Title is a quote from Allegiant by Veronica Roth.

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It wasn’t necessarily unusual to see Jordyn in the greenhouses, but she rarely made extra time for planting and pruning.  Truthfully, if it weren’t a necessary skill for post-graduation, she wouldn’t have done it at all.  But, St. Mungo’s and medicine in general required an intimate knowledge of not only the properties of plants, but the application of their various properties in healing patients. 

Standing in front of the planting boxes, she went through each of the plants.  It was rather dull, mentally cataloguing how they could be used in a hospital setting, but it was appropriate studying for NEWTs on top of practice for the future.  There’d surely be a section on practical application and healing was perfect for that.  She’d even gotten permission from the appropriate parties to collect samples of ingredients to bring to Professor Vaillancourt as a practice in practical potion making[1]. 

She knew it was a fifth year skill[2], but there was nothing wrong with sharpening one’s skills in preparation for the future.  Additionally, it was a rather pleasant break from reality, being in the greenhouses without other students bustling about.  She was alone, with her revising, and not thinking about the past week or so worth of events.  Well, certain parts of it, anyway. 

If she never had to serve another detention, it would be all too soon, that much was for certain.  She couldn’t believe that Lydie ruined her perfect record!  At least the headmistress hadn’t been fooled by her, but it still didn’t make her feel totally better.  Thinking about the reason why they had the fight was also bittersweet.  She was really convinced that Jordyn was a bad person who did bad things, but she was just a girl who was interested in a boy… who was completely wrong for her, but that wasn’t the point.  The point was that she was with someone else now and that was actually kind of exciting.

Her heartrate picked up a tick as she smiled to herself.  Examining the bright purple bulbs of the comfrey[3], her eyes wandered down to the leaves and the soil.  The bulbs were virtually useless, but the leaves and roots could treat stomach ailments and were a key component of skele-gro[4].  She tugged at the base of the plant while also gingerly using her trowel to dislodge it from the soil.  With a final tug, it was free and she placed it in the trug she carried with her for disassembly later. 

1.	Permission by Tor!
2.	Blooming Cauldrons, Boiling Plants
3.	Comfrey and its uses
4.	Skele-gro

It was raining outside.

He had gone out on the grounds for a smoke, and to reminisce on events of the career fair, but the weather rather ruined that intention. There was something melancholy about rain in the Spring. It made Virgil think of trampled flower buds and spilled cups of tea. He lowered his hood and shook out his hair as he ducked into the closest greenhouse.

The air here was warm and humid, redolent of fresh herbs. He paused at the threshold to breathe this in - for a very short and sweet moment he thought about how he would never have this again, after he left Hogwarts. But then reality settled in again and Virgil realised he was not alone.

"Dimbleby-" he said her name softly, slipping into the aisle between the plant boxes like a meandering cat. "- you look prim this afternoon. I hope I'm not interrupting a scandalous rendezvous."

There was no real sting in the words. Virgil paused a couple of paces away from her to lean against one of the planters, picking at the leaves of a young Valerian plant. He dug his nail into the damp neck of its reddish white florets and tore it out neatly. "The couple that harvests together, stays together?" he continued, dusting bits of dirt off the flowers.

Virgil looked back up at his housemate with a soft, sleepy smile. He loved flowers. He had sent one to Cadance, by way of apology. They were so much nicer than humans (save that one human of Being Division).

He ate the flower.

Virgil’s voice wasn’t exactly the most pleasant one to hear, but with the rain pattering away at the glass roof, she found the patience to just look up from her careful work and spare a bemused smile, “Carstairs,” she greeted with a timbre to her voice equal to his. 

She snorted at his question and shook her head.  Even when he probably wasn’t trying to be an ass, it was like he had an insatiable need to prove that he was one.  She reminded herself of her new thing: attempt to be less… her.  Rather than snapping back, Jordyn flicked her eyes up as she clipped some leaves off of the comfrey plant.  “Nothing scandalous,” she assured him, tucking the leaves into a glass vial and placing it carefully in the garden bag, “and no harvesting together,” she levied him with a flat look.

Of course he would find out.  Not that Jordyn was hiding anything, really.  But, he always had a way about sounding slimy when he did.  She just had to let the water slide off her back, as it were, and Jordyn returned to the comfrey, examining the next stalk to ensure that the roots would be mature enough to harvest.  “What about you?” she looked at him with quirked eyebrows as he put the valerian flower into his mouth.

“Having trouble sleeping?” she asked clinically.  Valerian was commonly used for that, “the root is more useful,” she added, though she assumed he already knew.  Virgil was smart; there was no contesting that.  She stuck her spade in the ground and tilted it with precision to dislodge the root. 

