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Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading and all of your reviews! I think I rewrote this chapter about five times, exploring different variances and reactions and a bunch of other things. After much deliberation, this was the most in-character version and the most consistent with what I have in mind for this fic - and it was the most difficult to write. I hope you enjoy!

Important Note: All that is quoted and paraphrased from the Half Blood Prince is marked with a subscript. The proper citation is below.

Disclaimer: All hail the great JK. That is all.

Duality: Straight Answers

oOo

Harry stomped up the stairs to the Hall of Hexes for his last tutoring session with Nott before the Christmas holiday. He had possibly been through two of the worst days of his life. First of all, he had cricks all up his back from sleeping on a badly conjured mattress for the last two nights, and tired from having to get up to tend to that bloody potion every few hours. He wasn't even sleeping well in the first place. Second of all, Harry couldn't get anything out of Nott, even after he told him that he listened in on Nott's conversation with Daphne. Nott's lips were perpetually sealed on the matter and the questioning only seemed to irritate the Slytherin boy. Dealing with an irritated Nott wasn't that fun either.

In addition, Harry had to attend Defense Against the Dark Arts with Snape earlier, who barked at everyone as they took their practical exams and Ron burnt up half of Harry's final essay for Charms with his botched non-verbal shield spell. He had just gotten done rewriting it, trying to salvage what he had of the thing, and it definitely wasn't as good as the first. He also lost his best quill in the fire, but that was the least of his worries.

On top of all that, random girls kept badgering him with offers of sweets and various beverages that Hermione told him not to drink. Apparently they may contain some sort of love potion from Fred and George's joke shop. And it was all because he didn't have a date for Slughorn's Christmas party, which he almost forgot about due to everything else that he had to deal with. Then Daphne kept giving him the cold shoulder during their study sessions with Hermione, not that he minded. He didn't want to talk to her at all. She was only there to tend to their final potion's project, hand over Crookshank's kittens, and, surprisingly, help Hermione with a portion of her Arithmancy project that was on minerals.

He just didn't know how to deal with her anymore.

Harry paused at the door to the blasted room where he had spent the past two nights, not wanting to go in. He idly wondered if Nott was still irritated and he figured that there was nothing he could do about that if he was. Getting on with it, he stepped through the door and shut it behind him.

Nott was standing in front of the blackboard, a cigarette dangling from his lips and smoke curling around his head as he wrote on the board. Harry's brows rose. Something serious must have been going on because Nott only seemed to smoke when he was… extremely stressed. Five cigarettes were neatly laid out on Harry's usual desk, which was back to its normal size. They had turned their potions project into Slughorn – and Daphne – this morning.

"What's up?" Harry asked cautiously, sitting in his 'assigned' seat.

"You really don't want to know, Potter," Nott muttered around his fag. "Between you and Daphne… I'm not certain which one of you I'd kill first if it came to that."

Undeterred by the casual threat, Harry asked, "Are you having issues with what you're planning for Malfoy?"

Nott plucked the cigarette from his mouth and turned his head to shoot Harry a glare. "No," he said, an irritable sneer ghosting over his face. "Daphne's been… difficult. And you haven't made this any easier on her with your prying."

"Well, if you would just tell me…"

Nott took a long drag off his cigarette, appraising him carefully. "I would if I weren't afraid of having my bollocks bottled and shelved for Daph's personal collection."

Harry's eyes narrowed and he briefly glanced at the title of today's lesson – Personality Types. "Do you always do what she tells you?" He remembered that Nott had a problem with her being controlling. Maybe that would push some buttons and get him to admit some of the things that he wanted to know.

Nott turned back to the blackboard and brusquely underlined the title. It seemed as if he wasn't going to answer, but then he grudgingly said with a reluctant tilt of his head, "Yes. I do."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Snorting derisively, Nott pivoted on his feet and walked toward him, sitting in the seat across from Harry. "Well…" he started with a sigh. "It's a bit difficult to pass her up," he replied, his voice full of begrudging respect. "Formidable opponent."

