October 12, 1972
Severus was already there when she slipped in after dinner that evening. For that matter, she didn't know if he'd actually been to dinner. She wasn't yet used to his presence or the sight of him enough to be able to pick him out from down the table and across the hall. Likely he hadn't eaten yet, from the way he was staring at a paper and a plant on the table in front of him. The plant, whatever it had been, had wilted and died. Which mean that the paper was likely something to do with Herbology. Which also likely meant that he wouldn't welcome her help, and so she tiptoed over to her couch and flopped onto it.
She managed to get a whole three pages into her Transfiguration reading when the first spate of swearing drifted over from the table. A glance upward gave her a perfect view of dark, greasy hair and a hunched, black-clad back. Rowan turned back to her books, waiting for.
"Damn!"
She turned around, sighing, knowing that there wouldn't be any peace in the tiny room until whatever was vexing Severus was fixed. Or solved. Or whatever.
"What is it?" she asked in the same annoyed tone he always treated her to when she made noise in their study room.
"Nothing."
"Don't 'nothing' me, Severus, you've been swearing at your whatever that is for an hour now. And it's annoying. Do you want help?"
He turned around and gave her a glare that would have lit her robes on fire if it had been a wand blast. "I don't need your help."
"Well, you obviously need someone's help because that homework assignment…"
"… Herbology test."
"Whatever it is, it's not getting done and it's clearly not getting done correctly. And you've killed your plant." He scowled at her, not even bothering to look around and see the damning evidence for himself. "Now do you want me to take a look at that or would you rather sit there and sulk till you fail out of Hogwarts?"
"Just who was it again who helped you pass your last Potions exam?" he grumbled, but he did shove over a bit. "Oh, go on, then. You might as well see what you can do with this mess. Certainly you can't make it any worse."
She bit back a smile. History of Magic and Herbology were her two best subjects, the one because it actually didn't have anything to do with spells and the other because she'd inherited her mother's green thumb. Even though the plants weren't anything she'd seen before in her life she'd already demonstrated considerable talent with them. Enough to win her several points for Ravenclaw and an O grade on every test, quiz, and paper she'd ever handed in to Professor Elm. Which Severus couldn't have been aware of, since he'd never paid attention to her work in any other class but Potions. She fought the smugness off her face as she pulled up a chair and took a look at his test.
"Oh, Severus…" She sighed, but with her exasperation tempered by unanticipated fondness. "You've got… these… backwards…" she began to scratch furiously on his essay, switching two similar types of soil. "You can't put a jewelweed cutting in that, it'll …"
"I think I'm well aware of what it'll do, thank you." They both had glanced at the plant in the middle of her sentence. "And what's the difference, anyway? One kind of soil's much like another."
"There's a world of difference," she murmured, concentrating on his essay for the moment. "Each plant is different and you usually have to care for them in different ways, even if the differences are small ones… oh, see, there you go." She made a couple more corrections to his paper.
"I don't understand," he said, and she was pleasantly surprised to hear no hint of a whine in his voice.
"It's not that difficult…" she started, then cut off abruptly. "It's complicated, but if you take it slowly… and pay attention, not just in class but to the plant…"
He stared at her as though she was speaking a foreign language. "Pay attention? Miss Mayfair, what on earth are you talking about?"
"Here…" she grabbed his hand and practically shoved it in the flower pot. "Can't you feel how dry that is? How… well, dead?"
"Of course it's dead," he retorted, more than a little unnerved by her behavior, "I killed it."
"You're impossible," she said, but she smiled when she said it. "It's too dry. You've let it go too long without water, or food for that matter."
"Food?" He gaped. "You have to feed a plant?"
"It's a living thing, too," she informed him. She wanted to roll her eyes, but figured that if she displayed anything other than calm or patience he'd go storming off again. "It needs food, water, and a pleasant environment in which to grow like every other living thing. Sunlight is a plant's food, generally, but in this case it also could benefit from a different kind of soil. Something more like the kind found in the plant's native environment?" Now she did give him something of a scolding look, because he should have known that from either the lecture or the textbook.
"The mountains in North America…" he nodded, muttering to himself. "But why…"
"It didn't work because although the two types of soil are similar, they're not the same." She anticipated his question easily, figuring what he must have been asking. "Professor Elm should have given you enough…"
"There were… difficult circumstances."
Her eyes flickered to his face, but he didn't say anything. He didn't even look at her.
"These roots are squashed, too," she went on after a second, pulling the plant out as delicately as a mother might lift a newborn. Her own mother had always taught her to treat their plants with respect. "A plant needs to breathe both above and below if it's to grow at all properly."
"I know," he muttered again. "I didn't think it'd make a difference."
"Of course it makes a difference. You have to care for the plant, and not just stick it in a pot with some dirt and water it every day. They want attention just as much as any of us. Trust me." She stood up, plant in hand. "Here. Meet me at the greenhouse tonight at midnight. We'll set this up for you properly, and maybe Professor Elm will overlook your first attempt as a learning experience or… something." Her voice sank to a mutter that she hadn't expected him to overhear. "Maybe he won't notice that you've switched plants."
"Switched plants?" He gaped at her again. "You're going to…"
"Well, of course!" she snapped. "You want to pass Herbology, don't you?"
"Yes." Immediate, but also a little startled. Whatever he'd been expecting in the way of Herbology help, it hadn't been this. And then again, she hadn't been expecting to suggest such a thing either, not till the words were out of her mouth.
Too late to take it back now. "Well, then." She set the plant back down. "Meet me at the greenhouse where you were having lessons, at midnight, and we'll fix you up with a proper plant."
