Nothing is mine.

Daphne smiles - plot twist, I know - and she even makes a joke, too.

The Snow Recommences

Above their heads, the ceiling of the Great Hall was blanketed by thick, grey clouds — all that distinctive, cold, still grey heralding heavy snow. Harry stared up at the first few huge white flakes as they fell, drifting down to dissipate around everyone's heads.

'Oi, Harry!' Seamus yelled from halfway along the table. 'Is that true?'

'Is what true?' he called.

'You're dating Greengrass?!'

'Not that I noticed,' Harry replied, turning to Ron and Hermione. 'Did I miss something? Other than anything that's been said so far at this weird afternoon assembly Umbridge has made us all go to instead of our penultimate lesson.'

'I wasn't here over Christmas,' Ron replied. 'No idea.'

'You missed Ron telling everyone you and Greengrass were dating before he went home,' Hermione said.

'Ronald, do you have something you would like to confess?'

A rather guilty expression crept across Ron's face. 'Look, I didn't say you were dating. I said you have a huge crush on her and she seems to like you, but she's weird, so it's hard to tell, and that you were going on a date to Hogsmeade.'

'She said it wasn't a date,' Harry replied. 'Ronald, you have betrayed me.'

'Hush,' Hermione hissed. 'Umbridge is standing up.'

'Horrifying,' Harry whispered. 'Does she also walk?'

'No, she's going to make an announcement, you idiot,' she retorted. 'We're probably about to find out she's interfering even more in our education.'

'Maybe she's finally firing Snape for being a vampire,' Harry suggested. 'Ronald, make up for your wicked betrayal and go up there and tell her Snape's a vampire, and immediate and decisive inquisitorial action is required before he starts drawing cartoons.'

'Not happening,' Ron replied.

Harry released a long sigh and shook his head. 'When will the betrayals end, Ronald? When will the betrayals end?'

Umbridge cleared her throat before the lectern. 'Welcome back, children; it's so lovely to see all your happy little faces here again.'

'Makes you feel really sorry for her children,' Harry said.

'She doesn't have any,' Hermione whispered. 'I researched her in the Daily Prophet article about her when she was promoted to Principal Undersecretary.'

'Why bother researching?' Ron asked. 'Nobody's shagging that.'

'Harsh but fair,' Harry said. 'She probably has the same bras as Lav does, though. All pink.'

'Urgh.'

'Will the two of you let me listen?' Hermione demanded. 'And stop talking about Lavender's underwear.'

Harry chuckled. 'We will when she stops showing us so much of it.'

'It's just the bras,' Ron said. 'She wears those, like, you know, kind of a bit see-through blouses, so—'

'I know!' Hermione snapped. 'I also have eyes and it's not like she's leaving much to the imagination.'

'Ron doesn't have any imagination,' Harry said. 'It's why he struggles with idioms so much.'

'Oi!' Ron objected.

Hermione glowered at the pair of them, one after the other.

Harry raised his hands in surrender.

'—in my role to safeguard and protect all of you from the dark, unsavoury practices you might otherwise be exposed to—' the light of the candles flickered on the silver rings adorning Umbridge's stubby fingers '—it has also come to my attention that some student-run clubs are continuing to meet without obtaining the requisite permission of myself as High Inquisitor. It is of the utmost importance that those involved in the running of these organisations come forward and remedy this situation to avoid… consequences. For those students that have just forgotten but come forward now, there will, provided the clubs prove to be of the right sort, of course, be no sanctions.' Umbridge stepped back and took her seat.

'She's after us,' Hermione whispered. 'She knows.'

'Most of our year goes to it,' Harry said. 'And a bunch of students from other years too.'

'She was always going to notice, Hermione.' Ron shrugged. 'Can't catch us, though, can she?'

A sharp tug came at Harry's sleeve. 'Ron,' he whispered, as loud as he could. 'Which one is it? The cute shy one with pretty eyes or the chilly one who lectures me about the world dying?'

Ron shuffled down the bench away from him, focusing very hard on his fingers.

'Well, I guess that answers that,' Harry said, battling the butterflies bursting from wherever it was they always seemed to be lying in ambush for him at inconvenient Daphne-related moments. 'Happy New Year, Greengrass?' He twisted around on the bench. 'Or should I say happy Winter…?'

Daphne's ice blue eyes were sharp and bright with fury behind that rogue lock of blonde hair.

'Hi, Greengrass.' The butterflies, who Harry had assumed might abandon him at the sight of her rage, fluttered themselves into a frenzy over how pretty she was when angry instead. 'You look… really angry, actually. I'm sure I haven't managed to do anything to annoy you since before Christmas.'

'Come with me,' she murmured, her tone as cool and soft as frosted grass. 'You owe me an explanation.'

'Ah.' Harry shot Ron a pointed look. 'I actually think that he owes you an explanation.'

'I am not asking him.' Daphne twisted on her heel and swept out into the corridor, skirting the group of Hufflepuff girls standing in the bright, clear winter sunlight pouring into the Great Hall.

