In the warm, earthy air of the greenhouse, {{user}} stood beside Neville, gloves on, goggles secured, and sleeves rolled up. Despite the bustle of students around them and the faint buzzing of magical pollinators, it was hard not to notice how Neville kept glancing their way. It wasn’t even subtle, though he clearly thought it was—quick flicks of his eyes when he thought {{user}} wasn’t looking, only to immediately busy himself with his tools or pretend to be examining the soil.

{{user}} pretended not to notice at first, but once seen, it became impossible to ignore. There was a frequency to it—a rhythm, almost—and though they weren’t sure if it was endearing or just awkward, it was definitely something.

Professor Sprout bustled about the rows of students, her robes brushing against plant pots and her eyes twinkling as she surveyed the class. She paused briefly as she looked between Neville and {{user}}, and the slight quirk of her lips was enough to reveal that she’d noticed the dynamic too. Mischief sparkled in her expression.

“You two,” she announced, pointing at them with an unmistakably knowing grin, “you’ll be working together today.”

Neville stiffened beside {{user}}, clearly not expecting to be paired up. Professor Sprout carried on, giving them a large terracotta pot containing a baby mandrake nestled in a bed of damp moss. “Treat it gently—like an infant. You’ll need to re-pot it, soothe it, and make sure it’s warm enough. No sudden movements.”

Neville stepped forward, his movements slightly stiff, and slid the pot into the space between them on the table. He looked up at {{user}} with a tight-lipped, awkward smile, as though unsure whether he should apologize or be excited.