August days were always bittersweet.  The weather was hot and perfect for gardening, but it was also almost time for school again.  Indica had spent a majority of her summer in denial about the impending doom that would be seventh year.  Well, that wasn’t quite true, she didn’t think of it as doom.  It was just another year in a succession of them and she was going to go and do what she was going to go and do.  She would be happy to see her classmates, not that she hadn’t had a number of them over during the summer months anyway, but it was different when you lived with them. 

Not that her parents would have objected if anyone decided to hell with their family and wanted to live in the converted warehouse.  They were very open people, so open that her mother was downstairs in their den leading a birthing class for her close to due mothers. 

Indica knew she did not want to be in the den when that was happening – all of the rhythmic breathing and talk of expanding and contracting pelvises was not her favorite thing to hear about on a sunny, hazy afternoon.  Her dad was at the restaurant prepping (he had the night off though, and Indi anticipated sitting on the couch with him later).  In an effort to avoid the hormonal and natal yoga positioned mothers, Indi had grabbed her sun hat and snuck through the kitchen to the stairwell that led up to the roof.  Taking two steps at a time, it was a short distance before Indi was on the roof.  The sun was shining down and Indica could see rooftops of other buildings nearby.  None had a garden like theres, of course, she imagined that none of them knew about their garden either. 

It had glamour charms over it – appearing much like any other rooftop to anyone else.  The magical plants might not be so… harmless looking to neighbors.  Indi didn’t think anything they had or did was weird though.  Well, maybe except for the mimbulus mimbletonia, which Indica routinely harvested for stinksap (for mom, of course).  She always liked the way it seemed to hum when she was harvesting it – made up for the smell.  And then there were the shrivelfigs – resilient things they were…

So maybe she saw the reason for the glamour charms… but, whatever the case, she went to the little shed they kept up there and opened the door, removing her gardening tools from the shelves and a watering can to get to work.  She started, always, with the non-magical plants, their vegetables and things.  To the corner of the roof she went, humming a tune as she swung the gardening box by her side, it breezed past her thigh with each swing of her arms before she put it down on the edge of the raised planting box, pulling out the pad for her knees.  She dropped down, her toes curling under her and she pulled her gloves on and arranged the tools. 

Looking up, she frowned.  She’d forgotten her wireless downstairs.  Ugh.  In the choice between going down there and risking the sound or sight of birthing practice... Indica wiped her forearm over her forehead and turned her eyes back to the dirt and her plants.  There was a squash that had dinner practically written all over it that needed tending to!

Four days. Lissy and Maisie had been fighting for four days. The never screeching had become intolerable, even work wasn't a refuge for Macaulay, their angry voices seeming to follow him down the lane to the pub where he was washing dishes for the summer. There was only one place to escape, one person who would pat his head and reassure him he had not misplaced his marbles. Indica's place had been a long standing safe haven in the hot summer months when the walls of the Nettlebottom family home threatened to close in on him.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy his family, he truly did (most of the time). The problem was that nine people living under one roof for three solid months with no real way of escape, coupled with his father and elder brother's desire to constantly stir the cauldron and run color commentary was just a little much by the end of the August. He'd be happy to get back to school, not that Hogwarts had ever really been an escape from family for her. First he'd had to share the halls with Hamish and Caleigh now he shared them with Maisie, Lisbeth, and soon little Edie. There was only one place in the world he could legitimately hide from them all, which is exactly what he needed to do for a few hours.

When Mrs. Kemp flung open the front door her eyes were bright and he immediately found himself enveloped in a welcoming hug. He was also wrangled into coaching an extremely pregnant Witch (who's partner was running very late) in a set of breathing exercises. Only Indi's mother could or would ask him to cradle a total stranger and not think it was completely insane. It was fifteen minutes before he could escape (thankfully the woman's life partner finally showed up, a rush of apologies and then demanding to know who the lanky kid holding her wife was). It would have only been a mild exaggeration to say Mac bolted for the staircase as soon as he could.

