Thursday dawned early for Harry. He was pretty sure it was his anticipation as, unlike the previous day, he was looking forward to meeting his date for the day. It had surprised him how much his date with Susan had changed him, but he knew it was a good change. Even his upcoming lessons with Snape and Umbridge were unimportant, merely annoying for wasting his time.

The smidgen of light suggested it was a little before seven, but he was too excited to fall back asleep. After tossing and turning for a bit, he gave up on getting more sleep. Having a shower, getting dressed and packing his stuff for the day didn't take long and really didn't make much sense since he didn't have a first lesson, but it was something to waste some time.

Sitting down in the common room, only a few others were there and they were avidly scribbling away with a few books propped open in front of them. With nothing to keep him occupied, he became antsy.

Barely a minute later, he left to return back to his room. He knew he had a while to go until breakfast and, well, his pride was still tender from being outrun by Susan – not sore enough to annoy him really, he knew she exercised a lot, but enough that he wanted to close the gap between them. Not only that, but he realised that he wasn't exactly the most attractive boy (not that he actively took note of that sort of thing) and, even though he had spent the last few years eating well (most of the year) and getting some exercise from climbing stairs and running from certain death, there was definite room for improvement, something he hoped "his girls" (as he had started thinking of them) would appreciate.

A quick glance at the Marauder's Map put the staff in their rooms, most students in their beds (all common rooms had a few early risers) and, oddly, Luna in a room opposite the Ravenclaw common room. It was strange, but Luna did always seem chirpy and awake in the mornings, so he dismissed it.

Putting on the clothes that would be most comfortable for a run, navy blue jogging bottoms Hermione had shrunk to his size and a crimson tank-top, he escaped out into the castle, making his way hastily to the grounds before setting off for some laps around the lake.

He didn't have any accurate measure of how far he had run the previous afternoon, but, from now on, he could keep score of his improvements in terms of laps.

A little over an hour later, he set his bar and decided it would be prudent to have another shower and, from now on, save any showering for after his exercising session.

Daphne Greengrass had always been a bit of an early riser. At home, the early bird got the best bathroom, which, in a household of four females including her mother, was a prize worth sacrificing a bit of sleep for. At school, it simply meant she could go about her morning routine unmolested, unfortunately in more ways than one.

Slytherin house was not as mighty as it once was. That much was certain for her. It seemed that the current crop of "Slytherins" were pampered children, made to believe that they should be worshipped and respected because their mummy and daddy were first cousins. Unfortunately, with the revival of that Dark Lord (only fools would believe the Ministry's denial when the evidence was staring anyone and everyone in the face,) the egotistical problem of a few was spreading to the many.

If it were just her, Daphne wouldn't care at all. She could easily prove her DADA grades weren't flukes or due to her skill on her back, unlike some of her fellow students and their Potions grades. Her nicknames "Ice Queen" and "Ice Bitch" were thoroughly earned, in both her opinion and that of others.

Unfortunately, life wasn't that simple for her. Astoria was just about two years younger than her, though only in the year below, a result of August and September birthdays. While Astoria certainly took after her sister, often being referred to as "Ice Princess", all it would take is one of the older boys to forget the unwritten rule that you stuck to your own year.

If that wasn't hard enough for Daphne, she had a third sister who was a little over two years younger than Astoria: Phoebe was in her second year and, the only consolation for Daphne, hadn't begun to interest the boys, to put it subtly. Still, Daphne saw how some of the more animalistic boys eyed the younger ones.

That they were all of the Noble House of Greengrass wasn't of any importance when there was no Heir. Well, technically there was, but he was Daphne's great-uncle and wasn't in any position to intimidate the students.

Finishing her morning routine, she sighed, wishing her sisters had taken her request to be sorted into Ravenclaw to heart. She was glad they were proud of her and aspired to be like her, she truly was, but when that put them in danger...

Her musings were cut short as she exited the common room, intent on an early breakfast, only to spy a lone girl.

Not just any lone girl.

