Plucking Daisies
"He loves me, he loves me not…"
In a fit of utter boredom, Tonks had settled for playing a trite Muggle game, conjuring up daises and plucking petals.
Already, bare flower heads littered the floor, each one having ended with the same self-satisfying conclusion.
"He loves me." She smiled again.
To anyone who wasn't looking, it'd be hard to spot the lanky figure seated in the corner. If one did, they'd likely assume he was immersed in his book.
Anyone with particularly keen ears, however, might hear his uttered words, thick with the magic that settled upon flower after flower.
.:.