UNDERESTIMATED.

daphne greengrass. seventeen. slytherin. inner-eye. potioneer. for the roleplay group still recruiting.

[lavender--brown]

Harbingers of Death: [ Daphne | Lavender ]

[sawtruth]

lavender--brown:

Lavender had only come for her damn teacups. After that, she swore that she wasn’t going to the Room of Requirement ever again. Lavender insisted that she didn’t want to die – though now she could probably predict, without her crystal balls or tarot cards or tea leaves, when she was going to. The harbingers of death had disappeared and Lavender was the opposite of relieved. Her treasure hunt for the tea cups had gone, and she turned over whatever furniture looked like it could hide a whole person. And all the while, she was muttering to herself in denial.

Who else could have possibly known? Who else could find out? Maybe Seamus or Padma or anyone knew? But Lavender didn’t have the time to ask them since Harry and Hermione were already gone – perhaps everyone else was just helping or looking already? It wasn’t like Lavender to be in the loop about anything the DA did nowadays anyway.

But she had a bad feeling about all of this to begin with that she won’t ignore, and what was worse was that she had no plan. Even if she could find anyone without the Carrows finding out, she didn’t have the capacity to stop anyone from getting hurt. It was better than nothing, right? The details were fuzzy in her head as she kicked an armchair in her way out of the Room of Requirement, forgetting once again that she was getting herself into something that she had worked so hard to keep herself out of.

She sprinted, panting hard; her breaths echoed across the empty halls and it wasn’t long before she had slowed to catch her breath, using the wall for support as she tried to fast-walk her way to the Divination Tower. There hadn’t been any other place where Lavender could project with as much focus. Lavender had to find them – and quickly.

@sawtruth

The Truth had shown her the Divination classroom, Daphne was sure of it. While she had no idea what her senses were trying to tell her about the room, she knew that something important would be happening there tonight, which was why she headed that way after parting ways with Tracey. The blood on her fingers was long gone, but she examined them anyway as though they were still caked in red. She could still picture the room in her vision – the crystal balls, tea leaves, plush pillows on the ground.

She waited at one of the short tables, glad that Professor Trelawny wasn’t occupying the classroom at the current moment. It was nearing curfew even more and this would be grounds for a detention. It took longer than expected and Daphne huffed, thinking that maybe she would have time to pull out the poison and revaluate her timeline if she got back to her dormitory soon. The Divination classroom – she hadn’t misinterpreted that but, perhaps, the Truth was trying to tell her another day. She was just about to stand up, pack her things, and make her way back down the ladder when the trap door opened.

Sitting up taller, body still, her eyes sparkled excitedly at whatever drama she was destined to be present for. But it was just Lavender Brown and Daphne’s shoulders deflated somewhat. It would’ve been odder to see anyone else up here other than Lavender, who believed in the traditions of the magical art of Divination. Lavender didn’t have the guts to step outside the realms of the norm and venture into the fullness of the Truth like Daphne herself did. Lavender practically worshipped Professor Trelawny – thought the future laid in crystal balls and tarot cards.

“It looks like Professor Trelawny has gone to bed,” Daphne said, showing her annoyance. “Since I’m assuming you’re here for something as simple as one more of her lessons.” But then she noticed Lavender’s red face, her wispy hair, her heavy breathing. One thing that Daphne could respect about the Gryffindor girl was her appearance, always so put together, but she was so haphazard right now that something was up. “Or are you looking for something else? Something in…” She ran her hand slowly along the crystal ball on the table. “…this, perhaps? I can see it in your eyes, Lavender, don’t lie to me. You know something. Tell me The Truth.” The last part – a solitary joke just for her.

[lavender--brown]

[ Daphne Greengrass | Past, Present, Future ]

A reading for @sawtruth. Card interpretations are from the Golden Thread Tarot app.

[ Past | Four of Cups, reversed ] Boredom, Taking for Granted, Aloofness. In your search for something meaningful, you have perhaps been lead to ignore the potential happiness that is given to you. So much inner focus has made you lose your way, and you have begun to deny the wonders that the world offers. Find balance; you must look both inward and out.  

