state of being.

"We've got to get you something!"

"Do we?" Daphne whined, she hated being the centre of attention when it was thrust on her. When she'd done something, sure, fine, whatever, but this. It was like being congratulated for losing a leg.

"Yes."

"Why?" her father asked curiously, as he nibbled on a bagel. "It's just a badge."

"Ignore him," her mother insisted, not appreciating that she was fighting on two fronts.

"It's a very pretty badge," her father added, taking it up in his spare hand and examining it.

"Just think, you can put Goyle in detention," Astoria chimed in. "Or Malfoy. Or Crabbe. The pig." Crabbe had, once or twice, tried it on with Astoria despite the very loud refusals. His trip to the Hospital Wing had apparently been excruciating.

"No, because Daphne will be a responsible prefect."

"Will I?"

Daphne wasn't sure she was responsible. A hard study sure, a quick learner at times, fine, but responsible? She ran her mouth off too much for that. She was dating Harry and had way too many 'friends' that were in Gryffindor to be considered an upstanding pureblood. Maybe that's what Dumbledore wanted. A responsible rebel. Even then, that probably wasn't her. She'd not planned any of this, it had just sort of happened. Until she'd asked Harry to the Ball she was just another Slytherin and the implication that she was getting this badge in any way because of him was more than a little demeaning to say the least. Trust Dumbledore to be condescending and make her parents proud of her all at once.

"Yeah, right." Astoria snorted, agreeing with her sister.

"They've got a point," Daphne's father added.

"See, even dad agrees."

"Matty, you're not helping."

"Oh, right." Daphne's father drew himself up from his slouching position over the kitchen table to regard his eldest daughter. It was a miracle he didn't laugh. "Daphne. You must promise us that you will be a thoughtful, responsible and honourable prefect who doesn't abuse her position in anyway." He looked at his wife, who nodded, before adding, "unless you want to."

"Matty!"

"What? C'mon, I was joking."

"You're not funny."

"I think I'm funny."

"That doesn't count."

"It should, I'm hilarious. Ask anyone. Especially me."

Her parents squabbled like that for another few minutes, before her father dropped his childish demeanour, congratulated his daughter and headed off to the garden to attack a particularly stubborn fern that was trying to strangle his latest important from Peru. Harry showered her with praise as well, revealing that neither he nor Ron had been chosen as prefects - odd given that she had. She'd thought Dumbledore would've loved to give it to his golden boy. Not that Harry would've been a good prefect. He'd broken every school rule at least once and was probably trying to make a Hogwarts record to see how many he could snap before he left.

So, when they agreed with the Order the best date to go to Diagon Alley, Daphne, Astoria and her parents left both with the mission of finding their books and discerning the appropriate gift for Daphne's new-found position. A position, which she pointed out several times, that she didn't actually want. Her mother was undeterred and maintained that she had to get something.

Honestly, she just wanted more LEGO. She's already finished the pirate boat and treated herself to a more challenging bookshop. Her father had magically enchanted the ship so that it levitated on her bookshelf, the tiny figures manning cannons and saluting whenever she fetched a book to read.

Diagon Alley was, unsurprisingly, rammed. The list had been later than ever and hundreds upon hundreds of kids descended on the various shops, some eager to get their new books, others being dragged along by their parents and drooling over the latest brooms or clothes. Astoria, being Astoria, seemed to know everyone and they were constantly interrupted by people walking past them in the Leaky Cauldron as they waited for Harry and the others.

"Who's that one?" Daphne's father asked, as a doe-eyed blonde girl waved dreamily at Astoria.

"Luna Lovegood," Astoria informed him. "You know, her dad runs the Quibbler." The only magazine in the world that could make their father look normal.

"Do people really read that?"

"Apparently, they're always travelling, so they've gotta get money from somewhere. Luna's only just got back from Peru, hunting long-tailed blongledingers."

"A blongle-what?" their father was completely baffled, while his wife did her best to feign interest.

"It's a kind of spider with a huge tail."

"A tail?" her father asked slowly. "And it's a spider?"

"Yeah," Astoria grinned, "and it sucks the life out of monkeys and birds and stuff by warbling in G sharp. Or is it A flat? I can never remember," Astoria explained, "bless her."

"Deluded, the lot of them." Which was saying something from a man who'd just bought a tree that could infect other plants and turn them into miniature versions of itself if it was kept to close to them.

"I prefer curious," there was something in her voice that really said that she did. Of all people. Daphne shared a look with her mother. It was a knowing one, the kind that her father often missed out and was usually told the context for two months later when he'd caught up.

Daphne was spared a heated debate on the validity of the Quibbler by the arrival of Harry and his 'guard'. Remus Lupin, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and a young blonde woman with bright red lipstick, high cheekbones and smoldering grey eyes. Pleasantries were exchanged, the Weasley twins brightly introduced the family, the young woman who was called Dora, and the ex-Professor Lupin, who looked rather taken aback at being involved but tried his best to smile. Daphne's father, who had abhorred the fact Lupin had resigned in Daphne's third year, made a point of shaking his hand and asking him how he was. It was rather endearing in a slightly awkward way, but then that was her dad.

