Most witches and wizards were rightfully wary of Venomous Tentaculas. Rosalind Yardley loved them.
They were probably her favorite magical plant. She found them endlessly fascinating—part plant, part animal. They certainly had minds of their own. They were dangerous, certainly, but they were beautiful. She had named each of the six in the greenhouse she worked in. Now that she had worked with them for around a year or so, they had come to trust her. She could lull them with her voice. They even allowed her to stroke them like she would a cat or a krup and she could've sworn that some of them liked it.
"Alright, Estelle, it's your turn, my dear."
Rosalind turned to Venomous Tentacula #4, or Estelle, as she had dubbed her. She was, also, perhaps Rosalind's favorite out of them all. Well, she wasn't technically a 'she,' but that was what Rosalind had decided to refer to her as. Estelle simply had a feminine air to her.
Rosalind gave Estelle a light pat to her leafy head, and Estelle's 'mouth' relaxed in response. Rosalind grinned. It was exactly the response she wanted. She had figured out that petting was the best way to extract the highly sought-after Venomous Tentacula juice. Usually, the juice was extracted via tapping into the plant, as one would a tree to extract maple syrup. But that could be highly dangerous for both the plant and the person extracting. By petting the plant and relaxing it enough to cause it to drool out a little juice, it was a much more pleasant experience for everyone involved.
"Good job," Rosalind praised, collecting the juice in a vial. It was more than she had expected.
As a reward, Rosalind fed Estelle a few chizpurfles and she shook her leaves with excitement over her snack. Chuckling, Rosalind sealed the vial with its cork and placed it with the other three that she had previously collected.
"Roz!"
The young woman jumped at the sound of her name. She had not been expecting it, but then again, she was never expecting Pinky to show up at the times that she did though she should have been used to the House Elf showing up unexpectedly after their years together.
"Pinky didn't mean to frighten you," the small creature apologized. "I is sorry."
"No need to apologize, I just get startled easily," Rosalind said. She pushed back the defiant curls that had fallen out of her loose bun and caught her breath, rearranging the vials of Tentacula juice that she had nearly knocked over. "What can I do for you, Pinky?"
The little elf apparated onto the table before her, straightening out her little dress that had once belonged to a human baby.
"Miss Merry would like you at the shop," said the elf. "She would like to eat her lunch and go on break."
"Isn't Fletcher working today?" the witch asked.
"Yes, Fletcher is, but Miss Merry is not trusting of him by himself yet," Pinky said. "So she would like you to go for a little while."
Rosalind sighed. She was beyond grateful that her old friend Merry Ackerson had given her a job at her family's apothecary. But she hated working in the shop. She was content to work in the greenhouses and gardens, tending to the plants that would be harvested to sell. Unfortunately, part of working at the apothecary was working in the shop itself. She wasn't fond of talking to people she didn't know. She didn't know what to do with herself most of the time when she was working the shop.
"Alright," she finally said. She dusted the dirt off of her hands and extended one towards Pinky. "Let's go."
The elf wasted no time in apparating the two of them to Ackerson's Apothecary on the north side of Diagon Alley. Per usual, Rosalind immediately felt awkward and under-dressed, wearing only her dirty jeans and baggy cable knit sweater that she pushed up over her elbows.
"Ah, good, you're here!" Merry said. She had a take out package from the Leaky Cauldron and had already removed her apron in preparation for her break. With a kind smile towards her friend, she said, "I won't be long, Al. I just need to you stand watch while I'm gone—Fletcher should be fine, but you know I still worry about him being on his own. He gets a little...overeager at times."
Rosalind smiled. She knew what Merry met. Fletcher, Merry's younger cousin, was brilliant when it came to potions supplies and potions. Sometimes, though, his brilliance overtook his social skills when interacting with customers. And, he was still young, only a year out of Hogwarts, so Merry still felt protective over him.
"Yes, yes, go enjoy your break," Rosalind said. "We'll be fine."
