Hi everybody! This is probably the longest piece I've ever written. Hmm, I'm starting to like Daphne/Anthony! I wrote this for the Rare Pairings challenge, and the Muggle Studies: Challenge/Competition.
"And then," Pansy shrieked, "He kissed my cheek! Isn't that soooo romantic?" The rest of Pansy's clique nodded and told her how lucky she was, and how handsome Zabini was, and how he had the mysterious aura, which totally made up for Draco dumping her. Daphne, however, sighed. She was bored. Unlike Hestia Carrow, who was hanging on to Pansy's every word; she couldn't care less about Pansy's latest consort. After Draco ran off to join the Death Eaters, Pansy had dated every Slytherin boy there was to prove that she was better off without him. Personally, Daphne disagreed. Pansy was nothing without the powerful presence of Draco; no matter how many times Blaise kissed her. In fact, the only reason she even hung out with Pansy was her mother.
Rhea Greengrass, in no other way to say it, was a social butterfly. She was "very well connected" and knew every prominent pureblood there was. According to her, Peony Parkinson, Pansy's mom, was very important and if Astoria refused to date Heath Parkinson, Pansy's younger brother, Daphne had to be best friends with Pansy. Of course, Daphne would much rather be in the library then in Pansy's presence, but she understood Astoria's plight. Heath Parkinson was the shape, color and brain-type of your average coconut, and Astoria wanted someone tall, thin, blonde, and intelligent. Daphne wasn't much for matchmaking, but that rather sounded like Draco Malfoy. In a way, they were good for each other. Astoria could give him some childlike innocence, and he could teach her the ways of the world.
She sighed; she'd obviously been spending way too much time with Pansy. 'Teach her the ways of the world?' She was starting to sound like the cheap romance novels Astoria secretly read. Another reason Astoria was better than Pansy for Draco; she doubted Pansy could read. She gave a disgusted sigh. It was saying a lot if her sister, 14 and three years their junior was better for Draco then Pansy Parkinson.
Flora Carrow, who was slightly smarter then her twin, noticed her frequent sighs and shrieked to the others, "Hey everybody, don't you think that Daphne looks a bit sad? I think she's secretly pining after Zabini!"
All of the other girls started giggling, and Pansy stood up, furious. "You think you can have him? Well Blaise and I are forever, and you aren't going to change that!"
Daphne calmly replied, "Well does he know that you're 'forever'? Because I could have sworn I saw Zabini in a broom closet with Parvati Patil this morning."
The girls giggled at this new development in the social hierarchy and Pansy flushed, "How dare you!"
Daphne smirked, she knew Pansy was dumb, but 'How dare you!' was an entirely different level of stupid. "Nice comeback." She stood up and started walking away, knowing just what to say as a closing line to get Pansy worked up. "You know what? This is getting boring, I think I'll go snog Blaise now." As she walked away towards the library, she heard a shriek of rage and felt a wave of vindictive pleasure. Her mother couldn't tell her to apologize or punish her for ruining the friendship anymore, she was legally an adult, and Rhea Greengrass no longer had any control over her.
Still grinning to herself about being free of Miss Moronic, she bumped into a small person, probably a first year. She looked down and saw Professor Flitwick. Her good mood (or rather, slightly more favorable mood then usual) lessened slightly when she saw him. She never liked Filius Flitwick. He was a bit of a Muggle lover, and while she wasn't as prejudiced as others in Slytherin, in fact, she had little opinion on the matter; some lessons from earlier in her life had stuck in her brain.
But he was talking now, and she had to pay attention, or at least appear that way, if she wanted an O on her N.E.W.T.s (N.E.W.T.s didn't matter as much, with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in power, but she wanted to be prepared, in case Harry Potter did defeat You-Know-Who.) He nodded, as if he'd said something important, and she grinned and nodded like The Minister himself was there. "So, Miss Greengrass, run along and get your muggle clothes for class now!"
