SnitchSeeker.com - View Single Post

sweetpinkpixie · 06-05-2026, 09:43 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Zoe

Freya sat cross-legged atop an overturned crate near a bench crowded with potted plants, her Herbology textbook spread open across her lap. A roll of parchment rested beside her, already littered with notes, corrections, and several frustrated scribbles she had long since crossed out.

Herbology was not impossible. That was what she kept reminding herself.

But it just simply wasn't Defence Against the Dark Arts.

DADA made sense. Dark creatures, defensive spells, practical applications—those things came naturally. Plants, however, had an irritating tendency to blur together in her memory. Every time she thought she had finally memorized the identifying features of one species, another appeared with nearly identical leaves and a completely different set of hazards.

Freya frowned down at a diagram.

"Ovate leaves..." she muttered to herself, comparing the illustration to a specimen growing nearby. "Or was it heart-shaped? No. Ovate."

The plant seemed unimpressed by her efforts.

A slender tendril brushed against the edge of her parchment, curling lazily around her quill. Freya gently unwound it and nudged it back toward its pot.

"Don't start."

Sighing, she returned to her notes. Turning another page, she studied a section on magical plant life cycles. While she was preoccupied, the vine responded by reaching for her again.

The lanky sixth year had been in the greenhouse long enough that evidence of it had begun accumulating on his person. There was soil beneath his fingernails and faint smear of dirt sat along one cheek where he had absentmindedly pushed a some stray blond hair that had fallen out of his poorly constructed ponytail ― he was still green when it came to such hair techniques ― from his face with the back of his hand. One of his sleeves was rolled unevenly to the elbow and a new collection of seeds, bark fragments, pebbles, and leaves occupied his pockets.

In short, he looked entirely at home.

And it had been a very, very long time since that had happened.

Some days ― a majority of days ― still felt like trying to coax growth from soil he'd spent months convinced was barren. The confidence that had once come so naturally around plants remained patchy in places, returning in slow growing shoots rather than flourishing like a puffapod.

But between Professor Hawkins' quirky encouragement, Professor Amstern's steadfast mentorship, and ~~Uncle~~Professor Cox's stubborn refusal to let him disappear into himself entirely, Herbology had begun to feel like somewhere he belonged again.

Like a perennial testing the air after a hard winter, uncertain whether spring could really be trusted.

But the calmness, the brushes of confidence around his flimsy edges, were why he nearly walked past the fifth year without noticing her. His attention, more specifically, had been occupied by a tray of seedlings balanced carefully in his arms until movement caught his eye.

A vine. Specifically, a vine attempting what appeared to be a determined courtship of her quill.

Nyle slowed... then stopped.

The girl herself looked striking against the sea of green surrounding her. Not delicate in the way some flowers were...but like foxglove growing from a crack in stone or perhaps a sea holly standing stubbornly against coastal winds.

Meanwhile, the vine reached for her again and he watched as the tendril curled eagerly towards her sleeve.

"It likes you."

The observation escaped before he could reconsider whether interrupting her studying as a sensible idea or not. Which, naturally, meant he regretted the interruption on his next breath and the tray slightly against his hip and trying to make his towering frame fold in on itself.

"Erm."

Excellent recovery. He really needed to learn to just stop talking.

"I think it's just bored."

06-05-2026, 09:43 AM	#3 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie SSRPG Admin Gladrags Mod Quibbler Mod Minister for Magic Alley Proprietor Sea Serpent Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths Posts: 41,560 Hogwarts RPG Name: Professor Cox Ravenclaw Graduated Hogwarts RPG Name: CJ Miller Gryffindor Fourth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Nyle Harden Hufflepuff Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Iris Harden Ravenclaw Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Jae-hyuk Anouilh Slytherin Seventh Year Ministry Department Head: Charles Hollingberry Minister's Office Ministry Department Head: Airey Flamsteed Mysteries Diagon Alley Proprietor: Victor García Massey Ollivanders x12 x12	astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf Quote: Originally Posted by Zoe Freya sat cross-legged atop an overturned crate near a bench crowded with potted plants, her Herbology textbook spread open across her lap. A roll of parchment rested beside her, already littered with notes, corrections, and several frustrated scribbles she had long since crossed out. Herbology was not impossible. That was what she kept reminding herself. But it just simply wasn't Defence Against the Dark Arts. DADA made sense. Dark creatures, defensive spells, practical applications—those things came naturally. Plants, however, had an irritating tendency to blur together in her memory. Every time she thought she had finally memorized the identifying features of one species, another appeared with nearly identical leaves and a completely different set of hazards. Freya frowned down at a diagram. "Ovate leaves..." she muttered to herself, comparing the illustration to a specimen growing nearby. "Or was it heart-shaped? No. Ovate." The plant seemed unimpressed by her efforts. A slender tendril brushed against the edge of her parchment, curling lazily around her quill. Freya gently unwound it and nudged it back toward its pot. "Don't start." Sighing, she returned to her notes. Turning another page, she studied a section on magical plant life cycles. While she was preoccupied, the vine responded by reaching for her again. The lanky sixth year had been in the greenhouse long enough that evidence of it had begun accumulating on his person. There was soil beneath his fingernails and faint smear of dirt sat along one cheek where he had absentmindedly pushed a some stray blond hair that had fallen out of his poorly constructed ponytail ― he was still green when it came to such hair techniques ― from his face with the back of his hand. One of his sleeves was rolled unevenly to the elbow and a new collection of seeds, bark fragments, pebbles, and leaves occupied his pockets. In short, he looked entirely at home. And it had been a very, very long time since that had happened. Some days ― a majority of days ― still felt like trying to coax growth from soil he'd spent months convinced was barren. The confidence that had once come so naturally around plants remained patchy in places, returning in slow growing shoots rather than flourishing like a puffapod. But between Professor Hawkins' quirky encouragement, Professor Amstern's steadfast mentorship, and ~~Uncle~~Professor Cox's stubborn refusal to let him disappear into himself entirely, Herbology had begun to feel like somewhere he belonged again. Like a perennial testing the air after a hard winter, uncertain whether spring could really be trusted. But the calmness, the brushes of confidence around his flimsy edges, were why he nearly walked past the fifth year without noticing her. His attention, more specifically, had been occupied by a tray of seedlings balanced carefully in his arms until movement caught his eye. A vine. Specifically, a vine attempting what appeared to be a determined courtship of her quill. Nyle slowed... then stopped. The girl herself looked striking against the sea of green surrounding her. Not delicate in the way some flowers were...but like foxglove growing from a crack in stone or perhaps a sea holly standing stubbornly against coastal winds. Meanwhile, the vine reached for her again and he watched as the tendril curled eagerly towards her sleeve. "It likes you." The observation escaped before he could reconsider whether interrupting her studying as a sensible idea or not. Which, naturally, meant he regretted the interruption on his next breath and the tray slightly against his hip and trying to make his towering frame fold in on itself. "Erm." Excellent recovery. He really needed to learn to just stop talking. "I think it's just bored." __________________ We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back......................................... But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass..................................... The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like