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WHO; Malcolm Baddock && Daphne Greengrass
WHEN; sometime after midnight.
WHERE; the Slytherin common room.
SUMMARY; Plotting.
RATING; PG13.
WARNINGS; language later on, most likely.
STATUS; In progress.



The words had begun to run together. Turning the page with an unpleasant look on her face, Daphne bit her lip, and took a glance outside only to see the rain splatter against the window. With a shiver she looked around the dorm, noticing that the only one that didn’t seem fully asleep was Millicent. Daphne shuddered at the thought of being asleep and threw one of her favourite blankets over her shoulders and then reached for her wand for good measure. As much as Daphne would roll her eyes and exhale loudly whenever Baddock would appear, she hated the fact that a small smile appeared on her face as she lit her wand and made her way to the common room.

It was only as she saw the faint glow of the common room that she realised she was still in her sleepwear. It wasn’t revealing but just the fact that she could count on Baddock to say something ridiculous about it made her frown once more. She didn’t even know why she was asking him to keep with the plan. She had Theodore offering to help her and she was going to the ball with him. Daphne sat down on one of the more comfortable chairs as she pulled her blanket closer to her and shook her hair so it was in her face slightly. It was nice to feel wanted, whether it was from Theodore or Baddock, or anyone. Daphne normally didn’t care much for attention from those of the opposite sex; she’d had more pressing issues to deal with. She’d gotten outrageously happy when Theodore had asked her to the Ball. In a way she’d always liked him in that manner, though she would never admit that to anyone. She smiled once more and thought about how the night would be memorable whether she was able to enact her plan or not. This year seemed to be turning out well, at least.

Daphne made a mental note to send an owl to her father in the morning. He’d been pestering her to mail him more often, and once a month wasn’t asking terribly much, though thinking about it would put her in a foul mood again. Instead Daphne curled up on the chair, slightly nodding off. Her bed seemed more welcoming now that she wasn’t in it.

Where was he, anyway? She couldn’t have been that early to meet him. The nerve.