"Yet she's your friend," Harry said more than asked.

Nott blinked, hesitantly answering after a thoughtful drag off his cigarette, "Yeah. She is." He paused, gazing distantly over Harry's left shoulder. "I'm not close to many people, but…" His eyes were unfocused as if he were fondly remembering something. "It's hard not to like her." He inhaled deeply at his cigarette and seemed to shrug off the memory as he stared down at Harry.

It was rare to see Nott so exposed, almost. Harry wished it would continue because he thought he was finally getting somewhere with one of them, but then Nott's eyes grew cold and focused. It was then Harry knew that he lost the blatant honesty. Back to the same old Nott.

Without preamble, Nott started the lesson and Harry wanted to sigh, almost feeling defeated as he lit a fag of his own. Knowing that he wasn't going to get a word in to put them back on the subject they were previously discussing, Harry tried as hard as he could to focus on what Nott was saying about ego-dominant personalities.

oOo

Harry glared at Romilda Vane as she happily skipped away from him, wishing that she would just go to the special place in hell that was reserved for her. She was definitely an ego-dominant extrovert if he had to categorize her. Not only did she try to shove some sort of beverage or sweet down his throat every chance she got, she wouldn't leave him alone. He had to accept the box of Chocolate Cauldrons, which were likely spiked with love potion, to get her to go away.

These girls were going mental over him and he knew it was merely due to the fact that he was the apparent 'Chosen One'. Or whatever the Prophet or Witch Weekly were printing about him these days. It only served to irritate him, really. He was almost to the point of declaring that he was gay and telling everyone that he was going to Slughorn's party with Theodore Nott. That would definitely get them off his back.

Stowing the tainted box of Chocolate Cauldrons into his bag, Harry weaved around the groups of girls that were loitering underneath the mistletoe toward the Transfiguration classroom. Ron and Hermione had a huge row over breakfast so he had no idea where they had gone off to. If he could have gotten their attention for long enough to break it up, he would've, but they paid him no mind the entire morning. ₁

It all reminded him of fourth year. He was dateless for a party – which was happening tonight and Nott didn't count, unless he was pushed to the point of going mad – while the girl he fancied was going with someone else, and Ron and Hermione weren't getting on. It felt hopeless as all bloody hell and it didn't look as if Christmas was going to be any joy to go through this year with Ron and Hermione fighting like that.

Harry stared over at Daphne when he strode pass her in the corridor. She was standing between Nott and Zabini, watching him, as Zabini bent down to whisper something into her ear. Her smirk and sideways glance along the corridors made his brows furrow, but he continued on to Transfiguration anyway, trying not to give it a second thought. They looked as if they were up to something.

He knew what that expression on Daphne's face meant and it couldn't be any good.

Surprisingly though, Daphne, Zabini, and Nott showed up for class and huddled in the corner, quietly discussing something that Harry probably couldn't be privy of. Ron lumbered in just before class started and sat down next to him in a huff with lipstick smeared down his jaw – from a brief encounter with Lavender under the mistletoe no doubt. Not long after, Hermione entered and resolutely took a seat next to Seamus. She didn't spare a glance in their direction.

All throughout class, Harry gave his best to focus on the task at hand (human Transfiguration) and he tried very hard not to think of all the bizarre problems in his life. Hermione laughed unkindly when Ron had managed to give himself a handlebar moustache and singed off half an eyebrow in one go. And Ron retaliated by doing cruel impressions of Hermione jumping up and down in her seat every time Professor McGonagall asked a question. Half the class seemed to get a kick out of that but Harry didn't find it funny at all. ₁

He watched, his face laced with concern, as Hermione raced out of the classroom on the verge of tears just as class ended, leaving half her things behind. Deciding that she needed him more than Ron – he could be an absolute git sometimes – Harry grabbed her forgotten things and followed her. ₁

