The morning after their first Transfiguration class, Susan led Adrian, Hannah, and Justin out of the Hufflepuff common room and down the sloping path toward the castle grounds.
“Professor Sprout is our Head of House,” Susan warned him, glancing over her shoulder as the glass roofs of the greenhouses came into view.
“Petting a second professor during your first week of classes would be extremely difficult to explain.” “I have learned my lesson,” Adrian replied smoothly.
“From now on, I will always check for square markings around the eyes first.” Greenhouse One was not the picturesque, tidy conservatory Adrian remembered from the films.
It was a working classroom—a wall of thick, humid heat, smelling heavily of damp earth, rich fertiliser, and sharp, acidic sap.
The combined Gryffindor and Hufflepuff first-years quickly shed their heavy academic outer robes, hanging them on a row of wooden pegs near the entrance.
They stepped up to the long wooden workbenches wearing only their shirts, waistcoats, skirts or trousers, and thick protective aprons.
Professor Sprout stood near the central benches, looking entirely in her element.
She wore a practical, earth-toned blouse with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows, a heavy gardening apron, sturdy work trousers, and mud-marked boots.
She was broad-hipped and physically strong, carrying a warm, practical confidence that immediately commanded the room.
She introduced herself as their Herbology professor and the Hufflepuff Head of House, reminding her badgers that her door was always open for academic or residential problems.
“Now,” Sprout said, her voice easily cutting through the humid air.
“Plants are not textbook diagrams.
They respond to heat, to motion, to pressure, and to fear.
You must watch what the plant does, rather than simply remembering what the book says it should do.” Their task for the morning was to move a batch of young snapping vines into larger, better-drained pots.
The vines, Sprout explained, reacted aggressively to sudden movement.
They sought out warm objects to coil around, snapped at careless fingers, and would become highly dangerous if their roots were pulled roughly.
She demonstrated with her own plant.
A thick, green tendril immediately whipped out and wrapped tightly around her dragon-hide glove.
Instead of jerking her hand away or overpowering the plant, Sprout calmly and methodically unwound it, showing the class exactly how to handle the pressure.
The class divided into pairs to begin.
Adrian worked beside Susan.
Hannah paired with Justin, and Harry teamed up with Ron.
Hermione stood at the bench beside Neville Longbottom, initially trying to follow every single printed textbook instruction in perfect order.
“You’re moving too fast,” Neville warned her quietly, watching Hermione’s snapping vine twitch aggressively.
Hermione knew the technical Latin name of the plant, but she nearly got grabbed because her rapid, precise movements agitated the leaves.
Across the aisle, Ron was loudly complaining about the smell of the fertiliser.
Neville, however, looked completely at ease.
He watched his own vine swaying and correctly recognised that it was reacting to the heat trapped tightly around its compacted roots.
Instead of pulling the stem, Neville gently used a wooden trowel to loosen the outer soil first.
The vine immediately relaxed its posture.
Professor Sprout stopped beside their bench.
“Excellent observation, Mr Longbottom!
Everyone, watch how he relieved the pressure at the base.” Once Sprout asked the class to watch Neville’s method, Harry copied the way he supported the pot and managed to transfer his own vine without losing a finger.
Ron handled the soil while continuing to complain about its smell.
While Sprout was leaning over to help Harry and Ron with a particularly stubborn root system, one of the larger vines on the centre table suddenly lashed out.
The tendril hooked smoothly through the rear ties of Sprout’s heavy gardening apron.
A second tendril whipped across the front, smearing a thick line of irritating green sap across the heavy canvas.
Sprout stopped moving.
She couldn’t remove it herself; both of her dragon-hide gloves were already covered in caustic sap, one hand was firmly holding the plant’s main stem, and releasing the grip would allow the heavy vine to strike Harry directly in the chest.
A pink screen materialised in the humid air.
[PERVERTED MISSION] [Get Professor Sprout out of her gardening apron.] [Bonus: Make her ask for your hands.] [Reward: Herbology Handling Fragment ×2, Herbology Sense Fragment ×2 and 25 PP.] [Failure Penalty: For seven days, every compliment from Professor Sprout will give you an obvious erection.] Adrian waited until Sprout had the main stem under control before moving around the bench.
“Professor, the vine has tightened the knot.” Sprout attempted to shift her shoulders to loosen the apron herself, but the movement only caused the tendril to pull the cord tighter around her waist.
Sighing in frustration, she turned her back partially toward Adrian, keeping her sap-covered gloves strictly away from her clothes.
“Mr Clarke,” Sprout said briskly.
“Put those hands to some useful work and undo this knot.” Adrian stepped directly behind her.
