Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: I really need to start updating faster. Thanks to silentclock for helping me make this chapter look a bit better.

Chapter Twelve

A strong breeze whipped at Harry's cloak as he stepped on to Hogsmeade's main street. He tugged at the collar of his shirt and jogged along the dirt path towards the Three Broomsticks. It was the only pub in the village still open. A month ago, Aberforth Dumbledore had suddenly decided to retire. He hadn't opened the doors to the Hog's Head since, and was now trying to sell the pub.

The low buzz of conversation steadily became louder as Harry approached Madam Rosmerta's pub, yet the noise still made him pause in the doorway. It was hot, filled with pipe smoke, and the crowd was rowdy. The Wireless was playing a show called Quidditch Today, but it could hardly be heard over the guffaws and boisterous conversations.

As overcrowded as it was, it was a wonder he could see the bar through the throng of bodies. In an effort to get there, Harry squeezed his way through the smallest of openings, pushed aside a drunk teen, and stepped on an old man's foot, until there wasn't a gap left for him to fit through.

Harry stood on his toes and craned his neck to look over a wizard's pointed hat, surveying the room, but it was simply too busy to spot a familiar face. He stepped past a dawdling middle-aged man, getting another foot closer to the bar. He wasn't too far away now. Rosmerta had hired help for the day, as she always did when it was sure to be crammed full of customers. But even with her young niece and the gangly teenaged boy providing extra hands, the line didn't seem to be moving.

Then he saw her. Daphne was sitting at the bar, sipping a bottle of lager. She'd changed the colour of her hair to a chestnut-brown, the sleeves of her green jumper were rolled back to her elbows, and she was laughing at him. He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the protests. The barstool she was sitting on put them at eye level.

"You're hilarious when you think no one's watching you," Daphne said with a wide smile. "Especially when you start getting agitated and pull faces."

"I don't pull faces," Harry said, desperately trying to keep his expression neutral.

"You do when you're annoyed." Daphne swirled the bottle of lager and tipped it back, draining the last few drops. "See," she said, pointing the bottle at him, "you're frowning now. You just can't help it."

"Yes, well, at least I hide my emotions better than I used to," Harry said, unsure what to think when Daphne burst out laughing, so he ignored her and rooted around inside his pocket. He finally picked out a Galleon, which he passed to her. "I'll have whatever you're having."

Daphne took the coin and swivelled on her stool. She leaned over the bar, instantly capturing the gangly boy's attention. He dashed over to her, completely ignoring the other waiting customers, who looked murderous. He fidgeted with his tie when Daphne spoke to him, and rushed away to collect her order. He was back within thirty seconds, placing drinks on the bar and waving away her attempts to pay.

"I work here," he said, puffing out his chest. "These are on me."

Daphne hesitated for a moment, before shrugging. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, um, Stephen, is it?"

"You can call me Steve," Stephen said, before sliding down the bar to serve another woman.

It was too much for Harry to take – he laughed uproariously. As famous as he was, he'd never been served that fast in his life.

Daphne spun back around and handed Harry a bottle. "What's got you so tickled?"

Harry chortled into his beer. "I think you've found yourself an admirer in Stephen."

Daphne's lips twitched. "Do you really want to go down that road, Harry?" she said pointedly, and Harry soon shut up. "That's what I thought."

Harry grumbled, which only made her laugh harder.

"Anyway," she said. "I hear congratulations are in order, aren't they?"

Harry raised a challenging eyebrow. "If you can tell me what the score was, I'll forget all about my money you just pocketed." His words caused a hint of embarrassment to colour Daphne's cheeks. "In fact," he said, full of confidence, "I'll even buy your drinks for the rest of the night. Unless Stephen continues buying, of course."

Harry found it was impossible to avert his eyes when Daphne bit her bottom lip. He'd forgotten she liked to do that. It made his jaw ache and his muscles reflexively tense.

"At least tell me you listened?"

