Hogwarts

Greenhouse #3

Fifth-years' first Herbology class

Neville walked up and down the greenhouse, finishing organising several medium-sized pots on the long table, telling himself he had no reason for nervousness; his next students were just like any other students he had taught in the first two days of classes he had already given.

There was nothing special about the fifth years Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, just another class.

He looked at the table, there were enough pots, gloves and tools for all students, everything was as ready as they could be – but Neville knew he couldn't stop moving, he needed to keep his mind busy, otherwise he'd start thinking about the one particular student that was about to enter his Greenhouse.

Sophie Snape.

No! Don't think of her! He admonished himself. She's just another student. Don't even look her way!

He could hear the students approaching and moved the pots around the table once more, noticing that some had already begun sprouting dark pink flowers – a good sign of their healthiness.

As expected, in minutes, the fifth years Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had all arrived, and Neville put on his most professional smile to address the class: "Good morning, students, gather around here, please," he pointed to the pots and tools on the table in front of him, "Welcome to Greenhouse Number Three, fifth years. As you probably already know, I'm Professor Neville Longbottom."

He looked at the nodding students, his eyes stopping for a moment on the brown-haired, green-eyed Ravenclaw he had dreaded seeing – with reason, for once again he felt the need to stare at her, to get close to her.

"I- I'm a Herbologist," Neville continued, clearing his throat, "And I have spent the last six years travelling the world studying plants with the best teachers I could find; from renowned healers to doctors and shamans."

"Even muggles?" asked a Hufflepuff girl, recognising the muggle word used to refer to healers.

Neville nodded, "Yes, of course. Muggles know a lot about the healing properties of plants, they have been using it as medication for over three millennia. The bark of the White Willow tree, for example, has been used as a traditional pain-reliever for more than 3500 years. Unknown to the ancient Sumerians and Egyptians who made use of it, the active agent within willow bark is salicin, which is a chemical similar to aspirin – a very common medicine in muggle households."

More than half of the students seemed impressed, all the muggleborns and half-bloods recognising the name of the medication.

"Also," continued Neville, "Many muggle cultures have discovered that herbs can have recreational uses."

As predicted, the teenagers were suddenly very interested in the recreative properties of plants.

"What kind of recreation are we talking about, professor?" asked a Ravenclaw boy.

"Well, Mr Briggs, I'll leave that for a future class; since recreational plants won't be required knowledge for your O.W.L.s, you'll only have more details if you pay attention during non-recreational classes," Neville said, hearing the expected disappointed 'aws'.

"Today," he went on, "the little plant I present you will for sure be asked during your O.W.L.s," he pointed to the pots on the worktable, "This is the Burning Bush, also known as-"

"Dittany!" said Sophie.

Neville raised his head to acknowledge her – for ignoring her could raise suspicion.

"Yes, Miss Snape, this is the famous Dittany," he gave her a nod and forced himself to not to look her way too long.

"Why is it called the Burning Bush?" asked a Ravenclaw girl, "I can see it's a bush, but I'm not seeing it burn."

"Dittany," explained Neville, "is called the Burning Bush due to the flammable vapours it lets out when harvested," he began distributing the pots, "Now, each one of you will grab a pot and I'll demonstrate how to properly harvest its leaves."

Sophie Snape watched Prof. Longbottom handing over the Dittany pots; the way his large hands held the small pots with care made her feel something.

It was hard to name it.

It was like an odd warmth that spread out from her chest and made her feel relaxed but tense at the same time.

She bit her bottom lip – a bad habit she couldn't stop – and continued to observe him; she had been surprised to see that his tall, broad frame was not imposing in the cramped greenhouse. And the way he spoke about plants? Wow. She could listen to him all day; he was clearly passionate about the subject, and his voice was nearly hypnotising.

Herbology has become even more interesting. She thought.

His eyes met hers again, and Neville was taken by surprise by the interest and curiosity he could identify in Sophie Snape's gaze.

Was she curious about the class or about him?

He couldn't tell.

Bloody hell! He admonished himself. Stop thinking about the fifteen-year-old – you sodding perv!

"Professor?" she was in front of him, "Prof. Longbottom?"

"Yes, Miss Snape?" he said when he found his voice.

"Can I have a pot, sir?" she asked, looking down at his hands where they were holding tightly onto the pot intended for her.

"Y-yes, of course," he quickly replied, "I just- I was just-"

"Yes?" Sophie looked at him with anticipation.

What was I going to say? He asked himself.

