In their seven years at Hogwarts, Daphne Greengrass had spoken to Seamus Finnigan exactly twice.

Their first exchange was in fourth year, when she informed him that the fumes from his remedial hair-raising potion had evaporated both his eyebrows and the tiny patch of blonde hairs along his jaw he'd been calling a beard. She suggested he visit the Hospital Wing; he complied, too upset by the loss of his facial hair to care that he'd just listened to the girl who was well on her way to becoming the town bicycle of the dungeons. On his way out, he thought he heard her whisper to Pansy Parkinson, "He doesn't look half-bad like that." He later found out that she was talking about Theodore Nott and his new haircut, but that didn't stop him from bragging to Parvati and Lavender that a Slytherin girl fancied him. They were annoyed with him for four whole days after.

The second was just the year before, when he was raging about how Cormac McLaggen had a spot on the Quidditch team and he didn't. "People only put up with him because they think he's, like, 'totally the fittest bloke in the air,'" he'd nearly shouted at Dean. Daphne, on her own in the same corridor, turned round, looked at him with flawless eyebrows raised, and said, "Yes." She disappeared back into the rush of passing students before he'd had time to fully process her acknowledgement. By the time he did, Dean was already off on a tangent about his relationship with Ginny.

They weren't exactly ideal conversational partners, the Daphne Greengrass and him: he was a halfblood, a Gryffindor, a member of Dumbledore's Army, and she was pureblood, Slytherin, and well under the Carrows' thumbs. He was, at best, an average student; she was in enough NEWT-level courses to pass for a Ravenclaw (although the jury was out on how well she was doing in said courses). His mam had struggled to keep them afloat after his dad left; she had two parents with gold enough to fill a small sea. He was interesting and personable and funny, and, as far as he could tell, she was nothing but a stupendously pretty face. They had less in common than a leprechaun and a pygmy puff. And yet, for reasons far beyond anything his imagination could dream up, she had just pulled him into a side corridor. Her hand was still in his, neat nails pressed against his rough palm.

He let go.

Quickly.

She seemed to understand. Her newly freed hand went to her mouth, thumb resting on her lips, as if to hide any movement from the sea of students changing classes just beyond the corridor's mouth. Without thinking, he echoed the gesture, cupping his hand along his jaw. Her eyes (green, he noticed, just like her name) flicked towards the movement but returned just as swiftly to his own. Voice low enough that he had to strain to hear it, she said, "The Carrows know it was you."

A lump rose in his throat, but he swallowed it back down without much difficulty. They'd obviously told her to try and make him nervous, get a confession out, but there was no way it would work. One, they hadn't once yet correctly guessed the minds behind all of the graffiti and classroom disruptions, and it was unlikely they'd started catching on now. Two, Daphne Greengrass was quite possibly the least threatening person at Hogwarts. "Know what was me, exactly?"

"The bathroom."

The lump returned with a vengeance. The accusation was far more accurate than he'd expected. "Oh." Her lips pursed at his answer. The pucker was just barely visible behind her tightened fingers, but it imbued him with confidence. Maybe his nonchalance act was working and her scowl was one of doubt. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She said nothing, just stared at him, a thin line forming between her eyebrows. He returned the look, leaning against the brick wall behind him in an attempt to appear relaxed. The movement brought their lower bodies considerably closer together. Anyone looking would be a bit perplexed about why he was getting cosy with a Slytherin, but Seamus doubted anyone cared what was happening in a corridor whose prize feature was a statue of Alberich of Nibelungen.

Finally, after many a sigh and suppressed noise of dismay, she said, "The pigs. They know you put the pigs in the dungeon lavatory. If they can get you to confess to it, Snape's given them permission to do whatever they want with you. I don't know who told them it was you, but..."

It was his turn to stiffen up. "But what? You wanted to rub it in my face anyway, just because you could? Wanted to beat Parkinson to it so I know that you're a big bad Slytherin, too, not just her and Head Boy Zabini's little lapdog? Job well done, then. You've succeeded"

"Look," her breathing sped up, shallowed. Knuckles turning white and cheeks red, she said, "I just wanted to tell you, and now I have." She looked over her shoulder at the quickly thinning crowd, readjusted her bag. In what almost passed for a normal, snooty tone, she finished, "Wait a minute so we don't walk into Muggle Studies together, okay?"

He blinked hard. Civility, as condescending as it had been, wasn't exactly what he'd expected. "Okay."

By the time he thought to lower his hand from his cheek, she was gone.

…

"Seamus." A small hand struck his left shoulder blade. "You have to get up. Seamus, get up."

Without much knowing why, Seamus rose to his feet. Lavender kicked his calf, urging him to stand in front of his desk as protocol required. The she-Carrow stared with her little piggy eyes; she obviously expected something from him. Slowly, it dawned on him that she'd asked a question. No idea what, but she definitely had. He cleared his throat to buy a second or two of thought. "Muggles are classified as Beasts because they're… erm. Because they…" Lavender gave a little cough that sounded an awful lot like 'laws'. "They aren't smart enough to understand the laws of a civilised magical society."

"Correct," said the she-Carrow. Her approval was no surprise; he'd recited her lesson almost verbatim. "Now, what other sorts of animals join them in their classification?"

"All sorts."

A few laughs rippled through the room, but were quickly stifled. The she-Carrow looked displeased. "As I've said before, Mr. Finnigan, every dumb animal is considered a beast. A dragon, a mouse, a Kneazle, a pig." She paused, and his heart skipped a beat. "You know all about those, don't you, Mr. Finnigan?"

His heart sped up. Any other day, he would have made a big show about agreeing. Compare her and her brother to the pigs they were. Set her off. Speaking his mind was well worth a lashing or two. But Daphne's warning bubbled to the front of his mind and brought on a second thought. He opened his mouth to answer, but he never got the chance. Somewhere to his right, a female voice rang out, "Professor Carrow? I'm feeling a bit ill. Can Theo take me to the Hospital Wing?"

Theo gave a muffled sigh. So subtly that it was almost unnoticeable, Daphne bumped her elbow against his. Another irritated noise later, he conceded, "She might be dying."

The she-Carrow plopped down onto her desk, coughed, all of her accusatory momentum lost. "Hurry up, then."

The bell rang only seconds later.

Seamus left almost as quickly as if he had Disapparated, passing just behind Daphne Greengrass, who was still in her seat, acting nothing like a girl who had, only moments ago, been on death's doorstep. He tried his best to pay her no mind.

JK Rowling owns absolutely everything, from characters to story. I... do not.

Also, is this pairing even a thing? If not, it is now.