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Chapter 20: A Slytherin Sleepover
Hermione was surprised - and a little alarmed - to be met at the head of the dungeon staircase by Daphne and Pansy.
"Pleased you could make it, Gra … Hermione. I hope you enjoy your time with us." Said Pansy.
It all sounded a bit forced, like a five-year-old compelled by its parents into greeting an unpopular maiden aunt, but at least Pansy had kept her wand at bay - and her even more vicious tongue. She took Hermione's overnight bag and led the way down the stairs.
It's true; Daphne Greengrass was silliness personified, as well as being none too bright and easily led, but she wasn't a nasty person at heart. Seeing Hermione's anxious face, she let Pansy walk on ahead and then nudged Hermione and whispered,
"Don't look so worried. It'll be fun! She got herself in heaps of trouble this week; she'll be on her best behaviour!"
oOo
Hermione stood in the doorway of the fourth-year girls' dorm; it was nothing like she'd expected. The wallpapered walls were a light mint green with a vaguely oriental floral design. The cream carpet was deep and comfortable underfoot. The fireplace was decorated with what seemed like a million little stars floating around the mantelpiece. The beds had pretty eiderdowns and everywhere was festooned with the detritus of teenaged girls - posters, curling tongs, magazines, lipsticks, a gazillion pots of nail polish, silk scarves, soft toys and note books. It all looked so … normal and welcoming. Hermione wasn't sure what she'd expected. Perhaps black ebony wood paired with harsh emerald green satin, all scarily tidy and an abused little house elf in the corner poised to scurry and pick up Pansy's shoes as she carelessly kicked them off?
The Gryffindor sank down into a plump, yellow and white striped armchair - and leapt up straight away. "Ouch!" She'd sat on the heel of a pink, fluffy mule.
"That's where it went!" Pansy said as she reached over and snatched it. "I thought Snape had thrown it out; he thinks that the wearing of stilettos or kitten heals is fifteen seconds away from a life of promiscuity." Huffed the dark-haired girl.
Hermione looked down and noticed that all the Slytherin girls had dispensed with their shoes and were padding around in socks or slippers.
"Oh! I forgot to bring my slippers …" she said as she tugged on her laces.
"Well, don't think you can borrow mine." Pansy snapped.
"I didn't!" Squeaked Hermione.
"No one can borrow mine." Pansy continued, "My feet are far too big. My shoes are even too big for Millicent. Imagine that."
"Thanks a million, Pansy!" Said Millicent, who looked at Hermione, then Pansy and rolled her eyes.
"Your feet don't look big to me, Pansy." Said Hermione.
"They are; they're huge. Mother says so. She says I've got my great aunt Cecily's feet and look how she ended up - no man would go near her."
"Shall I tell Snape you're having another foot crisis?" Asked Millicent, "You know how patient and understanding he'll be!"
Actually, reflected Pansy, he had been - so get stuffed Millicent.
Pansy had returned to Hogwarts in September with feet a size bigger and shoes two sizes smaller - her awful mother's revenge for her daughter's feet being so terminally disappointing. Snape had seen her pained walk and taken her immediately to Hogsmeade for new shoes. Afterwards they'd taken tea at Madam Puddifoot's, where he assured her that once she'd finished growing, her feet would be in perfect proportion to her height. Next, he'd narrowed his eyes and made it known that if she was even contemplating something so foolish as dieting, he'd request a wooden spoon from Madam Puddifoot and use it on her right there in the middle of the tea rooms. Pansy got stuck into the scones and French fancies and had a wonderful hour and a half with her housemaster.
A lovely memory to have and Pansy treasured it but, of course, Millicent was right. Pansy had gone on to exhaust Snape's good will with her unauthorised shopping spree at Fenella's Fabulous Footwear Emporium this last week, so she gave up on her pouting and handed Hermione a pair of pink spotty slippers.
"Let's go!" She said, "And Millicent? Don't forget Elsa's present."
oOo
Hermione stood at the top of the girls' stairs and looked straight across at Harry on the boys' stairs. She smiled, he waved, and they both took a few moments to stand in utter disbelief at finding themselves happy and excited - in Slytherin House! Their communication was restricted to facial movements, hand gestures and waving for the simple reason that the dungeons were positively jumping!
