September 25
10:30am

Grace hesitantly unlocked the door to Greenhouse Two and stepped inside. She glanced around, anxious to see if anyone else was there. After DADA, she had headed back to the dorms to grab something to snack on before pulling out the small parcel that she now carried with her along with her bag. If she was lucky, none of her classmates would be as enthusiastic about tending to their gardens and she would have a few hours of peace and quiet alone time to work.

Because of it's connection to her future career profession, Herbology was easily one of Grace's favorite subjects. She was always eager to see the practical uses and connections between what she was learning about and what she would be doing. Plus, she never minded getting her hands dirty.

When Professor Bombay had informed the Seventh Years about their project, it hadn't taken Grace long to come up with her list of what to grow. She actually had a very personal reasoning behind each and every plant she had selected and that was probably why she was rather secrative when working on her little plot.

She quietly headed over to it and got straight to work. In her early weeks, Grace had spent her time making sure that part of her garden was ideal for the planting of Sheep Sorrell. And now that the roots had gone in, she had turned her attention to the next plant, the Burdock.

Folding her legs underneath her so that she sat on her haunches, Grace pulled her notebook out and opened it up beside her. She also searched around in her bag for a pencil and after finding it, her eyes scanned over the last bit of text that she had written following the last "class" session.

Still not sure if it's worth it to plant some Turkey Rhubarb Root, she ruminated, nibbling on the middle of the wood of the pencil. After making a few idle notations in the margin of one page, she tucked it behind her ear. Oblivious that anyone else may have been around, Grace murmured, "Might be good for practice, but probably won't be any good for using in the tea any time soon...."

The first years were slowly driving him insane.  They were still meeting in the classroom, having been unable to restore Graham's trust in them to not set his greenhouse on fire.  It was a battle of wills, particularly with his little firestarter.  He held her personally responsible for the grey hair he found that morning.  Fortunately his next class was his favorite group, and Graham was looking forward to the results of their projects.

Greenhouse Two was his refuge; sharing it had been a huge leap of trust on his part, that he still had hesitations over.  Fortunately those doubts were proving false.  Some of his students were already making great headway with their plot, and Graham was quite proud of them.  As he entered the great house, Graham was pleased to see someone was already inside. 

"But an appropriate choice, given the rising number of pyromaniacs," Graham added, finishing her sentence.  Grace Eddy was one of his favorite students.  Healers usually were, although they always remained one notch short of perfect as they eschewed true herbology for the hodgepodge of the healing arts.  Still, healing was a noble pursuit and it meant those students were usually the most attentive.  "I raided my own stock after the infirmary incident, and I'm afraid it's still not back to its normal shape," he added, bemoaning the fate of his plucked burdock patch.  He felt naked every time he looked at it. 

"The Sheep Sorrel seems to be taking well," Graham continued, obliviously hovering over the young woman, "What else do you have in mind for the plot?"

Grace almost jumped at the sound of Professor Bombay's voice. It wasn't that his presence in the greenhouses was altogether shocking (because he was the Herbology Professor) but she had allowed herself to believe that had the whole place to herself for a while.

She looked up and sheepishly smiled at the Ravenclaw Head of House and the comment he had made. Grace was a prefect, so it didn't take much for her to know what was going on among the younger students, especially trouble caused by the ones in her own house. While she didn't know the entire story, she had a pretty good idea and she felt it was unfortunate all around. She didn't comment on that, and instead focused on what he had said about using his stock of burdock for the infirmary. The look of longing on Bombay's face touched a chord with her and she offered, "You're more than welcome to use any of my patch that's leftover after what I need, professor." She shrugged. "You know, when I'm not here anymore."

Even though the fact that she would be finished with Hogwart's after that year was an obvious thing, it was something Grace felt awkward about. Sure, she had thought about what she would be doing after school (as evidenced by her talk of becoming an healer), but she had spent a lot of time at the school and it felt like a home to her. Not being there would take some getting used to.

Clearing her throat (and essentially her thoughts), Grace glanced at the Sheep Sorrel he mentioned and she glanced to the area where she had planted them. "Yeah, another month or so and it should be ready." Then to his question about what else she was thinking of planting, she glanced down at her notebook and then back to Bombay's face.