Daphne made full use of the gossip network around Hogwarts. Gossip was knowledge and knowledge was power. Truths and lies had little place, it was what people believed was true that was important. Following on from that, people believed that Luna Lovegood, commonly referred to as Loony, was the person establishing Potter's Harem (or Potter's Whores amongst the foolish Slytherins' who were playing with fire.)

Of course, Daphne knew this was a possibility. Seven girls and there was already a balance forming between the selected. She doubted many, or even any, would pick up the numerological references. That didn't mean she wasn't still surprised that Luna would actually choose a Slytherin to be part of it, not that she would let the surprise show as that would be a sign of weakness, a sign that she didn't know.

'Lovegood,' she coldly said.

'Oh good morning Daphne, I was hoping you would be leaving early as usual,' she cheerily replied.

Whether or not Luna knew how to play the Slytherin game wasn't important to Daphne – that there was a Slytherin in the conversation meant it was being played. 'Yes, I'm often awake early, as are you.' She didn't know if it was true, but bluffing and educated guesses were her bread and butter.

Luna smiled. 'I'm here to discuss-'

'Dating Harry Potter? I know why you're here.' There was no reason why Luna would otherwise be here and forcing herself to a dominant position in the conversation was her natural stance.

'Oh? Well that should make things much easier. What is your answer?'

Daphne already knew she would accept so long as Harry would extend his protection to her sisters. She could play submissive and act like a good Pure-blood wife who looked good but didn't talk. To admit as much would lower herself, so instead she said, 'I know my answer and my reasons, but not yours.'

Luna seemed unsurprised by that statement. 'I admit I'm not too familiar with it, but there is a Slytherin political game of sorts, is there not?'

Daphne barely nodded her head.

'Well, then from what I've observed, it's based primarily on a ranking system, with each year being above that of the year below by virtue of age and experience. Generally speaking, the leader of the year is the most politically connected, usually via parents or other close relatives. The magically strongest generally take up subordinate position, then the rest of the year is organised by political connections.'

It was a simple yet succinct summary Daphne thought. 'Rough, but accurate,' she commented, balancing the hidden compliment with a slight critique.

'Harry's magical skill would place him highly in his own year, if not top outright. The tiers in Slytherin have a leader purely because Slytherins covet political power, so they and the powerful students share a symbiotic relationship whereby they both profit – the leader cannot be challenged by brute force and the muscle, for lack of a better word, form a good political connection. Harry, though, isn't a Slytherin, so it is purely a case of strength and, more importantly, skill.

'That's not mentioning that Harry is a year above her, so her peers are thoroughly outclassed and his peers have no reason to be involved. Anyway, this basically means that as long as he is dating her, she is untouchable unless whoever decides otherwise is suicidal, stupid or both.'

Again, Daphne was surprised, only much more so than before. That didn't mean she showed it though; she rolled with the bludger and responded, 'What about once my sister and he are finished?'

A slight frown appeared on Luna's face. 'It's awfully presumptuous to assume they will end before they begin.' Her expression returned to normal, normal for her that is, as she answered, 'If I am correct to say that knowledge is power in Slytherin, then it should be obvious that the information she would gain would be more than sufficient.'

Internally, Daphne added a few more reasons, but she didn't have to let Luna in on everything, or anything for that matter. 'To make sure we are on the same page, why my sister and not myself?' Sometimes it didn't hurt to be direct.

'Politics,' Luna replied. 'As the oldest daughter, wouldn't your romantic involvement signify an alliance between Houses, which you are unable to do without contacting your father?'

She need not share that her father had given her permission to do whatever she thought was best to protect her sisters – he was cunning enough to get himself out of trouble and he always put his family first. 'Indeed.'

'It's also the case that you have a very dominant personality that I don't think would benefit him.'

'While my sister does not?'

Luna tilted her head. 'As recent as yesterday lunchtime she was starring at him. I believe it began after the first task last year.'

Daphne was quite aware of her sister's crush. There had been something symbolic about the boy versus the dragon. Of course, it was nothing compared to the rumours of the boy versus the basilisk, or several other rumours, but they had been just that – rumours. As she knew all too well, seeing was believing in the magical world.

