They had collided in the hallway between classes.

Falling to the floor in a tangle of limbs and oomph's as heavy book laden bags spill across the stone.

Harry Potter hadn't been paying much attention to where he was going, too busy watching the mounting train-wreck of an argument between his two best friends as Ronald Weasley once again blamed Hermione Grangers cat for the disappearance of his rat. The young man wasn't even sure how this one started, but it had taken his whole attention and now he was feeling the cost.

Rubbing his sore behind where he'd landed roughly on his tailbone, he barely paid attention to the blond he'd bumped into other than offering a rushed apology before helping her gather her things. The girl looked as much in a hurry as he was, offering and heartfelt but equally rushed apology. When the last of the books were packed away, he'd only just realised he'd dropped his wand.

The tolling of the large bells that signalled the start of his next period had him rushing even more.

Collecting the wooden focus in a haze, he and his friends barely made it to their Defence class before the final ring of the bell. Finding their seats, Harry listened with half an ear to Remus Lupin, their new teacher this year (the best so far, but that hasn't stopped the joking bets between his friends how this one will try and kill him too), talks about the basics of duelling while he rolls his wand playfully between his fingers under the table.

Something about the wood felt… off.

He couldn't place it. Harry was about to glance at it when Professor Lupin instructed them to stand and line the walls as the tables moved on their own to stake in a corner. (The chairs not that far behind them.)

In no time at all, everyone was paired up with another student, this professor clearly having more brains than the others and not pairing many of the green-robed Slytherins with a red-robed Gryffindors. Little mercies, Harry mused to himself when he faced off against Lavander Brown who looked an odd mix of bored and concerned.

Not that surprising, the dirty-blond had never really been big into the defensive side of magic. While Harry had never really spoken to her, Lavander had always struck him as an artsy type of person from the few conversations he'd been forced to listen tooverheard in the common room.

Regardless, she took up a shaky dueller's stance and gave a shallow bow.

The stance and bow Harry gave was far more confident. While he had never duelled before (and no, that farce with Lockhart did not count) it just felt right to him. Wand in hand, he prepared for the start of the duel, but couldn't shake the wrongness he felt with his wand.

Had he damaged it in his tumble?

Good Merlin, he hoped not! Memories of what had happened with Ron's last wand after it had snapped the start of last year flashed through his mind and he mentally prepared to potentially be visiting the Matron spewing slugs.

Three.

Two.

One.

Professor Lupin announced the start and spells went flying. Harry had gone for a simple low strength stinging hex and the spell had gone off without a hitch. Lavinder yelped and dropped her wand when the hex hit her hand while he easily ducked away from whatever his opponent had launched at him.

For an outside observer it had seemed to go as intended.

For Harry, this was not the case.

Green eyes stared at the offending piece of wood in his hands. He knew why it had felt wrong in his hands. It was not his.

The warmth was there. It had worked perfectly. But it wasn't his. It just felt wrong despite it obeying his wish. He couldn't tell what wood it was made of, but it was a similar colour to his own and, when he had cast the hex, the magic within had a fire-y warmth to it.

And yet it was foreign all the same.

Dragon heartstring, maybe?

Dragons were creatures of fire as much as the Phoenix, and yet it was not a dragon-cored wand who had given its allegiance to him but a Phoenix. It was a strange feeling, examining the wand. It was as if the wand sang a song it longed for him to join. A song his own soul could find itself tapping away to the beat too but yet did not know the words to join.

The clearing of a throat behind him broke Harry from his musings. Turning, emerald eyes met icy blue, a head of honey blond hair he instantly recognised from earlier. The hormonal part of his thirteen-year-old teenaged brain instantly thought she was pretty. The socially awkward boy that had been locked in a cupboard most of his developmental years wanted to shy away from the way she was glaring at him.

"Err, hi?" he found himself stuttering.

"Potter," she said coldly. Harry tried to fish for a name, he'd seen her plenty over the past few years in classes that he should know her name, but the situation had his mind coming up blank. Something about a pretty girl staring daggers at him had him thinking about other more important things.

