RP: Aches

[poisoned_quill]

Who: Rita, anyone
When: Sept 9th, evening
Where: Garden
Rating: TBA
Summary: This manual labour stuff is hard work, and Rita thinks she deserves a drink.
Status: Complete

Comments

[nevilletherebel]

Neville fell onto the dew touches grass face down, burying his face into the heady scent of the short, mown lawn and breathing in deeply. He closed his eyes tightly, just revelling in the satisfaction of a day's work done, then rolled onto his back and looked up at the person he'd collapsed beside, sitting up quickly when he spotted who it was.

He had been more or less avoiding people recently. Watching them torturing his garden had been awful; and the clear up to his own satisfaction had been necessary. Everything was looking prim and tidy thanks to his interference, but he couldn't quite look anyone in the eye, in case any of them guessed that he had been responsible for squaring off tiles and resetting the turf where it had been pulled up haphazardly. He'd also planted the last of the flowers that the Ministry had given them, giving the garden a much more intimate and well done effect. The evening primrose in particular was one of Neville's favourites, the smell drifting in the cool air even now.

"Um..." he said, weakly. They hadn't talked since the veritaserum incident. He wanted to keep that out of the conversation. He fell silent again and looked away, biting his lip.