Important Disclaimer: This story begins approximately half way through the Order of the Phoenix, albeit with some slight changes in continuity. Harry and Cho's relationship has happened early, something which you will see explained in the context of the story. If an event happened in the film that is not covered in this continuity but is still referenced, presume it still played out identically. This is a romance story between Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass, not a retcon to the entire universe. Sections of the script have also been lifted directly from JK. Rowlings source material; of which I will give immediate credit for here and now. This has only been done in examples where it furthers the story and I do not claim that work as my own.

UPDATE: Since the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020, this story has since been rewritten, retconned and extended. I hope you enjoy this new version of the story. It is not required reading to understand the sequel, but is recommended.

And now proudly presenting, the first in a trilogy…

~ Living Dangerously ~

Were it not for the warped rays of sun that shone through the Great Lakes depths, the Slytherin common room might have appeared in the middle of night. A wall of glass that adorned the room allowed a peep beneath said body of water, which in turn illuminated the scene with a murky, green tinge. It made the dungeon glow with the aura of an underwater shipwreck.

"Go back and change your skirt."

Astoria gave a betrayed grimace.

"Daddy says I can wear it!"

Daphne paused. She was sill often taken back by the newfound boldness of her little sister's voice. Hearing such confidence and rebellion - it seemed only last week Astoria was about which Weird Sister she found the fittest.

"Daddy isn't here."

The younger girl bared her teeth into a snarl, pointing an accusing finger at her own lower half.

"You wear short skirts!"

"I'm older," she rebutted automatically, her expression unphased. "And I wear thigh-socks so my legs aren't exposed. You'll catch your death like that... and draw unwanted attention."

With a huff, Astoria marched the way she came, mumbling things that shouldn't be anywhere near the vocabulary of a girl her age.

"Maybe I want that attention..."

Daphne's eyebrows hit her hairline. Lucky for the younger sister, by the time she turned around to scold her, she had the good sense to have vanished back down the corridor.

Reluctantly, she returned back to her isolation.

The fireplace burned with a green flame and hung just above it was a proud ornamental shield of a serpent, the centrepiece of the room. Surrounding it were a few exotic skulls and portraits of famed house members decorating the wall. Beyond the glass wall, schools of fish swam occasionally by and amused the children - or frightened them, in the case of a Grindylow or Ramora. Some even said that on rare nights the ghostly silhouette of a giant squid could be seen lurking in the deep dark. That part was mostly nonsense - she knew that - but it still added to the ambience of the room. Most considered it haunting or off-putting, but she loved it that way.

It wasn't just the fact it was empty right now that was so noticeable, it was so startlingly empty. The scene wasn't old and abandoned, or was it destroyed. It was simply empty. Clumsily empty, unromantically empty. The silence was practically deafening, if not for the haunting noise of the lake. The common room was desolate and daunting in a prosaic way. It felt like there was not another living being within a hundred miles distance of the place. And that was exactly why she loved it.

This kind of isolation had become a recurring habit for Daphne Greengrass.

Noise sounded from the corridor again and she turned to follow up the scolding she'd been brewing for Astoria, but was instead met by a human jack-in-the-box.

"Ot you 'aighin 'or?"

Daphne frowned.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ot' are you aighayyin 'or?"

"Talk normally!"

The girl stuck two fingers into her mouth, bulging out her cheek in a phallic way.

"What're you waitin' for?" she finally spoke properly.

Tracey Davis was an artist's rudimentary impression of a tomboy, made by somebody who had never met a tom nor a boy. She had short pixie-like hair, though covered by a brown, knitted beanie that she rarely removed. She was shorter than Daphne, noticeably skinnier than her and looked her complete opposite in just about every single way. An outsider would have no clue the two were related.

Daphne squinted in grotesque disbelief.

"Astoria's still getting ready... Please take that disgusting thing out of your mouth."

Around her fingers, Tracey's face broke into a grin.

"Two more days! Chill out, yeah?"

Daphne and Tracey shared a mother. Technically, that would make them sisters.

"Why aren't you in lessons already?"

"'Evy 'ight 'ast 'ight, am bill 'ungover."