“What brings you out here today?” she smirked, “I think they’ve started locking up the gillyweed plants from sticky fingers.” 

Judging by the lack of sharp rejoinders, it appeared that getting some had clearly mellowed Jordyn. If sex were all it took to do that then the House of Slytherin had clearly been amiss in not attempting to set her up with Tawse at an earlier date. They might have all been spared the grief of her personality!

Virgil made a sound of mock disappointment as he was informed that no scandal was to take place today. Still chewing on the bitter and pungent flower, he wandered past Jordyn and easily squeezed himself between her and the planters on the other side. "I never have difficulty sleeping," the prefect swallowed smugly.

It was true - even with recent traumas and waking up some nights, he found it exceedingly easy to sleep. His reputation as a ceaseless napper remained untarnished.

          "What brings you out here today? I think they’ve started locking up the gillyweed plants from sticky fingers."

He laughed gently at her quip, moving away and continuing down the aisle to observe various other herbs; Virgil held his hands out and let the tips of young leaves graze his fingers while he passed. Everything was verdant and green and growing. They had all been so busy studying that they forgot the world was coming to life around them once more.

"I've come to dream, sans gillyweed," he explained without looking up but his voice held a smile, "and to be with kindred spirits. I like to think that the plants know something we don't, about this season."

Virgil paused at the end of the aisle, where water was steadily dripping from the high glass roof to form a shallow puddle in the floor. He caught a drop of it in the palm of his hand and noted that it was clean. His gaze lifted to the grey light of the ceiling and then shifted to Jordyn, thoughtful.

"You're lucky. He likes you and you like him. That's a miracle, isn't it? Reciprocation." Virgil sighed and wiped his hand off against his jacket. "And not simply because you're rather unlikeable."

Virgil was so strange.  Really, if he wasn’t so acerbic, he might have been suited for the high-minded house of Ravenclaw.   She always felt like she didn’t have time to have her head in the clouds or worry about dreaming of anything.  Carstairs, on the other hand, never seemed to come down from the clouds, unless it was to grace the peasants with his wit or airy commentary.

He waxed poetic about seasons and plants while her fingers stayed in the dirt.  There was a much more practical answer to his questioning though, a biological imperative to bloom in the spring.  “If they start to enlighten you, I might go see Madame Sage,” she added, clipping the roots off the final stalk of matured comfrey and laid it all to rest in her basket. 

Wrapping her hand around the handle, Jordyn moved down the boxes to the next set of herbs.  Responsible for one of her least favorite candies, the licorice plant[1] was useful for the hospital wing and their potions master, so she inspected the plants with a careful eye. 

There were more vials to fill and her work wouldn’t stop because Virgil wanted to be himself.  Lifting her eyes, she made a sour expression as he indicated she was lucky – a miracle.  It made her stomach twist a little bit, even if he didn’t want to be rude, it was.  He probably couldn’t help it – it was his personality. 

She plucked the leaves, to be boiled down for an ulcer cure and gingerly tucked them into the vial before she would take the roots for pain relief potions.  “You’re rather unlikable yourself,” she pointed out as she put the cork stopper in the glass, “but I’ve been told there’s a shoe for every foot.” 

She was calculated in saying so, lifting her eyes only momentarily to look at him, “so there’s hope for you and your miracle, yet?”

1.	Licorice Root

He snorted softly at the notion of conversing with foliage - but it did sound like something he had read[1] somewhere, smeared by the darker overtones of what they were doing to the plants in these greenhouses. Virgil did not linger on the thought, did not want to when his body felt so full of fragrance and light. Instead, he wandered into the next aisle over where a long table had been emptied of planters - possibly ready to receive newly sowed ones later next week.

"It's not a crime, being unlikeable..." he muttered aimlessly. Being unlikeable never bothered him. All sorts of obnoxious people were likeable and, when you can read minds, it's easy to see how quickly likability could veer into an insidious strain of arrogance.

Perhaps that was why he didn't mind Jordyn. She was Head Girl but she was far from ostentatiously charming. The wizard turned around to look at her across the aisle,  and then leaned against the table before pulling himself up on to it.

               "...so there’s hope for you and your miracle, yet?"

Virgil smiled - worse, grinned - and fell back to lie down on the  surface, streaks of loose soil catching in his blonde hair as he stared up at the glass ceiling. At the grey cloud, the falling rain.

"No!" he projected his voice dramatically and threw an arm across his eyes, red mouth still unable to control its wild grin. "No," Virgil repeated, quieter now. "I don't think there is any hope. It doesn't matter. I'll take the dream of my shoe over the reality of a hundred Xaviers."

