I got up early the next morning before the boys so I could sneak back to my dorm in peace. After I showered and got ready, I threw on a green wool sweater over my clothes and spent the next forty-five minutes meditating out on the grounds. This morning, however, I didn't sit on the grass in my secluded corner of the grounds—I walked, quietly, along the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
I could feel the trees calling me—it was exciting, thrilling, to know that some of them were awake. When I say "awake", I only mean that they can think and speak, as opposed to the others who had lost their consciousness or had been seeded without them. I wanted desperately to meet them, to talk to them, to waste long hours in their presence...but I also knew there were dangerous creatures throughout that ancient forest, and it would be more than stupid to go alone.
My first class—charms--was in fifteen minutes, so I hurried to the Great Hall to grab some breakfast. Neville was waiting for me patiently. "Sorry," I mumbled through a mouthful of muffin and jam, "I went for a walk and lost track of time."
"S'okay," he said, "But we need to hurry."
He turned and I followed him out of the hall. Neville and I always walked to charms together—normally because we were the first Gryffindors up in the morning and consequently the first to finish eating. We usually spent the rest of our time before class talking with each other about something that happened in the greenhouse, a few trouble's either of us had had in class the day before, or how our nights went. This morning, he didn't have to ask how I slept.
We were almost to the charms classroom when I heard, "Sophie!--Neville."
I stopped and turned around. Neville noticed and stopped. Seamus jogged for a few seconds to catch up to us. "Good morning, Sophie," he said.
I greeted him just outside the classroom and the three of us found our seats in the second row. I dropped my heavy book bag on the table and flopped down in the seat between Neville and Seamus.
"Today, students," Professor Flitwick began, "We must look at the hummingbird." He waved his wand at the chalkboard--a stick of yellow chalk flew into the air, and began to draw a tiny bird dipping its long slender beak into a bright yellow flower. He flicked his wand again and the chalk fell to the gray metal shelf at the bottom of the board, and the sketched hummingbird began to beat its chalky wings. "See how the bird darts back and forth, notice the way it angles it's wings..."
I'm going to be honest here—I couldn't charm even one feather to save my life.
Charms is my weakest are of magical expertise, and I dread coming to this class. Green things are meant to stay rooted in the ground—I swear the reason I just can't grasp this subject is because trees don't fly. I can get something up into the air sometimes, and I can make it sway side to side—I can even slow a falling object to the point where it almost hovers. Anything more than that, and I am useless.
Thirty minutes into class—thirty minutes of waving a fake wand to protect the secret of my green magic; thirty minutes of repeating useless magical codes; thirty minutes of no results—and I was ready to scream. Frustration burned through me like poison. Heat rose in my face and chest until I was ready to scream. Suddenly, in the middle of muttering the incantation through gritted teeth my acorn necklace began to hum. Immediately I dropped my hand holding the fake wand and sat down.
The hum against my chest was so soothing and had instant effect on my mind and body. I was breathing easier and my anger cooled and disappeared. I touched the necklace with my left hand, and a vision of Trek flashed before my mind. My skin flared in a memory of the feel of lying in his bows—and I smiled. I was calm again.
"I like your necklace," Seamus said. He was looking at me intently. He reached out and curled his fingers around the amber-encased acorn, brushing my hand as I let go of it, and settling lightly against the warm skin just under the hollow of my neck. My face flushed.
"Where did you get it," he asked. He peered at it curiously.
"My best friend back home made it for me," I said. Neville was watching Seamus, frowning.
"Mr. Finnigan," Professor Flitwick interjected, "Eyes up front, please."
Seamus dropped his hand from my necklace, "Sorry, Professor."
I stared at my fake wand and sighed--back to charm work.
By the end of class, Professor Flitwick had to get Seamus' attention three times to stop him from distracting me, and finally Flitwick got so frustrated he gave Seamus detention...for this Saturday.
"But it's a Hogsmeade weekend--"
"Nine o'clock, in my office. Bright and early."
Seamus scowled as we were excused from class. Neville and I were off to the greenhouses, and when we reached the ground floor Seamus finally spoke to me. "I'm sorry about this weekend, Sophie."
"Oh, hey," I said, "It's not your fault--"
"Yes it is," he started.
