FICLET: Lessons (Michael Corner/Daphne Greengrass)
Title: Lessons
Characters/Pairing: Michael Corner/Daphne Greengrass
Prompt: xii. i want a clearer picture
Rating: T for the whole series, but this chapter's pretty mild
Word Count: 1494
A/N: I own nothing
Summary:
13 ficlets in which Michael Corner learns you can't judge a book by its cover and Daphne Greengrass learns to trust.
accio prompt table
xii. i want a clearer picture
Spring feels good for Daphne. She and Michael have resumed their relationship.
But, this time, it’s different.
She doesn’t feel impatient about the physical aspect when they are alone anymore, nor does she prevent herself to feel whatever it is she feels for him. She starts to let it happen, and, for the first time, she can be herself.
They sit on a bench outside on a lovely day in late April. They’re enjoying the sunlight on their faces and taking a break from studying. Their sides touch and every so often, their fingers dance close to each other, hidden beneath crossed arms and robes.
She smiles shyly when they touch; the contact sends tingles up her arm.
“What are your plans for the holidays?”
Michael stretches out. “Well, depending on . . .” he swirls his hand around, “you know-”
She does. As beautiful as the day is, the brightness of the sun, the blueness of the sky, nothing is clear. The attacks outside of the castle are getting worse and worse. Her family tells her that it’s to be expected, because-
“-to once again rise to the top of the wizarding world, some blood will have to be shed, some sacrifices will be made,” Her father had finished with the sentiment:
“All for the greater good.”
She suppresses a shudder as he continues talking.
“Terry and I might spend some time with Tony. His family’s got a nicer house than ours.”
“I figured. My family did invite him to their little Christmas ball.”
She notices Michael's face fall a little bit. “My family’s also been talking about moving away.”
Daphne’s head flips around so quick she gets a crick in her neck. “What?” She ignores the fact that she is quite sore.
“They might go abroad.”
She sucks in a breath. “Because of . . .”
“The war.” He looks off into the distance with a sad expression and she wants to reach out to comfort him, but she stops herself. There are a lot of students around them, and public displays of affection between a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw feels not quite right.
But it is different when they are alone.
“My mum,” he continues presently, “isn’t in the best health, you know? And my dad thinks it might be best if they can get to the countryside. And,” he shrugs, “away from all the stress with the increasing violence.”
Daphne nods. “I heard about that boy who was forced to kill his family.”
Michael peers oddly at her.
“What?”
“I’m just trying to figure you out.”
“We’ve known each other for almost an entire year, and you still haven’t figured me out?”
“I’m trying to see the Slytherin in you.”
Daphne stares at him. “The Slytherin in me?” She can’t figure out whether to be offended or not.
Michael counts with his fingers. “You don’t have a problem with Muggle-borns. You abhor violence against them. You avoid the darker elements in your house-”
“I don’t like violent thugs, which is what I would classify approximately three-quarters of our house. And as for hating Muggle-borns,” Daphne crosses her arms and turns to face him head on. “Do you remember our first-year Sorting song?”
He shakes his head. Daphne cannot help but feel her temperature rise.
“Or perhaps in Slytherin, you'll make your real friends. Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends.” She sings with near-perfect precision. “That’s all the Sorting Hat ever sang to describe Slytherin. Nothing in there about having to hate Muggles or Muggle-borns, is there?”
Michael blushes.
“I don’t get along with my family. I don’t agree with them about Muggle-borns and all that rot. So I don’t agree with that stuff here either. But in case you were wondering,” she holds up her hand and starts counting things off for him. “I’m bloody smart. I work damn hard in my classes because it’s my deepest desire to teach right here at Hogwarts. And . . . ” She's embarrassed to admit it, but he wanted to see the Slytherin side of her.
He has already seen it, but she'll remind him.
“I see a bloke I want, I use whatever’s at my disposal to get him.”
Michael flinches. “You mean-?”
