Per the usual, this hasn't been edited by anyone but me.

The Burrow was… ramshackle. It was the first time she'd ever visited the home of actual, honest-to-goodness blood traitors, but it appeared the Weasleys were happy with their lot in life, reputation notwithstanding.

Daphne supposed she should count herself lucky she'd recently spent several days living among those beastly muggles on Privet Drive. Remembering how much worse Harry's other summer residence was provided a valuable contrast, and the obvious comfort he displayed here lent it a certain rustic charm. Certainly it at least had hot water, she thought, remembering the icy showers at the Dursleys.

His party was boisterous and nowhere near as well-attended as Neville's was, with practically zero crossover among attendees. There was Hagrid, two chairs pressed into service supporting his ponderous bulk, chatting with Luna. Professor Lupin was engaged in a deep discussion with Mr. Weasley near the head of the table. Bill and Fleur, who'd greeted her with cool "Hello"s on her way in - the veela had clearly won him over to her opinion of Daphne since they'd last met. Mrs. Weasley had yet to sit down, bustling to and from the kitchen for refills and more food.

Ginny sat on Daphne's left, currently enduring good-natured teasing from her twin brothers. Directly across from her were Ron and Hermione, bickering. And on her right, beaming at everyone with a blissful smile, was her boyfriend.

And that, she thought with a frown, didn't make sense.

She could discount Harry's earlier enthusiasm; after all, it was the first time they'd seen each other in more than a month.

But now? Professor Lupin and Mr. Weasley were doing a piss-poor job of keeping their voices low as they spoke about the consequences of the Durmstrang headmaster's recent murder, but Harry cheerfully held her hand beneath the table, thumb running a slow circle over her knuckles. Neville had sent the letter, hadn't he?

"I went to see the Twins' new shop, and Fortescue's was closed. He's disappeared."

"Him and Ollivander," Mr. Weasley added. "Everyone's saying-"

"Enough of that," Mrs. Weasley snapped, coming in with a cake in one hand, a treacle tart in the other. "Now's hardly the time or place."

"Oui," Fleur agreed. "We are here to celebrate Harry's birthday."

"It's alright," the young man in question said, but Mrs. Weasley shushed him, ladling out a heaping serving of treacle onto his plate. "This is great, really."

With worry gnawing at her gut, Daphne picked at her dessert, though the quality of the rich carrot and walnut cake in front of her came close to overpowering her distress. She managed to hold back until he finished a second piece of the treacle tart

"Do you want to go outside?"

Ron leaned forward, breaking off his argument with Hermione mid-sentence. "Sounds good to me. I'm so stuffed that if I don't start moving around I'm fit to nod off."

Hermione and Ginny voiced their agreement, and Luna obviously wasn't going to be the only one staying behind. So, much to Daphne's chagrin, the six of them trouped outdoors together, settling in along the shore of a large pond a quarter-mile from the Weasley home.

"How was Neville's party?" Hermione asked, once they'd sat down. "Ginny told us she saw you there."

"It was nice." Daphne might have said more, but truthfully, she couldn't muster the energy to indulge in small talk with her. "Harry, could we take a walk?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, but Ron just chuckled and joined Luna in trying to skip stones on the pond's surface.

"I don't think Mum would like you going off on your own…" Ginny began, but a nudge from Hermione's elbow ended her protests, and Daphne felt a little bad about blowing off Granger just a moment prior.

Harry held out his hand, helping her to her feet and they walked off into the patch of woods bordering the pond. "I like your outfit."

Daphne smiled. All in all, Luna hadn't done the worst job in putting together an outfit - it probably helped that Daphne was larger than most of Luna's more… eccentric pieces of clothing. A pair of lightweight, billowy pantaloons that - thanks to her greater height - stopped three inches above her ankles, overtop a belted white shirt dress. "Thanks."

She didn't resist when he gently tugged at her hand, pulling her close and drawing her into a kiss. The feel of his lips against hers made her stomach do an odd series of flips, and unconsciously her hands fisted in his shirt, wrinkling the neatly pressed fabric when she tugged him closer.

How often had she thought about doing this over the last month? 'Every day' came the immediate reply from inside her. Harry's moan when she traced his lips with her tongue sent a shiver of delight running through her veins. She never thought kissing a boy could be so addictive, but if Harry was a drug, she happily admitted she was hooked.

Daphne sighed into his mouth, choosing to forget the tension and worries she'd lived with as omnipresent companions for the last several months. They stayed that way for some time, but when Harry's hands slid down her back to rest on her bum, she pulled back.