That didn't mean she was at all happy about this. Daphne knew Astoria wanted to be like her and one of those traits her sister took on was the indifference act, one which could cause... friction. 'Where and when?'

A slight smile graced Luna's face. 'The painting of the fruit bowl at eight for breakfast.'

Dipping her head, Daphne confirmed, 'Down the main staircase from the Great Hall.'

Nodding, Luna turned and started skipping off, stopping to say, 'Tara!' before going around a corner.

Sighing, Daphne put off her early breakfast. If her internal clock was correct, she had a little under an hour to hopefully get Astoria to be at least... flexible in her attitude.

Harry, having cleaned himself up and dressed a little smarter than he had on previous days, made his way down to the hall. Most mornings he'd find Hermione waiting for him in the common room, but as he normally didn't get up early when he didn't have a lesson (unless he had homework to do,) she wasn't there.

Making the journey by himself was odd. He had done it before, though not often. Honestly, he didn't like being by himself as it brought him back to his childhood. Sometimes he still awoke at night, panicking as his grim imagination stretched the curtains surrounding his bed into a cupboard. Hermione had said talking about it may help, but, well, how could he tell anyone that he was scared of enclosed spaces because he had truly thought that his cupboard would be his coffin countless times over his younger years?

It was why he loved flying – the sky was his anti-cupboard. Walking around the grounds was nice too, a pleasant and open area that smelled of nature rather than the sterile smell arising from carpet cleaners, bleaches and a few other cleaners that had once called his old "room" home (it was also the main reason he disliked being in Madam Pomfrey's care.) Most of the castle wasn't a problem either and the few years of freedom had curbed his panic attacks to only when he felt trapped.

Shaking his head, he banished those thoughts away so he could try and get in a happier frame of mind. After all, it wouldn't do to ruin his date with angst and Hermione had told him how annoying he was when he was angsty.

Still, it was some how refreshing to look back at how much he'd grown over the years. There had always been lingering doubts, old habits and raw wounds, yet he was dealing with them; in fact, he had dealt with most of them.

Taking the last few steps down, he caught sight of Luna waiting by the doors. A smile grew without him thinking about it as he loudly said, 'Morning Luna.'

She didn't move, her head still angled to somewhere a little to his side as she replied, 'Good morning Harry.'

'I'm not early, am I?' he asked, closing the gap between them to a pace and a half.

Her head shook. 'Your date is waiting for you near the kitchens for eight, if you shall follow me.'

He was tempted to inform her he knew where the kitchens were, but something held him back. 'So, who is it?' he settled on.

'Shan't say,' she steadily replied. 'I'm afraid I don't know too much about her. Honestly, I am a touch nervous the two of you won't get on, but there isn't much choice in this area. However, I think I can say she has a wicked sense of humour and a healthy repertoire of self-defence spells.'

Astoria resisted rolling her eyes as her older sister repeated the instructions she was to follow. Honestly, she was a touch nervous about her date, but it wouldn't do to appear weak in front of her sister and the anonymous boy. She trusted her sister, so when Daphne said it was a decent boy who would treat her well if she played "good housewife", she knew it was true.

That didn't mean she had to be babied about it – did Daphne really believe she would infringe on his masculinity? As far as she was concerned, there were two lines in the sand that he couldn't cross and everything else was fair game: no groping unless there was a betrothal contract and no sex until the wedding night.

After all, her virtue would be important in any negotiations her father entered, she knew that. It was an easy decision if abstaining from what would probably be a poor excuse of pleasure could mean the difference between Malfoy, an arrogant fool with delusions of grandeur, and Goldstein, a respected neutral family with two sons around her age who were both excelling in Ravenclaw.

Why her sister felt the need to remind her about this, she didn't know, but it was getting annoying.

So, it was a welcome relief when Daphne finally ended, asking, 'Understood?'

'Yes mother,' she criticised, but it fell on deaf ears as Daphne simply smirked back.

'Then let's go, one mustn't be tardy.'

'Harry, may I introduce you to Astoria Greengrass, a fourth year Slytherin and the younger sister of Daphne,' Luna airily said, her arm sweeping to indicate the girl awaiting him at the far end of the hallway.

