Attracting The Unwary

Bertie's final lesson of the day, herbology, had reached it's conclusion. He tugged off his dragon hide gloves and stowed them away in his bag. The sound of stools scrapping the stone floor echoed around Greenhouse Four, silencing the light pitter-patter of raindrops dancing on the glass roof. Bertie headed towards the greenhouse door: rain. One of his most least favorite things. It was only a light shower but Bertie just knew as soon as he was halfway across the vegetable patch that it would turn into a drenching torrent. Not wanting to take the chance of being caught in Spring shower he stepped out of the exit allowing other students to pile out and hurry across the lawns, retreating to the warm castle.

Well this is a nuisance. Bertie thought to himself before heading back to the bench where he'd been harvesting puffapods. He wasn't the only one that had remained sheltered in the greenhouse, three or four other third year students were sat along the benches. Two of which were so engrossed in conversation they hadn't even noticed the lesson had ended and the Professor was making his way to one of the nearby greenhouses.

Giggling to himself Bertie reached into his bag, brushed specs of compost from the bench and placed a piece of parchment. Dipping his quill into the pot on ink resting on the bench he paused, inhaling the scent of the parchment. Lowering his nose to breath in a greater volume of the alluring aroma he realized that it wasn't his parchment that smelt so good: the Professor had left the door into the neighboring greenhouse open.

Curious as to what was emitting the nose tickling smell he wandered towards the door. He could now smell freshly moan grass and... the music room? Stumped as to what on earth what creating the scents he most loved he entered Greenhouse Five - dunking under an overhead umbrella plant as he did so.

We could dump her head in dung.

"Brill suggestion really Bren, but I doubt Henrietta Finch would ever come in vicinity of dung. Or let me or my wand or my hand come in vicinity of her head." Rika strolled through the grounds, she had a free period and was utilising it to the fullest: ergo, walking in the dew-soaked grass with bare feet and planning her revenge against her dorm-mate. "Besides, that plan would probably involve me touching her and..." Rika shuddered. No further explanation was required. Her aversion to physical touch wasn't exactly unknown to Brenda.

We could dump her head in Moaning Myrtle's toilet.

Even as Rika approached the Herbology greenhouses, she rolled her eyes. "And if a professor sees me? I have no wish of being turned into a toadstool." Of course that wasn't the preferred manner of punishment the professors chose to employ, but who could take a chance? Rika had a very living fear of being turned into a wide variety of animals, plants and fungi.

We could dump her head in a Venomous Tentacula

"What is with you and dumping heads?" Rika asked rather aggravatingly, but then paused. The Herbology idea was pretty good. If she could get her hand on a clipping of Devil's Snare........she shiftily glanced both ways (very obviously) to see if anyone was coming, then ducked into the nearby greenhouse. She started creeping to the front slowly, then stopped short. In front of her, was a boy. Who was....sniffing a plant.

(OOC: Omg I love your character already haha!)

Bertie had found the source of the scent. A flutterby bush was in bloom with bright yellow and orange flowers, their petals mimicking the wings of a butterfly. Although there was no breeze in the greenhouse the plant was swaying hypnotically.

'Parchment. Freshly moan lawn. Strawberries.' Bertie began to list the concoction of aromas the flowers were emitting. 'And... petrol?' He added rather confusedly, unaware that he'd spoken out loud.

The sound of footsteps, muffled by the pounding rain, across the greenhouse floor caught the Ravenclaw's attention. Slowly turning around, expecting to apologize to the Professor for trespassing he paused. It wasn't the aging plant-obsessed wizard facing him but a girl. A girl styling brown curly locks.

'Sorry, I was just umm...' Bertie began, but he was just doing he had no idea, his legs had carried him there as though he had no free will of his own. The flutterby bush's alluring aroma had overpowered the thirteen year old, even his ever-expanding imagination had paused.

The boy was muttering out loud. A wide concoction of words which made no sense. He ended it with petrol -ooh, he had Muggle ancestry- and Brenda chuckled inside her head. Oh, lookie. Another wacko. You may just have found your soulmate.

"Haha, very funny." Rika shot back in a deadpan, but took a step closer nonetheless. Then closer. Then closer.

"What....what is that......divine aroma...." Rika was reeling, under the onslaught of the sweetest and most tempting scents, in an odd mixture of aromas that should've frankly revolted her, but made her sigh in pleasure instead. "Fresh books, straight from the printing press..." Another step. "Hot chocolate flavoured with chilli..." Oh, her favourite Brazilian dessert delight. Another step, "The earth after rain....." A series of steps. "Mum's perfume."

Her eyes felt moist, for some reason. God, she hadn't hugged Mum in so long.......so long. Four years. Five maybe.

She was now standing beside the boy. She directed a dazed smile towards him, "Am I in paradise?"

Bertie linked rather confusedly at why Erika shot his apology down with a sarcastic 'very funny.' He certainly mean't it, well whenever he apologized to an older student he always mean't it, being the reserved, timid and shy person that he was Bertie wouldn't blow a confident trumpet around the sixth and seventh years - maybe the fifth and fours too. In fact, Bertie sometimes avoided the younger students, especially the Gryffindor's, they were rather cocky at times.

Bertie grinned at the brunette as she asked if the were in paradise. 'I think so!' He explained cheerfully. 'Those strawberries do smell splendid.' Bertie added, leaning his body lower towards the plant to sniff the scent of fruit and parchment once more. 'hmmm.'

