AN: Things have been busy, as always, hence the lack of updating. But I pushed myself to get this done today in celebration of Fred and George's birthday! Happy April Fool's, everyone!
Chapter Ten
Fred
Parkinson decided to show up to class the following day, but very pointedly ignored him. No matter how many times he tried to catch her attention in Herbology, she focused solely on copying the notes which Sprout scribbled on the mobile board. Finally he opened his mouth to say something to her, but Professor Sprout clapped her hands together and began to speak.
"Right," she said, catching the attention of the class. Everyone had been given ample time to jot down the notes and it was time to move on. "Now that we know the many properties of Shrivelfig, we'll move on to harvesting and replanting. The Shrivelfig will lose its leaves every autumn, but it is an aggressive plant which allows it to survive even in the deepest winters. We're going to help them along by getting them settled into cozy new pots for the autumn -"
It was weird wanting Parkinson to acknowledge him. The defiance in her refusal to look at him was driving Fred absolutely mad. Surely she wasn't cross he'd shoved her the night before? Montague was right there, he'd have raised seven levels of Hell if he'd caught them after hours taking a stroll!
Professor Sprout was splitting everyone into groups of four and directing them to the lab tables in the center of all the plants. "And you four there in the corner," she said, pointing at Fred, George, Lee, and Parkinson. "You'll be at table nine."
Even this did not get a rise out of Parkinson. She simply rolled up her notes, tucked them away in her bag, and took her things to table nine without a word. Bloody hell, what was her deal? They'd had a right laugh the night before, hadn't they? Where was that Parkinson?
Fred, George, and Lee followed Parkinson over to their table. She sat on the very edge of her stool and looked with intense concentration at Professor Sprout.
"Oi, come off it, Parkinson. What's your deal?" he finally said. Lee and George gave each other sideways glances, then looked over to the pair opposite them. Fred did not bother looking at his brother and mate - his eyes were trained right on her.
It seemed being addressed directly and with an audience gave her no choice. Parkinson let out a little sigh, then turn her head to Fred, her eyes skipping over George and Lee.
"What?" she said, testily. "I'm trying to participate in class."
Fred rolled his eyes so hard he feared one might pop out and go scurrying across the floor. For the second time, he opened his mouth to say something and was interrupted by Professor Sprout.
"Here we are," she said, waddling over with a long tray of Shrivelfigs. Their purple leaves sprouted out nearly a foot above the dirt. "So you'll just nip the leaves," she said, making a scissor motion with her fingers. "And put those aside in the bowls Longbottom is passing out. Spinnet is coming around with the new pots and Bell has the dragon dung. You'll want them a good six inches under the topsoil -"
Fred lost track of her prattling on when Alicia arrived at his side with a stack of terracotta pots which she placed in the middle of the table. "Look alive, boys," she said with her usual sly grin, throwing eyes at Fred before sauntering off. Lee whistled quietly.
"She's turnin' up the heat this year," he said, giving Fred a bawdy wink. Everyone knew Alicia had fancied Fred since fifth year.
"Shut it," Fred mumbled, paying very close attention to receiving the dragon dung from Katie. Honestly, it wasn't as if there was anything wrong with Alicia...he just didn't fancy her. And that would be really unfair to her, wouldn't it, if he starting seeing her without liking her the same?
"And how is Lizzie doing?" Professor Sprout asked Parkinson quietly. This seemed to merit a bright smile out of her.
"Oh, quite well, Professor," Parkinson said, positively beaming. "She grew nearly three inches over holiday."
"Splendid, splendid!" Professor Sprout was saying, but Fred lost track of the conversation when Neville came bounding up with a large bronze bowl.
"For your clippings," he wheezed, setting the heavy bowl down with a large thud and then doubling back to grab another for the next table. Once everything was all settled and in place, Fred turned his attention back to Parkinson. She was gently - almost lovingly - extracting one of the Shrivelfigs from the soil.
"Who's Lizzie?" he said in an annoying tone, not bothering to start working. Lee and George hadn't either, but rather sat sleepily and watched Parkinson work. Fred leaned over and balanced his chin on his fist, elbow holding his weight.
Parkinson turned around and made a face at seeing how close he was to her. With a look of disgruntled disgust, she turned back toward the task at hand, leaning away from him slightly.
"My Venomous Tentacula plant," she said evenly, as if Lizzie was not a highly dangerous plant. All three of the boys exchanged wide-eyed looks.
