Acknowledgement—(1) All JKR, (2)All the time, (3)Many thanks! (4) Posted for enjoyment of readers only!

Do You Want to Talk?

A Harry Potter/Daphne Greengrass Short Story

By

Bfd1235813

Do you want to talk?"

"Not necessarily. It's nice, sitting here with you."

They sat quietly, watching the insects that hovered above the surface of Hogwarts School's lake.

Sitting there, watching Nature feed its fish on its insects, was a form of study that was certain to break down walls and instill unwelcome thoughts about just how much influence a random human had on their own life. Harry Potter saw the small bird dart into the mass, flare its wings and hover momentarily, then pluck its meal out of the air.

"Did you ever ask yourself, why one and not the other?"

He waited. Patient, not in a hurry.

"No!" she laughed. "Does a question like that even have an answer? There are a bunch of insects flying around and a bunch of hungry fish and birds swimming and flying around. How's that?"

"Maybe that is all there is to it," he said, not looking over at her, just staring out at the lake.

The surface was beginning to get a coating of dead and dying insects. He understood those that weren't gulped down by fish, frogs or some other water beast would become soaked and sink to the bottom.

"What does that say about us?"

"Meaning? You're awfully obscure right now."

"Maybe I am. Maybe, working through some unexpected insight. What do their lives mean?"

"Who are they?"

"Those flying things. Are those Mayflies? I never studied insects. To identify them, I mean."

"Some kind of Mayfly or other, I suppose. What difference does it make?"

"None, that I know of. I'm starting to think we are getting to watch a tiny bit our own story, acted out by our insect and fish friends. Nothing definite, yet. Just a flash of insight now and then."

"You're weird," she said, standing up. "I'm beginning to think something happened to you out there. Take some advice Harry. I mean only the best for you. Get hold of yourself. Come back to Earth."

"See you inside," he said as she walked off.

The fascination with the eternal drama of birth and death, maturation and transformation, feeding and being fed upon continued. The insects, Mayflies or whatever they were, did not have brain capacity to sufficient for contemplating the higher-level mysteries. That, at least was the prevailing theory. He wasn't aware of any opposing school of thought, muggle or magical. He'd found a short book, very easy to understand, on a shelf in a classroom at his muggle primary school. It gave capsule descriptions of various philosophical traditions. He remembered how reincarnation and the transmigration of souls figured in one belief system.

"I started right there," he said, startling himself with his own words.

"Could be," said a voice.

He turned, half stood and moved down the bench.

"Want to sit down?"

"Have you eaten?"

"No, just sitting here, trying to learn something. My appetite hasn't been right recently."

"Merlin, I wonder why? Nor mine, either," she admitted.

"How are you?"

She shrugged.

"Still. I don't know. Trying to make some sense of it."

"I can sympathize. Doubt if I'll ever understand."

"What's to understand? Didn't he want to kill you?"

"Yeah. He did that. No, what I mean is, I was in his power, more than once and he never hit me with an incarcerous. Immobilized, I could be banished to a place I'd never walk out of. Van Dieman's Land, say."

"The current name is Tasmania and there are ferries, I've heard. Maybe that would not have solved his problem. Permanently."

"You're probably right. I'm sitting here, studying. Those Mayflies are getting a lesson in permanent problem-solving."

"How'd you like to be a fish?"

"As opposed to…?"

"A Mayfly!"

He had to keep quiet while he thought that through. It didn't work, though, because he was forced to ask for clarification.

"I don't…I guess I don't get the question."

His tone sounded a bit apologetic, to her.

"Well, if you're a trout, let's say, you get over the winter when maybe you didn't get a lot to eat, then spring arrives and when the Mayfly larvae emerge as adults they come up to the surface and fly around. The trout will all get a good meal. Their bellies will be full for the first time in months. Full of what, though?"

He pondered.

"Flies."

"They must like them."

"Would you? I wouldn't. I'd do it, just to have something to eat but I'm certain I would not enjoy it."

"That's great. I'm going to think that over. Something is telling me you have given me some free insight into a basic truth. That may come from the heart of the Universe."

"No, you aren't hanging any revealed knowledge around my neck," she said. "Now that it appears we are out of the woods, at least the deepest, scariest part, I submit our generation needs to develop an allergy to that nonsense. Observable fact is what we want. If we stay out of those debates about Dark Lords and who has the divine right to order other people around, we might stand a chance of surviving for another generation."

