"I spy, with my little eye, something green."

It was a hissing tone, steeped with venom and wrapped in the exhausted urgency of one who doesn't tend to his own limits. Lovino stared, hands in his gloves on his hips, at the timid girl below him. Her own blue eyes were glazed. Obviously, she thought she could swim dazedly through the rest of class and focus on the project tomorrow, once she'd worked through her inner strife and slept for at least eight hours.

But plants couldn't wait until tomorrow. They didn't know the stress of schoolwork or the sickness of sleeplessness or the unceasing pressures of society. They were needy beings, and they couldn't tend themselves. All they could do was sit with their roots in the ground and their stems in the air utterly indifferent to their caretakers' inner strife.

"Your… your eyes are green…" the girl whispered, and it was fortunate he couldn't hear her over the answer to his own question.

"Weeds, Giulia!" Lovino howled. "Weeds everywhere! They're sucking up all the moisture from the soil!"

"Of course," Giulia said with hushed embarrassment. She brushed a mane of toffee curls behind her ears and pinched a leaf of the creeping weeds between her fingers.

"Of course!? That's all you can say? You don't automatically start weeding when you see weeds? You don't need my approval, you know! Don't you read the textbook and know those are weeds? Don't any of you read the textbook? Marco! Gabriele! Your soil's swimming with weeds! Your poor plant can't breathe, much less get a drink! Do you expect Signora Rosa to weed your box for you after you leave?"

"No, we expect you to weed it for us after we leave," Gabriele jeered. "You're the teacher, after all."

"L'uvano," Marco mocked. "L'uvano, son of the music caster."

A low wave of laughter washed around the greenhouse. Lovino's glare intensified. The stardust in his olive eyes flickered dangerously, and his wings twitched with the annoyance of one who had been slighted far too many times. For a moment, it seemed the plants themselves hummed, waiting for his commands.

This, Lovino discovered, was the trial of second year: the mockery of his competence. All the first month of this Manual Gardening course he'd been subject to derision. It had started with Signora Rosa declaring him her assistant and the greenhouse's supervisor when she wasn't present. Then he'd been seen tending to the wild grape vines springing up around the castle and was dubbed L'uvano. And now that he was master of the greenhouse by sheer competence, (or bossiness,) his peers found far too many ways to foist their distaste upon him.

While they completely ignored the ailing plants.

"We only have an hour. Pull on your gloves and start weeding," he growled.

"But look, L'uvano, it's a creeper paradise! You can't wait to get your hands on it!" Marco swooned with a wild gesture toward his and Gabriele's choking tomato plant. The poor thing was drooping, and its sole fruit was misshapen and yellow.

"Do you want to be a garden fairy or not? If you're not passionate now, you won't be when you're trying to grow fruit people will actually eat!"

"You're not even passionate, L'uvano. You curse every time you have to sit inside instead of playing with your leafy children."

"Just think about that," Gabriele grinned. "He thinks people aspire to be gardeners. He thinks being a gardener is special. Poor L'uvano. Your family must have really spoiled you out of pity to make up for your ugly voice, and now you think you're the savior of all plant-kind. I hate to break it to you, but anyone can be good with plants."

"And most don't talk to them," Marco added.

Lovino's fingertips sparked. He was about to lunge forward, but Giulia quickly caught his wrist. He turned back and leered at her. She stuttered, "L-let's just focus on our own plant. We need to weed the box."

"They need to weed theirs, too! I'm sick of them neglecting it!" He barked.

"But you always do such a better job than them when you weed it, anyway! You care, and they don't! Just… don't get into a fight over this. We can always tell Signora Rosa."

He jerked, but she held him firmly, her face pinking a bit in the tinted light of the greenhouse. With a huff, Lovino turned back to his own garden box. If this was to be another day of doing everyone else's work, he may as well begin with his own. He took off his gloves and kneaded the cool, damp soil. One by one, the weeds and creepers were ripped from beleaguered earth and deposited into a bucket beneath the box.

A fight would get him in trouble, he assured himself. He'd only be sent to Barbalosa and her ribbon-y, perfume-y office again. He had to remember where he stood on terms with Straffino's authorities.

