#herbology

[die-rosastrasse]

Some medicinal (and poisonous) plants I photographed lately 💜🌿

Dictamnus Albus / Symphytum Officinale

Aconitum Moldavicum / Digitalis Purpurea

[cl0ckworkpuppet]

fun new game!

https://species.wikimedia.org/wiki/Special:Random

go to a random page on WikiSpecies (link above). look up the scientific name. what did you get?

a species i actually recognize

microscopic Thing

weird fucking bug

plant

animal that is bigger than a bug

fungus

name of a person

i cannot find any information on the thing i got

other / not listed here

Voting ended onFeb 9

[daughter-of-fae-and-doe]

[ambitiouspotions]

PETAL AND KEEPER | NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM

summary — you are between a woman and a plant which sprouted from what was once a sapling. neville has taken on the responsibility of caring for you and tonight he has to prune your leaves and tidy your hair.

word count — 4.1k

warnings — 18+ MDNI, smut (oral f receiving, unprotected pinv sex, power imbalance, humanoid creature x human), paring (caretakerneville x magicalsproutedplantreader), neville is in his late thirties, wholesome but horny, established relationship

author’s note — anyways…yep, thanks for waiting so long for me to get my shit together

taglist: @imhersworld , @probablybleedscoffee

you started in the tiniest clay pot on neville's store counter, though that didn't last long because the pot cracked and you were moved to a new location—a slightly bigger pot on his kitchen counter. no, that was no good either because the more neville tended to you the larger you got. oh, and neville tended to you greatly—so greatly in fact that the more he doted on you the quicker you grew.

eventually, you couldn't be contained. you were taken out of the large terracotta pot that sat on the porch and were uprooted. he placed you in a clearing just near the greenhouse next to his home so he could watch you flourish even more.

he would return from his day at longbottom’s second soil, his bustling shop for all things magical plants and related items, and immediately sit under your branches. he would talk for hours, and he didn't know why he did, but he would. nonsense was the majority of his talk, but when he was sitting upon your roots, it was comforting.

one day, you sprouted from the tree, dropping onto the soft, pillowy grass like you were meant to be there. confusing at first—a little disorienting if anything—but once neville found you it was meant to be.

even upon taking a human form, you were still neville’s favorite thing that he had ever grown. beautiful and full of life, no longer a something, but a someone. you were attached to him even when your roots were in the ground because you knew he cared for you. your consciousness had not only developed but your full body that was now dedicated to giving neville longbottom a true test of his skills—patience, kindness, and empathy.

tonight was cold, the trees around the field shuddered while you picked at chickweed on the ground to munch upon. you were ignoring neville’s call to gather your shawl from the enclosed porch for long enough, because when he finally said it was time to come inside you were dragging your feet and huffing.

winter was among the list of things you despised—not hated—neville never let you say hate. with the snow flurries whipping outside and your refusal to put on an extra layer of those dreaded clothes, neville made you come inside for the evening. spring and summer were different; you were able to run freely until the night settled in without socks or a knitted jumper. winter and autumn were the seasons that brought more backtalk and more complaints.

he ran a warm bath, stripping off your dirty socks and untying your stained crocheted slip dress much to your dismay. although the warm water was a refreshing break from the cold, you were longing to go back outside despite the unfortunate weather. even having to wear clothes was better than being forced to stay indoors. although both options should’ve been considered forms of torture to a magically sprouted plant.

the heated washroom was fogging the icy windows. the wall radiator was cranked on high to entice you to relax, and it worked; neville knew the tricks of the trade. plants were not all the same, and neville took great pride in ensuring the comfort of all of them—especially you, petal.

undressing and washing up were the easy parts. you had no shame in your natural skin or any embarrassment to nakedness. it was nothing out of the ordinary, and neville did as any caretaker would—let you be as long as you weren’t unhappy or in any danger. a bare naked sprout through the spring and summer became normal. some battles weren’t meant to be fought, but on a particularly cold day like today, neville had to put his foot down.

his steady hands worked across your green-tinted body with a soapy rag. you were sitting crisscrossed in the bath water letting him wash your upper half before your lower. neville never let you do it yourself anymore because the last time he left you alone in the bathtub he had to replace the floors from the miniature flood you managed to create.

“lay back, petal,” he instructed, and so you did.

you shrugged your shoulders downwards to immerse yourself more in the warm water, cupping the water from your hands and letting it flow onto your exposed chest. you wiggled your toes to try and cover them more. the warmth was just too appealing after your stint in the cold. keeper tended to be right, although on some days you couldn't help but test his every last nerve to try and succeed in getting what you wanted.

even after seeing you naked it never seemed to be taken for granted. neville was appreciative of your locally grown body.

the moment you seemed to be comfortably situated, neville was digging out a caddy from under the bathroom sink. a caddy full of things that you would have to sit still for.

“no, keeper, no,” you protested with a groan, immediately looking at the overgrown leaves sprouting from your arm. you had barely paid attention to the overgrowth until you had seen that dreaded tool holder.

“petal, you've got to keep tidy,” he insisted, rifling through his items to get organized. you were already trying to pluck the leaves yourself. the shriveled leaves crumpled to the washroom’s ground and a few flecks floated in the clear bathwater. “that means a bath and pruning.”

“but i don't want you to do it,” you mumbled before using your teeth to remove a leaf that wouldn't come loose. “i can do it easier.”

neville turned his head, giving a look that already said enough. this was not his first trip around the sun in regards to you incorrectly pruning yourself.

“petal, you can't tear at them,” he reminded you, inching his stool a bit closer to the worn clawfoot bathtub.

“those ones were done,” you began inspecting your other arm for the aged leaves, about to pull another when he gently shooed your hand away. you stopped, flicking the final piece of browning foliage that was stuck to your palm over the side of the tub.

he rolled up his flannel sleeves that were damp at the edges from washing you then fished into the water to grab the arm you haphazardly plucked. “i decide when they are done.”

his eyes steadily raked over your arm, feeling for unevenness your unorganized plucking had caused. his shears were resting in his lap unless he felt any discrepancies.