By the time he made his way to the roof, Indica was completely consumed in the harvesting of fresh vegetables. For a moment Mac leaned against one of the high planting boxes watching her work. She was such a deeply contented person, it caught him off guard for a moment to realize this was the last year they'd be mucking about in the Greenhouses together. The passage of time was a strange thing when he let the idea of it roll around in his brain, "So, your Mom, uh" he paused with a laugh, "is being her usual persuasive self. I had to swear to stay for dinner before she'd let me escape".

She knew dinner would be phenomenal, just based on what she pulled out of the greenery.  Sometimes people didn't want to do what they did for work at home, but her dad was not one of those people. He would come home, roll up his sleeves over his considerable tattoos (some more family friendly than others) and go straight to the kitchen.  Indi hoped she'd have that kind of job one day. By her own logic, she imagined if she waited long enough she'd figure it out.

These thoughts tapered off as she plucked some ripe tomatoes off the vine, squeezing just barely for firmness: perfect. She was about to actually talk to it, explaining that it would be a welcome addition to her dinner plate this evening when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.  Lifting her head, the slightly glistening Indica let a wide smile overtake her face. "Mac!" She shouted and pushed herself up, dirt up to her elbows, sweat on her forehead, and red marks in the pattern of the weave from her gardening most on her knees and upper shins.  This was when Indica was most happy. 

Stripping off the gloves and tossing them in the tool box, she ran up and hugged him. She was a very tactile person, there was nothing to do but run across and throw her arms around his neck and squeeze. If he didn't expect it then they hadn't spent nearly enough time together. "You wouldn't leave at dinner time anyway," she informed him as she stopped using her vice grip and sunk down to human levels again.  "Dad has the night off and you practically die every time you watch him cook - don't act like you don't," she finally released him fully, sliding her hands off his shoulders and then back by her side. 

"Sorry for whatever you saw downstairs, by the way," she smirked, "if you'd sent an owl I could have warned you about all of the 'natural bathing energy' and 'the aura of joy of impending motherhood.' ...but..." She leather voice trail and started to laugh. She loved her mother and her work, but sometimes it was too much even for her - and she was around it all the time.

Indi took off her sun hat for a moment and wiped her free hand on her eyes and temples. "What brings you fleeing here?" She asked with amusement, "another hair cutting debacle or the commentary becoming too much?"

Mac's smile was wide as he watched Indica lean over a particularly delcious looking tomato, waiting for her to coo happily at it. He'd never found it particularly strange she spoke to produce, it was all just part of what made Indi Indi - and he adored Indi. She was the sort of person who wore the goodness of her person on her sleeve, her happy smile and sense of humor made her easy to connect to. They'd been best friends almost since the moment they met on the train first year. It was possible he was even more comfortable with her family than he was with his own, at least when it came to talking to them. Mac's father, Kelly, was as traditional as you could get, he wanted his boys to be strapping examples of his virility (not that Mac ever liked to contemplate this notion, it was something he just knew and found irritating). The Kemps were the sort of folks who thought children should be allowed to find their own way, Mac envied Indi that, though he also figured she'd needed that kind of environment to foster the sense of self she seemed to have.

He gave a soft but audible "Ouf,"  as she flung herself at him, arms instinctively wrapping around her and lifting the short girl off the ground to swing in a half circle, "Good to know I've been missed," there was a good nature'd laugh to his voice as Mac gave a good natured squeeze then set her down. If he hadn't been a huggy sort of person before meeting Indica, she would have made him one. Of course Mrs. Nettlebottom was also a tactile person, prone to show affection through whisper soft touches and forehead kisses - something she had passed along to her younger daughters (especially Edie who seemed to just crawl on people without the slightest invitation or provocation).

"It's true, but you can't really blame me can you? Your dad is sort of a rock star, plus I've been working on this new spell to instafreeze fresh berries so they fizzle pop in your mouth. They're either going to be the hottest new cold prep or," he squinted a little, looking just a little bashful, "I'll sell um to Weasely as gags because Hamish ate a batch before I had tested them and it almost blew out his front teeth, turned them purple too," he looked a little smug. The whole thing had been kind of a nightmare, but watching his brother furiously try to scrub his teeth clean for three days had been payment enough for the set back.

