Chapter Text
It starts, almost pleasantly so, with a trip to Hogsmeade.
It's an excellent end to their first week back at school. Daniel spends the day in Hogsmeade with his friends, walking around the famous village with content smiles and easy chatter. They're here legally, now, and there isn't a need to go through murky passageways to visit the village.
The trip is pleasant. Robyn and Kevin gush over the brooms displayed at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Ivy nearly blows her entire allowance on the sweets at Honeydukes'. Aria is fascinated by a book on dueling she finds in Flourish and Blotts, and they practically have to drag Daniel out of the potions ingredients shop before he makes a series of unfortunate financial decisions.
Granted, the year hasn't started off on such a cheerful note. He visited Mum in Azkaban: that alone is enough to send him into an unhappy state, longing for the comfort of the halls of Hogwarts once more.
But he and Aria walk side by side the entire time they're in Hogsmeade. She pulls him by the arm to show him a book she finds or to sample a piece of candy, and he discovers that she's alright with the way he rests an arm on her back whenever the situation allows it.
Daniel is hopeful. He's almost cheered by the concept of a not-quite-crush. Maybe if he's brave, he'll ask Aria to the village again—without the company of their friends. Maybe if fate permits.
But it doesn't.
And suddenly there is a burning tree and a man in a mask. Suddenly, there is an investigator from the Ministry and whispers of NOTME, and suddenly there is a man in a white hat whispering threats to Daniel over a blasted Skeleton Key.
The year is going to shit, and whatever comfort Daniel finds in his friends is suddenly gone.
Robyn, Lottie, and Kevin are sympathetic, but they're from stable, unproblematic families: they've got no clue what kind of weight the Page name bears in the Muggle world. They don't know what would happen to him if anyone ever found out about his family.
Ivy, although well-meaning, is suddenly all up in his business. She picks a fight with him over secrets in Charms. He picks a fight with her over messing with advanced magic in Herbology, and then another fight in the Greenhouse about friendship. With a few sharp words, the sincerity in Ivy's eyes turns suddenly stomach-churning.
The only comfort he has lately is Elliot Evers. Elliot, who sees him. Elliot, who sees his potential. He, if nobody else, understands.
But Aria...
The incident happens in a blur.
They walk into the Great Hall to find Cassandra holding a paper open in her lap, reading out to the entire Slytherin table. The faces of his family are painted across the front page. Fischer and Colby are grinning. Cassandra is smirking, victorious and cruel.
Just like that, the entire school knows. His secret is out. Now there will never be a chance to keep his head down and graduate without any trouble. It's his nightmare, and now it has come to fruition.
And Daniel snaps.
He doesn't know when he started firing a Sectumsempra toward Cassandra and the Frey twins, but his wand is out before he knows it. The students gathered in the Great Hall scatter, panicked, when they break out into full-on fighting. As Daniel dodges the twins' hexes and jinxes, he vaguely registers Cassandra running off—to snitch, no doubt. He sees Ivy yelling at them to stop. Daniel doesn't: he fires spell after spell, driving back at the twins with a ferocity that even he knows is uncharacteristic of him. Plates fly. Goblets shatter. They are yelling insults at each other over the sound of magic whizzing in the air.
And then, with a single, well-placed Expulso, Daniel and the twins crash flat onto their backs. He sees Fischer raise his wand, furiously cursing at whoever had interrupted their fight, but it's torn out of his grip with a simple Expelliarmus. Daniel moves to cast a Stupefy. His wand is pulled from his hand, too, straight into the waiting palm of the intruder.
Aria snaps the wands into her palm. She looks furious as she steps over to Daniel, leveling him with a glare that almost—almost—makes him feel sorry.
"The next time you want to pick a fight," she growls, just as Cassandra comes back with Professor McGonagall, "Make sure you can finish it."
Daniel is sentenced to detention that evening along with Aria and the twins. But detention is the last of his worries. The students in the Great Hall are staring, whispering, pointing in his direction. He feels sick to his stomach. His skin is crawling.
