~ Living Dangerously ~

I

The Ice Queen

Were it not for the warped rays of sunlight shining through the mossy depths of the Great Lake, the Slytherin common room might have appeared to be in the middle of night. The wall of glass that adorned the room allowed a peep beneath said body of water, which in turn illuminated the sheltered scene with a murky, green tinge. At times like this, it made the entire dungeon glow with the aura of an abandoned, underwater shipwreck.

"Go back and change your skirt."

Astoria shot a betrayed glance.

"Daddy says I can wear it!"

She paused - taken back by the newfound boldness in her sister's voice. Hearing such confidence and rebellion was an unexpected yet refreshing change from last year, when it seemed the only thing she cared about more than gossip was which Quidditch player she found the fittest.

"Well... Daddy isn't here."

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

"You wear short skirts!"

"Because I am older," she rebutted automatically, unfazed. "And I wear thigh-socks so my legs aren't exposed. You'll catch your death like that... not to mention draw unwanted attention."

After a huff of teenage rebellion, Astoria marched back the way she came, mumbling things that shouldn't have been anywhere near the vocabulary of a girl her age.

"Maybe I want that attention..."

Lucky for her, she had the good sense to vanish quickly after that.

Reluctantly, Daphne Greengrass returned to her isolation once more.

A green flame flickered around in the fireplace, hanging just above that was a proud ornamental shield of a serpent, the centerpiece of the room. On either side were decorated skulls of exotic animals, both magical and normalem, and portraits of famed house members on the walls. Beyond the glass wall separating them from the lake's depths, schools of fish swam - occasionally being frightened or rushed by a Grindylow or Ramora. Some even said on rare nights, one could spot the ghostly silhouette of the giant squid lurking in the deep dark. That part was mostly nonsense - she didn't believe in the squid - but the thought of 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 the fact that the room was empty right now that was noticeable, it was that it was so startlingly empty. Clumsily empty, unromantically empty. The scene wasn't old or abandoned, nor was it destroyed, there were papers strewn around, items of clothing abandoned by their owners, the odd dish left out overnight. It was clear this was a room that was well-lived in, but right now? It was simply as though everyone that had ever stepped foot inside this dungeon had ceased to exist. It was desolate and depressing, but in an eloquent way. Like she was the last one left alive after some unnatural disaster. Like she was the only one that lived here. And that was exactly why she loved it.

This kind of isolation was a comfortable 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?"

She frowned.

"I do 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.

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

Daphne squinted back at her in grotesque disbelief.

Tracey Davis was what she imagined an artist's rudimentary impression of a tomboy would be like - provided that said artist had never met either a tom or a boy. She had short pixie-like hair, though it was always covered by an ugly knitted beanie that she rarely removed, and an overall androgynous look to her. She was shorter than Daphne was, noticeably skinnier, and looked just about the complete opposite to her in just about every single way. An outsider would have no clue the two were related.

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

Around her fingers, Tracey's mouth tried for a grin.

"Just two more days! Chill out, yeah?"

You see, Daphne and Tracey share the same mother, so technically, that made them sisters. And yes, that 'technically' part, is important.

"Why aren't you in lessons already?"

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

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

"Better?"

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

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

"Mmm."

As soon as she received the answer, Astoria moved to march past them both. In her wake, Tracey shrugged, amused.

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

Begrudgingly late, the trio of mismatched Slytherins 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 fellow fifth years as they were draining into Professor Snape's Potions lesson. Daphne had been hoping to get breakfast before they started, but now because of Astoria, they were late for being early. The sisters parted ways and Daphne and Tracey joined in the back of their year, filing into the lesson in silence.

The Slytherin House had a motto it often defined itself by: Proud. Ambitious. Cunning.

These were the traits that Daphne Greengrass made a point to strive towards. While most her housemates just obnoxiously spewed house pride wherever they could - she had put the effort in to actually 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. Member of the Sacred Twenty Eight Pureblood families and the heir to the Greengrass fortune and Woodhouse. The Daughter of a respected Death Eater. But the most important of all of that; she was hardworking and professional, she had goals she wanted to achieve and would push herself to obtain them. She was simply biding her time until an opportunity arose where she could prove herself where it mattered.

But this Hogwarts Ice Queen was a clichéd, overdone and inaccurate image of what she was actually like.

Under her many titles, walls and claims to fame, she was actually still just a teenage girl. Despite what you may have heard, the Ice Queen was never real. She had feelings, needs, and urges of her own. The simple difference between her and everybody else was that she knew where her priorities lay. She put her attention into her education over personal life, it was as simple as that. Others didn't like her for it, though, and isolation was not quite as willing of a choice as she'd have you believe. 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. She took no pleasure out of making others dislike her - but it just so happened that she was also very good at it.