Of course he groaned a little when she asked after what had brought him over. Covering his face he heaved a sigh and slung an arm around her shoulders as they made their way back to the garden box, "Maise and Liss are on a tear. Gordic's garters, it's going to be a nightmare. Last week it was who was hotter, Accio Ladies or the Firebolt Five; before that it was over about 8 inches of wall space in their room," he sounded exaggeratedly forlorn as he dropped to the ground and turned his face up toward Indi, "then today Lissy committed the ultimate sin," his face shifted darkly, tone dropping, "she tried on a pair of Maisie's jeans and," he paused for effect, green eyes troubled, "they fit her better in the," his voice dropped, "buttom". Despite the two year age difference between them the sisters were nearly the same size, whether because Maisie hadn't grown much or Lissy had blossomed early didn't much matter to Mac, he was only half kidding about how deeply this disturbed him. He liked to forget his sisters had bottoms that could look good in jeans (or anything else for that matter).

Indica was pleased to hear that he was making headway on something.  “Brill!” she grinned widely, clapping him on the shoulder with pride and respect.  Being as fantastic as he was, Mac deserved to feel successful and he was going to do some awesome things.  “You know, Dad can probably check out what you have so far,” she offered with a kind of ‘you know you want to ask,’ kind of way.  And it wasn’t exactly that she was pleased to hear that Hamish almost blew his teeth out (Indica was not a violent person and in no way suggested she was too happy about it… except maybe the widening of her smile). 

“Sometimes the unintentional consequences are the sweestest, no?” she asked serenely.  It was something her mother would have said if sweet revenge was inflicted on someone who might have earned it in the grand scheme of karmic relationships.  It wasn’t like Indica held any hostility toward his brothers, quite the contrary; they had their own charms at times – but she had loyalty to her friend first and foremost, so listening to him, Indi allowed him to wrap his arm around her shoulder.  She wrapped her arm around his back and they were on their way back to the planting box. 

The short, leisurely walk afforded him the time to elaborate on what was going on at home.  Indica was glad she was an only child and didn’t have to share her space with anyone  - apparently it could create a host of problems she didn’t even know could exist.  Even in the dorm, everyone seemed to have their own space and sure – sometimes people argued, but Indica had never seen the point in trying to assume something was better than what someone else thought was amazing.  Couldn’t people just like what they liked and share space?  “I don’t envy you,” she looked up at him with a mischievious look on her face.

“That doesn’t surprise me though,” she commented on the end result, “I always knew Lissy would have a good bum.”  She tried to hold back the giggles at the horrified expression on his face.  “She takes after me, after all,” she winked and put her hands up above her head to do a little spin (maybe shaking her hips just a little bit) before collapsing to sit on the edge of the garden box.  She had become a sort of fixture in the Nettlebottom home in the same way that Mac had weasled his way into hers.  It was not uncommon for her to joke about that sort of thing – though it was the first time butts had been dragged into it.  It was going to be an entirely new experience to delve into that realm of speak… especially because Indi had zero shame. 

Shifting so that Mac would have some space, Indi patted the space next to her and let out a deep sigh, looking at the basket of vegetables.  “Should I pick anything else, future restaurateur?” the overblown French pronunciation courtesy of her dad’s teaching, “or have I picked the perfect assortment of summer vegetables?  Feel free to compliment, if that is the case.”

Mac gave Indi a rueful sort of grin, not bothering to look the least bit sheepish, "I may have stowed a batch in the icebox when I got here. I noticed the absolutely no placenta ever sign has been updated. Did the only one finally lose the last bit of it's sticking charm"? The first time Macaulay had ever visited and seen the sign it had given him pause about what might be lurking in the family fridge, of course Indica had pointed out it said no placenta ever, so reasonably it was safe to assume you would not run into any. Sometimes the whole hippy thing was a little much, but it was a refreshing change most of the time, so completely different from the place he grew up in with all the people who took up his space and kid sisters who got in his things.

