She listened hard to the sound of her heartbeat. In the mirror, she could see her hair had now returned to normal. Her gaze lingered as the scar splitting her eyebrow in half caught her eye - maybe she was still drunk, or just was high on emotion, but for the first time since receiving it, she didn't mind seeing it stare back at her.
Tonight had been perfect. Tonight had been the night she had been striving to have all her life. A small taste of the future that she deserved. What brought them to it may have been awful, and there may still be well worse to come, but tonight and tonight alone, had been nothing less than an isolated slice of perfection.
A loud knock at her door dragged her from her mind. She was annoyed, because reminiscing tonight's events had felt like a wonderful dream.
Now, rudely awakened from it, she turned to acknowledge the door, but a millisecond later it was flung open anyway. She moved quickly - abruptly realising she still had more alcohol in her system than she thought - and pushed her back against it. She wasn't in the mood for seeing anyone, and didn't much fancy anyone seeing her in this emotional state either.
"Who is it!?" she asked quickly, though already standing a good chance at knowing the answer.
"Who do you think, dingbat?"
A second passed before reluctantly, she stepped aside and allowed the door to swing open. Tracey entered, the infamous, all-knowing grin on her face once again.
Daphne had been expecting that she would want all the details of her first official-date, but was hoping her prying could have at least waited until breakfast. She was ready to make her way to the bed, to sit down and begin a long recount of her night, when the girl crossed her arms and made a loud announcement.
"Visitoooor!" she sang.
It was then made apparent why she opened the door as wide as she had. There was a distoritian in the air behind her, which moved into the room. The invisibility cloak pulled to the side revealing Harry, who was still in his outfit from their date, but with his face returned to normal.
Blushing, her mind instantly leapt to the extreme. She never had a boy in her private dormitory before. And why else would he be here? Had he decided he didn't want to leave the night with just a goodnight kiss and was here to finish the job? Her cheeks grew red. She stared daggers at Tracey to make herself scarce.
"Harry... This is… unexpected…" she said innocently, swaying her hip to the side, "How can I help you?"
But then, all feelings of lewd excitement vanished as he reached into the air and pulled the rest of the cloak off, revealing his friend Ron stood with him.
Her face dropped in disappointment. A loud second passed. Confused, she fought for her words.
"What? Why? What's happening?" she tried. "What are you planning?"
Tracey moved in, excited.
"Are we goin' on a chosen one adventure?!" she asked with a squeal.
"Where is she, Harry? Is she hiding?" Ron asked as though he was drunk.
To say Harry looked uncomfortable with the way events had turned out would have been an understatement. He gestured vaguely to Ron, who was gazing around her dormitory in vague wonder.
"He's had a love potion.."
Daphne continued to stare at them, expecting a follow up to that proclamation.
"Okay?"
Still uncomfortable, he gave a shrug.
"I was... hoping you could fix him."
Finally, her mind kicked into gear. Now she felt as awkward in her own skin as he did, and even more so as they stared expectantly at her.
"I would have thought you would be capable of that?" she raised an eyebrow. "Considering your newfound expertise in the subject?"
She had been needlessly condescending when she had said that. He shrank back a bit, but she felt no remorse. He was looking like the entire concept of potion-making was alien to him.
"I don't have the right ingredients..."
She gave him a long and hard stare. Ignoring the disappointment spreading around her system, she straightened up and gave a cough into her wrist.
"Right. I'll have a look, then."
She rolled the sleeves up on her dressing down and moved to her dresser.
"Make yourself useful - hand me the ingredients?"
He joined and they reached her makeup mirror, where she pulled a wooden box of ingredients out the cupboard door and slid it over the woodwork to him. Waving her wand, she cast a spell which caused a floating flame to appear, then set up her class cauldron above it.
"You know how to prepare this brew?"
"Yeah. Honestly, I would have done it myself, if I had everything. Should have seen me trying to get him down here."
True to his word, Harry was able to shuffle through the ingredients she had stored and hand her the right ones at the correct time intervals. Barely a few minutes passed before they had a fully functioning brew before them and had slipped back into their oh-so refined system. As he handed the ingredients her way, she got a very warm nostalgia blast sweeping her system, taking her back to the brewing sessions that first brought them close together in the first place.