"Your...what?" asked Lee. Parkinson peeked up and eyed him. Fred wasn't sure Lee and Parkinson had ever spoken to before.
"My Venomous Tentacula plant," she repeated, this time slower as if Lee had something wrong with him. "Listen, are you lot going to help or am I going to do all the work for our table?"
Fred shot Georgie a wicked look and they both said, "You're doing the work," at the same time. Parkinson's neck grew a bit red.
"Ridiculous," she muttered under her breath. Lee grinned and let his head thunk down on the table. It was just a few moments before his breathing evened out and he was asleep. His ability to conk out anywhere was borderline astounding.
Fred again rolled his eyes and pulled a few of the planters toward himself, filling them with dragon dung. Parkinson was working on pruning their leaves and tossing them into the bronze bowl. "What's ridiculous is that you have a Venomous Tentacula plant and you never told me," he said, as if that would be the obvious thing to do.
Parkinson continued pruning, not bothering to look away from her work. "I didn't realize it was worth telling," she said, giving them each a sly look from the corner of her eye. "Why would that be of any interest to you?"
George leaned across the table, grabbing a few of the pots himself to disguise the conversation. "Because Fred and I have been in the market all summer looking to buy Venomous Tentacula seeds," he said quietly. "Our last supplier kept trying to charge us twenty galleons a dozen."
Parkinson abruptly stopped what she was doing and turned toward them, her brow scrunched in confusion. "Twenty galleons a dozen? Well, then your supplier is a right thief, aren't they?"
Fred exchanged a grin with George. Their supplier had been Mundungus Fletcher who was very much a right thief.
"Doesn't matter," they both said in unison, then Fred leaned a little closer and spoke alone. "It's difficult getting a regular supplier because most of the supplies are...well -"
"Stolen?" Parkinson said matter-of-factly. She turned and gave him a sharp look, that brow of hers arched.
"We don't know," George said with a grin. "Don't know where any of it came from. Plus, they aren't the easiest seeds to gather."
Parkinson hummed and went back to work, apparently done with the conversation. The twins exchanged looks once more and Fred continued, abandoning the dragon dung completely. "Look, Parkinson," he said quietly. "We'd pay well for it. If you could extract seeds from your plant, I mean. Might make yourself a nice bit of money on the side supplying for us."
Not to mention Mundungus had told them he wouldn't be able to get the seeds anymore due to a business arrangement gone bad somewhere higher up the line. Of the two dozen he'd brought to Grimmauld Place at summer's end, only four remained.
Parkinson was working on the last Shrivelfig, the bright purple leaves held gently between her fingers as she sheared them. "And what -," she said, not looking away from her hands, "- would you be wanting Venomous Tentacula seeds for?"
"Skiving Snackboxes," they said together.
Parkinson put the last of the violet leaves in the bowl and turned to them with a blank expression. "What?" she said.
"Skiving Snackboxes," they repeated in unison. This time George took the lead. "Never mind what they are," he said. "But we need the seeds for a bit of experimenting. What do you say?"
They were expecting a hard-driven girl like Parkinson to set a high price they would have to talk down.
"I say no," she said, turning back to the work in front of her.
No matter how many times they prodded or bothered her, from them on out she wouldn't acknowledge either of them. It wasn't as if she were angry, but rather just tired of them. It made them both feel rather put out, especially knowing she had access to something they desperately needed.
Parkinson was gone the moment the bell rang, leaving them to clean up the mess. Despite scoffing at her, they both knew it was only fair as she did most of their table's work and gotten them a high group score. Lee mumbled something and his head shut up, eyes wide. "No, not the chickens, Mum. Not chickens!" he said, half still in a dream.
"You tell her, Lee," Fred said with a chuckle. Lee looked around, trying to figure out where he was.
"Shame about Parkinson," George said quietly, gathering his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. Lee was absentmindedly grabbing his things. Fred wasn't sure he even knew what class they were in or where they were going next.
"I'll get her to fold," Fred said with resolution. "Just gotta be persistent."
George fiddled with the strap of his bag for a moment. "Be careful, mate," he said quietly. "You go following Parkinson around, people will be liable to think you fancy her."
Fred shot a look at George, but he was just giving his twin the soft smile he'd always had - the one when he always knew better. The one that drove Fred nuts.