She did a double take, muggle clothes? But she couldn't just ask about them, then he'd figure out she wasn't listening. Then she got an idea. She'd turn her confusion on him like a true Slytherin and pretend like he was the one who hadn't been paying attention. "I think you misunderstood me, Professor. I don't have any muggle clothes, remember?"
He grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet. "Then find your wizarding ones closest to Muggle-wear and we'll transfigure them!" he squeaked happily.
She inwardly rolled her eyes. Wasn't he supposed to have been a Ravenclaw? How could he be so cheerful when there were known Death Eaters in the school? It wasn't exactly wise. Due to his cheerfulness, muggle-loving and being a suspected half-breed, he'd probably be top on their list! But she smiled along and pretended to agree with him. "Okay, Professor, I'll go do that." He beamed, and she walked back towards the Common Room, away from the Library, and back towards Miss Moronic and her giggling girlfriends.
She walked into the dorm and all conversation stopped. She practically laughed out loud when she saw the girls' faces. The first years looked nervous and one squeaked when she stepped close to her (that, she was unashamed to say, she did snicker at). When she got to her suitcase, she had an idea. She picked out a skimpy top that her mother had bought her (she never touched it) and an outrageously short skirt that her French aunt (who she suspected was part Veela) had sent (also untouched). She bit her lip, trying to give the impression of contemplation. Finally she smiled, shoved it in her bag and said, (quite louder then necessary) "Yes. I think Blaise will like it." She heard a gasp and smirked. It had hit the mark. Pansy stood up and for the second time that day, said, "How dare you!"
Daphne rolled her eyes. "Please don't repeat that, Parkinson. I think my IQ's dropped enough as it is, after spending so much time with you." Not waiting to hear the resulting shriek of 'How dare you!' she headed to Charms.
*O*O*O*
She walked into the Charms classroom and stopped, her mouth dropping. The desks had been rearranged to create little alcoves, and a huge banner hung over Professor Flitwick's desk that read HAPPY CHARM SCHOOL DAY! She would have stood there for the rest of the day, wondering how on earth Flitwick had gotten into Ravenclaw, if she hadn't heard a dry voice say, "The idea that someone would willingly support muggles may be difficult for you to comprehend, being a Slytherin, but some of us actually want to see what Professor Flitwick's come up with."
Without turning around (or moving out of the doorway), she replied tartly, "Well your discovery is just going to have to wait, isn't it? Because I will be here until I figure out why Snape's keeping Flitwick on as a teacher, and that may take a while."
"Yes, with you being a Slytherin, I'll be surprised if you ever figure anything out at all."
A very little amount of things could truly anger Daphne Greengrass. Usually, if she were annoyed, she simply replied with a dry, sarcastic comment. But an insult to her intelligence was more than she could take. She spun around, her green eyes flashing with anger, to meet the insolent boy who had injured her Slytherin pride.
Noticing that it was a boy who had written 'Dumbledore's Army, still recruiting', in a direct rebellion against their new teachers, she smiled. He still had bruises from the punishment. He was obviously not very bright, if he was going to insult her, a pureblooded witch from Slytherin, and go against Death Eaters. She wasn't scared of the Death Eaters, in fact, she thought most of them were rather dumb, but a boy such as the one in front of her should have been scared of them. He was, after all, probably stupider than they were.
Then again, the Death Eaters she had just insulted had all been Slytherins when they were at Hogwarts. And what with the likes of Pansy Parkinson and Hestia Carrow, she could understand why he would assume all Slytherins were stupid. So instead of hexing him, she dryly commented, "I think you have me mistaken with someone else. It's Millicent Bulstrode who still can't figure out Wingardium Leviosa."
And somehow, inexplicably, he laughed and stuck his hand out. "Anthony Goldstein. And excuse me if I don't think you're Millicent Bulstrode. Somehow, I don't think she'd be the type to admit that she wasn't bright."
