Describe to me “your type” please?

The fire had burned down to embers. The bottle of firewhisky was mostly empty on the table. Astoria’s nails were dry now, a deep emerald green that caught what little light remained.

Pansy Parkinson

blows on her own nails Right. That's me done. If anyone else wants theirs done, you're paying in galleons.

Theodore Nott

still upside down, voice slightly strained I'd look incredible with painted nails and you all know it.

Blaise Zabini

You look like a bat as it is. The nail polish would just be redundant.

Theodore Nott

kicks vaguely in Blaise's direction Rude.

A beat of comfortable silence. Lorenzo was sprawled on the longest sofa, head resting on the armrest, staring at the ceiling. Draco had his book open but hadn't turned a page in ten minutes. Mattheo sat closest to the fire, elbows on his knees, watching the embers shift.

Lorenzo Berkshire

to the room at large I'm still bored.

Pansy Parkinson

Then suggest something, Berkshire.

Lorenzo Berkshire

I did suggest something. An hour ago. Nobody wanted to play.

Theodore Nott

Because you wanted to play truth or dare like we're eleven.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Truth or dare is timeless.

Blaise Zabini

Truth or dare is how I found out Zacharias Smith cries when you tickle him. Some knowledge should stay buried.

Astoria laughed quietly. Daphne, sitting beside her, was watching the group with a small, unreadable smile.

Daphne Greengrass

idly We could finish the game from earlier.

Pansy Parkinson

frowns What game?

Daphne Greengrass

The one about types. shrugs Nobody got to me or Astoria.

A subtle shift in the air. Astoria's eyes flickered to her sister, then away.

Theodore Nott

finally sits up properly, swinging his legs down Oh, this should be good.

Lorenzo Berkshire

lifts his head Yeah, Daph. What's your type?

Daphne Greengrass

smiles slowly Well...

She let the word hang. Let the silence stretch just long enough for everyone to lean in. Let her gaze drift across the room — past Blaise, past Lorenzo, past Theodore.

Mattheo Riddle

staring at the fire, hadn't even noticed

Daphne Greengrass

I think I'd have to say... tilts her head someone tall. Quiet. The kind of quiet that means something, not the awkward kind. Protective, but not in a way that smothers you.

She paused. Let her eyes land exactly where everyone suspected they would.

Lorenzo Berkshire

muttering to himself Oh, bloody hell.

Daphne Greengrass

unbothered Green eyes help too.

The common room went completely still.

Pansy Parkinson

whispers to no one in particular That's... that's very specific, Daph.

Daphne Greengrass

innocent smile Is it?

Theodore Nott

slowly turns to look at Mattheo

Mattheo still hadn't looked up from the fire. He hadn't registered a word.

Blaise Zabini

lowly, to Lorenzo Someone's going to say something.

Lorenzo Berkshire

under his breath It's not going to be me.

Theodore Nott

louder than necessary Well. This isn't awkward at all.

Mattheo Riddle

finally blinks, looks up Hm?

He looked around the room. Everyone was staring at him.

Mattheo Riddle

frowning What? Did I miss something?

Daphne smiled. Said nothing.