Into the Marsh
Title: Into the Marsh
Author: lionille
Prompt: Susan & Mallowsweet: used in Divination
Format and word count: (one-shot) 1,950
Rating: G
Genre: Humor/Romance
Summary: Fluff. N/S
Susan straightened her hat and stepped off the busy alleyway into the cool sanctuary of the plant shop.
"Good morning, Neville, is my order in?"
"Just came off the wagon," Neville said cheerfully. He stepped out through the back door, leaving Susan to browse among the pots of fresh flowers. She was just rifling among the carnations when Neville returned, carrying a towering plant in a large black bucket, which he heaved onto the stone countertop. It swayed about, bobbing pink flowers in all directions.
Susan felt her temper flare. "I asked for a mallowsweet, not a marsh mallow!" she exclaimed in frustration.
"Um, no, I'm pretty sure you ordered a marsh mallow," he insisted, shuffling through a box of parchments by the register.
"Neville," she began briskly, "You're a wonderful human being, but you have a memory like a sieve. Now I specifically..."
"Here, look." He handed her a slip of stationery that looked very familiar.
With a certain quiet dread, Susan looked down to see the word marshmallow in her own elegant calligraphy. She felt her face go red. "Oh. My... I don't know what to..."
"It's all right, Susan. I'll send out for some mallowsweet."
"And what are you going to do with this thing?" she asked, looking up at the tall spindly plant.
"Make marshmallows?"
Susan laughed a little. "I'm so embarrassed," she admitted. "I must have been thinking of my shopping list when I wrote the order."
"If you don't mind my asking, Susan, why do you want the whole plant? You can get it dried for a couple of knuts a bag."
"Well, dried is all well and good for your average potion, but, well, you know, some things just have to be fresh. Very fresh. Sometimes." She fiddled anxiously with the paper, trying to think of some way to divert the conversation.
"Didn't mean to pry, Susan. Just thought I might be able to recommend a substitute." Neville ran his finger down the page of a large book on the counter. "We won't be able to get mallowsweet in til Tuesday, is that all right?"
"Tuesday?" she cried. She fumbled in her purse and pulled out her tatter-eared ephemeris, grasping the worn yellow silk bookmark and pressing the book open next to his. According to the tiny rows of numbers, her window of opportunity spanned from Saturday evening at six twelve through Monday morning at five fifteen A.M. "No, Tuesday is not all right!"
"Oh, well...."
"How could I have been so stupid? Mixing up my grocery list with my potions order!"
"Don't worry, Susan. We can go find one in the wild, if it's that important."
She looked up at him with sudden hope. "Really? You ... you wouldn't mind?"
"Not at all. Mallows like wet places, why don't we meet in Althaea's meadow tomorrow morning and try following the river for a bit."
"That would be wonderful, " Susan smiled. "See you at nine?"
*
Susan Apparated to the meadow at five to nine, to find Neville already there waiting for her.
"I brought sandwiches," Susan offered, holding up a small satchel. "I didn't know how long we'd be out here."
"Great. I brought bug repellent. And a shrunken shovel. Oh, and Trevor." Neville took a large toad out of his pocket and set him on the ground. "He hasn't had a field trip in ages."
Susan watched the brown amphibian begin springing through the high grass towards the river.
"How will you keep track of him?" Susan asked anxiously. She could only see him every few seconds when the apex of his jumps took him above the vegetation, and soon she couldn't see him at all.
"Oh, I expect he'll be missing by lunch," Neville said calmly, "but he'll turn up somehow. Always does."
Susan heard a heavy plop from the direction of the river. "Well, shall we get started, then?" she suggested.
Hunting for marsh-loving plants turned out not to be the easy amble Susan had been anticipating. The ground was tilted toward the water, knit tight with tree roots and strewn with sodden leaves. As the way became more and more difficult, she found herself understanding why so many wizards carried walking sticks.
"Careful, now, Susan, it can be slippery on these riverbanks because of the..."
Susan shrieked as a sensation not unlike ice-skating sent her careening towards the water, just as a pair of large hands grabbed her firmly by the arms.
"....algae," Neville finished.
Susan wrapped her own hands around Neville's forearms and carefully sought out firmer ground. "Thank you," she mumbled, blushing yet again as she detached from him.
