Closed Like a Monet PV Rafal Devereux

₊⁺⋆ Date: April 11th, 2025| Number of words: 600 Dialogue: #aa5713 ⋆⁺₊

The grass in the Hogwarts gardens felt especially warm that afternoon, as if the entire castle were breathing in a quiet anticipation, preparing its magic for the Spring Festival. Stelle shifted more comfortably on the blanket she had spread out, letting the soft breeze tousle her hair as she watched Rafal with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. The awkward way he tried to correct himself, mixed with his obvious discomfort when talking about Hufflepuffs, only made her find him more endearing rather than annoying. She smiled at him, that open, honest smile that seemed to light up her whole face, and let her laugh, light and brief, like the chiming of little bells, fill the space between them. —I'm sure, yes—. she affirmed sweetly. As she spoke, her fingers absentmindedly toyed with the pendant still hanging around her neck (the same one Rafal had noticed earlier). There was something deeply natural about her, as if she were blooming in that green setting, and it was hard not to be carried along by her calm yet vibrant rhythm. When Rafal asked which house she thought he belonged to, Stelle brought a finger to her chin, thoughtful, as if it were a very serious game. She glanced at him sideways, trying not to laugh.

—Gryffindor?—. she finally guessed, mischievously, knowing it wasn’t that hard to figure out. There was something in the way he shrank back a little, in his irony, and in that layer of guardedness he wore like a second skin, that revealed a natural cleverness. —I don't know, you’re just so sweet and cheerful. I feel like you must be a Gryffindor—.

It was only then, when the subject was already floating between them like dandelion fluff, that Rafal mentioned the party. Stelle looked at him with renewed interest when he asked if she would be attending, and when he tossed the question back at her with that mischievous tone and the raised eyebrow, the Hufflepuff let out a brief, genuine laugh. Her enthusiasm was contagious; it showed in the way she leaned slightly forward, how her golden curls bounced with every word. The Spring Ball was much more than just a party for her: it was a celebration of life, of friendships, of the year moving forward like an unstoppable river. Propping herself up on her elbows, letting the dappled sunlight from the willow cast playful shadows across her skin, she replied excitedly: —Exactly!—.

She watched Rafal for a moment, her blue eyes as attentive as they were serene. She wondered if he realized just how much he carried on his shoulders without even needing to. There was something in his posture, in the way he set his jaw, that spoke louder than any words. When he, half-jokingly, hinted that maybe he should accompany her, Stelle smiled, tilting her head in a thoughtful gesture.

—Me, inviting a boy?—. she asked softly, the playful spark never leaving her gaze. —Only in your dreams. That's hardly proper. You should be the one inviting me—.

And there, under the afternoon sun, with flowers shyly peeking through the grass and the murmur of a dance floating in the air, she felt completely at ease beside him. It wasn’t that she needed a date to enjoy the party—she was perfectly happy going alone or with friends—but the thought of sharing that magical night with someone who seemed to need a little warmth in his life... well, that made the idea even more delightful.Deep down, Stelle had already decided that, one way or another, that night would be unforgettable. Because in spring, anything was possible.

ABILITIES: Part-Veela
VISUAL: Here!
INTERACTIONS + MENTIONS:@Rafal Devereux

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Rafal openly gaped at Stelle in disbelief. Gryffindor! Of all the houses, she thought he was from Gryffindor? In general, he tried not to pay too much heed to stereotypes - really, he did! - but it was just very difficult not to feel perhaps a little, or very much offended.

"You - What - " His mouth opened and closed, and Rafal blinked rapidly. He didn’t even know what to say! Once again in this rather short meeting, the first year was at a loss for words, though for an entirely different reason than before. Yes, of course he was sweet and cheerful, and really an utter delight, but - Gryffindor, indeed!

"I’m not!" He managed to sputter out. It wasn't even Rafal's intention to show so much spurn towards the supposed house of the brave, but at the moment, his mind definitely hadn’t turned to how his reaction might come across. "I - I'm a Slytherin! The green one, not the red one!" Whilst it was anything but to him, the boy's defensiveness really would be rather entertaining from an onlooker's perspective.

Rafal huffed, crossing his arms and looking away from Stelle to stare determinedly at a tree branch on an oak a few meters away from them. It was annoyingly hard to stay mad at the girl though, and in a few seconds he is gaze couldn’t help but stray back towards her. Letting his arms fall limly back into his lap, Rafal decided it would really be best to just move on from this little hiccup. Nobody was perfect, even if the blonde had seemed so close to being just that.

It was rather endearing how excited Stelle seemed by the ball, and Rafal couldn’t help but wonder if she already had plans for the night. It was certainly believable that someone like her would have been invited a long time ago, and suddenly, the Slytherin felt a lot less sure about what he had just said. What had he been thinking? Stelles didn’t go to dances with Rafals, at least not out of fairytales.