She stared down her nose at her, but as the sound of heels on stone appeared and drew closer, a small raven-haired girl reappeared around the corner. Astoria gestured down to her now-knee-length skirt with crossed arms and blue expression.

"Better?"

Daphne let out a slow breath and gave the younger girl her best attempt at a sympathetic look.

"I'm only trying to help you, 'Tori."

As soon as she received the answer, Astoria moved to march past them both.

"Mmm."

In her wake, Tracey shrugged, amused.

"E's befeniely bour arfher's 'aughter."

Begrudgingly late, the trio of mismatched Slytherin girls departed from the dungeons and made their way up and out into the castle. It was not a long trip for Daphne and Tracey, who met their year as they were draining into Professor Snape's Potions classroom. Daphne had been hoping to get breakfast before the lesson started. Now because of Astoria, she was late for being early. The sisters parted ways and Daphne and Tracey joined in the back of their year, filling into the lesson in silence.

The Slytherin House had a motto it often defined itself by: Proud. Ambitious. Cunning. These were the traits she made a point to strive towards. While some of her housemates obnoxiously spewed house pride wherever they could - Daphne Greengrass put the effort in to earn it.

The famed witch prodigy of Slytherin House, now entering the peak of her Fifth Year at Hogwarts. She was a phenomenal flyer, though deathly afraid of heights. And skilled swords-woman, despite labelling herself a pacifist. Not to mention, member of the Sacred Twenty Eight and the heir to the Greengrass Woodhouse. And the daughter of a respected Death Eater. And the most important of all; she was a hardworking professional, miles above her class and simply biding her time until an opportunity arose where she could prove herself somewhere it mattered.

But this Hogwarts Ice Queen was a cliched, overdone and inaccurate image of what she was actually like, however. Under her many titles, she was still a teenage girl. One with feelings, wants and urges of her own. The simple difference between her and everybody else was she knew the importance of putting priorities into education over personal life. Isolation was not quite as willing of a choice as she'd have you believe; though she took no pleasure out of making others dislike her - it just so happened that she was very good at it.

Professor Snape gave no call for order, the moment the class had heard the door close they all fell silent and murmuring stopped. The Professor swept over to his desk.

"Before we begin today… I think it appropriate to remind you all that this June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the preparation, classification and use of potions… And as moronic as some of you in this class undoubtedly are... I expect all of you to be able to scrape an Acceptable in your OWLs."

His gaze lingered across the room to Potter's group of friends. Behind her, Draco snickered.

"Next year, many of you will cease to study with me..." he went on. "I will only be taking the best of the best into my NEWT-levels lessons..."

His eyes rested on Daphne. She gave him an appreciative nod back.

Tracey scoffed beside her.

"Ge' a room."

"My reason for bringing this up today is because we, as a lesson… by which I mean, some more than others… are not keeping up with Professor Umbridge's new curriculum. So, we will be taking the coming month to catch up. I have prepared a mock examination for two weeks time, during the next two hours and then periodically throughout to next week, we will be brewing a potion that often finds itself on the Ordinary Wizarding Level exam: The Draught of Peace. Once your potion is complete, I will be grading it as though it were part of the OWLs. "

At the words, Daphne quickly sat up a little straighter.

"Draught of Peace is a potion designed to soothe anxiety and agitation…" the Professor continued, "so be warned, sloppiness in the brewing can cause the drinker to slip into a heavy and irreversible sleep, so pay extra attention to what you are doing. The ingredients and method are on the blackboard. You will find everything you need in the storage cupboards. You have an hour and a half, begin when ready."

There was a scraping of chairs as everyone stood up, and predictably, Daphne could sense more than a little panic going on in the room.

It was unusual for the Professor to drop them into the deep end with a higher level potion like that. They must really be in trouble. The ingredients for Draught of Peace had to be added in a very specific order; then the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, first clockwise, then anticlockwise; the heat of the flame had to be exactly the right level before the ingredients were added, and so on. And this all had to happen over the course of at least a week. She knew the mechanics behind it and, in theory, it shouldn't prove too difficult for someone of her capability, but as for the others in her lesson… one would think Professor Snape was intentionally setting them up for failure.