"Can we talk for a minute?"

His grin was carefree, genuine. "Sure, as long as it's about something other than exam results. Hermione's as good a friend as there ever was, but even I've been at my limit."

'How are you so happy right now?' she wanted to shout at him. "You're in a good mood," she said instead.

"Why shouldn't I be? It's my birthday, we don't have to go back to school for a whole month, and I've got the prettiest girlfriend in the whole country."

Harry couldn't lie to save his life, not to her. Not after Daphne spent six months carefully observing him every moment she could. He was a consummate Gryffindor. All of this led Daphne to only one conclusion.

'Longbottom, you bastard!' "I bet you got tons of well-wishes, especially after what happened at the end of term."

His focus was drifting down to her lips. "I guess. Some of the teachers sent me cards. A few people from the DA."

"What about your roommates?"

Harry's arms curled around her while he answered. "Yea, I think- yea, even Seamus sent me a note. If you're looking to compare gifts, though, you should know you and Luna blew everyone else out of the water." Then he dipped his head and kissed her.

His mouth tasted faintly of treacle, and Daphne's sigh was swallowed by his lips. A momentary fantasy flashed through her mind, of enjoying her boyfriend and choosing not to be confrontational. Of letting it go, letting Harry handle his problems while Daphne did the same for her own. It would be so easy…

There was a reason, even as she thought it, that such a notion was just a fantasy. The fear, deep down in her stomach, the weight of the unknown at what fate had in store for Harry Potter. How could she pretend everything was fine and still look at herself in the mirror? Harry's propensity for getting into trouble wasn't some laughable cliche for everyone to roll their eyes at any longer; or maybe it still was, only Daphne wasn't part of that 'everyone' anymore.

He mattered so, so much.

They paused to breathe, nuzzling against each other. Daphne kept her eyes closed, able to feel his eyelashes' delicate stroke against her brow, the heat of his breath on her skin, the whisper of his bangs against her forehead.

And she could feel the smile melt off his lips as hers brushed against them, whispering the words that shattered the tranquility of their walk in the woods.

"Born at the end of July, to parents who defied the Dark Lord three times…"

A vibration, a tremor ran through his frame, rippling from his jaw down his body. A second later his hands gripped her upper arms tightly, pinning her against a tree. "What did you say?!" His voice was quiet, harsh, his eyes glinting and narrowed. "Where did you hear that?"

"So Longbottom did send it in his letter."

"Neville told you?"

She struggled against him, trying to free her arms but Harry's grip was like steel. He stepped closer, putting his knee between hers and effectively trapping her in place. "Not all of it, no." He let out a relieved exhalation. "But I need you to tell me the rest. I have to know."

"No, you don't. And you can't mention what you heard to anyone."

"It's that bad?" His expression was carefully blank, nothing save irritation bleeding through. "But- you've been-, all day today you've been fine. Happy." He should be reacting, outraged, scared, something!

"Daphne, let it be. Neville had no business-" It couldn't be more than twelve hours since Neville's letter arrived, but Harry's only concern seemed to be that she was clued into the prophecy's wording.

"You already knew it," she realised out loud, finally piecing together the reasons behind his nonchalance. "That's why- how could you not tell me?!"

"Some secrets are too important to share with anyone."

"Well, I'm not anyone, am I? You-" she stuttered to a halt. "Wait, even Weasley and Granger? Nobody knows?"

His Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed heavily and he glanced away, over her shoulder. "Dumbledore does. He's the one who told me."

"Harry." She waited until he met her eyes before she continued. "I need to know what the prophecy said."

"I can't tell you. It's too dangerous, Voldemort doesn't know the whole thing, and it's important he doesn't."

"How would he find out?"

He looked furtive, unsure. "If someone found out you knew, they might-"

"You don't trust me," she interrupted, her indignation roaring through her like a hungry flame. "Even after everything that happened, you think I would betray you?"

"It's not that-"

"Let me go," Daphne jerked harder against his hold, hurt and anger granting her newfound strength. "Get OFF me!"

Harry released her and took a step back and she pushed his hands away and stormed off, back towards the Burr- back towards what could only charitably called a home. She saw Ron and Hermione pause amidst another argument and look her way, saw Luna squatting to try and talk with a garden gnome, saw Mrs. Weasley's eyebrows raise when she entered the house alone.

The adults were still sitting at the table, though teacups and milk servers had replaced the dessert. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"It's upstairs, dear, third door on the left."