“takes too long, keeper,” you complained as he snipped a leaf. he paid no attention to your whinging, only grabbing your other arm to snip. he had heard it all before, in fact, it was each time he clipped your dying growth that he heard your protests and mostly ignored them. he knew he wasn't causing you any pain—more frustration than anything.

one by one neville collected your old leaves in a neat pile, unlike the ones you had strewn about on the tile floor.

“you never liked to sit still,” neville teased as he lifted one of your legs to rest on the ledge of the porcelain tub. his hands roamed your leg just as they did with your upper extremities, snipping only the slightest bit of tangled vine on your thighs and calves.

“i like to run,” you huffed, jumping slightly as he steadied your left foot to inspect your chipped nail lacquer and the dirt shoved under your nails.

“well, petal, i can see that,” neville laughed again, scrubbing your ticklish feet until the dirt released from the nail enclosure. “i suppose i should comb your hair—”

“absolutely not!” you tugged your legs back into the fragrant water, immediately trying to paw through your hair yourself. on neville’s account, this action was hilarious, seeing as your fingers immediately would not run through your curls smoothly. “i’ll keep it natural, see, you love my curls!” you protested, swatting at his hand when he went to release your fingers from your dense coils.

“certainly not, especially when you don't care for it,” neville lifted your chin so your eyes would meet him. little flecks of pollen were present in your eyes as the light caught them.

“i do,” you lied, gently tugging the end of your curls to see how long they would extend.

“oh, sure, like when you got into the cabbage patch and had a chinese chomping cabbage—” neville was already raking through your pillowy, damp hair with a handful of leave-in conditioner mixed with water.

“no, that was your fault,” you huffed, taking away the section he was working with. “you singed my hair with your wand.”

keeper would never manage to live that moment down, although it was fair game. he saw a hungry petal about to eat an even hungrier chomping cabbage and sprang into action. it just so happened that a small piece of her hair was a casualty in the battle of the dangerous garden.

“next time i’ll let the cabbage have petal for dinner,” neville shrugged, tilting your head back to see the crooked part of your head. his hands were gently bunching the curls, knowing he’d soon hear you complain more the moment he started parting and plaiting them.

neville had a grin on his face as he rinsed his hands in your bath water to rid the slick conditioner from his hands. “up,” he motioned as he moved his stool away from the tub to leave more space for you. his sitting spot was soon taken over by the plush towel he had laid out for you.

“you wouldn’t dare,” you tensed, rising from the tub ever so skeptically, your hands gripping his sturdy forearms as he guided you.

“i would, especially if you keep up with your whinging.” neville could never mean that—never in his heart of hearts would he trade his petal.

wrapped in the cotton bath towel you sat criss-crossed on the bed, neville was parting your hair down the middle with the back of the comb.

it took a bit of coaxing, but of course, in the end, he won. he may have played the negotiation card which meant you'd be having a sweet while he braided your hair, but that was worth not having to hear any more complaints, or so he hoped.

your had your head leaned back, letting him untangle the damp mass of hair you had sprouting from your head. a honey and vanilla lolly was hanging from your lips to keep you quiet. it was your favorite little treat, and just enough to stuff in your mouth to occupy you.

neville had braided floral wire, rope, and the very vines of the giant pumpkins that became unruly, but your hair was its own challenge entirely. the challenge did not come from how hard it was to plait, detangle, or wash, but because of the opinionated sprout who had said hair attached to their head.

in the spring and summer your coils not only become tangled, but the factor of flowering buds made them even more gentle. in the autumn and winter, your hair was more sensitive and brittle, requiring extra moisture to lay the foundation of the buds that would sprout in the warm months. as keeper always said, you were a fickle little petal.

you pulled the sweet from your mouth inspecting the round sugar treat that had a bright sheen from your saliva.

neville began at the crown of your head, splitting a section into three parts. he was going to do his signature french plaits down each half of your head.

“how’s your lolly?” neville asked softly, lacing his fingers into your detangled curls and beginning his plait.

“mm,” you hummed, almost dazed as his gentle but seasoned hands worked on your head. “good.”

“worth letting me fix your hair?”

you shrugged, stubborn as ever, not wanting to admit it wasn't as bad as you had made it out to be. however, it seemed to work in your favor. your tongue rolled over the sweet as your fingers fiddled with the white paper stick.

“mm,” you thought again, just momentarily. “no.”

“bloody hell, petal,” neville chuckled, tying the end of one braid. “maybe if you keep sitting still i’ll give you something else.”

the moment his hands released the elastic band on the end of the plait you turned your head to look at him. your curious self couldn't help but wonder what it might be, with big begging eyes fixated on your keeper you knew he could barely resist—

“nope,” neville disagreed immediately, turning those sweet little eyes away from himself. “you'll just have to be patient while i finish this plait.”

“a hint?” you petitioned, letting your eyes fall back to your lap. your lolly was tucked into the inner of your cheek as you spoke.

“i think you’ll like it.” neville was purposely being vague to keep your mind occupied.

“more sweets—ouch,” you flinched as his knuckle became entangled in your curls. his repetitive over and under motion halted, to inspect the snag of your hair. a quick detangle and it was like nothing happened.

neville leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on the back of your head. his hands were holding his position on the strands of hair. his unspoken apology was enough to settle your upset grumble even with sugar flooding your senses.

“and no, no more lollies, petal. it’s something else.” neville was finishing the last stretch of the plait, making sure each side was even. with the second elastic in his hand, he tied the second side.

“then what is it?” you asked, letting the towel fall from around your body so you could face neville. his hand caressed one side of your face, a faint smirk lighting his face as your bare body made itself comfortable in his lap. he pulled your braids to the front across your shoulders.

his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, making the sucker stick in your mouth twitch.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, wiggling the lolly stick.

you rolled your eyes, removing the half-eaten sweet from your mouth and placing it on the wax wrapper neville had discarded on the nightstand.