Severus was already there when she slipped in after dinner that evening. For that matter, she didn't know if he'd actually been to dinner. She wasn't yet used to his presence or the sight of him enough to be able to pick him out from down the table and across the hall. Likely he hadn't eaten yet, from the way he was staring at a paper and a plant on the table in front of him. The plant, whatever it had been, had wilted and died. Which mean that the paper was likely something to do with Herbology. Which also likely meant that he wouldn't welcome her help, and so she tiptoed over to her couch and flopped onto it.
She managed to get a whole three pages into her Transfiguration reading when the first spate of swearing drifted over from the table. A glance upward gave her a perfect view of dark, greasy hair and a hunched, black-clad back. Rowan turned back to her books, waiting for.
"Damn!"
She turned around, sighing, knowing that there wouldn't be any peace in the tiny room until whatever was vexing Severus was fixed. Or solved. Or whatever.
"What is it?" she asked in the same annoyed tone he always treated her to when she made noise in their study room.
"Nothing."
"Don't 'nothing' me, Severus, you've been swearing at your whatever that is for an hour now. And it's annoying. Do you want help?"
He turned around and gave her a glare that would have lit her robes on fire if it had been a wand blast. "I don't need your help."
"Well, you obviously need someone's help because that homework assignment…"
"… Herbology test."
"Whatever it is, it's not getting done and it's clearly not getting done correctly. And you've killed your plant." He scowled at her, not even bothering to look around and see the damning evidence for himself. "Now do you want me to take a look at that or would you rather sit there and sulk till you fail out of Hogwarts?"
"Just who was it again who helped you pass your last Potions exam?" he grumbled, but he did shove over a bit. "Oh, go on, then. You might as well see what you can do with this mess. Certainly you can't make it any worse."
She bit back a smile. History of Magic and Herbology were her two best subjects, the one because it actually didn't have anything to do with spells and the other because she'd inherited her mother's green thumb. Even though the plants weren't anything she'd seen before in her life she'd already demonstrated considerable talent with them. Enough to win her several points for Ravenclaw and an O grade on every test, quiz, and paper she'd ever handed in to Professor Elm. Which Severus couldn't have been aware of, since he'd never paid attention to her work in any other class but Potions. She fought the smugness off her face as she pulled up a chair and took a look at his test.
"Oh, Severus…" She sighed, but with her exasperation tempered by unanticipated fondness. "You've got… these… backwards…" she began to scratch furiously on his essay, switching two similar types of soil. "You can't put a jewelweed cutting in that, it'll …"
"I think I'm well aware of what it'll do, thank you." They both had glanced at the plant in the middle of her sentence. "And what's the difference, anyway? One kind of soil's much like another."
"There's a world of difference," she murmured, concentrating on his essay for the moment. "Each plant is different and you usually have to care for them in different ways, even if the differences are small ones… oh, see, there you go." She made a couple more corrections to his paper.
"I don't understand," he said, and she was pleasantly surprised to hear no hint of a whine in his voice.
"It's not that difficult…" she started, then cut off abruptly. "It's complicated, but if you take it slowly… and pay attention, not just in class but to the plant…"
He stared at her as though she was speaking a foreign language. "Pay attention? Miss Mayfair, what on earth are you talking about?"
"Here…" she grabbed his hand and practically shoved it in the flower pot. "Can't you feel how dry that is? How… well, dead?"
"Of course it's dead," he retorted, more than a little unnerved by her behavior, "I killed it."
"You're impossible," she said, but she smiled when she said it. "It's too dry. You've let it go too long without water, or food for that matter."
"Food?" He gaped. "You have to feed a plant?"
"It's a living thing, too," she informed him. She wanted to roll her eyes, but figured that if she displayed anything other than calm or patience he'd go storming off again. "It needs food, water, and a pleasant environment in which to grow like every other living thing. Sunlight is a plant's food, generally, but in this case it also could benefit from a different kind of soil. Something more like the kind found in the plant's native environment?" Now she did give him something of a scolding look, because he should have known that from either the lecture or the textbook.
"The mountains in North America…" he nodded, muttering to himself. "But why…"
"It didn't work because although the two types of soil are similar, they're not the same." She anticipated his question easily, figuring what he must have been asking. "Professor Elm should have given you enough…"
"There were… difficult circumstances."
Her eyes flickered to his face, but he didn't say anything. He didn't even look at her.
"These roots are squashed, too," she went on after a second, pulling the plant out as delicately as a mother might lift a newborn. Her own mother had always taught her to treat their plants with respect. "A plant needs to breathe both above and below if it's to grow at all properly."
"I know," he muttered again. "I didn't think it'd make a difference."
"Of course it makes a difference. You have to care for the plant, and not just stick it in a pot with some dirt and water it every day. They want attention just as much as any of us. Trust me." She stood up, plant in hand. "Here. Meet me at the greenhouse tonight at midnight. We'll set this up for you properly, and maybe Professor Elm will overlook your first attempt as a learning experience or… something." Her voice sank to a mutter that she hadn't expected him to overhear. "Maybe he won't notice that you've switched plants."
"Switched plants?" He gaped at her again. "You're going to…"
"Well, of course!" she snapped. "You want to pass Herbology, don't you?"
"Yes." Immediate, but also a little startled. Whatever he'd been expecting in the way of Herbology help, it hadn't been this. And then again, she hadn't been expecting to suggest such a thing either, not till the words were out of her mouth.
Too late to take it back now. "Well, then." She set the plant back down. "Meet me at the greenhouse where you were having lessons, at midnight, and we'll fix you up with a proper plant."