XII. Raving
"You're stark raving mad, Greengrass."
Daphne glared at Theodore Nott. They had been in school together for five years already and he still wasn't calling her by her first name.
"How exactly am I mad, Theodore?" Daphne asked coldly.
"You just told Tracey that girls shouldn't play Quidditch," Theodore said slowly.
"Yes, I know I did."
"You do realise that she's likely to hex you for that at some point this week? There's little she hates more than not being able to play Quidditch."
"Half-bloods are so strange," Daphne muttered. "And so are you, Nott. I'm beginning to think you're part vampire or something."
"Such an original comment, Greengrass," Theodore sneered. "Such an original comment." His tone of voice was enough to tell her that their brief conversation was, thankfully, over.