*
At noon they rested under the shade of a tree and shared sandwiches and lemonade. With a little encouragement from Neville, Susan soon found herself chatting about the house she had recently bought. It needed lots of renovating, but her first project had been the bath. She'd mosaiced the entire room herself in a Tuscan theme, and had installed a new clawfoot tub. There was nothing Susan enjoyed more after a long day than a soak in homemade lavender bubble bath.
Susan suddenly flushed. Had she just said that out loud to the man she bought the lavender from every Monday? "I'm sorry, you must be tired of hearing about my Italian tiles," she went on in a rush.
"No, no, it all sounds... quite lovely." Neville had gone rather red himself, she noticed. He stood up. "Shall we press on?" he suggested.
*
By half one, they had found plenty of interesting plants, but no mallowsweet. Still, Susan was enjoying Neville's introductions and explanations of various species. She was something of an amateur gardener herself, and was more than happy to put seeds and cuttings of things he recommended into her pockets. They'd been traveling through a stand of cattails for a while, when Susan broke the silence.
"Neville?" she ventured. Something had been bothering her conscience, and she couldn't keep quiet about it any longer.
He took his eyes off the path long enough to glance over at her and arch an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry about yesterday. What I said? About your memory?"
"I don't remember you saying anything," Neville said.
For a moment, she thought he was serious, but then he gave her a lopsided smile, and she realized he was either teasing her, or being kind, or both, and she smiled back at him gratefully.
And slipped on another mat of leaves. She was certain she was going to end up in the river this time, but Neville grabbed her again. "Be careful, Susan!"
"Sorry, it's just so.... oh, no!"
In attempting to steady Susan, Neville went on his own slide down the embankment, Susan gasped in horror as he landed in the marsh with a splash. After a moment, he sat up from the shallow water, covered in strings of green. He began methodically pulling the stuff from his face as Susan waded in after, floundering around him in the mud.
"Are you all right? I'm so sorry!"
"M'fine, just ... lost my wand," he began groping around under the water.
"Oh, Neville, let's forget the mallowsweet and go home. It isn't worth it..."
"Not worth it?" he nearly shouted up at her. "It seemed pretty bloody urgent back at the shop!"
"Well, it was....it is....I mean, it sort of ..." she began to wring her hands.
"What? What do you need to Divinate that's so important?"
Susan supposed she owed him an explanation after all she'd put him through. "I found a spell that would help you determine who you would be compatible with. Romantically. You know, somebody you might overlook in the course of ordinary events, but that might secretly find you attractive..."
"Is THAT was this is all about?" Neville spluttered incredulously. "I thought that was what all those stupid quizzes in Witch Weekly were for!"
Tears filled Susan's eyes. "You wouldn't understand! Everybody expects a Gryffindor to stay footloose and fancy free, or a Ravenclaw to cleave to their career, but I'm the only person from Hufflepuff who hasn't married. I've been the witch of honor at eleven weddings. Eleven! What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing's wrong with you!" Neville held out his hands and waved them up and down at her. "Look at you, you're beautiful. I've always thought you were, even back in school!"
"You.. you did? But...."
"I mean, I know I never asked you out or anything, but that was because I never could seem to get anywhere with Hufflepuff girls. I gave up trying."
"But .... that's because we all thought you were ... you know..." she paused delicately.
Neville looked momentarily confused, but his expression shifted into aghast comprehension soon enough. "What? Why would you think a thing like that?"
"Well, there was a rumor going around, and you never seemed to go out with any girls..."
"Well, that's probably because there was a stupid rumor going around!" he bellowed.
"Oh, Neville, I'm sorry!" Susan clapped her hand over her mouth, caught between genuine sympathy and the sudden, desperate urge to laugh.
She lost the battle for composure when a particular brown toad chose this moment to return to his master, landing neatly on Neville's head. As Neville reached up for Trevor, Susan shook with laughter. She was afraid he was going to be even angrier with her,but she couldn't help it, and to her immense relief, Neville started to chuckle, too. A moment later, he located his wand, too, none the worse for wear though covered in mud.
"Let me take you home," Susan soothed, reaching down for his arm and giving an encouraging tug. "You can clean up in my new bath and I'll make us some nice hot cocoa."
"Did you ever remember to buy marshmallows?" Neville asked warily, climbing to his feet.
"I did," Susan assured him. "I have a cupboardful."
"Well, then," Neville said, mollified, as he tucked Trevor into his pocket. "I guess that makes everything all right."