Part of her was unsure if she wanted to share something so personal with anyone, but Grace also knew that growing Sheep Sorrel and Burdock and toying with growing Turkey Rhubarb Root and Slippery Elm Bark was probably the last thing on the minds of her fellow 7th year classmates. They were probably looking into growing something like flowers or something that might be used in potions. Her selection probably stood out like a sore thumb among them and it occurred to her that Bombay was not a Ravenclaw alum for nothing. Surely he could tell that she wasn't growing these things just for the fun of it.

She might as well be honest with him. Perhaps if she was lucky, he'd have some insight into her little personal project and be willing to help her. Grace's eyes cut to her notebook again and she reached down to flip back through pages of the research notes she had taken. She stopped at the one that had "ESSIAC" written in her neat, printed handwriting. Then she began to speak in a quiet voice, "Well, it would take too long to be able to use it for this, but I'd like to try growing Turkey Rhubarb Root. You know....to get some practice at it." She hesitantly looked up at him to see if his face registered the significance of the ingredients she had listed. She pointed to the entry she had made for the Slippery Elm Bark and said, "I'd love to plant some of this, but it only grows in the States and Canada, really. So I'll probably order that." Grace's brown eyes remained steady on Bombay's face and she tried to explain, albeit falteringly as she did so, "My mum....she had cancer. I'd like to keep her from getting it again....or if it comes back...."

Over the years, Graham had perfected the art of creeping.  He spooked students far too often to continually apologize, and often merely stated the habitual 'sorry' in his mind rather than aloud.  It made him appear even more rude to others, but to him it was easier than the whole rigamarole of apologizing and receiving forgiveness for an insignificant matter.  A spook was hardly worth the ten seconds usually spent to discuss it.

So it was that he ignored Ms. Eddy's slight reaction.  Instead, he focused further on her small plot of land.  "Thanks, I may take you up on that.  I have a feeling there will be more need as the semester goes on."  Those thoughts took him back to a dark place, the one with first years and fires.  The more he tried to not think of them, the more they came up anyway.  They were his own personal nightmare.

It was better to turn his mind towards better thoughts, like Ms. Eddy's garden. She should have been a Ravenclaw, in his opinion, but he wouldn't count her house against her.  The girl's notebook was an interesting collection of notes from his own lectures as well as other knowledge he could see.  He was vaguely familiar with Cassie's theory, but had never seen the treatment first hand.  That was something more in line with St. Mungo's, not an apothecary.  Still, he had sold enough for their purposes when he was in business, as brief as that was. 

He nodded along at her plans, particularly at the mention of practicing to care for her herbs.  It was a good plan--one needed to be familiar with the plants before one could expect to draw such power from them.  It required a more intimate knowledge than textbooks and charts could provide.  Unfortunately a sharp laugh left his lungs at the entry for Slippery Elm bark.  "I don't think you'll have time to harvest the bark before you leave Hogwarts, Ms. Eddy," he chuckled. Her voice faltered, however, and Graham momentarily regretted his laughter.  She was one of his best students, and he was there to nurture her growth, not stunt it with sarcasm.

Mothers were never a joking matter, particularly those suffering from potentially terminal diseases.  The apology hung on the tip of his tongue once more, and stayed there yet again.  Instead, he returned to the subject.  "I have some mooncalf dung left.  We'll have your plot going in no time," he added, attempting to encourage her.  If there were two things he couldn't stand, it was weepy women and talking about sick people.  In an attempt to rescue himself from the awkwardness of the conversation, he went back to the compost pile and wrestled a bag from the lean-to.  It was half-empty, but still enough for Ms. Eddy's use.  "Here you are," he huffed, setting the bag down by her feet.  It was an peace offering of sorts.

Grace hardly noticed the absence of an apology; she was more than happy to be focusing on the bit of land in front of her and also his ominous comment about needing more Burdock as the  year went on. Trying to be helpful yet again, she said, "Well, if you needed help planting more in your own plots, it's really no problem to help after I finish working on what I'm doing most days." Then realizing her offer could sound too much like sucking up, she grimaced and quickly emphasized, "Only if you needed the help fo course...."

