I'd Draw You Smiling

I hate mandrakes. I hate mandrakes. Blimey, I really fucking hate mandrakes.

I grabbed the green stalk of a particularly nasty little bugger and tugged. The thing seemed to tug back and, after a struggle of epic proportions involving lightning flashes and cascading scores of dramatic music, I gave up. Taking a step away from the table, I crossed my arms over my chest and stared around beseechingly. Professor Sprout was too busy to notice my lack of successful activity. She was clutching a screeching mandrake in each hand, and as I watched, she dropped them heavily into pots of dirt and wiped her brow, leaving a streak of dirt behind and looking exhausted.

Lee Jordan and I were working together, and he simply glanced over his shoulder at me and shook his head. He reached for my potted mandrake and heaved it out, then shook it in my direction, causing it to keen loud enough to puncture my woolen earmuffs. My vision shimmered a bit, and I clamped my hands over my ears, determined to remain conscious. Lee chuckled and dumped the plant/animal/whatever into another pot.

I stepped closer to the table and took the naked mandrake from Lee, who chuckled upon seeing my expression. Fred and George, who were across the table from us, were experimenting with their mandrakes. George poked his in various areas, laughing when it would squirm and scream louder. I was suddenly immensely glad that I wasn’t paired with one of them. Lee was completely competent and liked to complete his work without incident. Watching Fred have his finger bitten by a shriveled, brown, root-like creature reinforced my belief that he and George were the complete opposite.

I had begun Herbology that year partnered with George, standing across the table from Lee and Fred. Things went fairly well until the time came to collect the puss that filled the boils on Bubotubers. There was a nasty accident in which George tried to transfer his bowl of puss into another – which happened to be quite close to my hand, might I add. I ended up in the hospital wing without the use of my right hand for a few hours. I wanted to beat him senseless, but couldn't make a fist without wincing.

It was a Thursday morning, quite balmy for late April. I stared longingly through the greenhouse windows at the sunshine that spilled across the grounds. Hagrid was teaching a class of fourth years, who seemed to be trying to lead around rather large, pale grey lobsters with the ability to spout fire. I longed to get closer, if only to get away from the screaming of the mandrakes. However, after watching a girl with blonde hair get dragged a few feet through the dirt by her lobster, I decided that I would perhaps choose the mandrakes after all. They didn’t spit fire and were completely harmless if you had a pair of earmuffs handy.

I heard a muffled thud a few stations to my right, and looked around Lee and a few sixth year Hufflepuffs to see someone in a heap on the ground. This person's working partner just stood there, looking completely stupid and at a loss for words or actions. He seemed to sense my gaze and glanced up, his mouth hanging open slightly. He shrugged his shoulders and dropped the mandrake he was holding into a pot, seemingly unaware that – without proper ear protection – the mandrake's cry can kill you. Either that, or he was completely unphased over the knowledge that such a fate had befallen his classmate.

"Ah, Professor Sprout?" I called, hoping that she was free enough to hear me.

"What is it, Lacey?" She cried, her grey hair looking slightly frizzier as she attempted to hold four mandrakes at once.

"I'm not sure, but I think someone just fainted?"

"Well, be a dear and go over to make sure they're not dead." She turned and ran in the opposite direction, thumping a Hufflepuff girl in the back of the head with her elbow as she went.

"Goodness." I said, my eyes wide.

I wrung my hands a bit and glanced at Lee. He shrugged his shoulders and busied himself with another pot. Fred and George grinned, and I distantly heard Fred say "Hope he's not dead!", then flash me a cheerful thumbs up. I threw him a sour glance and he only grinned. George chuckled and waved me on enthusiastically.

I walked timidly over to the crumpled mass of long arms and legs and stood there for a moment, looking for a face. The unalarmed boy I'd made eye contact with a few moments prior turned around and shrugged at me again, looking only slightly panicked.

"I just pulled out the thing, and he sort of slumped. I don't really know what the bloody hell happened."

I didn’t say anything, but crouched on the dirt floor beside this unconscious Hufflepuff. He didn’t move, even when I prodded his shoulder with my gloved fingers.

"Ah, hello?" I said, now shaking him with both hands, "Hell-ohh! Come on, then, wake up!"

The robes fell away from the boy's face and my hands jumped back for a moment. Cedric Diggory was lying on the ground at my feet, his mouth lolling open.

Bloody hell, killed by a mandrake. I thought, already frowning at the loss. I'd always had sort of a crush on Cedric, although I'd never actually admitted it to anyone. He'd been doing so well in the Tournament.

I leaned my face close to his earmuffed ear and said his name as loud as I could, mostly to be sure he wasn't actually dead. Thankfully, he stirred, his long-fingered hands going first to his eyes, then to his ears. He sat up, looking quite dazed. His work partner laughed and thumped him on the back with the flat of his palm.

