Daphne Potter nee Greengrass could have been the perfect wife. She was beautiful, nay, beyond beautiful. Mesmerising, stunning, enthralling, really. Wavy black hair flowed in tresses down her head and down to the small of her back. Bright blue eyes, the colour of the sky, sat above high cheekbones in a perfectly symmetrical face. Her pale skin looked rich and healthy, with natural colouring giving her definition without needing to debase herself with the products others used. Make up, after all, was for plebeians not born after hundreds of years of selective breeding.
She was smart, too. Not like the Granger girl who seemed to just know things, Daphne was smart in a different way. She could deduce, extrapolate, generalise from incomplete data. She could apply what she had learned and make predictions about phenomena she was unfamiliar with.
And she had been raised in the ways of a traditional pureblood. She knew the etiquette, she was capable of running a household, she was fiscally trained to ensure the survival of the Greengrass family even with no male heirs.
As the elder daughter, it fell upon her to continue her family name, and so it was doubly important that she get a good match. Because of that her father took no chances with her education and guaranteed her to be the perfect wife. But just like the plant with which she shared a name, she had a poison running through her.
Daphne was a loner, plain and simple. Had always been a loner. During her school years she was known as the Ice Queen, but it was not the case that Daphne was a hateful person. All she wanted was to be left alone to study the higher mysteries of magic. Since she was a child, Daphne had planned to build a tower in some out of the way forest where she could conduct her research in peace with no distractions or society telling her what was or was not acceptable for a lady.