"I didn't have much choice," Daphne muttered. "Madam Pomfrey put the Wireless on. It was the only way to get the kids to shut up." She scowled and explained, "Ellie Jenkins managed to blow up another potion, so the whole fourth year class was sent to us. I swear she's worse than Longbottom ever was. They weren't too happy they were missing the Quidditch party, so we had to let them listen in the infirmary." Daphne grinned slyly. "Ellie is quite a fan of yours. She and her friends couldn't stop talking about your dreamy eyes. Poppy stepped in when they started talking about how well you handled your broomstick."

Harry grimaced. It was flattering when attractive women complimented him, but downright creepy when young girls said such things.

"Did you really have to tell me that?" Harry asked, ruefully shaking his head. Daphne shrugged and popped the end of a liquorice wand in her mouth. She offered the pack to Harry and he took one. "Maybe we should turn our hands to matchmaking," he said, and gestured to Stephen. "I'm sure they'd make quite the couple."

"I'm not sure I could unleash her on the poor sod," Daphne said, grimacing. "She giggles more than Lavender Brown ever did and she's twice as loud."

Their bottles of lager were soon empty, prompting Daphne to order pints instead. At breakneck speed, Stephen was pouring the drinks. It was only then he noticed Harry, and he gave him a filthy look.

"Thanks for the free drink," Harry said.

Oddly enough, this time Stephen didn't offer to pay.

The barstool next to Daphne was vacated by an old man, who leaned heavily on a walking stick as he hobbled away. Harry shrugged out of his coat and scarf, plonked down on the seat, and took a large gulp of the refreshing pint of beer.

"So tell me," he said. "What made you decide to become a healer? The way you talk about it, you sound like you can't stand it."

Daphne paused mid-sip, swallowed, and placed her drink on the bar. "Well, my mum was a healer. She retired the day she found out she was pregnant with me. She taught Astoria and me the basics a few years ago, and I've never thought of doing anything else. I suppose I'm better at healing people than anything else. I have a knack for the magic involved."

Harry thought back to his days in school. "If I remember correctly, you were always one of the best in Potions and Charms. Better than me in Potions, but that's not saying much. I was bloody crap at it."

"It's very hard to be bad in Potions when you're in Slytherin." Daphne shrugged dismissively. "Only Crabbe and Goyle failed."

"I haven't got a clue how I managed to pass," Harry admitted, still feeling quite bewildered all these months later. "Snape still thinks I cheated."

"Well, you're Harry Potter." Daphne smiled teasingly. "Aren't you supposed to be the next coming of Merlin, capable of smiting your enemies with a single glance? A silly little potion is nothing for you."

Harry laughed, somewhat embarrassed that some people actually believed that about him. "Try to keep it a secret, won't you? I don't want everyone to know."

"You are good at magic though, whereas I'm … not as good." She scrunched up her nose. "I was downright awful at Transfiguration. How I managed to get an E in my N.E.W.T.s, I'll never know." She looked as confused as Harry did when he thought about his Potions exam. "I did get one O, though," she said brightly. "Charms was always my favourite."

"Aha, my second favourite subject," Harry said.

"Let me guess – your favourite was Defence?"

"How could it not be?"

The volume on the Wireless was raised and a new song by the Biting Fairies blasted out. From what Harry could gather, the song was about a tsunami and water nymphs.

Harry leaned towards Daphne and raised his voice. "Are you staying at Hogwarts after this year?"

Daphne shook her head, sending a few stray strands of hair away from her eyes. "Poppy can only teach me so much, so I'll be going to St. Mungo's in August."

"So you won't be treating me next season." The thought made Harry feel uneasy. Being stuck in a hospital bed was infinitely more tolerable when Daphne treated him. He was sure the current Hogwarts students thought the same. The girls had someone around their own age to confide in, and the boys had a pretty healer to gawk at.

"Give me two years and you can hire me as your personal Healer," Daphne said with a grin. "Although I imagine my hands would be full trying to keep you alive."