Groaning he hid his face, "You are the worst. You're the one encouraging her aren't you, you've told her about kissing boys," he pretended to glower at her from between his fingers. Indi had been easily folded into the Nettlebottom family, there were so many of them he doubted his mother even noticed the extra face around the dinner table unless it was to ask Indica about her planet projects or for help in the family garden. Even sleepovers weren't completely unheard of, of course she slept in Calleigh's room, it might not have been a big deal to have another girl in the house but the Nettlebottoms were not quite as freewheeling as the Kemps, there was a line after all.

Playfully Mac reached up and swatted Indi's backside, before leaning over the basket of veggies and rubbing his hands together, "You have excellent taste Mademoiselle , though I would expect nothing less given your fine parentage," he tried to sound oh-so snooty and French, pretending to twirl the edges of an invisible mustache. It was actually a gorgeous haul, and looked good enough to eat out of hand without any further prep than a good washing, "the snap peas look particularly delectable. Mum would kill to know how you do it, she's still fighting a never ending battle with her baking pumpkins. Whats on the menu for tonight anyway? Playing birthing partner has left me absolutely famished"!

“Knocked down in a freak kitchen accident,” Indica explained without any sense of irony in her voice.  Her parents had the strangest habits, well, her mom more than her dad, but he went along with her and as long as Indi had known him (as though there was a time where she didn’t), he was his own form of zany, and if kitchen accident said anything about what happened in their house, well the placenta sign didn’t seem odd.   “Dad decided it was worth it to replace it though,” she smirked with a shrug. 

If he didn’t, Indica couldn’t really imagine what would happen if he didn’t.  Well… no, she could.  But it was supremely unpleasant as an idea.  Much less pleasant than a small smack on the bum, which made Indica squeak playfully, winking at him as she turned back to sit down.  She had no cares in the world about it and smirked. “Kissing anyone,” she corrected, “I’d never discriminate.”  One never knew another person’s proclivities and Indi didn’t live in anyone’s head.  She tried to keep all of her advice fairly gender neutral, just in case.  She saw enough diversity of relationships in her home and parents’ professional life that she would honor that sort of life decision no matter what.  “Besides, you know they don’t hear anything from me that they don’t hear at school,” she added. 

When one lived with a bunch of other teenagers, you were bound to hear things.  If she didn’t have her parents, she’d have probably learned where babies came from in a dorm at the end of first year.  Heck, even with her parents she’d learned quite a bit from her dorm mates – and the magazines they brought in.  There was no way the Nettlebottom girls were not just as informed – sleepovers sort of told her the same thing.  Not that she’d ever tell Mac that.  It’d probably kill him – and she liked him too much to have him dead. 

She was pleased as punch when he commented on the vegetables she picked and Indica sat up straighter with the happiest look on her face.  “Merci, monsieur!” she replied in her equally as haughty (and slightly better pronounced) French.  As for the menu (she ignored his question for the moment), Indica shrugged.  “Whatever dad feels like when he sees what we’ve got.  I’m hoping for something grilled – kebabs perhaps,” she thought out loud.  That sounded really good.  Licking her lips, she leaned her head back, letting some sun hit her face and sighed.  “Now I’m hungry…” she whined, “and we haven’t even gone to my room yet!”

It was truly a tragedy of epic proportions.  “D’you think my mom’s clients are gone yet?” she asked idly, wondering what was going on downstairs.  She lolled her head over her shoulder and glanced up at him under her eyelashes, floppy hat covering half of her face at the same time.  It was very hard to see another person in that particular position.  “Maybe we could sneak in anyway,” she wondered out loud, “drop these off in the kitchen and then hide.  I’ve been working on my trigger point massages,” she added with an eyebrow wiggle. 