And he runs.
He marches all the way out to the Quidditch pitch. Daniel's ears are too filled with ringing to register the sound of Aria calling after him. He crushes grass under his feet as he stomps. Daniel almost loathes the beauty of the sunset painted over the land, hates it for being so bloody cheerful.
Her hand lands on his shoulder.
Daniel slaps it away.
"Leave me alone!" he cries, whirling around to face her.
The sunset makes everything look beautiful. In that soft orange light, he can trace every bit of confusion and ache in her eyes, and he almost hates himself for it.
"But we're your friends," Aria says softly. "I'm your friend. You know we stand by you no matter what."
She reaches out for him, hovering a hand by his, but Daniel steps back, turning his head and pointing at the castle.
"I don't need friends right now," he rasps. "Go back to the castle, Aria. I'll see you for detention."
"Daniel—"
"Just leave me alone," he whispers. "Please."
She holds his gaze for a second longer. Then her jaw sets. Then her eyes harden, and Aria nods stiffly, shoving her hands into her pockets.
"Alright."
Daniel watches her walk away. He finds a secluded corner in the pitches, buries his face in his hands, and furiously wipes away the tears in his eyes, hating that his nightmare has finally come true.
And despite the terribleness of it all—despite the rumors, the extortion, the threats—Daniel didn't expect her to actually push through with his request for so long.
Aria doesn't talk to him in detention. When they are sent to manually polish every piece in the trophy room, he tries to apologize. Aria doesn't let him. She picks up a rag and goes over to the other side of the room, face carefully neutral, eyes carefully blank.
He figures it'll only last a night. Girls are pouty like that, and he'll apologize when they're both ready.
But it lasts for longer.
Aria doesn't outright ignore him. She speaks to him in class and at meals, as usual, but her tone is clipped and their conversation is stuttering. Which is a strange thing—Daniel is hardly a chatterbox, but he's always found it nice to just talk to Aria. And even if the rest of their friends are still cheerfully dragging him along around school, the tension between him and Aria is noticeably palpable.
And Daniel pulls away.
He pulls away to spend time with Elliot Evers and his group of friends: some sixth and seventh years, who take pride in Daniel's skill with potions and who encourage his curiosity about advanced spells. He does his investigation for Gridley, doing so with a growing foreboding in his gut, and he tries to dodge Kevin's concerns in their shared dorm room at the end of the day.
Everything is still going to shit.
Ivy is there, almost annoyingly so, to tell him that he's spending too much time with Elliot and the older students. Kevin is cautioning him about Gridley. Robyn tells him he looks terrible, and Lottie asks him if he's been getting any sleep at all. His caring, sometimes overbearing friends.
But Aria says nothing. She's leaving him alone, like he asked. And although he's given her a tentative apology, her warmth hasn't returned.
A part of him thinks that Aria is overreacting. He's apologized, hasn't he? What else is he supposed to do? Girls. Honestly.
Daniel spends lunchtime with Elliot Evers once, hanging about the older years in the Quidditch pitch as they whisper and tease. In the distance, he catches sight of his own friends, who are cheering Robyn from their spot on the field.
They are laid out on a blanket. Kevin is scribbling in his notepad, tongue between his teeth as he tracks Robyn's flight statistics. Lottie is engrossed in her sketchpad, leaning comfortably against Ivy. Aria has her hand shaded over her eyes while she watches Robyn do a complex series of twists and turns in the air, beaming broadly.
Their eyes meet across the field.
Aria's smile falls. She turns away.
And something in Daniel's chest stings.
The extortion gets worse. Elliot starts demanding more and more of Daniel's time, pushing him to practice his advanced spells and potions in the abandoned bathroom. Gridley doesn't stop prompting him for updates on his search for the key. Daniel is starting to feel like he's drowning, choking, twisted around too many hands.
