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sweetpinkpixie · 04-23-2025, 11:41 AM

Nyle would have been positively mortified to learn that he had mishoused her - something he would surely find out soon enough, particularly considering she would not be seated at the same table at the feast nor wearing robes with gold trim and accents. Maybe he’d just wanted her to be one. Someone rooted and golden, a quiet sunflower in the back row. He thought of the way she used to crouch beside plants like she was listening to them speak, her fingers gentle even with the most temperamental stems. That had always felt like Hufflepuff behavior. But maybe he was projecting. Maybe he just liked the idea of her being in his house—of the greenhouse crossing back into the common room.

Except it wasn’t just that.

He might recall the strange tug he used to feel on certain afternoons when he’d bring back pots or clippings from the greenhouse for weekend grafting experiments. The sense of something else lingering. The almost-familiar yet melancholy comfort that settled in the corner of the room when he set his gloves down. Like echoes. Feelings that weren’t his but curled up beside him anyway. Bits of her energy clinging to shared tools, to old clay pots she’d handled before he inherited them from the discard shelf. She’d left impressions like pressed flowers, and he’d mistaken them for kinship. He would never say any of this aloud, of course. That would be… well...weird. He barely understood how it worked most days and any time he attempted explaining it, even with Unspeakables and his own mum, usually made people look at him sideways.

And knowing that she had noticed him, back then—even just a little—sparked something fragile and bright inside him, like the first seed cracking open underground.

Spared for the time being, he smiled a little crookedly, softening when she offered to let him help. "Oh," he said, gently, "yeah, I can definitely help. I know where they keep the school kits. And dad and mum gave me some tips on picking out the bes phials and other things. They're healers, so they're both very particular on what does and doesn't end up in their supplies." He stepped aside to walk with her, holding his bottle of Murtlap essence in his hand delicately. His heart was still doing that odd stuttery thing, but it wasn’t the same as earlier—when he thought she might be the terrifyingly elegant shop girl with the pale skin and impossible eyes. "And, well, welcome back to Hogwarts, Phoebe," he added, more sincerely this time. "I mean. Almost. In a couple weeks and after a train ride and the carriages and everything. So, a premature welcome back. Er, it will be better with you in the greenhouses again."

He still didn’t ask where she’d gone. He just handed her a basket, adjusted the strap over his shoulder, and quietly matched his pace to hers.

04-23-2025, 11:41 AM	#38 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie SSRPG Admin Gladrags Mod Quibbler Mod Minister for Magic Alley Proprietor Sea Serpent Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths Posts: 41,539 Hogwarts RPG Name: Professor Cox Ravenclaw Graduated Hogwarts RPG Name: CJ Miller Gryffindor Fourth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Nyle Harden Hufflepuff Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Iris Harden Ravenclaw Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Jae-hyuk Anouilh Slytherin Seventh Year Ministry Department Head: Charles Hollingberry Minister's Office Ministry Department Head: Airey Flamsteed Mysteries Diagon Alley Proprietor: Victor García Massey Ollivanders x12 x12	astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf Nyle would have been positively mortified to learn that he had mishoused her - something he would surely find out soon enough, particularly considering she would not be seated at the same table at the feast nor wearing robes with gold trim and accents. Maybe he’d just wanted her to be one. Someone rooted and golden, a quiet sunflower in the back row. He thought of the way she used to crouch beside plants like she was listening to them speak, her fingers gentle even with the most temperamental stems. That had always felt like Hufflepuff behavior. But maybe he was projecting. Maybe he just liked the idea of her being in his house—of the greenhouse crossing back into the common room. Except it wasn’t just that. He might recall the strange tug he used to feel on certain afternoons when he’d bring back pots or clippings from the greenhouse for weekend grafting experiments. The sense of something else lingering. The almost-familiar yet melancholy comfort that settled in the corner of the room when he set his gloves down. Like echoes. Feelings that weren’t his but curled up beside him anyway. Bits of her energy clinging to shared tools, to old clay pots she’d handled before he inherited them from the discard shelf. She’d left impressions like pressed flowers, and he’d mistaken them for kinship. He would never say any of this aloud, of course. That would be… well...weird. He barely understood how it worked most days and any time he attempted explaining it, even with Unspeakables and his own mum, usually made people look at him sideways. And knowing that she had noticed him, back then—even just a little—sparked something fragile and bright inside him, like the first seed cracking open underground. Spared for the time being, he smiled a little crookedly, softening when she offered to let him help. "Oh," he said, gently, "yeah, I can definitely help. I know where they keep the school kits. And dad and mum gave me some tips on picking out the bes phials and other things. They're healers, so they're both very particular on what does and doesn't end up in their supplies." He stepped aside to walk with her, holding his bottle of Murtlap essence in his hand delicately. His heart was still doing that odd stuttery thing, but it wasn’t the same as earlier—when he thought she might be the terrifyingly elegant shop girl with the pale skin and impossible eyes. "And, well, welcome back to Hogwarts, Phoebe," he added, more sincerely this time. "I mean. Almost. In a couple weeks and after a train ride and the carriages and everything. So, a premature welcome back. Er, it will be better with you in the greenhouses again." He still didn’t ask where she’d gone. He just handed her a basket, adjusted the strap over his shoulder, and quietly matched his pace to hers. __________________ We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back......................................... But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass..................................... The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like