Like; "Oh no, what did I do?" and "Where's the nearest exit?" to even "Would she hold it against me if I asked her to Hogsmeade?". The last thought was stupid since there was apparently a crazed murderer after his bacon and he was technically barred from Hogsmeade this year, but he could dream.

The pair stood there staring at each other for a heartbeat that stretched for an eternity. It wasn't until he noticed that the newcomer wasn't so much staring at him but at what he was holding…

"Oh."

What else was he even meant to say? Sure, "sorry I picked up your wand," would probably be a good place to start. But wands were personal. There was apparently few things like the bond between magical and their wand. The wand, after all, chooses the wizard and it's a bond that grows with every charm, every transfiguration, every moment the focus is on your person the bond grows stronger.

You do not use someone else's wand!

And they had just used each other's. The strange thing for Harry though, was that it hadn't been bad. It had felt wrong, sure, but it hadn't felt bad.

Harry had once used Ron's wand. He couldn't remember why, but he could remember the feeling it had left him with. His friend's focus had barely responded to the incantation, and what little reaction it did offer was barely but a sputtering of sparks. The short of it was that the wand had pretty much refused to work for him.

In that moment, his mouth moved before his brain could stop it, "Did we just use each other's wand…?"

Something in the girl's face shifted. Surprise, maybe? "It worked for you?" she asked softly, little louder than a whisper, moving so close to him he could smell her shampoo. The startled teen could only nod as the pretty girl invaded his personal space. Blue eyes staring into his soul. She looked to be mulling something over in her head before pushing a length of wood into his hands, the familiar warmth of Phoenix fire heated his palm, before she took the other wand in his hand. Somehow he found himself missing the wrong-rightness of it, before she turned to stalk away to wherever she had come from on the other side of the room.

Two paces away, she stopped. Her shoulders were stiff her head moved from side to side with indecision before she turned and pointed at him. Something like embarrassment plaster her soft features as her cheeks heated. "You oh me a butterbeer!" she proclaimed, rather loudly in fact, across the short distance.

Harry was stunned into silence for a moment before he found his tongue. "But I can't leave the castle!" he stuttered dumbly. He didn't even know her name, but it sounded, and looked, like she was asking him out.

"I highly doubt that'd stop you, Harry." She scoffed before turning again and marching off into the surrounding crowd. The surrounding crowd that were all staring at him.

Oh no.

"Did Daphne Greengrass really just ask you out?" Lavinder's voice startled him as the room dissolved into whispers. His fellow Gryffindor stared between him and Daphne had been, she looked to be somewhere between disbelief and impressed at whatever had just happened.

"I… think she did?" he couldn't help but whisper. Well, now he had more reasons to break out the castle more often.

A/N

So... Hello again. I hope you're all well? Well this aint Fallout. Sorry 'bout that. The continuation of 'The Ministry' is still early days so it'll be a hot minute before that comes out. In fact, I have another 1-shot in the works that I fully expected to get out before this little drabble, but that one's still cooking.

This little thing was born from a Prompt on the Haphne discord server I just couldn't get out my head. Seriously, the thing was posted 2 days ago as of posting this drabble and I could not stop thinking about it. That's really annoying when you're at work. So, what do you do to get drabbles out your head? Well, you write them down of course! This took me an hour, if that, but I hope you enjoy! _

P.S. The ending was totally inspired by the ending of Fullmetal Alchemist. Go read that Manga and watch 'FMA:Brotherhood' if you haven't done either already!

Original prompt:
Harry accidentally bumps into Daphne in the hall and the contents of their bags both spill to the floor. As they scramble to apologize and pick everything up they end up accidentally swapping wands. Harry only realizes because the magic he casts from her wand feels comforting and right, not as good as his Holly wand but still great, different. Only after sharing this with Ron and Hermione does he realize how rare it is for that to happen, and he starts to wonder if Daphne felt the same way with his wand.