A Walk Through Hogsmeade

Spencer had been engrossed in a very good book. It was a simple tale, a muggle fairy tale. One he never really stopped reading, he planned on reading it on his death bed. Which knowing him, might not be too soon. He was always blowing himself up and all that. Damn potions, always blowing up on him. It wasn't his fault, they were just being stubborn. Not wanting him to succeed as he wanted. But whatever, he had his books and his cozy apartment. That was almost all he needed.

However thought seemed to drift in and out of his mind about his past. He didn't know why he just seemed to always think about the pain lately. But that's what reading was for, and what his potions were for. So long as he engrossed himself in his studies or whatever he'd be fine. Or so he would think, but things don't work that way do they?

A cat was sat on a low brick wall outside a house in Hogsmeade. It yawned widely and reached up with its paw to scratch its ear slightly. It mewed and yawned again and jumped down off of the wall. It strutted along the cobbled road and didn’t take any notice of the redhead that skipped by him, humming something odd under her breath as she did so. The cat continued on its journey towards a tall willow tree and settled itself on one of the high branches where it had every intention of going to sleep. It had ignored the redhead, not noticing the large pot in her arms or the bag she had thrown over her shoulder. Clearly the girl was up to something but that cat had been too tired to discover what she was up to.

Aimee was the redhead in question and was in fact on her way to Spencer’s house. After the spell at St. Mungo’s she thought she’d give him something that would bring him good luck. She had an assortment of things including the Bells of Ireland she had in the pot. She also had a few other plants and some odd little trinkets that would supposedly dispel any ‘dark’ spirits lurking around the house. She had a fair few of them dotted around her own home but the ivy on the staircase had mostly covered up the ones she’d pinned to the rail. Silly ivy.

Aimee came to a stop outside Spencer’s house and put her pot down on the mat, deciding that it was better for it to be out of her hands because it would probably end up getting smashed. Aimee knocked on the door and scooped the pot back up into her arms. It was heavy but nothing she couldn’t handle and it would be Spencer’s plant soon which meant that if he didn’t look after it then he’d be stapled to her staircase and left to endure the wrath of the ivy. Aimee breathed in the sweet smell of the Bells and grinned to herself, tapping her foot as she waited for Spencer to get his head out of a cauldron and come and get her. It wasn’t a particularly warm day after all.

Spencer was so engrossed in his fairy tale he didn't bother to get up. In fact he barely noticed the knock, "Come in!" he called to the voice. He waved his wand and opened the door, a little harder than he had aimed for but it was open and still on it's hinges. And low and behold ther was Aimee standing in his doorway. She was holding a plant, of course, and beaming. Surprised she hadn't dropped it yet he went back to his book. Not looking up he waved her in, "Come in come in! Don't freeze your toes off. It's not too warm out today!" he told her still subconstiously reading.

"Grab some hot chocolate if you like, I was just boiling some....milk..." he said looking up from his book shocked. He turned to look at his stove, and yes the milk was overboiling and making a mess. "Whoa!" he called falling off his couch. He quickly got up and brushed himself off, "I'm fine, I'm fine!" he told her. He then ran over to the stove and just stood there wondering what he should do. All the time acting as though a bomb was going to explode.

Once again he had gotten so involved in something stupid he had forgotten something else! Common in his little house, apartment whatever. It was cozy and it was his and that's all he really needed to be content. Well that and a good book or a cauldron and some ingredients. He looked at Aimee, he was making a fool of himself. But he always did, last time he had been blown into a wall. She always seemed to stop by at the wrong times, not the worst, but annoying or just bad.

The door opened abruptly and Aimee jumped, only just managing to keep the pot in her arms. She stepped inside and closed the door with her foot. She watched as Spencer rushed around as if he was being chased by a lion and she couldn’t help but smile. She moved further inside and put the plant down on the coffee table. She breathed in the smell of the Bells again and smiled to herself before straightening back up and looking over at her friend. The milk looked as if it was about to explode and taking Spencer back up to St. Mungo’s with burns wasn’t exactly something she wanted to do today.

“Spence are you sure you’re alright?” She put her bag down beside the coffee table and sat down on the couch. She took a small pot of white carnations from her bag and set them down on the coffee table next to the Bells. She tugged on her ear a little and watched as Spencer tried to deal with the milk issue. She stood up again and made her way over to the stove. She tripped over the leg of the coffee table in the process but managed to stop herself from falling over by catching hold of one of the armchairs. She righted herself quickly and stumbled over to the stove. She turned the dial and the flame died almost instantly, halting the milk explosion. “You only had to turn it off, silly.” She laughed. “Maybe I got here at the right time.”

Spencer blushed when Aimee simply turned the stove off by turning the dial. He looked at her, his cheeks red. "Thanks, Aims..." he said moving the pot over to the sink, burning himself in the process of course. He dropped the pot in the sink when he burned it with a loud clang! He shook his hand, it was only his finger but it still hurt. Even after all the burns he gets from potion experimenting. "Ah, god dammit! Stupid pot!" he groaned. He turned on the water to cold and rand his finger under it.

"You always come right on time," he told her chuckling. "I'd be dead by nowif you didn't show up at the right times." he chuckled nervously. He looked at the mess that was his stove, he knew better to let it cool before he did anything. He wasn't that stupid, he wasn't even that stupid. But he really wanted to get back to his story. "So uh, what brings you here Aims?" he asked her moving back to his couch.

Something was bound to go wrong. Aimee could never have a simple visit to Spencer’s and vice versa but in her case it was mostly because the plants liked him and the ivy prevented you from going anywhere in her house unless you knew how not to kill yourself in the process of getting to the kitchen from the bathroom upstairs. This was probably why Aimee Apparated all over her house, to mostly avoid her own plants and because it was safer that way. Who really wanted to be eaten by ivy? No one unless they had interesting methods of suicide.