The nostalgia hit so hard in fact, that for a brief second she forgot the purpose behind their brew, and jumped quite abruptly as she noticed Tracey and Ron still in their proximity.
"H-How did you find out the password to get inside?" she asked, forcing herself back into the conversation.
"Didn't. I brought him down in the cloak, then knocked on the wall. Was hoping when someone came to answer we could slip by them. But nobody came, then ten minutes later, Tracey turned up anyway."
Suddenly remembering how many school rules they were breaking by them being here - and that being a Prefect was responsible for enforcing those rules - she sent a venomous-filled glare across the dorm.
"You are not allowed to let members of other houses into our common room! And what were you doing out at this time?"
Tracey, who was leaning against the frame of her four poster bed, laughed with snark.
"Pfftt, yeah. As if I'd confess that to a Prefect!"
She glared at her.
Opposite, Harry offered a vial of castor oil, as though it were a peace offering. Reluctantly, still watching Tracey from the corner of her eye, she returned attention to the brew.
Harry gestured to his side.
"What's with all the letters?"
Her stomach churned at the words. She had planned to dispose of those earlier today and hadn't managed to get around to it. Suddenly feeling as though the ground beneath her was sinking, she struggled to keep her face straight. She felt silly so continuously pretending not to be fazed by her father anymore, when it was obvious even to others that she was.
"From my father."
Harry peaked his brow in curiosity. Tracey moved and scooped a letter from the top of the pile. With her hands in the potion, Daphne was powerless to stop her.
"Do not read letters not addressed to you!"
But she continued, reclining against her oak-wood wardrobe and paying her protest no mind as she began to read her father's most recent letter, which was the howler she had received last week. Of course, she had nothing to worry about in those letters, there definitely nothing in that anyone in this room didn't already know. The only one she wouldn't necessarily trust was Ron, and even then, she trusted Harry's judgement. Not to mention he hardly seemed in the coherent mindset. The content inside those letters was more embarrassing to her now than it was incriminating.
It only took Tracey a few seconds to make her way through it, holding it so close to her face one could be mistaken for thinking she was trying to eat it.
"Who is Mer… Merlooa? Merule?"
"Mer-rule-a," she said slow. "Merula Snyde. Why, what does he say about her?"
"Nothin' much, just mentions her a few times... Says his friends can't find her and that's bad news for you. By friends, does he mean…?"
She waved the letter around in vague gesture.
"Yes. Merula is one of them."
Her face turned to an ugly frown, followed slowly by a peculiar expression that Daphne couldn't place.
"Do I know her?"
"I can't imagine why you would?"
"I'm sure I have... Doesn't mum know the Snydes?"
It was the rare look of concentration that was on Tracey's face. On a broomstick this was quite natural, but she barely ever sported a look so determined in her day-to-day life. She was thinking very hard about something, and the second that occurred to Daphne, her mind also leapt to life.
What did that mean? Daphne thinking Merula looked familiar after a chance encounter was one thing, but if Tracey was able to recognise the name as well? Was there something obvious that they were both missing? Just as she felt like there was a realisation on the tip of her tongue, Harry brought attention his way, knocking on the table.
"You're out of wiggentwigs as well."
He almost yawned the words. She felt that. Tonight had been an eventful night for the both of them already, a potion problem was the last thing she'd expected at this time.
"Ah... bugger..."
He nodded.
"Yeah, so am I. That's the only thing I didn't have."
She brought her thinking hand to her mouth.
"Hmm. Oh - it'll have been Horace's lesson on miak brewing earlier this week. We needed wiggentwigs for that… Likely, all of us will be out."
He made a troubled face. He had been getting steadily impatient, which was understandable. Tracey pitched in from the side, apparently trying to be helpful now.
"Yo, I could have a check in my box?" she gestured over her shoulder and out of the dormitory. "I din't take Potions, so haven't touched mine since last year, I could 'ave some?"
"If you could spare some, please?"
Leaving the letter on the side, she brought herself off the wardrobe and left in a hurry. Her dormitory was only two down from hers, but her absence left the room enough time to readjust to the quiet, which was only broken by the bubbling from the cauldron. Ron seemed to be on his own realm of existence, she observed, which left only her and Harry.
