(A/N: Hey y'all! Sorry for the long wait!

Quick announcement that I'm going to start adding the dates at the beginning of each chapter, and where they are needed just to make following along a little easier.

I will also be creating a small timeline at the end of this chapter so events make sense.

Enjoy!

December 10th, 1995

Her fingers traced the cobble walls; her nails grazing over the jagged stone, sending both pleasant and unpleasant shivers down her spine. The late-day sun filtered through the tall, hallway windows, illuminating flecks of dust and debris as Daphne and Harry walked side by side through the winding corridors.

The feeling of her fingers grazing over the uneven rock tickled the tops of her digits like small flies that just made her want to curl her finger into her palm. Irregardless of the unusual feeling, Daphne still indulged herself in the sensations during her and Harry's walks.

Walks which had become a surreal, but welcome routine sometime during the week for the two.

They would often be found walking to class together; as well as after all meals of the day. They spent their free periods and the few hours before curfew down by the Black Lake; the Scottish winter snow glinting in the sun and moonlight as they peered over the frozen waters.

Like clockwork, the Hogwarts rumor mill had churned out countless theories as to why they were spotted together so often throughout the week. Ranging from were the two secretly dating? To, was Daphne seducing Harry to goad him into a ritual to earn her voice back.

The latter had become Daphne's personal favorite due to its absurdity.

She and Harry had never discussed the rumors, however, as any lingering bouts of silence between the two during their short trips were usually filled by Harry as he shared various tales of his previous years as they traversed through their multitude of pathways; going as in-depth as possible without revealing something he wasn't meant to: namely, anything to do with his godfather Sirius or the Order.

Daphne would nod along to his stories, contorting her face into various degrees of confusion, excitement, and every other emotion needed to express how she hung onto his every word. Even if she secretly believed that Harry had to have been embellishing his stories slightly, she gave him the benefit of the doubt.

She let her fingers trace the cobblestone walls; her nails grazing over the jagged stone, sending both pleasant and unpleasant shivers down her spine as they walked through the century-old hallways toward the main courtyard, making their way towards the Black Lake after dinner. The late-day sun filtered through the tall windows, illuminating flecks of dust and debris as they floated in iridescent and distorted patterns. At that moment.

They were silent.

Daphne could feel her lips curl upwards into a small smile. She loved these instances most of all. When it was just him and her; proving that they didn't need to talk to appreciate the company of each other. Proving that her disability could be anything but and didn't affect her life the way everyone thought it would.

Daphne's head cocked to the side subtlety in an almost canine like manner as her ears picked up the subtle vibrations of Harry's mouth. He was humming a song, most likely a Muggle one, as he walked beside her. His much thinner lips were quirked up into a smile, not unlike her own. Daphne could feel her face warm at the scene.

The fact that Harry didn't need to interact conversationally with her; that he just needed to be with her, and was still at least content did indescribable things for her self-esteem.

Even when she thought she was being irritating: when her breaths were sucked in with harsh whistles or when she let out body wracking coughs whenever she swallowed strangely, Harry had always been there with kind and concerned eyes instead of irate ones.

But it did nothing to quell the irrational worries that bubbled and cut just underneath her skin like small, infected wounds. Festering, growing, consuming.

Would he be happier if she could respond and contribute to their "conversations", instead of having to rely on facial expressions and generic hand gestures? Would he value her friendship more, if he could hear what was once described as angelic?

Daphne shook her head violently to dispel the ear-aching thoughts, scowling at the ground as if it had stolen her favorite book. In all her years of living, worrying over "what if's," was something she had sworn to never do. Yet the instant a boy comes along, - The Boy-Who-Lived no less - and her personal vow was doomed to crumble down like a poorly constructed wall.

She knew it was childish; that it was completely inane to ponder over such thoughts. Yet they lingered like an offbeat tempo.

A silver flash suddenly appeared in front of Daphne's eyes, glinting in the sunlight like a star. The sight sent a jolt through her body as she whipped her head over to her companion.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" Harry joked, flicking the coin into the air for Daphne to catch as he grinned mischievously.