“well, yes,” you murmured, letting your hands dip into his waffle top shirt underneath his open flannel. warmth was radiating off of his body—in his lap and against his chest was always the safest place to be.

neville stubbly face brushed against your cheek as he got closer to your ear. his hand was brushing down the flyaways on the opposite side of your face, whispering, “you think you could sit for just a bit longer?”

your brows furrowed, plucking at the back of his shirt unhappily. “no, keeper—”

“mm, not even if i pulled you on top of my face?”

yes, you could certainly sit for that, especially because keeper never expected you to sit still for that.

a soft gasp left your mouth, pulling away from his whispering to look him in his eyes. his crow’s feet around his eyes wrinkled with mischief.

neville’s hands wandered to your hips, dragging them slowly and intentionally down from your face to meet that sweet spot he loved to hold. he leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss. the remnants of honey and vanilla sat upon your lips and only brought neville in closer, not like he could ever get enough of you anyway.

his thumbs rubbed into your hips, appreciating the plushness of the chub that sat atop your bones. you were a sproutling that had been very well tended. he began to lean back on the bed, one hand guiding you down with him as he deepened the kiss.

your palms splayed against his chest, anchoring yourself in your seat more not to slip while you bracketed him with your legs. his weight combined with yours sank the mattress with a creak from the old bedspring coils. his bottom lip brushed against yours as he pulled away from the kiss.

“go on then, get where you need to be.”

you straddled his face, always knowing what to expect, but no matter what you were wet with anticipation while seated above him. the crooked edge of his nose slid against the most inner part of your thigh as he breathed in your earthy scent. his lips dragged teasingly against the outermost folds of your cunt.

“bloomin’ gorgeous, petal,” he praised before extending his tongue and tasting your nectar in one long, slow stripe up your center. you shuddered, one hand pawing at his hair and the other steadying yourself against the metal bedpost.

cliche to say the least, opening your blooming flower with his tongue and tasting the syrupy sweetness you produced, but dear merlin, it never became repetitive—not even in the slightest.

his mouth enveloped your pussy, open and hungry as you were displayed above him. he had to keep you seated as you rocked against his tongue. his working arms respectively took each thigh to grasp.

he was avoiding your clit purposely, liking how whiny you got the closer in proximity he edged to it. one flick caused you to bear down, causing the bridge of his nose to nudge against your bud more.

his sunday slacks were tight in the crotch. his belt was bulging from the tension in his pants. it was too much to be contained, but it would have to wait until he finished unveiling his surprise to you—working for your climax.

you were so undeniably aroused by him. his touch was one of his best qualities, knowing just how to satisfy you. he was the right commander of your aching body.

neville pulled apart your asscheeks, trying to take a larger breath before finding your pussy again. he panted against your inner thigh briefly before using his leverage on your bottom to bring you back again.

he was tonguing at your clit while letting the wetness that pooled at your entrance drip onto his chin. this was a treat for him just as much as it was for you. along with your moans came neville's each time you would clench and unclench your fist in his hair.

“keeper,” you murmured breathlessly as your eyelids fluttered shut.

his fingers were assisting his tongue in spreading your folds apart; he could work his mouth more easily through your cunt. he widened his mouth to taste more of you. his bottom lip dragged against your sopping core.

repeatedly going between sucking your clit and flattening his tongue to lap against it you only got closer to the feeling of ecstasy. your toes curled and tingled as your pelvis tightened.

the grip on his locks tightened in your hand. your center so fixed, and yet so wobbly as you unraveled on top of him. your mouth was parted and your eyes were completely closed as your orgasm surged through you. neville was settling you, nudging your sweaty forehead to your inner thigh and gently kissing it.

your stomach heaved, thighs shaking as he panted softly from being smothered in your core. he pushed you back gently, letting you move to his chest. his jaw ached but it was so worth it to let that glassy sheen take over your eyes and your pussy to be so open and ready for his hardened cock.

his next order of business was laying you on your side while wiping his mouth against the inner part of his bicep. he shrugged off his flannel and pulled over his shirt, clearing his throat as a verbal warning as he unclasped his belt.

you were ready; you were interested anytime he dropped his trousers. you caressed his small patch of stomach hair and helped him tug down his briefs. your eyes gave the same look of interest from the first time neville had helped himself out of his slacks.

with one hand wrapped around his cock you supported his balls, leaning on one of your elbows to pay more attention to his erection than anything. still needy, still desperate—that was his good petal.

you were chewing your bottom lip as he parted your legs, hoisting one over his shoulder and edging his reddened tip at your entrance. he toyed with you just for a tick, watching you uncomfortably shift on the bed when he didn’t enter right away.

slow and steady—that was keeper’s way of making sure his throbbing member would slip inside of you easily. while gathering your wetness he inched inside, sliding one hand up your chest as he did so. he caressed the curve of your breast as his thumb grazed your hardened nipple.

he was filling the gap between your legs so purposely and effortlessly; his cock proudly being buried inside of you. he leaned down to shush in your ear softly while still cupping the side of your breast. his other hand was flat against your cheek and the edge of your hairline.

his huffed a bit, feeling his shaft twitch in your pulsing walls. he panted softly into your pointed ear. your arms brought him close, digging your stubby nails into his back.

“oh, petal, that's a good girl,” keeper sighed, kissing your earlobe.

his hips got into a steady thrusting rhythm as you moaned under him.

“that’s my petal,” he praised in between kissing the column of your neck.

you were one orgasm in and working towards another. neville made sure you would be well taken care of the thought of neglecting you hadn't even remotely ever crossed his mind because you were in such a perfect state of not wanting to be helped but needing to be helped.

“all yours, keeper,” you whined, rutting your hips upward as his humps became a bit longer and more exaggerated. your face buried against his taking in a whiff of his woodsy cologne.

your walls gripped him, unwilling to let him do for even a second. he never knew how you expected him to last with the way your cunt held his cock. it wouldn't matter if he had you every minute of the day, he would still be just as weak.

the first time he had you pinned in bed was the beginning of a never-ending story. you were so inclined to earn true pleasure with your steady-handed caretaker. neville was clumsily fumbling the first time only because of his nervousness not because of his inability to tend to you.

the heat between you was palpable. his touch was not the only thing providing sexual gratification but his very being was enough to have you melting.

your cunt squelched as his cock exited and re-entered. his tip glided against your g-spot. his brawny thighs cushioned your blow as he thudded against him with a quick snapping noise.

