Lessons (Pairing: Michael Corner/Daphne Greengrass)
Title: Lessons
Character Pairing: Michael Corner/Daphne Greengrass
Prompt: Set Thirteen - x. without a smile
Rating: This chapter's a hard T for strong language and non-explicit sexual situations.
Word Count: 1489 words
A/N: Rated T for some language. I own nothing. Parts 8 through 13 will be told from Daphne's POV.
Summary: 13 ficlets, in which Michael Corner learns you can't judge a book by its cover and Daphne Greengrass learns to trust.
Link to Prompt Table: table here
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x. without a smile
Daphne feels no joy.
Look at him!
She sits alone at the table, stabbing a sausage with her fork. Multiple times.
With Lisa “Dung-breath” Turpin!
She wonders if she could make Little Miss Fire-crotch’s hair fall out and make her teeth green and rotten.
Daphne takes a huge bite out of her sausage, watching Lisa laugh at something funny Michael and Terry has just said, ignoring the sensation of her stomach plummeting out of her body as Lisa touches Michael’s shoulder and arm . . . again!
She suppresses a smile when Michael pulls away from her.
“She’s a troll, isn’t she?”
Daphne’s brow creases as she looks over to her right. “Astoria? What-”
Her younger and far more graceful sister flaps at her expression dismissively. “I know, I know. I don’t normally talk to you at school. I’m only doing this because you’ve been such a depressing sight the past few weeks.” She reaches over for an apple and rubs it between her hands, making it shiny. “You look pathetic, Daphne!”
She snorts. “Thanks for the pep talk-”
The younger girl rolls her eyes in a lazy manner, but she focuses on her sister, peering closely at her face. “How long were you seeing him?”
Daphne clenches her jaw. “Since November. We stopped talking a few weeks ago.”
When she hears no response, Daphne looks over to Astoria, and meets her pitying eyes.
“What, Asti? What the bloody hell do you want?”
Astoria sighs. “Well . . . although you could do with a decent wash, soap and numerous Glamour Charms-”
Daphne glares at her. She plows on.
“-I don’t . . . well,” Astoria lets out a sigh. “I don’t want you to be alone. Nor do I think it’s a good idea.”
Daphne narrows her eyes at her sister. “You think I’d do something-”
Astoria looks at her horrified. “No! Absolutely not, Daphne . . . I simply wanted to be here if you needed to talk to me about him. I know you don’t have friends in Slytherin-”
“So this is some sort of pity party?!” Daphne doesn’t mean to, but she’s shouting at her sister and slamming her plate on the table, causing her bread and meat to fly across the table. “Thanks, Astoria . . . but no thanks!”
Astoria has an absolutely horrified expression on her face and Daphne’s panting again. She stands up and makes to walk out of the Great Hall, but not before she spies Michael watching her, Lisa Turpin’s hand on his.
She sucks in a breath and tries to look as uncaring about Michael as she can, but she’s afraid it’s of no use. She flies out of the Great Hall before anyone can see her cry.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
Daphne sits in the Slytherin common room, desperately trying to keep her mind on her Potions essay. Not that it’ll make any difference; it’s clearly that putrid Potter, Gryffindor’s Golden Boy who has caught Slughorn’s eye-
Maybe a little extra-curricular “tutoring”, eh?
And her Defense lessons have not been going well.
It would do you better, Miss Greengrass, if you came back down to earth and quit walking with your head in the clouds.
Snape, that magnificent bastard, would once again find favor in your talents if you could just bloody focus!
It’s the first of February. Apparition lessons were already rough going, what with Daphne having issues with cackling, horse-like laughter of Lisa Turpin, throwing herself on top of Michael Corner in a not-too subtle attempt to get into his pants.
The emotions that stirred within Daphne as she watched several graceless guffaws escape from “Turnip-Head” had caused her to totally lose her focus on her intended destination of the wooden hoop that was on the floor, much less her determination to actually succeed with Apparition, or her deliberation to perform the maneuver precisely.