Calculating the possibilities of getting the Cruciatus Curse later for talking with him, she shrugged and shook it. "It's Daphne Greengrass. I've spent practically my whole life being told 'don't shake hands with that muggle-born, Daphne, you'll get sick' so excuse me if my hand-shaking skills aren't up to par."
"I'm a half-blood," He deadpanned, then snickered, "You purebloods actually think that? And I thought it was stupid when Terry claimed that Ice Mice were mice bred in the arctic."
She rolled her eyes. "Not many mothers actually tell their children things like that, but we're expected never to fraternize with anyone below our status. I guess I'm breaking that rule right now."
He looked concerned, "I don't want to get you in trouble. I'll just sit down and hope no one saw that little exchange."
She smiled. "It's alright. I'm seventeen, so technically they can't do anything to me. I'm legally an adult, so I can talk to anyone I want."
He shook his head. "But that doesn't mean Professors Carrow and Carrow can't use the Cruciatus Curse on you. I'll just go. Besides, class is starting."
She looked towards the desk and saw that Professor Flitwick was indeed climbing up on his pile of books and waving his wand in hopes of getting people's attention. She quickly walked over to her seat by Theodore Nott, the only Slytherin who took Charms as well and watched as Anthony went and sat down by Terry Boot and Michael Corner. She felt a twinge of disappointment, but waved it away as Flitwick started talking.
"Okay class," he squeaked, "I was noticing how little those of you who take Muggle Studies were learning, and I thought today we could make a twist on a kind of Muggle School called a Finishing School."
Daphne agreed with what Flitwick had said about the failings of Alecto Carrow's teaching, but judging by the waves of anger practically rolling off of Nott, he did not. "Cool it," she whispered. "Do you want a detention?" He glared at her for a few seconds, then relaxed back into his usual bored stupor. Her focus returned to Flitwick's lecture, but quickly turned to confusion. She raised her hand, "Sir, what is Finishing School, and how does it relate to us?"
"Good question, Miss Greengrass!" he yelped happily. "Finishing School is a school which young muggle girls go to when to learn proper etiquette and manners. As for how it relates to us, another word for Finishing School is Charm School! Any other questions?"
Anthony raised his hand. "Sir, if it's a school for girls, what are us boys going to do?"
Flitwick clapped, overjoyed. "You boys are going to spot the girls. And at the end, we will have a dance lesson!"
A blonde (Daphne thought her name was Blossom, or some kind of flower) raised her hand and said in a high-pitched voice dripping with the color pink, "But Professor, we already know how to dance. We learned at the Yule Ball in 4th year, remember?"
"Yes, but do you know how to dance the Muggle way? In Muggle clothes?" She fell silent, and he continued. "I will now assign your partners. Mr. Corner, you will be working with Miss Lovegood Mr. Boot, you will be working with Miss Padma Patil. Mr. Longbottom, you will be working with Miss Abbot. Mr. Finnegan, you will be working with Miss Brown. Mr. Thomas, you will be working with Miss Parvati Patil." Daphne frowned. There were two more boys in the class and she was the only girl left. "And Mr. Nott, you will be working with Miss Greengrass."
"But sir," exclaimed Anthony, "I don't have a partner!"
"Okay then. You can work with Miss Greengrass and Mr. Nott. One of you will spot Miss Greengrass, and the other will dance with her at the end of class. Now everybody begin!"
Nott rolled his eyes, he clearly thought this was a bad idea. And having to work with a half-blood? There wouldn't be much left of Flitwick if Blaise told the Carrows. As much as she disliked the tiny Charms teacher, she wouldn't want to see him in a pool of blood. Trying to keep him pacified, she whispered in his ear, "Don't worry. Class is only an hour and a half, and fifteen minutes have gone by now. It'll be fine. I'll keep the half-blood busy."
His glare softened, "And how do you intend to do that?"