Daphne caught the silver chunk of money in her cupped hands, watching as the sunlight bounced off of its rough surface before placing it in her pocket. Her shoulders shook in silent laughter at Harry's small jest, the action causing her hair to tumble around her shoulders in a wild display.

Tucking her hair back behind her ear, Daphne bugged out her eyes as she gestured wildly with her hands near her temples as if to say "silly concepts." A low chuckle erupted from Harry's throat at the display; the choppy tones of his laughter leading to another small smile to rest on Daphne's face.

"You know Hermione, right?" Harry asked between laughs. It was a much stranger question than she was accustomed to, but Daphne nodded regardless.

The distinct sound of rustling fabric was quick to replace Harry's jovial notes, the scratchy chime echoing throughout the hallway as Daphne watched Harry curiously.

"Well, I told her about you - or rather she knew about you, and I just told her about us - this," Harry scratched the back of his head with his free hand, his lips quirking awkwardly at his stumbling.

"Sorry," he muttered. Daphne shook her shoulders in silent mirth, her nose crinkling in amusement at Harry's misfortune.

"Well anyway, she felt bad that you can't - well, you know, so we made you this," His pocket search only lasted a few more seconds; a light blue quill and a regular looking piece of parchment now being held firmly in Harry's grip as he held it out for Daphne to take.

"The Weasley twins and Professor Flitwick helped us out with the charms," Harry heaved his arms in a one-armed shrug, his smile never once faltering on his face. "You can consider this an early Christmas gift. An extremely early Christmas gift. From the lot of us."

Extremely didn't even begin to cover it; the snowy holiday wasn't for another two weeks! Even so, Daphne tentatively reached out, grabbing the quill between her thumb, middle, and forefinger; while grabbing the parchment with her left hand.

"It's rather simple, really," Harry explained. "A self-inking quill and some charmed parchment. The feather acts as an eraser."

Daphne's eyes flicked between the two objects and Harry, her aquamarine eyes widening. Her bright orbs watched as Harry grinned wickedly down at her, gesturing with his left hand for her to try out her gift.

Daphne was quick with her writing, the familiar scratching of the quill on the rough sheet resounding in her ears as she scribbled down her short message. Daphne silently wished she wasn't going loopy or losing her hearing, as she swore she could hear the sound of the quill scraping along twice.

The dark ink of her message bled into the page as it rested on the askew colors of the roll of parchment. Remembering what Harry had said about the feather, Daphne gently ran the tuft over the sentence, watching in amazement as each letter in the sentence disappeared consecutively shortly after.

"That's not even the best part," Harry stated, excitedly. With the speed of his beloved snitch, Harry drove his hand back into his pocket, rustling its contents around for a few moments before retrieving an almost identical sheet of parchment to Daphne's

"Go on, write something again," Daphne, although a little confused, obliged as she and Harry stopped walking in the main courtyard of Hogwarts.

Once again, the rough crinkling of quill on parchment echoed twice throughout their current location. Peering up at Harry's sheet, Daphne watched in amazement as her message scrawled itself onto his page; the hoops and curves of her writing-style mimicked perfectly on his blemished sheet.

"Impressive, right?" Harry grinned.

Daphne nodded her head vigorously, beaming up at Harry with a toothy smile as she held her quill and parchment close to her chest. Her aquamarine eyes shone so brightly, Harry swore they were glowing in the sunlight. Her grin was infectious, as Harry's had grown nearly tenfold at the sight.

With a quick swish of the quill's feather, Daphne watched as her words vanished from both her page and Harry's. The words seemed to bleed deeper into the page as they became blotchy and uneven, slowly vanishing over time.

This was far from impressive. It was downright brilliant!

With a vague gesture, Daphne suggested they continue their walk down to the lake. Harry readily agreed, stuffing his scroll of charmed parchment back into his pocket, once again humming his Muggle tune.

With soft pats on her leg, Daphne mimicked his rhythm.

"Now, the basis of learning any language is to master its alphabet."