He blinked, surprised, before saying, 'Thanks Luna,' at which point she ceased walking.

His momentum carried him forwards as realisation began sinking in and he became acutely aware of his date's actions and the location of his wand.

Forcing a smile, he greeted, 'Good morning Astoria.'

At least she seemed as surprised as him, her mouth slipping open before asking, 'P-Potter?'

'Yup,' he weakly said. 'Should we go in?'

Her head nodded minutely, mouth still slightly agape. Slowly, he reached over, tickling the pear and opening the door when the handle appeared.

'Ladies first,' he offered, stepping back so she could pass.

Another barely noticeable nod she did and then gracefully entered the kitchens. Following her, they arrived at a small table with a few chairs arranged around it, though a House-Elf removed the extra ones as they approached.

Taking a couple of quick steps, he pulled out her chair and gave her a smile. She turned, an eyebrow raised, and nodded shallowly.

Sitting opposite her, a nervous silence followed.

Collecting herself and eventually getting over her initial daze, she indifferently stated, 'This was not what I was expecting.'

Ruffling his hair, he apologised. 'Sorry, I'm just berating myself for being a hypocrite.'

'Oh?' Not a request, but a sign of interest nonetheless.

'Er, well, the other day I had a go at Hermione for kind of saying a Slytherin had to cheat to do better than her, but now I'm sitting here paranoid about you.'

A wry smile crossed her lips. 'Perhaps you're correct to be paranoid.' Her eyes sparkled when his eyes noticeably widened. 'After all, I believe Professor Moody's favourite phrase last year, bar the one, was, "It's not paranoia if they're out to get you."'

'You're joking, right?' he nervously asked.

'What do you know about me?' she asked instead of answering.

His hand slowly raised to scratch the back of his neck. 'Just that you have "a wicked sense of humour", "a healthy repertoire of self-defence spells" and an older sister.'

'So, what do you think?'

A grin forming, he answered, 'Either you do have a wicked sense of humour or I'll need a healthy repertoire of self-defence spells.'

'You leave a little to be desired, but not a bad bit of wit,' she casually stated, her hand drifting to take a sip from her goblet.

'Didn't know I was being tested,' he quipped, mimicking her as he lifted his goblet.

Hers fell slightly, revealing a teasing smirk. 'When there is a Slytherin in the room, you're playing the game.'

'What game is that?' he asked, leaning back.

'A beginner's guide to politics to put it simply,' she offered, her cutlery coming to hand as she speared an apple slice. 'It's what Slytherins do to pass the time; what about Gryffindors?'

Cutting apart his bacon, he replied, 'Chatting, playing games, a bit of reading.'

'Disappointing,' she critiqued, popping another segment of apple into her mouth. 'That will make it harder to train you, though at least you have some basics already.'

'Train me?' a question asked in disbelief.

Dabbing her mouth with a napkin, she added, 'Yes.' Shifting to the toast in front of her, she slid her knife along a corner, separating it. 'I will give you some leeway as you haven't been immersed with it, but I do expect effort and hard-work from you.'

'What training do I need, exactly,' he dryly asked.

A smirk once more on her lips, she answered, 'Politics.'

'And why is that?'

Her eyes met his, unflinching as she stared at him for several seconds. 'A husband requires skills in politics to manage his household. If we date, it is with the sole intention to see if marriage will be a mutually acceptable outcome. Your actions and inactions leave much to be desired on this front at this point in time.'

Surprisingly straight-forward, it took him a moment to shake the shock and half-mockingly ask, 'Care to tell me so I can fix the error of my ways?'

'Of course, I am here as your support and that is the first. My position is such that I do not make decisions, I merely advise you and you then choose whether or not to follow my judgement. If I am required to make a decision, you must instruct me how I should proceed without bringing to attention that you are doing so.'

Frowning, he asked, 'But when did that happen?'

'You asked if we should go in. In future, something more along the lines of, "We should go in, don't you agree?" is the correct manner. Which brings us onto the second point of domination. In a conversation, both parties are vying for dominance: the ability to lead the conversation to where they wish it to go and the the ability to extract what they want to know from the other person.'

