"What are we taking these bags and knives for again?" asked Draco, picking one up.

"We're going to see if we can collect some Wary Treefur and Spotted Bindweed for Severus; Viridian Tuft, the new herbology teacher, wants some Stellashot cuttings to transplant, if we can find a bush. Tomorrow is Poppy's birthday, so Albus asked me to find her a Crooning Violet. Apparently she's quite partial to them."

"How do you know all this stuff, Weasley? I wouldn't have the faintest idea what any of these things are."

"The Earth Magic course contains a lot of wild herbology, and I have a book for indentification."

"Earth Magic? Is that what you've been up to for the past five years?"

Ron and Draco had slid into a kind of easy companionship over the last two weeks, since the Trap Incident, as they both privately called it. Draco had even handed Harry and Ron something for their hangovers as they staggered from Ron's room the morning after, and Ron managed to avoid Harry's heavy handed teasing about how concerned and solicitous Draco had been. However, they hadn't talked much about what they'd been doing since the war, because that would mean talking about the war, and neither wanted to do that. Since talking about their school days was out of the question, their conversation had mainly been limited to what they were doing now and exchanging views on current events.

"Yes. I studied on a joint exchange program between Steeple College and Omsk Institute in Siberia. I spent a year in Siberia, then spent two years on a conservation project in the Himalayas between Nepal, India and Bhutan. It was pretty interesting."

"It sounds it." Draco hefted his bag as Ron got ready to go into the forest. "What else did you study apart from wild herbology?"

"Are you really interested?"

"Yes, of course."

"There is no "of course" about it. For all I know, you might be trying to lull me into a false sense of security so you can try to get something out of me." Ron's eyes sparkled at the look of outrage on Draco's face. Fortunately, Draco saw the sparkle before he launched into an indignant tirade against Ron's suspicions.

"Well, I am interested," he defended himself. "We haven't talked much about what we've been doing."

"Ok, then. I'll start. We've got a long way to go to get to the boundary in this part of the forest, so it will help pass the time. But make sure you keep alert too."

They disappeared into the forest, Ron leading the way over a rough, but fairly broad, path that seemed to head straight into the middle of the forest. Draco was secretly quite scared of the forest, having never completely recovered from his first, disastrous, encounter with the forest, so he was pleased that Ron kept talking.

"Earth Magic is a pretty small discipline. Not many people study it. It covers wild herbology and care of magical creatures, and then topics like ley lines, faerie magic, stone circles and astrology, and cultural magic."

"How did you come to study it?"

"During the war, we were hampered by our lack of contact with Wild Magic. We couldn't tap into the resources used by previous generations of wizards, simply because not enough people knew how. I got into contact with the few people left who practiced Earth Magic, got curious; then got fascinated. I decided to study it right after the war ended."

"It sounds like something worth doing."

"Oh, it is. I feel like I'm saving something, guarding something, for the future." Ron paused in a patch of sun and tilted his face up. Draco joined him, and they absorbed the warmth before heading back under the shade of the trees. "How did you end up doing this? I thought you would have ended up as another Lord of the Manor, living off your inheritance."

"Yeah, well, there wasn't much of that left by the time the war ended and I discovered just what had happened to the family fortune. It was a good thing Lucius was dead, or I might have killed him myself." Ron glanced sharply at Draco. It was the first time that Draco had mentioned his father, or his death, and Ron didn't think the Forbidden Forest was the right place to discuss such an emotionally charged topic.

"Charms, though?" he prompted, trying to change the subject.

"Wards," corrected Draco. "Like you, I saw what we needed during the war. Over in information, we saw a lot of people and contacts lost because they weren't warded properly. It wasn't even a matter of strength; it was often just sloppiness that created vulnerabilities that the Deatheaters could exploit. They left something out, or neglected to disguise their wards; just little things like that."

"So when did you start to study it?"

"Unlike you, I didn't know what I wanted to do right away. I spent three years working at the Ministry - a lot of the old families trusted me, and my name, even if I had been on the good side all along, and I stood up for the old interests. The Ministry was gripped by paranoia for a while. People like Fudge, who we could well have done without, were trying to introduce all sorts of anti-dark laws on things that weren't even dark."

"I remember my father talking about it," said Ron.

"Yeah, he was pretty tolerant; no laws that inhibit freedom, no hysteria; and there were some others. But, for the most part, things were pretty bad until we managed to get rid of Fudge. I often wished that the Deatheaters had got him. It couldn't have made the war worse, and it would have made the aftermath better."

By now, they were deep in the forest, and it was dark under the trees. Draco kept close to Ron. They were silent for a little while, and then Draco heard a strange humming noise.

"What's that?"

"It might be the Crooning Violet," Ron answered, "though they normally have words in their music. However, I've only seen them round people, and maybe they have to learn the words. So no swearing in front of it if it happens to be one, alright?"

They crept through the undergrowth, and Ron soon spotted the violet. It was beautiful, standing nearly 50 cm tall with glossy leaves and huge purple flowers. It waved its flower heads as it hummed. Ron walked up quietly and checked carefully all round it.

"No, it doesn't seem to be sheltering anything venomous or full of prickles or teeth, so I'll get it. Draco, stand back, just in case there is something lurking round, and keep your wand out."

Ron dug carefully round the base, and soon had the violet out. He talked soothingly to it the entire time, keeping it from distress. He wrapped the roots in plastic and carefully placed it in one of the bags, with a spell on it to stop it from bruising. Despite his care, one of the flowers had fallen off, and he picked it up off the ground.

"Here, Draco, put this behind your ear," he said absently. "It will make your eyes look stormier." Draco took the flower and looked at it like he'd never seen one before, then looked at Ron like he'd sprouted a second head.

"Stormier?" he echoed.

"Yeah. I think it might make them wilder. You know." Ron picked up his backpack and was halfway across the clearing before his mind registered what he'd just said. He turned, already blushing, to see Draco looking at the flower again. As he opened his mouth to disclaim any sentimental notion, Draco tucked the flower behind his ear and held it in place with a quick charm. His mouth curved in a secret little smile. He looked up at Ron, then, standing there with his mouth open and blushing scarlet. He looked down and seemed to snap back into Malfoy mode. When he spoke, his voice was business like.

"Right, let's keep going. We've still got to get to the boundary and check those wards, remember?" He marched off, not quite sure what he felt, but sure that he wasn't really comfortable with the butterflies in his stomach, as exciting as they were. But he didn't remove the violet. Ron walked behind him, trying hard not to look at Draco's nice legs striding ahead of him, and also trying to avoid thinking about what had prompted him to give Draco the flower in the first place. He did not need that kind of complication.

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