"At least you'd be well paid," Harry said. "Speaking of injuries..." He tapped the side of his nose. "I broke this today."

Daphne leant forward to examine him. "Poppy was convinced she'd be looking after you tonight, but I told her you'd be able handle Chudley." She prodded his nose with the tip of her finger, producing a wince from him. "Even I know they're the worst team in the world, yet you still managed to hurt yourself."

"I still caught this though, didn't I?" Harry said triumphantly. He scooped up the Snitch from his pocket and held it up at eye-level.

"That doesn't explain how your nose was broken." Daphne placed her hand on the Snitch and lowered Harry's hand. "And you'd best put that away before someone correctly assumes you're showing off."

Harry shoved the Snitch back in his pocket and tried not to scowl. "Gudgeon, their Seeker, elbowed me when he knew he was about to lose. So it really wasn't my fault this time, see? He's just a sore loser and he took it out on my poor snout."

Daphne's lips twitched. "You're such an idiot, Harry."

"Yes, well, I'm the idiot who's buying you another drink, so get them in," Harry said, and he dug deeper into his pockets to find more change.

Daphne turned her head towards Stephen and only raised her hand in a slight wave, but it was enough to attract his attention. She lifted up the empty glasses and shook them from side to side, indicating she wanted the same again.

She looked back at Harry while she waited for the drinks to arrive. "You really should try to look after yourself, or you'll end up doing some serious damage one day."

"When that day comes, I know you'll be there to fix me up." Harry handed over another Galleon and took his new pint of beer.

"I'm serious, Harry!"

Harry laughed at her indignant tone. "It's not like I go out to injure myself. It just happens."

"I always hated watching you fly," Daphne admitted. "You always look like you're on the verge of crashing."

"But the point is I never actually crash."

"Bullshit."

"It's not," Harry said adamantly. "It's the players on the other team that injure me." He jabbed his thumb into his chest. "I've never crashed."

From the corner of his eye, Harry spotted a table full of glasses being upturned. The sound of shattering glass brought the pub to silence – apart from the furious music on the Wireless – and everyone turned to watch the ensuing ruckus. Two men, unaware of their audience, were fighting furiously. At least that was what Harry assumed, because otherwise they were sharing a passionate kiss.

Madam Rosmerta was around the other side of the bar in an instant, wand out and at the ready. A bang erupted, making everyone flinch, and the two men leapt apart. They sported split lips, black eyes, and rosy cheeks, which only got rosier as they noticed their audience.

"You know the rules, boys," Madam Rosmerta said calmly. She gestured towards the door with her wand. "Out now, and don't come back for six months."

The two men sheepishly stumbled out of the front door with their tails between their legs. With the action over, everyone turned back to what they were doing. New conversations sprang to life all around the pub, with things going back to normal within moments.

"Well that was entertaining," Harry said. He'd forgotten what they'd been talking about. "Anyway, how come you're here all by your lonesome? Or are you waiting for someone to show up? A boyfriend, perhaps?"

Daphne looked at him curiously. "I could ask you the same question."

"And I'll answer honestly," Harry said. "No, I don't have a boyfriend."

Daphne snorted. "Aw, don't lose all hope. I'm sure the right guy is out there somewhere." She chortled at the look on his face. "You never know, he might be heading your way at this very moment."

Harry's complexion turned green. "That's not very funny."

"And here he is now," Daphne muttered.

"Who might be heading your way?" Seamus asked, grinning for ear to ear as he clapped Harry on the back, nearly knocking him off the stool.

"We were just talking about Harry's love life," Daphne said.

Harry shrugged at the look Seamus gave him. "She hasn't admitted it, but I think her boyfriend's stood her up."

Daphne sighed. "He hasn't stood me up because I'm not meeting him tonight."

"Don't tell me you're sick of him already?" Harry asked.

"It's only been a month, Harry."

"He's sick of you already, then? Are you that bad of a girlfriend?"