[ Present | The Wheel of Fortune, reversed ] No Control, Clinging to Control, Bad Luck. A seemingly unstoppable series of events has occurred, and they are not in your favor. There is a feeling of general bad luck that you cannot control, leaving you in a state of helplessness. The great wheel always turns regardless of human desire, but what comes down will eventually come back up again.   

[ Future | Seven of Cups ] Choices, Fantasy, Illusion. A range of choices present themselves to you, some which promise power, riches, victory, and love, and others that instead present to you with disaster. Danger lurks within the choices, and wishful thinking and fantasy can lead one into trouble.

Have Lavender read your cards here.

[muddysnakedavis]

Crossed Paths || Tracey & Daphne

[sawtruth]

muddysnakedavis:

@sawtruth sent 🦋 for a starter of my character just out of detention.

There was a list of people whom Tracey did not want to run into on her way back to the dungeons from her detention, and near the top of that list was Daphne Greengrass – so of course it was Daphne who stepped out of the door on the side of the hall. Tracey froze mid-step for a moment, staring at the unmistakable curls of the girl she’d spent the last six and a half years studying in a desperate bid to fit-in with her peers. Maybe she could duck into an empty classroom herself, wait for Daphne to leave; even just bend down to fiddle with her shoe, give the other witch a minute to walk ahead and then follow unobserved…

But the dungeon hallways were long and rarely crowded, and footsteps tended to echo. (For once, Tracey wished she were wearing her rubber-soled platform skechers instead of her neat black boots, even though they often drew smirks and strange looks from her housemates. At least they were quiet, so long as she was careful not to let them drag along the flagstones and squeak.) While she would prefer not to let Daphne notice her at all, better to be up-front about it than to get caught trying – and failing – to sneak in her wake.

Tracey continued forward, the faint click-clack of her hard soles on the stones sounding like thunder in her ears. Her eyes, as they always did when Daphne Greengrass was within view, slid across the hallway and fixed on the other witch. She wondered what Daphne had been doing – just snatching a bit of privacy in an unused classroom? Working on homework or a chore assigned by one of their teachers? Or something more interesting?

She squinted at Daphne’s hands but the flickering torchlight made it impossible to tell if the red on her nails was anything more than varnish and from this distance, there was no chance that Tracey would be able to catch a whiff of the enticing smoke that sometimes clung to Daphne after one of her viewing sessions – or whatever she called them; Tracey had observed (stalked) the other witch enough to have a general concept of what Daphne did in her private hours, but she had never dared to engage her in a conversation about it so she didn’t know the details. But perhaps now was the time…

Tracey cleared her throat, announcing her presence on the off-chance that the wavering shadow and clatter of footsteps hadn’t done so already, and stretched her legs to catch-up to the other girl. “What’s got you out so close to curfew?” she asked cheerfully. It would after all be perfectly reasonable for her to be curious what Daphne was up to, under the circumstances – just a bit of harmless small talk between housemates. And if she was up-front about her own cause for being out so late, maybe Daphne would feel obligated to tell her something in return. “I hope it was something more interesting than the nonsense McGonagall had me stuck doing?” She laughed, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless and eager as she felt inside. “I swear, all it takes is one little smirk at that woman, and she’s screeching about impertinence…”

The smoke had been hazy and the blood only providing snippets of scenes. Daphne hadn’t even gotten a feeling upon breathing in the fumes. Nothing. It was a blockage that was frustrating, though she knew it was only because the moon was waning and the stars would be hidden by rainclouds tonight. It wasn’t perfect conditions for the Truth and Daphne knew how important weather could be, but it didn’t stop her from feeling angry that the only thing she’d gotten from her predictions tonight were branches swaying in the wind and a pair of brown, faded boots in the mud. What did it mean?

She collected her things, put back the borrowed school cauldron, and cleaned up the mess she’d made before heading out the empty classroom. There were footsteps in the corridor, not to far away, and when she heard a throat clear, Daphne turned towards the noise. Tracey Davis. They shared a dormitory. Not just a house, but an actual room. Daphne’s bed only a few away from Tracey’s. But they weren’t actually friends, not really. She’d have to be daft not to notice how Tracey stared at her sometimes, though.

