Daphne had told him not to wait up ... he wanted to listen, but that didn't mean he was capable of it. She'd been gone for two weeks and then when she did get home she disappeared to see some mystery person. Despite his better judgement, he was worried. Perhaps something had happened in Paris .... perhaps ... He had to mentally shake himself several times over the course of the night in order to prevent himself from falling into utterly ridiculous thoughts. It had better not be that wanker Pucey. A good waste of skin that bloody prat was. There wasn't very many people that Harry bothered to truly dislike, but that idiot was certainly making himself top of the list.
It had been at that point that Harry had grabbed a light sweater and retreated outside .... or more accurately, to the roof. If there was one thing he learned over the time Daphne had spent away it was that he hated the silence of an empty house. He'd spent most of his nights either out or on the roof listening to the sounds outside until he could barely keep his eyes open. Only then did he retreat back inside to an empty bed.
He'd been sitting outside, lost in his own thoughts for roughly an hour before the sound of someone climbing onto the rough caught his attention. By the time he managed to pull himself back to his surroundings and look up, Daphne was already standing in front of him, her hands on her hips and a semi-stern look on her face.
"I haven't seen you in two weeks," he responded, a light smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Did you really expect me to listen?"