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

"Before we begin today… I think it appropriate to remind you all that come this June, you will be sitting for 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 a table of Gryffindor's. Behind her, she heard snickering.

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

His eyes came to rest 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 weeks to catch up. I have prepared a mock examination for two weeks time. In preparation for it, during the next two hours and then periodically throughout 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, she 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. Partner up, two students per cauldron. The ingredients and method are on the blackboard. I cannot help you, but if you raise your hand, I will read the instructions to you more clearly. Otherwise, you will find everything you need in the storage cupboards. You have two hours, begin when ready."

There was a scraping of chairs as everyone stood up, and predictably, she 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 - that translated into them being 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 scrambled to the ingredients cupboard, Daphne and Tracey failed to spot Professor Snape appearing by their table.

"Move along, Davis."

She flinched at his sudden appearance.

"Wha' up 'Oessor?"

He 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."

She 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. Which drags my marks down, as a teacher. He's 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 by the end of it?"

A sinking feeling made itself known inside her. She wasn't known for working well with others outside her friendship group - that group typically encompassed just Tracey and Astoria. And she doubted either of them would detest that.

Not to mention, Gryffindors and Slytherins didn't support each other out of principle. That was a feud that had been going on long since before her time and she had no desire to change the status quo.

But, aside from his supposed messiah complex, Potter did seem to average decent marks and kept mostly to himself. He wasn't an ideal partner… Nor would anyone be, truthfully, not when 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 would come to actually speak to him, she'd soon find any suspicions of the boy were about to be fulfilled.

The Professor ushered him over and left them to it. Potter looked confused to how exactly he'd ended up here, and offered her a polite upwards-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 Great Old Ones, 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? Could you do that?"

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

"You serious?"

She nodded confidently.

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

He seemed happy with that.

"Alright. Cheers."

She'd begun sweating. Glancing up, she took a brief examination around the classroom. Tracey and Pansy were together, their potion bubbling green - it wasn't meant to be green. That was good for her, bad for them.

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 surgically removed four of the stones and placed each one into the mixture at timed intervals. She stirred it a number of times, then as the purple began to show through, she ceased the movement and began again in the opposite direction.

"Hellebore."

They repeated the action once more, as they had been doing for about an hour now. She would congratulate him on his patience, if such an observation would not interrupt the delicate potion. Considering the expectations Professor Snape had set of him, she'd make sure to mention his diligence back to him later.

"Powdered Porcupine Quills."

She held out her hand again, but this time 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 sounded too good to be true, it probably was.

And 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 filling the dungeon. As far as she could tell she had followed the instructions lto the letter, but now was approaching the trickiest parts of the brew. She would admit it - this was proving a lot more difficult in practice than she had been expecting.

As if a part of some pre-planned cue, their potion immediately began radiating copious amounts of silver mist. A small amount of relief entered her system, but was instantly drowned 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 with an O-level grade would look exceptionally good on her school records. Not to mention, probably do her some favours with the Professor after boosting Potter's credit score.

"Unicorn horn?"

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

"Unicorn horn, Potter!"

This time he didn't immediately lurch back. He noticed her, but decided to take his 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 urgency behind her tone. He darted back to the ingredients cupboard and retrieved the jar in an instant. As he leaned across the cauldron to bring it beside her, he moved close, his hand firmly taking grip of her lower back.

Upon contact, Daphne froze in an instant. A rush of tingles swept the base of her spine and rocketed all the way up her back. He 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 the breath from her lungs and quickly took to the potion, more aggressively now than before.

She wasn't used to being man-handled. It was a shock to the system - nobody ever touched her. Even Tracey respected her physical boundaries. It had been so long since someone had, it didn't even occur to her to scold him for it. She had simply stared wide-eyed and confused at him like some kind of drooling fangirl. She could still feel the imprint of his hand on her back.

When she dropped the unicorn horns into the brew, it was technically a few seconds late, but she elected to ignore that.

"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 burst of light flashed around the room. Before she even realised what had happened, her tailbone hit the floor painfully and the air was viciously dragged out of her lungs. Smoke filled the air, several people shouted and there was a noise like a crack of thunder, shaking the floor beneath them. She struggled around to find the legs of her stool, coughing painfully through the smoke.

As the scene began to settle she was able to climb to her feet and through the clearing smoke, she saw it. Her perfect brew had been 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 into tight, white-knuckles. The sounds of shouting drained away as the only thing audible to her now was the pounding beat of her eardrums. Her temper, which had been bubbling something nasty since the lesson started, had reached its boiling point. She very quickly, very ruthlessly, became so angry that she did not care what happened next.