They chatted away pleasantly, the Weasleys disappearing when they got to Gringotts so that they could go to their vault in peace. At Flourish and Blotts they were accosted by Tracey and her mum, who instantly got diverted talking to Daphne's father about Puddlemere United. Tracey's dad was off out with clients apparently - although Daphne had never really gotten the point of artwork that couldn't move, he apparently enjoyed selling it to people.

"So," Tracey asked, "spill."

"Spill what? Oh, and do you reckon this'll be handy?" Daphne asked conversationally, she was used to Tracey's outbursts but was too busy shopping to be distracted. She held up the freshly printed copy of Ruining Your Runes? Agatha Pimbleberry's Guide to Perfect Runework.

"About you being a prefect!" Tracey announced dramatically in a hushed whisper that made the occupants of the curious spellwork section glare at them. It was a bookshop, not a library. People talked. So, Daphne glared back until they wilted. "And yes, her other one on potions is great! Saved me a bunch of times last year."

"Thanks," Daphne threw it loudly into her basket, just to annoy the group that had glowered at them before. "And to answer your question, yes, I'm a prefect. Guessing Granger told you?"

Gryffindor Tower was going to be a veritable palace for rule-observation when Hermione had finished with them. There was still no word on who the male prefects woudl be for the other houses. Ron was far too preoccupied about trying to get on the Quidditch team as Keeper, now that Wood had left, while Harry was a walking-talking trouble-magnet and there was no way in hell anyone should give him permission to wander the castle at night. He did it enough without being told he could.

"Yes, and why is she being told before me? Your best friend."

"Because I thought it'd be funny to see you explode with jealousy," Daphne lied, enjoying this far too much to tell the truth. She caved almost instantly at Tracey's face. "And because she wouldn't shut up asking whether I knew who got it for us. Like I care. I'd give it back if I could."

"Why?"

"'Cause prefects are boring," she was whining, and she hated it, but she had to complain to someone and that person was usual Tracey. "They're dull and stupid and rule-nerds."

"Be fair Daph, who else could they give it to?" Tracey began holding up fingers and counting off names. "Moon's a drip, Bullstrode's got the brains of a troll and Parkinson's lot are going the way of the Malfoy's by the sounds of it - can hardly go rewarding a bunch of proto-Death Eaters, can they?"

That was true enough. The Malfoy family, along with the Goyles and Crabbes, McNairs and all the other Death Eaters Harry had named - aside from Pettigrew - were being interrogated by the ever efficient Madam Bones. The investigation had stepped up its intensity since Madam Bones had been put forward as the new Minister and she needed some way of getting her anger out.

"Plus, you're dating Potter," Tracey went on, "which instantly makes you flavour of the month to good ol' Dumbledore. Wonder who'll get the other one? Blaise surely?" Her expression soured. "Guess that means I'll be seeing him less at the castle too."

"You guys alright?"

"No," Tracey admitted heavily, "I wouldn't mind but it's like he's not even bothered. Feels like I'm giving all the effort and it's going into the big sucking vacuum of poo."

"Careful, you might get thrown out with the language like that." Tracey managed a half-smile but continued to peruse the shelves glumly, her fingers lazily trailing across the spines. "You'll be okay."

"That's not the same as it'll be okay."

"True," Daphne admitted. If she was honest, she doubted it would be. Blaise was as pure-as-pureblood could be, with the added spice of a money-grabbing mother. The longer they dated, the more obvious the gulf between them became. In the castle it was fine, but outside, where whispers were more powerful than spells being a Slytherin wasn't always enough.

"It might not be okay. It might end and be awful and terrible and dreadful." Tracey looked like she was about to point out that this was by far the worst pep talk she'd ever had, so Daphne rushed along to the uplifting part. "But nothing stays bad forever and if he passes up on you, then he's the idiot. You're great."

"Cheers, Daph."

"No probs," Daphne gave her friend a small rub of the shoulder, she wasn't good at this, but she tried. And she wasn't lying. Tracey was worth a thousand Blaises. She just hoped that her garbled speech had been enough to tell her that. Why couldn't her lack of filter help her friends with incredible speeches, instead of landing her in the hospital wing or being grounded by her mother?

The conversation shifted towards school, who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts would be, and the dreaded exams at the end of the year. Tracey generally hated exams and they often didn't agree with her. She wasn't stupid, far from it, she was just one of those people that let the suspense get the better of her.

Once outside, the two Slytherins rejoined the others at Fortescue's Ice Cream parlor. The staff seemed to know Harry incredibly well, and as soon as they realised who Daphne was they insisted her order was free. Apparently, he'd spent a lot of time there in his third year, when the Minister had been convinced he was going to be offed by Sirius.

