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Author's Note: Yes, I've been gone a while. I hope you haven't given up on me. I apologize, but Uni got very hectic. Don't worry, I'm NOT going to give up on this fic, ever. There are a lot of aspects about it that I enjoy writing. I'm also thinking of writing a Daphne version. There is so much that Harry doesn't see, it's hard to hold it in. Tell me what you think about that idea in the comments, if you like. Thanks for reading, please review!



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There were voices… but he thought he put a two-way impenetrable silencing spell around his bed last night? Either way, it was entirely too early to wake up. Harry rolled over, reaching for Daphne – who he had expected to be right next to him – and effectively smacked his head against something hard and bumpy.

“Oi, mate, watch it.”

His eyes snapped open to see a shock of red hair next to him. “Ron? What’re y’doing ‘ere?”

“He had a bit of a pissfit-”

“I did not!”

“Whatever. We couldn’t wake you – you sleep like the dead, you know. So, Slughorn’s party?”

The smell of cigarette smoke woke him up a bit more, which meant Daphne was still there and he wasn’t hallucinating – or dreaming.

“You’re going with Harry, aren’t you?”

To Slughorn’s party? Yes, at least that’s what he thought. Harry rolled over onto his back and sat up, taking in the scene. Ron was on one side of him, lying on his stomach. He must have bumped his head on Ron’s bony back. Daphne sat at the head of the bed, a fag dangling from her fingertips.

“Yeah, aren’t you going with me?”

Daphne shrugged. “I want to throw the hounds off our trail. It would just be as acquaintances anyway – Granger hasn’t invited you, has she?”

Ron glared.

Harry sighed and then yawned. She had a point. On his second yawn in a row, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He really didn’t get enough rest. How was Daphne all raring to go already? She was dressed properly, hair done, and everything. She even put on her usual slap of make-up.

“No, she hasn’t,” Ron muttered grumpily.

“Sorted then. So come with me, have some fun – a few drinks. Slughorn serves Firewhiskey.”

“Who am I going to go with then?” Harry asked, peeking through the curtains and noting that it was 6:30. No wonder he was knackered.

“I dunno. Anyone?”

Crack!

Dobby stumbled slightly as he Apparated onto Harry’s legs, carrying a tray that was twice the size of his head. “Got your coffees, Miss. Grassy!” The tea cosies stacked atop his head leaned back and forth as he caught his balance.

“Thanks, Dobby,” Daphne replied, taking the tray full of coffee cups from house elf and setting it on the only space left on the bed.

“Anything for Harry Potter’s Grassy. Is you needing Dobby for anything else?” Dobby asked, bowing low toward Harry.

“Erm, no, Dobby. Thanks,” Harry said, taken aback by the elf on his thighs.

With one last bow, Dobby disapparated with a crack and Harry stared over at Daphne, who was settling into her coffee. She paused from blowing on the surface of the dark liquid.

“Want one?”

She got up, got dressed, and got Dobby to bring coffee? Merlin, she was efficient in the morning.

Harry reached toward her with a nod and accepted a cup. Ron was a bit more reluctant. “What did you have him do to it?”

“For fuck’s sake, Weasley, it’s just coffee.”

Carefully taking the cup, Ron sniffed it.

“And anyway, I haven’t had enough time to put the poison in.”

Ron froze, staring at her.

Laughing, Daphne took a long drag off her cigarette. “Jesus, you need to lighten up.”

“What are you doing up so early anyway?” Harry asked. Usually he had to get out Seamus’ blow horn to get Ron out of bed.

“Well, I had to use the loo but Greengrass took over the bathroom and forgot to lock the door – bint got mess-scary all over my hair!” Ron pointed to the left side of his head where there were black patches spotted throughout his ginger locks.

“You scared me – not my fault that your bathroom is absolutely tiny. It washes off.” Ron was appeased, but obviously didn’t hear her mutter, “with Morgana’s magical make-up remover,” under her breath.

Harry grinned amusedly and took a well-needed sip of coffee, hoping that a cupful would give him enough energy to make it through the day. He didn’t like coffee that much, but it was rather necessary considering he only had about two hours of sleep.

“I had to silence him when he started shouting.”

“You’re not supposed to be in here!” Ron exclaimed, throwing a hand up in the air. The coffee cup in his other hand jiggled, dripping a spot of dark liquid down the side of the pristine white cup.

“Well I am. Live with it.”

“I should have went straight to McGonagall.”

“I would have stopped you.” Daphne paused, tipping back her cup of coffee. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

“What question?”