Shaking her head, Aimee’s eyes focused again and she looked over to see Spencer moving back over the couch. Scratching her neck a little, Aimee looked at the mess that the kettle had made of the stove and shook her head again. She turned around and walked over to the couch, plopping herself down on it. “Luck oddly enough.” She grinned. “You need a lot of it too from what I can.” She pointed to the big pot, “They’re Bells of Ireland. Pretty, very green and they smell good then there are the white carnations and...” Aimee blushed. “Well normally they symbolise love but it’s mostly luck...” She tucked some of her hair behind her ear and rubbed her cheek to force some of the blood down but it only made it worse. “I would have gotten a clover but they’re really hard to find. I mean, I would have definitely given one to you if I found two but even if I had one I would have given it to you but I didn’t so I, uh, can’t but I did make some charms and trinkets. They don’t necessarily give good luck but they help dispel negative beings and such plus they’re pretty so...” Aimee trailed off and fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt, her blush deepening in colour.

"I'm not too supersticious when it comes to luck." he said still reading his book. But he figured he may as well look at the flowers. Common courtesy he supposed. He liked the bells they were quite nice. The carnations were lovely, but he didn't pay much attention to the love idea. And he didn't even noticed Aimee blushing at all. He was truly oblivious, "Aims, you're babbling again." he told her grinning and turning around. He tossed his book aside and picked up the carnations and put them on his window ledge. "I like these, and the bells are wonderful!" he said. "Thanks Aims," he said returning to the kitchen.

He gave her a hug and kissed her cheek. "I don't get many flowers, and whenever I do they don't normally last! That's why I have you, and I'm grateful for it!" he told her smiling. He let go of her and turned to his tove, he would tackle this mess. "Alright, why don't you take a seat and I'll clean this up!" He chuckled. "Then we could go for a walk if you like.." he told her.

Aimee wasn’t entirely sure if Spencer liked the plants but he seemed to and for that she was glad. She clamped her mouth shut when he called her out on her babbling and she smiled weakly. She watched as the carnations took pride of place on the window ledge while the Bells remained on the coffee table. They were fairly spectacular even if she did say so herself and was glad she cleared out some space to grow them. She was definitely glad that Spencer liked them because she knew he probably not only needed the luck but something to brighten up the house a little bit. Her home was probably bright enough for the both of them with the plant take-over but what was a house without flora and fauna?

The blush, which had managed to settle down returned with vengeance when Aimee was wrapped up into a hug. Well, it wasn’t the hug so much but the kiss. She didn’t understand herself sometimes and it was a probably a good thing. The Human body was a lot more difficult to understand than a plant’s. Plants for example, didn’t blush. Oh, to be a plant. But Spencer was oblivious, thank Merlin. He probably wouldn’t notice a troop of burlesque dancers in his own living room if it came down to it so it was highly unlikely that he noticed her blush or even understood the reason behind it. Aimee knew she could probably pass it off as being cold if he saw anyway.

“Yeah, that’s me; you’re resident plant freak supplying the world and his wife with foliage.” She scratched the back of her neck and tugged uncomfortably on her ear. She perked up a little at the promise of a walk but looked sheepish after a moment. “That would be great but I kind of forgot my jacket...” She explained, the blush returning once more. She sighed in irritation and pinched the skin of her wrist just below the tattoo of a Swallow.

He chuckled as he wetted a cloth to begin wiping up the spilled milk. "You're not a plant freak," he told her. "Remember when I tried to tell those guys off for calling you that?" he asked her. "I was sooooo close to making them pay. If only they hadn't have taken my wand..." he sighed. "But you know I'd do anything for you. Always have always will," he added finishing up his cleaning. He tried tossing the dirty rag in his hamper but missed. He looked at it and quickly picked it up and placed it in.

"You forgot your jacket eh? Well you could borrow one of mine if you like! I have way more than I should," he said disapearing into his room. He looked in his closet, he found a jacket for him and one that was a darker shade of purple for Aimee. He returned holding the two jackets, he handed her the purple one and put his own on. "You know, I always liked the swallow." he added not helping but smiling. "I was considering getting a tattoo myself," he said snickering.

"Could you see me doing that?" he asked, he really wasn't considering getting one. He just wanted to see her reaction. It was probably going to be lame but whatever. It was worth a go, everything's worth a go.

Well, that was semi-reassuring to know. Aimee wasn’t naive or stupid, she’d be a plant freak until she was six feet under and even then she’d probably be doing something with plants wherever she ended up. She was grateful for having Spencer as a friend even if that was all he was. She felt safe around him even if he was one big accident waiting to happen. She never felt obligated to help him when he blew himself into a wall or did something else potentially fatal. It was just instinct, maybe it was just the way their friendship worked or didn’t work. Aimee wasn’t sure. She liked plants for a reason – because deciphering human emotions, wants and needs wasn’t something she specialised in.

Once again Aimee was pulled out of her thoughts and noticed Spencer walking back into the room with two jackets in his hands. She took the purple one from him and smiled gratefully before pulling it on. It was big on her – huge even – but oddly warm and incredibly comfortable. It even smelt like him. Well duh, genius, it is his a more rational and intelligent part of Aimee’s mind reminded her. She glanced up at Spencer when he spoke again and quirked an eyebrow at him. Tattoo? He couldn’t be serious.

“Go for it,” Aimee replied, smirking slightly. “You could get a Swallow to match.” She grinned and stood up, wrapping the jacket around her a bit more. “Or you could get one of the tribal ones that my tattooist favours. If you get him talking long enough then he’ll give you loads of different options in the process. If you’re especially good at it then he’ll even sketch a few out. He did some for me. I had them framed a while back.”