She nods and cuts him off. “Whatever - means. A-and . . . before you, it was all for fun, maybe to prove that I was the one in control. Nothing was ever meant to be serious. I just . . .” she gestures to him. “I didn’t know I wanted something . . . different.”
“I think you had me on our first day back.”
She cocks an eyebrow at him. “Couldn’t resist my feminine wiles, huh?”
He rolls his eyes. “Or your radiant personality.”
“You needed my unique spark to set fire to your heart.”
Michael laughs and shakes his head. Daphne does the same before she speaks again. “I’ve never actually liked someone and I almost messed it up because I pushed it too far.”
Michael smiles at her, but sadly.
“Are you pitying me-?”
“No, I’m not, Daphne.” His voice is calm and direct. “It’s just . . . I-I’m glad I was different.”
“You are?” she asks.
“I am.”
A smile grows on her face. “To the Astronomy Tower then?”
He smiles back as they stand up.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
This is not happening.
“I want to stress to all of you,” Professor Slughorn wrings his hands, staring at the Slytherin common room with sad, scared eyes, “we don’t know all of the details of the Headmaster’s death.”
Daphne can hardly believe it. She looks around in a daze. There are groups of Slytherins who appear shocked, but not saddened, a few who look indifferent, tired, and annoyed that they got out of bed for this-
And then there’s Crabbe and Goyle, Baddock and Pritchard, who are smirking and laughing.
She feels a hand slide into hers. It is Astoria's. Daphne watches her sister, and Astoria squeezes her hand and smiles.
Daphne blinks and turns back to listen to Horace Slughorn, apparently the new Head of Slytherin House. He has called on a student - Damien Bowles - who has just asked about Snape.
“ . . . do not have any further information at this time about his or Mr. Malfoy’s whereabouts.”
“What about our families? Are we being sent home? Is Hogwarts closing for the term?”
“Mister McNaughton,” Slughorn addresses the arrogant fifth-year, “your parents are free to withdraw you from the remainder of term. Acting Headmistress Minerva McGonagall will be making the final decisions tonight and will make the announcement tomorrow regarding the status of Hogwarts.”
There is more, but Daphne does not hear it. Slughorn dismisses them and they go back to their dormitories. Astoria tugs on Daphne’s hand and beckons her to follow, which she does as she doesn’t want to think.
The Entrance Hall is full, but Daphne cowers and doesn’t make eye contact with anyone; for some reason, she needs only her sister right at this moment. She doesn’t think she can handle being around anyone else.
The door is open to the outside, and Astoria and Daphne find seats on benches near the castle.
“I expect Hera any minute,” Astoria says softly.
“Are you okay, Asti?”
Her sister turns and faces her. “I don’t know.” She shakes her head very sadly, “I didn’t know the Headmaster, but anytime anyone dies it’s sad, isn’t it?”
Daphne nods. “I’m in shock, personally.”
Astoria looks at her. “Will he be sad?”
“If you mean Michael,” she nods, “yeah. He will be-”
A high-pitched cry sails through the air. Astoria and Daphne both reach out as Hera, the Greengrass' eagle owl, swoops down with two notes tied to her legs.
“Thankfully,” Astoria says, reaching into her pockets, “I came prepared.” Astoria hands Daphne part of a treat, which Daphne accepts, and both girls feed and pet the owl. Daphne holds Hera as her sister unfolds her note . . . and she nods as she reads it.
“Tomorrow morning. Possibly before breakfast.”
Daphne breathes heavily.
“So, you’ll have to send him a message that you'll meet him early in the morning.”
She stares at Astoria in disbelief. “Asti . . . ”
Her sister holds out her Self-Inking Quill. “You should use the same note. That way, he’ll know you’re telling him the truth about our parents coming for us.”
“Astoria-”
She smiles at her big sister and pets under the bird’s beak with her finger. “Do it quickly. Hera should be getting back soon.”
Daphne watches her, hardly believing that Astoria could understand, and she unrolls the note and begins writing his name.