Harry stiffened significantly at the sight of the textbook gripped firmly in Hermione's hands as she sat down in front of him. Their impromptu sign language lesson was mere hours after the Seeker had returned from his perusal around the Black Lake.

Hermione had spent the prior seven days, eagerly searching the shelves of the Hogwarts library for the material. Upon finding her desired text, Hermione had all but dragged Harry to the library in order to begin studying.

With nimble fingers, Hermione began to flip her way through the textbook, bypassing the table of contents in her search.

"You gave her the temporary?" Hermione asked in her frenzy. Her brown eyes flicked up towards Harry in a near-instant, one of her eyebrows cocked upwards in questioning.

Harry exhaled deeply in laughter, the soft gust of air bellowing some of the thick dust that coated the withered pages of their book.

"No, Hermione," He drawled sarcastically, "I merely spent my time with Daphne discussing Quidditch and not at all giving her something to make communicating with each other much easier."

Hermione curled her nose at the jest; her lips pursing together in mild disgust as she hastily began searching through the textbook once more.

"That was a rather foul joke and you know it," she chastised. With an indignant huff, Hermione shot a much more scornful look, Harry's way.

"Am I that bad at empathizing with others that you thought I wouldn't give it to her?" Despite its accusatory nature, Harry's question oozed a teasing nature. His lips quirked up into a playful grin at the sight of pink dusting Hermione's cheeks.

"It's been a week already Harry, can't you let that silly comment go?" Hermione spat out quickly, a tone of pleading just barely hidden underneath her annoyance.

Harry raised an eyebrow in silent questioning, the silent "really?" hung between them like a heavy cloud. Hermione's glare faltered, a softer sigh escaping her as she flipped through the pages.

"Of course not," Hermione muttered under her breath, ignoring the amused chuckle originating from the boy in front of her.

Her eyes did a double-take over the pages that currently rested underneath her fingertips, her digits tracing over the old paper before quickly wrapping around the edges of the book excitedly.

"I've found it!" She exclaimed. Every trace of annoyance once coating Hermione vanished in an instant.

Spinning the shared book to face Harry, Hermione pushed the text closer to her partner. The Seeker sat up straighter at the site, leaning in close to study the pages meticulously. His once mischievous grin fading into a much more serious expression.

Crudely drawn faces held exquisitely drawn hands up in front of them, each image staying perfectly still. Each picture sat atop a singular letter, the hoops and curves of the writing style resembled cursive writing. They filled the pages in rows of three; the upper left corner of the left page being painted with the first letter of the English lexicon.

Harry traced his fingers over the symbol, vaguely recalling Daphne's use of it while spelling her name. His eyes traveled over each letter and their respective signs, frequently tracing them with his index finger.

"Now, while searching for a suitable book, I did a little research," Hermione cut in, leaning down slightly to catch Harry's eyes.

Harry's grin returned briefly as he peered up at the bushy-haired witch in front of him from over his glasses.

"Was this a Hermione Granger little or a Ron Weasley little?" Harry asked. For the second time that afternoon, Hermione's cheeks gained a distinct reddish hue.

"Well, a Ron Weasley little, is none at all. What do you think?" Hermione shot back, yanking the book away from Harry with a sharp tug.

Harry raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking slightly as he gestured for Hermione to elaborate. With a heavy breath, Hermione spoke.

"After your initial question, I went back to re-read Hogwarts, A History."

"What a surprise that is."

With another sharp glare, Hermione silenced Harry. The Seeker snickered to himself, remaining as quiet as possible as Hermione continued.

"Anyway, upon reaching the section we had discussed briefly, I noticed how it claimed that Hogwarts, and the wizarding world as a whole, has used standard British Sign Language for the past two hundred years," Hermione explained, slowly closing their shared textbook to stare directly into Harry's eyes.

"Reading that had piqued my interest; BSL was invented two-hundred years ago Harry, do you know what that means?" Hermione question, her eyes shining with a strange quality Harry couldn't recall ever seeing before.

With a half-hearted shrug, Harry declined. Hermione leaned over the table, leaving a very small schism between them.