And when Gridley threatens his sister, Daniel knows he has to do something about it.
So he plans, which is something he's good at. He plans, and plays it easy with both Gridley and Elliot Evers, and quietly twists the narrative around his own devices, thank you very much. He wakes up. Daniel knows what he's capable of now: wasn't that what Gridley and Evers have been trying to shove down his throat this entire time?
And, because he knows exactly who he is and what he wants to do, Daniel knows he can't push forward without his friends.
Daniel enlists the help of Ivy. She admonishes him—of course she does—but in the end, she takes his hands and says she'll do anything to help. He enlists the help of Kevin, Lottie, and Robyn, and feels relieved when they are immediately on his side as soon as he asks.
He saves her for last.
Because Aria is a talented girl. A smart witch, with a talent for dueling and dancing and, apparently, avoiding him at all costs.
Daniel tries to talk to her at every mealtime. He catches her alone at breakfast—something he coordinated with the rest of their friends. As Aria approaches, he gives her a shy smile and a tentative wave.
She turns on her heel and marches away.
Okay. Ouch. That was maybe a little deserved, but still: ouch.
Later that day, she's still as stiff toward him as she has been these past few months, and Daniel doesn't catch her alone again as the days go by. That was plan A failed, then.
But plan B was a surefire one, and one that would take place somewhere even she couldn't avoid him.
Dance Club was their reprieve. Daniel hasn't been in months, only showing up at the start of the term to learn the tango along with everyone else. It takes a while for him to get back into it. He has to practice with Ivy, who watches him with a knowing glint in her violet eyes as they dance. She's in on the plan. Their gazes are locked on the other side of the room, where Aria is currently dancing with that Ravenclaw boy, Theodore.
Honestly, Daniel thinks, he can dance with her a lot better than that. He's trodding on her foot and holding her too tightly, and Aria grimaces a little when Theodore attempts the lift. She feels unsteady, and Daniel knows exactly how to lift her so she doesn't, and he knows better than to step on her feet and—
And—
She should be dancing with me, Daniel's mind screams.
He knows she makes a beeline for the drinks stand after every dance. Daniel and Ivy snuck into the Dance Club room early, draining half of its pumpkin punch to make sure Aria had to wait for it to refill. He sees her there now. Her hand is on her hip, the other idly tracing the length of her wand.
"Hi," Daniel mumbles.
Aria turns. Her eyes flicker uncertainly around the room—searching for someone to run to, to hide behind—but everyone is otherwise occupied. According to the plan.
"Hi," she mumbles back, scooping herself a glass of pumpkin punch as the bowl slowly refills.
"Spare me a dance?" Daniel asks. He doesn't know why he's shy now. It isn't the first time he's ever asked her to the dance floor.
Aria frowns. "I don't think —"
"Please?" He adds.
Her frown tightens, and she takes a long swig of her juice, turning her back to him while she sets the cup down. "Wouldn't you rather be with your friend Elliot Evers?" she spits.
Something in him bristles at that. Something else winces. Deserved. It hurt, but it was probably deserved.
"Dance with me," he says, and there's a little bit of an apology in his voice.
She sighs. Aria slides her hand into his. Her presence is comforting, secure, even if she is holding his hand loosely and even if Daniel suddenly feels a little shy about pulling her to him.
But the tango rarely allows for shyness.
The music starts: a sweeping, swaying set of strings. Daniel's arm wraps around her waist. Aria rests a hand on his shoulder. The tango is somewhere in between a waltz and a flamenco: it's a combination of complex footwork and slow yet precise steps, each requiring synchronization and snappy movements.
"I know I haven't exactly apologized," Daniel begins, leading her across the floor. "And I know I haven't exactly been a good friend these past few months."
Aria says nothing. She matches him step for step, a minute thread of anger showing through her footwork. She nearly kicks him in the shin when they perform a swinging, sweeping move.
And Daniel, because he's danced with her an endless amount of times, knows that she did that on purpose.
