Her pale brows furrowed together in what she hoped was a convincing disapproving look. Because she did disapprove of his playful winking. Somewhat. Except their swinging hands distracted them and she stared down at them curiously, keeping up with the rhythm Plymouth had set for them. "Well, you don't have to insist. I'll believe you," quipped Miss Hopton lastly blushing and looking away from him.

EEP. His nose was pretty toooo.

She squeezed his pinky finger tighter.

"Seeeeeee?" Plymouth leaned down towards Daphne with his great big grin. "You ARE easy. That was really easy to win." Plymouth curled his fingers around her hand and held it for a moment before starting to swing it again. "Hehe."


Very good day. This was a great day.

EEEEEEP! He had pretty teeth too!

"Too close!" she warned in a squeak and reached out with her free hand to palm his face gently. Just in case, she left her hand there. "Too close!"

It was making her wobbly again.

"Sorry," Plymouth sighed. Not an unhappy sigh. His Daphne sigh. He knew she'd bat him away sooner or later. Plymouth bumped her hat with his forehead and then stood back just enough to be 'not too close' but where her hand could stay where it was. "How's this? Is it the breathing that bothers you?" Plymouth held his breath.

Even though his fingers were wrapped around her hand, his pink still belonged to her, so she squeezed it much rather because she could than anything else. It seemed, perhaps, the only little bit of control she had at the moment. "You ask such personal questions," declared the blond blandly with raised brows and shook her head. "No, it's not your breath." His breath was just fine. It wasn't the epitome of minty fresh breath but underneath a smell that was distinctly Plymouth there was a certain sweetness to it; one she would blame on the ridiculous amount of candy she saw he kept on his school trunk. "It's more like," she trailed off and gestured at her own face with her free hand. "You get this close," she demonstrated using her hand. "And it's a little scary."

....oh!

"Not that you're scary!"

"Scary," Plymouth repeated after her again. It was about like Daphne being SHY. Plymouth being SCARY?? Really? "Scary. As in you're afraid of me... What exactly frightens you, Daphadil? I haven't bit anyone in a very long time. Just so you know. No fangs." Plymouth peeled his upper lip up with his free hand to show her. "Scary." Hah. That Daphne... always coming up with something crazy.

.....

"Are you making fun of me, Plymouth Morgan? demanded the blond releasing his finger at once. "And I'm not scared of you....much."

In the end, Morgan was just like a boy after all. "In fact. I'm not scared of you at all." And as if to prove her point, she took two steps forward until she was in Plymouth's personal bubble (not that he had one), and looked up with a raised brow.

Put that in your whole wheat sandwich and eat it!

"I would never make fun of you, Daphadil," Plymouth frowned at her. Really now! MAKING FUN??? She was being SO absurd Plymouth didn't even know how to respond other than repeat everything she said like a brainless parrot.

But oooohhhh... Oh. "Hehe." She was right there, back again, and so was Plymouth's grin. "Hi." He tucked his hands back behind his back so that he wouldn't be tempted to "be scary". Wink. He miiiight have leaned down towards her again, just a little. But it was just autopilot!Plymouth! Couldn't be helped.

She wasn't scared, even if her legs felt a bit wobbly. And she was most definitely not scared that when he winked her chest sort of filled up with air--and it hurt a little--in a good but scary way. NOPE! Not scared. "Good!" she replied finally after gathering her thoughts which had become clouded and indistinct. "Because...."

Because what, Hopton?

"Because that would have hurt my feelings." She was being honest and he just wasn't getting it.

Sigh. Boys.

EEEP! He was close again. Except, this time she didn't palm him, instead she wrinkled her nose at him just as a blush spread across her cheeks. "Why do you do that?"

"I'd rather lick a dragon than hurt your feelings. And you know what dragons are? They're like big birds that breathe FIRE. So, that's saying something, Daphadil." Plymouth gave her a long look, almost daring her to dispute his sincerity. Plymouth would never intentionally hurt Daphne Hopton. It was absurd to even put those words together in the same sentence.

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Do what?" Plymouth had even put his hands away!! That Daphne Hopton was one hard girl to figure out sometimes. Maybe.. she wanted his pinky back? He pulled out a hand and wiggled it at her. Maybe?

