#daxsyhookum

Send “#” for a RANDOM text.

[text]: do you know how much sunlight geraniums should be getting?[text]: is it bad that i assume you know everything about plants because your name is Daisy[text]: you ARE a plant[text]: a beautiful flower[text]: ANYWAY 

Send “%” for a CURIOUS text.

Daisy!

I just got home from the best night ever. Moody was buying Firewhiskey - he’s fucking brilliant when he’s drinking you know? Usually he’s all ‘Oi! Watch out for things! They’re dangerous!’ but tonight he was all ‘Drink up! I’m paying!’. His beard scares me.

I saw the moon on the walk home! Sort of reminded me of you - your face I mean. It was round and bright and I kept thinking ‘Daisy is that you up there?’. I asked some bloke if it was and he told me to fuck right off. Nasty bugger. I mean that your face is pretty. Like the moon. It’s a good thing. Being round and bright and all that. Good thing your face isn’t made of cheese though.

I’m hungry. I should have had a pie at the pub. D’you like pies? Or fish and chips? Merlin, that sounds good too. We should get some dinner sometime. My treat. Unless you don’t like pies, then you’re dead to me.

Not really. I’ll still like you no matter what. You’re a pretty nice person.

I’m going to have some crisps before bed. Miss you moonface!

She’s so young, and already involved in the Order. Molly couldn’t quite believe her eyes sometimes, watching the girl walk through the headquarters, confidence radiating off of her in the best of times (and even in the worst). Too young, far too young, but James Potter was only two years older, so saying anything would be for nothing.

The young people were strong. She knew that clearly.

Still, being in headquarters, working on plans against the Death Eaters and how to take them down on Christmas Eve of all days was the last thing Molly wanted to do. The children were sleeping in bed, would be for a while, and though it pained her, she trusted the house wards long enough to visit headquarters, visit her husband.

The group disbanded, and Molly walked to Daisy, offering a kind smile.

“Shame to be here on Christmas Eve, of all days, don’t you think?” she asked. Daisy looked over to Molly and returned the smile. 

“I suppose so, yeah. They’ll be at it again soon enough, I’m sure.” The two were quiet for a moment, and Daisy spoke up. “Want a cuppa? It’s chilly in here.”

Molly’s smile grew, and she nodded, rubbing her hands together. “I’d love one, actually.”

♢: Forehead or cheek kisses

Two days after the funeral, Sirius runs. His four feet are moving quickly, lightly and barely hitting the pavement underneath him. Most people don’t look twice at him - his fur is matted and he probably doesn’t smell nice, but it’s perfect because he looks like a stray dog and they’ll all leave him alone. 

He runs because he doesn’t know how to do anything else at the moment. He runs because he knows it’s the only way he can make sure his friends are doing okay. 

Most times when he runs, he doesn’t have a destination in mind - and today’s no exception. He likes how his mind goes blank as Padfoot rushes, and when he comes to, he finds himself in the middle of a busy street. Suddenly feeling the need to catch his breath, he stops, tongue out and panting slightly as he lifts his head to look around him. 

And when he sees Daisy Hookum in the middle of the crowd, he waits a few more beats before following her steps. Eventually, she ends up at a door (he assumes it’s her flat, but he isn’t completely sure) when she turns around and finally spots him. There’s a flash of confusion in her eyes, then her hand reaches out to him and he feels his tail wag. 

There are inexplicable tears in her eyes that suddenly spring up, and Sirius wishes he could give her a hug or tell her that it’s going to be fine. Not only does he have to keep the fact that he’s an animagus a secret from most people, however, but he also just doesn’t have the confidence to console her with his words. He’s never been good at that. 

So when she bends down to pet him properly, he licks at her face, because it’s the only way he knows how to make her laugh at the moment. And she does, and he barks.  A few more shared moments later, Daisy tells him to stay put, before pushing the door open and disappearing. It only takes her two minutes to bring back out a slab of meat for him, and he tilts his head.

Most admirable quality:

Her inherent goodness. Marlene has no time for people who act sweet, but Daisy’s sweetness is so honest and Marlene feels she could never attain that herself.

Most attractive physical feature:

Her smile. It can light up a whole room.

Most annoying habit:

Thinking the best of people. It’s dangerous and Marlene spends a lot of time worrying, hence making it annoying.

Something they would like to do with them:

♟: Patching up a wound 

July 2, 1977

One thing was entirely undeniable in regards to Daisy Hookum- she was far too gentle. Not in a negative sense, in that her gentility was something that should be scolded, but in the sense that all should be afraid to crush it, to squander it, to take it for granted. It was something that Alice wanted so desperately to preserve, but that she knew wouldn’t last- it never did in wars like this. 

Her gentility was evident in the way that she wrapped Alice’s hand in gauze, never faltering as she stood over a smattering of broken clay, soil, and a particularly nastily writhing plant, just at her feet. She simply trusted it- despite the fact that it was quite peeved at Alice for accidentally nicking its stem and then dropping it on the floor. As far as Alice was concerned, the bloody plant had deserved it; it had cut her hand simply because she had been trying to trim it. 

But Daisy had seen the scene that Alice had created and had simply smiled. The younger girl never seemed to have any hesitation when it came to helping people; analytical Ravenclaw that she was, Alice only assumed at the time that it was because of her roots in Hufflepuff. But, given a moment to really consider the girl before her, made of sunshine and optimism, Alice knew that it was just Daisy. 

“Guess I deserve it,” Alice snorted, shaking her head, “Pissing off plants; nasty business. Dangerous- but someone’s got to do it.”

Daisy glanced at the vines on the floor between her feet, the smile never leaving her face as the plant curled around her ankle like a small animal at the feet of its mother, “It was just scared, is all. You would have done the same thing.”

Alice furrowed her brows, ready to fire back a retort, but she couldn’t argue with the truth- not successfully, anyhow, “Yeah, I guess I would’ve." She didn’t know quite what else to say, so she simply watched Daisy finish the dressing on her arm, smoothing the crease in the bandage with the utmost care. 

“Just be more careful next time, yeah?” Daisy looked up at Alice as sternly as she could manage, though Alice was hardly convinced, “Be careful with it, and it’ll be careful with you.” 

She thought she believed in God once. For exactly eleven days, she was sure that maybe there was someone up there, pulling at the strings of fate that bound them all together. And she thought that maybe, just maybe, He was going to tug them all in the right direction. Soon. Soon. Sometime soon. 

Eleven days, and through it all, she only found the time to uncomfortably stand in the doorway of the Muggle church twice. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do here; Alice knew that people talked to this enormous man in the sky in this house of worship, but did he ever talk back? Could he tell her just what would happen in this battle that was bearing down on all of them, like a cloud from under which they could not slip? Could he, miraculously, be their salvation? Their ‘savior’, as he was so affectionately called?

On the eleventh day, Frank died. She didn’t see it. She didn’t hear it. All she heard was the deafening silence from above, from where “God” was supposed to be. He offered no explanations. No guidance. No salvation. 

۞: Are there any inner demons they can never seem to get rid of? What are they?