She had been in the process of her nightly routine when Tracey disturbed her. Often sleeping naked, that meant all she was wearing presently was her velvet green dressing gown. Naturally, that made her feel exposed, but not in the way it normally would. Whatever excitement she would have been feeling from being near-naked in her dormitory with her boyfriend, was overshadowed by the ugly, blackened stain staring up at them from her forearm.
She looked away from it and back to the brew, but caught Harry doing the same. His eyes had flickered to her mark a few seconds longer than intended, and she had caught him staring. He turned away quickly. The speed at which he did so, one would have thought she had caught him in the act trying to sneak a peek beneath her dressing gown. Honestly, she would have felt less embarrassed if that was the case.
"It's…" she breathed a heavy sigh, "... nothing you haven't seen before."
Her consolation just seemed to make things worse. Harry deflated slightly.
"I am sorry about all this," he gestured over to Ron. "Don't let it spoil the night for you."
She wouldn't deny that steps had certainly been made in that direction, but wasn't there quite yet. Some souring of her evening was not enough to dampen the memories of their date, which were still fresh in her mind. And it was for that reason that she then decided to have a little fun with him.
"I confess…" she brought her mouth into an amused smirk. "I thought it was a... rather different reason you were visiting me, this evening."
He stared at her blankly, tense and confused. Her meaning was lost on him. Feeling a little brave, and more importantly, still a little tipsy, she took a glance at the ajar door to her dormitory before continuing.
"Well, we've been on and off for nearly a year now. All the while, never really having a chance for things to get serious… then you come bursting romantically into my dorm the night of our first date? Why, Harry! - you cannot blame a girl for being disappointed!"
She ended with an icy laugh.
A dawning realisation seemed to descend upon him at once. He looked quite suddenly between them and the open door of her dormitory.
"Ron, get out."
Ron, who had settled himself on the foot of her bed and half-fallen asleep there, suddenly stirred. But Harry was already gathering him and trying, aggressively, to drag him towards the door. The blind fury with which he moved made Daphne snigger.
"Harry!" she cried for him.
"No! Come on mate, out, now!"
He had just about wrestled Ron into a headlock and was in the process of dragging him from the room when Tracey reappeared through the doorway.
"Nah, sorry Daffy! Thought it was a long shot, I'm out too."
She skipped in cheerfully, completely unaware of Harry near-collapsing to the floor at the sight of her.
"Are we going to Romilda now, Harry?" Ron said loudly.
Tracey finally noticed the strange position Harry had forced them into and laughed at them.
"You could take him to Madam Pomfrey?" she offered."She's sound, she doesn't ask questions."
She shook her head, gesturing to the brew in front of her.
"I'm already brewing the potion. It'll be good to drink after I can add the wiggentwigs. There's probably some in the grounds, but I'm not authorising a trip out the castle at this time. Can we not think of anybody that may have some?"
Purposely ignorant to the look of sheer hypocrisy Harry was giving her, she continued stirring the potion.
"Sluggy, probably?" Tracey suggested. "He'd be able to sort us the right stuff out, right?"
She thought about it.
"He's not exactly allowed, but… well, I can't imagine him refusing. I'm one of his better students, and if I tell him they're for Harry he will most definitely agree."
With an audible amount of effort, Harry recovered from his position with Ron.
"We're not on the best terms, at the minute," he said as he rejoined them.
"What happened?"
"Nothing, just… a bit of a disagreement over something. I'm sure it'll be fine. Both of us there, as you say."
She shook her head.
"Actually, it'll probably be easier if I just go. It's late, me and Weasley are the only one allowed out, and he is incapacitated. You all wait here while I go ask him."
Tracey made a loud noise, making them both jump.
"I've wanted to go on a Harry-Potter-Hogwarts-Adventure since the Chamber of Secrets was opened! You are not takin' this from me!"
"Quiet!" she hushed her. "And don't be ridiculous!"
But Tracey looked oddly happy she was being disagreed with her, as if she had been waiting on it.
"You'd really leave me alone in a dormitory with two boys? One of which is under the effects of an extremely powerful love potion? When anything could happen?! I thought you were a more responsible sister than that!"
It was hard to tell if she was joking or not. Of course, they both knew she was, but the way she smiled as she said that, it could go either way. She might just be assuming the worst, but she also didn't put it past her to try and seduce someone purely out of spite. Even Harry seemed to understand the possibility was real and tried to salvage the mood with a laugh.