Music was blaring discordantly from two antiquated gramophones prompting some quite frenetic dance displays, Malfoy appearing especially fleet of foot. Sixth-year Jemima Deacon also kept time to the music - and did so whilst stood on a table throwing chocolate-covered almonds for the sixth-year boys to catch with their mouths. Hermione snorted with laughter watching Snape struggling to get on grip on shimmying Jemima to lift her down. With no dominatrix to lead them, the boys shrugged, laughed and wandered over to where Miles Bletchley had foolishly challenged all comers to test his wrestling prowess - and was being soundly trounced by Millicent Bulstrode. Though it must be said, he appeared to be rather enjoying it.
Harry jerked his head towards the party, 'Shall we?' he mouthed. But he was too late; Malfoy had shot up the girls' stairs and pulled Hermione down to join him on the dance floor, where Daphne and Pansy were currently being sashayed and dipped to the music by Slytherin's resident dreamboats - AB and Latimer. Harry burst out laughing and leant against the stone architrave to cast his gaze upon all until he could decide which group to join.
Next, Tracey Davis leapt up from her seat declaring she wanted to dance and Harry was suddenly torn between offering himself as a partner and going to cheer on Millicent, who'd now wrangled Bletchley into a half nelson and was pressing him to submit. The fleeting pleasure of the divine Miss Davis, or the solid - in all senses of the word - dependability of Millicent? The agony of choice was wrenched away from him as his eyes focused on two long, black legs striding toward him.
"Potter. There's a twelve-year-old girl over there who's never had a birthday party and is wondering what she's done to deserve it. Perhaps you'd like to explain matters and encourage her to enjoy herself? Something tells me you'll know what to say."
Harry felt oddly touched that Snape had made mention of his less than desirable upbringing; it was so often glossed over by other professors. He was about to assure Snape that he'd do just that, but the man was heading to the other side of the room.
"Miss Bulstrode! Do stop sitting on Bletchley's head!"
oOo
The birthday girl chose dinner that night, which didn't go down well with everyone as Elsa Tobin was rather fond of cabbage. But they still had fun sitting cross-legged with plates on their laps - taking turns to distract Snape so the older students could evanesco their vegetables. Arno Van Den Berg kept them all entertained with a series of very tall tales about what he and Harriett Walsh had got up to on their illicit trip to Hogsmeade. Everyone knew he was pulling their legs, including Snape, but that didn't stop the housemaster from looking thunderous over his coffee - and promising Arno some extended one-to-one time in his study should any of his tales be revealed to have the slightest whiff of truth to them.
At the expectant looks from first-years, Snape plastered a comically downcast look on his face and broke the news that the latest decree from the Ministry of Magic came through just that afternoon: birthday cake was banned. However, he informed them, those that were still hungry could help themselves to all the evanesco'd cabbage that was most probably sitting outside the common room door. The young ones groaned, but the older years knew their housemaster too well and laughed. It wasn't long before the party was back in full swing.
oOo
"Oh, go on sir! Please, please!"
Snape was unsure.
"You really want to do this?"
"Yes! It's great fun!"
"What do you mean 'it's great fun'? Exactly how many times have you done this?"
"Blabbermouth!" Draco poked Archie in the shoulder.
"Perfectly safe, sir. We've only had three cracked skulls this year!" Zabini grinned at Snape's look of alarm.
"Let me guess; Pucey was the prefect on duty those nights?" Snape tutted and then eyed the first years around him, "Bizarre children! Right! Fifteen knut limit. Keep an eye on the door, Latimer; if Professor Dumbledore hears of this, I'll find myself demoted to scrubbing pots alongside the kitchen elves."
Then he saw Hermione. She squared her shoulders and looked straight at him.
"What goes on in Slytherin, stays in Slytherin, sir. And my 15 knuts is on Malfoy and Elsa."
The first-years raced to the under-the-lake window and stood next to a long velvet curtain each with their 'wrangler' - a student from the middle or upper years.
"Not you too, Armitage-Brown?" Asked Snape.
AB ducked his head, and then assured his housemaster that it was the perfect exercise for practising wand control. Snape shook his head and wondered just how much time he had to spend in the common room to keep track of all his Snakes' extra-curricular diversions.
Sophie Blishwick, it appeared, was the resident bookmaker. Snape had previously thought her upstanding to the point of priggish. He gave another shake of his head as she called for final bets to be placed and announced that a 'reverse slither' winner would earn a double payout. At this point, he gave up and sank back into his armchair; his house was obviously well-versed in this un-sanctioned sport.