Her head falls to the table. She is at her wits end, because the only thing that keeps running through her head, even as she tries to memorize the numerous ingredients for Amortensia, all she can see is that bint’s head trying to push it’s way closer . . . and closer to Michael . . .
“Dammit! Fuck! Fuck! Fuckity-fuck-fuck!”
She violently kicks the chair that’s in front of her at the table; it tumbles to the floor.
“Now, what did that precious piece of furniture ever do to you?”
Daphne purses her lips together. It is Astoria, once again meddling into affairs that she should just keep her pert little nose out of.
“Not now,” Daphne mutters. “Can’t you see I’m studying?”
Since first coming to Hogwarts, Astoria has made it her own personal mission to do the exact opposite of everything Daphne says or does. Today is no exception. She picks up the chair that Daphne had just kicked over and sits down in it. She places her hands in front of her in prim fashion and she blinks twice before she opens her mouth.
“Just talk to him.”
“Who?”
Astoria draws in an exasperated breath. “This Michael Corner fellow, Daphne. Really . . . all this fuss for some poor little Ravenclaw with no money and no proper pure-blood family-”
Daphne slaps her hand on the table. “Astoria, please . . . tell me something.”
The younger girl raises an immaculately curved eyebrow.
Daphne’s face softens, and she’s about to ask her one question, when a whole different one slips out from her mouth. “Why?”
Astoria is clearly confused.
“Why, or maybe I should ask how? How did you get like this?” Daphne regards her with a sad, pained expression. “Remember when we would go play in that little meadow close to our house? You would say that you didn’t care whom you fell in love with . . . that you’d marry the most dashing man that you’d ever meet. And that you didn’t care if he was Muggle or Muggle-born-?”
Astoria gives a little start. “This isn’t about me . . .”
“I still want you to think about my question. Why? How?” She shakes her head. “When did you stop not giving a shit about all this pure-blood nonsense? Why does it matter to you now?”
Astoria falls back in her chair. She clearly does not want to answer these questions.
“Does it bother you, these expectations? Doesn’t our parents’ repulsion for all things Muggle or Muggle-born disturb you?”
Astoria’s face shows no emotion. “It’s just better like this, Daphne-”
“But how, though. How is what they think right? Lucius Malfoy’s in Azkaban. And have you seen Draco lately? He’s looks like something a dragon hacked up out of its lung!”
“Well, wouldn’t you be upset too if Father was surrounded by Dementors, day in and day out?” Astoria spits back at her. She relaxes after a few moments. “”It . . . just . . . is . . .” Her voice drifts away.
Daphne looks at her with a mildly sad expression. “You just don’t seem happy. Even when you’re talking with a prat like Blaise-”
“If I remember correctly, you did more than just talk with Blaise last year.” She leans forward and points to her ear. “I do still hear things, even if you don’t tell me yourself.”
Daphne dismisses her with a wave. “Are you going to be happy yourself? I mean, you love ice cream, and you wouldn’t be able to limit your horizons to only one flavor when there’s such an amazing variety out there.”
Astoria squares her jaw. “But when that ice cream is dangerous to eat-”
“Dangerous?”
Astoria nods. “When it becomes harder and harder to find those different flavors of ice cream and suddenly, the maker starts pulling certain ones off the shelves because he thinks they’re all wrong-”
Daphne blinks. “You’re adopting our parents’ views on things because of everything that’s going on right now?”
Her sister says nothing in direct response. However, she leans forward again. “It’s easier like this. It started with that murderer Black who terrorized the school my first year, to that Hufflepuff dying my second.” She shakes her head. “And all that stuff about Potter in the papers . . . I think it’s better to be safe.”
“Mother and Father are not right, though . . . not right at all about their views-”
“But they’ll stay out of the war, and we’ll not be targeted because we’re pure-bloods who’ll fall in line with them.”
Daphne regards Astoria’s face carefully this time, and she finally notices the pain in her sister’s eyes.
“However,” Astoria stands up, “I’m not you. So, do what you feel you need to. I won’t tell them.” She nods and leaves.
And as Daphne watches her walk away, she pulls out a blank parchment and writes-
“Michael-meet me in the Astronomy Tower tomorrow after dinner."