She nodded in jaded defeat.
"Right. Fine. Everyone, under the cloak."
How they had managed to make it this far, she wouldn't have been able to guess.
They were walking in a tight group, with Tracey and her carrying the potion and the boys following up their rear. The invisibility cloak barely stretched over each of their ankles. All of their feet were clearly visible and it was for that reason her mood had done a one-twenty, and she was now thanking the Old Gods it was as late as it was. The annoying part of this was of course, the fact she had no reason to be hiding. As a Prefect she had no reason to be sneaking around after curfew, and it was only that she didn't trust herself carrying the weight of it alone, or wanted to risk levitating a bubbling potion, that was causing this act of mass-degrading.
"Can we slow down? I do not want to risk spilling this."
They were barely walking as it was, so now slowed to even more of a shuffle. With all of their bottom-half's visible, it really wouldn't have been a mystery to anyone passing that that they were here. She had the good sense to have put on a pair of shorts and a tank top under her gown before they left, and was very much glad of that decision now. It was getting extremely hot under the cloak, as everyone's breath began to join together.
After a while of moving like this, Tracey giggled.
"Oooooh, Harry... is that your wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"
Daphne's automatic response was to poof out her cheeks in attack-ready, but as she raised her voice to yell, Ron's drunken laugh filled the inside of the cloak.
"It's my dick, actually."
There was an explosion of screams as everyone dived away. All pretences abandoned, each of them leapt from under the cloak until he was the only one still under it.
There was a thunderous clang as Daphne's cauldron hit the floor, totally spilling her half-brewed potion all over the cobblestones. It gave a loud fizzle, steam rose up, and the potion was gone. A roar of frustration had been building steadily inside her, but by the time it finally worked its way out, it was drowned by Harry's far louder one.
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" he yelled at his friend.
He snatched the cloak off his friend, whose face turned sour.
"Not my fault… being close to girls… not used to it, is all..."
But it was evident that he was existing on some otherworldly pane of reality to the rest of them. Tracey's thunderous howls of laughter echoed loudly through the dungeon corridor. She was enjoying this far more than she had any right to be. Daphne and Harry looked at each other in unanimous, angry agreement.
So much for their perfect night.
There was no point trying to be secretive now. Between the shouting, dropping of the cauldron and Tracey's laughing, probably the entire castle was aware of their exact position, how many of them there were and where exactly they were heading. At this point if they were caught, it would be easier to go with it and explain a good reason why they were out than it would be trying to mask their trail. Their best hope was to get to safety as quick as they could, as silently as they could.
She snatched her empty cauldron off the floor and stuck a sharp finger down the corridor.
"Go! All of you! Right now!"
With their heads down, everyone marched the direction in which she pointed like a troupe of school children obeying a teacher. Five minutes later they arrived outside the Potions Master's office, which was a door down to the room that held the Christmas Party late last term.
Hushing them to be quiet, Daphne knocked. She was growing worried Horace would already be long in bed by time they arrived and that their whole complicated journey would end up being for nothing. But then, a peep-hole gap slid open on his door and he appeared, wearing a similar dressing gown to her own and looking misty-eyed.
"Ahhh, Daphne my dear! Oh… and Harry? My, my!"
The tiredness rapidly swept from his face as his eyes met them both. She smiled sweetly at him.
"Hello, Horace. Sorry for disturbing you so late. Our friend Ronald Weasley here has been infected by a love potion and both Harry and I conveniently lack all the ingredients to brew him an antidote. We were wondering if you would be able to assist us? We brought our own cauldron?"
She held the cauldron up to meet his eye, hoping he wouldn't notice the small remains of their previous attempt till sloshing about inside.
Though the time of night was indeed working against them, apparently the sight of two of his favourite students was enough to make him relent.
"Of course! Come in, come in."
He clicked the door open and each of them filed inside respectively. Ron, who was the last in, knocked into the door and rebounded off it, tripping over a footstool and crashing into Tracey, who was barely able to support him in time. They struggled in place for a moment.
Tired and more than fatigued with their friend's antics, neither Daphne nor Harry made any attempt to help either of them. Eventually, Ron regained his balance by seizing Slughorn around the neck and pulling himself to his feet.
"Don't reckon she saw that, do ya?" he asked in a very staged whisper.
