Chapter 369: The Restlessness of Youth
Sirius stood beside the planting trough, one hand behind his back, the other waving through the air.
His mouth moved fast, expression like someone explaining something terribly complicated and making it worse with every word, brow knotted into a mess.
Eleanor crouched in front of the trough, a potted Mandrake clutched to her chest, arms locked around it like a shield.
She looked up at Sirius with her brows pinched, the corners of her mouth turned down, her earmuffed head tilted slightly. The expression on her face needed no translation: What nonsense are you spouting?
Sirius brought his hand out from behind his back. Clenched in his fingers were several leaves, dark green, thick, serrated edges. Mandrake leaves.
He tried to hide his hand behind him again, then brought it back out, apparently defending himself, his expression sliding from explanation into shamelessness.
Eleanor's face darkened instantly, as though she'd witnessed an unforgivable crime.
She shot to her feet. The pot nearly slipped from her arms, wobbling twice before she caught it. Her right hand freed itself and lunged for the leaves in his grip.
Sirius reacted fast. His arm shot up, stretched overhead.