Daphne effortlessly glided up the stairs, still stewing over deliberately being kept in the dark. All those letters and long conversations about their lives, and he kept this from her? After he said he trusted her?

'Look what happened the last time you hid things from me!' she wanted to scream. The memory of being stuck, alone in the Forbidden Forest while Harry and the others flew away haunted her. He might not come back the next time. She halted at the top of the stairs at that sudden realisation.

Longbottom's retelling of their fight in the Ministry made her all too aware of how close it must have been. If help hadn't arrived, if Dumbledore had been just a little late, would Harry have come back in one piece? Would he have died?

She grit her teeth and clenched her fists. Idiotic Gryffindors! He was going to tell her, and then Daphne was going to help him, and that stupid, stubborn boy was going to let her. Resolved, she began walking again, seeking out the bathroom.

The heavy accent stopped her a few feet from the stairs, her own thoughts and anger having deafened her up to that point.

"There, you look radiant, oui?"

"It's… it's gorgeous. You're really good with transfiguration." Daphne heard the whisper of swirling fabric after Ginny Weasley spoke. "I've never owned a dress like this."

"You are a young woman now, your clothes should reflect this."

They were in a bedroom, and the door was only half-shut. Daphne was ready to continue walking past when Weasley's next words froze her feet to the floor.

"Maybe so, but he's never so much as looked at me like anything but Ron's kid sister."

"You said Harry did not pay attention to her until she changed her appearance, no? You will dazzle 'im."

"I don't know…" Daphne crept forward, making sure to stay out of sight while she peeked into the room. Weasley stood in front of a mirror, looking at her reflection while Fleur whispered poison into her ears. The redhead wore a short sundress ending three inches above her knees, the neckline loose and flowing. The kind that was easy to stare down were she to bend over, for example. "I've been talking with Dean, and he seems really into me."

"You should follow your heart, of course," Fleur said, tone dripping with sugar and honey. "I'm sure any boy would love your dress as much as Harry. I just thought this might help after you told me your concerns about this other girl."

"She's up to something," Weasley said hotly. "I just know it!"

Fleur was quiet for a moment, the two of them staring at their mirrored reflections. "I'm afraid of the same thing. I'm afraid for him."

"Fleur? I'm sorry, you know, about that whole 'Phlegm' business. It was really immature."

Daphne had heard enough. She wandered back down the stairs, listless and unnerved. Was it always going to be like this? Having to constantly prove herself worthy of him, prove herself worthier than others? The two of them were so certain she had some nefarious motive. Positive the only reason someone like her could want Harry Potter was to hurt him.

'A whole month until we go back to school,' he'd said. A whole month with Weasley shoving her tits in his face and the veela nodding in approval in the background.

She stepped outside, leaning against the house and closing her eyes. What was she doing? The whole summer she'd been talking to him, thinking about him, and when she finally saw him, what does she do? Make demands and pick a fight.

Daphne had to do better than this. She had to be better, be the perfect girlfriend. The sort that any boy couldn't help but fall in love with. So she marched back out to the pond where Harry had rejoined his friends, full of purpose and determination.

Harry looked at her warily as she approached, but she ignored his expression, instead walking right up to where he sat. Without any preamble she straddled him, sliding onto his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck, shoving her tongue into his mouth and holding him close.

She kept kissing him, even when Hermione squeaked in embarrassment and Ron let out a loud wolf-whistle. It didn't matter that her insides still felt all twisted with anxiety, that the doom foreshadowed in that prophecy dominated her thoughts. Her feelings weren't important, not compared to his feelings for her.

With a groan, he pulled his mouth away from hers, offering her a hesitant smile as their kiss came to an end. "Are we alright?" he asked.

"Yea, we are," she replied, forcing her mouth to contort into a smile she hoped looked genuine.

After all, she'd been living with fear and worry about Astoria for her entire life, what was a little more?

Leaning her head on his shoulder, so focused on the questions she wasn't asking, Daphne never paused to consider when exactly the boy she sat astride started to occupy such prominent company in her heart.


"Mum and Dad sounded really mad. I could hear them shouting from here."

Daphne hummed in response, flipping through the pages of the latest issues of Witch Weekly, showing Astoria each article for her perusal. "You don't need to worry about it."

"You were always really good at school, though. Was it- did you do poorly because I-"

"Shush. You know how Mum and Dad are, I did fine." She really didn't, with a slew of Acceptables and even a Dreadful in History of Magic. Arithmancy and Potions were the sole bright spots, Daphne scoring an Exceeds Expectations in both. "Look at this - Celestina Warbeck spotted visiting Gilderoy Lockhart at St. Mungo's. Guess the rumours about them from a few years back were true after all!"