Susan smiled. Maybe it did, at that.
Author: lionille
Prompt: Susan & Mallowsweet: used in Divination
Format and word count: (one-shot) 1,950
Rating: G
Genre: Humor/Romance
Summary: Fluff. N/S
Susan straightened her hat and stepped off the busy alleyway into the cool sanctuary of the plant shop.
"Good morning, Neville, is my order in?"
"Just came off the wagon," Neville said cheerfully. He stepped out through the back door, leaving Susan to browse among the pots of fresh flowers. She was just rifling among the carnations when Neville returned, carrying a towering plant in a large black bucket, which he heaved onto the stone countertop. It swayed about, bobbing pink flowers in all directions.
Susan felt her temper flare. "I asked for a mallowsweet, not a marsh mallow!" she exclaimed in frustration.
"Um, no, I'm pretty sure you ordered a marsh mallow," he insisted, shuffling through a box of parchments by the register.
"Neville," she began briskly, "You're a wonderful human being, but you have a memory like a sieve. Now I specifically..."
"Here, look." He handed her a slip of stationery that looked very familiar.
With a certain quiet dread, Susan looked down to see the word marshmallow in her own elegant calligraphy. She felt her face go red. "Oh. My... I don't know what to..."
"It's all right, Susan. I'll send out for some mallowsweet."
"And what are you going to do with this thing?" she asked, looking up at the tall spindly plant.
"Make marshmallows?"
Susan laughed a little. "I'm so embarrassed," she admitted. "I must have been thinking of my shopping list when I wrote the order."
"If you don't mind my asking, Susan, why do you want the whole plant? You can get it dried for a couple of knuts a bag."
"Well, dried is all well and good for your average potion, but, well, you know, some things just have to be fresh. Very fresh. Sometimes." She fiddled anxiously with the paper, trying to think of some way to divert the conversation.
"Didn't mean to pry, Susan. Just thought I might be able to recommend a substitute." Neville ran his finger down the page of a large book on the counter. "We won't be able to get mallowsweet in til Tuesday, is that all right?"
"Tuesday?" she cried. She fumbled in her purse and pulled out her tatter-eared ephemeris, grasping the worn yellow silk bookmark and pressing the book open next to his. According to the tiny rows of numbers, her window of opportunity spanned from Saturday evening at six twelve through Monday morning at five fifteen A.M. "No, Tuesday is not all right!"
"Oh, well...."
"How could I have been so stupid? Mixing up my grocery list with my potions order!"
"Don't worry, Susan. We can go find one in the wild, if it's that important."
She looked up at him with sudden hope. "Really? You ... you wouldn't mind?"
"Not at all. Mallows like wet places, why don't we meet in Althaea's meadow tomorrow morning and try following the river for a bit."
"That would be wonderful, " Susan smiled. "See you at nine?"
*
Susan Apparated to the meadow at five to nine, to find Neville already there waiting for her.
"I brought sandwiches," Susan offered, holding up a small satchel. "I didn't know how long we'd be out here."
"Great. I brought bug repellent. And a shrunken shovel. Oh, and Trevor." Neville took a large toad out of his pocket and set him on the ground. "He hasn't had a field trip in ages."
Susan watched the brown amphibian begin springing through the high grass towards the river.
"How will you keep track of him?" Susan asked anxiously. She could only see him every few seconds when the apex of his jumps took him above the vegetation, and soon she couldn't see him at all.
"Oh, I expect he'll be missing by lunch," Neville said calmly, "but he'll turn up somehow. Always does."
Susan heard a heavy plop from the direction of the river. "Well, shall we get started, then?" she suggested.
Hunting for marsh-loving plants turned out not to be the easy amble Susan had been anticipating. The ground was tilted toward the water, knit tight with tree roots and strewn with sodden leaves. As the way became more and more difficult, she found herself understanding why so many wizards carried walking sticks.
"Careful, now, Susan, it can be slippery on these riverbanks because of the..."
Susan shrieked as a sensation not unlike ice-skating sent her careening towards the water, just as a pair of large hands grabbed her firmly by the arms.
"....algae," Neville finished.
Susan wrapped her own hands around Neville's forearms and carefully sought out firmer ground. "Thank you," she mumbled, blushing yet again as she detached from him.