It would not be good to fight, he thought when a mudball splattered on the back of his neck. Stunting these plants' growth would spoil the fruit, he thought when the jeering continued. It was a manual course, he thought when the two bullies mimicked his tenderness with the leaves and flowers.

And for once, in the fourth week of school, Lovino did not end up lashing out against his assailants, even verbally, when class ended. He merely gave a venomous smile to the two boys, and in a crude gesture, wiped the dirt from his face with hands that were twice as dirty. His wings twitched with bottled up rage before he stomped over to the bullies' garden box and ripped a handful of creepers from the soil.

"All of this every day. Cleaning up their mess and tending their plants because they want to mock me, and they think it's not special to be a garden fairy. Not special to be the one doing all the work and putting my heart into it. It's not like I'm going to leave their boxes full of weeds to spite them. These poor tomatoes don't deserve it."

"Don't let them get to you, Lovi," Giulia said as she took her own gloves off.

"I don't know what world you're living in where you can just ignore all the incompetence and idiocy, but here it's as clear as day," he retorted.

She frowned and went over to help him with the extra weeding. "Is it because of, you know, your family?"

"What about them?"

"Because of who they are—"

"Speak up."

"You're a natural garden fairy, and your father—"

"My bungled inheritance."

Giulia looked up at Lovino's stone-cold expression. His eyes darted around from weed to weed with quicksilver precision, and his hands could only follow, snapping stems and ripping roots. He was a master of his craft without even using magic. The passion he carried within was pure and obvious in his practice. Years he'd spent learning everything there was to know about gardening and botany. And now, Lovino stood angered by a few teasing fools!

"What are you trying to ask? Am I angry that I can't sing grapes into wine? It's not a sensitive question. I've been asked maybe fifty times already by the first-years. They follow me around like flies, whispering about how I look nothing like my famous grandfather. My hair is too dark, my wings are the color of boiled grape leaves, and my uniform is always stained with soil."

"So it does bother you."

"It never bothers me," he countered. "I was born with my own impressive talent. I'm a garden fairy, not a musician."

He said it mechanically, as if he'd tried to assure himself of its genuineness before.

"Do you think you're special?" Giulia asked.

"What did I just tell you, eh? I'm the only one who can save this greenhouse. Only someone special would find himself with that kind of task."

"But do you think your power is special? Your talent with the plants. Do you think you stand out, or are you bothered when you're teased? Tell me, Lovi. No one else is here, and as your friend, I want to know how you really feel."

"You can't appeal to Barbalosa about me. She only sees me as a troublemaker."

"You're not the one causing trouble this time. Just tell me how you feel, Lovi."

Lovino pondered her words as he worked to heal the ailing tomato plant. He knew he'd be scolded, but he couldn't stand to see such a sad plant among the healthy specimens of the greenhouse. He gently touched the stem, and with a little spell of love and care, the plant stood up straight and proud. Its leaves softened and flushed with chlorophyll, and the fruit swelled and rounded into a juicy red tomato. He then studied his handiwork, plucking the tomato off and making a plan to eat it with his lunch.

Was his talent special? Of course, he was special in every way. He was powerful and competent. Plants obeyed his commands and drank from his spells to grow strong and beautiful. He'd grown ripe tomatoes and gorgeous carnations and the juiciest, most flavorful grapes. Even before he could understand his gift, his father had given him a pair of scissors to celebrate his incredible abilities. Lovino was proud of his magic, and he was proud of himself.

Fiercely so.

But he could understand why he was teased. It wasn't rare to be gifted in botanical magic. Everyone in the greenhouse moments before had had some level of talent, (besides maybe a few incompetent, hair-raising, heart-tearing bastards.)

He could remember all his aunts and uncles and cousins coming to visit the villa in the summertime. They would greet him and kiss him on the cheeks before showering their praises upon adorable little Feliciano and his pre-dinner music. All anyone wanted to know was if Feliciano would sing another aria or play another galliard on his lute. Gigi and Tina's second son was intriguing! Spectacular! Extraordinary! He could sway emotions with a single note and manipulate the fabric of nature with a chord! He was a miniature of his father and a nostalgic portrait of his grandfather, the all-powerful Roma!