She smiled and tossed her dark hair. "We women are not without our ways, you know!" Anthony walked over, oblivious to their conversation, and Daphne gave him a dazzling smile. "So where do you want to start, Anthony?"
He looked a bit surprised at the affection in her voice, but he wasn't disappointed either. "Well, with my mom being a muggle, I know how to muggle dance. I'll take that part and you can take the spotting part, Nott."
Nott glared at him. "Don't address me, filth. And you'll be lucky if I don't hex you for implying that I will do any work."
Anthony blinked at the open hostility, and Daphne put her hand in his arm. "Don't mind Nott now, he's a grump in the mornings." He looked a bit dazed, and he stared at her for a moment. Then he shook his head, as if clearing his head of a fog. His blonde fringe flopped into his eyes and a giggle escaped her mouth. She felt a bit shocked and disgusted. Giggling was for Pansy and her cronies. Then she realized what she was doing. Was she seriously trying to seduce Anthony? Just so Nott wouldn't have to do any work? "Sorry, Goldstein. Can we start over?"
He grinned. "Sure. I thought there was something wrong; you weren't being sarcastic and trying to bite my head off. In fact, you were kind of acting like Sarah Fawcett."
"I'm sorry, but I have no idea who that is."
His grin deepened. "There's that dry wit! Sarah Fawcett is kind of like the Pansy Parkinson of our house."
She glared at him. "And you compared me to her?"
He shrugged, "Well, you were acting like her." She glared for a few more seconds, and then sighed.
"Sorry, Goldstein, I'm feeling very confused right now."
He held his hands up in mock surprise, "Holy Merlin! The Amazing Daphne Greengrass admits to having some problems!"
She frowned, "You've only known me for 20 minutes and you know me enough to say something like that?"
He laughed, "Jeez, you're so serious! I was joking."
She sighed again. "Like I said, I'm tense right now. I was raised my entire life to hate muggle-borns and muggles. So right now in this class, I'm feeling kind of conflicted."
He glared at her, "Why are you conflicted? Shouldn't you be over there with Nott, complaining about how stupid this class is?"
She smirked, "Now I'm the one telling you to calm down. I have no opinion about Muggles, but my parents do, and my sister does."
He looked confused, "But why do you care? Like you said before, you're 17, you don't have to listen to them anymore."
Flitwick passed by. Seeing that they were only talking, not working on their balance, he squealed, "Now you two, start working on your book balancing." He conjured a book and handed it to them. "Place it on your head, Miss Greengrass and walk around the room. If you can make it around the room without it falling, then you have impeccable balance. Keep going until you make it around the room perfectly!"
He walked away, and Daphne rolled her eyes and plopped the book on her head. Anthony snickered, "Nice hat." She reached out to punch him on the shoulder, then realized that she would be touching someone below her blood status. She shrugged and did it anyway. The book fell on his arm. "Ouch! For someone who's been raised to be a perfect little girl, you have an hard left hook!"
"What's a left hook?"
His jaw dropped, "You mean you've never heard of boxing? Wow, and I thought Neville was naïve!"
She looked mildly offended, "I've heard of boxing. Heath Parkinson is a huge fan. I just didn't recognize 'a left hook' right away."
Flitwick dropped by and tutted, "Now you two, get back to work. Miss Lovegood's already made it around the room twice!" Daphne turned around; indeed, Luna was skipping around the room with the book barely wiggling. Michael Corner was staring at her in shock.
"But Professor, we were talking about boxing. That's a muggle sport!" Anthony complained.
"Get back to work!"
Anthony groaned and muttered something like 'what's the point of a muggle-themed class if we can't talk about boxing?' Daphne rolled her eyes. "Come on Goldstein, let's work on this." She jammed the book on her head and winced. "Let's go." After several walks around the room with no success, she threw the book on the ground. "I quit!" She turned towards Anthony, who looked a little rattled by her outburst. "So what were you saying before?"
He blinked, "About boxing?"