Thinking first, he said, 'You've changed the topic a few times and ignored my questions.'

'Good, you are at least above unskilled. Third point is that knowledge is power. If I have something you want, then I am in control, because even if you have dominance of the conversation, I and I alone set the conditions for exchange. Power is the ability to get what you want with what you have, so the more knowledge you have the more power you have thus the greater your ability to get what you want.'

'So I should be asking myself why you're giving up knowledge?'

Her lips quirked. 'Precisely.'

Ignoring her for the moment, he set about his food, finishing off a couple of strips of bacon and making his way through most of his scrambled egg on toast. 'What you want is a husband who is good at politics and I could be your future husband, so "training me", as you put it, is what you want.'

'Rough, but accurate,' she commented. 'Those last two are a rough guide to politics, a gift of goodwill to you. Back to dating, the male is to take care of tasks of labour and the female the tasks of detail and precision.'

'So I should open doors and carry things while you, er, write letters?'

Her expression dropping slightly, she said, 'Amongst many other things which we can discuss at a later point. Another important point is that you should be comfortable and skilled at flirting.'

'Flirting?' he reflexively questioned.

'Indeed. Care to give me an example of your talent in that area?'

Blushing lightly, he admitted, 'I haven't, er, flirted before, or at least, I don't think I have.'

'What those poor girls must think,' she said lower than normal yet enough to be easily audible to him. 'Allow me to give you an example then.' She looked at his face until he met her eyes, then she trailed her gaze down his body, lingering at the table-edge beyond which was his crotch. 'You are certainly taller than I thought you were,' she said with suggestive emphasis.

That his blush deepened to maroon and a bit of sputtering ensued served only to make her lightly laugh. 'I-I don't think I can do that,' he eventually managed, having calmed down with only a hint of pink on his cheeks.

'It's easy,' she chided. 'All you have to do is pay me a compliment with a subtle innuendo as part of it.'

'But, it's...'

Sighing, she asked, 'Derogative?' His head bobbed softly. 'Well, it is not. The hidden meaning need not be as, shall we say, personal as my example, but so long as you use it as a sign of acknowledging beauty then there is no problem.'

'I, er...'

Scowling, she muttered, 'Too bloody noble,' before instructing him, 'repeat after me: your lips look soft, may I feel them?'

A mixture of embarrassment, relief and humour flared up as he did as he was told. 'Your lips look soft, may I feel them?'

'Good, now this time stare at my lips first, then look me in the eyes as you say it.'

With rosy cheeks, he eyed her ruby-red lips before tilting up to meet her gaze. 'Your lips look soft, may I feel them?'

A sly smile graced her lips as she responded, 'Only if I may make the same offer.'

It gave him a slight surprise, but her arms rose then rested on the table to accommodate her leaning forward and her eyes shimmered with mischief.

'Well, do you accept?' she asked.

Hoping he read the situation correctly, and acting slowly in case not, he too leaned inwards, closing the gap between them to nothing. Despite the discomfort posed by the table, it lasted a fair while before she pulled back.

Looking at her with a hint of a blush on her cheeks, he couldn't help but think she was a suitable princess for a story. She was a bit shorter than him, the top of her head tickling his nose or there about, yet her slender figure made her seem smaller. While not as endowed as Padma or Susan, her robes seemed to highlight what she had while hugging her sides to reveal attractive curves.

It was more her face than the rest of her body that reinforced the princess image though. Her soft nose, pale skin-tone and shoulder-length blonde hair helped emphasise her voluptuous ruby lips and sharp blue eyes. While Susan's were azure, Astoria's were darker, more like sapphire with a hint of passion in them at the moment.

With his eyes always drawn to one or the other, it would be easy to stare.

Yet, she seemed to have the same problem, her eyes meeting his momentarily before dropping slightly and then darting up to start the cycle anew. Somewhat emboldened by levelling the playing field, he asked, 'So you will be training me to be a good husband in front of others, but what about when it's just the two of us and I want to cook us a romantic meal?'

