Seeds of Romance? (Annabelle)

[Martin Bishop]

Saturday morning, Dec. 17, 2005

After their encounter in the library, Martin and Annabelle had approached Professor Fah and gotten her approval to proceed with their extracurricular project.

Greenhouse eight was special. It was partitioned into several zones, and through the clever use of charms and rune-stones, each zone maintained a distinct climate year-round. There was even a magical lighting system to provide a reasonable analogue to natural sunlight. Pipes distributed appropriate amounts of water at timed intervals (controlled by runes), simulating rain. The setup was a boon for growing magical plants not indigenous to Great Britain, particularly those that could be processed into ingredients for essential potions used either in the hospital wing or at St. Mungo's. Small apothecaries would likely have similar setups, but nowhere near as large or elaborate.

Martin was on his knees in front of a planter box in the zone most similar to the Tibetan climate, where the species urtica torpens pertinax was native. He was using a trowel to carefully mix fertilizer into the soil. In a moment, they'd be ready to plant seeds, spaced seven inches apart, so the plants' roots wouldn't get too entangled or compete for limited nutrients.

This species' nettles were valued because they contained a mild neurotoxin that could be used as an anesthetic, however each plant would only yield enough for a single dose. Martin and Annabelle hoped to cross-breed the plant to increase its yield (either in nettle size or number of nettles), and also to make it easier to grow in the British climate.

But first, they needed as many seeds to germinate as possible.

Beside Martin there were seed packets (owl-ordered), sacks of fertilizer and peat moss, and some basic gardening tools, including gloves which would be needed to handle the seeds, as they were spiky. He'd unintentionally tracked some snow in from outside, which was now melting.

"All right, I think the soil's ready," Martin said after much preparation. He was glad he'd worn his herbology apron to keep his trousers clean.

As he turned to look at Annabelle, a shaft of early-morning light from a window was illuminating the features of her face. He'd always been introverted, and had never been inclined to date anyone before, but in that moment he had to admit that she bore a certain natural attractiveness that, combined with her energetic personality, really appealed to him. He was aware of the upcoming dance, but had previously brushed it off. Now, though, he was forced to reconsider...

It was a quiet moment and they were alone. If he was going to ask, now seemed like a good time, as it was only a few days away.

"Are you planning to attend the dance?", he broached, trying not to get his hopes too high. Best to find out if she already had a date first...

[Annabelle Sinclair]

Having gotten permission to use the greenhouse and the runes to simulate the proper environment had felt like Christmas to Annabelle. She wouldn't have had the bravery to ask before, but doing it together with Martin had been easy. She had eagerly broken out her well-worn but cared-for gloves. Though they had their uniform, she'd worn jeans and a tee shirt for this, so she wasn't afraid of getting them dirty, much more of a getting-in-there kind of gal when it came to her plants. Her coat was nearby as she wasn't trying to actually catch a cold.

She was just about to start handling some of the seeds when he asked her, "Oh, um, I wasn't sure about it," she admitted, "I normally would go with friends or something, but I'm still kind of making those and I don't want to look silly going by myself, you know?" she fidgeted a little. She assumed he'd already made plans or something for it, so that was why she hadn't broached it herself, "Wh-what about you?" she asked, figuring since he brought it up, it was safe to ask, "Are you going?"

She picked up a trowel to start working on the spot she wanted to put one of the seeds, trying to remember how far down the book had said to plant them, trying not to sit idle while waiting for his answer.

[Martin Bishop]

"Oh?"

A spark of hope grew within Martin as he emptied a packet of seeds. He picked one of them up and poked it about four inches down in the soil with a gloved finger.

"I actually didn't have any prior plans to attend," Martin answered. "But it's mostly on account of not having a date. I suppose I've always had peculiar priorities; I've almost always got my nose in a book, and even my Ravenclaw dorm-mates tell me that I should loosen up and socialize more. Dating is something that I was never sure I was ready for, or at least, I hadn't found myself attracted to anyone in particular until very recently."

He shifted his posture, so instead of being crouched on the floor in front of the planter box, he was sitting on its wooden edge, and angled toward Annabelle.

He studied her face, and bit his lower lip as he tried to summon some courage that he rarely ever needed to draw upon. He wondered if it was normally this difficult to overcome the fear of rejection, or of possibly making things weird between them.

"To be honest, Annabelle, you're the person I'm most attracted to," Martin confessed. "So please don't think that this is a last-minute act of desperation on my part. I honestly don't know how you feel about me. But I find you not only really cute, but also smart, and you have this contagious geeky energy that I really find endearing. I know we haven't known each other for very long, but you're honestly the only one I know that I'd be interested in going with."

He looked down at his shoes and swallowed. "That has to be the most difficult thing I've ever had to say," he admitted.

He took a moment to overcome his sense of vulnerability, then looked back up at Annabelle. "With all that said, would you like to go to the ball with me?"

[Annabelle Sinclair]

As Martin sat, it drew Annabelle's eyes to him once more, in time to see him clearly working up to something, but she didn't like to make assumptions, so she'd wait for him to figure it out, her heart skipping a little beat considering how he'd ended his previous statement.

And then he spoke and confessed his thoughts and feelings to her, sending her cheeks into a furious blush. Now she was biting her own lips as her heart thundered, "I've... I've never had anyone say anything like that to me before... usually everyone follows up cute with annoying," she babbled, flustered then cleared her throat, realizing she was in fact babbling, "A-Ah, but I mean, I-I'm gl-glad you don't think so, I-I've really enjoyed working with you on this... looked forward to our meetings truly because... because you seemed to really get it, and not just in the smart kid wanting to prove a theory kind of way but in the truly curious and explorative kind of way that is honestly the most attractive thing to me not to mention you're actually attractive oh my god I am babbling again," she put her dirty gloved hands to her face as she felt even her ears were starting to burn.

Realizing she also just smeared everything on her face, she lowered her hands again and used her t-shirt to wipe her face off, bending forward so as to not flash too much midriff in the process, "Yes, I would very much like to go with you," she managed once she was satisfied though there was definitely dirt still smeared on her face, "I would hug you again but I'm clearly a mess," she laughed, still bright red in the face.

[Martin Bishop]

Martin couldn't help but grin as Annabelle verbalized her train of thought and then caught herself. A certain, unfamiliar sense of warmth flooded him as she expressed that she was attracted to him, too. It was the best feeling in the world. Then she smudged some dirt on her face, wiped it, and accepted his invitation. He smiled contentedly.

"You missed a speck," he said. He gestured to a spot on his cheek, but then realized it would be more gentlemanly for him to take care of it himself. "Let me get it for you?" He took off his right glove, reached into a pocket of his trousers, fished out a folded handkerchief, raised it to her face, and gently wiped her cheek. The corners of his lips curled up as he realized this was already the second time he'd wiped her face.

He was quiet for a moment, not knowing quite what to say. He was full of emotion, but had already gotten the bulk of it out. He folded his handkerchief and pocketed it once more.

"Don't worry, We'll have other chances to hug," he said. "Obviously, I'm new to all this, so I hope you can be patient with me? I'm a bit afraid I might do or say the wrong thing and hurt our friendship. But I will try to be a perfect gentleman and treat you properly."