CRY TO ME [h. potter x oc]

CHAPTER 7

A SCREAM echoed in the greenhouse.

"Harry — wait, no, put the thing—"

There was the sound of a pot falling on the floor, with a loud thunk, and then the sight of Harry wrestling desperately with the Venomous Tentacula in the corner, as its vines wrapped around him. I stumbled over, laying down the trowel I'd previously been using, tugging my wand from my jumper pocket in a panic, as the boy fought against the ugly green arms that furiously binded him.

It was stupid. We'd been doing perfectly fine for the past few hours until this second.

"Diffindo!" I cast the severing spell clumsily, my grasp unstable due to the thick gloves on my hands, causing a few of the plant's branches to snap, leaving Harry to fall forwards against another table. The Tentacula recoiled and hissed to itself grumpily, as it closed off again, settling back into its slumber as quickly as it had been disturbed by Harry curiously touching one of its leaves.

Thank god I'd actually practised that spell. Not that I was exactly making leaps and bounds with my spells and charms.

"Ugh," Harry stood up, with a visible wince, as he plucked a thorn from his sleeve.

"Are you hurt?" I asked hastily, putting my wand away, and looking him over as best I could without getting uncomfortably close.

"No, I don't think so. The thorns went into my jacket," he responded as he caught his breath, brushing down the green apron that he'd put on in order to help me with the gardening.

"Sorry," my expression folded into embarrassment, "I thought that it was still teething. Wasn't fully capable of damage yet."

"It's okay," Harry assured, finally seeming to settle, standing up straighter so we were the same height again — well, almost, I was about 0.5 centimetres taller than Harry. "I didn't think it was going to jump out like that either," he let out a weak sounding laugh.

I paused, observing his face, before I observed in an awkward tone, "This isn't... helping, is it?"

"What?" he peered at me, with a flicker of surprise.

"I was, uh... I dunno, I thought maybe gardening would get your mind off of not being able to go to Hogsmeade." I admitted, turning around to pat some soil around the base of a few flowers.

"It's... not really just that I'm worried about, to be honest," Harry, in return, offered some honesty.

I glanced at him, my brow furrowed, and was about to ask a follow up question, when the great bell tolled outside, signalling the end of the period. I let out a small sigh, before I moved to tug off my gloves, and stuck the trowel elsewhere in a pot, muttering, "We'd better get moving. Sprout'll have my head if we're in here past the hours I'm allowed in."

"Oh, right," Harry hastily undid his apron, before he questioned curiously, "do you actually like herbology?"

"I mean—" I faltered a little; then I gave a half shrug, and cracked a dry smile. "It's the only subject I'm good at here, so I enjoy it more than others."

Harry nodded, and he smiled too, though it was tinged with guilt, probably for finding comedy in my acknowledgement of my bad academic position. "Right."

We both walked out of the greenhouse, and I locked it firmly, before hanging the keys up on the side — just as we turned the corner, to, well, somewhere, we bumped into Professor Lupin, who gave us both a onceover in mild amusement. "I thought all the third years were out at Hogsmeade," he remarked jovially.

"No permission slip," Harry and I answered in unison, and we both glanced at each other in confusion, before I swallowed a laugh, and he seemed to do the same.