Whatever this plant was doing to make him smell all the things he loved to smell the most he didn't know, he would certainly be researching about flutterby bushes when he got back to the castle. Perhaps I could create a story from this? Bertie thought in his head: Use each smell as a stimuli for a scene. I might do that after I read more about this gorgeous gift to Earth.

Instead of the 'shoo-wierdo' look she had been expecting, the boy enthusiastically affirmed that yes, perhaps it was paradise. A light smile fluttered on Rika's lips. Innocence, naivete. What rare, precious qualities in today's world.

The boy continued to say something about strawberries, and Rika's brow furrowed, "Strawberries? I don't smell any...." She stepped a bit closer, then paused, releasing a shaky breath. At this distance, all other fragrances seemed to fade out, leaving a light, elusive trace of lilac. Lilac and jasmine.

Brenda's voice was quiet, Relax. It's all right.

Damn, her vision had started blurring. Hurriedly, Rika brushed away the moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes. She almost couldn't recognise her own voice, it was so soft, so quiet and diminutive, "I'd almost forgotten what it smelt like." Almost as if of their own accord, her limbs folded and she sat down on the floor, gazing at the waving Flutterby, trying in vain to breathe in that familiar, and yet estranged scent. "What was its name again, Bren?"

Potpourri Jasmine

A soft, breathless chuckle. "Snazzy. Classic Mum, really."

Then she started, she had almost forgotten about the presence of the other boy. Generally, Rika tended to keep away from all the students....but there was a heavy emotion settling in her heart now: loneliness. Maybe, maybe she could make an exception, for once. She patted the spot next to her fleetingly, "Care to sit by me?"

Bertie continued to smell the plant, the scent of petrol reoccurring as the girl began to say she'd forgotten what it smelt like. 'Are you from a muggle family?' Bertie asked curiously. If she could smell petrol or had once smelt petrol before then she must have been in the Muggle world. The Ravenclaw raised his inquisitive eyebrows, the girl seemed to be in a place of her own, much like he usually was. I guess the smells are bringing back memories he thought watching her mutter under her breath.

As the girl patted the ground besides her Bertie took up the offer to sit down. If this was an older male he would have sat down in fright or made up an excuse to leave but with her it was different. Maybe because he got on better with girls? Never had awkward conversation, they just seemed to flow. Or perhaps it was because the girl was a rather interesting character.

'I'm Bertie.' He said with a smile, plucking one of the flowers from the flutterby bush and handing it to her. 'They smell nice don't they.'

"Erika Dixon." Then, after a faltering pause. "Call me Rika."

She plucked the bloom out of his hand, and filled her lungs with its scent. Lilac and jasmine. Nostalgia, sorrow, contentment......all swirled in her mind in a myriad of sensations. Rika ran a soft, probing finger over the petals, eyes scoping out every running vein, every shot of colour. "Looks like a sunset, doesn't it. A glorious orange-gold sunset overshadowing the sky in a burst of hues.....heralding the end of the day."

"Some people think sunsets are unhappy....because they mark the end of the day. A day that can never be lived again. A day lost forever." Rika exhaled shakily. Damn. Why this aroma. It woke too many memories, repressed for so long. "Sometimes, sometimes they forget that if there were no sunsets.....there would never be a sunrise."

Then she chuckled, albeit weakly, "Look at me, talking nonsense and boring you. My conversation skills are ill-honed, unfortunately."

Bertie smiled, 'Nice to meet you Rika, I'm Bertie. I Havent seen you around much?' He asked. Bertie knew she was a Ravenclaw although it was only recently that he had seen her in the common room, which was odd seeing as he was a third year and she an older student. 

As Erika began to talk about sunsets Bertie was simply stunned at how beautiful she carved her sentences. Like language the most brilliant authors used. Bertie couldn't help but simply sat in awe, mesmerised at how the words rolled off her Tongue. 

'Sunsets are splendid. A beautiful way to conclude the day and appreciate everything that's happened.' His eyes gazed up to the raindrops crashing on the glass roof. He'd seen some brilliant sunsets living in a seaside down. The stereotypical drawings of the sun, a semi-circle rising from the blue waves had been his reality. Words couldn't describe how beautiful a sunset was to Bertie. It reminded him of home. 

'I wonder how come we smell different things?' Bertie wondered, staring at Erika inquisitively. He knew that they blossomed once a century but was never aware their scents smelt different to each individual. 

"That's because I'm new. I'm here for a year only, my OWL's to be more specific, then back to the normal world." Rika stretched her legs, wiggling her bare toes lightly. She crossed her ankles and smiled, with faint traces of weary wistfulness. "This world is not for me. Never was."

Then she turned her head towards Bertie, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Bertie was staring at her with.........was that admiration? No, that couldn't possibly be true. People didn't stare at Erika Dixon because they were amazed by her. They stared at her like how a macaw is stared at in a zoo, because everyone wanted to see the 'loony kid'. A small flush worked up Rika's cheeks, and she turned back to gaze at the Flutterby. She was feeling.....pleased. This kid was doing a downright remarkable job of cheering her up.

"I guess we smell different things because......" Rika's eyebrows furrowed as she tried to recall every word she had ever read about Flutterby bushes. "Because we're different people. Different things please us, appeal to us, and the Flutterby seeks to give us that. The smells reflect our personal likes, and even our personalities in a way." Then she shrugged half-heartedly and consciously rubbed the tip of her nose. "At least, that's what I think."