Meanwhile, the eldest son hid in the vineyards and made the window boxes look nice. Any fairy with a lick of talent could do as such.

No one would see Lovino's power like he did.

"Lovi…"

"Yes, fine. I'll admit that having the green touch isn't the same as having a magic voice that can make people cry tears of joy."

"Does your family make you feel that way?"

"Yes, of course they do! Stupid Feliciano—" He stopped himself. No one at Straffino knew Feliciano existed. Not students, anyway. The teachers knew a little about the Roma family, and there were always rumors, but the name "Feliciano" had never been spoken on campus. The description of a golden-winged redhead with a voice like vaporous jewels humming with the gossamer frequencies of the highest heaven had never been uttered.

"So there's a Feliciano who bothers you. Who is he?"

"Eh, he's just… just an annoying family member."

"Why don't you like him?"

Lovino sighed, finally looking Giulia in the eyes and causing her to stare back. If she was any other girl, he'd return her obvious flirting without a second thought. But Giulia's infatuation went beyond admiring his green eyes and skilled hands. She'd been asking questions like this since meeting him in History at the beginning of his first year, and her wiles of "friendship" too often bordered on straight-up nosiness.

Still, Lovino never admitted this to her. Instead, he blocked her questioning out as he would with any nosy gawker. He was the perpetually-scowling cynic, and she the romantic with a quest to burrow into his sour semblance and discover the troubled young man beneath.

He didn't reply to her question, instead mulling over the notion that plants could be so much easier to understand than girls.


The next morning, when Lovino was hungry and sleepy and wanted to curse everything into the ground, (until he realized cursing things into the ground would poison the plants,) he was sitting at a table in the floating library and fighting the urge to pass the time by sprouting the seeds in his pocket.

On either side of him were the only ones he'd even consider calling his friends. These were Giulia, who was most likely daydreaming about catching him in a hug unawares, and his roommate Gherardo, who proved to be an even bigger pain, as he slept in the same room.

The flamboyant Flavio was generous enough to transfer to an art school in Amotoile, leaving Lovino to dwell with the foolish Gherardo. The prick always sat with a poor fabrication of a countenance. Sometimes he wore the guise of one conceited in his wealth, and sometimes he presented himself with a shallow emulation of Lovino's practiced scowl. To put it simply, Gherardo was an actor — pretending to be a character when he was quite obviously a nobody.

"Which theory do you believe?" Gherardo asked, nudging Lovino with his deep blue, cuff-linked sleeve. Purple wings with pointed tips held themselves trim and polished behind him.

"Theory of what?"

"So you haven't been reading."

"Of course I haven't been reading. I wasn't able to finish my dream this morning thanks to your griping. How am I supposed to focus on reading when I don't know what happened to the princess?"

The arrogant mold of Gherardo's face broke, and Lovino cracked a wry smile. At least his situation provided him with some entertainment.

"I wasn't griping."

"You were whining loudly about something. I think it was your schoolwork. Now let's see. That's the fifth time this week I've heard you gripe about finishing your schoolwork in the morning before class, and today happens to be Friday, which means you can't go one day without losing track of your assignments."

Gherardo's purple wings twitched in annoyance. "What about you cursing and complaining in the evenings about how none of your homework is going to help you become the world's greatest garden fairy, eh?"

The wry little smile stretched into a smirk. "I may complain, but at least I have a work ethic and a goal in mind. I'm the laziest fairy in Allegria and Straffino's biggest troublemaker, and I still put my mind into my schoolwork. Why are you here again? Something about your family's glory?"

This was the part when he knew Giulia wanted to interfere, but such interference would stop him from smiling. How the three of them tolerated each other enough to be friends, (or something of that sort,) he had no idea.

Gherardo grumbled to himself, but Lovino turned his attention faithfully to his textbook and decided he may as well begin to study the next chapter in the history of Allegria. It was now when he saw what his roommate had been referring to: the theories of why the musical gift had begun to thin in the first place.