Finally, Harry had enough, dragged him roughly from their Professor and pushed him into an armchair. Clearly, he was still feeling quite sour about the opportunity Ron had robbed him of - she didn't blame him, either.
"My private collection is there," Horace gave a vague gesture to the opposite side of the room, " ehh... just under the dresser. Do help yourselves… I imagine a brew as simple as this would be an easy accomplishment for two of my best best students."
As he turned to close the door behind them, he jumped suddenly at the sight of Tracey, before then giving her an equally warm smile.
"Ah, you are also here, Miss Dacy!How nice."
Either she hadn't noticed he'd gotten her name wrong or was too polite to pull him on it, she smiled warmly back.
With cheeks blushing harsh with shame, Daphne bowed politely to her Professor.
"We will be quick. Thank you, Horace."
Horace's study was a comfortable set up. It was light by low-hanging torches and candles, and had an air about it that reminded her of the Slytherin common room. Their Professor himself looked ready for bed, and had half a glass of something strong smelling waiting for him by the fireplace. He was being polite to them, but she could sense hers and Harry's presence was out of place. No matter how good terms you were on with someone, nobody liked being disturbed this late in the evening.
It was for this reason that despite the comfortable setting, she felt very awkward as she moved across the room and began sorting through the ingredient cupboard. She thought of having Harry assist her again, but then decided his attention was best served distracting Horace until the potion was complete.
It didn't take long to get a small fire going under her cauldron and for her to begin again shifting ingredients into the bubbling liquid. As she began to work, she heard the rest of the group move around the room.
"Forgive me, my boy… I feel our wires have been mismatched, because I seem to recall you telling me…"
Horace was talking in a hushed tone, but was doing a bad job at being quiet. Harry jumped in quickly, answering in an equally secretive voice.
"We were in a bad state when I said that. We've made up now."
"Ahh, very well! That's good, then!"
But their conversation had gone on well within earshot and she couldn't pretend to be ignorant. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted them glance her way. She continued snapping the wiggentwigs for an awkward second, then turned reluctantly to them.
"Yes, Horace… We're also seeing each other. We were all along."
Honestly, the transparency of her and Harry's situation was the least she could offer in return for this favour. Call her naive, but she doubted he had a single untrustworthy bone in his body. She had found it difficult to even believe Harry's story of him earlier this night, and hadn't thought twice about revealing their true intentions to him just now. Of all the people in Hogwarts that could find out about her personal business, he was among the few she minded least.
On that note, it was a sudden occurrence to her that between him and Sirius, she was starting to build quite the close-knit community of trusty-worthy people in her life. Compare that to a year ago. In fact, if this whole situation had happened a year ago, she likely would have taken one look at the state of Ron and kicked all three of them from her dormitory. Part of her wished she was still capable of that - she really had turned soft.
The old Professor beamed back at them both, clapping his hands together.
"Oh splendid! Splendid! And there was I excusing you and Miss Dacey of being an item!"
Beside him, Harry gave a confused look. Behind them both, Tracey looked pleased. Thankfully, nothing more was said on the matter.
She repeated the same movement brewing this potion she had done not half an hour before, but now with the bonus of actually having all the ingredients. The next ten minutes passed at a snail's pace, as Harry and Horace maintained polite, slightly uncomfortable conversation, with Tracey or a slurring Ron occasionally contributing.
"Where is she, Harry? You said she was in here? Is she waiting to surprise me?" Ron asked loudly into the room.
"Oh, not to worry! She's on her way, Wazlib, my boy!" Horace said, smoothly.
Clearly he had dealt with people in Ron's position before, she observed. Suppose things like this were regular occurrences that the castles resident potions master was just used to dealing with, then? A light-hearted image occurred in her mind as she again imagined this situation playing out a year earlier, but with them having to go to Professor Snape instead.
Horace patted a loud hand to Ron's shoulder, then turned again in her direction.
"How is that little pick-me-up coming, Daphne, dear?"
With a swaying of her wand, she added a few pinches of castor oil to the brew, causing it to turn blue. Then as she stirred it, it turned a very delux shade of purple.
"Ten more minutes," she answered. "Sorry again about all of this."
"Quite alright, as I say! Love antics and what-not! Practically part of being a teenager in my book! And there's no one I'm sure he'd want working on it more than yourself," he said, then after a moment, added, "except maybe Harry, that is!"