Characters/Pairing: Michael Corner/Daphne Greengrass
Prompt: xii. i want a clearer picture
Rating: T for the whole series, but this chapter's pretty mild
Word Count: 1494
A/N: I own nothing
Summary:
13 ficlets in which Michael Corner learns you can't judge a book by its cover and Daphne Greengrass learns to trust.
accio prompt table
xii. i want a clearer picture
Spring feels good for Daphne. She and Michael have resumed their relationship.
But, this time, it’s different.
She doesn’t feel impatient about the physical aspect when they are alone anymore, nor does she prevent herself to feel whatever it is she feels for him. She starts to let it happen, and, for the first time, she can be herself.
They sit on a bench outside on a lovely day in late April. They’re enjoying the sunlight on their faces and taking a break from studying. Their sides touch and every so often, their fingers dance close to each other, hidden beneath crossed arms and robes.
She smiles shyly when they touch; the contact sends tingles up her arm.
“What are your plans for the holidays?”
Michael stretches out. “Well, depending on . . .” he swirls his hand around, “you know-”
She does. As beautiful as the day is, the brightness of the sun, the blueness of the sky, nothing is clear. The attacks outside of the castle are getting worse and worse. Her family tells her that it’s to be expected, because-
“-to once again rise to the top of the wizarding world, some blood will have to be shed, some sacrifices will be made,” Her father had finished with the sentiment:
“All for the greater good.”
She suppresses a shudder as he continues talking.
“Terry and I might spend some time with Tony. His family’s got a nicer house than ours.”
“I figured. My family did invite him to their little Christmas ball.”
She notices Michael's face fall a little bit. “My family’s also been talking about moving away.”
Daphne’s head flips around so quick she gets a crick in her neck. “What?” She ignores the fact that she is quite sore.
“They might go abroad.”
She sucks in a breath. “Because of . . .”
“The war.” He looks off into the distance with a sad expression and she wants to reach out to comfort him, but she stops herself. There are a lot of students around them, and public displays of affection between a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw feels not quite right.
But it is different when they are alone.
“My mum,” he continues presently, “isn’t in the best health, you know? And my dad thinks it might be best if they can get to the countryside. And,” he shrugs, “away from all the stress with the increasing violence.”
Daphne nods. “I heard about that boy who was forced to kill his family.”
Michael peers oddly at her.
“What?”
“I’m just trying to figure you out.”
“We’ve known each other for almost an entire year, and you still haven’t figured me out?”
“I’m trying to see the Slytherin in you.”
Daphne stares at him. “The Slytherin in me?” She can’t figure out whether to be offended or not.
Michael counts with his fingers. “You don’t have a problem with Muggle-borns. You abhor violence against them. You avoid the darker elements in your house-”
“I don’t like violent thugs, which is what I would classify approximately three-quarters of our house. And as for hating Muggle-borns,” Daphne crosses her arms and turns to face him head on. “Do you remember our first-year Sorting song?”
He shakes his head. Daphne cannot help but feel her temperature rise.
“Or perhaps in Slytherin, you'll make your real friends. Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends.” She sings with near-perfect precision. “That’s all the Sorting Hat ever sang to describe Slytherin. Nothing in there about having to hate Muggles or Muggle-borns, is there?”
Michael blushes.
“I don’t get along with my family. I don’t agree with them about Muggle-borns and all that rot. So I don’t agree with that stuff here either. But in case you were wondering,” she holds up her hand and starts counting things off for him. “I’m bloody smart. I work damn hard in my classes because it’s my deepest desire to teach right here at Hogwarts. And . . . ” She's embarrassed to admit it, but he wanted to see the Slytherin side of her.
He has already seen it, but she'll remind him.
“I see a bloke I want, I use whatever’s at my disposal to get him.”
Michael flinches. “You mean-?”