As nimbly as he'd moved before, Virgil drew his arms aside and sat up against his elbows to shoot Jordyn a happy look. "Imagine a hundred Xaviers!" he shuddered and laughed.

1.	The Sound Machine by Roald Dahl

“If it was, we’d both be in Azkaban ten times over,” she returned quickly.  It wasn’t exactly a secret that they were both sort of messed up and more than a little unpleasant at times.  But, obviously there were some people who tolerated them.  Virgil seemed to be just as abundant in friends as he was in enemies and while Jordyn couldn’t say the same, she obviously had some people who liked her. 

Maybe a few less nowadays, but that was bound to happen over time. 

Her hands kept moving as she watched him sit on the empty garden table.  She couldn’t imagine.  It was so dirty.  Wrinkling her nose, she couldn’t believe he would – and worse – lie down!  She tugged at the roots of the plant from the base and wiggled it out of the dirt. 

With a satisfying little pop, the plant was free and she put it with the rest before moving to the next plant.  Virgil was being… odd… well, more odd than usual, anyway.   He was super loud, dramatic as all get out as he continued talking about dreams and shoes and a hundred Xaviers.  It made her cheeks turn hot. 

Did he always have to be such an ass? 

Rolling her shoulders a little, Jordyn lightly tapped her gloved palms together and rubbed the dirt off before bracing herself against the planting box.  “I doubt the world could handle more than one Xavier Tawse,” she blushed, despite her attempt to be as serious as possible about it, as that was most assuredly true.  Jordyn certainly couldn’t.  She could barely handle the one now. 

“Though,” she added, tugging a fistful of leaves off the next stalk, “I think I prefer something tangible to a dream, don’t you?” 

He let the length of his body relax into the table, feeling the contours of the wooden surface along the stretch of his long legs and the small of his lower back. It was as good as a bed, he thought, even as he continued to sit up to watch his housemate pluck away at herbs or roots or whatever it was she was using to distract herself from the Act of Living. Jordyn's mind did seem to be... somewhere else. Distracted. That blush was highly suggestive.

Virgil narrowed his gaze, unbridled smile turning sardonic while he quickly gleaned a string of her thoughts. Ah. One Xavier Tawse was enough for her, was it?

But her following question diverted this line of amusement, and Virgil made a sound not dissimilar to that of a pained groan as he let himself fall back down to the table. His shoulder blades stung at the movement - he ignored the ache.

"Of course one prefers the tangible. Only there's no tangible substitute for what I want! It wouldn't compare," the prefect held his hands up and splayed his fingers, watching the dim light filter through the gaps between them. "He's indescribable. Anomalous. I think he was put on this earth to make my soul suffer."

He grinned again, not realising he was doing it. What sublime suffering this was! His hands dropped back to his sides and Virgil closed his eyes to picture the visage of this deep infatuation; just as he remembered it not two days ago, lighting a forbidden cigarette at the dawn of the season.

Already it seemed too much time had passed since their encounter. "Perhaps you are right." Virgil confessed, eyes still closed. "Perhaps one Xavier Tawse is enough. One Cepheus Gamp is already more than this world deserves."

She had never seen Virgil Carstairs smile so much.  It was a little unsettling, mostly because she imagined the look on his face when his lips had disappeared and then the gush of blood before she had healed him… his smile was just so unsettling. 

Even more than that though was probably his musing.  Jordyn didn’t understand why he was talking to her about this.  Usually, this sort of romantic idealation was reserved for friends and Jordyn was under absolutely no pretense that that label could be applied to their relationship. 

But, here he was – talking about anomalies in the universe and soul suffering, like some lovesick puppy to her.  Jordyn was not nearly so quixotic.  She punctuated her lack of understanding of such tender feelings with a swift snap of a stalk.  “I doubt anyone has such a cruel life’s mission as that,” jordyn replied skeptically, hoping he would see just how dramatic he was. 

The powers of a crush were always overwhelming.  It appeared some were hit worse than others.  She almost felt bad for him, it was like he was in third year and he’d just discovered that feelings could exist.  It might have surprised her a little more that he was infatuated with a boy, but matters of other hearts hardly surprised her anymore.  She’d heard stranger things, that was for certain. 

Jordyn was far more reserved – and practiced – than all of that.   The name was familiar though, Gamp.  “Related to Ariadne?” she raised her eyebrows with inquiry, “Hm…” Jordyn reached to the top of a plant and plucked the flower pod off.  “And what makes Cepheus Gamp such a gift to the world?”

