reticent \RET-ih-suhnt\, adjective:
1. Inclined to keep
silent; reserved; uncommunicative.
2. Restrained or
reserved in style.
3. Reluctant; unwilling.
Herbology, again. Morag dreaded the class. She could study for hours and still not know what was going on. How far was she supposed to take the pruning? When did she know if it has enough water? And great G's and G's, she hadn't the faintest trace of ability when it came to making arrangements.
That was why she hated the holidays at Hogwarts. Even Muggle ones, since the class decorated for them "as practice" and because they were covered in their Muggle Studies classes. She got no break. Solstice and Christmas season, Easter, Valentines, St. Patrick's Day. Too many ruddy arrangements.
"Morag?" Professor Sprout interrupted with a gentle—almost sympathetic—look. "Your belladonna doesn't appear to be responding well to your touch…"
Morag's disappointment stirred, but she held her tongue. Always the reticent student. Her teacher was not finished.
"Many of the other students are pairing up. Would you wish to do that?"
The tall, awkward girl spared a look around and resisted the urge to shake her head in an ashamed manner. She wouldn't want to do it anyway, but she didn't have a choice—her friends had all paired up without her, knowing that she liked to do things on her own. "No thank you, Professor Sprout."
A voice piped up to her left. "I'll be her partner, Professor Sprout!"
Morag shot a glance to her left and sucked in her breath. Susan Bones, the short and reasonably chubby girl from Hufflepuff. The one that was always, always trying to be friends with her. Susan was standing there, hands clasped in front of her, with that friendly smile below her freckled face.
"Will that do for you, Morag?"
The girl paused and then acquiesced with a nod. Professor Sprout walked away smiling, thinking she had solved everything. Morag sighed slowly through her teeth and hung on to the greenhouse table with tight fingers.
"Uh…why is your plant on its side?" Susan asked quietly as she stepped up to Morag's area. Their robes stirred as their hips brushed. The Ravenclaw closed her eyes and hid a grin behind her arm.
"It fell over and I lack the motivation to set it right."
"Well, that's rude," the red-haired girl chided with a kind ring in her voice as she looked to the little plant, "It's living too, you know."
"And terribly responsive," the other retorted. "If it would at least respond with an 'ouch' I would know what I'm doing wrong."
Bones laughed with an odd friendliness. "You wouldn't want that. It'd be a constant 'ouch.'"
Morag looked up, surprised. That was a witty response from a Hufflepuff. She wasn't saying they weren't witty, but…
"Maybe it would give me a headache bad enough to sneak off to the infirmary…"
Susan shook her head and grabbed Mandy's hands.
"Here, do this," the shorter girl said as she guided the other's hands. Soon they had the plant right side up, weeded, groomed, pruned, fertilized, watered, and protected by a few simple spells. Morag refused to let her mind wonder at the amount of work that had to be done on one single plant. There were three other greenhouses. How could anyone put up with it?
"This is my favorite class." Amiable Susan was at it again. Morag looked over at the only girl that she ever scorned. Why? Because the girl wanted to be friends with her, and was a Hufflepuff? No. Morag had some Hufflepuff friends that she considered dear to her. What was it about Susan that Morag couldn't stand?
"Do you…want to try getting together at some point? I could teach you some tricks for Herbology," Susan offered. She was looking down at her toes, which were surely wiggling in her shoes. "I mean, it could be fun."
"Fun. Yes, fun. Why don't we just pluck off our toenails one by one with heated tweezers?" Morag countered. Her voice was surprisingly soft, though—contemplative. She could use the help. She could use another friend… Susan was friend worthy, wasn't she? Obviously at least a little courageous. Skilled with Herbology. Reasonably witty…
"Sure."
Susan sighed in relief and rested against the table. "I'll arrange something with Professor Sprout and send you an owl by dinner."
Morag nodded and shrugged one shoulder, grinning. "Sounds good to me."
The Hufflepuff's face lit up. Morag could guess something odd was about to—
Her thoughts were broken when a body was pressed up against hers. Susan Bones, the Hufflepuff Herbology Genius, was hugging her. Hard. In a greenhouse. And, apparently, saying something.
"Thank you! We'll have so much fun."
The dark-haired girl blushed and scolded her skin for warming. She attempted to blame it on the sun peeking through the glass, shining on the red strands in her dark hair and brushing against her lightly freckled skin. She knew that wasn't the case.
That was why she wasn't friends with Susan Bones.
Because she didn't want to be just friends.
