Greenhouses, Secrets, and a Quiet Embrace
Sprout Reports to the Headmaster
The Headmaster's office was unusually full.
Professor Sprout stood near the window, hands clasped, eyes still shining with excitement.
Beside her sat McGonagall, posture straight as ever.
Flitwick hovered on a stack of cushions, feet swinging slightly.
Snape lurked in the shadows, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Dumbledore listened calmly as Sprout finished her report.
"…and the yield increased by nearly forty percent, Albus. Perfect balance. No strain on the soil. It was beautiful magic."
Flitwick nodded rapidly.
"I felt it too—ancient, but gentle. Not disruptive."
McGonagall adjusted her glasses.
"Yesterday the Whomping Willow. Today the greenhouses."
Snape's voice cut in, sharp and cold.
"And all accomplished with a dragon you claim is not even fully awakened."
Sprout bristled.
"Zygarde is not violent, Severus. It's a guardian."
Dumbledore steepled his fingers, smiling faintly.
"Then Hogwarts is fortunate," he said softly,
"that such a guardian listens to Keith."
Snape's eyes narrowed.
"That is precisely what worries me."
Hermione Corners Keith
Later that afternoon, in a quiet corridor near the greenhouses—
"H—Keith!"
Hermione stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
Keith stopped.
"Yes?"
She hesitated, clearly rehearsing something in her head.
Before she could speak, Keith gently placed a hand on her cheek.
Hermione froze.
"…K-Keith?"
He smiled—mischievous, knowing.
With a soft hum of magic, the air shimmered.
They vanished.
To the outside world, the corridor was suddenly empty.
Hermione gasped softly as Keith pulled her into a gentle hug.
Her face turned bright red.
"…You can't just—do that," she whispered.
Yet—she didn't move away.
Keith chuckled softly.
"What did you want to tell me?"
Hermione swallowed.
"You know that… I, Katie, Angelina, and Helena love you, right?"
Keith nodded calmly.
"I know."
She looked up, searching his face.
"And?"
"I'm looking forward to your confessions," he said honestly.
"But I won't give you the blessing yet."
Hermione stiffened slightly.
"…Why?"
Keith's voice turned serious.
"A dragon's blessing is sacred. It changes your blood, your soul, your fate."
Her eyes widened.
"You need time. Your magic needs to adjust naturally first," he continued gently.
"Only dragon wives receive it."
Hermione exhaled slowly, the weight of his words sinking in.
"…It's that serious."
Keith nodded.
She hesitated, then spoke softly.
"Can we… stay like this for a bit?"
He tightened the hug slightly.
"Of course."
They stayed there, hidden from the world, sharing quiet whispers.
Hermione asked about Fleur and Gabrielle.
Keith smiled faintly.
"They have feelings for me. I know."
Hermione blinked.
"Even Gabrielle?"
"Yes," he said gently.
"They're Veela—but even so, they're nervous. Afraid to say it."
He brushed Hermione's hair back.
"I'm looking forward to it. When they're ready."
Hermione smiled softly, resting her forehead against his chest.
For a moment—
There were no houses.
No politics.
No dragons.
Just two young people sharing a secret space in a castle full of eyes.