Gleaning the odd thought from Jordyn, here and there and not too thorough a reading, his red mouth could only grow wider in its grin. Was he really so sullen that his smiles were alarming? Yes. Better to face that reality about himself. He was a sleepy and sullen boy - except for when he thought about a specific man, for then he hardly qualified as human at all.

And though he wished to be discreet and pragmatic about this business, it did not seem possible. Virgil had a crush in full bloom.

            "And what makes Cepheus Gamp such a gift to the world?"

He opened his eyes and sat up, swift as a cat whose tail had been tread upon as he upset the herb planters on neighbouring tables. The young wizard watched his housemate with almost childish eagerness. Yet his voice, when it came, was soft instead of exuberant.

"He has a kind face. The kindest, in fact." Virgil's eyelids, waxen and effeminate, fluttered uncertainly. "And now that I know he exists, I don't think I can imagine a world without him in it."

Hyperbole? Who was he to say? All he could say was what he felt, and even then his mouth did not always cooperate. Virgil sighed, smile settling into something less zealous and more melancholy. He considered Jordyn with a more attentive eye now: her prim selection and picking of herbs.

"It's Ari's uncle. The man who was at the sex education panel," he added as an afterthought and failed to mention Mortimer Gamp's son. "Not that I expect anyone to remember. I'm sure you had your own concerns that day." Virgil tilted his head to the side, curious. "Tawse doesn't fall into your realm of prudence. Opposites attract, is it? Or does he get off on that attitude?"

She had never seen Virgil like this. 

His smile was wide and he looked completely besotted.  Jordyn could not imagine being so outward in her feelings.  She could hardly be lovesick in front of the person she was being lovesick over, let alone someone she could hardly call a friend.  The word was a bit strong, all things considering, but Jordyn was feeling amicable and since she had healed his mouth he’d been far less likely to say anything to her, so an unsteady truce had seemed to develop. 

Besides, Virgil did not seem capable of ill feelings right now, not with those mooncalf eyes.  “He sounds unreal,” Jordyn commented, only half-joking.  Generally, thinking you couldn’t breathe without another human being in your life was probably rash. 

Her hands stilled as she observed him, tilting her head to the side. Things were starting to click.  The last name was suddenly so familiar, especially now connected to their classmate and the event they’d attended.  And, of course, the event they’d all heard about – some of her less fortunate classmates having experienced it.  “I’ve heard of him,” she tried to be as neutral as possible in responding, “and I do remember the panel.” All too well.  It had been absolutely mortifying experience. 

Granted, he was somewhat unremarkable in her eyes, but it wasn’t her place to judge.  After all, as Virgil so tactlessly pointed out that she and Xavier were an unlikely pair.  As true as that might be, he really needed to work on his delivery.  “You’d have to talk to him about that to find out the answer,” Jordyn snipped prudishly all while snapping a stem in two. 

“But, I think,” she looked at him again, deciding to be candid (probably against her better judgment), “we’re not as opposite as we appear and Xavier can be… surprising.”  She glanced down again at her work, embarrassed as her cheeks pinked up.  In comparison to Virgil’s emotive display, she was markedly reserved.  “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” 

It pleased Virgil to know that, in her thoughts, Jordyn's discomfort surrounding the panel somehow managed to overpower the awkwardness of remembering February's kidnappings. Good. That wasn't something he could truthfully discuss with someone wholly unconnected to the events of that day; it was like walking on eggshells in his head.

So for now he would forgive her for thinking Cepheus unremarkable. He swung his long legs down to the floor but remained seated, brushing dirt off his jeans.

Jordyn's sharply snipping scissors punctuated her response to his prodding about Xavier.

"Surprising," Virgil repeated once she had decided to gift him with a genuine answer. "Xavier Tawse is surprising?" he bit his lower lip, trying to imagine that. He shared a dorm with Xav. There weren't a lot of things Virgil found surprising, not when he could read minds or when he was privy to the domestic habits of his housemates.

In a way, he envied that about Jordyn. He was trying his utmost not to read Cepheus' mind but had slipped up during their career fair encounter. "You must really like him. So would you really like me to ask?" Virgil straightened his back, pretending to speak with an imaginary figure sat next to him on the table.

"I say, Tawse-" he put on a droll accent and drew a hand to his boney hip. "- is she as much a prude as I thought, or is that what lifts your sails, old chap?" Virgil paused to drop the act, looking back emphatically at the witch across the aisle. "You know, I think he might hex me almost as badly as Cadance did."