Mac didn't inquire further as to what sort of freak kitchen accident, in the Kemp household it could have been almost anything. He was glad, however, that they had decided to replace the sign. He adored Carol, he really did, but she was the sort who would forget about the placenta rule if it were not strictly stated. She was a hoot and a half but he would rest easier knowing that one could open the icebox door without, you know, finding that. For all his supposed maturity and culinary prowess, there were just some things he could not get his head around, that was one of them. He was still a 17 year old boy deep deep down, after all.

He held his hands up in apology as Indi corrected him, "True, true, I would hate to limit my sisters to just one gender, though I can't really bust a girl's nose if she breaks their heart now can I"? Not that Mac thought violence really solved anything, or that he would ever knock around someone so much smaller than himself, but it was a nice option to have for the Smarmadon his sisters were sure to get involved with. Maisie already acted like she knew far too much for his comfort level, and the problem was not that she might actually know what she was talking about, his worry was that all her big talk would get her into a situation she wasn't really prepared for. Playing at being grown and actually being grown were two very different things, and at the heart of it he just wanted to keep them safe. The world he lived in and the world they lived in weren't the same, maybe it wasn't fair but it was a fact.

That, however, was far too heavy a thought to be having on a sunny afternoon with a positively lush companion who had just mentioned kebabs. On cue his stomach gave a little rumble (it was good to go to Indi's house hungry, there were always goodies to be had), and his green eyes looked up at her a little pitifully, "If we go fast maybe I won't have to breathe in good energy and exhale the pain". He was joking, sort of. He would do anything for Indi's mom, but...breathing with strangers was just that smidge too weird for him, even if he could fully understand and appreciate the science behind it. His features shifted into a grin as Indica brought up her massage lessons, "Clearly, for the furtherance of your education, I am willing to subject myself to your torture techniques".

Thinking about what Mac could do if his sisters decided that perhaps following in Indi’s footsteps were a little more appealing than just limiting their options to one type of person, Indi pursed her lips before looking at him with a wry grin.  He was either going to laugh or punch her in the shoulder.  There was probably no middle ground for this.  “You challenge her to a duel if you wanted,” Indica offered, “you know, whip out the white glove and a swift smack across the cheek.  Who knows?  She might even like it and you wouldn’t have to whoop her,” she teased. 

She didn’t approve of violence, of course, and dueling was not her strong suit, but it was funny to think about.  Besides, she didn’t know many girls who wouldn’t duel Mac about it.  “Don’t worry too much though,” she grinned at him, “I give them the exact opposite advice I would give to myself,” she patted his leg.  That was true, she didn’t encourage the girls to mess around with anyone who showed interest, she didn’t tell them to keep things casual and just play around because they were young.  She told them that everything was special and that they were special and the whole thing was supposed to be built on love and trust – and it wasn’t that she didn’t believe that was true, but she also knew herself very well. 

She knew what she could handle.  The girls didn’t have quite the same resiliency that Indi did.  She giggled when he said that they could breathe and exhale… Indica pressed her palms against the edge of the planting box and lifted the basket after her, resting it in the crook of her elbow.  She reached behind her and brushed any dirt that might have been on her bum off.  “Come on, as long as the partners are there my mum won’t even notice us,” she laughed and started across the roof.  “Keep up,” she chimed, glancing over her shoulder with a grin, “or no torture for you.” 

She mounted the stairs and started to descend.  The stairs let out into the apartment and Indica heard her mom still loudly coaching the pregnant woman.  She heard the woman's partner asking the purpose of all this and her mother's remarks in return - if Indi knew her mom as well as she did, and her business, the woman was probably looking at her like she was crazy.  Indi laughed to herself and dropped the basket by the entry way to the kitchen, turning behind her to put her finger to her lips.  "Shh," she whispered and darted down the hall to her room before her mum could even turn to beckon them forward to demonstrate something for her.  It wouldn't be the first time and Indica was not in a mood for that.  When she got into the room, she let out a loud laugh and leaned against the door.  "Escaped," she grinned.