*
At noon they rested under the shade of a tree and shared sandwiches and lemonade. With a little encouragement from Neville, Susan soon found herself chatting about the house she had recently bought. It needed lots of renovating, but her first project had been the bath. She'd mosaiced the entire room herself in a Tuscan theme, and had installed a new clawfoot tub. There was nothing Susan enjoyed more after a long day than a soak in homemade lavender bubble bath.
Susan suddenly flushed. Had she just said that out loud to the man she bought the lavender from every Monday? "I'm sorry, you must be tired of hearing about my Italian tiles," she went on in a rush.
"No, no, it all sounds... quite lovely." Neville had gone rather red himself, she noticed. He stood up. "Shall we press on?" he suggested.
*
By half one, they had found plenty of interesting plants, but no mallowsweet. Still, Susan was enjoying Neville's introductions and explanations of various species. She was something of an amateur gardener herself, and was more than happy to put seeds and cuttings of things he recommended into her pockets. They'd been traveling through a stand of cattails for a while, when Susan broke the silence.
"Neville?" she ventured. Something had been bothering her conscience, and she couldn't keep quiet about it any longer.
He took his eyes off the path long enough to glance over at her and arch an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry about yesterday. What I said? About your memory?"
"I don't remember you saying anything," Neville said.
For a moment, she thought he was serious, but then he gave her a lopsided smile, and she realized he was either teasing her, or being kind, or both, and she smiled back at him gratefully.
And slipped on another mat of leaves. She was certain she was going to end up in the river this time, but Neville grabbed her again. "Be careful, Susan!"
"Sorry, it's just so.... oh, no!"
In attempting to steady Susan, Neville went on his own slide down the embankment, Susan gasped in horror as he landed in the marsh with a splash. After a moment, he sat up from the shallow water, covered in strings of green. He began methodically pulling the stuff from his face as Susan waded in after, floundering around him in the mud.
"Are you all right? I'm so sorry!"
"M'fine, just ... lost my wand," he began groping around under the water.
"Oh, Neville, let's forget the mallowsweet and go home. It isn't worth it..."
"Not worth it?" he nearly shouted up at her. "It seemed pretty bloody urgent back at the shop!"
"Well, it was....it is....I mean, it sort of ..." she began to wring her hands.
"What? What do you need to Divinate that's so important?"
Susan supposed she owed him an explanation after all she'd put him through. "I found a spell that would help you determine who you would be compatible with. Romantically. You know, somebody you might overlook in the course of ordinary events, but that might secretly find you attractive..."
"Is THAT was this is all about?" Neville spluttered incredulously. "I thought that was what all those stupid quizzes in Witch Weekly were for!"
Tears filled Susan's eyes. "You wouldn't understand! Everybody expects a Gryffindor to stay footloose and fancy free, or a Ravenclaw to cleave to their career, but I'm the only person from Hufflepuff who hasn't married. I've been the witch of honor at eleven weddings. Eleven! What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing's wrong with you!" Neville held out his hands and waved them up and down at her. "Look at you, you're beautiful. I've always thought you were, even back in school!"
"You.. you did? But...."
"I mean, I know I never asked you out or anything, but that was because I never could seem to get anywhere with Hufflepuff girls. I gave up trying."
"But .... that's because we all thought you were ... you know..." she paused delicately.
Neville looked momentarily confused, but his expression shifted into aghast comprehension soon enough. "What? Why would you think a thing like that?"
"Well, there was a rumor going around, and you never seemed to go out with any girls..."
"Well, that's probably because there was a stupid rumor going around!" he bellowed.
"Oh, Neville, I'm sorry!" Susan clapped her hand over her mouth, caught between genuine sympathy and the sudden, desperate urge to laugh.
She lost the battle for composure when a particular brown toad chose this moment to return to his master, landing neatly on Neville's head. As Neville reached up for Trevor, Susan shook with laughter. She was afraid he was going to be even angrier with her,but she couldn't help it, and to her immense relief, Neville started to chuckle, too. A moment later, he located his wand, too, none the worse for wear though covered in mud.
"Let me take you home," Susan soothed, reaching down for his arm and giving an encouraging tug. "You can clean up in my new bath and I'll make us some nice hot cocoa."
"Did you ever remember to buy marshmallows?" Neville asked warily, climbing to his feet.
"I did," Susan assured him. "I have a cupboardful."
"Well, then," Neville said, mollified, as he tucked Trevor into his pocket. "I guess that makes everything all right."
Susan smiled. Maybe it did, at that.