It didn't take long to track her down in the girls' bathroom on the third floor, just as she emerged. Luna Lovegood was patting her back in a comforting way; the gerbil on Luna's shoulder gave a melancholy chirp. "Oh, Hello, Harry," Luna said, her protruding eyes catching sight of him as he came around the corner. "Did you know one of your eyebrows is bright yellow?" ₁

"Hi, Luna." Harry paused, holding out Hermione's books. "You left your stuff…" ₁

"Oh yes," Hermione muttered in a choked voice, taking her things and turning away quickly to hide herself from them so she could wipe her eyes on her pencil case. "Thank you, Harry." He could visibly tell that she was trying to hold herself together. "Well, I better get going…" ₁

Just as he was about to offer some – probably botched – words of comfort, she hurried off in a flurry of bushy brown hair. ₁

"She's a bit upset," Luna intoned. "I thought at first it was Moaning Myrtle in there, but it turned out to be Hermione. She said something about that Ron Weasley." ₁

"Yeah, they had a row." ₁

Luna nodded vaguely. "He says very funny things sometimes, doesn't he?" she said, patting the chattering gerbil on her shoulder. "But he can be a bit unkind. I noticed that last year." ₁

"I suppose," Harry said, exhaling a long breath. Luna always had the uncanny ability of speaking uncomfortable truths. "So have you had a good term?" ₁

"Oh, it's been alright." The gerbil hopped off her shoulder and started circling her feet, chirping at and playing with her shoelaces. "Ginny's been very nice. She stopped two boys in our Transfiguration class calling me 'Loony' the other day-" ₁

"How would you like to come to Slughorn's party with me tonight?" The words were out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them, but he didn't feel as if it was a terrible idea after the fact. ₁

Luna stared up at him in surprise. "Slughorn's party? With you?" ₁

"Yeah," Harry said with an awkward nod. "We're supposed to bring guests, so I thought you might like… I mean…" He couldn't think of the proper way to word his intentions. He didn't want her to think that this was a date – he still had Daphne. "Just as friends, you know. But if you don't want to…" ₁

"Oh, no, I'd love to go with you as friends!" Luna said with a wide smile that he'd never seen on her before. It was actually quite charming. She should smile like that more often. "Nobody's ever asked me to a party as a friend. Is that why you dyed your eyebrow? For the party? Should I do mine too?" ₁

"No," Harry responded, "that was a mistake. I'll get Hermione to put it right for me." He shifted on his feet. "So I'll meet you in the entrance hall at eight then?" ₁

"AHA!" a voice screamed from overhead and both of them jumped. Peeves was weaving and bouncing through the corridor, grinning maliciously at them. "Potty asked Loony to go to the party! Potty lurves Loony! Potty luuuuurves Looooony!" ₁

"Well it's nice to keep these things private," Harry said dryly. With Peeves screeching about it, everyone would know within the hour. Actually… it wasn't such a bad thing. At least it would keep the love potions at bay and maybe get Romilda Vane to go away. ₁

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry," Luna said, trying to grab at her gerbil, who was trying to chase after the mischievous ghost making his way down the stairs. "Cricket likes to play with Peeves. I'll see you tonight!"

Harry watched after her, pondering exactly why exactly he had acted on instinct and asked Luna Lovegood to Slughorn's party, when he heard shouting coming from an alcove up ahead. Brows raised, Harry moved toward it to see what all the fuss was about.

"…well-trained dog!"

"For the last bloody time, Draco – I did not send Blaise after you! You're the one that went and opened your big fucking mouth!"

"Ugh – Just admit it, Greengrass! You did! I mean, if you wanted to rough me up, why didn't you just do it yourself?"

Harry peered around the corner to see Malfoy holding Daphne against the wall by the front of her robes. Daphne had a grip on his hair and was pulling his head back, her other hand struggling to dislodge the grip he had on her.