"Ready? Set? Go!"
The first-years, who had been hunkered down, leapt upwards. The wranglers focussed furiously on their wands and got their little Snake 'attached' to the curtain. Some, like Archie and Elsa, were spun around 180 degrees so that they ascended feet first. The older students had to magic the younger ones up the length of the curtain using only their wands. Scrutineers watched on to make sure no little Snake was pulling themselves up with their hands.
"Hands well away from the curtain, Alicia!" Called Theo Nott.
Snape, Harry and Hermione looked on amazed at the concentration and effort this demanded, and the three of them jumped in unison when Millicent sneezed and Malcolm Baddock plunged six feet down the curtain. Hermione was willing on Malfoy and Elsa, Harry was cheering for Archie and AB, and Snape assured them both they'd wasted their fifteen knuts - obviously Gabriel Brabic and Bletchley were going to win.
"Keep your toes pointed, Archie!" Called AB, "There's less resistance that way."
Malfoy gave a smug, little smile as Elsa Tobin stayed level pegging with Gabriel Brabic for first place. Four feet from the top of the curtains and he suddenly gave the order for Elsa to peel off her woolly jumper. Underneath it she wore a satin camisole and with the drag of wool against the velvet of the curtains removed, little Elsa shot to the top, bumping into the curtain pole.
"Yes! Excellent move Elsa and Draco!" Hermione shouted, before turning around to crow at Harry and Snape.
"Congratulations, Miss Granger." Sniffed Snape, "You must have earned yourself close to seventy knuts; however will you spend such a vast fortune?!"
Two more curtain races followed, though for the last one, Snape banned reverse slithers in light of Elsa, Archie, and Malcolm's heads having turned scarlet with the increased blood flow. The woozy first-years descended, Snape exacted a promise that the curtain racing wouldn't take place again in his absence, and all at once, the candles flickered and went out, followed by the fire fizzling. Everyone in the room felt the thrill of suddenly being plunged into darkness, then a gasp came as through the doorway a huge candlelit cake was carried in.
Hermione felt something brush against her leg and gave a shriek. Looking up at the approaching cake, she saw two yellowish eyes framed by straggly grey hair - Mr Filch! But most bizarrely of all, she listened as he broke into a scratchy warble …
"Happy birthday to you! You were born in a zoo! With the elephants and the monkeys - and you look like one too!"
"Make a wish, Miss Tobin." Instructed Snape as he pulled Elsa to stand between his legs and blow out the candles on the cake. Wish accomplished, Elsa blew out the candles. The wall sconces flamed back into life and the fire re-lit. Elsa and her crew all gasped at the huge multi-coloured cake, while the older girls smiled indulgently at them.
"Madam Puddifoot's finest," commented Pansy, "Any-Flavour Cake - you point your wand at it and the slice turns into whatever flavour you wish for."
"I've never heard of it!" Said Hermione.
"We only have the best in Slytherin." Sniffed Pansy.
Harry and Vincent Crabbe both pulled a face behind her back and Hermione giggled.
After the cake came the presents. The lower years presented her with a magical photo album of their adventures thus far - Snape wasn't allowed to look.
"You really don't want to, sir." Assured AB.
"Don't I? Why don't I? What's in that photo album?!"
Snape was getting rattled and the entire common room - including Mr Filch - was enjoying his uncharacteristic display of nerves immensely.
"Oh, nothing against the school rules, sir … well, nothing that used to be against them …"
If your aim is to wind someone up, then choose your most upstanding citizen to do it! AB was having a fine, old time. He stood behind Snape's chair and winked at all the Snakes.
"I must say sir, Hogwarts has really changed, so many rules against this and that now. Thank Merlin Slytherin House is a traditional house; we cleave to the old ways here!"
Urquhart joined in.
"That's right, AB! I mean, what's wrong with casting a few Toe Biter jinxes at the Hufflepuffs? Toughens them up a bit; they should be grateful to us! I say it's just a good old-fashioned method of character building!"
"Indeed." Purred Snape, "I have my own old-fashioned methods too, don't forget!"
Snape was wrong to have tried to persuade himself against this sleepover; he was in his element. So satisfying to have once-timid first-years grow up before your eyes and end up gently teasing you - one of the great rewards of raising children. He looked down at Elsa, shyly laughing along with AB and Urquhart; how would she change in the coming years? Then again, thinking about some of his students and what awaited them in adulthood wasn't a cheery prospect. He abandoned his thoughts there for another time; they weren't suitable party fodder.