What the other Slytherin didn’t know, however, is that her secret wasn’t safe. It wasn’t that Daphne knew what the whole thing meant, but only a few days before, the Truth had given way to the fact one of Daphne’s own held a secret. It had been Daphne’s own interpretation of the leftover residue of poison that led her to believe Tracey. After all, the residue had been tinged with purple. A secret. And Tracey’s family was full of them – or people that were hidden, anyway. Squibs.

“It’s not curfew yet, dear.” She said it sweetly, avoiding the question fully while acting as though she’d given a satisfactory answer. “Oh you were in detention?” Daphne moved closer to Tracey in order to walk with her back to the common room, leaning in conspiratorially. “You must tell me the story! I do love a good piece of gossip.”

It was easy, pretending to be friends. I know you have a secret, her eyes seemed to scream anyway.

[mosternestmacmillan-blog]

Concern for an Old Friend || Ernie and Daphne

[sawtruth]

mosternestmacmillan:

Ernie had almost forgotten that he had written the letter to his old friend, for in the morning, his mind had been occupied with thoughts about his Arithmancy assignment. He was almost regretting taking the course, but it was necessary for the careers he was considering. Then again, who even knew what the wizarding world was going to be like in the near future, anyway? He was consumed with these thoughts as he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Ernie had been in a conversation about the Pride of Portree Quidditch team when his friends warned him that a Slytherin was briskly marching toward the table–and that she did not look please. Suddenly, Ernie remembered what he had done the previous night, and the letter, and was mentally kicking himself for doing it. He thought it had been a kind or at least proper gesture, but judging by her facial expression, the letter was not well received.

It had also been a considerably long time since he had been yelled at so crossly. The normally poised boy was trying to form some kind of rebuttal to what she had said “I’m, uh, sorry. I thought I’d offer up any help I could give,” Ernie managed to blurt out while absentmindedly pushing his hashbrowns around with his fork. “I figured since our families are on good terms that it’d be true. How was I supposed to know it was a bunch of codswallop?” Ernie bit his lip, hushing his tone a bit “I did–do care, otherwise, why would I have bothered to send the bloody thing in the first place? Why else would I risk my mother finding out and trying to arrange a marriage?” He was starting to turn heads at the Hufflepuff table, and it was becoming something of a scene “Can we talk about this somewhere private?” He asked through gritted teeth.

He stammered through an apology and she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and causing the piece of parchment in her hand to wrinkle. She couldn’t believe this was real. If he were really bringing up concern over something he heard, then why would he wait for a letter she would be reading in front of everyone? He had made friends with those silly Gryffindors and was showing his true colors.

“I don’t need your help!” She said it through her teeth, her tone cutting. Like a hiss. The snake she was proud to be. “If you have any common sense, you’d know it wasn’t true. And if our families are on ‘such good terms’ then why did you feel the need to write me a letter? We’re in the same castle, Ernie! Or are you afraid talking to someone like me will upset your new wittle fwriends?” She said the last part in a baby voice, empathizing the fake w’s in the words.

She stared at him in annoyance when he brought up the possible marriage and stuck her chin up taller. “There will be no marriage.” She laughed when he asked to go somewhere more private. “Worried about a reputation, are you? Perhaps having your family slaughtered with a fake curse is the kind of news you wouldn’t want others to hear!” But she turned on her heels anyway, heading towards the front of the Great Hall. A few steps into her storm-away, though, turned back around and threw up her hands as though he should’ve been able to read her mind. “Are you coming or not?”

[afirefinnigan]

Daphne in the hallway |

[sawtruth]

afirefinnigan:

@sawtruth Send me 🔪 for a starter of my character catching yours fresh from a murder

“Oh come on now.” Seamus wasn’t sure why he was surprised, or concerned, or disturbed at this point. Daphne was, of course, a perfectly respectable pureblood and what she was doing was probably perfectly acceptable by measure of the rest of Hogwarts…

But, really, truly. There was a small animal on the ground, there was blood. Daphne had literal blood on her hands–and was that a bottle of some sort? It probably was.

