#Pomegranate Seedling Journal

[growingstoriesandgardens]

10/20/2022- Pomegranate Seedlings Update!

Don't know if it shows or not but since my last post, these HAVE put on a few more sets of leaves and still seem to be trying to grow! They have most certainly have begun slowing cause it's getting so cold at night even inside...but they really like the light they get here. So they are continuing to slowly grow. They are are getting a more woody stem at the base and are officially on my list of things to get into new pots in the spring.

The other new thing is, sort of yellowy leaf tips? They aren't burnt, and I am actually super confident these aren't being over or under watered (roots are peaking out the bottom holes, nice and healthy looking). No sign of bugs, though I plan tomorrow to go through and check them thoroughly for any sign of pests. My guess is that these plants do go yellow before dropping leaves in the winter naturally, so this might be that starting.

Regardless they STILL are putting out new sets of leaves so, whatever it is much not be that detrimental.

Wish me luck!

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Earth Island Journal:

KOCHKOR KALDARBAEV REMEMBERS the forest of his childhood. It’s dense, with thickets of tall grass and brambles that make walking in a straight line impossible. Trees come in all shapes and sizes: spindly youngsters, stately elders, tiny seedlings peeking up through the forest floor. They come in all varieties, too, from hawthorn and maple to fruit-bearing trees like apple, pistachio, and plum. And everywhere you look, there’s the walnut: wide, smooth trunks branching off into bushy green canopies, with clusters of round fruits waiting to be cracked open to get at the creamy nut inside.

Kaldarbaev was born and raised in the village of Arslanbob in the mountains of southern Kyrgyzstan, a Central Asian nation home to the world’s largest natural-growth walnut forest. Today the forest covers some 50 square miles of a fertile valley of the Tian Shan Mountain range, which stretches from Uzbekistan in the west to China and Mongolia in the east.

His father spent 40 years working for the then-Soviet government as a forestry officer tasked with keeping the forest healthy and managing how people used it — which then, as now, mostly involved harvesting walnuts, the region’s main source of income and a key ingredient of the local culture and traditions.

For centuries, every fall, the residents of Arslanbob and other villages dotting these mountains have left their homes and camped out in the dense forest, spending weeks shaking down the ripe nuts from the trees and collecting them by hand. Usually, this is an all-hands-on-deck job for entire families, including children. During harvest season, the walnuts make their way from local markets in the nearby city of Jalal-Abad to Europe and Asia, mostly along trade routes that once comprised the Silk Road.

But by 2012, Kaldarbaev could walk through the forest understory with relative ease. The thick undergrowth was mostly gone, as were the smaller, more immature trees, says the 51-year-old who followed in his father’s footsteps and became a government forester. Only the tall trunks of mature walnuts remained standing, spaced oddly far apart.

A similar fate afflicts much of Kyrgyzstan’s forests, which make up only about 6.2 percent of the country’s land area but are rich in biodiversity. Between 2001 and 2022, the mountainous nation lost 2,470 hectares (6,100 acres) of forest cover, mainly to deforestation, overgrazing, and desertification. In recent years, climate change and development have added to the pressures facing these forests, putting rare species like Malus niedzwetzkyana, or Niedzwetzky’s apple, and Pyrus korshinskyi, or Kazak plum, and Arslanbob’s iconic walnuts at risk.

This is bad news, not only for the villagers who depend on these natural fruit forests, but for the rest of the world as well. Many of the widely- loved varieties of fruits and nuts that we enjoy today — including apples, almonds, pistachios, pomegranates, plums, apricots, cherries, peaches, pears, and, walnuts — originated from the wild species found in Arslanbob and other temperate montane forests of this region of Central Asia. At a time when domesticated strains of many of these trees are becoming increasingly susceptible to disease, these forests of crop wild relatives are a valuable genetic resource that could be critical for food security in the future.

[mitchellusa]

The joy of rain, Comes with some skin pain.