"It is unknown what caused the Gift of Music to slip from winged fairies' grasp. One popular theory, which complements most historical writings from the Isle of Rain around the 12th century, begins with all fair folk living together as one unified nation…"

"They're trying to make this theory stuff too technical," Lovino whined. "Everyone knows that story. It's a classic fairytale."

Giulia nodded, giving a little smile and pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. "That's the way magical history is. It's like it combines historical writings with folklore."

"So you don't know who to believe."

"Cynic," Gherardo muttered.

Lovino leaned back in his chair and recited without any expression:

"Three nations of the fair folk all lived together as one nation: the Fae of Light, gifted with music, the Fae of Darkness, gifted with illusions, and the Fae of All Magic, gifted with all the powers of nature, light and dark. The Fae of All Magic's Alderking wanted to ally with humans. The humans wouldn't accept them because they were too magical. The Fae of Darkness protested because they hated progress."

"The Fae of All Magic cursed the Fae of Darkness by filling them up with power. The Fae of All Magic became mundane enough to be accepted, and the Fae of Darkness became the changelings." Gherardo added.

"And some people think that mythical curse is the reason why the Gift of Music began to thin out and everyone's magic got weaker," Lovino scoffed. "But seriously, who would believe that? Who would even believe that's how the hideous changelings came into being? They've been real since light and dark magic separated at the beginning of time. They're made of nothing but pure evil, stealing away children and taking their shapes and lives. No creature that transforms into a child to steal his life was ever once good, and it's even less likely that said creatures once danced with good, winged fairies like us. There was never a 'Fae of Darkness.' Only beautiful fairies and ugly imps."

"You didn't have to say that much to prove you don't support the theory," Gherardo said, narrowing his eyes.

"Eh, shut up. The fairytale is from the Isle of Rain, anyway. You know those wingless weirdos even reject the notion that they once danced in the forest wearing nothing but berries and spider silk. If they even reject it, it can't be true."

Giulia huffed. "Then why did the winged fairies of Allegria lose their power of music?"

"Oh, not everyone did," Lovino muttered.

She covered her mouth. "Sorry. I know it's a sensitive topic for you."

"I told you already it's not sensitive. Lovino Vargas Roma, son of Gianfranco Roma, son of Roma, the most powerful music-casting fairy of the modern age, is not a music caster. He's an ordinary garden fairy whose name won't be written into history."

"Lovi!"

"Unless, he continued, "he proves that his power is strong enough to be recognized. And that's why I do my pointless homework, unlike Gherardo."

Gherardo attempted to scowl like only Lovino could, but his face would forever be without the heavy lines folded into the skin from so many years of disappointment.

Giulia, on the other hand, wasn't ready to give up on her excavation of Lovino's inner strife. "Why won't you be written into history as you are? The teachers may not want to admit it, but you're the most powerful second-year even with your narrow field of interest. You are a freaking Roma! The little first-years follow you around!"

"To ask me if I would sing for them," Lovino droned.

"Then just show them what you can do with plants! Why do you have to push yourself to get stronger? What's with all this 'greatest garden fairy who ever lived' business? There's a reason why you let Gabriele and Marco's words get to you, and the sooner you let your friends help, the sooner we can make you see just how special your botanical talent is."

"I know what you're trying to do," he scoffed. "You can't pull me out of my convictions. I have to get stronger. Everyone's pushing me."

"No one's pushing you, and you have the power your grandfather was known for. It's just concentrated differently. And who is this Feliciano?"

"Oh, you mean his brother?" Gherardo asked ever so casually. His arrogant smirk was back.

"You have a brother, Lovi?"

"No, I do not have a brother!"

"He gets mail from him all the time," the prick continued. "Messy loopy handwriting, tomato sauce stains on the stationery."

"Are you reading my mail!?" Lovino howled. (He was immediately silenced by the librarian literally hovering just above them.)

"I know you read it at night when you think I'm asleep. Right after you say goodnight to the petunia."

"And how would I be saying goodnight to the petunia? The petunia is down in the lobby. The one in our room is a potted bunch of geraniums who would be very offended to hear you call them petunias."