"Well, yeah, but what I mean is--don't feel bad. Neville will go with me."
He smiled half-heartedly, eying Neville, "Alright, as long as you aren't mad--"
"We should get going," Neville interrupted.
"See you tomorrow afternoon in the common room? After you get back?" Seamus asked quietly. He grabbed my hand lightly.
I stared at my hand in his, "Uh, yeah...I guess so."
He grinned, "Great." He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it, "Bye, Sophie." I blushed and a shy smile curled into the corners of my lips.
Neville grasped my arm urgently, "Come on, Soph."
"Bye," I called as Neville dragged me away to the greenhouses. As I nearly jogged to keep up with him, I thought about Seamus and how genuinely sorry I was that our date was canceled. By the time we reached the greenhouses my mind was lost to a serenade of "Hogwarts' hottest couple."
Twenty minutes into an autopilot routine of watering, trimming, and fertilizing my plants, I realized that Neville--usually talkative and energetic—hadn't spoken since we'd left Seamus in the front hall.
"Is something wrong?" I asked him, "Why are you so quiet?"
"No—nothing is wrong," he answered. He didn't look at me. "Was I quiet?"
"Yes," I said, frowning, "You're not getting sick are you?" I laid the back of my hand against his forehead, "Cause we could take a break now and I could walk with you to the hospital wing."
He grasped my hand and slowly lowered it away from his face. He stared at my face for a moment or two, "Really, Soph, I'm alright." He let go of my hand and turned back to pruning.
"Your skin--" I said, "It's really warm."
And soft. And he smelled good. I shook my head. Where were those thoughts coming from? I turned away from him.
"You know," I said to him, "I can see your magic sometimes. It's green."
"Green?"
"Yes." I smiled, "Not 'Green' magic, like mine, but sometimes when I'm not really looking for it I can the magic in your veins, streams of glowing green." I paused, "I see it in myself in the mornings when I meditate, and in the growing things on the grounds, and in the forest."
"The forest?" he asked, alarmed. He grabbed my arm desperately, "Did you go in there?"
"No!" I answered, "Not yet, anyway."
"Not ever," he corrected, "Don't ever go in there."
"Why not?"
"Why do you want to?" He stared into my eyes, and his face was just a breath away from mine, "Haven't you heard about what's in there?"
"Yes, but..." I stopped.
"What?"
"But the trees--they want me," I said sheepishly, "I hear it, I feel it—the wanting."
"They want you," he stated. I shrugged.
He didn't say anything for a moment or two and the break in our conversation was filled with the sighs of middle-aged plants and the trickle of water I was distributing to some of the more isolated pots. A shadow flashed across my best friends' face as he processed something in his head. "There's a line forming behind Seamus," he said blankly.
I blinked, and before I could respond, he offered quickly, "I think we're almost done here."
"Right," I said quietly. We cleaned up our tools and hung our aprons up on a peg near the door. I tucked my gloves into my apron pocket and stepped outside. Neville followed.
"I'll see you for dinner, after Transfigurations?" he asked, smiling at the thought of my second-favorite class: I was good at Transfigurations.
"Save me a seat," I begged cheerfully. We parted. I shrugged on my book bag and headed off to class.
Dinner that night offered the most bizarre dining experience I'd ever had in my life. Before I left the common room I had changed out of my school robes and into a white cotton dress with black lace trim. After a long day of class and working in the warm greenhouses, I needed a pick-me-up—and sometimes a girl just feels like looking pretty.
I spotted Neville easily in the crowded hall, and as I wound my way through the tables to him, something odd was happening. Boys all around me were turning in their seats and pointing at me—whispering and grinning with silly, dreamy looks on their faces. Come on! I wined silently, This is ridiculous.
But when I got closer to the Gryffindor table, I noticed my male friends behaving the same way as the boys I didn't know. "What's wrong with all of you?" I asked them angrily.
"Sophie," Ron began, "You smell--"
"What?" I asked, blushing profusely, "I just took a shower--"
Seamus elbowed him roughly, "No, Sophie, you smell like...like flowers or something--" He beamed a bright smile all over his silly dreamy face. His head rested in his hands as he stared at me. They were all staring at me.