Fucking hell. Neville cursed internally, hoping his flushed cheeks weren't as visibly hot as he felt them.

"Miss Snape," he finally recovered, "Could you tell us the main property of Dittany?"

"Of course, sir," Sophie looked at him with a small frown, wondering why he had asked her such a stupid question, "It's a healing herb. Dittany leaves can be ingested in their natural form, or they can be turned into an essence and applied directly to wounds. There's also the possibility of turning the essence into an aerosol that can be inhaled when one's suffering from pneumonia or a heart condition."

"Yes," nodded Neville, "Very good. Ten points for Ravenclaw. Dittany is a very powerful healing herb," he addressed the whole class, "To give you all an idea of its powers, when mixed with silver, it can cure werewolf bites."

"It cures lycanthropy?" gasped a Hufflepuff boy.

"No, Mr Padget," the professor shook his head, "A silver and dittany mix would only prevent the victim from bleeding to death from the bite, but it wouldn't stop them from turning into a werewolf had they been bitten during a full moon night. Luckily, we do have a treatment for that condition and all of those who suffer from lycanthropy can now be cured."

Neville glanced at Sophie again, and she hoped the professor wouldn't tell the class that her parents had been the ones responsible for that discovery. She didn't need him reminding them all of who she was the daughter of.

Not that she was ashamed – no! Quite the opposite really: she was extremely proud of her family and all of their accomplishments. But whenever someone recalled who she was related to, trouble ensued – she either got praised for something she didn't do or insulted for being Voldemort's granddaughter.

"Shredded Dittany," she decided to say, in an effort to keep the conversation moving forward, "is the main ingredient in the Wiggenweld Potion."

"Yes, Miss Snape," Neville nodded, accepting her commenting, despite unsolicited, "Dittany is so safe to use that even sick babies can ingest it or have it applied topically."

"It's also a woodcore," added Sophie, feeling a wave of excitement within her as she continued talking with her handsome teacher.

"Woodcore?" it was Neville's turn to frown.

"Yes, sir, my wand has a Dittany stalk in its core," Sophie explained.

"Really?" Neville was honestly surprised, "That's very unique."

Sophie blushed under his gaze, but her moment of self-consciousness was short-lived, for a scoff cut through the silent greenhouse:

"Yeah, we've all heard of how unique the headmaster's daughter is," and everyone turned to look at a Ravenclaw boy standing across the table from her, his tone clearly spiteful, "It must be tiring to be so special."

"It truly is impressive," said Neville, choosing to ignore the boy's attempt to antagonise the girl, "With such a wand, you should think of becoming a healer, Miss Snape."

"That's the plan, professor," Sophie said, after glaring briefly at her housemate.

The professor smiled at her and turned to the class again, walking up and down the long greenhouse as he demonstrated how to correctly harvest the Dittany leaves, causing them to emit the least amount of vapours.

Once the Herbology class was over, Sophie walked out of the greenhouse by herself, as usual. She didn't have many friends within her own House – Ravenclaws weren't the most loyal and friendly bunch; did they have House unity? Yes. But Long-term friendship? No. The constant need to be the best in all classes made it difficult for one to cultivate deep, meaningful relationships within their House.

Ravenclaws were usually seen befriending Gryffindors, for Lion House students were hardly ever as academically driven as the Crows.

Prof. Longbottom was a Gryffindor. Her brain reminded her.

Yes, he was. And one of the best, most courageous Gryffindors ever, if the stories were all true.

She found herself pulling her bottom lip between her teeth again, as she thought about her new professor on her way back to the castle.

He is so knowledgeable; listening to him talking is so interesting! He's travelled the world, studying with the best in his field.

She smiled, recalling their brief conversation during his class, It has been so long since I last had an engaging conversation with someone who's not from my family!

Her parents, her older siblings, even the younger ones Lynne and Lily, were all brilliant conversationalists. But oftentimes it was good to talk to someone new.

Plus, it doesn't hurt that Prof. Longbottom is bloody fit!

She blushed at the thought, chuckling lightly for a few seconds, before inhaling sharply as she realised: I have a crush on a teacher.

Shit.

Considering her family ran the school, harbouring a crush on her Herbology professor was completely ill-advisable. It could easily get the poor man sacked – or worse: her father could kill Longbottom or even have him arrested!

And a crush on a teacher? That was completely ridiculous!

Sophie herself had laughed uncountable times at her housemates whenever they commented on James' and Nicholas' good looks; and yet there she was: having a crush on a teacher.