“And you wondered why i thought you were creepy.” Seamus squatted down, careful to keep his feet out of the pool…and everything else. “Why.” It seemed a reasonable enough demand. 

Her hands were covered in blood when he’d caught her. Not even a prefect (okay, so neither was she) and yet Seamus was outside the castle at a time she hadn’t expected. She wasn’t far into the grounds, but she hadn’t expected anyone in the courtyard at this hour! It was the whole reason why she’d come searching in the first place.

She pursed her lips, eyes narrowed, and turned back to the dead animal, it’s white fur coated with red. As though she wasn’t in any hurry, she collected the blood and capped the vial, before standing up to face Seamus at full height, still glaring. “It’s just a rabbit. I didn’t think you’d be one to have such a soft spot for animals.” Her vial fell into her pocket and Daphne pulled out her wand.

“It’s barely any blood and you’re positively turning green!” It was too dark to really see too much of Seamus’ features, but Daphne had never been afraid to make things up. “What’s that little rebellion of yours going to do when they find out you can’t handle a bit of blood?” She didn’t know he was part of the group dirtying up the walls, but it was an easy assumption to make when rumor had it he’d been with Harry Potter on the night the Boy Who Lived supposedly returned.

With a flick of her wand, she cleaned her hands easily. “Just because I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty in the name of education doesn’t make me creepy. Maybe you’re just not as dedicated to your studies as I am.”

[muddysnakedavis]

👫 + daphne

Four Headcanons for @sawtruth:

The first witch in her year that Tracey met was Millicent Bulstrode. The second was Daphne Greengrass, who made less of an impression on her than Millicent had done with her terse smile and perfunctory (but strong) handshake. Within hours, that initial assessment had shifted: it would have taken a much less observant girl than wide-eyed and wonder-struck Tracey Davis to detect the hierarchy in Slytherin House, and who was at the top. Not understanding the pattern behind it, and realizing quickly that no one else was as awe-struck by the castle as she, Tracey resolved to keep her mouth shut until she figured it out – and once she did, it didn’t take a genius to realize that Daphne Greengrass was the girl to watch. Not as mean as Pansy Parkinson but on or at least near her level socially, it was Daphne whom Tracey tried to emulate; Daphne whom Tracey made a point of eavesdropping on. She soon gave up her attempt to mimic the more refined, old-fashioned style of speech that the pure-blood students (and many of the half-bloods) demonstrated, figuring that anyone with brains could spot her for an imposter when she tried, but the rest of it – the attitude? The opinions? The casual blood-supremacy? All of that, Tracey drew from Daphne – her unwitting guide to Slytherin House.

She watched Daphne for her cues in Flying Lessons, too. Of course their first day of lessons was horribly botched due to those stupid Gryffindor boys – the one who fell, and the one who started a fight with Draco Malfoy. But that was only the first lesson; there were many to follow, and Tracey was transfixed. Magic was amazing, of course, all forms of magic – but this was flying. There was nothing like it, nothing like it in the world – but after those first few giddy, heady moments of being airborne, she realized that Daphne, floating a few feet over, looked almost bored. Flying was passe to her, commonplace. Ordinary. Feeling like she’d just swallowed a pint of poison, Tracey dragged herself back down to earth and shoved her elation off to the side where it wouldn’t be seen, where it wouldn’t get her teased. She kept her eyes on Daphne instead, mimicking the other girl’s casual attitude and lackadaisical flight-style as best she could. Eventually it stopped being a pretense, and by the time she was old enough to try-out for the Slytherin team Tracey had convinced herself that it wasn’t worth bothering – not because she was ashamed at her lack of experience or worried that she wasn’t good enough (although both were true), but because it wasn’t all that interesting after all. Daphne didn’t seem to think so, anyway – and Daphne was surely right.