The older girls had made her a patchwork comforter, a striped and floral affair in silk. They'd scrounged spare Slytherin ties from somewhere and cut them up and sewn them in a checkerboard fashion with something that Snape thought looked suspiciously like the curtain that used to hang between the fourth and fifth-year girls' dorms. It wasn't the greatest bit of craftsmanship - precious few of the patched corners actually met neatly and to disguise this, they'd covered the worst joins with Slytherin school badges. Elsa loved it.
The older boys had clubbed together to buy her a camera,
"You'll have to fill up lots more albums with that!" Malfoy winked.
"And I'll put a Disillusionment Charm on them for you; Professor Snape will never find them!" Said Harry.
Snape let the cheekiness pass - with a cuff around both ears. Then he reached behind his chair to pull out the gift from himself and the prefects. The box bore the enticing legend, Never-ending Supply of Gnat Heads and Blind-Worm Stings. Elsa worked hard to pull up the corners of her mouth and attempt a smile,
"I love it!" She exclaimed weakly.
"You nitwit! Open it!" Said Snape.
From the box came a pair of furry slippers fashioned in the form of puppies. They panted excitedly when Elsa pulled them on, whimpered forlornly when she took them off and began tickling her feet when she stood still for too long. Snape found them perfectly hideous, but had rightly surmised that they were the kind of non-essential tosh that little girls adored. An aggrieved face appeared over his shoulder.
"They came from Fenella's Fabulous Footwear Emporium; I saw them there! You said that shop was banned to all Slytherins!"
"You're right, Miss Parkinson. I shall sit myself in the corner all night!"
"From Mrs Norris."
Filch pressed a huge brown paper sack full of sweets into Elsa's arms. Snape knew they'd been confiscated by the crabby caretaker; the 'gift' probably contained some of Elsa's own sweets. But just like Filch, Snape was a proud Northerner who'd been born and bred on the notion of 'waste not, want not'; he heartily approved.
"That's a mountain of sweets!" Exclaimed Hermione. "I wonder if there's a spell to make a piñata?"
"What's a piñata?" Asked Snape.
"It's a container made from papier mâché …"
"Hmm … that's do-able."
"It is?" Said Hermione.
"What happens then?" Asked Snape.
"Well, you fill it with the sweets, suspend it in the air and bash it blindfolded with a stick. Elsa gets the first turn and then others have a go. It's not as easy as it sounds! Elsa, what animal do you want the piñata to be?"
"Hang on," Interrupted Malfoy, "we tie this thing up and bash it with a stick? Then forget what animal she wants. The question surely should be what person she wants? And I say 'Potter'!"
"Aha ha ha … ha ha ha ha … achingly funny, as usual Malfoy." Groaned Harry.
But Malfoy was onto something. Each person there sank into a few seconds of silent contemplation. Snape would like a crack at Dumbledore - for discounting the marvellous children in his house. Hermione could definitely give Ron a few hearty whacks - for selling himself short and feeling aggrieved far too easily. Harry thought of Seamus - for his mean-spiritedness in encouraging Ron's weaker points. A cop-out, he knew, but Ron was still his best mate. Malfoy wavered between giving Lucius a licking and all the nameless, faceless types that had led his father astray. Millicent would've liked the full collection of Slytherin's worst parents to be hung up from the ceiling, so she could have at them - for a very long time - with the stick.
And Pansy? She thought immediately of her mother, but then got so scared to even think of confronting her that she fell back on feeling peeved about the whole shoe situation. Even though Snape made her feel nothing but safe - or more likely, because of that fact. She smirked as she imagined a papier mâché Snape bent over his bloody sofa and her bashing it with his slipper.
"I wonder if I can guess whom you are imagining, Miss Parkinson?!"
"Too easy, sir! I'm imagining all those dreadful girls that wear high-healed shoes!"
No one's fantasy came into being; Elsa Tobin wanted a cat. Mister Filch took that as his cue to leave, not wanting Mrs Norris to be offended.