As everyone was scrambling to the ingredients cupboard and their cauldrons, Daphne and Tracey didn't see Professor Snape appear by their table.

"Move along, Davis."

Tracey flinched at his sudden appearance.

"Wha' up 'Oessor?"

The Professor squinted like he'd misheard her.

"What?"

She opened her mouth to answer but was cut off by him raising his hand in protest.

"Don't. Just go. Now."

Tracey didn't protest. As she moved into the crowding students, the Professor came to Daphne' side.

"If Potter's previous marks are anything to go by... his brew will undoubtedly drag the marks down of the entire class. He is in dire need of assistance. If I were to partner the two of you this coming assignment, could you do your utmost to ensure he scrapes an Acceptable grade by the end of it?"

A sinking feeling made itself known inside her. She wasn't known for working well with others. Even Tracey, her excuse of a best friend, wouldn't detest that.

She never deliberately intended for her blunt attitude to come across the way it did, but if others interpreted it as her being this antisocial monster, then frankly, they were not her problem. Not to mention, Gryffindors and Slytherins didn't really support each other out of principle. That was a feud that had been going on since long before her time and she had no desire to change the status quo.

But she supposed that, aside from his famed messiah complex, Potter seemed to average decent marks and keep mostly to himself. He wasn't an ideal partner… Nor would anyone be, she was more than capable of mixing this brew on her own… but she also was not about to refuse a request from her Head of House.

"Of course. Professor."

Saying that, as soon as she actually spoke to him, she'd soon find any suspicions of the boy were about to be fulfilled.

The Professor left them to it. Potter, looking confused to how exactly he'd ended up here, offered her a half-nod. She examined him up and down.

"How well do you know this potion?"

He squinted pathetically.

"... alright?"

She fought the urge to sigh. Not off to a great start, but by the Old Gods, she wasn't about to fail a task lent to her. So long as he kept to himself and let her work, they should get along just fine.

"Right, well. I will prepare the brew if you could hand me the ingredients? Can you do that?"

He frowned at her, looking somewhere between relieved he wouldn't have to do it and offended she'd even offer.

"You serious?"

She nodded confidently.

"I believe I know what I'm doing. Just copy down my notes for the written assignment."

He seemed happy with that.

"Alright. Cheers."

Daphne had begun sweating. Glancing up, she took a brief examination of the classroom. Tracey and Pansy were together, their potion was bubbling green - it wasn't supposed to be green. That was good for her, bad for them. Probably because Pansy was too busy trying to catch Dracos attention as she bent down pretending to relight their cauldron.

Professor Snape swept by her and Potter mercifully without comment. She breathed a sigh of relief. Silence meant he couldn't find anything to criticise, which marked a victory for her.

The surface of their potion was shimmering silver, looking like melted metal.

"Powdered Moonstones."

She held out her hand and, as he had done a dozen or so times already, Potter silently placed the ingredient in her palm. Taking the wood container, she carefully removed four of the stones and placed each one in the mixture at timed intervals. She stirred the potion a number of times, then as the purple began to show she ceased the movement and began again in the opposite direction.

"Hellebore."

They repeated the action, as they had been doing for about an hour now. She would acknowledge her appreciation of his patience, but such an observation would interrupt the delicate potion. Considering the expectations Professor Snape had set her of him, she would make sure to mention his due diligence back to him later/

"Powdered Porcupine Quills."

She held out her hand. Nothing touched her. She looked up and saw Potter away from their cauldron doing… something.

"Powdered Porcupine Quills?" she repeated, louder.

She caught his attention and he returned quickly to her side.

"Sorry. What?"

"Powdered Porcupine Quills, please!"

He handed them over and she added the quills one by one into the brew, only just making the time window she had to add them in.

Okay, ignore all the dues she had just given him. Suppose if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

A patient and attentive Gryffindor was one of those things.

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," said the Professor.

She squinted at the blackboard. It was not easy to make out his handwriting through the haze of steam that was filling the dungeon. As far as she could tell she had followed the instructions to the letter, but now was approaching the trickiest parts of the brew. She would admit it - this potion was proving a lot more difficult in practice than she had been expecting.