He crossed his legs and wrapped his forearms around his knee. She thought he looked like he was getting comfortable and wondered how long he planned to stay out here. Even though it was May, the Sun had to set and the air was definitely cooling down. Was he getting a grin?

"What?" she demanded.

"I was pondering, whether your last statement is really longer than the total of all the words I've heard you speak since, well, since The Beginning of Time."

"Yeah. Not my fault. You could have spoken up."

"I only saw you with your nose pointed at an open textbook, sitting among a table chock-full of Slytherins or walking somewhere with Bulstrode, Parkinson, Davis or your sister. Sometimes all at once. Not encouraging atmospherics. Agreed?"

"Oh, I could have said something. That Weasley witch is well-known for getting downright nasty when she perceives her territory is being invaded."

"I don't think of myself as territory," he said. "Hers, nor anyone's."

"I'm not certain everyone has gotten the word," she said.

She wouldn't look over after that, sitting, instead, face turned toward the lake and the parables about life, death, creation and destruction on view, ready to instruct the seekers whose minds were ready. He, on the other hand, puzzled over her last comment. There was a rustling sound coming from the path.

"Harry?"

"Ginny. Did you eat?"

She didn't answer. perhaps she thought the pro forma question wasn't meant to be answered.

"Are you coming in?"

That was when she turned her head, just enough to look over at Daphne Greengrass, who was still sitting quietly on her end of the bench.

"Eventually," he said. "I don't feel like sleeping under the stars tonight."

"Well, get up and let's go."

"Sorry?"

"I said, get up and let's go."

It sounded firm, like a remonstrance.

"I'll be along. Sit down and watch the Mayflies."

"I am not sitting down with HER right there! How do you think that would look to anyone coming by?"

"Like some schoolmates were watching Nature together. What do you think of the trout perspective on Mayflies? Do you ever wonder if they even like them? I mean, they take all winter to get here, then the trout are expected to gorge on them. What if they eat them because the Mayflies are available but they don't really like them?"

"What I think is this: the Dark Lord cast something that hit you in the head and broke your brain! The whole bloody Great Hall is filled with people waiting for us to come to dinner and you're sitting, staring at the lake while Mayflies buzz around and die! Who gives a damn?"

"No, you're not seeing what I'm seeing. Maybe I didn't explain it very well. You see, there is a lesson right there, above the surface of the lake, a lesson about Life, Death, cycles. One piece of Nature feeding another piece of Nature. I can feel it, almost touch it, hold it in my hand. We'll get it if we just take our time and let it…"

"I'm going to dinner. Enjoy your quest for Wisdom."

It didn't sound like he was expected to respond. If he was, he couldn't find a place with enough traction to deliver a response.

"Mmm…" was all he said.

She turned to the school acquaintance who had not excused herself, sitting patiently throughout.

"You're welcome to him, Slytherin twat," she spat as she walked off.

"Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"What was that?"

"I'm guessing I just got dumped," he said. "She didn't really mean what she said about you. That was for my benefit."

"Certainly underlined it, from my perspective. Whether she aimed it at me, or not."

"I'm very sorry you were here to get exposed to that."

"I'll accept the apology, from you. Weasley will be required to do penance if she wants to get into my good graces."

He started to laugh at that. Greengrass was quite droll when she wished to be. He was sure neither of them would be able to construct a scenario wherein Ginevra Weasley would wish to be in Daphne (Slytherin twat) Greengrass's good graces.

"Walk?"

"Sure."

They stood.

"I don't feel much like eating, having just gotten dumped and all," he said.

"Want to talk?"

"Sure," he said.

"I would prefer if you ate something first, so I had confidence you were paying attention to keeping your strength up."

"If that is what you want."

"It is."

"Then I will do it."

They'd stopped just short of the entrance to the Great Hall. No one would see them from inside, where they were.

"If I went down to the kitchens after I finish eating, to beg some ice cream from the elves…"

"I could see having a bowl of ice cream, as something to work through during a conversation."

He grinned. They'd shuffled their way to the door. He had to cross the Hall to get to Gryffindor. The school saw the subdued smiles and quick flutters of two hands as they went their separate ways.

For the moment.