Astoria seemed to weigh Daphne's attempts at denial and diversion. "If it's not-" she paused, coughing violently for several seconds. "Not your OWL marks, then what is it?"

"What's what?"

Her sister's thin, skeletal fingers, skin so pale as to be almost transparent, twitched. Daphne reached out and gave her a gentle squeeze, keeping her eyes on the magazine.

"You seem so sad."

"Well, I'm not." What else could she say? Astoria had far more to worry about than her big sister's boy trouble. And anyway, even if she did want to burden her, telling anyone about The Plan was a recipe for disaster.

Still, there was no denying she felt different in the days following Harry's birthday. "How's Pansy? She hasn't visited at all this summer."

"We had a fight. It's not really a big deal."

Astoria made a frustrated noise, and when Daphne closed her eyes she could imagine hearing the same sound when they were younger and Tori was denied something she wanted. Everyone in their family, Daphne included, spoiled her rotten. Except when she opened her eyes again, Astoria wasn't the stubborn little girl waiting with her hands on her hips. She was a frail, dying teenager.

"I hate this." Daphne folded the magazine, unable to pretend she was still paying attention to the articles. "Nobody talks to me. Y-you all-, just want to ignore me, p-pretend like I don't exist!"

Astoria's voice trembled, her weakness so great that expressing any emotion was a heavy strain on her. "You shouldn't get upset, you don't have the strength-"

"You're just-, w-waiting f-for me to die."

Daphne couldn't help it. For as much as she did her best not to cry around her sister, her eyes welled up in an instant, tears spilling over to tumble down her cheeks. "Please don't talk like that. You're not going to die!" Astoria was gasping for air, the dry rattle of her breath a stark contrast to Daphne's own wet sobs. "It's okay, baby, just calm down. Breathe, breathe."

"What's the matter?" Their mother stood in the doorway, taking in the scene before her. "Are you two fighting?"

Daphne ignored her for the moment, keeping her focus on her sister. It had been so long since she held her, hugged her, felt Astoria's arms squeeze her back. Nearly a year in this bed, alone with her thoughts. When she reached out to touch her cheek, though, Astoria turned her head.

"Just go." Her mother patted her on the back on her way out, settling into the seat Daphne vacated to try and calm Astoria down.

Her feet carried her the familiar route back to her room, even while her eyes remained blurry from her tears. She couldn't blame her sister; Merlin knows Astoria had every right to feel wronged at the injustice of her life. Daphne knew she was only lashing out. If anything, she blamed herself, not Astoria, because her sister was right.

Daphne was sad. Her letters to Harry continued, but they were frivolous, artificial. Shared speculation about the new DADA professor, exchanging their course selections, sugary sentences about missing him, signed with hearts and kisses. She never asked about Weasley or the veela, and neither did the prophecy ever come up.

He was lying to her, and she knew it. And what was worse, he knew she knew and he didn't care.

She couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts, back to Harry and away from her parents. He liked her already; Daphne was certain once she had access to him on a daily basis, love wouldn't be far behind.

And then, there wouldn't be any more lies. Not from Harry, and not from her, either.


Two weeks later, the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade's station. Harry held out his hand to escort her to the carriages. "You ready for this?"

She allowed him to pull her out of her seat. "Do you think if we stay here, the train will take us back to London?"

With a laugh, he pulled her closer, slinging his arm over her shoulder. She nestled into his side, breathing in his scent. For someone with his background, Harry didn't have any problems touching her - not that Daphne was complaining.

"C'mon, it can't be worse than last year!" Didn't he realise he was tempting fate just by uttering such words?

His hand reached out for the latch on their compartment door, but she stopped him before he could open it. "Did you notice more students walking around during the ride than usual? Especially ones from Slytherin?"

For a long moment he didn't respond, and Daphne was afraid he'd dismiss her concerns. Instead, he pulled his hand away and rubbed it over his face. "I saw. Maybe… maybe it was a bad idea, sitting together on the train."

"There was no point in trying to hide it, not with Pansy knowing. Besides," she added, putting on the bravest face she could manage, "I'm not about to let you pretend like you're single. I'd just end up hexing every witch that makes eyes at you."

Judging by his expression, her joke fell flat. "Much as I like you getting territorial, if you're worried about this, I'm bloody terrified."