Merry mouthed a 'thank you' and disappeared into the back office to eat her lunch in peace. Rosalind watched her with a smile. She hated working in the shop but she loved Merry more. And she owed Merry a whole lot. Merry had taken her in after she'd disappeared for a few years. That, and Merry also took in the little free House Elf that Rosalind had brought along as well. So, the least she could do was work in the shop for a half an hour here and there.
"Hello, Rosalind!" greeted Fletcher.
The lanky young man climbed down the ladder from the loft space, a new pewter cauldron in tow, presumably to put in the empty space on the shelf near the front of the store. Physically, he had a bit of a resemblance to Merry. They were both tall and lithe with dirty blonde hair, but Fletcher wore thick glasses over his dark eyes and had a smattering of freckles over his nose, while Merry needed no spectacles and her eyes were a kind, bright hazel. Still, Rosalind felt dwarfed by them both, and she was often unable to stop comparing her own frame to their thin, lovely frames.
"Hi, Fletch," Rosalind said. "Can I help you with anything?"
"Oh, no, not now, anyways," said Fletcher. With a hint of a smile, he said, "I think we both know that Merry only called you in to babysit me."
"Not babysit, just be here if you need anything," Rosalind said.
"I know you'd be happier back at the greenhouses."
"Nothing against you," she assured him. "I just prefer plants to people, in general."
Fletcher gave her another small smile before returning to the sales counter. He understood what she meant, she thought, at least to an extent. He was younger than her. He had not experienced the war as she had. He could not possibly understand her resulting social anxiety. She had to remind herself of that when he seemed to become short with her.
Thankfully, before too much of an awkward silence lingered between the two, the bell over the door twinkled and a customer came in.
"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy, pleasure to see you today," Fletcher said, greeting the familiar brunette. "What can I help you with?"
"I'm looking for ingredients for a potion to help my little Scorpius," said the young Mrs. Astoria Malfoy. Rosalind noted the quiet pride that came as she mentioned her son. "He's beginning to teethe and it's very hard on him. It keeps him up at night and I hate to see him in pain...I'm not quiet as experienced in baby potions as I'd like to be, but surely you must have something?"
"Perhaps a Sleeping Draught would help your son rest?" Fletcher suggested.
Mrs. Malfoy followed Fletcher across the shop. Rosalind noticed the apprehension on the customer's face. Along with her own gut feeling and knowledge, she knew she had to step in, even if Fletcher would be annoyed with her for doing so.
"Sorry to intrude," she began, attempting to be as polite as possible. "But a Sleeping Draught likely isn't the best option for a little one...the dosage would be quite tricky to get right, and you might end up putting him to sleep for days...might I suggest something else, specifically for his pain?"
Fletcher did indeed look annoyed, though Mrs. Malfoy looked relieved. She likely was questioning the Sleeping Draught prescription as well, and nodded and smiled at Rosalind's intrusion. She followed Rosalind to another section of the shop, listening intently.
"I haven't made a specific potion or remedy for teething, but I think I can whip up something for you," Rosalind went on, collecting bits of ingredients from the shelves. "Lavender soothes, calms, and has antibacterial properties...chamomile reduces pain, heals wounds, and calms the senses, also not horrible for sleep, and a bit of the Standard Ingredient mix of herbs won't hurt to throw in. I would recommend mixing these together with some water into a salve to put onto your little one's gums and maybe sweeten it with some honey if he's not immediately fond of the taste."
Mrs. Malfoy grinned. She was much happier with the idea of giving her baby that rather than give him a Sleeping Draught. And though Rosalind had claimed to make it up off the top of her head, she knew it was a surefire way to help with teething. She had used the same salve many times on her younger cousins in what felt like another lifetime. But she couldn't say that to Mrs. Malfoy without breaking down in tears, so the idea of making it up on the cuff somehow came easier.