She nods and cuts him off. “Whatever - means. A-and . . . before you, it was all for fun, maybe to prove that I was the one in control. Nothing was ever meant to be serious. I just . . .” she gestures to him. “I didn’t know I wanted something . . . different.”
“I think you had me on our first day back.”
She cocks an eyebrow at him. “Couldn’t resist my feminine wiles, huh?”
He rolls his eyes. “Or your radiant personality.”
“You needed my unique spark to set fire to your heart.”
Michael laughs and shakes his head. Daphne does the same before she speaks again. “I’ve never actually liked someone and I almost messed it up because I pushed it too far.”
Michael smiles at her, but sadly.
“Are you pitying me-?”
“No, I’m not, Daphne.” His voice is calm and direct. “It’s just . . . I-I’m glad I was different.”
“You are?” she asks.
“I am.”
A smile grows on her face. “To the Astronomy Tower then?”
He smiles back as they stand up.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
This is not happening.
“I want to stress to all of you,” Professor Slughorn wrings his hands, staring at the Slytherin common room with sad, scared eyes, “we don’t know all of the details of the Headmaster’s death.”
Daphne can hardly believe it. She looks around in a daze. There are groups of Slytherins who appear shocked, but not saddened, a few who look indifferent, tired, and annoyed that they got out of bed for this-
And then there’s Crabbe and Goyle, Baddock and Pritchard, who are smirking and laughing.
She feels a hand slide into hers. It is Astoria's. Daphne watches her sister, and Astoria squeezes her hand and smiles.
Daphne blinks and turns back to listen to Horace Slughorn, apparently the new Head of Slytherin House. He has called on a student - Damien Bowles - who has just asked about Snape.
“ . . . do not have any further information at this time about his or Mr. Malfoy’s whereabouts.”
“What about our families? Are we being sent home? Is Hogwarts closing for the term?”
“Mister McNaughton,” Slughorn addresses the arrogant fifth-year, “your parents are free to withdraw you from the remainder of term. Acting Headmistress Minerva McGonagall will be making the final decisions tonight and will make the announcement tomorrow regarding the status of Hogwarts.”
There is more, but Daphne does not hear it. Slughorn dismisses them and they go back to their dormitories. Astoria tugs on Daphne’s hand and beckons her to follow, which she does as she doesn’t want to think.
The Entrance Hall is full, but Daphne cowers and doesn’t make eye contact with anyone; for some reason, she needs only her sister right at this moment. She doesn’t think she can handle being around anyone else.
The door is open to the outside, and Astoria and Daphne find seats on benches near the castle.
“I expect Hera any minute,” Astoria says softly.
“Are you okay, Asti?”
Her sister turns and faces her. “I don’t know.” She shakes her head very sadly, “I didn’t know the Headmaster, but anytime anyone dies it’s sad, isn’t it?”
Daphne nods. “I’m in shock, personally.”
Astoria looks at her. “Will he be sad?”
“If you mean Michael,” she nods, “yeah. He will be-”
A high-pitched cry sails through the air. Astoria and Daphne both reach out as Hera, the Greengrass' eagle owl, swoops down with two notes tied to her legs.
“Thankfully,” Astoria says, reaching into her pockets, “I came prepared.” Astoria hands Daphne part of a treat, which Daphne accepts, and both girls feed and pet the owl. Daphne holds Hera as her sister unfolds her note . . . and she nods as she reads it.
“Tomorrow morning. Possibly before breakfast.”
Daphne breathes heavily.
“So, you’ll have to send him a message that you'll meet him early in the morning.”
She stares at Astoria in disbelief. “Asti . . . ”
Her sister holds out her Self-Inking Quill. “You should use the same note. That way, he’ll know you’re telling him the truth about our parents coming for us.”
“Astoria-”
She smiles at her big sister and pets under the bird’s beak with her finger. “Do it quickly. Hera should be getting back soon.”
Daphne watches her, hardly believing that Astoria could understand, and she unrolls the note and begins writing his name.