Monsoon has its own charm. And also the power to take away some beauty charms. While we sit by the window to sip our tea and watch the downpour, some spots creep up stealthily in our face. And in their creepy manner such dark spots have the power to take away our complete peace of mind. So, how to address the elephant in the room? The only way to beat the monsoon woes is the right product. Let’s spot that now!

Time to spot the Sacred Lotus

The history of the Sacred Lotus goes back a long way. The mention of this unique blossom is mentioned in ancient scriptures across the globe and also in Indian Puranas, Vedas and all scriptures. The commonality remains across cultures that the Lotus (Nelumbo Nucifera) held the secret of health, beauty and longevity. Be it in India or China it is categorically stated that Buddhist monks cherished this Sacred Lotus Flower. They cultivated Lotus blossoms in the rivers and believed it held the secret of life. They taught their disciples that the universe was formed from the heart of the Lotus Seed. And after thousands of years, we are compelled to believe that they were right.

In a UCLA study conducted by plant physiologist Jane Shen-Miller, an ancient Lotus seed germinated after lying dormant for over 1,200 years. It was the oldest seed ever found and was discovered in the 1920s in a deposit of Lotus fruits in a dry lake bed at Pulantien, China. It is ‘the oldest demonstrably viable and directly dated seed ever reported,’ according to the report in the American Journal of Botany. The seedling has been growing since March 1994, and continues to demonstrate “robust” growth. Unbelievably, the seeds had resisted the aging process for over 1000 years. While most seeds deteriorate after a few years, these lotus seeds, upwards of 1288 years, sprouted into beautiful flowers, making them the oldest seeds to germinate on record!

When dermatologists tested an extract of the Sacred Lotus seed in skin care formula, the protein repair enzyme, with a rich blend of antioxidants, it had an amazing anti-aging effect on the skin and hair. Thus germinated the idea of AGE-LESS. The crux being just like the 1288-year-old sacred lotus, anyone can rise from the mud, bloom out of darkness and radiate into the world. Though created in the USA, the Mitchell’s Age-Less range has been rediscovered and redesigned for the Indian skin.

You spot the rain. And the rain spots you back!

Though aggravated by the rainy weather, dark spots remain an annoying problem throughout the year. Dark spots are caused by the deposition of pigment or melanin, or even Sun damage, as one gets older. AGE-LESS Intensive Dark Spot Remover Fading Serum acts on all dark spots, irrespective of age and skin tone. With Sea Fern extract & Pomegranate oil, it helps maintain an even skin tone & improves elasticity of skin in just 4 weeks. So apply and see the magic happen.

Now that you are armed with the spot remover, go out and enjoy the rains full on. Or sit indoors and watch the beauty of the fresh, green landscape. There are much better things to spot than the spots on your face. So, time to enjoy the rains and let go of the pains.

[chironomy]

gentle touches. sleeping with earrings on. carrying coins in your pocket just in case. the way dogs in the street smile up at you like they can smell him on you. black leather. pomegranates. homemade protection oils. anything that shines only when you look at it just right. the rush of joy you feel when something connected with him is mentioned in regular society. singing to yourself in small quiet moments. don’t have plants? you do now. roses on your porch, herbs in your kitchen, cypress sapling on your patio, pomegranate seedlings gently pushing their way up. all the roots reach down to be closer to him. your shadow work journals strewn out on the shelf next to your bed, the map of your own underworld. days sober. the way everything in the room, now fleeting and ephemeral, turns toward him, the eternal. the brush of your consciousness past something bigger, older, wiser. the  s e n s i t i v i t y. the way his name sits so firmly in your heart and so unsteady in your mouth. whenever you say his name in the upper world you must defend him. rapist? monster? tyrant? the way he first appeared like he was going to seize you and drag you off but then didn’t. how his first task for you was to stand up to him. the way innocuous things turn out to be deep and serious weeks later. staking the cypress sapling and tying it back with twine so it can grow tall and proud for him. being responsible with all your resources because that’s how he would treat them. his steady hands. the way you change and grow with him beyond all limits you thought you had. you are mine which also means I am yours. cups of black coffee poured out over the edge of the patio, each cup marking another day of devotion. downtown trips to the library to find obscure classics journals with fleeting mentions of him. the way the escalators in the la public library feel like going down down down down down and how everything you’re looking for is at the bottom. the way he doesn’t seem bothered by menstrual blood, shit, rot --- anything a human body does. how heraclitus said that in the eyes of the gods all things are beautiful. the way socrates wasn’t afraid to die because he knew he was going to “that good and wise god.” the way your raised-catholic self sometimes fears there is a terrible price to be paid for following him, but then the opposite keeps happening. the way everything in you rises to attention for him, YES, i am here, i am listening. the sense of his smile. the way everything around him pulls in closer and deepens.