Daphne narrowed her eyes at him. "If you weren't famous, you'd never get a girl into bed."

"Sure I would. I'd have you."

She gave him a curious look. "Oh really? And how would you go about getting me?"

"I'd offer to buy you another beer for a start."

"Get me drunk and hope I'd agree to go home with you?"

"Something like that," Harry agreed with a laugh.

Seamus looked back and forth between them and shook his head. "Unbelievable," he muttered.

Harry ignored him and took out his wand, placing the tip on the beermat. It jumped up onto its side and started to spin, rapidly picking up speed.

"What are you doing?" Daphne asked.

Seamus shook his head again, groaning. "He's being a smarmy twat."

"Just watch," Harry said, grinning. "Seamus is just jealous because he's always been crap at transfiguration."

The beermat was a blur as it spun in mid-air, slowly morphing into a ball as its colour changed from black to red. Harry thought he'd built the suspense long enough. He gave his wand a jaunty flick and the beermat successfully transfigured into a long-stemmed red rose.

He picked it up and handed it to Daphne. "If you still wouldn't go home with me, even if you were drunk, I'd do something really cheesy like that. I'd smile like this," he said, smiling wide, "and ask if a girl like you would go out with a boy like me."

Seamus was staring at him, his face a picture of disgust, as though Harry had just confessed his undying love for Draco Malfoy. "I need another beer, and you'd better never do that seriously or I swear, I'll never speak to you again."

Daphne stared at the rose, then at Harry, and then laughed hysterically. "Oh, Harry, that's awful," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. She picked up the rose, inspecting it. "Although it is very nice, I'd definitely decline your offer if you did that."

"The worst part is, he's done it before," Seamus said. His lip curled. "Bastard got the girl, too."

"Ask Seamus to try it," Harry said smugly. "Watch as it blows up in his face. It's always fun to see him get slapped."

Daphne was about to ask him, but Seamus loudly talked over her. "So this is where you've been while we've been waiting for you? Chatting up Greengrass while your girlfriend won't stop complaining to us."

"Tone it down a bit, mate." Harry rolled his eyes. "I lost track of time, and she's not my girlfriend."

"Well, girlfriend, friend with benefits, or whatever she is, she's been nagging my ear off asking where you are," Seamus said. He waved his hand to attract Rosmerta's attention, but she completely ignored him. "She's been doing my head in, Potter. Just get over there so she shuts up."

"All right. Grab me a beer and I'll come over with you," Harry said. He turned to Daphne. "Fancy tagging along with us?"

Daphne eyed her drink and grimaced. "I think I'll call it a night. I only came in here for one, but then you started buying my drinks."

"Lightweight," Seamus muttered.

"Alcoholic," Daphne immediately shot back. She put her glass on the bar, stood up, and put on her cloak.

"Do you live near here, then?" Harry asked curiously.

"Right here in Hogsmeade," Daphne said. She buttoned up her coat and put on a fluffy green hat. "My parents own a cottage and gave it to me while I'm working at the school."

"I'll walk you home," Harry offered, and he put on his own cloak. "I fancy some fresh air. I'll have that beer when I'm back, Seamus."

"You'd best hurry up, then," Seamus said. He reached out and pulled Harry back. "What the hell's going on with you two?" he muttered.

"Nothing," Harry said. "We're friends."

Seamus huffed and turned back to the bar, finally getting served.

The temperature had continued to drop as night had fallen. Harry covered himself and Daphne with a warming charm, and the cold wind turned into a warm breeze. As they walked past Zonko's joke shop, Daphne mentioned her father.

"Did I ever tell you dad was a broom maker?"

"Not in detail."

"He started out as a test flyer for Comet when he was seventeen, but made brooms for most of his career," Daphne said. "He eventually ended up as a designer. The last broom he helped create was the Nimbus 2000. It was the most popular broom at the time and he retired afterwards."