"Well, said potted geraniums rest on top of all your letters from your little brother Feliciano."

Giulia tried to make herself sensible in the midst of her giggling. "Oh, you have a brother, Lovi! That's wonderful! Is he a garden fairy, too? How old is he?"

Lovino's face fell. He glanced around wildly, trying to see if any gawkers were around. Oh, if anyone heard, he'd be ruined! They'd all know that Lovino was not only not the true heir of Roma's power, but also not the true heir of Roma's fortune! His brother was so much more powerful! Powerful enough that he couldn't even control his damn power half the time!

Every time Feliciano sighed in his sleep, Lovino would have visions of sweet tomatoes and feel his heart long for the vineyards of summer! No wonder that human Herr Edelstein must have hated him! The boy radiated magic whenever he did something even remotely musical!

It was too late. By the grimace Lovino made as these thoughts rolled through his head, both of his companions deduced the answer.

"It skipped you," Gherardo put simply. "You got some common plant power, and little Feliciano… Oh, that's why he draws little music notes in the margins of his letters!"

"Your little brother… has the Gift," Giulia whispered. "And that's why you're not proud of being a Roma. Oh, he's going to enroll here eventually, isn't he? And then, then his power will be cultivated just like your father's and your grandfather's… and you must be afraid of that, though you make yourself up to be proud. You feel like it's a race against time, and if you don't make yourself as powerful as you can possibly be—"

"I am not your romance novel protagonist!" Lovino shouted. And with that, he packed up his schoolbag and left the floating library to fly off in whatever direction the wind happened to be blowing, (only losing his balance once or twice.)


Lovino refrained from speaking to either of them for the rest of the day, and over the next week, for that matter. He was deathly afraid of what rumors may spread about him after the revelation in the library, and he didn't entirely trust Gherardo to keep quiet about Lovino's brother problems.

In the greenhouse, he weeded his box, (and a few other boxes,) without so much as noticing Giulia. This frustrated her to no end, he knew, but he wasn't about to let her pry into his family life when she'd struck such a chord with his inner workings.

"Then his power will be cultivated…" It was the truth, and Lovino knew it all too well. Feliciano was ecstatic to enroll in Straffino once he came of age, and when he stepped foot on campus, the faculty would forget all about swearing, scowling Lovino and instead put all their efforts into honing Feliciano's power until it was polished, sharp, and stronger than even the third-years' magic.

Lovino had to become a legend. He had to become stronger. That was why he was pushed in his first year! He had potential with his gift, and maybe, just maybe, if he put his back into it—

"No magic in the stands, Signor Vargas Roma."

Lovino jolted. He shivered in his coat before realizing the tomato seeds in his pocket had sprouted and were twisting around his sleeve.

He was tucked just within the corner of the stands watching the Saturday night flying football match between Catolavie Hall and Hadrea House. Fairy dust rained down to the grass below as each team's seven players performed a show of aerial acrobatics to maneuver a gravity-defying ball through the air. Before each of two netted goals on pedestals was a free-flying goalie, and unique to the game were two casters who inhibited each other's teams with quick spellwork bursting out in a spectacle of colors and effects.

Lovino turned to see Headmistress Barbalosa standing beside him, her wings wrapped in a ribboned blanket she most likely crocheted herself. She eyed him critically, and he gave a wry smile as he released his unconscious spell.

"Cheering on your own team?" She asked casually.

"More like scoffing at them. Gherardo is a terrible caster. He doesn't know at all what he's doing. The ground is wet. Why would he try an earth-raising spell when it's just going to crumble into mud? He's let the other team score two goals already! I could've blocked both of them easily."

"Really?"

"Casters are allowed three items on their person. All I'd need are seeds for creepers that I could grow and use as nets. I have it all planned out in my head."

He did have it all planned out in his head. But seeing as the principal element of flying football was flying, and seeing as a crash in the lake had landed Lovino in remedial flying lessons every Sunday at noon, the two of them were not destined to mix this year.

"I noticed you weren't sitting with your friends."