She stared down at him without a trace of emotion on her face.

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

His face twisted into something ugly as he leapt on the defensive.

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

She kicked her stool aside and marched around the cauldron at 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 a classroom full of people. But she was too deep to back out now, nor did she entirely want to. In contrast to a moment ago, their classroom was entirely silent and still now. Everyone's attention had fallen on them, staring, but nobody daring to say a word. She could practically feel them collectively holding their breath.

"ALL RIGHT, CALM DOWN!"

When Potter shouted back, it was louder than her. She didn't like 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 ME! 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.

"Oh, you absolute degenerate!" she spat at him. "Didn't your parents ever teach you any respect!?"

The second the words left her mouth, she realised then and there that she should have indeed left it when he asked. What was she doing, deliberately trying to patronise him? He was absolutely right the first time, it was an 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.

She slowed her approach around the cauldron and stopped, only inches from Potter's face. She recoiled, opened her mouth to attempt a backpedal, but was cut off.

"I didn't me-"

"SURPRISED TO SEE YOU TALK ABOUT PARENTS!" he shouted at her, point-blank. 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 smashed something, and for some reason, Professor Snape was still nowhere to be seen.

Her instinct was to scold him something fierce, but she 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."

But in response to his words, another fire suddenly surged through her veins.

An instinct took over and she struck him in the chest with both hands. Instantly, several Gryffindor students moved out of their seats, 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'd 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.

"SEPARATE! PAIR OF YOU!"

His appearance instantly dosed the fury raging in her. She turned from him and Potter without saying a word and walked back to her seat at the table.

"Both of you will see me after the lesson!" he shouted after her, 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 now 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 some 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 the others march to the Professor's desk, and then 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 more aware she became of Potter's presence a table away from her, but a stubborn spite refused to acknowledge him further. When the class had emptied and she and Potter sat alone with their teacher, the Professor's face was surprisingly blank. That was almost worse. At first she assumed she was going to get an earful. Though it would have been a first for her, it was 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 do not have another double period with me again, and I cannot give you lesson time to catch up. So tonight and the weekend 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 less than perfect, you'll both fail the unit and I shall be forced to involve Professor Umbridge."

Her priority 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. 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 next lesson?"

She repressed the urge to growl.

"You are two hours behind your classmates and I hate to break it to you, Potter, but you are not special enough for me to waste my time waiting for you to catch up! Ten points from Gryffindor!"

It was clear Potter didn't mind escalating this into something more, which further annoyed her. She silently willed him to stop talking, if anything, just so they could get the lecture over with.

It made sense he'd feel the need to drag it out, just who did he think he was? Her pride in herself had at least been something she had earned, worked hard for, not something she'd just been wrongfully born with.

"If you need me, find me. Don't need me."

As their potions master took his leave, she saw Potter deflate. He glanced in her direction and tried putting on a smile. Whatever attempts at peace-making he was trying to pull went unreciprocated. She marched past him, muttering something foul 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 for a half-sister. So, she didn't find it difficult to ignore him as they retook their positions from earlier and began work again 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 calmly - as possible. She was willing to let Mormos be Mormos, which frankly, 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, musty fumes into the air. That, combined with the nerves involved in getting shouted at, and sweat was readily 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 heatwaves through her system.

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

As she stretched out her back, she caught Potter's eyes on her torso. She fought the need to blush or cover herself up, but wasn't going to be seen backing down. She gave him a second, then when his eyes still 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 figure. 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, he 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... sorry, just, I want to try and get this done quickly. I'm meeting people tonight."

Her eyebrows snapped up to the ceiling. Another 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!"

She shook him from her head completely.

She was better than this.

She wasn't going to risk further detention time. 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. He threw her a painfully fake smile and moved 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. That combined together with the heat and she wasn't feeling her usual self. It was unlike her to be so crass.

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

At that moment, yet another hot flush hit 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 her giving the demand of what she needed and him quickly finding it for her.

Just as they neared the quarter-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.

She raised a brow.

What was he implying? She thought petty insults were below him, as they definitely were for her.

She scoffed at him.

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

Ouch.

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.

He 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 being so far underground made them aware of footprints coming towards their 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'd 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 very 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 the castle, and Daphne, deeper into the dungeons. She almost walked headfirst 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 headfirst into the group of people she least desired to see right now.

Pansy and Draco, sat on the leather settee together, soiling her lovely empty common room. 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 where we live."

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

"See you after break."

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 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.