melanie zabini harbored a deep-seated loathing for her inherent shyness. it vexed her greatly, how her voice seemed to waver when addressing her professors, an upset flush born under her chocolatey skin like cloth catching fire.

she was nothing like her older sister martine. when people thought of the name zabini, it conjoured images concerning the desirous ravenclaw allure of martine, quidditch champion, academic paragon; never melanie and her permanent deer-in-headlights expression whenever anyone interrupted her.

melanie found you particularly irksome, for you were a loquacious individual, making avoidance nearly impossible, especially since your schedules aligned comically often. she was at the greenhouses at two, you were there at half past. she was in the courtyard, you were there with friends.

you offered her pleasantaries, to which she seldom responded with more than a nod; but she knew she was timid. she found it abhorrent.

crepuscular shadows lengthened as the day waned, casting the ancient halls of hogwarts into a chiaroscuro of flickering candlelight, the quietude conducive to her studies and thoughts; but the great hall, and hour before dinner, was not exactly the most solemn of locations.

"oh, hello." melanie's round brown eyes, framed with inky lashes, flickered up to your face as if startled, though your approach had been moderately amiable. her black hair was tied back, leaving a curl or two wisping over her forehead, like char on the bark of a young oak.

a slight twitch marred the bridge of her nose as her gaze focused on a point just past your ear, wary of making eye contact, as it would be an invitation to be talked to-- which she did not welcome. especially considering the ireful factor that you were friends with her sister.

"uhm, what do you need? martine is not here, if you are searching for her." she added quietly, pursing her lips lightly, idly busying her hands with playing with the frayed seam of her knitted ravenclaw sweater (courtesy of pandora rosier).