Daphne stirred the cauldron in front of her clockwise, exactly three times. She stopped and started on the opposite turns. The potion bored her with its simplicity and her mind wandered elsewhere. After the whirlwind first week, September had slowed, settling down to a routine of easy classes and even easier homework. The only decent competition came from the witch sat next to her and the not-really-boy-who-lived, sat three rows in front of her, who had somehow managed to crawl his way onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
Harry, of course, didn't count.
She stopped turning, set a small timer on her wand, and glanced sideways to see Granger finishing up the sliced marrow, each perfect wafer a thumbed nose to their oily haired professor, who'd had the gall to fail the muggleborn witch two weeks ago for imperfectly sliced ingredients. Granger spent the better part of a Saturday afternoon with a pile of cucumbers and a knife in the Hogwarts kitchens after that, and hadn't stopped until their special brand of Harry occlumency produced the desired skill increases. Snape had yet to find a single fault in Granger's technique since, much to the man's obvious displeasure.
Her wand vibrated. Daphne lifted her spoon from the cauldron, set it aside, and turned down the runic flame.
It was now October and soon she'd be seeing Harry again. One month. It felt like forever.
Granger lifted her cutting board over the cauldron and slid the sliced marrow inside.
After the meeting with Dumbledore, Harry had decided to push back the time for meeting up in person a few weeks.
The last marrow wafer dropped into the cauldron with a small ploop. The potion turned vomit yellow. Daphne wrinkled her nose and began to stir again. She couldn't wait for when all this hiding from each other business would be over. She sighed. Knowing Harry was so close and not sitting beside him just felt wrong. There was no other way to describe it.
Granger pointed her wand at their cauldron and cast a physical shield.
Daphne frowned. "What—"
*BOOM*
A fine mist of unfinished potion billowed past her, coating her face, hair, robes and work surface in a fine layer of foul smelling dampness.
"Finnigan! Weasley!" Snape swept past her to berate the two shocked looking Gryffindors on the other side of the room, now sat in front of a large mess, more resembling a ringed, molten candle than a proper potions cauldron. "Do you two have anything between your dunderhead ears!"
Daphne let the words wash over her and glanced around. All the other visible potions had just faded several shades. All except theirs.
Granger smiled a winner's smile.
Daphne felt her cheeks warm up. Damn it. She should have spotted whatever Granger had. She should have been paying more attention. Instead she'd been daydreaming after Harry like a silly little girl with a crush. "Good catch," she whispered.
Granger nodded, still smiling smugly, and turned away to prepare the bottle for their potion sample.
Daphne grimaced and stirred the potion three more times. Next free period couldn't come fast enough.
Eleven year old Harry Potter sat cross legged on the hard stone floor of the room of lost things, allowing the dust to swirl about his face with every outward breath he exhaled.
All around him sat the detritus of a thousand years of accumulation. Innumerable treasures to the poor and orphaned scattered among the occasional piece that even the lords of noble houses would spill blood over.
The cathedral-like room murmured, silent but for the shifting air around the many runic torches, flickering their slight light across the walls, casting long, distorted shadows through and up the hundreds of freestanding, solid-oak shelves, each one three men tall and more than a dozen long.
A creek shuddered from the far side of the room.
"—you it would work!" Hermione's excited voice wafted through the deadly silent space.
"Yes, yes, you were right, okay?" followed Daphne's moments later.
Harry shifted and watched the subtle shifting of light and shadow though the many shelves as the two girls made their way through the space.
"Where is he?" said Hermione.
"Maybe he's not here yet?" replied Daphne. "Tch. He is never late."
"I didn't say he was late." Daphne's voice sounded a little annoyed. "Just that he might not be here yet."
Harry stood up and walked up the rows of shelves. He leaned around the next shelf. "Well," Hermione started, "when you said—" "—Hi, girls."
Hermione whipped around. "Harry!" Daphne's head shot up.
Hermione bounded forward and wrapped him in a bone crushing hug.
He held her for a few moments before letting go of the excited witch and regarded Daphne, stood a few paces away, holding one arm with her other, and biting her lower lip. He grinned. "No hug, Daph?"
Daphne hesitated, then drifted into his arms and enveloped him in the same warm, mildly desperate hug she'd given him before he'd left to infiltrate the Hogwarts Express. "I missed you," she whispered, and broke away, cheeks red, refusing to look him or Hermione in the eyes.
Hermione stared wide-eyed at Daphne. She opened her mouth to say something.
"Hermione," he interrupted, bringing her attention back to him. "Test for company?"
Hermione hesitated, nodded, opened her mouth… and choked. The happy mood froze. Harry's eyes narrowed. In an instant he had his hand pointed at Daphne, finger tips glowing red, Daphne shoved her wand into the crook of Hermione's neck, and Hermione whipped her wand up to press against his temple.
He flicked his wand into his other hand. Hermione's wand tip glowed red against his head. In one smooth movement, he curved his wand from the floor to above his head. "Homenum Revelio!"
Four outlines appeared in his mind, Him, Hermione, and Daphne, and a fourth off to his side. "Accio humanoid spy!"
A muffled shriek to his side heralded the rapid arrival of their unwanted guest. All three wands instantly refocused on it.
A small, female house elf, dressed in a Hogwarts tea towel, landed at their feet. An elf. "Stop!"
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