Greenhouse Three [open]

[Owen Fairchild]

Late Afternoon - Saturday

Owen wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, smearing a streak of dirt across his temple without noticing. The air in Greenhouse Three was thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming dittany, the warm glow of afternoon light filtering through the enchanted glass panels. Somewhere near the back, a Venomous Tentacula rustled in its pot, sensing movement, but Owen paid it no mind—his attention was fixed on the delicate roots of a newly potted Moondew plant.

He crouched low, carefully loosening the soil around the fragile stems. The plant shivered under his touch, responding to the gentle pulse of his magic as he coaxed it into its new home. “There you go,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

A soft breeze stirred the greenhouse as he straightened up, brushing the dirt from his hands onto his robes, though it made little difference. His sleeves were already smudged with soil, and his fingertips bore faint green stains from the sap of a particularly stubborn Snargaluff pod he’d wrestled open earlier. He’d lost track of time again—hardly a surprise. It was easy to get lost in the quiet rhythm of the greenhouses, where plants never asked anything of him but patience and care.

The door creaked open, and Owen turned, blinking against the shift in light. Someone had stepped inside—another student, maybe a curious first-year or a friend looking for him. He offered a small, easy smile, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. “Careful where you step,” he said lightly. “Some of these plants have a mind of their own.”

[Astrid Osborne]

Astrid carefully ducked to avoid the head jamb of the doorframe (she stood 7'3“, most doors in England are 6'6” high) as she pushed an empty wheelbarrow into the greenhouse. The wheelbarrow's handles had been modified to make them long enough for her to push it comfortably. She was wearing tan coveralls (sporting a few patches) and a white blouse, along with comfortable leather clogs exposing her bare heels. A flower had been tucked over one ear.

“Oh,” she said upon hearing a voice and realizing she wasn't alone. A fellow Hufflepuff, though not one she knew well. “I wasn't expecting to find anyone here.” She smirked as she glanced toward some of the plants surrounding them. “Aye, these plants have felt me up more than once,” she admitted. “Some of them have a touchy-feely personality.”

“I was just returning this, I borrowed it to cart food to the beasties in the paddocks.” She parked the wheelbarrow beneath a large workbench and stepped closer to Owen. “What have you got there, if you don't mind me askin'?”

[Owen Fairchild]

Owen’s eyes widened the moment the doorframe seemed to shrink around Astrid as she stepped through it. For a split second, he just stared - equal parts startled and impressed - before catching himself and letting out a soft, breathy laugh.

“Blimey… you make this place look like a dollhouse,” he said, not unkindly, brushing a bit of dirt off his sleeve as he shifted to give her more space. His gaze flicked briefly to the wheelbarrow, then back to her, curiosity settling in easily.

At her comment about the plants, his smile grew, a quiet warmth behind it. “They do that,” he agreed. “Snargaluffs are the worst for it. Bit too enthusiastic, if you ask me.” His tone was light, but there was a fondness there, the kind reserved for things that caused trouble but were loved anyway.

When she stepped closer, his attention returned to the plant in front of him. He crouched slightly again, gesturing toward it with careful hands.

“Moondew,” he said. “Still young. The roots are a bit sensitive, so it needs a gentler touch than most.” His fingers hovered just above the soil, as if reluctant to disturb it again. “It reacts to magic more than pressure, so if you rush it…” He tilted his head, giving a small shrug. “Well. It sulks. Stops growing properly.”

He glanced back up at her, a small, slightly sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve been trying to get this one settled for the past hour. Lost track of time a bit.” A pause, then, a hint of curiosity slipping through. “You said paddocks - what sort of beasties are you looking after?”

[Astrid Osborne]

“Aye, I do seem to have that effect,” Astrid agreed with a smirk. “That's a bit out of my control.”

She regarded one of the touchy-feely plants. “Well, if you think about life from the plants' perspective, they're kindof like puppies. Eager to play with anything that moves. They're attention-starved, or at least they think they are. Maybe they get bored stuck in here with nobody for company? If I were a lonely plant, I'd probably feel you up, too.” She laughed. “That didn't sound quite how I intended, but I think you get my meaning.”

She then stepped toward Owen to get a closer look at the moondew. “That sounds pretty sad, really. Mind you, I could probably handle it with less risk than anyone else, since my magic's abnormally weak.”

“Oh, mostly I tend to the unicorns, hippogriffs, and thestrals,” she answered. “The unicorns come right up to me. I can't see the thestrals, but one of the little colts is really affectionate, I've named him Hamish. And I'm in good standing with the hippogriffs too, so...who better to feed them all?”