'I,' she began, but paused, thinking. 'I think that would be acceptable.'

Grinning slightly, he asked, 'Would you prefer your chef over or under dressed?' Her blush deepening, he counted it as a win.

'Luna?' Hermione quietly said. The library was fairly empty (being break,) with no one in their immediate area, but she would prefer not to face the steely gaze of the annoyed librarian.

'You're welcome,' Luna replied, still looking at her book.

Hermione had been about to continue with what she was going to say, but realised that Luna had answered her already, which was... odd. 'How?' she asked, unsure of what exactly to ask beyond that.

Luna removed a daisy from behind her ear, putting it in the book as a marker before shutting it, an action which made Hermione squirm in indignation. 'Considering what we talked about, I thought you were likely to approach me about it.'

'But,' Hermione muttered, taking a seat beside Luna. 'Never mind,' she then conceded, deciding to focus on the important details. 'I just hadn't realised how, well, selfish I had been.'

Patting Hermione's arm in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, Luna answered, 'I never said that you were selfish. Rather I think that Harry is unselfish.' She knew that wouldn't appease Hermione, so added, 'I can't be certain, but I think friends are very important to Harry, far more important than he sees himself.'

'What do you mean?' Hermione asked, though she was already thinking along similar lines.

'This may be a little extreme and unsettling, but do you think Harry would kill Draco?'

Her response was an automatic, instant and firm, 'No.'

'Would he ever kill Ron?'

Knowing that, despite their few falling outs, Harry still did care a lot about his friend in the magical world, barring Hagrid and Hedwig of course, Hermione felt confident when she replied, 'Never.'

Luna pulled her arm back, leaving Hermione isolated as she asked, 'And if Ron raped you?'

It was a horrible thought, one she would have preferred to have never encountered, yet her confidence from before was shattered. Despite her darker thoughts recently, she did still know Harry and, while she felt confident before, it was like she was stating that water was wet as she indifferently said, 'Harry would kill him.'

Waiting a few seconds to watch how Hermione reacted, Luna chose to offer the physical support that Hermione often sort out by placing a hand on her shoulder. 'Like the Soft-footed Gilapidogical Shrew, I think Harry values companionship: if it is the choice between spending time with you or spending time alone, then it doesn't matter what the two of you would do, he would rather spend it with you.'

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at what was a rather absurd animal and a rather precise opinion on Harry. Then again, she could easily lose count of the number of times he was dragged, no he went with her, to the library to research something or learn a good spell. Ron had always put up the resistance, while Harry had always offered a token resistance to maintain his middle ground which disappeared once they were moving.

'If it were a choice between a book or spending time with Harry, I would choose him every time,' she said.

Smiling, Luna kindly asked, 'Am I the person who you should be telling that?'

Shaking her head, Hermione offered, 'No, but you should know that you're not wasting your time with me.'

'Oh I'd never be wasting my time with you. Even if you hadn't or wouldn't change, Harry would still adore you.'

'Then why am I changing?' Hermione rhetorically asked as she knew why she was, or at least she thought she did, but Luna's enigmatic smile and lack of an answer unsettled that belief.

Medium note: The continued stream of positive reviews is still greatly appreciated (can't have too much of a good thing.) (A)Storily, I felt like this date needed more context, so will spill into two chapters to prevent excessive squashing and bring into play more Hermione-Luna, Harry-Luna and Hermione-Harry interactions to pad it out. To give a sense of where the story is going, my current (which certainly doesn't mean final) plans have this as primarily fifth-year, followed by a bit of after graduation, followed by a pair of epilogues. Quantity wise, I'm thinking around 20 chapters / 120k words. The selection of girls has also been finalised in my mind and I won't reveal the outcomes of Luna and Hermione (meaning that they both may or may not be one of the seven.) What I will reveal is that there are no plans for any action or adventure – this is a straight-up romcom with a little more emphasis on the rom.

Edit: Huge apology for cut-off, for those checking here first, line is: Grinning slightly, he asked, 'Would you prefer your chef over or under dressed?' Her blush deepening, he counted it as a win.