"Don't blame him," Harry said. The man must have earned his fair share of Galleons. The Nimbus 2000 had remained the most popular broom in production, even when the 2001 model came out, until the Firebolt had stolen everyone's imagination.

"I have a feeling you'll get along if you ever meet him," Daphne said dryly.

She led the way into an alley he'd never been down before. It opened out into a circle patch of grass and flowers, with white marble statues placed in the centre. Six cottages surrounded it, all packed quite close together, yet still separated by tall hedgerows.

"The Hogwarts Founders," Daphne said upon spotting Harry's curious gaze on the statues.

"I reckon the one with the gormless look on his face is Salazar, don't you?"

"Remember who you're talking to," Daphne said, indignant. "I am a member of his House."

"Don't worry," Harry said, frowning. "Godric looks two Knuts short of a Sickle as well."

They walked around the circle and eventually stopped opposite the alley they'd come from. Daphne placed a hand on a wooden gate. The roof of the cottage was thatched, and the front door was blue.

"I'd best let you go in," Harry said. "I'm freezing my nuts off out here, even with this warming charm."

Daphne snorted. "Eloquent as ever, Harry."

They said their goodbyes and Harry made his way back to The Three Broomsticks. He made a mental note to meet Daphne's father one day, as he'd often wondered about the process involved in creating broomsticks. Graham Hunter, the journalist who had interviewed Harry, had mentioned something about it. Now that Harry was playing professionally, there was a high chance he would be asked to take part in testing brooms. Ackerley, as well a number of other professionals, often offered their expertise to help companies. Krum had been one of the first professionals to fly the Firebolt before it was available to the public.

When Harry arrived at the pub, he found Fred and George huddled together outside, speaking in low voices. He hesitated for only a moment before walking up to them.

"What's wrong with you two?"

The twins whirled around, eyes wide and lips already forming an excuse. As soon as they realised who it was their eyes lit up.

"Thank Merlin you're here," Fred said. He grabbed Harry by the elbow and strode into the alleyway beside the pub.

"What's going on?" Harry hissed, freeing himself from Fred's strong grip.

Fred shushed him. "Oi, George, put up a charm," he ordered, and his twin silenced the area around all three of them. Fred turned back to Harry and started to chuckle. "Oh, Harry. You're such an idiot."

Harry raised his eyebrows. He hadn't expected that, but he'd been called far worse. "Why's that?"

"We just met your girlfriend," Fred said, his laughter subsiding to his usual grin.

"And that's funny and makes me an idiot because…?" Harry asked, not getting the joke. "She's not my girlfriend, by the way."

Fred looked at him like he thought he was stupid. "You're sleeping with her, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah." Now that Harry thought about it, they hadn't done much else.

"And you haven't got a clue who she is?" Fred asked.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but at George's snort he shut up. He really didn't know her that well.

"I haven't known her very long," Harry said, feeling the need to defend himself, but he wasn't quite sure what it was he was defending. "Hell, I've only seen her a few times."

"Why don't I enlighten you, Harry?" Fred said. He looked smug, which wasn't a good sign. "The girl who you've got to play with your little pecker also happens to be Andrew Merton's little sister."

"Bullshit," Harry said immediately. He shook his head resolutely. "Her name's Clark, not Merton. Stop fucking with me."

An eruption of laughter wasn't what Harry expected. It worried him. Fred and George usually didn't laugh when they were pranking someone; they tried to keep straight faces for as long as possible, even when it was obvious they'd been caught out and the jig was up.

"You hear that, George?" Fred said. "He doesn't believe us." He turned back to Harry. "Now, before you start cracking me up again, listen while I attempt to be serious. The girl you're fucking is the sister of our teammate. You've already tried to get into his fiancé's knickers, and you've now succeeded at getting into his sister's. Merton might not make a big deal out of it. He's a decent chap, as you know, but this might be a bit too much for him to take."

Fred might as well have punched Harry right in the gut.