“yes,” you panted, falling limp into his rougher thrusts. “keeper, yes!” your legs buckled, slipping off his shoulder as he drove his final movements forward.

he was right with you. his creamy seed coating your walls as you rose quicker to your climax. his dick was so devilishly hardened as he came which hit your pleasure center just right. louder and louder you became as his thrusts went from rhythmic to rickety.

your grip around him was constraining, but he didn't pull away. he placed pecks along your jawline as he slowed himself while still buried in your pussy.

absolutely divine, being completely and utterly at his will. being cared for in the most intimate setting while now being cradled by your keeper. his weight pressed into your sweaty chest, still kissing your face. he was whispering praises while grabbing your discarded bath towel to not only clean you but also himself.

he stood to collect his briefs and a thin jumper hanging out of the dresser. both were for him but he snagged an extra quilt for you when he pulled the bedding over your body. he slid in next to you gently, not wanting to disturb the comfortable spot you had made for yourself after the innards of your legs had been wiped clean.

neville dragged his arm over you. he nudged his nose against the back of your neck and sighed softly into your fragrant hair. the quilt covered you both in the flickering bedside lantern light. satisfied, tended to perfection, and very well grounded were all good things to finally end the day.

well, until tomorrow when you would rise before the sun and begin your daily mischief while neville tended the shop. then when he returned home he would slip back into his role of caretaker and remind you that you always need extra nurturing to flourish.

“i love you, petal.”

the light was extinguished. your backside was pressed more firmly into neville, not only for warmth but security.

“i love you too, keeper.”

his fingers grazed your fresh plait, and that was enough to settle you for the evening.

[nysathewriter]

s. snape ⇢ what he will not forget

Pairing: Severus Snape x Professor!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings/Tags: Sexual Themes (nothing explicit) 18+, mutual (squint at first) pining, one-shot, herbology professor, small age gap (~4 years)

Summary: On Christmas Eve, Severus Snape needs a simple ingredient from the greenhouses; unknown to him, the ingredient he needs is a very strong aphrodisiac grown only at Hogwarts. Feelings that he convinced himself to be only irritation reveal themselves as something a little more... complicated.

A/N: This is my very first post haha! I've had this idea in my head for a little while. I feel it necessary to say that this takes place about mid-80s when Snape is in his mid-20's while the reader is early 20's. I hope whoever may read this will enjoy it!! I feel like there are some things to improve on but time will tell!

-----------------------

Moonlight glittered through the high windows of the dark, damp dungeon, illuminating a singular figure draped in black. In the latest hour of the night was when Severus Snape always found himself hunched over a bubbling cauldron. Not that he would complain—he preferred the solace of what he had always known.

Potions never startled him.

They never shifted beneath him.

They never asked him to change.

Severus hated change.

In his years of working at Hogwarts, he’d grown accustomed to the routine he’d carved out for himself: attend breakfast, teach Potions, skip lunch, hand out detention, attend dinner, and stay up until ungodly hours of the morning.

Every day the same.

Every day predictable.

That was until recently. Life, in its usual cruelty, had found a new way to upend his peace.

Winter had swallowed the castle whole, pressing silence against its drafty stones. Normally, Severus welcomed the quiet of December. The holidays emptied the corridors, muffled the echoes of his past, made the castle feel… bearable.

But not this year.

Almost immediately, the routine he had so carefully crafted over the years fell apart at the seams with the arrival of a new Herbology professor in September. And now, with the castle blanketed in snow, Severus found himself spitefully unused to your presence.

The absence of students during the holidays only made matters worse. With fewer bodies filling the corridors, it felt as though his chances of avoiding you diminished entirely. No matter where he went beyond the safety of his dungeons, there you were—impossibly, infuriatingly present.

You— the professor with unbearably kind eyes and ever-consuming smiles, who greeted each student with an enthusiasm that could rival a Niffler discovering a treasure chest. It irritated him endlessly.

But worst of all, he couldn’t avoid you no matter how hard he tried. Potions and Herbology were frustratingly intertwined, and you were the gatekeeper of nearly every essential ingredient he required to do his job.

Which is how he found himself heading to the greenhouses tonight, striding through the damp, cold corridors in the late hours of Christmas Eve.

Severus tried, rather stubbornly, to reason with himself. Surely, you wouldn’t be awake at this hour—especially on a holiday. He knew precisely which ingredient he needed and exactly where to find it; all he required was the faint hope that you wouldn’t be in the one greenhouse he had to enter.

If the universe had even a shred of mercy, he could slip in, gather the berries, and slip back out without anyone the wiser. Especially you, with your bright eyes.

But naturally, the universe had never been on his side.

———

Night had settled over the greenhouses, the warm glow of enchanted lights casting soft pools of illumination over the magical flora. Your attention was held on a delicate Moonlace Orchid, its pale petals shimmering faintly in the lamplight—a gift from one of your Hufflepuff students.

It wasn’t unusual for you to be awake this late, but it wasn’t often, either. You could blame the flower if you wanted, though the truth was simpler, sleep rarely found you during the long, quiet winter holidays.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as your fingers brushed the smooth, round petals. The buds glimmered faintly, like sunlight dancing across freshly powdered snow.

The soft click of the greenhouse doors made you start slightly, though your hands didn’t falter on the glowing flower. You hadn’t expected anyone to be here at this hour—not tonight, not on Christmas Eve. Your eyes lifted just enough to catch the shadow slipping through the doorway, moving with careful steps. Whoever it was had clearly assumed the greenhouse would be empty.

You lightly clear your throat, drawing the attention of a figure all too familiar as it moves across the greenhouse. He falters slightly as he nears the towering branches that stretch toward the glass roof.

Dark eyes lock on yours.

“I did not… expect anyone here.”

“I can tell,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

Annoyance flickers across Severus’ face before he turns back to the towering branches in the corner. Slowly, you rise from your spot by the Moonlace Orchid and make your way toward him.

“What brings you here so late, Severus?” you ask from behind. If your presence startled him, he gave no sign.

Instead, he remains silent, as if trying to will you out of existence.

After a beat of silence, he replies, voice clipped, “One might ask you the same.”

His back is still to you, head inclined toward the bare branches. You could almost imagine his steely gaze willing the bark to produce whatever he sought.

You huff softly, amused. “Would you at least tell me what it is you’re looking for? After all, I am the one who plants everything in here.”

Severus tilts his head back, raven hair shifting to reveal dark lashes that frame his onyx eyes, narrowing just slightly before he concedes.

“Mistletoe berries.”