--wrote this about my own experiences, thought it might resonate with others. <3

[jessiyl]

The Smurg- Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Africa was amazing. It was large and open, with so many different landscapes to see. The jungles and the savannah were her favorites. The people were colorful and kind, with cultures that were so different from everything she was used to. Magic was used in ways she never considered before. She could really see what the appeal of a world travel would be to a young powerful wizard. In a different world, perhaps it would have been something she would have done herself.

When they finally approached the village on foot after nearly a month of travel, Draco and Hermione were immensely excited albeit exhausted. They walked in the midst of their village and were immediately surrounded by warrior wizards. It was one of the possible scenarios they anticipated while on their journey. After she recounted Voldemort’s experience, they had leaned towards the village casting first and asking questions later. Both were happily surprised they weren’t killed on sight. Something that was also on their possibility of outcome list.

Hermione and Draco had agreed that their best chance of seeing The Smurg was by not occluding or acting suspicious or secretive in any way. With that in mind, they walked into the village, minds open and their wands safely tucked in their packs. Some would call that vulnerable or foolish, but Hermione needed to see the Smurg. If she couldn’t, was there really any point in living?

Immediately, they were brought to a crude hut that could only boast the barest of walls and a thatched roof. It was not her idea of comfort, but she guessed that was the point. At least they anticipated on letting the two of them leave alive. If staying in a bare hut for a while was the price to pay to be there and try to convince the villagers that they were worthy enough to speak with the Smurg, then who was she to disparage their accommodations?

Hermione sat on the edge of a straw pallet and pulled her small beaded bag onto her lap. Draco sat heavily next to her, watching as she drew out the long thin box that they had brought as a gift to bribe their way into the Smurg’s presence.

“When do you think would be a good time to give them the gift?” Hermione mused out loud. She couldn’t have asked a better person for gift giving advice as Draco had an extensive etiquette upbringing enforced by his mother, the socialite and once debutante.

"Now, before they kill us. A gift, it may be, but don't forget this is a bribe." He smirked, looking so much like the old Draco Malfoy that Hermione was thrown back to their third year to the moment where her fist landed on his smarmy face and couldn't help but smirk in return as she remembered the way he collapsed like a card house after being disturbed by a gust of wind. Hermione focused once more on what was in front of her and rolled her eyes, knowing that though he learned etiquette from his mother, his bribery experience was completely his father’s doing.

“I guess now is as good a time as any,” She muttered and stood, turning to look at Draco as he laid out on the straw cot and closed his eyes. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

“I think you can handle giving a gift all on your own,”

“They might kill me on sight just because of what it is.”

“You are right,” He said, sitting up and concern wrinkling his brow, “don’t forget to ward the door on your way out,” he laid back down, that infuriating smirk growing the longer she fumed silently, hovering over his seemingly relaxed body. He was damn lucky that she was working on learning restraint in hexing her allies. Namely him.  

Hermione pivoted on the balls of her feet and walked out of the hut. She had taken a mere three steps before she was immediately surrounded again.

“We have brought a gift for the Smurg,” She said, holding up the small wooden box. When no one moved, she removed the lid and showed them the innocent length of wood that sat inside on a bed of velvet. A sudden intake of breath from the elders was her only indication that they recognized the unbroken and unaligned Elder Wand.

A ripple of unease swept through the villagers as the elders moved as if one to box her in against the small hut.

“How do you know about the Smurg?” a man of dark skin and shockingly white kinky hair muttered dangerously, never taking his eyes off of the deadly wand that she offered them.

“My best friend defeated Tom Riddle and our losses were incredibly high. It was he who won the allegiance of the wand and died of his injuries shortly after, leaving the wand without a master.

After the battle, there were few wizards living and I know given the chance, I could make things better for everyone. I began my research into time travel. After days of scouring through books, I was desperate and ended up going through Tom Riddle’s personal items. He kept a journal of his travels as a young man and I read about his stop here. I was hoping the Smurg could help us.”

“She isn’t a fortune teller to fix your life. Her services are for the betterment of all.”

“Would you ask her if she would see us? Please?” Hermione ignored his previous comment and remained dogged

“I can promise no more than that. If she does not wish to meet you, you both will leave.”

“Alright.” Hermione agreed and went back into the hut where Draco was already spread out on his straw cot snoring. She snorted. He wouldn’t have lasted five minutes on the hunt for Horcruxes.

She laid down to wait, hoping that the Smurg would agree to meet them. Hermione really didn’t know what she would do if they were turned away. And before she knew it, her lids weighed heavily and it was longer times between each time she blinked them open.

She was awoken by rough hands that shook her vigorously. She gasped as she reflexively reached for her wand and only hit a solid wall of muscle.

“She summons you.” A deep voice murmured.

They walked as a group towards the center hut. Hermione could feel the shimmer of spells gliding over her skin as she passed through the doorway and there the warriors stayed standing guard just inside the wards. They silently pushed her through the doorway and shut the door behind her.

Hermione was left alone in the dead of night, in a dark and warded hut, in the center of the village with no way to defend herself. Fear coiled in her stomach as she wondered if Voldemort’s journals were wrong. Perhaps the parasite needed new hosts to suck the life out of. Maybe it just told him something to make him go away. But the one thought that was niggling at the back of her mind was the date that the Smurg had given him as the date of his death was accurate.

“Come closer.” A high girlish voice beckoned.

“I don’t know the way. It’s too dark.” Hermione said.

A small ball of light appeared in the palm of the hand of a very young child. She was only five or six years old. Her long white hair hung loosely to her shoulder blades as her milky white eyes focused on Hermione’s approaching form.

Hermione was horrified, and her hand covered her mouth.

"Do not mourn for me. I may not be a normal child, but I have the lives of a thousand Smurgs in my head. I have never just been a child. I have always been the chosen. I am blessed.” The child said, voice devoid of emotion.

"I lost my childlike innocence early and I will always mourn the loss of the same in any other." Hermione stood in front of the girl who was seated on a throne made of a living tree that had been twisted as it grew into the shape of a grand and imposing living throne.

“I was told that you knew of me from a journal of Tom Riddle’s.”

“Yes.”

“He was a blight on the world but even blights are needed to strengthen future crops and the will of man. I know why you are here. I don’t think it would do any good to change this.”

“If I had the chance, I could change things for the better.”

“If you have the chance you may lose your hard-won victory.”

“This was no victory.”

“For the whole world, it was.”

“Not for my world.”

“No, I suppose it wasn’t, but it could have been a lot worse. It almost was.”

“What does that mean?”

“If your blond companion had embraced his familial role, Voldemort would have triumphed.”

“Good thing he didn’t then.”

“The world is very fortunate.”

“Tom’s journal said that everyone leaves either with a curse or a blessing. What will I leave with?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“If I send you back, can you put all of your prejudice aside?”

Hermione was indignant. She was not the prejudiced one, but after a second of reflection, she thought about it. If she went back in time, those horrible things wouldn't have happened yet. Could she set all of that aside and treat her enemies as if she was meeting them for the first time? Could she give them all a second chance?

“I would try very hard.” Hermione finally said.

The Smurg smiled in approval.

“If you had said yes, you would have been unworthy because of your lie. If you would have said no, you would have been unworthy because of your inability to do the right thing. You are worthy of my blessing.”

The Smurg smiled and reached out a fist. Hermione held her hand flat, palm up as the little girl dropped three seeds into Hermione’s hand.

“Plant them in a magical garden and watch it grow. When the seedling glows blue, you must give it a blood sacrifice. If it accepts your offering, it will bear a single piece of fruit in three days. This first fruit will have the magic in it that you seek. The barren tree left behind will eventually produce a Smurg of its own. Once the tree has its blood sacrifice, it will not be able to be undone. Do you accept the price of your blessing?”

“The Smurg will select a host among the available women?”

"The Smurg will choose its host from the family that cares for the garden it resides in. A Smurg will always choose a child."

“What would happen if I don’t offer the tree a blood sacrifice?”

“It would become an ever-bearing pomegranate tree that would sprout fruit in even the harshest winters.”

“But it would never become a Smurg.”

“Correct.”

“Thank you for your blessing. I hope you achieve great longevity.”

The little girl nodded her head with a smile and dropped the ball of light, a clear dismissal from the hut. Hermione turned and walked out blindly, heavily laden with moral conundrums. Would going back in time be a good enough reason to condemn a line of girls into hosting a powerful parasite? Hermione couldn't help thinking that it wasn't very much like a blessing at all.

Hermione gently wrapped the seeds in a silk scarf that she brought along and put it in her beaded bag. The warriors stood like sentinels around the hut only watching Hermione as she slowly made her way back to the hut that they village had given her and Draco. Once there, she crawled back onto the straw and fell asleep, hoping that her unconscious mind would give her an answer. On one hand, she could go back in time, on the other hand, she would be giving over the lives of countless girls to do it. If she went through with it, would she be any better than Voldemort?

When Hermione woke up the next morning, Draco was gone. She poked her head out of the hut and was greeted with bowls and dishes of various food, busy women and men going about their day, and children running about, freely playing together as good friends do.

Hermione joined the gathering with a smile and watched with interest, the employment of many of the people, noticing that they bowed their head and called her ‘Muumba’ as she passed. She smiled not knowing what it meant but taking social cues, she assumed it was something positive. She shrugged and moved on, hoping she would see Draco soon.

A little girl, the same age as the Smurg ran up to her and tugged on Hermione’s shirt.

“They are waiting for you, Muumba.”

“Who is?”

“Your companion and the Elders. Come.”

“What does Muumba mean?” Hermione asked curiously.

“The one in the beginning, the creator.”

Hermione sputtered in shock.

“Why are they calling me the creator?”

“You will create the new Smurg and ours will no longer be alone. They will be connected.”

“In what way?”

“The seeds are of the tree and the trees are special. Once, long ago, there were whole forests of trees and they were all connected. Not anymore. Ours is the last.” She said sadly.

“Then are all Smurg’s connected?”

“Yes. The more there are, the stronger they are, the more they can do for the world.”

“But one person has to give up her whole life for it. Why are the hosts always girls?”

“The chosen are gifted extremely long lives; the only sacrifice is their innocence. They grow knowing the best and worst of the world. Girls are the bearers of life, so are the Smurg’s.”

“Their only sacrifice…” Hermione spat. “Innocence should not be an acceptable sacrifice.”

“She gains much and only one of us is chosen. The rest of us are blessed to protect her. She lives a satisfying life.”

“But is she happy?”

“What is happiness? Happiness is not the same for everyone and is not the same thing throughout one's life. ”

“How did you become so wise in your young life?”

“We are taught the lessons of the tree. The Smurg sings the songs of a time where they were many. We learn from her.”

They reached the small enclosure that the little girl gestured to, bidding Hermione to enter.

“Aren’t you coming too?” Hermione asked the little girl.

“Only the blessed may enter here.”

“And you are not blessed?”

“Not everyone can be worthy.”

“But you protect her.”

“We are still human, and we have our own fears and vices. Very few are actually worthy. We celebrate because two have come to us. The Muumba and the Mlinzi.”

“What is the Mlinzi?”

“He is the protector.”

“The protector of the Smurg? Will he be forced to stay?”

“He will sire daughters who will host the new Smurg. His tribe will protect her. He will protect the tree. The Smurg has already seen it.”

“I don’t believe in prophecy.”

“Neither do we.”

“What does that even mean?” Hermione asked, frustrated.

The little girl walked away with an enigmatic little smile. Hermione frowned as she watched the dark-skinned child rejoin her playmates before turning around and walking into the hut. Draco was sitting in a circle with five other people. Their ages varied from ancient to child. Draco smirked, enjoying Hermione’s confusion. He patted the ground next to him in the same manner that she had that day in his library, his eyes danced with humor.

“Come in Granger, we were just about to begin.”

“Begin what?”

“Breakfast.”

“Right.”

The moment she sat down, two women joined the group carrying bowls and flasks filled with food and drink.

Their day went by fast, the whole village was welcoming and celebratory. It wasn’t often that they entertained guests and even less when those guests were blessed. It was a lovely day spent before they left in the morning.

Their trip back to Malfoy Manor was much quicker and easier. Since they had already visited several waypoints, they were able to apparate back to Wiltshire in four short bursts. Tanzania to Algeria, Algeria to Spain, Spain to France, and France to Wiltshire.

**HG**

Hermione and Draco were in the small sitting room off of the conservatory, each laying on a couch on opposite sides of each other.

“What did she tell you?” Hermione asked.

“She asked me if I had to do it all over again would I make the same decision to flee the Manor.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I wasn’t sure. I don't think my father would have been forced to kill me. The Dark Lord was fond of forcing his followers into doing things they didn't want to do to test their loyalty. Often they had to go through with whatever he came up with but sometimes, especially in the case involving pureblooded children, they did not. Although, my mother would have been killed and I couldn't have survived losing her that way."

"The Smurg likes indecisive people." She snorted.

“Mmm.” He agreed.

"She gave me seeds but if I use them to go back in time, it will create a new Smurg. I don't think I can condemn innocent children to that fate."

“Did she tell you why she looks the way she does and why she is blind?”

“It’s part of being the host for the Smurg, right?”

“No. She was born blind and the hair was an abnormality. She is actually the great niece of the previous Smurg. Did you know that the last Smurg wasn't born blind?  They claimed she was one of the happiest people they had ever met."

“What are you trying to tell me?”

"I'm trying to show you that you are as blind about the Smurg as you are about House-elves. You are pushing your thoughts and feelings onto them without considering what makes them happy. Your happiness is not the same as theirs."

Hermione stared at him in shock. That was basically what the little girl in the village had told her.

“So, you would be okay with having your daughter be the host of a new Smurg.”

“Sure, it’s a great honor.”

“Did she give you seeds?”

"No, she told me who my future wife would be and that she would give me five children, three of them, girls."

“What’s her name?”

“Ginevra Weasley.”

Hermione drew in a great breath and held it, desperately trying to hold back a sob. With an angry release, she narrowed her gaze.

“Ginny would never in a million years chose you over Harry,”

“If you go back, things will change, she will marry me. That is what the Smurg said.”

“If I go, Ginny lives to marry you?”

“Yes. I don’t know how or why but that is what was promised.”

“How did you take that, being told you would marry a Weasley?” Hermione snickered.

“Relieved and mildly intrigued.”

They chuckled for a moment. Draco rolled onto his side, a hand under his head as a pillow.

“If you stay, this is what the rest of our life will look like. You’re decent Granger but I would only marry you out of duress. We would be like siblings and would fight all the time. We would waste our lives searching for a way to go back in time without the severe consequences of the time turners. I don't think that is possible. So, tell me, is your life so great here with me that you can't let me go?"

“This is not about you, Malfoy. This is about your children and how they deserve a proper childhood.”

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

“But we cannot forget the man for the crowd.”

“I see we are at an impasse.” He said flopping on his back.

“I don’t even know if I can control the year. What if I end up in the founders’ era?”

“I think it will take you where you can do the most good.”