Daphne's expression dropped, just as Harry's leapt.
"Why, I haven't had a student study potions under me since the days of Severus Snape! A prodigy if I ever saw one!"
There had been an underlying tension rise whenever potions had come up as a subject. Of course, she was not fool enough to think it had been her tutoring that had given him this out-of-nowhere skill It was the fault of the Half Blood Prince and his infamous cheat sheet book. She would scold Harry for it, but success was success, there was no denying. But it definitely didn't make her feel good about the time she had wasted teaching him.
"Thank you, Professor... Really, Daphne taught me everything I know, though."
He let loose a loud scoff.
"I doubt that! You marks are far better than hers! She is a very close second of course, don't get me wrong!" he threw a meaningless smile her way. "But you truly are your mother's son, you know that? If you don't get a career as a potion brewer when you leave Hogwarts, why - why I'll eat my hat!"
The hand in which she gripped the ladle began gripping it that little bit tighter. Harry, at least, looked uncomfortable under their shared gaze. He had the common sense not to feel smug about it, then. Good.
Tracey hitched herself onto a reading desk, swaying her feet in the air playfully.
"Yanno, I'm surprised love potions like that are even legal. I reckon you could properly mess someone's life up with one of them. Mad that they sell it so readily!"
Unusually responsible words coming from her, Daphne thought, but didn't say. Horace moved to take centre stage in the room, as he often did during lessons.
"Well, you see, love potions that you'll find on the market are extraordinarily weak. They exist more for the novelty of it. Just take a look at Rabbity here! A professional love potion wouldn't do that! This is a commercialised kind, made simply for teenagers to play tricks on each other! Sold in joke shops, typically..."
He shook his head, then continued more seriously.
"... An actual love potion - one along the likes of Amortentia - now… With a steady supply of that, the feelings caused would be practically unrecognisable from the real thing… from an outsider perspective, at least. Only the brewer would know it wasn't genuine. It's for that reason those kinds of potions are extremely regulated by the ministry. Love can be a dangerous, dangerous thing."
Daphne nodded, watching her reflection distort in the bubbling cauldron water.
She knew all too well how correct he was.
"So he's not actually in love with her, then?"
Horace gave a chuckle.
"Of course not! No magic can create actual love, not even Amortentia! It can only replicate it! Trick the drinker into thinking they're in love. And I think you'll find that with the kind of off-brand stuff you get in the likes of Zonkos - of which I'm sure Mr Wesley here has fallen victim to - they tend to fall more in the direction of obsession, rather than love."
Tracey pursed her lips as though kissing the air, thinking hard.
"Still pretty messed up, though. Hey, Harry, who gave him the potion, anyway?" she shouted to him.
Though trying to keep her attention on the potion, Daphne perked an eyebrow at this. The thought hadn't occurred to her to ask exactly who had been the source of spoiling her evening.
"Romilda Vane. Gryffindor, fourth year," he answered grimly. "Disguised as some Honeydukes chocolate. They were probably meant for me, Hermione says she's fancied me for a while."
Tracey gave a wicked cackle.
"Hear that, Daffy? You've got competition!" she cheered. "So how does it work then? Is it any girl he's in love with - er, obsessed with, or is it just Romilda, then?"
Horace brought a hard hand down on Ron's shoulder, making him jump in surprise.
"Well, she is the object of his affection, but... Well, as far as hormonal teenage boys go, I can't imagine in this state that he is particularly picky. I should warn you not to get too close... Lest a very awkward morning after is what you seek! Oh!" he laughed.
At this, Tracey jumped down from the desk and sauntered a step closer to Ron and Harry, wiggling her hips far more than necessary.
"Hi there, handsome."
Ron grinned back at her. Daphne cringed. So, apparently, did Harry.
"He's got a girlfriend," he said as he came quickly between them.
Tracey laughed back.
"That didn't stop Daffy."
The wiggentwigs crushed in her hand. Harry recoiled in horror, Horace slapped a hand over his mouth.
For such a low blow, she had delivered it with such innocence and cheer. Though she then tried to laugh it off with her usual mischievous grin, the speed Daphne's glare caught her did cause a flinch.
"Leave it out, Tracey," she warned.