For a moment, you think you’ve just heard Severus Snape make a joke—his first ever, perhaps. But when he holds your gaze with the same cool seriousness, you realize he is not joking. Bewilderment blooms in your mind, your thoughts scrambling to connect the pieces.

Why does the most anti-social man I’ve ever known need mistletoe berries on Christmas Eve?

Preoccupied with an impossible notion, your words trip over themselves. “O-oh, yeah! Of course.” You step toward the opposite side of the room. “I moved the mistletoe over here because the plants weren’t getting as much sunlight in that corner, though I can’t say I see much of a difference now. Maybe—if I moved them to the east wall…”

You trail off, realizing your rambling is likely of no concern to him.

Without a word, Severus steps in front of you, entirely ignoring your monologue. His right hand reaches for the nearest mistletoe, plucking the berries and dropping them into a wide jar tucked beneath his cloak.

As his cloak shifts, the scent of spearmint mingled with a faint trace of wood smoke drifts over, and heat prickles through you at the unexpected familiarity.

Wait, what?

Your stomach flips. Reeling, you step back, closing your eyes for a brief moment to steady yourself.

You shake your head, trying to clear the sudden heat rising in your cheeks. It’s late. You’re tired. Hormones. Just the winter, that’s all. Anything to explain why your pulse has gone rogue and your thoughts feel scrambled.

You take a slow breath, forcing your mind elsewhere, focusing on the soft glow of the Moonlace Orchid, not the faint smell of him lingering in the air.

And yet… even as you tell yourself all of that, your mind wanders. You notice the curve of his shoulders, the way his cloak shifts with each step, the dark glint of his eyes—even when he’s ignoring you. Over the past few weeks, you’ve felt it creeping in, inexplicably, whenever he’s near: aflutter, a pull, a warmth that makes you catch your own breath.

He turns finally, slowly, eyes narrowing as they sweep over you. He pauses, letting his gaze linger just long enough for your pulse to continue sporadically. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in the way he studies you that makes your stomach twist.

“You look… unwell,” he says finally. “Are you about to faint, Professor?”

You blink, shaking your head as though that would erase the truth your body is betraying. I’m fine. I’m fine. It’s late, I’m tired, I— you force the thoughts down, pressing your hands together, willing your racing pulse to slow.

His lips press into a thin line, and his eyes narrow further. “Do not lie to me. You are trembling. Look at you.”

“I—It’s nothing,” you murmur, fumbling for composure. Every word comes out too breathy, too fast, and you mentally curse yourself. Banish these ridiculous thoughts. Focus on the flowers. The orchid. Anything but him.

He steps closer, just enough to make you aware of the heat radiating from his body. He doesn’t seem to notice anything more than your supposed weakness. “Stop fidgeting. Compose yourself,” he says sharply, irritation edging his tone. “You’re acting ridiculous.”

You can’t think straight. Your mouth moves before your brain can catch up, and your feet drag you away from his imposing figure. “Back off, Severus.”

You turn away quickly, bracing your arms against the edge of a potting table, your head tucked between your shoulders. It’s as if your body has a mind of its own, possessed by the raging hormones of a teenager.

And then it hits you, all at once.

How could I be so stupid?

Glancing back at Severus, you don’t meet his eyes, knowing anger is surely painting his face. Instead, your gaze drops to the jar in his hands—the one holding the mistletoe berries he had just plucked—and you notice something. One of the berries had been crushed, its juice staining the inside of the container. The sharp, sweet scent begins to fill the air, and with it, a sudden flush rushes to your cheeks.

A sharp pang of regret stabs through you, and before you can stop it, the words spill out. “I should’ve left after showing you the berries, I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”

You take a steadying breath, avoiding his gaze as much as possible. “Take the berries to whoever you need them for, Severus. I’m sure they’ll be more useful to you there.” The words are out before you can stop them, and as soon as they leave your lips, you feel your heart drop.

What the hell am I even saying?

You can’t stand another second in his presence—you’re only embarrassing yourself more. Without waiting for his reaction, you turn sharply on your heel and push through the greenhouse doors, your breath coming fast as you step out into the cold, biting night. Snowflakes cling to your hair as you hurry away, each step away from the greenhouse feeling like an attempt to escape the weight of the moment.

———

Steam fogs up the bathroom mirror as the water drips down your face, the heat seeping into your skin, but it can’t chase away the uncomfortable realization still gnawing at you. You stand there, leaning against the cool tiles, your mind replaying the words from years ago like a broken record.

Professor Sprout’s voice rings clear in your head, despite the years since she’d spoken them:

“When extracting mistletoe from the branches of Crab-Apple trees, be very careful not to puncture or break the berries. Mistletoe berries are a special kind of aphrodisiac, though their effects are only felt when there is already a pre-existing connection or emotional inclination.”

You groan, thumping your head against the shower wall in frustration, the coolness a sharp contrast to the heat spreading across your skin. No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.

Your mind whirls, trying to block out the implications. Feelings for Severus Snape? The same man who’s barely spared you a glance all semester? The one who’s treated you like an inconvenience in his otherwise perfectly regimented life? The one whose every word drips with disdain whenever he does speak to you?

You shake your head, trying to push the thought away, but it refuses to go. You don’t feel anything for him. You can’t. He barely even notices you. You’re just another professor at Hogwarts, another annoyance in his carefully constructed routine. Right?

The droplets of water on your skin feel colder now, though you’re sure it’s just the chill from the bathroom air. You close your eyes, the mist from the shower swirling around you, but it does nothing to calm the heat that’s already spreading across your chest and neck.

A few minutes later, you found yourself cozied in your favorite chair by the fire, a book in hand, letting the warmth of the flames dry your hair. Your head was spinning, and the last thing you wanted was to think about Severus again, but there you were, doing exactly that. You tried to focus on the book in front of you, but your mind kept wandering back to the greenhouse, back to him, and back to those damn berries.

Just as you were trying to lose yourself in a paragraph, a brisk knock on your door jolted you from your thoughts. You froze, the book slipping from your hands, heart skipping a beat.

Frowning, you pushed yourself up, crossing the room quickly. You cracked the door open, eyes meeting a shock of raven-black hair before they flicked up to meet his darkened gaze.

Severus Snape stood there, looking as composed as ever, though his presence seemed to fill the doorway, imposing and heavy.