When Daphne complimented Tracey’s dress robes in fourth year at the Yule Ball, Tracey thought she could have walked on air for the rest of the night, no wand required – until she walked past a second time and saw Daphne, Pansy, Draco, and his two bookend-bodyguards laughing their heads off. Maybe they weren’t looking at Tracey specifically; maybe it wasn’t her robes they were mocking. But that’s what it felt like. Tracey retreated from the dance floor (it wasn’t like she knew any of the music anyway – although she had been enjoying listening to the unfamiliar songs, trying to memorize as much of them as possible for her later reference) and kept her distance for the rest of the evening, shooting back down to her dungeon dormitory as soon as the dance was over and stuffing her horrible robes into the very bottom of her trunk where nobody (especially not gorgeous, fashionable, elegant Daphne Greengrass, prettier than anyone else there save for only the Beauxbatons champion herself) would ever see them again.

People say Daphne is creepy. People say Daphne knows things she shouldn’t know. Tracey doesn’t think that’s creepy at all; she thinks it’s clever. Given that she’s spent the last few years collecting as many secrets as she can get her hands on for insurance purposes, she can’t blame Daphne at all – in fact, she envies the other girl. If only there was a way for her to convince Daphne to share whatever it is she does – but Tracey doesn’t think that the pure-blood elite regularly share their esoteric non-curriculum-approved magicks with mudbloods– with squib’s offspring like her. She keeps watching, though, as much as she can; makes note of the flecks of red around Daphne’s nails, the dark vials tucked in her pockets, the trace of strange smoke that clings to her hair and robes. Maybe she can learn something from all of that, eventually; she’s learned so much about everything else from watching Daphne, after all.

[mosternestmacmillan-blog]

Concern for an Old Friend || Ernie and Daphne

[sawtruth]

mosternestmacmillan:

Ernie was never that good about talking about big topics in person. Though he was confident and smart, he had a tendency to blurt out foolish or improper things when he got nervous. Ernie was much better in the realm of writing–it was much easier to send official correspondence, as then he could think and revise everything that he sent. No word vomit in writing. Well…usually.

Pulling his quill from its case, he dipped it in the inkwell and began to craft the letter to his old friend. Although they had grown apart, the fact that she might be suffering from a curse, really worried Ernie. Perhaps his heart was something of a weakness, because if the others found out that he had been writing someone who was known to associating with the other pureblood supremacists, would be something of a scandal. Still, Ernie was concerned, and figured it was his duty to at least check up and offer his condolences, if they were necessary. In Royal Blue Ink, and in fanciful calligraphy, Ernie began to write:

Dear Ms. Daphne Greengrass,

I am writing to you to offer my deepest sympathies. My mother, Margaret Macmillan, spoke to me over the summer and mentioned that someone in your family may be afflicted with a debilitating curse. I’m sure that you or Astoria would easily be able to overcome it, as you both seem to be rather strongwilled–or at least you were when we were children. I seem to recall many games from our youth that involved me being a butler to you and Astoria. That was such a long time ago, wasn’t it?

Forgive me, I digress. I meant to say that my uncle Tiberius Macmillan is a renowned cursebreaker and works for the Ministry. I’m sure that he’d be more than willing to see what he can do, especially since our families seem to be on good terms. I, of course, won’t write to him unless you specify that you’d like me to–I don’t want to overstep my boundaries. Let me know what I should do, or if you need some help. I know that it has been a very long time since we have even spoken, but I figured I’d put it out there, for old time’s sake or something.

Cordially,

Ernest Macmillan

Ernie rolled the parchment and pressed the wax seal bearing his family crest to seal the parchment. Tying it to his owl, Caspar, he offered the bird a treat before sending it off in the night. Ernie hoped the letter didn’t come off as condescending or out of place. Hopefully, it was just a rumour. Ernie was due to go on patrol shortly, and after pinning the Prefect’s badge to his robe and headed out on patrol, hoping for a quiet night.

@sawtruth

An owl was waiting at the Slytherin table when she got down to breakfast. It was pecking in the oatmeal dishes, seeming impatient, but flew towards the end of Daphne’s table the moment she sat down. She furrowed her brow, confused, when it landed it front of her. She’d never seen the creature before today and, the moment she took the scroll from it’s leg, it took off, wings flapping in the air. Apparently, it had been waiting for her for a long time, which meant someone would’ve had to send it during the night. Slytherin house couldn’t receive owls in the nighttime except during the occasion a house elf might deliver it, as their dormitories and common room was located underneath the lake.

