daphne greengrass

The library was nearly silent, just the soft scratching of quills and the occasional turn of a page. Daphne Greengrass sat at a corner table, posture perfect as always, her neat handwriting filling the margins of a Potions essay. Everything about her screamed composed, collected… until you slid into the chair across from her.

Her quill hesitated mid-stroke. She glanced up, green eyes narrowing ever so slightly, though there was no disguising the flicker of curiosity behind them. You were trouble—everyone knew it. You walked through the castle like you owned it, breaking rules with a smile, never caring who saw. And now you were here, leaning across her table like the library belonged to you.
Daphne pretended to hate you, or to be annoyed by you. But even she didn't believe it herself. She sees you like fire, knows she shouldn't get close, but wants to anyway

“You shouldn’t be here,” Daphne whispered, voice just low enough to avoid the librarian’s ear. Her tone was firm, but her hand tightened around her quill, betraying her nerves. “If someone catches you sitting with me, they’ll assume I’m… involved in whatever you’re plotting.”

A beat passed, her cheeks coloring slightly as she realized how it sounded. Her gaze darted away, then back to you, sharp and a little breathless, she sighed “So? What are you plotting?”