Lovino huffed. Oh, if she started in with the friendship speech again…

"Friends can become one's greatest allies."

"Yeah, and bonding and the strength of love and the magic of positive experiences and all that," he snapped. "I've heard all this before."

"Then why have you been avoiding them?"

Lovino fidgeted in place. She'd sounded stern, which he was used to, but why now? Why, when it was outside school hours and he was trying to enjoy a match without being reminded of his troubles?

Then Barbalosa placed her long blue fingernails on his shoulder. "Envy is a dangerous source of ambition."

He shivered and shrugged to make her take her hand away. She was being all creepy and wise again. What could she even be referring to? Envy? Ambition? Danger? Why couldn't she just scold him for swearing at first-years instead of prying into his personal matters like Giulia?

Giulia.

"You were talking to Giulia, weren't you?"

Barbalosa tried her best to give a civil smile. "She didn't tell me everything, but she told me she was worried for you. I'm glad she did. It does make your case a little easier to understand."

"So now I'm a case."

"I now understand that your younger brother is a music caster. Is this true?"

He saw the sparkle in her eyes. She was more than interested in learning about a potential protégé — a fairy to take under her wings who could surprise her with his talents and challenge her with his untempered power. She hadn't seen such a fairy since Gigi Roma entered the scene with his ability to make instruments float and accompany him on their own.

"His name is Feliciano, and yes, he's a crazy-powerful music caster," he said almost sadly. There was no going back, and fate was the cruelest of spirits.

"How old is he?"

"Fourteen."

"And what is his disposition?"

"Why do you need to know that? I don't know. He's happy all the time, probably because everyone likes him so much. I can tell you already like him, and you haven't even met him."

"Lovino, I want you to stop denying that you're envious of your brother."

"I'm not envious! I'm happy for him! He deserves all the praise he gets! His voice is beautiful! I just…"

"You what?"

"You don't need to know. Stop being manipulative. You'll find some way to scold me. I'm trying to enjoy myself here."

The headmistress sighed. "I don't want to scold you, Lovino. I really do care about you. I care enough to see that while you may love your brother, you also carry a dark seed of envy within yourself. Giulia told me about the teasing you receive in the greenhouse. You believe that because you were born with a… common talent, you have no hope of being as celebrated as Feliciano is destined to be."

"Destined? Destined!? I knew it! You want him! You were just waiting to hear the rumors are true and that there's another Roma son! Well, good news for you! He's absolutely delighted to be accepted to your school! He writes about it in letters all the time! He'll be even more diligent than I am! You won't have to worry about him being lazy or cursing at first-years or picking fights or falling asleep in books or only being talented in the common field of garden magic!"

By this time, quite a few students around him had turned their heads to look. Whisperings floated around the stands, and in the midst of it all, Lovino saw Giulia, who scrunched her brow and bit her lip in worry.

Barbalosa raised her hand, with a feeling of falling and a puff of whitish-blue mist, the two of them were transported to her office.

"Will you talk now, seeing as we are in privacy?"

"No, and thanks for ruining the night. Now I won't be able to see the end of the match." Lovino, seeing no way out of this, plopped himself down in the pink velvet chair and crossed his arms while the headmistress lit a few cinnamon-scented candles with a snap of her fingers.

"Your affliction of the heart is much more serious than any flying football match. It must be dealt with before you act on it in a negative way."

"Look, I was envious of him as a kid, all right? But I've grown past that. I've accepted my place in the world."

"But you don't accept yourself. If you had accepted yourself, you would not be afraid of your friends learning of your brother's existence. You would not care about the rarity of your gift, and you would not be of the mindset that you will always be pushed aside unless you 'prove' yourself. Do not let your envy fuel your ambition, Lovino. Remember that negative emotions, if not balanced with positive ones, can be detrimental to a fairy's magic and wellbeing."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not going over to the dark side," he sneered.

"I certainly hope not! I see potential in you, though you may not see our relationship as such." With a flick of her wrist, Barbalosa warmed two cups of tea to steaming and offered one to him. He scrunched his nose, but took it anyway.

"I see potential in myself as well," Lovino said, stirring his tea.