"What the bloody hell, Ced?" he yelled.

"Dunno." Cedric replied. Then, finally seeming to notice that I was standing there, he said pleasantly, "Oh, hello."

He smiled in a way that said 'Thank you very much for ogling me, but could we perhaps re-schedule? I've just had a bit of an incident, and I'm not sure I look my best.'

I'd always heard that he was quite nice, if not just a little bit… well, stupid. I reached out a hand to help him up.

"I just saved your life, you know." I said.

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows.

"No, not really. I just wanted to experience the shining, fleeting moment of glory when you believed me." I shrugged and put my hands in my pockets. "I also didn't want you thinking I'd only come over here to ogle you while you were unconscious. I suppose that frequently happens to attractive people." I said, fighting a blush.

"You think I'm attractive?" He grinned, taking on a new interest in me.

"Sure, though I'm not the fawning type." I shrugged again, trying to ignore the sense of absolute mortification settling in the pit of my stomach. Cedric laughed.

"Well, okay. Thank you for sort-of saving my life. Your name is Lacey, right? You were the one that fell in the mud? By the lake the day of the second task? I didn't see it myself, but a few of my mates told me…"

"Yeah, that was me," I scratched the inside of my elbow idly, then held my hand out, "Lacey James."

"Cedric Diggory," He said, taking my hand in his own and shaking it briskly.

"Well, I've got some mandrakes to take care of so I suppose I'll talk to you later," I turned to walk back to my station, where Lee was glaring over at me, "Good luck in the maze, by the way."

I pressed my earmuffs harder against my ears and stood again beside Lee, who was still glaring, now with his hands full of dirt. I gave him a questioning look but he just scowled in disgust and threw his fistfuls of dirt into an empty pot. A recently pulled mandrake was writhing and screeching on the wooden table, blinking its beady eyes at the light. Lee looked over his shoulder at me with narrow eyes.

"What?" I said defensively, reaching for the ugly thing and hoisting it in the air.

"Cedric Diggory? Come, on, Lace!" He held the pot at arm's length so I could drop the mandrake in.

"Lee! I saved his life without actually saving his life!"

"Yeah, you're fraternizing with the enemy, you know what?"

"Jealous, Lee?" Fred said, having watched the entire exchange with an expression of amused delight.

Lee sighed, reaching for a garden spade. "No, no, of course not. But - "

"I am!" George shouted. I shot him a naughty hand gesture and he only smiled wider.

"I hate mandrakes." I said, and the three boys nodded their agreement, all previous conversation seemingly utterly forgotten.

After a few more minutes of seemingly endless screeching, the bell rang for lunch. I tore off my gloves and deposited my earmuffs in the bin by the doorway, then strolled up to the castle with Fred, George, and Lee, shaking dirt out of the folds in my robes every few steps.

We sat in a row at the Gryffindor table, dropping our books and bags onto the floor behind us. Fred, George, myself, Ron, and Ginny made a section of excruciatingly bright red hair. I was going to make a comment about the completion of the Weasley family when Ron bolted up from his seat, his hands full of chicken legs and rolls.

"Bloody hell, I was supposed to practice with Harry and Hermione!" Without another word, he dashed from the hall.

"Run along now, ickle Ronniekins!" Fred called after him. He and George lifted themselves to sit on the place he had just vacated, stretching their legs out into the aisle in a lazy attempt to trip anyone that walked by. Most people avoided them.

"That wasn't very nice," I said, punching Fred lightly on the shoulder.

"HA! Coming from the girl that called us snotty-nosed brats last night!" He said, reaching over to tug my hair. I leaned away so he wouldn’t be able to reach.

"You called me a housewife. Plus, I made up for it by saving Cedric Diggory's life."

"It wasn't our fault you decided to wait up for us, Dearest." George replied, reaching around his brother and helping himself to the remnants of the roll on my plate, "Plus, you weren't doing us any favors saving Cedric. We support Harry." He stuffed the bread into his mouth and grinned madly.

"You know, I debated for a moment," I lied smoothly, batting his hand away as he reached for my pumpkin juice, "I thought maybe I should just leave him there. But the mother in me couldn’t. Plus, he's just so damned attractive."

"Says you!" Fred laughed.

"And you would know? Tell me, Fred, is there something I'm missing?" I pinched his cheek.

"Oh, sod off!" He scowled and George laughed.

"Come on," I said, standing and ruffling their hair, "I'm full and we have Defense Against the Dark Arts next. I want to see if Moody wears his eyeball when he's by himself."

The three of us strolled down the aisle, George grabbing Lee by the back of his robes as we passed.