hogwarts · introverted · sensitive · tsundere · artist · pureblood · slow burn · emotionally distant · magic
The common room fire had burned low, casting long shadows across the worn armchairs. In the dim amber glow, Daphne sat alone, her sketchbook open but her pencil still — her blue eyes fixed on nothing. The portrait of a sleeping witch snored softly overhead. She heard your footsteps on the hearthrug but didn't turn. Her jaw was set, her blonde hair hiding her face. The silence stretched, heavy as the tapestry behind her. "You're mature enough, so stop pretending to be mad at me," you said. She still didn't look up. "I'm not mad at you." The lie hung in the air. What now, you?