"I'll be okay. I've known most of my Housemates since before Hogwarts. I'll be fine." A year ago, she even would've believed that. But the memory of Umbridge's office, of the viciousness on faces she'd always thought as friendly belied any such assurance. "We should go before the carriages leave without us."

Perhaps because of their delayed exit from the train, they secured a carriage all to themselves. For a little while, they simply sat and listened to the thestrals' hooves propel them forward, until Harry said, "I should've been helping you with Defence, like you asked last term. It's my fault you're in danger."

"It's okay. I wasn't serious about the tutoring; I really just wanted to spend time with you. Besides, even if I was as good as Dumbledore, I doubt it would help me against the whole House." Harry raised his eyebrows as if to object, and she gave him a gentle shove. "Relax. I'll be fine."

They held hands all the way into the castle. Daphne wasn't sure if the sweat on her palms came from her, him, or a mixture of the two of them. With the entrance to the Great Hall looming, he gave one last squeeze and let her go, heading for the Gryffindor table.

The walk across the hall to the Slytherin table felt like a monumental journey. At least half of the upperclassmen from the other three Houses locked onto her, along with a significant number of the younger years. Daphne could take some solace in the knowledge most of the little ones probably had no idea who she was, and only stared to see what the older students found so morbidly curious.

Her Housemates were completely silent as she approached. Some shot baleful glares at her, others locked their gaze onto the bare tabletop and refused to meet her gaze. Students slid down the bench away from her as she took a seat, to the point that she had a five foot gap on either side of her. It would've been comical if it happened to someone else, the way students scrunched together to avoid being near her.

All except for one student. Gleaming black shoes, polished so thoroughly she was sure if she looked, she'd be able to see her own reflection in them, clicked with every step on the stone floor. The familiar swish of finely tailored acromantula robes, same as her own, glided along bare inches off the ground. Daphne stared straight ahead, seeking and finding Harry's face among the countless looking at her. His rage was almost incandescent, teeth clenched and posture rigid, his tension mirrored in her own posture as Draco Malfoy took a seat alongside her. He didn't say a word, simply sat as uncomfortably close as was possible without touching her.

McGonagall led the First Years in at that moment, conjuring a stool to seat the Sorting Hat. Daphne barely paid attention to the ceremony, noting only that Draco clapped politely for every pureblood student. She glanced towards the faculty table, looking for some sign of support from Professor Snape, but he was focused on the Sorting with a bored expression on his face. Dumbledore, however, was staring intently at her, his electric blue eyes boring into her.

She forced herself to breathe. This was expected, after all. Harry was arguably the most famous person in the country, and his relationship with Daphne had only been public for a few hours. She'd take some hazing, be ostracized, teased, pranked, and then it would all blow over.

The final First Year hopped off the stool, excitedly running to Hufflepuff's table, and the food appeared with a snap of the Headmaster's gloved fingers. Daphne mechanically filled her plate with a tidy portion of vegetables according to her diet, shoving a forkful of something or other into her mouth. It tasted like chalk. A bit of pumpkin juice sloshed over the rim of her glass when she raised it to take a drink. Shaky hands. And with that, Daphne finally mentally gave in to what her body had apparently already acknowledged.

She was afraid.

Through it all, Draco sat next to her, calmly eating his meal with the grace becoming his background. He still hadn't said a word.

Her roommates were grouped together further down the table. Pansy alone among them was watching her closely; Tracey sat, head bowed, plate untouched, while Lilith and Millicent ate as though nothing was wrong, only occasionally glancing her way. No help would be coming from them.

When the Welcoming Feast came to a close, Daphne stayed seated. Better to let her Housemates get a head start, allow herself to get lost in the crowd to slip into their dorms a bit later. And sure enough, students from all the Houses rose, marching out of the doors to start the trek back to their various common rooms.

All, that is, except for a dozen Slytherin upperclassmen, including Draco. She waited, but they made no move to stand up on their own. She ran her eyes over the remaining students, tallying those that stayed behind. Every one of them came from a family with at least one Death Eater.

Harry and his friends were grouping near the exit, Ron and Hermione tugging on elbows or tapping shoulders. A subtle tension filled the air, the potential of something present on the faces of the students loitering in the Great Hall.

That tension, though, immediately diffused as the teachers descended from the faculty table. "You were dismissed back to your dorms," McGonagall said sharply, casting a gimlet eye over the two lingering students. "If I have to ask again, each of you will be joining Professor Hagrid in cleaning up the creature pens. I understand an impressive amount of dung has built up."