You were caught off guard. The last person you expected on your doorstep was him, especially after the situation at the greenhouse, and there was no way you could hide your surprise. You awkwardly tucked a damp strand of hair behind your ear, eyes dropping to the floor.

Severus cleared his throat, his voice smooth but with a hint of an edge. “They were for a potion.”

His words didn’t register at first. A potion? You blinked, still processing his unexpected arrival.

You stared at him, confused. “A potion?”

Severus’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The mistletoe berries. They were for a potion.”

“Oh,” you said slowly, the realization dawning on you with a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Right.”

It was clear that Severus was growing impatient, but you couldn’t help it.

He exhaled, almost as if he were begrudgingly sharing an explanation. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but I feel it’s necessary to clear up the misunderstanding earlier… for your own sanity.”

You blinked, feeling that strange flutter return to your chest. “I see,” you muttered, unsure how to follow up.

You wanted to leave it at that, to walk away from the whole conversation, but the awkward tension in the air made it impossible to escape. Severus wasn’t going anywhere.

Trying to clear your thoughts and regain some semblance of composure, you clear your throat and gesture toward the empty chair by the fire. “Would you like to sit and have some tea, then?”

Severus gives you a tight nod, his gaze flicking briefly to the chair before he strides into the room. His movements are purposeful, as always, and yet there’s something different in the air now—a quiet intensity.

He walks towards the chair you had been sitting in by the fire, eyes catching on the book you had abandoned on the armrest. It sits there, its pages still open, the words now irrelevant as your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

For a moment, neither of you speak. Severus seats himself in the chair nearest to the fire, his expression unreadable as he watches you prepare the tea.

You take a slow breath, finally glancing at him, but only for a moment. “I wasn’t expecting you to… come here,” you murmur, unsure how to break the silence.

He doesn’t respond immediately, his attention flicking briefly to the fire. “Nor was I expecting the… misunderstanding in the greenhouse,” he says, his voice cool but still not entirely comfortable with the situation.

You nod, though the knot in your stomach tightens, reminding you of the heat in your cheeks from earlier. You try to push the thought away—try to remind yourself that this is just about clearing things up. Nothing more.

His fingers brush yours briefly as he takes the cup from your hands, a simple contact that sends a small jolt through you. You immediately look away, feeling the pulse of warmth again, but not from the tea.

“So… you said you were using the mistletoe berries for a potion?” You prod lightly, trying to keep your voice casual.

A scowl deepens on Severus’ face, his dark eyes flickering to yours for just a moment before his gaze hardens. “Yes. A forgetfulness potion. As you should know, the only reason I collect ingredients from the greenhouses is for potion making. It is, after all, my job as Potions Master.” He leans forward slightly, his voice lowering. “Not for the use of unprofessional… pleasure activities.”

Heat rises in your cheeks, and you feel a pang of shame. “You’re right,” you mutter, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “I shouldn’t have assumed. It was late, and… well, never mind.” You pause for a second, trying to shake off the awkwardness. “Though I am correct in assuming you’re aware of the properties that mistletoe berries carry, yes?”

Severus narrows his eyes at you, his lips thinning as he processes your question. His gaze shifts away briefly as he contemplates, but then he responds slowly, as though weighing each word. “I… am aware of the basic properties of mistletoe berries for their use in my craft. My knowledge extends to the fact that magically grown mistletoe berries act as an aphrodisiac when consumed orally, rather than a poison, as most Muggles believe.”

You nod, not surprised by his knowledge. “Normally, yes,” you reply, your tone thoughtful as you glance away from him, staring into the fire. “However, the mistletoe berries grown here in the greenhouses are… a special variation.” A pause. “They grow on Crab-Apple trees, which alters their aphrodisiac properties slightly.”

Severus doesn’t interrupt, but you can see him taking in your words, his gaze steady. You clear your throat before continuing, choosing your next words carefully.

“The berries grown here at Hogwarts are… stronger than normal. Instead of being affected only by oral consumption, all it takes is the smallest puncture—or in our case, a crushed berry—to release the aphrodisiac compounds. The very smell of them, when present, enhances pre-existing sexual feelings or emotional inclinations.”

The weight of your words hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, Severus only looks at you, his expression unreadable.

“And,” he starts slowly, “I accidentally crushed one while jarring the berries.”

You nod, not sure if you should be relieved or embarrassed. “Yes.”

There’s a pause, a stretch of silence thick with the unspoken truth. Severus clears his throat. “And those were Crab Apple berries.”

You nod again, just a small movement, but it feels monumental in the quiet of the room.

His eyes hold yours for a beat longer, and then, in that voice of his—always so dry, yet somehow now laced with something that you can’t quite place—he asks, “Was your reaction in the greenhouse… caused by the crushed berry?”

Your breath catches in your throat. The question lingers, and your mind races, caught between the need to respond and the part of you that still wants to pretend none of this is happening.

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out at first. The weight of his question is almost too much to bear. Slowly, you find your voice, but it’s shaky, a breathy whisper. “I… I think so,” you admit, your voice barely audible over the sound of the crackling fire. “But that… that doesn’t change anything, Severus. It’s just… it was a mistake, and it won’t happen again.”

Severus leans forward slightly, his fingers tightening around his teacup as though the warmth is the only thing keeping him grounded. His expression is tight, but there’s something in his eyes—something flickering beneath the surface—that betrays the storm of thoughts roiling within him.

“To make this perfectly clear,” he says, his voice low, as if he’s forcing himself to stay composed. “I came here to clarify that I was using the mistletoe berries for a potion, not… not using them for any sort of sexual activities.” He emphasizes the words, his lips curling into something between a sneer and a grimace, but his gaze doesn’t waver from yours.

You nod, swallowing thickly, trying to steady your pulse as the air between you thickens. “Right. Of course,” you mutter, rubbing your thumb along the rim of your teacup, still avoiding his gaze. “I understand—”

His voice slices through the air like a blade, sharper now, the irritation evident. “But now you’re telling me that this,” he gestures vaguely between the two of you, his hand cutting through the space in front of him, “this… situation, is a result of the mistletoe berries enhancing our already existent sexual inclinations?”