As if a part of some pre-planned cue, her potion immediately began radiating copious amounts of said sliver vapour. A small amount of relief entered her system, but was instantly drowned out by the hard beating of her heart. So far, so good. She always aimed to impress and needless to say, pulling off an advanced level potion at an O-level grade on her first go would look exceptionally good on her school records. Not to mention, probably do her some favours with the Professor after helping him out with his problem.

"Unicorn horn?"

She waited on the spot but again, received nothing. Cursing under her breath, her attention snapped up away from the cauldron, again finding him again a number of feet away from her.

"Unicorn horn, Potter!" she hissed to him.

This time he didn't immediately lurch back towards her. He noticed her, but decided to take his sweet time finishing his conversation. It was time that neither Daphne nor the potion had to spare.

"POTTER!"

He jumped at her sudden raise of tone.

"Sorry! What do yo-"

"UNICORN HORN!"

"Right! Sorry! Sorry!"

Thankfully, he understood the implication behind her tone. He darted back to the ingredients cupboard and brought her the jar in an instant.

As he leaned across the cauldron to place it on the table beside her, he moved in close, his hand firmly taking grip of her lower back. Daphne froze up in an instant. A rush of tingles swept the base of her spine and rocketed all the way up her back. He finished leaning, placed the jar of unicorn horn by her side and then went back to his position on the other side of the cauldron.

It took her a second to bring herself back to the world of the living. Apparently that second was too long for him, as he noticed.

"Well?" he sarcastically remarked to her.

She stammered to formulate her wordings.

"Shut… s-shut up."

She pushed all the breath from her lungs and quickly took to the potion, more aggressively now than before. She wasn't used to being man-handled, that was all. Nobody ever touched her. Even Tracey respected her physical boundaries.

It had been so long since someone had that it didn't even occur to her to scold him for it, she simply stared wide-eyed and confused at him.

She dropped the unicorn horns into the brew a few seconds too late, but she elected to ignore that. She could still feel his handprint on her back, though.

"Hellebore?"

This time as she placed out her hand it was met almost instantly by the respective ingredients. Good, that was more like it. She must have scared him into caring. She unscrewed the jar and poured the powdered hellebore into the cauldron beneath.

And then - watched in horror as instead, a dozen highly explosive Erumpents horns went splashing into her near-perfect brew.

"Potter… what was tha-"

"Wait! I don't think that wa-"

A bright burst of light flashed around the room. Blackness filled the air, several people shouted, there was a noise like a crack of thunder and the floor shook beneath them.

Before she even realised what had happened, Daphne's tailbone hit the floor painfully and the air was viciously dragged out of her lungs. She struggled around, coughing through the smoke.

As the scene began to settle she brought herself to her feet. In front of her, her perfect brew was petrified into grey mud, along with all her hopes and aspirations for this grade. An equally as shocked looking Potter was recovering on the opposite side. A rage came to life inside her that was so intense, for a second it didn't even register as anger. Her fists balled up tight, white-knuckled. The only sound audible to her now was the beating of her eardrums. She very quickly became that angry she did not care what happened next.

She stared down at him without a trace of emotion on her face. Her temper, which had been bubbling something nasty since the lesson started, had reached its boiling point.

"YOU'VE RUINED IT! ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS HAND ME THE BLOODY INGREDIENTS!

Potter's face twisted into something ugly as he leapt on the defensive.

"You don't have to shout! It was an accide-"

She kicked a stool aside, marched around the cauldron and right up to him.

"YOU HAD ONE JOB! I COULD NOT HAVE MADE IT SIMPLER FOR YOU!"

Her breath was coming in loud spurts. She could feel herself shaking. She had hardly shouted at anyone before, much less The Boy Who Lived, and very much less in front of other people. But she was too deep in to back out now, and nor did she entirely want to.

The classroom was completely silent and still. Everyone's attention had fallen on them, staring, but nobody dared say a word. She could practically feel their lesson collectively holding its breath.

"ALL RIGHT, CALM DOWN!"

When Potter shouted, it was louder than her. She did not take kindly to that.

"DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!" she shot back, fuming. "WERE YOU DELIBERATELY TRYING TO RUIN IT, OR ARE YOU GENUINELY AS STUPID AS THEY SAY?"

"IT WASN'T MY FAULT! YOU PUT THE INGREDIENTS IN!"

There was a desperation in his voice that pleaded mercy. Truth be told, she didn't know herself why she was getting so determined to argue, but had already elected to ride it out. She probably couldn't stop herself now if she wanted to anyway.

"Degenerate," she spat at him. "I bet your parents are proud."

The second the words left her mouth, she realised then and there that she should have indeed, left it when he had asked.

What was she doing, deliberately trying to patronise him? He was absolutely right the first time, it was accident, she should calm down and they should just get the lesson over with. So why in Merlin's name had she just said that? Well, in her defence, she'd momentarily forgotten he was orphaned.

Daphne pulled herself back from the cauldron and turned, only to find Potter inches away from her face. She recoiled, and opened her mouth to attempt a backpedal, but was cut off.

"SURPRISED TO SEE YOU TALK ABOUT PARENTS! PRETTY SURE I SAW YOUR DAD THERE, THE NIGHT VOLDEMORT RETURNED, DIDN'T I?"

She winced at the name.

There was a collective intake of breath from the class, who up until this point had been in stunned silence. Pansy slapped a hand over her mouth, Tracey dropped something, the Professor was still nowhere to be seen.

Her instinct was to scold him something fierce, but was able to catch that temper in her throat. Still reeling from the low blow she'd just dealt him, she decided it was best to not push it.

"Yeah, thought so."

At his words, another fire suddenly surged through her veins.

An instinct took over her body and pushed her to lash out. She struck him roughly in the stomach with both hands. Instantly, several Gryffindor students moved up out of their seat, a few shouted but she didn't hear them. It had been an attempt to push him a number of feet away from her, but she only actually succeeded in giving him a light shove. One which he barely seemed to notice.

"ENOUGH!"

Professor Snape finally, and quite suddenly, appeared between the two.

"STOP IT! PAIR OF YOU!"

The sight of the Professor instantly dosed the fury raging in her. She turned from Potter without saying a word and walked back to her seat at the table.

"Both of you will see me after the lesson!" he deadpanned, before turning to address their audience, "Well, what are you all waiting for!? There are still four minutes left of the lesson, use them!"

While everyone around them began trampling back to their cauldrons, Daphne cleared away her things, seething. Their potion had been the best prepared in the class - which wasn't difficult considering the bar Longbottom and Goyle had set for them - but she would receive zero marks for today's work. She had been given a task to do and she had failed it miserably. And everyone had seen her outburst.

Potter had a nerve using her father's name against her like that.

"Times up. Stop any and all brewing and pack up your things immediately. Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your names and bring it to my desk. Homework is to be on the properties of moonstone and its usage in Draught of Peace making, due next Wednesday."

She stuffed her wand into her sleeve and slumped in her seat, pathetically watching everyone else march to the Professor's desk and drain from the room. Tracey locked eyes with her briefly; she didn't look like she was going to wait. Nor would Daphne expect her too, either. The more people left, the ever aware she became of Potter's presence beside her, but a stubborn spite refused to acknowledge him further.

Now the Potions classroom had emptied and she and Potter sat alone with their teacher, and the Professor's face was surprisingly blank. That was almost worse. At first Daphne assumed she was going to get an earfull, it would have been a first for her, but an infinitely preferable option to what she was about to experience.

"I placed you and Potter together because I had thought if anyone was able to stop him cocking it up, it would be you," his tone struck a cord that made her hate herself even more, "But clearly... I underestimated your skill. And overestimated Potter's stupidity, if that were possible."

"Professor Snape, I didn'-", she tried suddenly.

"Be quiet!"

She found herself struggling to maintain the Ice Queen persona she'd become well-known for, as her temper now flared with a burning passion.

"You cannot have lesson time to catch up. So tonight and over the weekend evenings you will both return to this room for half an hour of detention. During that time you will rebrew and complete the potion in time for the exam - if your grade is anything anything less than perfect you'll both fail the unit and I shall be forced to involve Professor Umbridge."