She was relieved to turn her attention back to her notebook, and her written words were almost a sanctuary for her. For the most part, it wasn't full of judgement. Just ideas and knowledge. And both tended to be a driving force in her life. Looking up at Bombay, she saw that there was some familiarity with what she had written. And she anxiously awaited his input.

She hadn't anticipated his comment about the Slippery Elm Bark and she bristled slightly. What he said was something she already knew, which he might see if he had bothered to look more closely at her meticulous notes. The entry for that plant had how long it would take to grow underlined several times.

Before she could check herself, she said in a very defensive tone, "Well, Duh! I knew that." She immediately flushed, realizing that she had just snapped at her professor. She shrank back and decided to try again. "I mean....again, it's just practice, sir. But I don't think planting it here would be ideal anyway. It's going to be more practical to by both that and the Turkey Rhubarb Root, which I had already planned on doing. I could buy all the ingredients, really. But that's not the point."

Grace quickly ducked her eyes from his, still not believing what she had said to him and how she had said it. She would've apologized, but she was stubborn and instead she shrugged and said, "Nevermind. Maybe I'll just fill out the rest of the plot with sandalwood, lavendar, jasmine and chamomile."

Grace hadn't expected his "peace offering" and when she was confident that she had managed to quell anymore defensivenss, she looked back up into her professor's face and attempted a feeble smile. "Thanks...."

The idea that Graham would ever need help, and from a seventh year was quite preposterous.  Of course it was the nature of authority to be questioned, but would no one believe him as capable of planting a shrubbery? He bristled at her remark and bit down a crueler response than his answer. "If you would like the experience of assisting me, I could allow it." As if he needed to ask her to step away from her 'busy schedule' to help him,  It was laughable, ridiculous, and it made him a little angry.  But she was young, and a woman.  It was somewhat excusable.  He counted to ten, but by then she was the angry one instead of him.

"Good, I hoped you would after being in my class for seven years," he retorted, snapping back just as she had.  And you're right, that's not the point.  The point is for you to stretch yourself.  Chamomile?  Jasmine?  Go ahead, waste a land of magically enhanced, carefully cared for land.  I'll fetch my guitar and we can all sing about unicorns and rainbows," he paused, realizing that he was now shouting.  Either way, she was not about to waste his mooncalf dung on jasmine.

The thanks for it was unheard as he contemplated his next action.  "Go ahead with the rhubarb, but don't you dare try and plant anything else before I tell you," he added, leaving her to go deeper into the greenhouse.  He paused before a row, and withdrew a silver knife from his robes.  Graham kneeled, raised his knife to cut, then thought better.  He returned to the young girl and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.  "Ms. Eddy," he announced, "We...are going to have fun." He paused for a moment to let the suspense sink in, particularly now that all was forgiven in light of his new plan. 

"Plant your elm, and well, whatever it is you want.  But once we're able, I have an Autumn-Olive that is doing well at home.  And you will graft them together.  Should be interesting.  But in the mean-time, I have something more exciting for you.  So save a corner for me."  Again, Graham dashed away, only to return this time levitating a terra-cotta pot behind him.  Except it already had an occupant.  "Catch," he yelled, tossing a pair of safety goggles and dragon-hide gloves at her.  A large bulbuous flower head arose from a large two-leafed stalk.  The only thing to disturb the beautiful image of the orange and yellow flower was a string of twine tied around the middle of the bulb, preventing it from opening to flower. 

"This, my dear, is a bloodflower.  Just sent yesterday, it's quite a beauty.  Its venom is prized for it s medicinal components.  You'll need to be careful.  She requires careful fertilization and as you can imagine, is quite temperamental.  I'll need you to record everything you do for her while she's in your care.  She's too young to produce the toxins right now, so you don't need to worry as much when she spits, but it won't be too long before that becomes dangerous."  He paused, a small smile curling upon his lips.  "Consider her your new patient, Healer Eddy." 