Ron's neck and ears turned a bit red. 'Sorry, mate.'

'There will be consequences for your betrayals, Ronald. Great and devastating consequences.' Harry wagged his finger at him. 'Unless Greengrass murders me out there, then you'll get away scot-free.'

'What free?'

Hermione sighed. 'Idiom.'

'Not another one.'

'There are loads, Ron,' she said. 'This is just going to keep happening.'

'You mean, like, all the way through…?'

Hermione beamed. 'All the way.'

Ron screwed his face up in thought. 'How about you pipe down?'

'Close enough,' Harry said. 'Now, if Daphne does kill me, Hermione, I want you to make sure Ron feels guilty about it for at least a few years, because it's all his fault. And tell Voldemort he was outdone by a fifteen year-old girl, but do it from a safe distance because he isn't going to take it well.'

She sighed. 'Just go, before she gets any angrier and really does kill you.'

'I'm going,' he replied, swinging himself out of his seat. 'Just… slowly.' A few brave butterflies fluttered their way up onto the tip of his tongue. 'You'd think being rumoured to be secretly dating me wouldn't be that offensive.'

Hermione pursed her lips. 'I don't think it's that, Harry. It's probably her family. Remember how worried Astoria was about people thinking you two were dating?'

'Well, time to find out.' Harry swallowed the handful of butterflies that were a bit too excited at the threat of impending death and headed for the door. 'I'm going to get called a Blood-Traitor at least three times, I can feel it.'

Daphne stood between two gleaming suits of armour, her arms folded across her chest in much the same manner as they had theirs over their large swords; the little crimson crescent moon hung at her ear and a braid of bright red tulips tied all her blonde hair back into a neat ponytail. 'Potter.'

Harry, feeling at this point he might as well be in for a pound, stuck his nose in the air. 'Greengrass.'

'You told everyone we were going to Hogsmeade.' A little spark of anger flashed through the winter blue of her eyes and the fold of her arms tightened.

Harry tugged his eyes away from the way that pushed her chest up, straining the little white button of her blouse, and did his best to admire the ruby-red tulips of her hair tie. 'Ron told everyone. I said nothing.'

Daphne's eyes narrowed. 'What are you looking at? Look at me.'

'I am looking up here because it stops me looking at other things that I felt a bit unchivalrous looking at.' A little heat rushed to his face. 'Could you maybe unfold your arms a bit? At least a little; I'm worried you're about to lose a button. Why are you still in summer uniform, by the way?'

Colour blossomed across Daphne's cheeks as she glanced down. 'Oh. That.'

'You did previously object to buttons being undone,' Harry ventured, feeling like he was somehow tiptoeing across very thin ice. 'So I felt I should warn you, even if the result wouldn't be entirely unwelcome from my perspective.'

There was a wild spark in her blue eyes when she looked back up. 'So you told nobody.'

'Yeah, no.' Harry waved a hand. 'Everyone went home to get away from Umbridge. It was basically just Hermione and I left in the whole school, and she was rudely eavesdropping on our conversation the entire time anyway, so she already knew.'

'I do not want everyone to know that we are…' Daphne wrinkled her pretty nose and folded her arms across her chest, turned a little pink, then dropped them back to her side.

'Are…?'

'Are.' She turned away and stared across the corridor at the tapestry of goblins stabbing each other.

'Are… friends?'

'We are not.'

'Are too.' Harry laughed to himself as she twisted about with a little huff. 'You're meant to say am not.'

'Potter.'

'What?'

'You know what.'

He grinned back at her. 'Do I?'

'You are ridiculous,' Daphne murmured, but her eyes were all bright, soaring spring-sky blue behind that fluttering lock of blonde. 'We will go to Hogsmeade in a week, after all the rumours Weasley has stirred up have gone away.'

'So… not angry anymore?'

Her lips twitched.

'I'm taking that as a yes, that's about as close as you get to a smile.'

Daphne's mouth curved up into an impish grin and little dimples sprang up on her cheeks.

All the butterflies struck, flooding from wherever they had, rather unsportingly in Harry's opinion, been biding their time instead of standing their ground in any kind of fair fight, and swirling into a tight, trembling ball of tickling wings and legs within his stomach that swallowed any attempt at coherent thought.

'You can smile,' Harry blurted.

'Of course—' her dimples faded '—if you were actually funny, you might even see it happen.'

Harry laughed. 'I shall try to be funnier to see it more often then; it's a very nice smile.'

Daphne blinked; pink suffused her cheeks, rising up until the tips of her ears coloured. 'Thank you, Potter.' She hooked the rogue lock of blonde hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. 'Did you want to go back to the Great Hall?'

'I think we probably have to go to class, that whole assembly thing was meant to finish about now,' he said as students poured past their spot between the suits of armour. 'Not that I have any idea which class it is, I have come to realise that Hermione's oppressive tyranny at least means I never need to learn my timetable. Hopefully it's Potions, though, I wanted to try and brew Felix Felicis and see if drinking it will finally out Snape as the fanged, cartoon menace to black pudding that he truly is.'