"Well maybe I will!" Daphne gritted out, roughly pushing him back and tripping him with her leg wrapped around his knee. Malfoy landed ungracefully on his arse, taking her down with him. Harry stood still, unsure of what to do. Daphne seemed to be handling herself just fine… She scrambled to sit up straight and she straddled his torso, balling up the front of his jumper with her hand.

Daphne raised her fist, her face set and determined, and Malfoy growled, "Do it, I dare you," glaring at her.

Eyes narrowed, Daphne paused, reluctantly lowering her hand. She pulled him closer to her so that they were almost nose to nose. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she said lowly, her eyes sharp and cold as she slapped him.

Harry's eyes widened.

Wincing, Malfoy didn't answer her; their rough breathing seemed to echo in the alcove. She slapped him again, hard. "Well?" She raised her hand and smacked him even harder, not giving him any time to answer her. Malfoy's cheek was starting to turn red, but he didn't say a thing. He didn't even make a sound. "Does that get you off?"

Was she deliberately trying to get a rise out of him? Harry was quite shocked that Malfoy wasn't retaliating. Usually the Slytherin boy wasn't this silent.

Malfoy's jaw was clenched and he sneered at her. Daphne shook her head, scoffing. "You know what?" She slapped him one last time and it echoed in the alcove. "You're not worth it," she said, harshly shoving him back down where his head made a dull thud, connecting with the stone floor. His eyes were squeezed shut as she climbed off him, standing over him for a split second before she walked away.

Shifting on his feet, Harry swallowed thickly when Daphne caught him loitering at the corner of the alcove. She halted in her tracks, staring at him with an unreadable expression, her blue eyes piercing through him. He wanted to say something but kept coming up blank, not knowing what to think – he didn't even know if he could properly process what he just saw. After a brief moment, she blinked and, without a word, brushed past him, not looking back for an instant.

Harry watched her until she rounded the corner, resisting the urge to follow her and ask her what the bloody hell that was all about, but he figured that it wouldn't go to well considering their track record. He could faintly hear Malfoy getting up from the floor. "Piece of work, isn't she?" Malfoy asked disdainfully when he spotted him, brushing himself off.

Harry just stared as Malfoy straightened himself out, wanting to roll his eyes. "Don't be like that, Potter. I know you're fucking her," he acridly intoned.

It was like someone had punched him in the stomach. All the air left his body and Harry inhaled sharply. How did he find out? "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy." He tried as hard as he could to sound nonchalant, but the breathlessness of his voice gave him away.

Malfoy sauntered forward, standing much too close for comfort. Harry leaned back, staring at him warily. Up close, Malfoy looked really bloody terrible – as if he had been run over by a lorry. His eyes seemed as if they were sunken in to his skull and Daphne's handprint marred his cheek and jaw. His face was covered with pale residual bruises, smattered across his ashy skin and they continued down his neck and disappeared underneath his collar.

It must have looked much worse when he went into the hospital wing if this was what Madame Pomfrey considered healed enough to be released. Did Zabini really do that to him? Come to think of it, Zabini looked pristine as always. How was it that Malfoy looked as if he was approaching the edge of death and Zabini didn't even appear to be slightly injured?

"She told me all about it. Quite pathetic, really. Her love, her savoir – the great Harry Potter," Malfoy taunted, his eyes full of mirth. He smirked. "Though that didn't stop her from fucking me in the Room of Requirement."

Harry bit his cheek, willing himself to unclench his fists. He was very hesitant to believe Malfoy. He knew that he should just walk away, but he couldn't help but grit out, "When?"

"Why do you ask?" Malfoy's smirk morphed into a wide smile "Afraid you got my sloppy seconds?"

His blood felt as if it was boiling and he was certain that the flush creeping up his neck would consume him any moment. Harry rushed forward and pinned Malfoy to the wall with a tight grip on his jumper. "Tell me when, Malfoy!" Harry said, terse and impatient.