Grace's face darkened as she picked up on a hint of annoyance in the professor's tone. Or was that sarcasm and condescention? And if so, was it simply because she was a student and he was so used to assuming all of his students were a bunch of nitwits full of devious intentions like burning his greenhouses to the ground? Given the recent event, she could understand that he might have trust issues that would compound a need to be in control. But her suggestion of helping was born out of simply being nice about it. And she had a lot of extra time that she could spend in the greenhouses. And she genuinely did want to get more experience.

But if he was going to be so touchy about it... Another thought crossed Grace's mind that went hand in hand with that one. She wondered why she had never really picked up on her Professor's ornery nature before. Or maybe she had and it just seemed different in a one-on-one context. In a class full of other students, his comments had rarely been aimed solely at her. Which would explain why her responses to them might have been so mild compared to now.

Damn the rules governing respect towards elders, she inwardly cursed. She quickly cut her eyes upward to the ceiling of the greenhouse, a gesture that seemed to say "forgive me for I know not what I do", and tried not to think too much about her parents being disappointed in her for not holding her tongue. But Grace's temper easily matched her red hair and before she could stop herself, she was already firing something back at him. "Fine. I would love to assist you," she bit out, emphasizing the word she was sure would make him happy. He was the teacher, she was the student. He had made that abundantly clear.

Grace didn't give herself airs too often, but she prided herself in taking her school work seriously--then, now and always. And sure, she had needed the guidance and expertise of her professors to do well, but she also worked hard on her own. And Bombay's insinuation that he was the sole reason for her success in the class annoyed her. "Yes. I think I was fully capable of knowing plenty in your class long before this year," she finally snapped.

Grace hardly had time to feel ashamed for that because she was stunned at his next comments about the other plants she had suggested using in her plot. She had taken his earlier jibes at her as mocking her first choices in plants. And her suggestion of Lavendar, Chamomile and the like was mainly as a means of brushing the whole thing aside and to cover how hurt she had been by it. The Essiac ingredients were personal, but his comments also hurt because they seemed to imply that he didn't seem to think more of her than the average student or believe in what she was doing. Afterall, even though Bombay was not her head of house, she did look up to him as a mentor and she appreciated the subject that he taught, perhaps more than he really knew aside from what she had just revealed to him about her mother.

His comments about the other plants being a waste also struck a chord with her. True, she was always looking for ways to stretch her knowledge and abilities and while the Essiac was a project with personal implications, it was also going to take more effort than the ones she had suggested second. She was familiar with them already. Still, the future healer in her was easily offended by what he said and how they were a waste.

"None of them would be a waste," Grace fired back stubbornly, her own voice raising as his had done. "Each one of them has healing properties and health benefits. And no, they're not exciting and they're not the rockstars of any greenhouse, but they're not a waste," she repeated. She was tempted to launch into a tirade about how each was used medicinally and how important they were for healers, but she was sure her energies would be wasted.

So instead, Grace abruptly turned away from him, her face red from anger and also embarassment by her behavior, and she started tending to her neatly planted rows of Sheep Sorrel. She barely heard his instructions not to plant anything else before he gave her permission. She was afraid if she said anything more, she'd really blow up at him.

She had calmed slightly when he returned, and when he announced that they were going to have fun, she tried to figure out if he was mocking her or being serious. But her interest was piqued, and the rest fo her anger seemed to slide away. As he spoke more, her eyes widened with wonderment at his plans and she listened intently, already filing away what he was saying.

When he left again, she didn't say anything, but now even though she was excited for a new project, she was also a little confused. Who was that man?

When he returned again and tossed the goggles and gloves her way, she eagerly put them on before peering down into the plant he had brought with him. As he explained to her what it was, her mouth dropped open slightly as it finally dawned on her that perhaps he did think highly of her afterall. Certainly enough to entrust that plant into her care.

She wasn't sure what to say, so instead, she fashed him a grateful smile and nodded, reaching out to gingerly finger one of the leaves, already going over in her head the log that she would keep and how determined she was that it would be thorough and complete. Finally, when she found her voice, she murmured, "Wow. This is amazing, Professor."