Daphne hummed in agreement, nodding twice. "That's very honorable of you, almost like a knight," pointed out the Gryffindor with a sloppy smile. "Except I don't think that would make you look very handsome." Which would be a pity; a non-handsome Plymouth Morgan was hardly doing the world justice. When Plymouth's pretty head didn't seem to be getting what she meant, she reached out and held his face between her hands. "Look at me like that when you're so close. You shouldn't do it."

It made her wobbly. Which part of that was so hard to understand?

Perhaps the unspoken part.

Like a knight, huh??? Plymouth LIKED that and his GINORMOUS grin reflected as much. He had totally forgotten where they were or why. He was stuck between Daphne Hopton's palms and a very happy place.

Truly was a very good day.


"I would offer to close my eyes, but I do enjoy looking at you. Maybe just one eye," Plymouth closed just one eye. "Better? Is this a better look for you, Daphadil?" Plymouth would get an eyepatch if Daphne would feel better around him with only one eye. Small price to pay, really.

Scoffing twice, she made an amused face. "Hmm," she hummed and turned his head from side to side, then up and down, inspecting his new look; or that's what she told herself. "No, not really. You just went from knight in charming armor to a one-eyed pirate. I'm not sure how I feel about that."

Release Plymouth!Head?

Naaah. Not yet.

Plymouth re-opened that eye. "You like knights, not pirates." Check. Would remember. Who knew what FOR, but Plymouth would remember. He let her do whatever she wanted to with his head and was happy to do it. "Don't be scared of me," Plymouth added seriously. "I don't mean any harm. And I don't mean to look at your wrong or breathe wrong or whatever it is I'm doing wrong by you. Really."

Daphne continued to tilt Plymouth's head slightly, pulling him down towards her face. There had to be a scary factor in there somewhere; otherwise things weren't just adding up. But the more she looked, the less flaws she found and sighed at a loss for words, rubbing one of Morgan's cheek with her thumb before letting him go.

"You're not scary," she admitted. "I think there might be something wrong with me then."

"There's nothing wrong with you," Plymouth said automatically. But, then he seemed to really consider her concerns. He stood up tall and leaned back against the door again. Plymouth's eyes traveled from the top of his hat perched on her blond head to the very tips of her toes. "Unless it's me. I make you wrong?" Plymouth frowned. He didn't want to make another girl feel wrong, and particularly not Daphne Hopton.

One of the sleeves on his tee was rolled up. Frowning, she moved towards him, unfolding the white fabric with delicate fingers. "I wouldn't say that exactly," she replied and pondered the truth herself. If Plymouth Morgan wasn't scary than maybe Daphne Hopton was just a big coward. Which was making her question her place in Gryffindor. "More like because of you I make myself wrong?" That made absolutely no sense. "You have pretty arms, and eyes and teeth, and you're incredibly distracting. You have no sense of personal space and you're overly flattering."

....

"It makes me feel...." wobbly, jittery, frightened? "Kind of a little..." she finished squinting her eyes and clapping her hands together. "I'm not sure how to handle it."

Or explain it. At all. "But I'll figure it out." That was a promise. "Now where is that Celandine Toussaint? I barely see her anymore, you know." Ramble. Ramble.

Plymouth watched Daphne's fingers work on his sleeve. A warm little grin played at his lips as she worked. It wasn't often that Daphne touched Plymouth ... well... not on her own accord and not in "self defense" anyway. "How do we make me make you right? I mean, I think you're ALL right," but Plymouth had thought the same about Cela and THAT hadn't exactly turned out to plan.


You have pretty arms, and eyes and teeth. Plymouth!Beam.


"YOU have a pretty smile, and little delicate hands that I like to watch do various dainty little things, and your nose wrinkles up sometimes for all sorts of different things. And you have all these opinions on things that are so interesting." Since she was sharing, Plymouth felt the need to as well.

He poked her in the tummy, almost right in her belly button. "Feels funny right there, right? Hehe." Hehe indeed. "Dunno. She said she had to grab something." Plymouth was distracted either way. He wanted Daphne to elaborate on this weird feeling he gave her. Its possible that he was a disease?

Pretending to be busy with Plymouth's sleeve, she tugged and folded and unfolded it to her heart's content. Daphne wasn't sure which of the things he mentioned were compliments and which were simple observations. Letting the subject be for the time being, she instead focused on mentally cursing the ridiculous heat wrapping around her head.