“Slughorn’s Christmas party?”

Harry shook his head with a small sigh. Did she really not have a filter for anything? He wouldn’t be surprised if the first thing she said to Ron was, ‘Want to go to Slughorn’s Christmas party with me?’ After she attacked him with mascara, that is.

Absolutely nutters.

“Fine,” Ron said sullenly before taking his first sip of coffee. With a grimace, he continued, “But only for the Firewhiskey.”

“Brill. I knew you’d come around.”

Harry knew he should have been jealous but, strangely, he wasn’t. He knew that Ron wasn’t interested in Daphne – especially after how he reacted toward any news surrounding Hermione’s love life. In addition, Daphne had a good reason for asking Ron. She and Ron going together would certainly throw the “hounds” off their trail. It was pretty nice of her to choose him as well. Ron was extremely envious of everyone that got into the Slug Club – even after Harry explained how bloody boring it was.

After Daphne finished her first cigarette, she fished her silver case from the pocket of her skirt and held it out to him. He took one without a second thought while he sipped his coffee. As he lit it with his wand, he noticed Ron watching him in his peripheral vision.

“What?” Harry asked, smoke trickling from his mouth.

“What do those things taste like?”

“Erm…” There wasn’t any way to explain it, really.

Daphne chimed in, “Menthol. Kind of cooling like toothpaste.”

“Toothpaste?”

“Right, that’s a Muggle thing. It’s like breathing in really smoky mint.”

“Cool,” Ron commented.

Harry sipped his coffee. It was rather bizarre to see Ron being somewhat agreeable toward a Slytherin. If he didn’t know any better, he would suspect that Ron was coerced but Ron didn’t know how to keep a secret from him to save his life. Harry would catch on right away if there was something up. It was when Ron asked to have a cigarette that Harry intervened.

“They’re addictive, Ron.”

Merlin, he sounded like Hermione.

Ron shrugged and pulled one from Daphne’s offered case, bending the fag only slightly. “Can’t be too bad. I never seen you smoke before.”

“He’s a social smoker,” Daphne explained and then drained her second cup of coffee in a series of long gulps.

Harry rolled the cigarette between his fingers. “Yeah... Social,” he murmured reluctantly. A fag would be really great to have after those bloody frustrating meetings with Dumbledore. He actually considered taking the habit up full time – it was relaxing, after all.

“Just tap the wand to the tip and inhale – the sparks are enough to light it,” Daphne instructed, handing her wand over to Ron, which surprised the ginger haired Gryffindor.

Ron burst out coughing the moment he lit up, dropping Daphne’s wand to clutch his throat. “Blimey! How can you stand that?”

“I think you inhaled a bit too deep,” Harry answered, fighting the urge to smile and listening to Daphne’s badly held in chortle.

“Right,” Ron muttered, looking at the fag with a dirty expression. He brought the cigarette to his lips again and only let out a little cough this time. “Bloody odd, that.”

Drawing deeply at his fag, Harry looked over at Daphne, who was staring at her watch now. Her forehead creased slightly down the centre.

“I should probably get going before anyone else wakes up,” she said, setting her empty cup of coffee onto the tray.

Harry nodded. “So you don’t remember last night?”

That seemed to pique Ron’s interest. “What happened last night?

With a smirk – and ignoring Ron’s prying question – Daphne replied, “I saw your Transfiguration essay on the bedside table. Better get that turned in.”

Never trust a Slytherin in your room.

She stood up along the side of the bed and grabbed the dark sheet that was her make-shift invisibility cloak, which she was sitting on before. Leaning over the bed, Daphne kissed Harry lightly on the cheek. “I’m still skivving by the way – you owe me.”

Harry groaned. “Don’t go too far.” He could just see her traipsing off to London or wherever, dragging Zabini along with her.

“Nah. I’ll be around. Have a few plans to take care of. Wanna join me, Weasley?”

“I don’t like you that much.”

Daphne snorted. “And I thought we were getting on so swimmingly,” she replied sarcastically.

Glaring at the Slytherin girl, Ron didn’t respond.

Harry watched her disappear underneath her invisibility cloak through the curtain. “See, Ron – she’s not that bad.”

“She threatened to rip my bollocks off with her bare hands if I didn’t ‘behave’!”

So that’s why Ron was so agreeable. “Well… she’s quite feisty when she needs to be…” Harry muttered, draining the last of his coffee and setting the cup on the tray.

“Her cigarettes make me feel funny.”

“That’s the nicotine buzz, Ron.”

“Oh.”



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