However, what she said instead was a surprise. The corner of Rafal's lips involuntarily twitched up in an almost smile. "Well, I happen to believe witches can do anything wizards can, if not better." he replied teasingly. "In the modern world, it’s unhealthy to keep imposing gender rules like that."

Abruptly, he stood up. Adjusting his clothes, Rafal shot Stelle a grin, before carefully stepping off the blanket. "Well, I’d best be going." It hadn’t been his plan to leave right now, but this felt like a natural stoping point. And if things worked out - it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be seeing her again. "Maybe we’ll meet up later tonight, yeah? I would really like that."

And then he turned, and set off across the castle grounds. It hadn’t been his main motive, and it was only now occurring to Rafal - but maybe the Slytherin rather liked the idea of being just a little bit mysterious too.

Interacting with @Stelle Mims

Rafal has left the thread.

₊⁺⋆ Date: April 11th, 2025| Number of words: 814 Dialogue: #aa5713 ⋆⁺₊

Stelle couldn’t help but laugh, bringing a hand to her lips in a failed attempt to hold it in. It was simply too funny to see Rafal so indignant, arms crossed like a child who had just been told something he didn’t want to hear. Somehow, his exaggerated reaction was more endearing than anything else.

—Oh, come on!—. she exclaimed, her smile shining beneath the afternoon sun. —It’s not that terrible to be a Gryffindor!—. she added playfully. She leaned back, supporting herself on her hands against the grass, letting her golden hair fall in soft waves around her face. The fresh air of the Hogwarts gardens was filled with the hum of students coming and going, enjoying the last rays of sun before dinner. For a moment, Stelle allowed herself to be carried away by the calm atmosphere, though her eyes kept flicking sideways to Rafal, who seemed to be caught between staying annoyed or surrendering to the moment.

The conversation had left a sweet aftertaste, like the honey she sometimes had in the mornings with toast and fruit. There was something fascinating about the way Rafal clung to his Slytherin identity, as if the house were a kind of armor meant to shield him from the world’s judgment. And she understood that, to some extent. It wasn’t easy carrying around everything others assumed about you, like it was part of the uniform. Maybe that’s why she’d said it—about him being a Gryffindor. —Neither red nor green—. she murmured to herself, letting the wind carry the words away.

—Slytherin, then—. she said lightly, as if it were a great revelation. —I suppose that makes you... clever and ambitious?—. She tilted her head, as though studying him more closely. —I like that. I don’t trust people who don’t have at least some ambition—.

She shrugged casually, spinning a little twig between her fingers. To her, houses didn’t define everything about a person. Sure, they gave clues—but everyone was so much more than that.
And honestly, Rafal was far more interesting than she’d expected at first. He had that mix of seriousness and emotional clumsiness that made him unpredictable. —Although—. she added, lowering her voice with a sweet little smile, —you have to admit, a red scarf would’ve looked good on you. It’d make you seem… friendlier—.

She burst out laughing again.

She sat up, crossing her legs and gazing toward the castle. Sunset wasn’t far off, and the orange rays were beginning to paint the towers. The Spring Ball would be starting in just a few hours, and although her dress was ready and she’d practiced a couple of hairstyles in front of the mirror days ago, she didn’t feel entirely prepared. Not because she doubted going, but because she didn’t know what to expect. For the first time in a while, she had no plan.
When Rafal said goodbye, all she could manage was a quick “Yes” in response to his final question. His figure moved away along the stone paths and patches of clover that covered the Hogwarts gardens, the late sun casting long shadows across the grass. Rafal walked like he had someplace very important to be, though Stelle suspected it was more about trying to stay in control of the scene than any real urgency. She smiled to herself, leaning back onto the blanket again, arms folded behind her head like a pillow. She hugged her knees a little, her eyes fixed on the horizon, noticing something on the grass a few meters away.


Books.


As she approached, looking for an owner, she saw the name Rafal written on the first pages. Her heart lifted—it could be an excuse to see him again. Until she remembered his words about the dance. What if he really did go? What if he asked her to dance? It didn’t need to be a fairy tale; she didn’t want it to be. It was enough to know that somewhere in that hall, decorated with floating garlands and enchanted music, there might be a boy thinking about her.

Stelle stood with a little push, brushing grass off her skirt, letting the breeze play with her curls. She stretched her arms toward the sky, as if trying to hug the golden heavens, and walked toward the castle. The day wasn’t over, and the night held promise. Maybe, after all, the stories worth telling didn’t need brave heroes or perfect witches. Sometimes, all it took was two people crossing paths—by chance or by magic—in the gardens of Hogwarts. Carefully, she tucked the books into her bag before gathering the rest of her things, giving her painting one last look. She smiled, satisfied, setting the canvas on the ground—it would be easier to come back for it than to carry everything at once. She decided to trust no one would take it and started walking toward the castle with light, cheerful steps.

ABILITIES: Part-Veela
VISUAL: Here!
INTERACTIONS + MENTIONS:@Rafal Devereux

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OOC: I loved this thread, you write very well. I hope we meet again soon.