The words hang in the air like a storm cloud, and you feel your throat tighten, your heart skipping in response. The way he says it—like that—makes something shift inside you, a sudden, unsettling clarity creeping in. His question feels like a challenge, like he’s daring you to admit something you’re only just beginning to understand.

You blink, the words hitting you harder than expected. “Excuse me?” you manage, the heat rising to your face as confusion churns in your stomach.

Severus breathes in slowly, but there’s a tension in his posture, in the way his shoulders stay rigid. His eyes are dark, searching, almost predatory in the way they lock onto yours. “Is this not your conclusion?” he asks, his voice growing more clipped, a cold edge creeping in. “That the berries affected us both equally? That the… reaction we had in the greenhouse was because of them?”

You freeze. A sudden realization floods your senses like a rush of ice water. You thought he was unaffected. Hell, you were sure of it. The only reason you could explain your own reaction was the berries—that was the only logical way to account for it. But Severus? He had seemed… so composed. So detached. Almost indifferent.

A small, tight laugh escapes you, but it feels wrong, forced. “I… I thought it was just me,” you murmur, your voice faint, the words stumbling out before you can catch them. You clear your throat, trying to steady your breath. “I thought you were fine. You didn’t—”

You stop, suddenly aware of how exposed you’ve become. You don’t even know how to finish the sentence. How can you even say it? You bite your lip and try to push it back, but the truth is out, hanging between you like a weight.

The implication lingers in the air, thick and charged. Your pulse races, your thoughts scattering in all directions. You were sure you could handle this conversation, but now that it’s spiraling, you’re unsure where to go next.

He leans forward, and you feel the weight of it, the subtle shift in his posture. His gaze doesn’t leave you for a second. You almost can’t breathe under the intensity of it. There’s something simmering beneath the surface, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

The room feels small now, the space between you two electric. The seconds drag on, stretching impossibly long.

Severus lets out a soft exhale, a barely-there sound that you could easily miss if you weren’t paying close attention. His gaze flickers downward for a brief moment, his jaw tightening again before he looks back up at you, his eyes ever-darker than before. “I find it… interesting,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost thoughtful, “that you assumed I would be unaffected by something as potent as mistletoe berries.”

His words hang there like a challenge, and you find yourself frozen, caught between the desire to look away and the magnetic pull of his presence. You’ve never seen him like this—this close, this engaged. It’s as if the air is thickening with something unsaid, something dangerous.

“I…” You struggle for words, but they all feel wrong, inadequate. “I didn’t think…” you start, but then the truth settles like a stone in your stomach, and you stop, suddenly aware of just how much you’ve misjudged.

The silence stretches again, taut and electric, before Severus speaks again, his voice almost a growl. “And now?”

It was an invitation. Severus’s tone left no room for misinterpretation, not even the shy kind. He leaned forward, knees canted outward, black robes splaying as if to clear more territory. His gaze darted along your cheekbones, then lower, then up, making you acutely aware of every inch of yourself. The warmth along your skin was dizzying.

You shifted in your chair. The wood creaked, and the sound was obscenely loud in the hush between you. You tried to keep your voice steady. “I-I don’t… I mean, I’m not sure-”

Severus scoffed, but there was no real derision in it. “You have an imagination, I should hope. Or is that, too, a casualty of your… socialization?” The last word came out sharp, but his attention on you didn’t waver. A strand of his hair had fallen loose, and now it hovered somewhere between his jaw and his collar.

You considered what answer he wanted, and what answer you had. “I have an imagination,” you managed, sounding less cowed than you’d expected. “Just… not the right frame of reference, apparently.”

His presence is overwhelming, the heat radiating from him a tangible force that presses against you, leaving little space for breath. His knee brushes against yours, a touch that sends a shiver through your spine, the intensity of it making your heart race.

“Then perhaps we might… correct that.”

The words are low, thick and with something unspoken, they settle in the air between you like a promise you can’t ignore. Your thoughts scatter, but somehow, in the chaos, you’re here—right where you want to be.

With a trembling hand, you slide it from the armrest of your chair, fingers lightly brushing the dark fabric of his trousers, tracing a line up his thigh. You move down slowly, away from your chair. The tension between you both pulls tighter with every inch of distance you close, until your hand slides all the way up and finds its place at the center of his chest, holding him there, grounded.

Folding your legs beneath you on the ground, you position yourself between his legs, spread in his chair. Your gaze remains locked with his, the deep onyx of his eyes pulling you in deeper with every beat of your heart. A soft whisper leaves your lips.

“Severus…”

The sound of his name is almost like a plea, a quiet question hanging in the air.

His hands move before you can process it, gentle but firm, cupping your face, his thumbs brushing the skin of your cheek as he tilts your head up to meet him. There’s something in his eyes—a quiet fire—something you never expected to see from Severus Snape. But it’s there, unmistakable.

A warm finger begins to trace the soft flesh of your lower lip, your own gaze dropping to his mouth as your left hand slides across his thigh to his hip, your right hand still resting on his chest.

“Please,” you sigh into his caress.

Severus leans closer, his breath warm against your lips. His eyes flicker from yours to your mouth, as though testing the waters. His gaze is intense—like he’s waiting for you to make the first move. But in the space between, in the silence that fills the room, neither of you speak. The only sound is the pounding of your heart.

And then, he’s there. His lips brush against yours in the lightest of touches, a whisper of contact that sends a jolt of electricity down your spine. You freeze, just for a moment, your body catching up to what’s happening. You lean into him, pressing your lips more firmly against his. His hands slide from your face to your neck, goosebumps trailing in their wake.

But then, something shifts.

The tension between you cracks open, and the kiss deepens. His lips, once slow and cautious, begin to press against yours more firmly, with purpose. His fingers tighten around your neck—not painfully, but enough to show his control, as though he’s done holding back.

There’s a sudden urgency in his movements now, as if the hesitation had shattered and something raw is finally surfacing…

[glitterandwitchcraft]

🌱🌿ALL ABOUT MINT🌿🌱

Mint is an easy to source and easy to grow herb, making it amazing for witchcraft! You can use it in foods, drinks, decorations, scent pouches, and it can even be found in personal products like hair and skin care and cosmetics. It comes in many different varieties as well and they're all fairly hardy making them a perfect starting herb for people as well!