Well, at least he's not married.

She paused, feeling her stomach cramping with anxiety.

At least I hope he's not married.

Sophie shook her head, walking blindly towards the castle; one bloody class and she was already making herself sick with thoughts of him.

"Hey, special girl!" she suddenly heard that same housemate that had mocked her during class.

"Sod off, Bulstrode," she spat without stopping or looking at him.

"C'mon, princess," sneered the boy, "We all know how special you are," his three friends all laughed, "The special daughter of the headmaster, with the special wand," his eyes glinted as he added: "The special granddaughter."

"That one's getting old, Bulstrode," she replied in a bored tone.

Bulstrode chuckled darkly, "Not when I have new intel about how much grandpa liked you, princess."

Sophie turned and walked towards him, her wand in her hand.

"What did you just say?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes.

He smirked maliciously, "I've heard all about your stay with grandpa Voldie at the Malfoy Manor."

"Shut up," she growled, "you don't know what you're talking about."

"My father told me, special girl."

"Right," she replied with mockery, "Because he was there, wasn't he? One of the snatchers-"

"Do you want to talk about whose father was or wasn't with Voldemort, Snape?" Bulstrode snarled.

But Sophie didn't feel intimidated in the least, she stuck her wand on the side of his neck and got into his personal space, "My grandfather wanted me for a reason, you brainless flobberworm!" she hissed, "Maybe you should learn to keep your stupid mouth shut before I show you why grandpa was so interested in raising me."

Bulstrode's brave façade cracked a little, "You can't do anything, you'll be-"

"I'll be what? Expelled?" she laughed on his face, "Tell me, who do you think my father would expel if I were to hex you right now for harassing me from having been kidnapped at the age of three?"

Bulstrode's eyes widened.

"You'd be lucky if all my dad did was expel you," she added venomously.

"I was just joking, Snape," Bulstrode tried to laugh it off, "You understand, I-"

"No," she said with a smile, "As a matter of fact I don't understand, I think I'll go right now to the Headmaster's office to tell him everything you said about his loyalties and what happened to me."

Bulstrode raised his hands in a sign of surrender and let out a small whimper: "Please, Snape, don't do that."

"Will you bother me again?"

"No! No, please, I can't be expelled!" he begged: "I'm sorry, I- I won't bother you again!"

She looked at his two friends, Graham and Lane, and both of them were nodding, looking as terrified as their leader at the end of her wand.

"Get the fuck out of my sight," Sophie ordered, lowering her wand.

Bulstrode and his lackeys ran towards the castle without looking back.

Sophie pocketed her wand and sighed heavily; she hated having to resort to violence to solve her problems, but from time to time she had to remind her fellow students why no one dared to mess with her family.

"Terrorising your housemates now, Sophie?" she heard her mother's voice before seeing her.

"He started it," the teenager shrugged.

Florence seemed a little concerned as she stopped in front of her daughter, "Are you alright, dear?"

"Yes, mum."

"Anything I should tell your father? That was Robert Bulstrode's son..." Florence looked up briefly, "I still don't understand how he ended up in Ravenclaw."

Sophie shook her head, "It's fine, mum, I handled it. Besides, he hasn't done anything I'm not used to at this point."

Florence frowned, hating to see her daughter being stigmatised and bullied because of her heritage and the kidnapping she had been a victim of during the war.

"What class do you have next?" Florence asked.

"Potions."

"Good."

And Sophie watched her mother nod and disapparate without another word.

Potions Classroom

As Sophie worked on her Wit-Sharpening Potion, she noticed her brother, and Potions Professor, James, was stopping by Bulstrode's desk more than any other student's.

"It's indeed a blessing that we're brewing this potion today," James drawled, his tone dripping contempt, "for you are in dire need of some of it, Bulstrode."

The boy glanced at Sophie, and she smiled, realising that her mother had told James what had happened.

Bulstrode glared at Sophie and suddenly his vial of armadillo bile was knocked over, even though his hand was nowhere near it. The putrid smell of the spilt bile filled up the dungeons and the teacher intervened:

"Abluo ventas," James cast, replacing the foul smell with the scent of fresh air, "Such careless behaviour is unacceptable, Bulstrode," he drawled, "I'll see you later tonight, for your detention."

Sophie had to hide her satisfied smirk when James discreetly winked at her; if there was still any remaining doubt, her brother had just made it clear to all her housemates they'd better not mess with her.