“I said: how is your ankle?” Daphne responded in a slow, calm, even tone. She was still smirking. It was no great surprise that poor little Potter was startled by her being there. Honestly, if the roles had been reversed Daphne would have been given quite a start as well. Of course, Daphne was rarely in such a vulnerable position. Being in House Slytherin all her years at Hogwarts had taught her to be cautious. Some would say paranoid.
“Why are you on the floor?” From the ground Harriet would get a good look at her bare legs, that were slim and pale with subtle freckles. The hem of her skirt was riding a little higher than normal by design. She wondering if Harriet would catch a peek of her white, girlish cotton knickers from the angle she was at.
“Why would you look for something to throw at me? Juice wasn’t enough for you?” Daphne asked innocently.
She shrugged. “I suspect the same thing you are doing here,” Daphne purred, hinting that it was anything but a bath that both of them were looking for.
“My hair is not permed,” she responded defensively. Using it to her advantage, Daphne flipped her hair. She wondered if Harriet had a thing for redheads. If not, it didn’t matter. She knew that she was pretty and desirable, she’d been taught that lesson in spades over the summer. Harriet desired her, she was certain of it. She just needed to figure out how to make the other girl give into it…