Dittany and Hydrangea

Summer Rain

It's the sound of the rain pattering against the windowsill that wakes you the next morning. You groan and stretch before opening your eyes and confirming that it is indeed raining thoroughly outside. Not to anyone's surprise, it is England after all.

After a few more minutes of laying in bed, you decide that it's time to unpack your bag properly, putting its contents neatly into the dresser and bathroom cabinet. You then tame your aggressive bed hair and change out of your pajamas before slowly opening the door and heading downstairs, not sure if anyone else will be awake or not.

They're awake. The door to the guestroom is open, bed made, no Neville. Augusta is in the sitting room, mending what appears to be some kind of garment.

"Good morning", you say as you stand on the threshold.

"Good morning dear, I hope you slept well?"

"Absolutely, I'm very comfortable and very thankful"

"Nonsense, no need to say thanks. Go eat some breakfast, girl". She waves in the direction of the kitchen, wand still in hand, before turning her attention to the garment again. You nod and cross the hallway into the kitchen.

It feels wrong to be digging in the cabinets of someone else's home, but you do it anyway, knowing that Augusta wouldn't have it any other way. You sit down in the same chair you sat in yesterday and eat breakfast while looking through The Daily Prophet, which was already laid out on the table. The rain is roaring outside and you can't help but wonder where Neville is.

As you finish the last of your tea you hear a loud scrambling noise. It's definitely coming from outside, so you walk over to the kitchen door and open the upper half to interrogate. At first, you hear nothing out of the ordinary, but just as you're about to close the door you hear the noise again and this time it's clear that it's from the old lodge. You quickly run to get your shoes from the front door before walking out into the rain and towards the lodge.

Even if you jogged there you still feel the cold sticky feeling of your hair clinging wetly to your neck as you sneak through the gap in the door. Inside you're met with plants, and a lot of them. They are on shelves, on the wooden desk, hanging from the ceiling, and scattered in pots and glasses on the floor. There are bags full of soil stacked in the corner and watering cans in different sizes and colours. In the back of the room stands Neville, hunched over a pot with a strange-looking plant, he has ditched his normal cardigan and is now sporting a plaid button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His brow is furrowed and his hands and arms are covered in soil.

You catch yourself staring and decide to let out a questionable cough to let your presence be known.

"Oh, hi. I didn't hear you coming", Neville says and stands up straight. He wipes his hands on the apron he's wearing around his hips and moves some tools around on the desk in a half-hearted attempt to make it seem tidier.

"Hi", you reply and take a step closer, looking curiously at the little sprouts that are lined up on a windowsill. "I was just curious what was in here. Professor Sprout would be proud".

"Thanks. I've tried to collect some rare ones over the years, but most of the time I'm just experimenting", Neville smiles and mindlessly flips through a notebook full of scribbles and drawings.

"That's really cool. I've heard that you're top of the class in herbology but I didn't know you had such talent".

"I wouldn't say that. I just find it interesting, there's so much to explore and... - and I'm talking too much". He chuckles nervously and rubs his neck, leaving traces of mud on his collar.

"No, please, tell me more. I'd love to hear, maybe I can graduate in herbology with an O if I pay attention to you", you assure him with an encouraging smile. There's a pleasant tingling in your chest as you watch his face break into excitement and he immediately waves you closer.