Malfoy sneered. "Couple weeks ago. She was sniffing around in that invisibility cloak of yours." – his hands wrapped around Harry's wrists, trying to pull him off – "Couldn't resist, I suppose," he drawled with a self-satisfied quirk of his lips.

His invisibility cloak? He never let her borrow it. Maybe Malfoy didn't know the difference between his and Nott's… It must have been the night that she went all dodgy on Trelawney's sherry. She said she didn't know what Malfoy was doing in there – maybe that was because she was… No, she wouldn't do that. Would she?

"You're lying," Harry accused, shaking the Slytherin boy.

"Do I need to say it louder?" Malfoy quipped. "I. Fucked. Your girlfriend."

His body language wasn't giving away any signs that he was lying, but Harry still couldn't believe him. He needed to be rational about this. His mind whirled, torn between killing him and drilling him with questions and then killing him some more. Then he thought of something… "Wait. I thought you said she fucked you?" Harry asked, his brows furrowed.

"We fucked," Malfoy said sharply, pushing Harry off him and smoothing out his jumper. He wasn't looking him in the eyes like he was before. "What do the details matter?"

A small smile played about Harry's lips. Oh yes, he was definitely onto something. In the back of his mind, he went over every lesson that Nott taught him. "Because. I want to know exactly what you did to her."

"Oh I see," Malfoy said slowly. "Didn't know you were into that sort of thing, Potter."

"Don't change the subject," Harry said stiffly, trying not to take the bait and backing off a few steps so he didn't give into his desire to punch Malfoy's pointy little ferret face. He had to remain calm.

"We went at it like nifflers, right on top of your invisibility cloak," Malfoy said, maliciously stalking toward him. "And afterward, she said it was the most sensational fuck she's ever had."

"Details, Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth, trying to reign in the anger that was clawing through his veins like a raging fire. He backed up a few more steps, still holding back his urge to tackle the Slytherin boy to the ground.

It really was no wonder why he was covered in bruises.

Malfoy faltered, blinking rapidly, and Harry wanted to smile. He was still going to ask Daphne about it, but… from the way Malfoy was looking at him… This was much more satisfying than punching him. He silently thanked Nott about a thousand times for that lesson on body language. "Yeah, I don't believe you," Harry said, cutting Malfoy off before he could say a word. "Nice try though."

And with that, Harry swept passed the blonde Slytherin, feeling much better than he did before. Malfoy was only trying to goad him into fighting. Now he just had to find Daphne – he hoped he could before lunch was over.

oOo

Luckily, Daphne was just outside the Great Hall, pacing and drawing deeply at a dying fag. She finished it in one breath and lit another in succession, vanishing the first with a smooth swish of her wand. Resigned to the fact that he had to do this, Harry walked up to her, searching his pockets for his leather case. "We need to talk," he said, pulling out his case and looking around the Entrance Hall for any onlookers. He got a few glances from a gangly third year walking out of the Great Hall and he inched away from Daphne uncomfortably.

"Of course you would," Daphne muttered quietly, raising an eyebrow toward him. "This is getting to be a bad habit of yours."

Harry lit his cigarette and grabbed at her sleeve, pulling her down the corridor that led toward the dungeons. He didn't want to have a row in public – especially right in Entrance Hall where anyone could see and hear them. "I would stop but you don't tell me anything now days. I'm bloody sick of it."

Pulling her sleeve from his grasp, Daphne scoffed. "I told you that I can't," she whispered through her teeth, walking along side of him.

"That's not good enough, Daph," Harry whispered back, pulling her into the first abandoned classroom that he saw and warding the door.

Daphne blew a long breath of smoke in his face and he winced as it stung his eyes, making them water. "Well what do you want me to say?"

He ignored her question.

"I know that you're not going to give me any straight answers, but what was that earlier with Malfoy?" he asked, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. He inhaled deeply at his cigarette, sorely tempted to get her back by blowing smoke into her eyes.