The rest of their purchases were made with little effort and, laden with bags, the groups split up. Tracey headed back home with her mum, while the Order and the Weasleys vanished back to Grimmauld Place. Harry stayed with the Greengrasses, who were roundly questioned by Mrs. Weasley if they were going to be careful.

"Oh, not to worry!" Daphne's father assured her. "Harry'll be safe with us."

"But -"

"My dear woman, I assure you, Harry's quite safe." He regarded the rest of the 'guard' over her shoulder, who were all loitering around. "We'll be picking up Daphne's present and then heading straight home. You can come! We'll make an evening of it."

"That really won't be necessary."

"Are you sure? We have…" he looked at his wife.

"Food?"

"I was looking for more specificity than that."

"Nice food?"

"Yes," he said happily, Daphne shook her head while Harry grinned at her. Where she found her father the epitome of embarrassment, Harry seemed to have a soft spot for the eccentric head of her family. "That! It wouldn't be any trouble."

Mrs. Weasley was able to bat away his offers and then, seemingly forgetting to fuss over Harry one final time, she and the Order left.

"Odd group to bring on a shopping trip," Daphne's father commented when they'd left and were heading towards Leicester Square. "Dumbledore must be worried if he's sending an auror to look after you."

"Auror?" Astoria had grown up on an unhealthy diet of crime novels and wireless dramas about them. "There was an auror and you didn't tell me?"

"Dora," Daphne's father explained, "Tonks. She's new. Ish. Sort of new. Newish, I guess. Didn't think she'd get wound up in his little gang of misfits."

"You know about that?" Harry asked, aghast as they were buffeted into by a man in a trench coat who didn't look at any of them and carried on walking down the street.

"Know's a strong word," Daphne's father said, "but in a way. He tried to get us to join, will likely try again. Can't say I'm fond."

Of course, he had, Daphne had known from the moment she'd met Mr. Weasley. Dumbledore couldn't leave well alone. Of course, he'd want her parents backing. As if looking after Harry when the Headmaster had so spectacularly failed to do so over the summer wasn't enough. No, he had to try and get them to join his clandestine groups of loveable rogues hell bent on getting themselves killed. Daphne had said none of this to Harry, but the Order struck her as entirely peculiar. Why bother hiding away in London when the whole Ministry was in upheaval?

"Why?"

"If I'm going to be fighting You-Know-Who, son, I'll do it on my terms, not on the whims of a headmaster who likes to play politics when it suits him." Daphne's father was about as sold on Dumbledore as he was on Fudge some days. "We need to be united. Things are changing, at least I hope they are."

"We can talk about that later," Daphne's mother said, pointedly glancing behind her. Unbeknownst to all of them, the small man in the trench coat had doubled back and appeared to be following them from a distance. He stopped, talking to a vender, but his gaze never left the Greengrasses.

"Friend of yours, Harry?" Harry nodded. "At least he's not a Death Eater."

They carried onto Leicester Square, where Daphne was instructed to pick out whatever LEGO set she wanted at the behest of her mother - who had apparently never planned to buy her anything in Diagon Alley. This led to half an hour of agonising, before Daphne settled on the bookshop she'd originally wanted. Her father, out of passing interest, picked up a small bonsai tree for himself, claiming it would look good in his office.

The evening passed too quickly, much like the rest of summer. The Ministry was set to announce its new Minister, but other were still tallying votes and awaiting final decisions. All too quickly, Hogwarts loomed and it was time to say goodbye to her parents. She always hated leaving, most kids couldn't wait to get away from their parents, but Daphne loved her mum and dad. Sure, they could be embarrassing, but whose parents couldn't be?

On the last day, they ate too much breakfast, chatted a little too loudly and hugged far too often.

"Have a good term," Daphne's mother said, pulling her daughter into one final embrace. "Both of you!" Astoria wasn't spared and yanked into an overzealous squeeze.

"Mum!"

"You're not too old for a hug."

As her sister and mother squabbled, Daphne turned to her father.

"Stay out of trouble," she said to him.

"Shouldn't I be saying that?"

"I'm the responsible one now, remember?" Her badge was lodged firmly into the depths of her trunk and would only be coming out when she had to attend the stupid prefect meeting. She normally sat with Tracey and she'd been looking forwards to her first train ride to Hogwarts with Harry. She'd still get one but it wasn't the same joining halfway through. She'd made him swear to buy her a few chocolate frogs.

"Ah, yes, right you are," he smirked. "Well, I promise to stay out of trouble. You going to be okay?"

"Always."

"That's my girl," he gave her a tight one-armed hug before letting her go, "now go on with you, get good seats. Have fun. Don't do anything your mother wouldn't do."

Daphne laughed, tried not to cry, forced herself to stand straight before yanking Astoria away from their mother and heading onto the train. They parted almost instantly, Astoria off to find her own friends and Daphne heading to the stupid prefects. This was going to be fun, she just knew it.