"But her name's Clark…"

"She's his half-sister, you nitwit," Fred said, looking like he wanted to give Harry a good shaking.

George made a high-pitched whistle. "Oi, we've got company." He walked out of their hiding spot with his arms wide in greeting. "Anna! How lovely to see you out here."

Harry stood rooted to the spot. He felt like a first year all over again, with no clue how to talk to girls. He hadn't gotten all that good at it since. He'd only ever had one serious girlfriend, and she was the one who had ended their relationship.

When Anna walked around the corner, Harry decided then and there that he wouldn't be getting into another relationship any time soon. He couldn't even remember getting into one with Anna, but judging by her stormy expression, his denials had been in vain. Maybe this was what Hermione had meant when she said that using his fame would come back to haunt him

Anna came to a stop in front of him, crossing her arms over her midsection. "Where have you been?"

Her tone was quiet but accusatory.

"I just took a friend home," Harry said.

Fred, who was still standing next to him, gave an exaggerated wince and strolled away.

"Who is she?" Anna asked.

"Her name's Daphne," Harry said. Perhaps spending all night with another girl wasn't the best of ideas. "She was a year below you, in Slytherin."

Anna closed her eyes. "Yeah, I know who she is," she said, her voice catching in her throat.

Harry hesitated. "Are you okay?"

It was the wrong thing to say. Anna's lips thinned and her jaw set. She opened her eyes and looked at him like it was the first time she'd truly seen him.

"Are you sleeping with her?"

"Nope," Harry said.

"But she's trying to sleep with you," Anna said.

"She's not," Harry denied. Despite all the flirting that passed between them, stupid or not, it had always been harmless. It was never going anywhere or leading to anything. "Besides, she's got a boyfriend. She told me earlier."

"And you believe her?" Anna asked incredulously, gaining more confidence. "You're not going to apologise, are you?"

"Um… for what?" Harry knew he wasn't the brightest bloke around, but he wasn't about to apologise for cheating when he hadn't actually cheated. "I am sorry for ignoring you all night, although I didn't mean to." By the look on Anna's face, she was either going to slap him or give him a swift kick in the balls. "What I mean is, Daphne's just a friend I haven't seen in a few months. When I came in I saw her at the bar. We got chatting and I lost track of time."

"Oh, of course." Anna shook her head. "That's fine, then. I don't mind you leaving me to talk to a girl, completely forgetting all about me."

"I forgot everyone else as well," Harry mumbled. He'd never seen her get so worked up or so angry at anyone.

"Do you like her?" Anna demanded. "Can you honestly say you would turn her down if she came on to you?"

Harry couldn't be bothered to deny it, but there was no point in being hurtful. "No, I can't, unless I had a girlfriend." He wondered when he'd grown up, even if it hadn't been by much. He never would have added the last part before.

Anna sighed and dropped her head into her hands. "You know what, Harry? I can't be bothered with this anymore. You obviously don't care about me."

Without waiting for him to say anything, Anna walked away with her head held high. Harry watched her leave. Perhaps she expected him to call after her, to try and persuade her that he wanted her, but he didn't. He let her go. After a minute of staring at the spot where she'd stood, he decided he needed to get horrendously drunk. He strode back into the pub and sought out his friends. The crowd had dispersed somewhat, but it was still crowded. Nevertheless, he found his friends and immediately gulped down half a pint. Perhaps it wasn't the best way to deal with it, but he was here now, and when in Rome…

Seamus shook his head and grabbed his pint back. "At least you've learnt a valuable lesson from all of this, Potter."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

Seamus smirked. "You should've left her to me."

Harry heartily agreed. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of raucous laughter. Halfway through the night, Seamus had left to use the toilet and he'd never come back. Sirius had done exactly the same an hour later.

By the time Rosmerta ordered everyone to leave, Harry was the last of his group left. Dean had just stumbled through the fireplace, muttering something about how Susan was going to kill him. What had started as a celebration had left him moping in the back of the pub, horribly drunk.