Daphne's brows rose. "What makes you think I won't give you any straight answers on that?"

"Because you have a bad habit of not giving straight answers period," Harry retorted. "I mean, there's your shoulder, the thing with Dumbledore, Malfoy… the Scrying Concoction. It's a bloody pain trying to wrestle answers from you!"

"Fine, you want straight answers? I'll give them to you," Daphne said, wisps of blue smoke trickling out of her mouth as she spoke.

Harry stared at her warily. There had to be a catch.

"But sometimes it's just not that simple," Daphne continued, sighing. "Dumbledore – that's easy enough. Ask Aberforth. Dumbledore's apparently a conniving bastard – always has his own agenda so it wouldn't do to trust him. But everything else…" She shook her head.

With an impatient sigh, Harry muttered, "If you apparently trust me, it doesn't make sense why you won't tell me."

"Because I can't have you interfering with what I have planned! It would ruin everything."

It was the same old story with her every single bloody time.

Harry glared at her. "You know, when you investigated Malfoy, you were very open with the information. I don't understand - what changed?"

Pursing her lips, Daphne stared at him for a long calculating moment. Harry could practically see the gears turning in her head from the way she was looking at him and he wondered what she was thinking. If only he paid more attention in Occlumency with Snape – he'd cast 'legilimens' on her in a second if he knew how to do it right. It seemed as if that was the only way he was going to get proper answers from her.

"Well…" Daphne hesitated. "I found out that the Aurors have a mole and Blaise's letter must have been intercepted somehow. I've tried sending other letters, but... no response on that."

"So you decided to come up with some scheme to get him arrested yourself?" Harry guessed, raising his brows. Where was she going with that? Sure, yes… the Aurors having a mole was an important piece of information but it still didn't explain why she couldn't tell him anything.

Daphne threw him a stern glance. "I shouldn't even be discussing this."

"No, you should. This is good," Harry said, nodding and hoping she would continue. It didn't look like she was going to though.

Taking a drag off her cigarette, Daphne leaned back against one of the desks. "It's not under control yet, Harry."

He desperately wanted to roll his eyes. "Okay, fine then," he said sharply, ignoring the urge to oppose her because that probably wouldn't lead to any cooperation on her part. It was clearly pointless to ask about what she was planning so he changed the topic to the real reason he was there. "What was that with Malfoy earlier?"

"It was nothing," she replied with a shrug, her tone guarded. "Just a row. We have those from time to time."

"Didn't look like 'just a row'," Harry commented, crossing his arms over his chest. "Unless you're saying that you slap him around from time to time as well."

Daphne's eyes narrowed toward him and she snorted contemptuously. "No, I can't say I do."

Harry inhaled deeply at his cigarette, sensing that she had more to say, but she didn't continue. Breaking the tense moment of silence, Harry muttered, "He said you two… had sex. In the Room of Requirement."

"And you believe him?" She raised an eyebrow and flicked the ashes off her fag onto the floor.

"I'm not sure. I was hoping that you'd give me a straight answer," Harry responded, not quite lying. "It is a little suspicious, considering everything."

"I didn't, alright?" she reassured. "Don't worry your pretty little head about that. He was probably just trying to get under your skin. He's good at that."

"Yeah… speaking of which, he knows about us," Harry said, his jaw clenching slightly.

"Mhm. I told him," Daphne said, taking a drag off her cigarette. "I thought it would…"

"You thought it would what?" Harry asked sharply.

"It was stupid really – an oversight. I got angry at him and I wanted to get him even angrier so I… told him," Daphne said, exhaling a long breath. "He won't use it for anything other than blackmail anyway. That's his style."

"Is he blackmailing you?"

"Not yet." She didn't say anything else.

Harry's brows furrowed and he felt a bit confused. Part of him was thankful that he got a few straight answers from her, part of him was overwhelmingly frustrated, and yet another part of him still couldn't help but ruminate on the question that had been making the back of his brain itch since he saw the confrontation.

