Harry Potter/daphne Greengrass Novels & Stories

Her hair was bound in a high ponytail of gleaming black hair. Her armor gleamed silver, glowing almost like burning blood in the fading sunlight. “Who is that?” “The queen,” Tom said with a haunted tone. “Only the vampire queen wears silver armor.” “That’s Daphne?” Rex asked. “Daphne,” Arthur breathed in relief, seeing her alive and seemingly well. Her eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed as she drew a bright, gleaming sword that was inlaid with glowing crystals. Tom gasped. “T-That’s impossible.”

she grins at me and gives me a shy little shrug, “I liked you immediately. And I, too, could use a friend. Gets lonely in this castle.” “See?” I say, linking arms with her and turning to pout at Jesse. “We’re lonely, Jess. Are you going to deny us friendship?” Jesse groans, tilting his head back and covering his face with his hands, but I just turn to smile at the girl. “I’m Daphne,” she says, offering her hand, which I shake. “And I swear, I won’t tell anyone, ever. I want to help.” “I’m Ariel,” I say in turn, though clearly she already knows that. “And thank you, seriously.”

As everyone had their wands on top of their desks, Erik addressed the class. "Can anyone tell me what just happened here that was wrong?" He asked the class, and a black haired female student from house Slytherin raised her hand first, followed by another male student of the same house. She was one of the two who 'placed' first in the test. "Your name and answer, Miss." Erik said while pointing to the female student who had raised her hand first. "Daphne Greengrass. Most of the class took too long to retrieve their wands."

I couldn’t risk anything going wrong now, not with the pack recovering from the attacks. Harper helped me with my dress. It was a flowing sky-blue gown that brushed the floor, sleeveless with delicate beads along the front. The back was low, showing a bit of skin, but it was elegant. She adjusted it carefully around my shoulders, making sure it sat right, and I tried not to fidget too much. “Wow, you look stunning, Daphne,” Harper said, stepping back to admire her work. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “Everyone will be staring at you. They won’t know what hit them.”

I stumbled, my phone slipping from my hand as I hit the ground hard, pain shooting through my back. A yelp escaped me, sharp and desperate, and I scrambled to my knees, my hands sinking into the cold mud. My flashlight lay a few feet away, its beam illuminating a pair of boots, sleek, black, and definitely not Keith’s. I looked up, my heart stopping as a familiar figure stood over me. Daphne Synclair, her red hair glowing like fire in the dim light. She leaned down, her lips curling into a cunning smile. Her green eyes glinted with malice, and my blood turned to ice. The girl from this morning, the one who’d giggled at Alex’s desk, was here, and she wasn’t here to talk.

As the initial surprise settled in, Daisy found herself enveloped in hugs and laughter, her worries momentarily forgotten in the embrace of friendship and celebration. The room buzzed with chatter and laughter, each moment etching a memory that would stay with Daisy for years to come. Amidst the joyous chaos, she couldn't help but steal glances at the file still clutched in her hand, a stark reminder of the weighty decision looming in the back of her mind. "Happy birthday, Daisy," Christiana said, handing her a small gift with a knowing smile. Opening it, Daisy found a beautifully bound journal, its pages pristine and waiting to be filled with her thoughts and dreams.

’ Dark mussed, enjoying the tension inside the room. ‘You can’t blame me for fucking your woman. You are always out of the territory, seeking for that goddamn Daphne !’ Darius roared. The grin on my face vanished slowly as he mentioned Daphne ’s name. I grasped the blinds until they almost crushed in my hand, especially when my ear caught Lennon’s response. ‘It’s my fucking duty! Daphne ’s also my mate!’ 'That was impossible!"

Like they were disgusted by me. I let a smile confident smirk curve the side of my lips as I walked on, my eyes scanning the entire length of the room and commiting the faces of everyone present to my mind. That was until my gaze locked on two very familiar faces. My spine went rigid. Daphne was standing near the grand staircase, a flute of champagne in her hand. She was wearing a dress that was far too white and far too tight, looking like she was trying to claim a purity she’d never possessed. And beside her stood Xavier.

Whether he was Morgan or Draco, she didn't want him in her life anymore. Morgan raised his hand to wipe away her tears; he just couldn't keep seeing her crying so hysterically and heartbroken. But when she saw his action, she flinched and backed away from him with her eyes filled with fear. His pupils shrank violently as he stared at her. ‘She was afraid of him. Did she think he would hurt her?’ He thought.

Three Days Later Daphne stood at the National Gallery. Hair pinned in soft curls, her green eyes masked behind a veil of dark lashes. Her floor-length black gown hugged her in all the right places, a masterpiece of elegance and misdirection. No one would look at her and think killer. But the blade hidden in her thigh holster didn’t care what they thought. She moved through the crowd, champagne flute in hand, like she belonged. Every sense was alert. Her target, Viktor Petrov, hadn’t arrived yet. She had time to prepare. Time to breathe.