Hazard to (Plant) Life (Neville Longbottom)

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So, due to issues with wattpad's servers, this one shot is a day late. But at least it's out there. I won't lie, this isn't edited (when are they ever edited) so please look over any issues ~

I'm not satisfied with this one ...

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The moment fifth year was over, I would never - never - set foot in this cursed greenhouse ever again. Once I'd sat through my Herbology O.W.L, and hopefully got a passing grade, I'd leave this damned subject far behind. I couldn't wait for that time to come. But until then, I did have to sit through each lesson and struggle my way through it, to try to scramble a passing grade in some way. Not that I struggled with the theoretical aspects of the topic, but the practical aspects well - I didn't want to think on that matter, to begin with. Just thinking about it would make my mood plummet. For now, I'd work to scramble together an A, a measly Acceptable and I would be happy. More than happy, I would be over the moon, I'd be so pleased that I'd volunteer to be the one to sneak the alcohol into the common room for the next party. But well ... I had to get to that point first of all.

Dropping my head slightly, I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the beginning of a tension headache forming at the base of my skull. Only Herbology could give me this sort of headache. Hannah, sitting at my side and knowing me through and through, reached out a sympathetic hand and patted my shoulder.

"Just another 30 minutes," she said softly, voice lowered so that no one else heard our conversation. Lowering my hand back to my lap, I nodded, and let out a deep breath, she was right.

"Just 30 minutes," I repeated like a mantra.

"If you think about it, it's just three 10-minute slots," Susan piped up from my other side.

Glancing between my two dormmates, I shared a smile with them, hoping it told them it summed up how grateful I was to them both, without me having to say it. Not that my smile lasted long. Rather, it faltered the moment Professor Sprout announced that she would be pairing students to work together for the rest of the term.

"Oh Helga," I despaired, feeling my headache return in full force. This time, neither of my friends tried to offer me any reassurance, they knew it wouldn't work this time.

We all sat in silence, listening as Professor Sprout took her time to pair us all up. My hands were wound together in my lap as I waited, silently hoping that I got paired with someone who, like me, struggled with the subject. At least that way I wouldn't feel bad about dragging them down. It would ease my guilt if I wasn't forcing someone to blunder with me. Not that my head of house was so kind. Sprout saw fit to pair me up with Longbottom, arguably one of the most capable students in the classroom and I watched apprehensively as the Gryffindor made his way across the greenhouse, settling into the seat Hannah had emptied minutes ago.

Longbottom, settling comfortably in his seat, offered me a small smile. "You alright, Quimby?"

"I'm alright, Longbottom," I said just as quickly, returning his smile. Merlin, the poor sod had no idea what he was getting himself into by being paired up with me. If he did know, he wouldn't be so quick to offer me such a friendly smile. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks." He nodded, offered me another smile and then we both turned once more to the front of the room where Professor Sprout remained dividing the students up into pairs.

I watched the older witch as she moved around the room with her usual warm grace and nerve-easing smile. Sometimes I hated that about her. I couldn't help but resent it when she looked at me with such kindness because it made it worse when I disappointed her. Disappointing Professor Sprout was something I dreaded and it made each Herbology lesson more draining than it should have been. Although she never said it, I knew it had to be grating Sprout that one of the members of her house wasn't capable of looking after plants, rather they had a black thumb. No doubt that was why she'd paired me with Longbottom, someone who was practically a prodigy in the subject, hoping that he'd rub off on me. Not that she knew the opposite would happen, I'd bring his grade down.

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