"Harry, if BSL was being used in the wizarding world during the same time period of its conception, that means that wizards - Pureblood wizards, possibly - have been using Muggle techniques," Hermione's face broke out into an excited grin.

"Purebloods using a Muggle invention, Harry. Isn't that fascinating?" Hermione was nearly vibrating in her seat with an emotion Harry couldn't quite pinpoint.

"I guess it is?" Harry replied. His mouth tugged itself down into a confused frown. "Is that relevant in any way?"

Hermione's ecstatic mask cracked at the question. Sitting back down in her seat, Hermione re-opened the textbook that rested between her and Harry.

"I'm not quite sure yet, I'll need to look into it a bit more," she mumbled as she flipped the old pages to where they once rested.

Harry cocked his head to the side in an act of confusion. Choosing to not dwell on the thoughts, Harry shook his head in order to dispel the bewildering ideas.

"D'you reckon we should actually start studying like we planned?" The Seeker urged, gesturing to the pages Hermione had returned to.

Hermione let out a reproachful sigh at the question as she retrieved some parchment and a quill from a bag by her side.

"Can't you be this eager to study for normal classes every once in a while?" Hermione asked with a hint of desperation.

Harry merely replied with a devilish grin, his green eyes glinting with a shine akin to his godfather's impish twinkle as he acquired his own quill and parchment. Hermione let out a much more resigned sigh at the sight.

"I suppose that answers that question then."

December 11th, 1995

The Gryffindor table was oddly silent come Monday morning. The odd bout of chitter-chatter would temporarily fill the soundless void, before slowly dying down into hushed whispers. The only constant that morning being the incessant scratching and scribbling of a quill on parchment.

The fifth-year, male population of the Lion's house had grown stubbornly tolerant of the noise, as the constant scraping was heard long into the evening the previous night. Even so, none of them knew the exact cause of the noise. Each attempt at locating their source of annoyance had resulted in confused expressions and various claims of innocence.

Even the true culprit had claimed his uninvolvement, albeit with a dastardly grin threatening to split his face in two.

He maintained his façade expertly, being quick to hide his misdeeds and his tools as if their discovery would spell out his death. Even as numerous cackles of enjoyment and amusement threatened to erupt from him, he played them off with timed coughs and throaty noises.

It was slowly becoming a game for him. A game that Hermione hardly approved of. She would often send harsh glares Harry's way as he teetered the fine-line of deceit. Her intense scowls seemed to promise his imminent downfall, though the Seeker was hardly worried.

He was a master at keeping his secrets. Years spent with the Dursley's has made him an undoubted genius when it came to protecting what needed to be hidden and watched over since no one else could be allowed to view them-

"Whatchu got there then?"

Almost like lightning, Harry's head shot upwards. His left forearm came tumbling down on top of the message that had suddenly stopped scrawling itself out onto his piece of parchment as he stared wide-eyed at the boy in front of him.

Green irises flickered quickly between Ron's stuffed mouth and curious mask, and Daphne's hardly contained grin of amusement. She ducked her head down as if trying to hide her appearance, placing a hand over her mouth to try and conceal her joy.

"Spare bit of parchment?" Harry sputtered out quickly, his voice wavering as if he didn't believe himself. His eyes flicked back up towards Ron, his mouth fumbling into a shaky grin as if to placate the ginger.

"What for?" The youngest Weasley brother asked.

Harry could feel the bumpy surface of his parchment slip between his fingers as he began to slowly drag it closer to his chest. The sheet slid roughly against the oak tabletop, it's incessant rubbing drawing the attention of a few nearby Gryffindors.

"Just… working on that Charms essay Flitwick assigned us," Harry said with a fake smirk. With a quick flick of his wrist, Harry's quill snaked its way up into his robe sleeve where he pinned it against his skin with his wrist.

Diverting his gaze from Ron's confused frown, Harry watched as Daphne's head reared back in laughter; though no sounds came from her. Even though she was laughing at his nervousness and misfortune, Harry's false smile grew true for a few moments at the sight.