She slapped his shoulder, "No you idiot! About me being 17?"
His confused look vanished. "I was saying that you shouldn't worry about them. You're 17. They can't do anything to you." His words sounded eerily familiar and she did a double take as she realized that that was how she had justified her cruel treatment of Pansy. Were they really that alike? "Daphne?" He waved his hand in front of her.
She started, "Oh sorry. Lost in my thoughts."
He grinned, "I understand." He flipped his hair and struck a pose, "Thinking about me?"
"No, I was not," she replied tartly.
His grin deepened as Flitwick walked over and clapped excitedly. "Oh, this is brilliant! Tension is perfect! I'm going to have you two do the muggle dance called the tango in our dance test!" He looked at the grand clock on the wall. "Which is starting now! You two are last. Hand me your muggle clothes, and I'll transfigure them into the perfect outfit for your dance." Daphne began to get a bad feeling when he handed her a slinky blood-red halter dress with flares at the bottom and slits up the sides.
Daphne wondered how they were supposed to dance, if they had no idea what they were doing. Her question was soon answered when Flitwick explained that he would place a spell on each couple, which would force their bodies to perform the dance that they were assigned. After watching Lovegood and Corner waltz, Abbot and Longbottom salsa, (with Hannah's toes getting stepped on. How Neville managed to do it with the spell, the world may never know) Finnegan and Brown foxtrot, Dean and Parvati do the meringue, and Boot and Padma samba, it was finally their turn. As a slow, flirtatious melody began to play, Daphne's bad feeling was confirmed.
Suddenly, Anthony grabbed her waist and dipped her down. Her leg lifted and curled around his back. Her dress fell down to her thighs and wolf whistles were heard throughout the classroom. Daphne blushed and Anthony got a strange light in his eyes. She shuddered as he twirled her away from him. Was she disappointed with the fact she no longer was pressed against him? She waved the thought away (along with the fact that the spell only controlled her body) and assumed that the spell was merely causing her to think strange thoughts. After many intricate movements, he twisted her close to him again, twirled her up into the air, and ended with the same pose as they started with. The class clapped and Flitwick, teary-eyed, cried, "Class dismissed!"
She ran out of the room, stopping only to hear Anthony's mates, Terry and Michael saying 'Nice job mate!' Thoughts raced through her mind, did she like Anthony? Did she want to dance tango again? If she did, would she want to ask Anthony? She curled up in a small alcove and tucked her head in between her legs.
"I personally liked your dress. It showed off your legs," came a deep voice from in front of her. She looked up and saw Anthony standing there, hands in his pockets, still in his tuxedo.
She laughed bitterly, "Thanks. You're the first person who's ever complimented my looks."
He looked shocked, "But you're amazing! How's that possible?"
She sighed, "Trust me, my whole life has been, 'Why can't you be as beautiful as Astoria?' and 'Isn't that Pansy Parkinson pretty? Why can't you be like her, Daphne?" A tear dripped from her eyes.
He looked angry and muttered something like 'so that's why she's such a cynic, and why she's so against love and boys.' He knelt down and wiped the tear from her cheek, "Look Daphne. You're drop-dead gorgeous, funny, and smarter then most of the girls in our year." He took a deep breath, "And I've been in love with you since first year."
Her eyes widened, "I- Anthony, that's amazing! But I don't know if I feel the same way…"
He smirked, "Well I know a way to figure it out." He leaned his head forward and kissed her. It was just like the tango; it held so much passion and fervor that she never wanted it to end.
When they finally came up for air, she gazed, starry-eyed at him. Then she dryly commented, "I figured it out. I love you."
He smiled, "I thought so." But then he looked worried, "What if your parents find out? Won't you get in trouble?"
"I don't care. I can do whatever I want. I'm seventeen, remember? And right now, what I want is another kiss." Things went on like that for a while, then Daphne commented, "I rather liked Charm School day. How about you?"