Daphne met Harry's gaze, trying to scream 'Don't!' as emphatically as she could with her eyes. Eventually, he turned and led the others out. She stood from her seat, the action mirrored by those who'd waited for her, and like a phalanx they surrounded her on the walk back to their common room.

Draco spoke the password ("Artifice") and as soon as they were inside, Pucey, Crabbe, Goyle, and Montague promptly started clearing the common room.

"Piss off, back to your dorms," they said, and "Common room's closed, come back tomorrow." While they were barking orders and shepherding firsties, Draco perched against the back of the couch, arms crossed.

"Can we just get on with-" she started to say, tired of imagining what was going to happen next, but Draco held up a hand, his palm facing out.

"I appreciate your help," he said, looking over the students that 'escorted' her back to the dorms. "I'll speak to Daphne alone."

Daphne. Not Greengrass, not the blood-traitor. He said her name like they were still friends. For some reason, it was more unnerving than a blatant threat. "Well, you've got me alone. Is this the part where you tell me all about how I shouldn't be sullying myself with a half-blood?"

Her false bravado produced only a small smile from Draco, and he motioned for her to take a seat on the couch. With little other option, she did so.

"You think I'm going to tell you to stop seeing Potter," he said, moving to stand in front of her. The fire behind him made his silhouette darker, shadowed. "But that's not the case, not at all."

"Okay. So what are you going to tell me?"

Draco sneered down at her, the calm facade he'd worn the whole night finally cracking. "I can practically see his fingerprints all over you. If you want to pollute yourself so thoroughly, there's nothing I can do about it. You've made your choice, now you'll have to live with the consequences."

Daphne said nothing, leaning back into the couch to try and maximize the distance between them.

"Since you've decided to forsake your heritage, your blood, and your House to chase celebrities, it's only fair for those of us who still care about such things to ask you not rub our noses in it. You'll need to find somewhere else to be from morning til curfew."

She could hardly believe it. "Is that all?" All these theatrics, for this?

"I expect a simpleton like Potter to be completely besotted with you by now. Make sure he stays that way. Make sure every thought that enters his over-inflated head is of you and only you. Do so, and I'll make sure the people you pretended to be friends with for the last six years don't give you too much trouble."

"Why? Why do you care?"

Draco bared his teeth in a faux approximation of a smile. "I told you, change is coming. Enjoy your honeymoon with your half-blood dalliance. I don't want to see him or you for the rest of the term."

This wasn't like him. Draco lived for showing off his supposed superiority. It was why he'd consistently sought out Harry and his friends their entire tenure at Hogwarts. "What are you planning? What is it Harry might get in the way of?"

He went on as though she hadn't spoken. "It won't last forever, of course, but I'm sure you'll get at least a few months of time to sully yourself even further. If you should fail to hold his interest, or interfere yourself, well… that's when those consequences might pop up."

"I'm not afraid of you." It was a lie, and he knew it.

He leaned forward, bending so his face approached hers. "Does your family share your courage? I wonder, how many Greengrasses are willing to share the same sticky end as everyone else that stands at Potter's side?" Draco stood back up and smoothed his long, blonde hair. "Think about it, or don't. I'm just telling you the score. Goodnight, Greengrass."

He turned away, heading for the boy's dormitories, but paused when she called out to him. "I won't let you hurt Harry. I'll stop you."

Draco chuckled. "Much as I'd like to, Potter's already spoken for. I won't lay a finger on him."

He vanished down the corridor, and Daphne hugged her knees to her chest, staring at the fire in the dark, empty common room.

A/N: Been ages since AMR updated. This chapter, and the 2 or 3 after this have given me a lot of trouble. Not because I don't know what's going to happen (I've been writing chapter 19-20 already), but because I don't know how to make the first half of Sixth Year *interesting*. This part of the story is dull to me, but we've got to slog through it to get to the good parts. Hope I don't lose you all along the way.

Story rec: you know who's great? WolfgangNH. Guy updates like a machine, with a truly incredible output. 'A Different Type of Bond' is a fantastic Haphne fic, and the first story I read that made me truly HATE Umbrdige more than I did in canon. It's one of those stories you read on tenterhooks until the richly deserved comeuppance is finally delivered. Brilliant premise, and fantastic story.

I've been having a blast with 'A Straight Flush', my dimension-twin fic. I challenge you to read the first chapter and not be intrigued. It's a fun twist on a fairly common trope.

'Til next time,
Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles