A/N: Myrtle spies on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Dedicated to Lamia for inspiring me.
Submission for:
Bellatrix Lestrange: The Dark Lord's Most Faithful: Challenge #113 - Ghosts
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
"Next time, Weasley, make sure the bludger is actually near my head before you swing at it," a deep voice sounded from somewhere above her, accompanied by the creaking of an opening door.
"Sure thing, boss," two voices chorused, a deep chuckle rumbling in their chests as their heavy footsteps followed behind the first set.
There were more voices now, all male, as they chatted about their recent practice, ridding themselves of the now sweaty pieces of clothing they wore.
"But you don't have to worry, Oliver," another voice said, his voice just a bit higher than the others. "With those new plays you ran through today, there's no way we'll lose against the Slytherins next month."
"Shush!" the first voice shouted. "Be quiet about that. We don't know if anyone's in here yet."
There was the opening and closing of more doors before the chatter began again.
"You're being paranoid, Oliver. There's no one in here but us," someone said before the sound of the shower heads began to bounce around the white tiled walls.
She rose now, able to get a good view of the muscular, nude physiques of the Gryffindor Quidditch team facing away from her. Their hair was soaked from the spray of the shower, the water running down their toned backs and chests, their taut buttocks and off their pronounced calves before spiraling down the drain.
She let out a little giggle, feeling her face growing hot as they soaped their bodies. But her giggle alerted one of the boys, the paranoid one, who began to turn just as she floated through the ceiling.
"Did you hear something?" Oliver asked, his head whipping around to locate its source.
"You're hearing things, Oliver," one of the twin voices responded before they all returned to their showers.