Character Pairing: Michael Corner/Daphne Greengrass
Prompt: Set Thirteen - x. without a smile
Rating: This chapter's a hard T for strong language and non-explicit sexual situations.
Word Count: 1489 words
A/N: Rated T for some language. I own nothing. Parts 8 through 13 will be told from Daphne's POV.
Summary: 13 ficlets, in which Michael Corner learns you can't judge a book by its cover and Daphne Greengrass learns to trust.
Link to Prompt Table: table here
-------------------------------------------------
x. without a smile
Daphne feels no joy.
Look at him!
She sits alone at the table, stabbing a sausage with her fork. Multiple times.
With Lisa “Dung-breath” Turpin!
She wonders if she could make Little Miss Fire-crotch’s hair fall out and make her teeth green and rotten.
Daphne takes a huge bite out of her sausage, watching Lisa laugh at something funny Michael and Terry has just said, ignoring the sensation of her stomach plummeting out of her body as Lisa touches Michael’s shoulder and arm . . . again!
She suppresses a smile when Michael pulls away from her.
“She’s a troll, isn’t she?”
Daphne’s brow creases as she looks over to her right. “Astoria? What-”
Her younger and far more graceful sister flaps at her expression dismissively. “I know, I know. I don’t normally talk to you at school. I’m only doing this because you’ve been such a depressing sight the past few weeks.” She reaches over for an apple and rubs it between her hands, making it shiny. “You look pathetic, Daphne!”
She snorts. “Thanks for the pep talk-”
The younger girl rolls her eyes in a lazy manner, but she focuses on her sister, peering closely at her face. “How long were you seeing him?”
Daphne clenches her jaw. “Since November. We stopped talking a few weeks ago.”
When she hears no response, Daphne looks over to Astoria, and meets her pitying eyes.
“What, Asti? What the bloody hell do you want?”
Astoria sighs. “Well . . . although you could do with a decent wash, soap and numerous Glamour Charms-”
Daphne glares at her. She plows on.
“-I don’t . . . well,” Astoria lets out a sigh. “I don’t want you to be alone. Nor do I think it’s a good idea.”
Daphne narrows her eyes at her sister. “You think I’d do something-”
Astoria looks at her horrified. “No! Absolutely not, Daphne . . . I simply wanted to be here if you needed to talk to me about him. I know you don’t have friends in Slytherin-”
“So this is some sort of pity party?!” Daphne doesn’t mean to, but she’s shouting at her sister and slamming her plate on the table, causing her bread and meat to fly across the table. “Thanks, Astoria . . . but no thanks!”
Astoria has an absolutely horrified expression on her face and Daphne’s panting again. She stands up and makes to walk out of the Great Hall, but not before she spies Michael watching her, Lisa Turpin’s hand on his.
She sucks in a breath and tries to look as uncaring about Michael as she can, but she’s afraid it’s of no use. She flies out of the Great Hall before anyone can see her cry.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
Daphne sits in the Slytherin common room, desperately trying to keep her mind on her Potions essay. Not that it’ll make any difference; it’s clearly that putrid Potter, Gryffindor’s Golden Boy who has caught Slughorn’s eye-
Maybe a little extra-curricular “tutoring”, eh?
And her Defense lessons have not been going well.
It would do you better, Miss Greengrass, if you came back down to earth and quit walking with your head in the clouds.
Snape, that magnificent bastard, would once again find favor in your talents if you could just bloody focus!
It’s the first of February. Apparition lessons were already rough going, what with Daphne having issues with cackling, horse-like laughter of Lisa Turpin, throwing herself on top of Michael Corner in a not-too subtle attempt to get into his pants.
The emotions that stirred within Daphne as she watched several graceless guffaws escape from “Turnip-Head” had caused her to totally lose her focus on her intended destination of the wooden hoop that was on the floor, much less her determination to actually succeed with Apparition, or her deliberation to perform the maneuver precisely.
Her head falls to the table. She is at her wits end, because the only thing that keeps running through her head, even as she tries to memorize the numerous ingredients for Amortensia, all she can see is that bint’s head trying to push it’s way closer . . . and closer to Michael . . .