"Like flowers?" I asked curiously. "A lot of girls smell like flowers, and that's just shampoo--" Oh no, I thought as the realization hit me, I smell like blossoms...This is embarrassing, when girls are fertile, they put out pheromones...and when trees are the same way—they bloom, and they smell, intoxicating.
"Yeah, well, you smell the best," a fourth-year Gryffindor I didn't know called to me from a ways down the table.
"Maybe you should bottle it," someone else said.
Oh dear, I thought, This is getting a little out of hand.
I sat down between Harry and Neville, across from Seamus. I stared at my plate and focused on not smelling. A few minutes of mentally cooling my pheromone output, the process seemed to work and the boys returned to their normal conversations. I turned to Neville--who had managed to ignore my overwhelming flowery scent—to ask him about his day, but he was currently engaged.
Ginny leaned her head in close to him and whispered eagerly. Heat spiked in my chest when she put her hand on his arm as she spoke. I frowned without any specific reason, and listened in to what she was saying.
"Well, at least she's not going with him this weekend—maybe you should ask her--"
Neville cut in, "We're already going together—I mean, not together, but--"
Neville was going to ask a girl to Hogsmeade? But who--
Seamus interrupted my thoughts, "Maybe you should try to bottle it. You're so good with plants—I bet someone in the village would sell it in their shops."
"Yeah,
but what would I call it?" I said absentmindedly. I tried to tune
into Neville's conversation
with Ginny once again, but they had switched to something else.
"Luminescence," Seamus answered. He smiled at me and
I blushed—he had a great smile, "Because your eyes sparkle like
stars."
I giggled at his attempt to charm me—but when I looked at him and something fluttered in my stomach, I had to admit his attempts were working.
After dinner Seamus took off to the library, and I walked back to the common room with Ginny, Neville, Harry, and Dean. Ginny and Dean walked in front of the group, holding hands and chattering happily. Harry's face fell into shadow as he watched them.
I nudged Neville playfully. "So..." I began, "Who's this girl I hear you are thinking of asking to Hogsmeade?"
Neville faltered in his step, "N—no one. Uh, what makes you ask that?"
"No one?" I asked doubtfully, "But I heard Ginny at dinner saying...something about you and a girl--"
"There's no girl," he said sharply.
"Ok, ok. But we're still going, right? With Harry and them?"
"Yes," he answered. He paused and grinned brightly, "Too bad Seamus can't go."
The Fat Lady swung open and we followed Harry through the portrait hole.
"Seamus is a little—eager...but he seems like a nice guy." I grabbed Neville's arm, and stared into his eyes, searching his face for honesty. "He is a nice guy, right? You would tell me if he's just not a good idea--"
"Yes. I would tell you," he said, his voice soft. His eyes were a warm, honey-brown tonight. We sat on the couch near the fireplace and the flames flickered in his eyes as he watched the burning logs. "Seamus is pretty obvious about his feelings," Neville said, "He's pretty obvious about most things. I don't think you need me to tell you what to think about him."
"Are you angry with me? You sound angry."
"I'm not angry, Sophie," he said quietly. He said nothing after that. The fire was making me drowsy, so I leaned my head on his shoulder. By the time my heavy eyelids drooped and refused to open again, the common room was empty but for Neville and me.
"Time for bed," he stated.
I groaned. He stood up and I flopped down in protest on the couch in the newly vacated space. Neville rolled his eyes at me and smiled as he pulled me up to standing position. Then he nearly dragged me over to the girls' staircase.
"Good night," he said to me as I swayed on my feet.
"See you in a few minutes," I said to him as I started to climb the stairs.
"What?" he asked, confused.
I turned to him with reciprocating confusion on my face, "Last night...when I..." I lowered my voice to a whisper, "When I slept in your bed with you, I didn't dream." I stepped back down to the floor next to him. I looked up into his face, "I don't want to wake up tonight after having that nightmare and not have you there with me."
Something like surprise erupted all over Neville's face. "Is that alright?" I asked him, silently begging him to concede.
He sighed deeply and pulled me into a warm embrace. I inhaled the smell of him: soap and cinnamon. "Of course," he said, "What are best friends for?"
I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as I anticipated a full night of uninterrupted, dreamless sleep. As I hurried up the stairs to change into my pajamas, I heard him say, "See you in a few minutes."