"Do you?"

"Yes, but no one else will. You'll forget about me when you meet Feliciano."

"You are envious."

"Maybe I am, but no one said competition is a bad thing."

"I am telling you that if you let your envy rule how you think and feel, you'll find yourself quite unsatisfied when you do perform a feat to be proud of."

"So you're not proud of me?"

The argument lasted half an hour, and by the end, the headmistress had made no progress in convincing Lovino of the danger his mindset imposed. With a sterner tone than she would have liked, she dismissed him, and he made the chilly flight back to Catolavie Hall.

He said goodnight to the petunia, ascended the stairs, and entered his room. Gherardo had not yet returned, which meant the match wasn't yet over, and Lovino had some time to himself. He flopped down on his bed and ran his hands through his hair.

"I've done it this time," he told himself. "Now everyone's going to be asking me questions about who Feliciano is and why I shouted at Barbalosa. Giulia will probably have something fresh for me tomorrow about why I'm not telling her anything. I'm not even her boyfriend, and she makes everything so dramatic."

Sighing, he went through his nightly routine of washing his wings and snuggling into his green pajamas. It was then when he noticed an envelope resting on his pillow. Lovino recognized the handwriting immediately. Another letter from Feliciano.

"Might as well see what he wants," he muttered as he broke the wax seal imprinted with a laurel branch.

Dear Lovi,

I hope everything is going well for you at school! Did you pass your big potionery exam? What did you have to make? Is it true that you have to drink the potion yourself? How are your friends? Are you playing flying football? How is the pasta there? Are you washing your wings every night?

I don't even know why I'm asking so many questions. The truth is, it's time for me to go back to Herr Edelstein's house for my tutoring, and because it's on the way, I've decided to take a few days and visit you at Straffino! I've just been dying to see the campus! Maybe you can show me that place where Grandpa Roma said he first kissed Nonna! And you have to show me all the best study spaces! I want to meet the professors, too!

I'll be there very soon! Maybe even as soon as you get this letter! If I'm not, then I sent along something to remind you of home. It's a packet of grape seeds from the vineyard. Do what you like with them. I'll have more with me when I come!

Love,

Feliciano

"He's… coming," Lovino whispered. "He's coming here to meet the professors and see the campus."

Without a second thought, he pulled himself up from the bed, opened the window, and screamed as loud as he could, howling his obscenities out into the night air like a wounded wolf. His wings flicked up and fluttered, knocking books off the side table and whipping against the bedposts until they pulsed with faint pain.

CRASH.

Lovino returned to earth and looked tearfully at the upset pot of geraniums spilling soil over the floor. He kneeled down, scooping up the shards of ceramic and placing them back on the side table. Clods of dirt stained all of Feliciano's previous letters and spattered his pair of scissors.

To distract him for a moment, he fished out his basic spellbook and performed a minor spell to seal the ceramic back together, then stroked the petals, apologizing profusely for his carelessness. It was then when he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Lovino clapped his hands, and the giant firefly sitting in the lamp above his bed flickered off its rear and flew out the window for the night.

Lovino hunched under his blankets when Gherardo walked in and tossed his flying cleats under his bed. With the way he was sniveling, Lovino could only assume he'd lost his team the match and tried to argue with them about it. This, however, couldn't distract Lovino from his own current pain. The thoughts thundered through his brain like wild horses.

Feliciano is coming. Everyone will meet him. The school will only want my brother's power. All my hard work will be for nothing. There isn't enough time to become a legend. No one thinks a garden fairy should feel as much pride in his abilities as I do.

But suddenly, and very annoyingly, another voice decided to enter his mind. It was high-pitched and vain, and Lovino felt embarrassed to know exactly who owned it.

"Your power is amazing!"


~N~

I tried to fill this segment of the story will all the Harry Potter and Winx Club vibes I could! "Grape Leaves" will be concluded in Part 3!

Gherardo is Genoa, and L'uvano is a pun on l'uva, which is Italian for "the grape."

Published on FanFiction . net December 27th, 2018 by Syntax-N. Reposters will be cursed.