a soft place to fall // Severus Snape x OC

019 ❁ Amortentia

A/N: Thanks all for reading. We creep closer to the Yule Ball with my couple as the First Task begins! **Still settling in my new place but working on getting everything back up and going!! Chat with me below.

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"Is she still in the castle?"

"Yes, they're taking photos, I believe," Sprout extended an arm. Wren hovered lower on a broom so they switched out burlap bags. She rose again, tending and harvesting the hard-to-reach genera off a cliffside in sections. Adjusting her gloves, Wren shifted through spiked branches in pursuit of a distinctive blood-red bulb, Witch's Ganglion. "Still hate the woman?"

"I'd sooner lick a cactus before entertaining a conversation with the likes of Rita Skeeter, Pomona," Wren blew a strand of hair from her face.

"Still fired up about her choice words on your first book?" Pomona packed jars and bags into a wheelbarrow.

"The part where she called my text on possible hybrids that undo magical effects 'wildly fanciful' or the part where she snuck into St. Mungo's and tried to take pictures of me during a check-up. Hoping to discredit my research because I'm clinically mad?" Wren peered down with a flat look.

"You should read The Quibbler, Miss Valentine," a spirited Ravenclaw trudged through the grass. Missing her shoes.

"Luna, didn't see you there," Wren lowered. "Off to see the thestrals?"

"I found your theories on hybrids riveting if you don't mind me saying. The later hypothesis on plant communication in your newest article was quite eloquent. My dad liked it too," a dreamy smile crossed the little blonde's face. "And yes, I have a treat for them today. Do you think these hybrids can say...bring people back who....disappeared due to magic?"

"Afraid that's a bit more complicated," Wren dismounted after handing her last batch to Pomona. The professor flicked her wand and willed the wheelbarrow to follow her off toward the greenhouses. "The plants have to either be grown and the pollen breathed in regularly or ingested directly."

"Ah. I suppose you'd need a body for that," Luna fiddled with one of her funny earrings. She shrugged calmly with a melodic tone. They had a certain kinship for their perceived strangeness "That's alright. Still a good thing."

"Yes, I'm focused on...mental afflictions. Things that stick that not even wizards or witches can see after they've been harmed by dark magic." Wren removed her gloves to pocket them. "We can regrow bones but healing a wounded mind is always trickier. It's a work in progress, I'll fill my chambers with more tanks at this rate."

"I'm sure my father would like to interview you one day for The Quibbler."

"I think that could be fun. Lots of work to go before something sticks, I'm afraid," Wren knelt to collect her messenger bag and outer robes. Hemlock perched himself on her shoulder.

"Bowtruckles are very lucky. Very inquisitive, too. People keep them around to pick locks," Luna observed, "some abuse that talent."

"Hemlock's a lucky rescue. Gets to sit about collecting buttons and eating his favorite bugs all day," Wren winked. "I'm sure the thestrals are waking. They'll be glad for some company... Are your feet cold?"

"Fine, thank you. I like the feel of grass."

"Protect yourself if it rains, at least," Wren beamed as the girl skipped off. She made her way back into the castle, still during a break between periods. Tried ducking into the staffroom to avoid Skeeter and cringed, almost skirting right back out.