Her priority now was remaining calm. She worked hard for a reputation among the professors and wasn't about to run the risk of souring it.

What he was suggesting was fair. Of course, she'd attend the extra lessons under silent protest, but she would get them over with. It'd interfere completely with her nightly schedule - her workout routine and diet would be totally thrown off balance, but she digressed.

"Oh and Potter, don't even think about copying Greengrass's work. I expect your written work to be your own, and I shall be able to tell. Now, you both already know where the ingredients are. If you need me, I'll be in the staff room attempting to enjoy the rest of my night. When I return I expect the process to have reached step five, understood?"

"Yes, Professor… " she mumbled scornfully. "I'm sorry, Professor."

"Can't we just do this in lesson?"

Daphne repressed the urge to growl.

"You are now two hours behind your classmates and I will not give up my lesson time for you to catch up," her Head of House was growing impatient. "Ten points from Gryffindor."

It was clear Potter didn't mind escalating this into something more, which further annoyed her. It made sense he'd feel the need to drag it out. Just who did he think he was?

Her pride had at least been something she had earned, not something she'd been wrongfully born with. She silently willed him to stop talking, if anything, just so they could get the lecture over with.

As the potions master took his leave, Potter deflated. He glanced in her direction and tried putting on a smile. Whatever attempts at peacemaking he was pulling went unreciprocated. She marched past him and muttered something fowl under her breath. She'd not been around him more than two hours and he was pushing every one of her buttons.

Reluctantly, she had a high annoyance threshold. She had to, having Tracey Davis as a half-sister. So she didn't find it difficult to ignore him as they retook their positions from earlier and began work from the beginning. Neither of them wanted to be here and she was sure if there was one thing they had in-common, it was that they both wanted to get out of here as quickly - and as calmly - as possible. She was willing to let mormos be mormos, which was more than he had earned.

As she retook her place above the cauldron, a hot flush wandered over her. When their potion had gone up in flames it had released thick fumes into the air. That, combined with the nerves involved in getting shouted at, sweat was making its way from her brow and several other places. She began regretting her wardrobe choice and soon felt the irony in advising Astoria about thigh-high socks, hers of which were currently sending pulse after pulse of heat through her system.

She fanned at her face, her exterior working overtime not portray the exasperated girl underneath.

As she stretched out her back, she caught Potter's eyes wandering up her torso. She gave him a second, then when his eyes didn't move, she coughed assertively. Incredibly, either he was truly as ignorant as he seemed, or he simply did not care. His eyes remained fixed on her legs. Her eyes narrowed harshly.

She didn't take him for the sleazy type, but what he was doing wasn't subtle in the slightest. He also, if she recalled, had a girlfriend.

"What're you looking at?"

His head snapped up and he looked between the cauldron and her a few times, acting like she hadn't just caught him in the act.

"N-nothing."

"Right. Maybe if you focused less on me and more on the potion, we might actually get somewhere tonight."

"I-I wasn't, I was… W-Why are you just standing there?"

Her immediate response was to grind her teeth together. Apparently, Potter had a mouth on him today. That was fine. She chewed her lip, trying to piece together the least problematic response she could muster.

"The cauldron is preheating and I was taking a moment to stretch. Is that alright with you?"

He rolled his eyes, "Okay... just, I want to try and get this done quickly. I'm meeting people tonight."

Her eyebrows snapped up to the ceiling. A flare of temper ignited inside her and this time she didn't have the self control to ignore it.

"Listen to me - you did absolutely nothing today - bar making childish faces at Weasley across the room! It was a perfect brewing! An easy Outstanding-grade! And the only reason it was ruined was because - you know what - no!"

Daphne shook him from her head completely.

She was better than this.

She wasn't going to risk further detention time, so she gritted her teeth and rolled up her sleeves.

"I'll do the brewing. Again! You get the ingredients... The right ones, this time! I need powdered moonstone next... It's under there," she pointed across the room.

Potter stared at her coldly. He shuffled off miserably in the direction she sent him, but not without muttering under his breath.

"...a bloody please wouldn't hurt…"

"PLEASE, POTTER!"