For the first time in all of Sasha's years at Hogwarts, he was avoiding the library.  Like a personal betrayal, his long time standby no longer held the feeling of comfort and security.  The locations where he could focus on his work without fear of interruptions were becoming fewer and much further between.  And, quite frankly, he was running out of options. Over the course of the beginning of the week, Sasha had situated himself in empty classrooms and, on a few occasions, had simply cloistered himself on his bed, with the drapes drawn.  Tuesday evening, Sasha had almost considered just announcing to his house that he had chemistry to study and needed to be left alone and he wouldn't answer questions about what chemistry was or why he was studying it.  Just  have it done and over with - but, not surprisingly, he'd refrained from the confession. 

Sasha had manged to finish his class assignment in potions in reasonable time and had left the potions dungeon a few minutes early.  Given he only had two hours of scheduled study periods a week, any extra time he could stick onto either of them was a unquestionable blessing.  September seemed to be holding the first breaths of autumn well at bay and Sasha was determined to take full advantage of the brilliant, warm sunlight. 

His bag slung over his shoulder, Sasha cut across the lawns towards the greenhouses.  They weren't, exactly, popular hangout areas - probably because Professor Bombay didn't exactly encourage hanging out.  So, in they warmth of the day, the students' desks and tables in the greenhouses could provide a rather pleasant place to work on planning what they'd do for the first meeting of the muggle culture club and to study. 

He could get to all of that after taking advantage of the wonderfully diffused midmorning light in the greenhouse to snap a few photographs of a late summer blooming ... well, he wasn't sure what it was.  It was a plant for one of the upper years - but the brilliant, satiny, blue flowers were bound to be reflecting the light perfectly.  Though, hopefully, not so much as to interfere with the getting the proper light balance. 

As he passed between the greenhouses, Sasha had, indeed, heard the elevated voices.  A girl's voice was elevated and speaking in that tone that Sasha now had come to recognize readily - and to slightly fear.  The words were expressing agreement but the tone ... the tone, quite clearly, expressed that the speaker thought the other person would be a complete fool if they believed they were being agreed with.  Neely used that tone on a regular enough basis that Sasha was convinced it was a skill girls were born with. 

But, the argument had nothing to do with him and he knew better than to think it was his business.  He ignored it.  Focusing on fiddling with the settings of the camera in his hand, Sasha payed the voices little mind - which turned out to be a disastrous mistake as Sasha chose to enter the very greenhouse from which the argument was issuing. 

He'd made it three steps into the greenhouse before he realized the building was occupied by Professor Bombay and an older student.  If he ran, was it possible he could make it out of the building before either of them noticed him?  Of course, retreating quickly would merely make him resemble prey more than anything.  So.  Bow out graciously.  That seemed the best option. 

Shifting the camera in his hand, Sasha cast the blue flowers a wistful glance before shrugging apologetically.  "I'm sorry," he offered.  "I didn't know - I was going to - take a few shots but I ... I'm sure it'll be blooming tomorrow."  Though, actually, it very well might not be.  He, after all, knew nothing of the plant. 

Beth had gone out in search of moral support. You see, that morning following class, she had decided to sit down and do some homework. Yes, you have permission to chortle. She had sat down with a textbook and good intentions, but before too long found herself with a familiar feeling in her gut – a feeling that said, without frills or eloquence, I would rather die than sit here and actually do this. She needed Grace around to hold her hand… or at least to apply a good sticking charm to her bum. That was usually affective for a little while, but only in good company. She had the best luck when she booked it outside with a list of incantations to memorize and just wandered in circles, around trees and over the land, saying them out loud until she could list every one of them off by heart. There were no new incantations to memorize today, though, so she’d thrown her book in the general direction of her bed (where it landed, open and spine up, on the ground about three feet short) and headed out for a one-sided game of hide and seek. If she found Grace before Grace found her, she decided, it would mean she had won.

She wandered the halls for a while rather aimlessly, peeking into classrooms and lifting the corners of old wall tapestries as though she was really playing a game of hide and seek. Her fruitless search became boring quickly, however, which naturally lead her to the outdoors. Once she was actually on the grounds and could see the whole landscape of potential hiding spots before her, she knew that she had to check the greenhouses. Grace was the sort of witch who actually got excited about long-term, open-ended herbology projects that required internal motivation and dedication. Beth, on the other hand, was the type of witch who got excited about not having lost her key to the greenhouse yet. She didn’t have especially well thought out plans for her little plot yet, but she was working on it – in between working on making cool poses in the mirror that made her look threatening.

