of ice and fire \\ theo + daphne
The Three-Legged Sphinx was one of those clubs that remained on the periphery of truly sophisticated and elite places for the rich pureblood to meet. Its atomsphere, not unlike that of an American Speakeasy gave it a slightly casual air that made it more popular amongst the younger pureblood generations for drinks. In status, it was well above seedier locations like the Dementor's Cloak (the chosen location to conduct less than legal activities) but just shy of more uptight establishments like Nux Myristica (which were considered to be places of business rather than tipsy fun). As Daphne entered the building, dressed more conservatively in a faint blush hued set of robes she was rather fond of, she greeted the hostess with a pleasant smile and asked for a reservation under Theo Nott's name. His invitation had been quite welcome though somewhat surprising; their friendship had been new, towards the end of their years at Hogwarts, and neither had worked particularly hard to maintain that relationship once they'd left the castle. Still, the pureblood was quite glad to catch up with an old mate.
The Slytherin Common Room was relatively quiet, it was rather late in the evening, but not entirely empty - like the elder Greengrass, who had occupied one half of a large table near the large windows, other students were still working on school assignments. Daphne was busy reviewing her notes from Potions, a subject she would never understand; it had been sheer willpower and memorization that had allowed her to scrape by with an E on the O.W.L's, but this year, she was quickly falling behind in the class, not really understanding the theory behind the practical work. Following directions Professor Snape wrote on the board had been easy, Slughorn's methods of simply telling them which potion to make was also simple enough. But that had never translated well on actual conceptual assessments. Diagonally opposite of her, house intellect Theo Nott had claimed the other half of the table, working on his own assignments. The haze eyed witch paused in her review, leaning back and stretching out her arms. The quite murmur of hidden currents in the dark waters through the window was soothing and she covered a yawn with a hand.
"Nott," she greeted leaning in for a customary, brief hug. "It's been ages since I've seen you." Seating herself at the high table and it's equally tall chairs, she crossed one leg over the other and smoothed the fabric of her clothes. Nude colored heels peeked out from the rosy hem, silver painted toes catching the low light of the bar. Her parents had been somewhat pleased to hear her plans to meet with the Slytherin Alumnus, though she'd carefully hidden a bored eye roll. Simply because she hadn't protested their suggestions of marriage (it was easier to simply nod her head and avoid a pointless argument, especially since they hadn't been pressing the matter once she'd made vague sounds of agreement), didn't mean she was proactively attempting to fulfill their wishes. "You weren't at the memorial - good choice," Daphne added, bitterness tinging the edges, "It was entirely unpleasant. But what were you up to? Running off to some other country again?"
Sighing, the sixth year turned her attention back to the theories and properties that had stopped making sense hours ago. Deciding to take a break, Daphne shuffled through her parchment, finding a clean sheet and clearing a space for her to write. Exchanging the black ink she used for school work for a plum hued bottle, she dipped the nib of her elegant black feathered quill into the liquid, tapped it, because there was no way she'd allow her parchment to be marred by unseemly blots, and began her letter, addressing it to her grandfather. Her note was completed in a half-hour, but the witch was in no hurry to return to her pending work. Instead, in a graceful hand she doodled flowers, her name, laurel wreaths until she realized that her study companion had stopped focusing on his work and was instead staring at her and the lovely products of her procrastination. The brunette looked up, meeting his icy gaze with a challenging, raised brow, "What is it, Nott?"