'Felix Felicis is almost impossible to brew,' Daphne said. 'And we have History of Magic now, not Potions.'

'So… are we walking in the same direction?'

She glanced out the window at the sun. 'Yes. We are.'

'Oh no,' Harry whispered. 'The horror. People might see us and think we're talking.'

'I was going to suggest we could hold a conversation while we walked,' Daphne said, 'but clearly I overestimated you.'

'Everyone does,' he replied. 'I survive entirely based on luck and what Hermione described over Christmas as such a ridiculous lack of regard for my own safety it catches everyone by surprise.'

'Luck is the hand of destiny in play,' she murmured, drifting toward the stairs. 'The grace of fate should not be dismissed lightly, Harry. Not that Granger will ever want to understand that.'

'She hates Divination.' Harry chuckled as he matched her slow pace, skipping over the trick step. 'Hates it. I think because it's kind of soft and vague, it doesn't make neat sense to her, so she dislikes it.'

'It is high magic. Prof y Sidhe.' Daphne's blue eyes flashed with that fierce spark of yearning. 'Granger likes magic that comes with neat steps. Spells that do what she wants. Tools.'

'Don't you prefer it when things make sense?'

'But they do make sense,' she said, 'if you understand what magic really is; if you revere it as it ought to be. If you just see it as something for you to use, then of course you hate it when it does not do exactly what you want. But magic is not meant to do that; it comes with all the charm of mystery.'

Harry turned that over in his head as they wound through the younger students pouring toward the History of Magic corridor. 'She does revere it, in her own way. She loves magic.'

Daphne turned her pretty nose up. 'She comes from a world of mud and metal; anyone born expecting only iron and clay thinks simple spells are magical. But real magic, Harry—' the little spark burst into flame and burnt, burnt with a keen, sharp hunger that twisted his stomach into all sorts of strange and trembling knots '—real wonder, does not come from saying one word in butchered Latin, waving a wand, and making some small thing happen for your own benefit.'

'Where does it come from then?'

'Prof y Sidhe,' she murmured. 'Magic that lies beyond the grasp of any of us but Dwyr Sy'n Tystio. Not the little spells, not the tricks, not the ointments, incantations, runes, potions, charms, conjuring or even the greatest feats of alchemy. You will see.'

'You said we don't see it anymore because of Muggle-borns or something like that.'

The corner of Daphne's mouth curved up for a moment. 'We believe,' she whispered. 'And we hope. And one day he will come, to lead us into Winter and bring Spring.'

'Well, good luck?' Harry snorted. 'Unless it really is Voldemort, then I'm afraid I'm going to be on the other side, because there is no way he's saving anyone from anything. I know a monster when I see one.'

'No, Harry,' she whispered. 'I do not think you do.'

'Agree to disagree,' he said. 'By which I mean, I'm pretty sure I've seen more monsters than you, because you've probably not seen any. You only just got to this school, so your first monster sighting is going to be this year.'

Daphne's lips twitched and she paused at the door, cocking her head. 'Everyone is here.'

Harry chuckled. 'Oh no, they'll see us together. People might believe Ron's right all along. Your reputation is ruined.' He flashed her a grin, then paused. 'Wait, who cares about your reputation, you've been here like one term. I have a much more important reputation as not evil to keep up; I can't be seen with a Slytherin, everyone knows you're all at least mildly evil.'

'Ridiculous,' she murmured; a spark of laughter flitted through her blue eyes and the shadow of those pretty dimples hovered on her cheeks for a moment. 'You are ridiculous, Harry.'

'I'm also going in, so…' He stepped into the class.

The bright silver silhouette of Professor Binns froze, halfway through his habitual floating back and forth across the front of the classroom, and he swivelled around, staring, wide-eyed and silent, as he drifted back through the blackboard into the wall and vanished.

'And Those Who Dream in Death shall recognise his coming,' Daphne breathed, so close behind him the words she whispered tickled the back of his neck.

Harry cackled, buoyed on the bright mirth that bubbled up at hearing the same words Bellatrix had whispered with such reverence to Voldemort in the shadow of Azkaban aloud in the boring, bare classroom of Professor Binns. 'First a smile, now a joke, I knew you couldn't be entirely anti-social, Daphne.' He peered at the blackboard as everyone began to mutter amongst themselves. 'Do you think he's coming back?'

Daphne stared back at him; there was hope in her eyes, they shone with it, shone a bright, soaring spring-sky blue. The corner of her mouth crooked up into a small smile, turning everything inside Harry into a tingling, trembling mess of butterflies. 'We will see.'

And out the window, beyond the bare, winter branches of the Forbidden Forest, the sun set, sinking upon the cusp of dusk, all its crimson light bleeding out across the sky like the last gasp of a dying star.

AN: More via the linktree, lots and lots more!

: / / linktr . ee / mjbradley