"The essay that Professor Flitwick assigned, he means," Hermione chastised lightly. The witch's brown eyes were scrunched slightly as if in thought, while her lips continuously parted only to press down tightly together shortly after.

Ron gave Harry a gobsmacked look, the slice of buttered toast held tightly in his grip was under the threat of being turned to pathetic crumbs as Ron's hand curled around it.

"What's gotten into you mate?" Ron asked incredulously. Crumbs spewed from his mouth as he sat down in front of Harry, much to Hermione's disgust. "First you're all moody and snappy, now you're starting essays weeks before they're due!"

Harry's joyous mask cracked at Ron's comment, his green eyes snapping over to his best friend in an instant as they sharpened in annoyance.

"I have not been moody!" Harry snapped, ignoring the fact that he had just begun to prove Ron's point. "Or snappy!"

Harry turned to face Hermione as if she could bail him out. Much to his dismay, Hermione winced slightly, pinching her fingers together while mouthing "just a little." Harry barely held back a snarl at the act.

"Suppose I've been insufferable this whole time, haven't I?" The Seeker questioned. The sheet of parchment, which was bringing Harry joy mere moments before, layout in the open as the boy crossed his arms in annoyance.

Ron's mouth flapped uselessly as he struggled to find an appropriate answer to Harry's query. His eyes flickered over the once hidden parchment for a brief moment, noticing the hoops, curves, and overall pristine font of the semi-written passage, Ron's attention was quick to snap onto the scroll beneath in front of Harry.

The Weasley boy's head snapped over to Hermione in a near-instant after noticing the elegant writing of the message.

"You didn't write this for him, did you?" Ron questioned. Hermione's jaw dropped in an appalled manner, the slightest inklings of disbelief mixing in as well.

"You are unbelievable Ronald! After all the work I've done for you and you still can't recognize my penmanship?" Harry rolled his eyes at Hermione's genuine annoyance.

Ron made an odd sputtering sound, more flecks of the toast in his mouth spraying out in every given direction as he mimicked Hermione's appalled look.

"Well, the writing's all hoopy, and curvy, and girly, so unless Harry here decided to take a class on writing over the summer, a girl has most definitely written whatever that is," Ron was quick to point an accusatory finger at the piece of parchment Harry had begun to shove into his robe pocket.

"Oh, and I'm the only girl capable of writing in this whole school?"

Harry had to bite back the scathing reply that threatened to explode out of him. With each retort sent between Ron and Hermione, Harry could feel his ire bubbling in him.

Every time it seemed, whenever Harry needed or just appreciated the simple silence of life, Ron and Hermione had the unfortunate effect of tearing through that silence like a hot knife.

But Daphne, Daphne understood that silence. Hell, she was that silence. With her, Harry could just be. No conversation was needed, sometimes it wasn't even desired. They were merely two anomalies existing at the same time.

And that was fine for them.

"Honestly Ron, is it so hard to believe that just maybe Harry is talking to other people?

"Well, no, it's just - why haven't we heard of this person?"

"Maybe it's just you who hasn't heard of this person!"

"Are you saying you know who Harry is talking to you!?"

Harry's hand curled tightly around the old wood of the great hall table. Why couldn't these two just be quiet? Just for a few bloody minutes.

"Maybe I am!"

"And neither of you thought to tell me!?"

"It's not my job to tell you who Harry is talking to -"

"I'm your guys' best friend -"

Harry stood up in the blink of an eye, his face contorting into a thunderous scowl as the bench beneath him scrapped along the stone floors with an ear-splitting screech.

"WOULD YOU TWO JUST KNOCK IT OFF!" He bellowed.

The silence suffocating the great hall was deafening. Every pair of eyes seemingly bored into the trio, watching as Harry sneered down at the befuddled Ron and Hermione.

The Seeker paid the handful of snorts and cackles from the Slytherin table no mind as he walked hastily away from his two friends. His blood roaring in his ears like a waterfall; searing just underneath his skin as his anger cooled to a dull ache in his veins.

This was hardly the first time Harry had lost his temper this year, nor was it going to be the last he knew. However, he did know that this was by far the pettiest reason he had snapped.