Curiously, she opened the parchment and began to read. With every word, she grew more angry. A curse? She or Astoria affected. And all from Ernie Macmillan, someone she’d spoken to very little since their childhood years. How dare he!

Standing up from her seat, she ignored the questions from her friends, and marched over to the Hufflepuff table. How had she not predicted this? Or was this the rage she’d felt upon looking into the smoke the night before? There had been no image to go along with the feeling, but sometimes the feelings were predictions in themselves. Yes, this must be it!

She stormed through the hall until she reached Ernie’s spot at the table and thrusts the letter at him. She had the urge to crumple it up and throw it at his big head, but resisted the urge. Several people were watching, after all! It wasn’t every day that the houses intermixed like this. Though, admittedly, it had been happening a bit more lately – what with some mysterious people (everyone knew at least a few involved) trying to strike up a fight against the Carrows. “What in Merlin’s name do you think this is?” she said heatedly. “Your family has heard some pretty far-fetched rumors, Ernie. I’d check your facts before you go spouting off the same while acting concerned!” She didn’t buy his worry. Surely, he was trying to have a dig at her.

[mosternestmacmillan-blog]

👫 + daphne

1. Being a member of the respectable Macmillan pureblood family meant that in his early days, most of his playdates as a young child were with other pureblooded families. His mom especially got on with the mother of Daphne and Astoria. Ernie didn’t really like being around their parents, but Daphne and Astoria were nice enough. Ernie also liked showing off his mastery of etiquette and customs to the Greengrass sisters. He especially tried to show off to Daphne, as she was the same age as him.

2. Ernie’s mother has often told him that Daphne was a prime prospect for marriage, and that his father and her were strongly considering arranging the marriage, should the Greengrass family also accept. Ernie, of course, is against the whole arranged marriage thing, especially because she seemed to subscribe to the whole pureblood supremacy thing. He was pretty sure that Daphne doesn’t want to marry him either–as he was a Hufflepuff, and didn’t care all that much about any of that pureblood stuff. He expects that the Greengrass family will reject the possibility of any marriage–at least he hopes so.

3. Ernie is a bit curious about what she’s really like now. He knows that she hangs out with the other purebloods, but she never seemed as mean as the rest of them, at least to Ernie. He wondered if she really believes all the stuff that the pureblooded adults believes. He has thought about sending a letter to her asking her to lunch or something; but also knows that if they were seen together, it would somehow get back to both his friends and his family and that would have a cascade of consequences. Still, a part of him misses the innocent days of youth, as she really was someone Ernie was close to in his pre-Hogwarts life.

4. Ernie has overheard gossip about the Greengrass family from his mother and that the Greengrass family was worried that one of the Greengrass children was suffering from the curse laid upon their family so many decades ago. Ernie didn’t pry, but he’s wondering if it could be Daphne who suffered from the curse, or if the curse even existed at all. Ernie didn’t even know what the curse was or what it did, but his mother seemed pretty concerned about it. Ernie wants to ask–she was his old friend after all.

[lavender--brown]

Sweet Dreams: Daphne | Lavender

[sawtruth]

lavender--brown:

The gate to the restricted section wasn’t protected by any magic except for the leering eye of Madam Pince. The titles of most of those books had been long faded, so Lavender wouldn’t have been able to tell which one would get her the information she actually cared about. The shelf she hid behind at least guaranteed that Madam Pince wouldn’t making eye contact with her.

Lavender’s fingers were pressed against her temple, her other hand absentmindedly turning the pages of her book without really reading any of the words. She wasn’t even sure if the book was helpful with her predicament. She shouldn’t be thinking of it as a predicament though – it was her way of winning this… war.

She didn’t like thinking of it as a war either, but what the hell was she supposed to call it when every classroom was a battlefield and every hallway had someone marching to their demise? Maybe if she phrased it like that to Professor Trelawney (or Professor McGonagall, even?), maybe she can get a note signed to get in. She wasn’t sure if Madame Pince was one of those who worked for the Carrows though. Lavender has yet to be punished for even glancing in that direction.