“I think so,” Jordyn replied primly.  She did not understand why Virgil was so set on trying to upset her – or anyone, really.  He had the uncanny ability to get just close enough to a sore spot that his target would flinch just enough so he knew where to hit if he really wanted to do damage.  It was notably cat like, which was a fitting comparison for Virgil Carstairs.  She didn’t want to seem like the mouse in his little game today. 

It was so hard though, to not fall into his little traps. 

He set them so easily, pretending to ask innocuous questions.  She distrusted him on instinct – and she was right to.  That much was obvious.  “You’re right, I shouldn’t like that.”  Her fingers worked quickly untangling some creeping vines of the plant she had shuffled to stand in front of. 

She couldn’t tell him not to talk to Xavier though.  It’d be pointless. They were dorm mates and if Virgil knew it’d vex her he’d definitely do it.  Just to spite her.  He was, after all, doing his best in the moment to ensure it.  The color on her cheeks only dimmed a little as he spoke. 

“You seem to be spending a lot of time preoccupied with my choices, Virgil,” she tried to sound as neutral as possible, even though every single hair stood up on end.  “You’d get hexed less if you stopped prying,” she added, lifting her eyes from the careful work of untangling as her hands stilled.  It would obviously be a challenge for him, given it seemed nearly impossible, but as she dropped her eyes to the plant again and continued to untangle.  “Or does that… how did you say?” she flicked her eyes up again just for a brief moment, “lift your sails, old chap?"

Virgil slipped off the table altogether, walking daintily between heavy planters as he glanced at his housemate in the other aisle while they spoke. Her thoughts were of him and so they were practically begging to be read... though he was very careful not to show any sign of irritation upon giving in to temptation. Professor Duerr would have been disappointed and, while it was difficult to block out all thoughts, he could at least attempt not to use them to his cruel advantage.

It's not like he went out of his way to upset anyone. The wizard paused at a scattering of potted herbs to breathe in their scent. His eyelids fluttered close for a moment.

Rosemary. Lavendar.

    "Or does that… how did you say? lift your sails, old chap?"

He laughed once, opening his eyes and shooting Jordyn a lively smile over his shoulder. That was more like it. "Perhaps it does. Now what fun would it be if we all minded our own business?" Virgil's eyebrows went up in mock wonderment before he turned back to the herbs and stuck his right hand into the dirt at their roots.

"Sometimes I read books when I'm bored," he declared in an irrelevant tone; he wiggled his fingers in the cool, loose soil. "But people are infinitely more interesting. On first impression they look like question marks, and then I have to dig deeper for answers."

Accordingly, he sunk his hand entirely into the pot, until he could feel the water pooling at its ceramic bottom - wet and grainy. "Answers are worth being hexed for. Therefore: why does Jordyn Dimbleby find herself compelled by Xavier Tawse? Supplementary exam question. Five points."

Virgil hummed, not quite looking at the leaves or earth or greenhouse anymore. He smiled and slowly began to retrieve his hand, fingers brushing against the bristly roots with care.

"Because, she says, they are not unlike one another. Because he is surprising." The prefect examined his grimy hand with an effeminate frown and began to pick at the dirt under his nails. "Because, I imagine, we like to see an affirmation of ourselves in other people."

He turned around to better face her, though not looking up from his nails. "It's a comfort, isn't it? A quiet little voice saying it's okay to be the way you are."

It struck her how limited his sense of self-preservation was.  Jordyn did almost nothing without considering how it might impact her, in the short and long term.  Little regard was given to how “fun” it may or may not be.  Virgil did not have those same instincts.  A lot more about him made sense at this moment.  The lethal combination of his self-admitted curiosity and poor instincts would have his mouth hexed shut.

He wouldn’t even mind, it appeared, as long as he had a good time doing it.  Shaking her head, she clipped and snipped, trying to ignore Virgil as he shoved his hands in the pot with the same delicacy that he asked probing questions.  “If that were all it took to earn extra points on an exam,” Jordyn shook her head and laughed, placing the budless stalk on her pile of collected plants. 

She was able to say silent just long enough so Virgil could espouse his own theories.  Waxing poetic was, after all, one of his hobbies.  He did a fine enough job, and if Jordyn were in the habit of giving compliments, she might even say he was being insightful.  Thankfully, she wouldn’t put either of them through the torment of that awkward interaction. 

Instead, she elected to snort at him (admittedly in a less dainty than she intended fashion).  “I guess you could say that,” Jordyn conceded.  Though, she would hardly say that was all it was, especially because her inner voice was not nearly so kind as all that. 

“Is this you reading me, Virgil, or thinking about your own little crush?” she raised her eyes to look at him critically.  It was much easier to deflect, and honestly, it was interesting to hear Virgil be so… romantic.  She wouldn’t have expected it.