At the discreet flick of Snape's wand, sweets showered down on Elsa's second attempt at the piñata. Alarmed at seeing so much sugar-guzzling taking place, everyone was sent off to change into their pyjamas and bring their mattresses through to the common room. He banned the upper years from helping the younger ones levitate their mattresses, and his plan worked out. The effort of levitating counteracted the sugar rush and no sooner had the lower years found a spot for their mattresses, than they were fast asleep upon them.
The sight of sleeping children calmed everyone down. Pansy waved her wand to lower the brightness of the candles, then walked to Elsa, brushed the hair from her face and whispered, "I hope your birthday wish comes true." Snape watched her as he leant on the mantelpiece. Then he turned his gaze and feasted on the sight of Crabbe and Goyle tucking blankets under lower school chins; he saw Granger entranced by the same sight - do your job and report this back, young lady, he thought. AB and Pucey cast muffling charms and everyone moved to the quiet reading area.
"Had fun?" Snape asked Malfoy.
"Oh, I just like to see the younger ones enjoy themselves, sir." He replied.
Snape thought back to Malfoy's energetic dance display, his delight at winning the curtain race and his zeal with the piñata.
"It's good of you to be so indulgent," he said.
If only Malfoy had peered deeper into the shadows, he'd have seen his housemaster smiling far wider than he ever had under the Cheering Charm. Snape continued watching as Malfoy went to sit on the arm of Hermione's chair and Millicent and Harry pushed a sofa closer so the four of them could chat without waking the younger students.
"If you came along tonight to try and snag a ball date, Granger, you're out of luck." Said Malfoy.
"I did no such thing!"
She saw too late the grins on Harry, Millicent and Malfoy's faces and blushed at her strident response.
"Why would I be out of luck? Are none of you going?"
"Oh, we're going alright." Answered Millicent, "Didn't want to at first, but now we can't wait! It's funny; things like that seem to have changed lately."
"Well if you're all going, why would I have no chance of a Slytherin date? Aren't I good enough?"
They all knew she was referring to Malfoy's 'mudblood' comment of the second-year, but Hermione was queen of the poker faces; they had no idea if she was still upset or not. Malfoy groaned and then steeled himself to speak.
"Granger, if I apologise for the offense, can we please draw a line under it?"
"Maybe." Then her face cracked into a smirk.
"Hermione Granger," Said Malfoy, "I am sorry that you annoyed me so much I felt compelled to use the 'm' word. I shall never do it again - no matter how tiresome you may be!"
"You arse!" Laughed Hermione, as she swatted him on the thigh.
"What's going on?" Asked Nott, who flopped down next to Millicent.
"Granger's angling for someone to take her to the ball." Said Malfoy.
"Sorry." Goyle had lumbered over, "I'm already taken."
Everyone's eyes widened with mirth at Gregory Goyle's innocent refusal.
"Thanks anyway, Gregory."
But Hermione wasn't being sneery; she was touched. If only they were like this all the time. She said as much and was presented with a stark enquiry from Millicent.
"When Potter invited you tonight, did you really want to come?"
She wouldn't lie.
"No. But I'm glad I did."
Millicent thought for a moment and then replied.
"You took a chance; more of us should do that."
"Still date-less though, Granger!" Said Malfoy.
"Says you!" And Hermione remained tight-lipped.
Snape was so pleased with what he'd overheard that he rewarded them all by allowing them to stay up beyond the midnight bed-time he'd originally set. As the night wore on and they grew tired, they gravitated to sitting around him.
"Did I ever tell you about the time the Ministry of Magic came to inspect the school? It was back in 1984 …"
Actually, he'd told them the story plenty of times; it was a House favourite. Pucey's older sister, Emmy, was in a strop with Snape and had coated the inside of every cauldron in the dungeon with Bloodroot and Pearl Dust. Harry and all the others cackled as Snape recounted how the inspectors had looked on with mounting horror as so-called 'Potions Expert Snape' made a hash of demonstration after demonstration. His Confusing Concoction turned to a grey, viscous sludge; his Boil Cure sizzled a hole in the bottom of the cauldron and when his Burn-Healing Paste bubbled alarmingly and then erupted like molten lava, the inspectors fled the room.
Snape continued to spin the Slytherins' favourite tales of elder siblings and cousins and the times they'd pulled one over on him. They knew he embroidered the details - they had the unvarnished accounts in the Slytherin Bible - but were more than happy to go along with the subterfuge. Hermione leant back onto Millicent and realised she had a lot to thank Lavender for. This night had been perfect.