Lavender closed her eyes for a moment. Maybe she could dream about a day passing without her having to nurse a new bruise.

@sawtruth 

She held the note up to Madam Pince with an air of indifference. Being in the current favorite house of the headmaster had its perks and, while Professor Snape himself hadn’t signed off on the slip, Alecto Carrow had – and that was good enough for Daphne. Even though both of the Carrows weren’t exactly her favorite people – no class at all and their excitement for torture was unbecoming – Daphne would use her status as pureblood to her advantage. After all, many would say her interests were creepy in themselves (hadn’t Seamus Finnigan called her that just the other day?), so she left Amycus and Alecto to their own devices. She participated as little as possible. The only reason to even raise her wand was so no one would raise it on her. And perhaps she’d collected some blood from the floors in the meantime.

Madam Pince signed off on the note with puckered lips – apparently, she wasn’t pleased that Daphne was being granted access to the Restricted Section in such dark times, but there was nothing she could do about it, so Daphne flashed her a smile and moved towards the stacks. She was about to enter when she halted, feeling as though someone were watching her.

Daphne peered around the entrance to the Restricted Section and saw Lavender Brown staring back. They didn’t know each other well, though probably better than Daphne knew many Gryffindors. They were among the very few people who had decided to continue Divination at the NEWT-level, after all. It was the very reason Daphne was granted access into the section in the first place. She may have fudged on the details a bit – claiming the books she wanted were for class and not for personal education – but it was all the same subject!

“Stalk much?” Daphne said coldly with a roll of the eyes. Lavender really was staring at her in a longing sort of way. And Seamus said she was the creepy one! “You’re not even good at pretending to read. Obviously you want something from me. Out with it!” It never really crossed Daphne’s mind that maybe it wasn’t her that had peeked Lavender’s interest.

[sawtruth]

afirefinnigan:

“Of course you don’t.”

“You can’t just call someone creepy and then not explain. I’m not sure what you believe about me but, whatever it is, you’re either sorely mistaken or too... small to handle it.” Her eyes run down his body, landing on the front of his robes where he may or may not be sizeable, and raises her brows before looking back into his face. 

[captnbard-deactivated20200128]

daphne greengrass | “The Earth is littered with the ruins of empires that believed they were eternal.”

[sawtruth]

afirefinnigan:

@sawtruth

“You are so creepy, you know that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

[tealeaves-rp]

HEADCANON RELATIONSHIP MEME: 1

[afirefinnigan]

Sometimes you are trying to figure out something interesting for backstory (or a current plot) and you just can’t figure it out with the two characters. Or you can, but its hard to explain what’s interesting about it. Whatever. This is a headcanon starter which is intended for building block headcanons based on two characters. Some are trope plots others are statements indicative of a moment or experience with the other character.

These can also double as fic prompts.

IF YOU WANT A SURPRISE HERE’S A RANDOM NUMBER GENERATOR. THERE ARE 36 OPTIONS.

Keep reading

[stillrecruitingrp]

The D.A. has recruited Karli to the character of Daphne Greengrass with a faceclaim of Zoey Deutch. You think you’re something special, just because you can see things? Those visions are all just blood on your hands, Daphne.

Keep reading

[stillrecruitingrp]

DAPHNE       ჻    ჻    GREENGRASS

…CAN SEE THE FUTURE IN EVERY DROP OF RED, RED BLOOD

People don’t believe her, or maybe they just don’t want to – but Daphne has always had a knack for knowing things before they happen, seeing things she shouldn’t be able to. Sometimes that means doing things you aren’t supposed to, too – but who wants to spend their life grubbing in the dirt so other people can brew miracles? Daphne would rather have blood on her hands than soil; there’s more potential in blood than there is in mud.

STILL       ჻    ჻    RECRUITING

…is a canon divergent, literate, 18+ Trio  Skeleton Game. Themes that may be explored include violence, torture, war, PTSD, and other highly triggering topics.

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