Mint brings many properties into workings, most notably a boost in energy. It's very lively and has a strong, uplifting, energetic scent to it. This also makes it great to cleanse the mind and space as well and call forth more positive energies.

Its vigor also makes it great for bringing in healing and protective energies as well. The roots of mint plants are very durable and some even say that it can completely take over an area if you're not careful. When I transplant mint, I am not the most delicate with bound roots because it will flourish regardless.

Being associated with the air element, it also makes it great to include in any workings dealing with communication. It can help stimulate better communication and give strength to your communication. Being associated with air also lends it a helping energy for travel workings and spells as well.

Even for the mundane, mint is very useful when sick or anxious. It is believed that mint can help calm anxiety and help ease brain fog. Mint tea is also a popular drink for colds and sore throats. Mint extracts are even used in medicines for all sorts of purposes.

Certain people should not consume various types of mint though. People who have GERD or organ transplants for example are advised to not ingest mint. As with everything, always consult medical professionals if you are unsure of any drug interactions, even if they seem harmless. Coming from personal experience of almost putting myself in a coma due to interactions with a common anti-depressant and common pain relievers, always double check!

Happy witching!!

[shadesofgaunt]

[coven-of-genesis]

Top 20 Healing Plants in Nature 🔮🌿

The Earth has always offered medicine to those who walk gently with her. From forest trails to kitchen cabinets, plants carry ancient wisdom and healing frequencies that support body, mind, and spirit.

Here’s a breakdown of 20 powerful herbs and botanicals ~ their magickal uses, metaphysical properties, and traditional healing benefits 🌙

🍃 ALOE VERA – Skin Soothing

💫 Magickal Use: Healing, protection, and beauty spells

🧪 Herbal Use: Treats burns, skin irritation, and dryness. Hydrating and cooling ~ a literal balm.

🌾 ASHWAGANDHA – Stress Reduction

💫 Magickal Use: Grounding, resilience, inner peace

🧪 Herbal Use: An adaptogen that helps the body cope with stress. Balances cortisol and restores energy.

🌼 CHAMOMILE – Calms the Nervous System

💫 Magickal Use: Dreamwork, sleep magic, protection

🧪 Herbal Use: Soothes anxiety, helps with insomnia, gentle on the stomach. Great in teas before bed.

🌲 CONIFER TREES – Forest Therapy, Air Purifier

💫 Magickal Use: Grounding, banishing negativity, protection

🧪 Herbal Use: Their essential oils (pine, fir, spruce) are cleansing, uplifting, and antibacterial.

🌸 ECHINACEA – Immune Boosting

💫 Magickal Use: Strength, resilience, longevity

🧪 Herbal Use: Used during colds and flus to strengthen immune response. Can be taken as tincture or tea.

🌬 EUCALYPTUS – Respiratory Support

💫 Magickal Use: Purification, road opening, uncrossing

🧪 Herbal Use: Clears sinuses, soothes coughs, and supports breathing. Use in steams, oils, or rubs.

🧠 GINKGO BILOBA – Cognitive Support

💫 Magickal Use: Mental clarity, memory recall, focus spells

🧪 Herbal Use: Improves brain function and circulation. Often used for focus and memory in older adults.

🔥 GINGER – Anti-Inflammatory, Nausea Relief

💫 Magickal Use: Speed, passion, success, energy boosting

🧪 Herbal Use: Great for digestion, menstrual cramps, and motion sickness. Heats up the body and spirit.

⚡️ GINSENG – Energy Booster

💫 Magickal Use: Strength, stamina, masculine energy

🧪 Herbal Use: Adaptogenic, increases vitality, stamina, and stress resistance.

🌿 HOLY BASIL (TULSI) – Adaptogenic Herb

💫 Magickal Use: Spiritual clarity, harmony, divine protection

🧪 Herbal Use: Balances mood, regulates stress, enhances digestion, and supports immunity.

💜 LAVENDER – Relaxation Aid

💫 Magickal Use: Peace, sleep, self-love, gentle protection

🧪 Herbal Use: Calms anxiety, soothes the nervous system, used in oils, baths, and teas.

🍋 LEMON BALM – Anxiety Relief

💫 Magickal Use: Joy, attraction, heart healing

🧪 Herbal Use: A calming nervine that helps lift moods, reduce stress, and soothe tension headaches.

🍃 NETTLE – Allergy Relief

💫 Magickal Use: Protection, strength, boundary setting

🧪 Herbal Use: Iron-rich, supports kidney health, and helps regulate seasonal allergies.

☘️ OREGANO – Antioxidant, Immune Support

💫 Magickal Use: Warding, cleansing, prosperity

🧪 Herbal Use: Antibacterial, antifungal, and immune-supporting. Great in oils and tinctures.

💐 PASSIONFLOWER – Anxiety Reduction

💫 Magickal Use: Love, peace, dreamwork

🧪 Herbal Use: Calms the nervous system and aids sleep without grogginess. Often found in herbal sleep blends.

🌱 PEPPERMINT – Digestive Aid, Tension Relief

💫 Magickal Use: Healing, strength, money-drawing

🧪 Herbal Use: Relieves bloating, cramps, and nausea. Uplifts mood and clears mental fog.

🌲 ROSEMARY – Cognitive + Memory Enhancement

💫 Magickal Use: Protection, remembrance, mental clarity

🧪 Herbal Use: Improves concentration, circulation, and memory. Often used in hair and scalp care too.

🌞 ST. JOHN’S WORT – Mood Stabilizing

💫 Magickal Use: Solar energy, light in dark places, banishing depression

🧪 Herbal Use: Naturally supports serotonin levels. Not for use with certain medications — do your research.

🧡 TURMERIC – Anti-Inflammatory

💫 Magickal Use: Purification, courage, radiant energy

🧪 Herbal Use: Potent anti-inflammatory, supports joint and digestive health. Always pair with black pepper.

🌙 VALERIAN – Sleep Aid

💫 Magickal Use: Peaceful sleep, astral travel, dream recall

🧪 Herbal Use: Strong sedative herb. Helps those with insomnia or nighttime anxiety. Powerful, earthy scent

Reminder: Always do your own research before using herbs, especially if pregnant, breastfeeding, or on medications. Not all herbs are suitable for everyone ~ and some are toxic to pets! 🌸