“Dammit! Fuck! Fuck! Fuckity-fuck-fuck!”
She violently kicks the chair that’s in front of her at the table; it tumbles to the floor.
“Now, what did that precious piece of furniture ever do to you?”
Daphne purses her lips together. It is Astoria, once again meddling into affairs that she should just keep her pert little nose out of.
“Not now,” Daphne mutters. “Can’t you see I’m studying?”
Since first coming to Hogwarts, Astoria has made it her own personal mission to do the exact opposite of everything Daphne says or does. Today is no exception. She picks up the chair that Daphne had just kicked over and sits down in it. She places her hands in front of her in prim fashion and she blinks twice before she opens her mouth.
“Just talk to him.”
“Who?”
Astoria draws in an exasperated breath. “This Michael Corner fellow, Daphne. Really . . . all this fuss for some poor little Ravenclaw with no money and no proper pure-blood family-”
Daphne slaps her hand on the table. “Astoria, please . . . tell me something.”
The younger girl raises an immaculately curved eyebrow.
Daphne’s face softens, and she’s about to ask her one question, when a whole different one slips out from her mouth. “Why?”
Astoria is clearly confused.
“Why, or maybe I should ask how? How did you get like this?” Daphne regards her with a sad, pained expression. “Remember when we would go play in that little meadow close to our house? You would say that you didn’t care whom you fell in love with . . . that you’d marry the most dashing man that you’d ever meet. And that you didn’t care if he was Muggle or Muggle-born-?”
Astoria gives a little start. “This isn’t about me . . .”
“I still want you to think about my question. Why? How?” She shakes her head. “When did you stop not giving a shit about all this pure-blood nonsense? Why does it matter to you now?”
Astoria falls back in her chair. She clearly does not want to answer these questions.
“Does it bother you, these expectations? Doesn’t our parents’ repulsion for all things Muggle or Muggle-born disturb you?”
Astoria’s face shows no emotion. “It’s just better like this, Daphne-”
“But how, though. How is what they think right? Lucius Malfoy’s in Azkaban. And have you seen Draco lately? He’s looks like something a dragon hacked up out of its lung!”
“Well, wouldn’t you be upset too if Father was surrounded by Dementors, day in and day out?” Astoria spits back at her. She relaxes after a few moments. “”It . . . just . . . is . . .” Her voice drifts away.
Daphne looks at her with a mildly sad expression. “You just don’t seem happy. Even when you’re talking with a prat like Blaise-”
“If I remember correctly, you did more than just talk with Blaise last year.” She leans forward and points to her ear. “I do still hear things, even if you don’t tell me yourself.”
Daphne dismisses her with a wave. “Are you going to be happy yourself? I mean, you love ice cream, and you wouldn’t be able to limit your horizons to only one flavor when there’s such an amazing variety out there.”
Astoria squares her jaw. “But when that ice cream is dangerous to eat-”
“Dangerous?”
Astoria nods. “When it becomes harder and harder to find those different flavors of ice cream and suddenly, the maker starts pulling certain ones off the shelves because he thinks they’re all wrong-”
Daphne blinks. “You’re adopting our parents’ views on things because of everything that’s going on right now?”
Her sister says nothing in direct response. However, she leans forward again. “It’s easier like this. It started with that murderer Black who terrorized the school my first year, to that Hufflepuff dying my second.” She shakes her head. “And all that stuff about Potter in the papers . . . I think it’s better to be safe.”
“Mother and Father are not right, though . . . not right at all about their views-”
“But they’ll stay out of the war, and we’ll not be targeted because we’re pure-bloods who’ll fall in line with them.”
Daphne regards Astoria’s face carefully this time, and she finally notices the pain in her sister’s eyes.
“However,” Astoria stands up, “I’m not you. So, do what you feel you need to. I won’t tell them.” She nods and leaves.
And as Daphne watches her walk away, she pulls out a blank parchment and writes-
“Michael-meet me in the Astronomy Tower tomorrow after dinner."