Harry dithered, feeling a bit uncomfortable. "Why did you ask if slapping him got him off?" he asked cautiously, cutting through the pungent silence between them.

Blowing out a long puff of smoke, Daphne averted her gaze and shrugged. "He's a violent git, obviously."

Harry pondered exactly how that answered his question. And just as he was going to open his mouth to speak, Daphne interrupted. "I told you that I don't like talking about this," she said, glancing at him and shaking her head. "It's… in the past. Done away with. Nothing good will come of talking about this."

"So that's about your… relationship with him," Harry hesitantly speculated, shifting on his feet. He knew she loathed any mentioning of the subject.

"Maybe," Daphne replied in a nearly breathless voice. She quickly finished up her cigarette and lit another.

Harry's mind was reeling, imagining a plethora of depraved scenarios involving fighting and slapping and the 'said' violent git and Daphne. They must have had some sort of row when her shoulder got injured as well. He wished he could know about it. It made the rage bubble up inside him again when he thought of how her shoulder could have gotten injured considering all of this information.

Yet, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know from the way she was acting – so closed in and jittery, but so open at the same time. He definitely didn't want what he thought might have happened to be confirmed.

"Is that all?" Daphne asked quietly, looking up at him with her brows raised.

Harry took a deep breath and nodded, albeit a tad unwillingly. "Yeah… but you can tell me, y'know," Harry offered. He was still concerned, regardless of everything else. "Anything. If he's… bothering you…"

"I don't need saving, okay, Harry?" Daphne said calmly, tilting her head toward him. "I can handle it pretty well on my own."

Harry bit his cheek, staring at her for a calculating second. He shook his head.

"You're not handling it though. You're just doing with it what you do with everything else." He paused to take a drag off his cigarette. "Avoiding it."

It was quite amazing that she even had the ability to evade her problems. He bitterly wondered how deep her evasion went.

Unexpectedly, Daphne was smirking at him when he looked back at her. "You sound like Blaise," she said.

That definitely didn't make the bitterness fade. "I don't understand how you can tell him but not me."

"I haven't, really," Daphne replied, not looking at him. "He's just… good at getting it out of me."

"So just tell me what you told him," Harry said, once again doubtful that she would.

He heard her swallow and let out a long breath. "It's hard for me," she whispered. "I'm… not ready."

Harry's forehead wrinkled at the centre. "Is it really that bad?"

Daphne nodded and Harry's brows rose.

His head kept replaying the row in his mind, looking for clues. Then he faintly heard the sound of students rushing past the door, making a racket, and he took the last drag off his cigarette. He didn't want to have to leave for class yet – there was still so much he wanted to ask, even if he wasn't going to get any proper answers from her, but he pushed those questions to the back of his mind.

"Well…" he trailed off staring at the door, feeling an overwhelming amount of disappointment building up in his stomach – and, admittedly, a whole lot of pent up rage toward a particular blonde Slytherin. "I guess we should go."

The sounds of students passing by were getting louder.

"I'm sorry," Daphne breathed. "If that means anything to you."

It certainly didn't help, but it was a nice gesture. "It's fine," Harry said absentmindedly, still wondering what it was that Malfoy did to her to cause her to act like this whenever anything surrounding their relationship came up. Malfoy obviously hurt her… but was it in the way that he was envisioning? Or was it something else entirely? It was a little frightening to think of it actually. It made him realize that maybe he cared a bit too much for Daphne, even though she treated him like… this.

He undid the wards on the door. "You'll tell me sometime though, right?" he asked, suppressing the acrimony in his voice and pausing with his hand over the doorknob.

"Eventually," Daphne said with a nod.

He still wasn't sure if he could trust her word.

oOo

₁ Rowling, J.K. (2005). Chapter 15: The Unbreakable Vow. Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (US edition) (pp. 310-312). New York, NY: Scholastic Inc.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading and please review!