Upon approaching the greenhouse she intended to be rather covert. She walked gingerly to an outside wall of the greenhouse and held her hands up to the glass like a visor, peering inside to see if she had guessed her friend’s location correctly. She gazed about, through the greenery, and then – bingo. A huge grin spread across her features knowing that she’d won her own little game and had tracked down her pal to boot. She took her hand and pounded on the glass in a well-meaning attempt to catch Grace’s attention, but the tapping was dull and easy to miss. She had a little ring on her pinky finger, so she used that to tap instead, creating a noise that was significantly more grating and obnoxious. That, of course, was when she noticed Professor Bombay standing there, too. Well, shoot. She merely waved brightly, smiling stupidly like she knew he was there the whole time, before making her way around to the door. Luckily Grace had unlocked it, because Bethan sure as hell didn’t have her key.

“I was searching the world for you!” she declared by way of greeting the moment she was through the door, shuffling over toward her friend, proud of herself for having completed her mission. “You would be so proud of me, you know. I was doing homework, but homework made me think of you, and I thought you could use some company – but then I realized that I didn’t know where you were, so I had to find you, because what if someone asked me where you were and I didn’t know? And what if I had a question and needed help?” she asked, all in one breath, her eyes wide. “I didn’t need help. Barely got through one page. But anyway,” she sighed, turning to the other two individuals occupying the greenhouse, “Hi. Alright?” she asked, shoving her hands in her pockets and rocking on her toes for a moment, a very sheepish grin on her face. She took a big side step and blocked her sad little plot so nobody would have the sad misfortune of having to actually look at the thing. “Isn’t she fabulous?” she asked, regarding Grace,  “That’s why we keep her around.”

If Graham had a penny for every time some student argued for the healing properties of chamomile, he would no longer need to work for a living.  Yes it was great for calming, relieving stress and many other things, but if you could grow it in your mother's windowsill it didn't belong in one of Hogwarts' world-class greenhouses.  It was one of his general rules of life that despite ten years of students hadn't changed one bit.

He would have argued the point further but she had fortunately changed her tune; most students did when he showed them what the greenhouse really had to offer.  As she put on the glasses, Graham kneeled beside the plant and softly caressed the bud.  "Shh," he whispered, gentle grasping the twine to untie it despite the plant's writhing.  "And this, my precious blossom, is your new caretaker, Miss Eddy." 

A loud snap to his right garnered both their attentions.  The plant flinched, moving to spit at the new intruder just as Graham placed his hands around the large flower to keep what he called it's 'mouth' closed shut.  "In or out, Schlagenweit," he yelled out, petting the plant softly to calm it down.  "She hates surprises," he muttered, more of an aside to Eddy for future reference in its care. 

Ting Ting Ting

The plant moved again, and Graham looked up to see another face.  He groaned, glad not to have  moved his arms from around the plant as the older blonde practically skipped into his greenhouse.  "Contain yourself, please, Miss Ellis."  As she rambled on, Graham rolled his eyes at the thought of ever getting serious work done with any of his students.  It was a reminder of why he rarely let the older years into his world, and Graham was beginning to regret this year already.  "Miss Eddy, are you here to chat with your friends or to take care of your plot? Unlike myself," he drawled, "your patient can't sit around all day listening to the daily minutiae of Miss Ellis."

Grace's focus on the conversation with Bombay was diverted first by the interest in the plant and the prospects of him entrusting its care to her and then by the arrival of Sasha Schlagenweit. He was a Ravenclaw and she admittedly didn't know him well outside of Quidditch matches, prefect duties and random other run-ins that typically had more people around.

She was about to encourage him to stay, with an apologetic smile in the hopes it might erase whatever amount of the scene he had witnessed between herself and the Herbology Professor. Grace wasn't proud of her testy behavior, especially with a professor, but she wasn't convinced that she was fully in the wrong.

