-- 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 --

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.

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

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

-- 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 --

-- 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?"