The knot sat tightly at the small of her back.
He worked his fingers beneath the cord, keeping them away from the sap smeared across the canvas.
As he manipulated the knot, his knuckles brushed against the warm, damp fabric of her blouse over her lower back.
The first loop had been dragged deep into the knot.
Adrian held the cord away from Sprout’s back with one hand and worked the trapped end free with the other.
The knot finally loosened, and the weight of the sap-covered apron pulled it open.
Sprout stepped clear of the apron without loosening her grip on the vine.
Adrian caught the apron before it could fall into the soil and draped it over an empty bench.
Without the heavy apron compressing her clothes, Sprout’s thin blouse clung much more closely to her back and waist in the greenhouse heat.
Adrian’s gaze lingered on the curve of her hips for just a fraction of a second too long.
Susan noticed immediately.
Sprout noticed as well.
She glanced over her shoulder and found Adrian still looking.
“The plant is lower, Mr Clarke.” Adrian returned his attention to the vine without offering an excuse.
Adrian nodded, offering no excuses, and returned to his bench.
Adrian and Susan returned to their own snapping vine.
Susan gripped the main stem firmly with her dragon-hide gloves while Adrian carefully cut away the damaged drainage mesh wrapped around the base.
Neville leaned over from his station, pointing out exactly which roots were safest to separate.
Suddenly, the plant reacted to the ambient heat of Susan’s body.
A thin tendril snapped away from the pot and caught the back of Susan’s thigh.
Before she could shift her footing, it coiled once around her leg and slipped beneath the hem of her skirt.
The tendril tightened high against the inside of her thigh, only a few inches below the edge of her panties.
Susan gasped and tightened both hands around the main stem.
If she released it, the snapping head would swing directly toward Hannah at the next bench.
Adrian dropped his shears and immediately dropped to one knee beside her.
He reached beneath the hem of her skirt and followed the vine from the back of her thigh toward the inside of her leg.
He pinned the squirming vine against her leg with his thumb.
Carefully, he used two fingers to unwind the tendril.
As he worked it loose, his knuckles brushed directly against the lower silk edge of her panties.
Susan released a shaky breath but kept both hands locked around the stem.
Once Adrian successfully loosened the vine, he began to slowly withdraw his hand.
“Keep it there,” Susan told him quietly, not looking down.
“Until the root ball is inside the new pot.
It might tighten again.” Adrian did not argue.
His palm remained pressed against the warm skin of her inner thigh.
Neville guided the roots, Susan controlled the heavy stem, and Adrian supported the heavy clay pot with his free hand.
Professor Sprout crouched beside their bench to inspect the root placement.
She immediately saw Adrian’s arm buried beneath Susan’s skirt.
Professor Sprout crouched beside their bench and examined the root placement.
Her gaze travelled from the vine pinned against Susan’s thigh to Adrian’s arm beneath the skirt.
“The roots, Mr Clarke, are supposed to be inside the pot.” “The dangerous part spread beyond the assigned area, Professor,” Adrian replied, his voice perfectly level.
Susan nearly laughed.
Her shoulders shook, and her grip slipped slightly.
“Could both of you concentrate until it stops trying to bite us?” Neville asked, holding the root ball steady.
Once the plant settled, Susan reached beneath her skirt and caught Adrian’s wrist.
She started to pull his hand away, paused with his palm still pressed against her inner thigh, then released him one second later and smoothed down her skirt.
Adrian returned to packing soil without commenting.
By the end of the lesson, Professor Sprout awarded Hufflepuff points for their group result.
Neville was praised for recognising the root pressure, Susan for maintaining physical control of a dangerous stem, Adrian for removing the mesh without cutting the roots, and Hannah and Justin for keeping the replacement soil ready.
As they washed their hands at the sinks, Sprout looked over at Adrian.
“Restraint is often more useful than speed around dangerous plants, Mr Clarke.” Her eyes moved briefly toward Susan before she returned to cleaning her gloves.
[MISSION COMPLETE] [Bonus condition fulfilled.] [Herbology Handling Fragment ×2] [Herbology Sense Fragment ×2] [25 PP] [PP Balance: 320] Outside the greenhouse, the cool breeze coming off the lake was a massive relief after the stifling humidity.
Susan reached over and casually wiped a remaining smear of green soil from Adrian’s sleeve.
She looked toward the castle, her expression sobering.
“Potions is next.
Professor Snape will be significantly less forgiving if you put the wrong hand in the wrong place.” Adrian looked down at the dark stone arches leading toward the dungeon entrance.
“Then I will make sure,” Adrian said, “that it is the correct hand.”