Pushing open the large doors of the great hall, Harry barely had time to register the sound of clacking shoes just behind him.

Through the winding corridors, Harry walked, with no real destination in mind, he let his feet carry him. The early morning sun filtered in through the large, slitted windows to paint the hallways in a striped pattern. Even with his countless turns of left and right, each pathway looked identical, though Harry hardly cared.

He walked for what felt like hours, - but in reality, was a mere few minutes - before stopping in an empty section of the large castle. Harry let himself slide down one of the many walls, ignoring the way it scratched angrily at his back as he rested his head between his knees.

The silence Harry had strived for helped soothe his frayed nerves. As his breaths evened out, Harry's ears finally registered the sounds of shoe soles in the near distance.

The rustling of robes and the clicking of shoes came to an abrupt halt to Harry's right. The unknown person scuffled around for a few more moments, echoing through the barren hallways, they're once hastened steps now much calmer as they neared Harry.

"Suppose you heard all that then?" The Seeker drawled out sarcastically, releasing a heavy breath as he prepared for an onslaught of taunts and insults from whatever Slytherins decided to follow him.

An onslaught that never came.

Harry peeked his head up in curiosity, and while his eyes did latch onto the familiar green necktie of the Slytherin house, they also met the quickly calming aquamarine eyes of his favorite snake.

Daphne had sat beside him along the cobble walls, with her sitting so close, Harry could pin-point the light dusting of freckles that crossed over her nose, ending just on the inside of her cheekbones. Her lips, while a bit thinner than average, helped enunciate her more aristocratic appearance. The small grin she sported showed off her teeth in a dazzling manner, pushing the small gap between her two front teeth into the forefront of Harry's vision.

Harry's downtrodden frown quirked up in an instant at the sight. Noticing how she was holding up her section of parchment, Harry was quick to read her message.

I'm pretty sure the whole school heard all of that.

Harry let out a morose chuckle at the statement, running a hand through his unkempt hair as he pondered over the statement.

"In my defense, they were being rather ridiculous," Harry justified. Daphne's shoulders shook in her silent laughter.

With a swish of her quill, the message faded away, leaving a blank page once more. Harry waited patiently as Daphne scribbled down her next sentence. Her wrist flicked this way and that, being quick with her movements but still remaining diligent as to not make a mistake.

Upon completion, Daphne was quick to show her reply.

Would you like to talk about it?

Harry looked between the parchment and Daphne multiple times, his grin never quite leaving his face but definitely diminishing in size. Harry pondered over the question, letting it mull around in his mind as they sat in a soft silence. In the end, he shook his head in denial, resting on the cobble wall behind him as he closed his eyes.

"No," he said quietly. "I think…"

Harry lolled his head to the side, smiling softly over at Daphne as she placed her quill and parchment back in her robe pocket.

"I think I'd just like to sit here for a while. At least until classes start anyway."

Daphne's grin stretched out into a full-blown smile, and with a resolute nod, she continued to sit next to Harry. She decided to cross her legs, resting her forearms on her calves as she twiddled her thumbs in an idle manner.

Harry smiled to himself at the scene, rolling his head back into a vertical position as he once again closed his eyes.

The silence, once plagued by thunderous ears and roaring blood was now cured by the soft chimes of the wind through the halls and the occasional click of fingernails hitting against each other.

(A/N): Holy moly! I am so sorry for the huge delay in the release of this chapter. Working through the quarantine, along with my other hobbies had me completely swamped lately. As promised, here is our short timetable for events.

December 1st - Harry meets Daphne.

December 2nd - no real events

December 3rd - Harry asks Hermione to help him learn sign language.

December 4th - 10th - Daphne and Harry spend time together. Harry gives Daphne a temporary solution for her inability to respond to him.

December 11th - Ron becomes aware of Harry's secret friend.

Ron will definitely play a part in this story, don't you worry about that. This is the only timetable we will need as from now on, I'll be writing down the dates.

Hope you enjoyed, criticism is always welcome, any mistakes are mine and mine alone, and I hope you stick around!