Harry gripped the table as he stood up on wobbly legs, but he managed to make his way outside. Frost was starting to form on the ground. He didn't know whether it was because he was drunk or because he was still protected by the warming charm, but he could hardly feel the cold.

Just as he was about to apparate home, his stomach grumbled in protest. Harry listened to what his body was telling him. He wasn't sure he'd make it home without leaving his legs behind. He briefly thought of calling the Knight Bus, until he remembered how violently it was driven. He could hardly keep his balance while standing on the spot.

Harry looked left, then right, and left again. The alleyway he'd walked down earlier in the night caught his eye and, without really thinking, he starting walking in that direction again. He laughed loudly at the statue of Salazar Slytherin as he made his way around the circle. He eyed the colour of the doors until he found the one that was blue. He pushed open the gate, which creaked, and didn't hesitate until his fist was raised, ready to knock on the door. He looked at his watch but it was too dark to make out the time. He reasoned with himself that it couldn't be too late, so he knocked.

There was no answer, so he knocked again, harder this time. He waited for an answer, and was about to leave, when the door opened.

Daphne was standing there in a vest and a pair of shorts, holding a candle and gaping at him. "What the hell are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?"

"I'm sorry if I woke you." Harry was suddenly aware of the state he was in. He was leaning on the doorframe so he wouldn't fall over. "I, uh, need somewhere to stay. Can't apparate."

Daphne stared at him for a long moment, before she stepped back and let him stumble inside. She guided him to the sofa, which he nearly collapsed onto. She flicked her wand at the fire, which roared to life, and then she blew out the candle and sat beside him. The sudden light made Harry grimace. It showed off his red-rimmed eyes and five o'clock shadow.

"So, are you going to explain what you're doing at my house in the middle of the night?" Daphne asked. She didn't seem angry, but worried.

"Drank too much and I don't think I can get home," Harry said.

"Well, if you're happy sleeping where you are, you're welcome to," Daphne said. "I'm afraid I've only got the one bedroom. This place isn't very big."

"I'm more than happy, thanks," Harry said. He shrugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, and sighed into the back of the cushions. "Sorry to be so rude."

Daphne waved away his apology. "Is everything all right? Apart from being stupidly drunk I mean."

Harry was determined to say he was fine, but he didn't. Maybe it was because Daphne grabbed his hand and was looking at him with green eyes full of worry, or maybe it was because he was drunk, but he started speaking and found he couldn't stop.

"I think I'm about to lose one of the best things that's ever happened to me, all because I slept with Anna, who isn't my girlfriend." The words spewed out of his mouth. "She broke things off tonight because I ignored her and she thinks I cheated on her with you. I found out she's Merton's sister, so he'll try to kill me, which means… Oh, I sound really fucking stupid and whiny right now."

Daphne nodded heartily. "Yeah, you do," she said. "But you're very drunk and probably won't remember this in the morning."

Harry started to nod uncontrollably and his eyes started to close with the steady rhythm. "Maybe. This couch is really comfortable."

"I'm glad you like it," Daphne said.

"Me too. I'm the one who's sleeping on it."

"Well, why don't you do that and we'll have this conversation in the morning?"

Daphne's suggestion sounded rather good to Harry. He unbuttoned his shirt and took off his socks, and sighed again. "Thanks again for letting me stay."

"I'm sure you'd do the same for me, Harry." Daphne waved her wand and summoned a blanket, which flew down the stairs. Two pillows followed, which she placed against the arm of the couch. "There. If you need anything, help yourself. Bathroom is up the stairs on the right, and the kitchen is right behind you. Please don't try cooking anything and burn the place down."

"Don't worry, I'm not a maniac," Harry said, and failed to stifle a yawn. "I'm too tired to eat."

Harry watched her walk up the stairs, but pause on the last step, and she turned to look at him.

"I'll see you in the morning, Harry. Sleep well."

"Good night."