She knew exactly what he was trying to do. She knew, but really couldn't find the effort in herself to argue it. Potter threw her a painfully fake smile and moved over to rummage beneath the ingredients cabinet.

As he went, she tugged at her shirt collar. Receiving those looks from him (and to make matters worse, in private) made her uneasy. And she could still feel the tingling area he had touched before. The heat must have been really getting to her, it was unlike her to be so crass.

"Here," he returned and handed her the ingredients. "What else, Professor Greengrass?"

At that moment another flush hit Daphne and her mouth spoke before her brain was able to silence it.

"WILL YOU SHUT UP!? Can we please - I just want to get this finished! I don't want to be here anymore than you do!"

The speed her words came out revealed she'd said that all on a single, forced-out breath. Potter moved back to his side of the cauldron and mercifully, decided to stay there. The sincerity in her voice apparently must have finally gotten through to him.

This set off a number of minutes where the two worked together in mostly silence. Not having the stress of the Professor watching them or the atmosphere of being in lesson made the two work quicker and smoother, with Daphne giving the demand of what she needed and Potter quickly finding it for her.

Just as they neared the half-way point of their brewing, he spoke up again.

"I wasn't looking at you, by the way - I was, but not like, not in that way. I wouldn't. Not you, I mean," he then added.

Daphne raised a brow. What was he implying? She thought petty insults were below him, as they definitely were her.

She scoffed at him.

"I hardly think you're in any position to body shame. Not with that on your forehead."

She surprised herself with that one. As she had with this entire episode of hers. She had a habit of being blunt and of snapping at people, but rarely was she ever outright cruel.

Potter rolled his eyes, sighed in annoyance and said, "I wasn't calling you anything... I just meant..."

"Right," she cut him off, ending the conversation. "Pass me the Hellebore."

He gave her a look that she could only guess was meant to be disgust and then looked away, blushing. He opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish, struggling to find his words. He looked at her, back at the cauldron, then back at her. Breaking the exchange, he then returned over to the ingredients stack to await her next order.

She threw him a dirty look and leaned back across the cauldron. That felt like a victory on her part.

The next ten or so minutes passed without incident and soon the silence of the dungeons made them aware of the footprints coming towards the classroom.

"This will do. For now."

Professor Snape looked down his nose at them. Daphne hated being on the receiving end of one of his infamous glares. She would be working overtime in lessons to get back in his good-books.

"Potter, I expected this kind of behaviour from you. But, Greengrass? If you have an episode like that during a lesson again... I shall be forced to involve your father."

Far more than she feared Professor Snape, Professor Umbridge, or even the Headmaster, Daphne did not want to know how her father would respond to all of this. The thought sent a shudder down her spine.

As the door slammed shut behind, the two didn't so much as stop to acknowledge each other as they went quickly down opposite directions of the corridor; Potter up into castle and Daphne, deeper into the dungeons. She almost walked head-first into the stone wall they used as the entrance to the common room. It took her two attempts to successfully say the password before the wall was able to be walked through. As it turned transparent, she immediately took off again; leading head-first into the group of people she least desired to see right now.

Pansy and Draco, the bitch-queen and spoiled king of the common room, sat on the leather settee in conversation. Millicent hovered lightly around them. It didn't take the trio long to notice they had company.

"Bloody hell is wrong with you?" Draco asked.

She didn't feel his question was out of sincerity.

"Back from my run."

Millicent laughed and moved closer. Daphne stood her ground.

"Look like you've seen a ghost!"

Pansy sneered at the bigger girl.

"That's a pretty silly expression to use when you think about it about where we live."

Daphne moved around her, her feet itching to get moving again.

"Night."

Her housemates looked at her as though she'd spoken in a different language, but before the group had time to react, she moved past them and made her way through to the girls dormitories.

She entered into her private dorm room, crossed the bedroom in four large steps and collapsed face-first into her pillow. She didn't bother turning the lights on as she entered.

Her heartbeat began to slow, and with a drawn out exhale of breath, she returned once again to her peaceful isolation.

She'd get these detentions over and done with, and after that she would never have to associate with Harry-Bloody-Potter again.