They glared at each other for a moment, then Tracey gave a snort, but otherwise fell silent. Even she seemed to have recognised - to a certain degree - that she had just crossed a line. Daphne's first instinct was to go on the defensive, but the more she thought about it, she did have a point.
Determined to move the subject on, she turned away from the cauldron, leaving it to bubble.
"Vane will be getting into trouble for this. I will be reporting her to Professor McGonagall. Love potions are forbidden in the castle grounds."
Horace gave a bellowed laugh.
"Come now, Daphne, my dear! A bit of harmless antics I would say, no? Nothing more sinister than that!"
She wasn't able to keep her glower up for love against his infectious grin.
"So..." Tracey began again, returning to her spot by the writing desk, "...what's the difference between legal love potions and illegal ones, then? How much trouble she gonna get in? Like, what's the limit?"
"Well as it stands, Amortentia and Yanderave are the only whose effects are strong enough to warrant their banning. And even then, there's plenty wiggle room. Why, everyone is aware love potions effect is simply unreliable to achieve the desired results, so everybody automatically discredits them. The confundus charm or Imperious curse would be far viable if one was trying to say, fake a marriage. The laws around love potions simply do not require vigorous upkeep."
She and Harry shared a quick glance with one another.
"Bit mental we're being taught how to brew them in school, then?" Tracey asked.
"Oh, my dear! Hogwarts will teach you a wide range of skills, but I doubt all were designed to be used practically! I can't imagine any reason, for example, why the life-cycle of Blast-Ended Skrewts would be relevant to anybody who is not planning a very specific career studying them in the future!"
Daphne glowered darkly at her Professor. The ease at which that information had spilled from his mouth, it suddenly became a lot easier to imagine him accidentally letting slip information that would help a young, rising Dark Lord.
Horace suddenly clapped his hands together loudly, causing the group again to jump.
"Ahh, but of course! My attention has been on our resident Potions-prodigies, and I forgot that we have a rivalling number of Quidditch Players also we in our midst!"
As quickly as her mind filled with fears of the Dark Lord and Death Eaters, it was cleansed of them as an all new worry filled her mind. She tried to fire Horace as many discouraging warning glances as possible, but he continued obliviously.
"I am very sorry to hear about what happened at the last match, Miss Dacey, Blaise told me. From the way he tells it, it was quite the unfair encounter. Of course, you should know if there was anything I could have done about it, I most certainly would have done! I simply cannot stand injustice going on right under my nose! Sadly, my duties as Potions Professor only go so far… of course, if I had still been the Head of Slytherin House, things might have been different! I suppose needs are a must though, if it leads to a Slytherin victory! No offence to you Harry, my dear boy!"
For the first time, Tracey said nothing back.
When Horace did notice the looks Daphne was giving him, he didn't take the hint, but instead frowned back at her. Harry joined in, sealing the space between them with a similar expression.
"What do you mean? What happened?"
"It wasn't about winnin'. It was about making a point."
From Daphne's position she couldn't see Tracey's face looked, but her tone of voice filled her in on what was about to happen. The topic of Qudditch had been carefully avoided the past few days and she doubted that in the presence of Harry, an avid Quidditch fan, was how she wanted it bubbling back to the surface.
"What? You didn't hear? Weren't you at the match?" she asked, her voice no longer bubbly.
"No, I was with Dumbledore... Sorry I didn't get to. But, I heard you guys won, didn't you? What happened?"
She sent another last ditch-attempt at glaring Harry into submission. She swore he was starting to enjoy it when she did that, as it was having less and less of an effect on him each time she did it.
"Slytherin won, but I sure as hell didn't. Snape replaced me as seeker, last minute. Draco took over."
Harry's head turned so fast, it looked as though an invisible assailant had snapped his neck from behind.
"What? Why!? You'd been training for it, what happened!?"
"He wanted his spot back, so they gave it him. That was it. No vote or anythin'! Didn't matter that I had been to every practise and was helpin' out everyone on the team!"
"Why does he want to come back? Why now?" Harry asked, his voice growing increasingly louder.
Tracey moved, Daphne watched as she stormed across the office and leaned on the fireplace, staring scornfully into the flame.
"Dunno. Snape just said whatever prior arrangements he had were over. Bullshit, if you ask me. I reckon the whole thing was just done to prove a point. He'd gone too long without provin' he was better than the rest of us, so needed to flex some superiority."