“You have a lot of faith in this. Why?”

“Do you know what the tree portion of the Smurg is called?”

She shook her head.

“It is an Ent. They used to be all over the world. My father used to tell me stories about the Ents when I was a kid. I don’t know how accurate they are, but I used to love them.”

“Don’t Ent’s walk?”

“The Smurg walks not the Ent. Ent’s are rooted to the ground. They are trees for goodness sake. Merlin, Granger!" He huffed as if he had to explain something obvious that a two-year-old would know. She stayed quiet, lips thinning in silent disapproval thinking of all the Tolkienesque dreams that were now shattered. "What I am trying to say is that this doesn't seem so out of the ordinary for me. I grew up in a world of magic. It’s all I’ve ever known, and magic is fluid and unpredictable. Not everything can be explained or reasoned out. Some things just are. Do you reason out the cause and effects of jumping into a lake? Your body oils could kill the ecosystem, but you go swimming anyway.”

“I can either choose to jump or to stand still.”

“Exactly.”

“What would you do?”

“Me? I would jump.”

**HGHG**

Hermione stood on a slight rise in the west gardens of Malfoy Manor. A unicorn watched from the field on the other side of the low hedge, a dazzling white among the sea of green. Hermione looked down at the silk cloth she clutched in her hand. It was time to make a decision. Was she going to sacrifice the lives of generations of Malfoy girls to come and go into the past, or was she going to plant a tree that will bear fruit year-round and stay to have Draco’s children?

She unfolded the material and stared at the seeds. Guilt twisted in her stomach, her decision was made days ago when she talked to Malfoy about it in the conservatory. The only problem was that she just wasn’t prepared to knowingly sacrifice someone else so that she could go back in time. She would gladly lay down her own life for her friends but for her to offer up another’s life? It was a hard pill to swallow.

Gritting her teeth, Hermione gently poked the seeds into the hole that Draco had dug for her and covered it before sitting on the ground to wait. Malfoy brought her a tray of sandwiches and a thermos of tea after the first hour.

“Thanks.” She murmured, digging into the first sandwich.

They sat silently chewing and watching in bemusement as the seeds sprouted at an accelerated pace. The tiny seedling grew fast. It wasn’t long before a sapling stood where before it was merely a covered hole.

It pulsed with a strong blue iridescence that shone from the very core of the tree. Hermione took a deep breath, this was it. She was going to do it.

“Diffindo," Hermione muttered, slicing her hand open before cupping the welling blood. The pulse seemed to feel her blood and small wispy tendrils reached out from its trunk. The delicate lines snaked around her wrist and writhed just above her exposed wound. It was as if it were waiting for her consent. Hermione rubbed the soft bark, coating it with her blood.

"I'm sorry, so sorry." She muttered. Not to the tree, to it, she was bestowing life, but to the hosts that haven't even been born yet.

Once the blue light faded she pulled her hand back and let the remaining drops of blood drip from her fingertips, splashing onto the grass.  

Malfoy grabbed her hand, healed and cleaned it, before letting it drop back to her side.

“All we have to do now is wait.” He said. She nodded. She had three days to get her shit together.

**HGHG**

The first thing that Malfoy insisted on was visiting Gringotts, but Hermione was understandably hesitant. She had stolen something from one of the vaults that they protected. She was expecting to be murdered the moment she crossed the threshold. He waved away her concerns with a ringing laugh.

"Look, Granger, I promise that they won't attack you."

In the end, he won, and Hermione was now standing in a back office of one of the head goblins, with Malfoy lounging arrogantly in one of the seats by the desk.

“We don’t know what time she will arrive in, but she needs to have access to funds.”

"Almost all of her assets were seized as a fine for her theft, as was quite a bit of the Potter wealth. Upon the death of Harry James Potter, Hermione Jean Granger acquired the remaining Potter and Black fortunes. The remaining totaling five million galleons, various jewels, and artifacts that are detailed in full on this list." The Goblin handed over a thick ream of paper.

Malfoy plucked it out of her hand and began studying her assets.

“What I am asking is, is it possible to make this available to her at any time? In any time?"

“Not these treasures in particular but we have ancient vaults with no living relatives to claim them. We would choose a familial vault that is worth the same as her current vault. We would only need to set the inclusion wards. Once that is done, it won’t matter when she comes, just that she does first thing. The Goblins of the time, will give you no trouble. We have policies in place."

"And the fee?"

"A Goblin-made artifact that would be signed over to me specifically." A greedy glint entered his eye.

“Only if everything is changed over first.”

“Alright.”

“I also wish to bequeath the contents of vault thirty-four to Miss Hermione Jean Granger.”

Surprise colored the faces of the other two.

“It is my wish to see Granger well taken care of in her endeavor.” Malfoy finished.

“Very well.”

With little more discussion, the paperwork was signed, and Hermione was the proud owner of Vault Seven. The vault of the lost house of Slytherin.

They rode the deathtrap that the goblins affectionately called the cart to the lowest and oldest section of Gringotts. The minecart flipped and rolled and spun, going fast and slow at different intervals making Hermione quite ill. By the time they reached vault seven, Hermione was seriously considering kissing the ground.

Her eyes went wide as she looked at the large red chimera guarding the entrance. The goblin rang a tiny high-pitched bell that made the chimera cringe away from the trio.

Using his gnarled finger, the goblin turned over the vault to Hermione, her blood and magical signature now marking it as hers. The door melted away as she stood staring at a great amassment of treasure.

"Everything has been cataloged and put on a new list that I will send to you." The goblin said looking at Malfoy.

Malfoy nodded before turning to look into the newly opened vault.

He looked just as entranced as Hermione did as they studied rare tomes, wands, jewels the size of eggs, mounds and mounds of galleons, and other oddities.

"You are a very wealthy witch," Draco mumbled, running his fingers over the neglected leather spines of the books.

Hermione scooped up some of the galleons and retreated. She had to keep reminding herself that she was able to access this at any time.

Once they were back up to the main lobby, the Goblin stopped them and pulled Hermione close enough so that the other goblins wouldn’t be able to hear what he said.

“You adopted the name Slytherin to get that vault. Do not forget that. It is a very powerful name with many advantages and consequences. Good luck Miss Slytherin and don’t break into any more vaults.”

Hermione stood in shock. It was a perverse kind of irony. Malfoy shook his head muttering unintelligibly under his breath.

“Well, you won’t have to convince anyone of your blood status.” He whispered to her as they stepped out onto the deserted street. Diagon Ally was a caricature of what it used to be. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes stood abandoned, the bright purple paint starting to peel on the north face of the building.

Hermione spent the next day and a half packing, unpacking, and repacking everything she planned on taking with her. She exchanged the small beaded bag for a newer yet identical one that Malfoy found among his mother’s possessions. She perfected the undetectable extension charm and with Malfoy’s help, she turned the whole thing into organized chaos. By the time the small pomegranate from the tree was ready to be eaten, Hermione was overprepared.

[growingstoriesandgardens]

9/27/22- Pomegranate seedlings, first progress shot! Gonna to an interesting thing here and update this lil guy continuously. About a month or so ago, got myself a pomegranate and saved up some of the seeds, and these are the result. One day the hope is they become bonsais, and one grows into a tree maybe for fruit.

10/2/22- a few more sets of leaves, growing really strong and healthy! They are growing so fast and I'm glad they seem to like my grow light situation...cause they'll be there till it warms up in spring.

10/12/23- More leafs, continuing to grow well! Though I do maybe notice it beginning to slow which makes sense. It's cold enough to freeze at night and even though it's at room temp, the light from the window probably has begun to make them slow down growth for winter. And I'm fine with that, these do naturally have a cold period and while they don't need it, taking a break from growing in the winter won't hurt them.

Or, as far as I know. Have no experience growing these till now so fingers crossed!

With that, think that will conclude this post for now. If there's any more significant change I'll get a pic. If not, you'll see more of these guys in the Spring.