Fletcher swooped back in and helped Mrs. Malfoy cash out, unable to let Rosalind have the entire transaction to herself.
"Thank you again," Mrs. Malfoy said to Rosalind with a kind smile. "I'll be sure to let you know how it goes!"
Rosalind nodded and smiled and waved the young woman out. She had been in the same year as her elder sister, Daphne, at Hogwarts, though both Astoria Malfoy (formerly Greengrass) and Daphne had been in Slytherin while Rosalind had been in Hufflepuff. Neither of the girls had ever seemed as mean as some of their housemates, and now Rosalind could see that having a child had softened Astoria even more.
There was a time that Rosalind herself had dreamed of having a child or two of her own one day. Those days were long gone now.
Fletcher was still annoyed that Rosalind had intervened on another one of his sales. The rational part of him knew that she hadn't done so maliciously and that she was just trying to help, yet the emotional part of him was sure that she, like Merry, thought of him as nothing more than an incompetent child who needed to be looked after and couldn't be trusted on his own.
Rosalind, meanwhile, watched him as he dusted the cauldrons with a scowl on his face, and said nothing. She knew that there was no point. Trying to talk to him when he was in one of these moods would only lead to a pointless argument.
"Does Roz want Pinky to tell Fletcher to cheer up?" Pinky offered as she appeared by her favorite human's side.
"No thanks, Pinky," Rosalind said. She smiled down at the elf. She, per usual, felt incredibly lucky to have wound up with such an incredible little friend. "It won't do any good anyways."
The elf gave a slight shrug before disappearing into the backroom. She was also employed by Merry, doing most of the cleaning and organization in the storeroom for two galleons a week. Pinky was happy to do the work too—she seriously loved cleaning and organizing, and was beyond proud to be one of the new 'modern' House Elves who were free from any master and worked for their own wages. There were a few others around Diagon Alley that Pinky had befriended, and they met for tea on the third Sunday of each month. The little events were hosted by Pinky and took place at the small cottage she and Rosalind lived in, which was right by the gardens and greenhouses that Rosalind cultivated for the apothecary.
Rosalind watched Pinky with some envy. She was jealous of the little creature in some way. Pink just seemed so...happy. Despite everything the elf had been through, she had found her happy place in the world. She was free, she had her own account at Gringotts, she had human and elf friends, she did what she loved everyday. She still told Rosalind about the flashbacks she had of the war, but ultimately, she seemed to have overcome all of that, while Rosalind couldn't escape it.
The memories of it all haunted her continuously. The only repose she had was when she was with her beloved plants in the greenhouses and gardens. Other than that, the nightmarish memories lingered either at the back or front of her mind. The months in the dungeon. The indescribable pain of the Cruciatus Curse. Nursing her wounds at Shell Cottage only to go into the battle shortly after. And, at the end, finding out that none of her family survived except for her. Her mother, her father, her little cousins, all dead at the hands of the Death Eaters.
She often wondered what the point of it all was. Sure, in the grand scheme of things, the war was necessary for the wizarding world to move in a positive direction. Things in general had changed for the better since the war and were continuing to change positively, and Rosalind couldn't deny that. But for her own self, she often struggled to find a point.
Healer Lovejoy at St. Mungo's assured her that these feelings were normal. Survivor's guilt, depression, and some subsequent apathy and despair were all things that most witches and wizards struggled with to some degree after the war. She did the talk therapy with Healer Lovejoy and tried the potions she was prescribed, but nothing worked as well as working with her precious plants. She had tried traveling to, and had been all over Europe and the Americas in the years since the war only to find out that she couldn't run away from her problems, and ended up back in England, lucky to have a friend as wonderful as Merry Ackerman to take her in after her years of running.
She didn't know what she wanted to do with her life. But she was certain that she didn't want to spend the rest of her life working in the apothecary, as grateful as she was for the opportunity. She also knew that hiding in a greenhouse for the rest of her life wasn't an option, no matter how badly she wanted it to be.