Harry's temper was suddenly alive and rampant.
"That's ridiculous! That is bullshit! They can't not have you play! We were going to rematch for the cup!"
Tracey didn't look up from her position by the fire, her mood now irreversibly soured.
"It is what it is."
As Tracey's mood darkened, Dominique's words on the matter raged rampant in Daphne's head. There was nothing she could say that would improve Tracey's mood, how anyone could expect more than that was beyond her. She had no power over the Qudditch Team, so what more was there for her to do? She wasn't about to try and falsely boost her confidence, all that would be doing was setting her up for disappointment in the future. She listened to Tracey rant and tried to offer solid feedback on the situation. That was her duty and she had fulfilled it, both as a friend and a sister.
It didn't matter what Dominique said, she knew she'd done all she was capable of. But that didn't help the sinking feeling she got that, now it was time for something to be said, she was meant to be the one saying it.
At this point, the potion turned a bright pink. That signalled the end of it's brewing cycle. Normally it was mandatory to leave it to settle for a few minutes before drinking, but Daphne was quick to scoop some of it into a flask and hold it up triumphantly. It wasn't anything she would submit for grading, but it would definitely get the job done. And she was looking for any way to move the subject past where it was.
"Here! This should be fine!"
She passed the hot vial to Harry, and he to Ron. Tracey perked her head up. As a group, they watched him drink it. For a moment, the red-haired boy continued beaming. Then, with a reigning look of horror, his grin dropped and he all of a sudden looked as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water at him.
"Oh god. These girls… they're bloody mental."
At this note, the group of four successfully became five and Ron Weasley was back with them. Harry pulled him into a reluctant hug.
"How'd you feel, you daft git?"
Ron smiled vaguely, patting his friend on the back.
"Could use a drink, not gonna lie."
Horace gave another cheer - the kind he had become known for - succeeding in making the group jump for the third time tonight.
"Now then, my thoughts exactly! I do realise it's probably not my place as a Professor to suggest it, but I figured since we're all friends here…"
He moved his way over to a drinks cabinet.
"Miss Travis could use the cheering, Wibbly here could definitely use a little pick-me-up… Daphne has successfully completed her Prefect duties by mixing an antidote to help out a fellow classmate, and Harry, well!" his face turned into a very bright smile. "Here's to forgiving and forgetting, yes? Hmm, I should think so! What will it be, everyone?"
Tracey leapt from her spot by the fire, rejoining the boys. Every trace of her mood vanished the second alcohol was mentioned.
"Oh, right on, Sluggy!"
"Let's see now, we have mead, butterbeer, oh, I am on my last bottle of this elf-made wine… hmm… I was meant to be giving that to Dumbledore for Christmas, but can't see the issue. What'll it be?"
"The wine, please!"
Apparently she gave her answer suspiciously quickly, earning herself a stare off everyone.
Tracey nodded identically, Harry gave in too. Horace cracked open the bottle and poured the liquid between five glasses, then spaced them out. Tracey took two and then settled down, far too comfortably, onto the arm of Ron's chair, handing him a glass. Harry looked between them and Daphne, a vague smile on his face.
"You're getting hooked on this stuff, I swear."
Daphne, who had been lifting the glass up to take a large sip, froze where she was.
"I do not!"
It happened at the exact moment that Daphne blinked. She had closed her eyes on a room full of people, and upon reopening them, found that something was terribly wrong. Their company had halved. Tracey and Ron had vanished - only, they hadn't, they were still here, only on the floor, and… and...
"TRACEY!"
"RON!"
Important A/N: Youtube is taking up a lot of time these days, I'm typically only completing these chapters the day that I am publishing them. As result, I've had to make the difficult decision to scrap the weekly upload schedule. The review count has dropped significantly and I'm not sure if that's reflective of readership or not. I will still see Daphne's story through to completion, but from now I'm setting a benchmark of ten reviews per upload before I begin work on the next (that's the best way I see of gaging viewership, anyhow). Doing this way means I'm not writing into the void, I don't have to sacrifice writing quality for the upload schedule and I'll receive all the correct kind of feedback from you lovely people. All that being said, hope you all understand and enjoyed this chapter, I'll see you soon!