"Aria," he says, trying in vain to hold her gaze. "Please. I know everything is sort of a mess, and—"
"That's not exactly my fault, is it?"
"I've got a plan to fix everything, but I can't imagine doing it without you."
"So you're saying you need my help," Aria says flatly. Daniel gives her a short spin before snapping her back to him, arm braced securely around her middle. Her eyes finally meet his. "After you asked me to leave you alone."
Daniel gives her a lopsided smile. "I'm asking you to trust me."
"Trust you," she echoes. There's a frown on her lips.
He doesn't speak. Instead, he prepares for the first of two lifts, and Daniel's heart breathes out a sigh of relief when Aria lets him hoist her up in a spin. As he lets her down, he gently gives her waist a squeeze.
"I need your help," he admits. "I know how much of an arse I'm being, but I really do."
"Do you?" Aria scoffs a little as she turns her head. "You know all these things, and you understand all these things, and yet you never—"
Daniel sighs. "I know. I never came to you. I never talked about anything with you, and I told you to leave me alone. I know, Aria. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I…"
He trails off. The music has slowed. It has swelled, and softened, and here is the part where they cross wrists and walk in a slow circle. Here, Aria's hair is aglow, her eyes searching his, prompting him to go on.
Daniel is still just a boy.
He is just a boy, confused and far too pressured by things like family and obligation. He is trying to claw his way back from the path of trouble and bad influences. And yet, Daniel is still a boy who thinks things and feels things, and Aria is—
Daniel is still just a boy, and Aria is pretty.
"Alright," she whispers.
The song is slowing. Ending. Daniel pulls her to him. He dips her low, the proximity making his head spin.
Funny. It didn't use to do that before.
"Thank you," he mumbles.
Esme has always teased Daniel about the fact that a majority of his friends are girls. He's never really cared or noticed until this particular year. This particular year, Ivy shows him how she can both get under his skin and warm his heart at once. This year, Lottie shows him her quiet support and gentle concern, and Robyn reminds him of what it means to be bold and fiery.
This is the year Daniel learns of Aria's ferocity, of her loyalty, of her understanding. He's incredibly grateful for his female friends (plus Kevin, somewhere in there) for how they teach him dozens of ways to be brave, no matter how much Esme teases him about it.
But this is also the year when Daniel starts thinking of Aria as pretty, which in and of itself is incredibly, incredibly strange.
"You be careful with your advanced magic," Ivy teases, prodding Daniel on the chest.
"As long as you're careful with yours," he teases back.
Ivy turns to Aria next, excitedly holding up a bedazzled purple Nokia phone. She'd gifted the older model to her. Ivy, completely clueless and yet utterly delighted by any Muggle technology, was happy to receive it. "And I'll do my very best to—what's it called?"
"Text, or call." Aria supplies. "Please do, Ivy. I'd love to hear from you. You remember how the buttons work?"
The look on Ivy's face says she absolutely does not, but she nods eagerly anyway. With a final hug to them both, Ivy runs off to join her grandmother.
The Hogwarts Express, in all its scarlet glory, is still huffing and puffing away. Streams of students scatter across the platform, running into the waiting arms of their families and friends. Aria's knapsack dangles from one shoulder. Daniel's trunk hangs from his hand. She is in her well-worn grey hoodie, and he is left in his equally-well-worn purple sweater.
And, just like always, it is just the two of them.
"So," he mumbles.
"So," Aria says, tilting her head.
Daniel swallows the lump that is suddenly in his throat. "Do you have to go home straight away?"
She grins in recognition, playfully crossing her arms. "Let's say I don't," she says. "What would you ask me to do then?"
Daniel smiles back. "I would ask you out to grab a bit of unhealthy fast food. What do you say?"
Aria hums. Her gaze turns thoughtful. "Will there be any interesting seventh-year boys joining us?" she asks.
Daniel sighs, giving her a lazy smile and shrug. "No. No interesting seventh-years."