Oh! OH! He had poked her. In the tummy no less. Blushing even deeper, she nodded silently at his question. Yes, indeed. It diiiid feel really funny there. Like she was being dropped from the tower and forced to do loops on the way down. "Oh. It's taking her an awfully long time to grab that something....not that it seems like it's a long time...I mean..."

Right, she was being rude. "I don't even like Potions." This was true! True!

"Pink cheeks," Plymouth commented and reached out a finger tip to touch her cheek - JUST FOR A SECOND - then pulled it back before she could swat him away. "Hehe. Pink is pretty on youuuuu. Kind of reminds me of the puffapods. Do you know how much I love the puffapods? DO you want me to get you one?" Hmmm. Anyway.

"She'll come, Daphadil. ANd... I'll do all the work. You can just watch and say those witty things you say. Keep me company. Don't let me say things I shouldn't. You know?"

"I guess," she agreed, rubbing her cheek, more out of a need to reply to distract him and herself than to genuinely agree with his statement. There were several people she could think of that would look better in pink. Except, Plymouth was on about puffapods. "Oh, I do adore puffapods! But probably not as much as I do love tulips."

And lilies, and poppies and the entire Clematis family. "Witty? I wasn't aware I said witty things." She just liked pointing out the obvious. Didn't everyone? "And what are you taaalking about?" ended the girl confuse swatting at his arm (and missing?). "Saying things you probably shouldn't it's part of your charm. Complimenting, touching, being completely too familiar with someone you barely know. That's Plymouth Morgan behavior."

And she was fine with that--most of the time.

TULIPS! Plymouth closed his eyes for a second. Tulips Daphne. Tulips Daphne. Tulips Daphne. He'd remember that. MUST find TULIPS for Daphne. "I thought you'd like... daffodils, Daphadil. Hehe!" Plymouth's legs were getting tired, so he slid down the door and sat on the floor.

He had to tilt his head to the side to see Daphne up above him. "Of course you say witty things. All the time. Almost all the time. Well, not really to me. But to everyone else, you do. It's always very amusing." Plymouth patted the bit of floor next to him. Not that he expected her to sit on the floor but he did want to offer.

"You think I'm charming?" Plymouth was probably missing the point. He patted the floor again with a whole new level of grin. Charming, huh?

Daphne wrinkled her nose at Plymouth as instinctively one hand found it's niche on her hip; the other was busy wagging a finger in a disapproving motherly fashion. "No, I don't particularly like Daffodils," she remarked stripping off her robes. "Their species name is Narcissus Tazetta. That just doesn't sound very pretty. More like fancy pottery and Narcissus was a cruel and heartless man. Do you know the story of Narcissus? The ending is very fitting. Serves him right. The world is better off without big-headed men."

Folding her robes into a makeshift cushion she handed them carefully to Plymouth, a hand on top and the other at the bottom of the folded fabric. "Please lay that next to you." There was no way she was sitting on the bare ground. Unless she sanitized it a few times with her wand. "Yes, you can be charming at times. Why?"

"I like Daphadil's," Plymouth said, taking her cloak. "I like them a whole bunch." The Hopton variety, no less. He took his time in smoothing out her robes and getting them all perfect for her to sit on. Each little wrinkle was smoothed away. "I know the story, but ... I don't think Narcissus was really all that bad. Besides, we got a pretty flower in his honor. I hope when I die something pretty sprouts up for me. They'll call it a Plymmy, I bet. It'll be all the girls' favorite flower," Plymouth joked, complete with an eyeroll. He offered his hand to help Daphne down - if she needed it. Or wanted it.


"No reason. I mean, well, there is a reason I asked, but it's... nothing."


..."hehe."

Again, she just had to wrinkle her nose at Plymouth Morgan. "You're being unreasonable," she insisted. "Don't like them." Because she said so, and because she refused to have any disagreements with Morgan. It just didn't work that way.

"Well, perhaps his real fault was having high-standards?" Or too much pride. Pride sounded like a better answer but she had already spoken. She'd just have to pretend that she liked her answer from the beginning. Taking his hand, she sat down, taking care to fold her legs underneath her as best she could without upsetting her school skirt too much. Daphne stared at Plymouth contemplatively before speaking once more.

"More than a flower, I see a climbing vine growing out in your honor. With lots of little musky smelling berries. Edible berries."