-- a smile upon his lips.

unaware of the brunette as she stepped up behind him. his eyes drifted to meet the brown tinted optics.
" Greengrass."
surprised at the gentleness that radiated from the girl. the girl, who spoke to him, as if he wasn't a social pariah.

" Happy New Year. "

he murmured, a hint of --

she's not a child.
she's allowed to talk with whoever she wishes, and luckily for him, he's the person in question.

...they're talking.

nothing wrong with that.

despite himself and his headache, he found himself smiling.

" I cannot stomach food nor do i wish to see it.

but...I suppose tea would do."

he watched her a moment.

" join me."

not a question nor a command. an invitation.

he did not wish to be alone.

"I'm a Black. Of course I'm a little mental."

pauses a moment.
pray tell, what does she know about curing hangovers.

... his inability to rest is why he's in his current predicament.

drinking enough is the reason for his current predicament.

... no, hospital wing. he just managed to escape the bloody place and its judgemental warden.

• —— ⊰ Αφροδιτη.

⠀ ❝𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬.❞

• ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴠᴇ. #ɢʀᴇᴇᴋᴍʏᴛʜ.
ᴀɴᴄɪᴇɴᴛ-ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ.
sᴇᴇᴋɪɴɢ sʟs & ʙᴀɴᴛᴇʀ.

♛ —— ⊰ sᴄʀɪʙᴇᴅ ʙʏ #ɪsʜᴛᴀʀ.

do not approach.
he has a terrible headache.

-- friends didn't understand his love for quidditch. they just never showed a particular interest in listening to him ramble on about the sport.

" you don't have to do that and nor do I wish to bore you.

After all, it's late.."

-- a couple.
this had caused the pair to be in each other's company far more, and he'd come to notice the girl.

" I heard from Daphne, and thought that I would ask."

a brief lift of perfectly sculpted eyebrows as she asked after the player in question. it wasn't that his --

draco had been privy to the youngest greengrass' illness mostly due to Parkinson.

pansy had never been one to keep a secret, or at least, keep a secret from {him}.

draco had never inquired nor had he particular spend time in the girl's presence. that was until Daphne and Theodore became --

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-- had slipped. His love of the game breaking through the crack of the cold persona he'd spent years crafting.

He cleared his throat.

" Daphne told me you were unwell.

You seem... better?"

-- roommates would often lead to Theodore hiding or attempting to mask any evidence.

" hm? an article about Tom Cranster, upcoming seeker. he has this brilliant manner in which he captures the snitch. It's tru--"

his voice would drop, fading away as he realized that the mask of --

" that's still going on?"

the wizard would asked, head languidly moving to the side in order to look at the brunette.

" I suppose that would explain Nott's recent persistence in wearing scarves."

Daphne was well-known to enjoy marking her territory. A quirk that while amused his --

legs sprawled upon the couch, the latest issue of quidditch weekly within his grasp.
" Greengrass. "
Lazily those grey hues would lift from the sprawled text and shifting pictures to meet her gaze.
" Daphne finally let you out of her sight?"