"Any criminals, dressed in—quite frankly—unflattering shades of white?"
At that, he laughs. "No. No criminals." He rubs sheepishly at the back of his neck. "It'll just be us."
Aria makes a sweeping gesture of surrender. "Alright, then. Just us."
Daniel has never been so glad, he thinks, to embarrass himself in front of a girl.
The local McDonald's is full of families celebrating the start of the summer. Amidst the chaos of barefooted children running around the play place and adults ignoring their offspring on purpose, Daniel and Aria have found themselves a table in the corner of the room. Aria is doubled over with laughter. Her sleeves are rolled up. There's a stray lock of her hair dangling over her forehead, slipped free from her ponytail.
"Oh my God," she gasps, voice muffled around her burger. "Say it again."
"Nope," Daniel says fervently, reaching over to steal a chip from her plate. "You're only going to get it once."
"Daniel!" The way she gasps his name is confusing and endearing all at once. "Please! Just one more time."
Daniel groans. "That was a horrible idea. I never should've told you about my brother's stupid book of pickup lines."
Aria grins. She fishes a chicken nugget from her box and wiggles it in his face, then drops it onto his plate. "There," she says victoriously. "A fair trade."
He sighs. "Do I have to?"
"You absolutely have to."
Daniel groans again. Then he dejectedly picks up the nugget, gives it a bite, and chews.
"Hey," he drawls. "You and I are like a plate of chips."
Aria's grin is wicked. "Why's that, Daniel? Do tell."
Another sigh. "Because you're golden on the outside," Daniel says miserably, "and soft and fluffy on the inside."
Aria keeps her composure for all of one second. Then she grins, claps a hand over her mouth, and starts to giggle.
"Please don't."
"I'm trying."
"I'm asking you for a little bit of mercy."
"I can't," Aria gasps, and she breaks out into full-on laughter, clutching her stomach, burying her face in the table. Daniel can't help but smile. "I can't, oh my God—"
"Are you finished?" Daniel drawls. He kicks her under the table, but Aria only cackles some more, kicking him back with red-faced glee.
Aria swallows. She gulps down a bit of Coke, smiles, and bats her lashes at him.
Daniel knows she's teasing, but her eyes really do look pretty when she does that.
"Thank you very much," she purrs. "I will cherish this memory forever."
Daniel laughs. He throws his chip at her, she steals a spoonful of his sundae, and they spend the rest of the afternoon bickering over their cluttered table.
At the end of the day, when the sun is pink and low over the horizon, Daniel and Aria walk back to the completely Muggle station. She's got a train to catch. He does too. As magical as school terms and fast food-laden summers are, they have to come to an end eventually.
It surprises them both when Daniel reaches out and wraps a hand around her arm.
"I just wanted to tell you thanks," he mumbles, suddenly feeling a little hot around his cheeks, "For, you know. Trusting me. With what I had to do."
Aria's smile turns somber. "Yeah. You know I would've been there no matter what, right?"
"Yeah." He smiles. "I know."
"If you just hadn't told me to—quote—'leave you alone'—"
"Alright, alright, point made," he groans. Daniel swallows his nervousness and tugs her forward, briefly wrapping his arms around her middle. He squeezes. She smells like cinnamon and travel and a bit of dangerous magic, and her hair is soft against his cheek. "But thanks anyway."
The announcer's tired voice rings out above them. Aria shoulders her knapsack. Daniel picks up his trunk.
And then, with a confusing amount of ease, she leans forward and kisses him lightly on the cheek.
"See you next term," Aria says, giving him a lopsided smile. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"
"Um," says Daniel, blinking rapidly. "Um. Okay. See you."
He cups his cheek, dazed, as he makes his way to his own end of the station. Daniel's head is spinning. His brain—his pride and joy, that thing—has been utterly short-circuited.
And his heart, the stupid, useless muscle, is twirling its hair, kicking its bloody feet, and squealing for joy.