Before Grace could get any words out to assure her classmate that his presence was fine, the very loud arrival of her dormmate Beth resounded next. Almost as soon as her friend stepped into the greenhouse, Grace's face began to tinge as red as her lock of hair and she had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. She didn't think she could be anymore embarassed than she was but Beth's rambling seemed to effectively do the trick. Grace did not make a habit of worrying what others thought about her, but allowing the dysfunction of hers and Beth's friendship (no matter how endearing it was to her) be placed on display for professors to see was not exactly something she reveled in.

By the time Beth had uttered the words, That's why we keep her around, Grace was sure that her face was now beet red with extreme mortification. Her eyes flew from her friend, to Sasha and then finally to Bombay, just as the professor posed to her what seemed to be the most nerve wracking of all choices. "Um....well," she stammered nervously, reaching up to fiddle with the goggles she was wearing and suddenly feeling quite foolish. Then she squeaked out in a tone that was more like a question than an assertive statement, "I guess....I have no choice but to take care of the plant?"

Only those that have actually shown up to breakfast without remembering to get dressed (was that, really, humanly possible?) or who showed up to class only to realize they'd completely forgotten to prepare for their presentation understood the mind-numbing nature of being embarrassed to the point of paralysis.  Anyone who has remained blissfully unaware of that state is probably, likewise, unaware of how acute one's senses become.  Your ears are straining for any hint of reputation-maiming disapproval - your eyes are on the constant lookout for any possible escape - your nose is just ... well, working hard too. 

As Sasha stood just inside the greenhouse door, it wasn't disapproval or escape his senses detected.  It was a quiet, dull tapping and a nose flattened by the tinted glass.  Sasha seemed to be the only one aware of the poor attempt at intrusion.  But, there wasn't time to worry about it - there were more pressing (and difficult) matters at hand.  "I...I'm sorry, sir." Sasha frowned apologetically at Professor Bombay.  Despite the reproach, Professor Bombay had offered him the option of staying or leaving.  "I just wanted -"  It probably mattered little what Sasha's intentions had been.  "Thank you, sir."  Though the comment was directed at the other student, Sasha took careful note of the plant disliking surprises and disconnected the small flash cube from the body of the camera. 

The tapping, however, continued fruitlessly.  But, rather than ... well, utilizing the door that was a few steps away, the dull tapping changed to a higher pitched clicking.  The newcomer didn't seem at all embarrassed by her own behavior even if it deepened the color on Sasha's face.  Further mortification by association.  Hopefully, though, Professor Bombay recognized that this was not Sasha's fault. 

Sasha scowled at the face pressed against the window and tried to shake his head.  Not that he expected his approval or disapproval to make much of a difference.  The face did, however, move away from the glass.  Only to push its way through the door and towards the other older student.  Sasha recognized both of them though, given they were from different houses and years, he didn't know the second girl.  He only really knew Grace Eddy by name.  And flying style.  But, it was clear the girl that came in seemed to have a distinct penchant for ... well ... saying a lot without actually saying much.  He flinched when the second girl finally tore herself away from the first girl and greeting both him and Professor Bombay.  In the same manner.  At the same time.  Sasha cast Professor Bombay another apologetic scowl before nodding in acknowledgment of the greeting.  "Allo," he finally offered.  "You ... keep her ..."  At least it appeared Grace was experiencing some of her own embarrassment. 

But, it wasn't his business - nor did he want it to be his business.  Leaving 'Ellis' and Grace to ... whatever they were doing, Sasha crossed the room to the plot with the purple flowers, trying to move as quietly and unobtrusively as he could.  He missed Grace's beseeching glance to Professor Bombay and himself as he knelt down and lifted the camera body to his face.  The light wasn't great - if he knew anything about the plants around him, he would have considered casting lumos to improve the lighting but not knowing what effects it might have on the plant he resisted.  The shutter clicked, quietly, several times before straightening up.  His eyes settled, briefly, on the plant in Professor Bombay's hands and, for a moment, he was tempted.  But, again, he opted for the safe route and shook his head, answering his own question.