Title: The (Fairy) Godfather
Author: Antidisestablishmentarianist / Kitty-kitty
Disclaimer: Not mine. All characters belong to JK Rowling, Warner Bros.
Scholastic, Bloomsbury and Raincoat books.
Rating: PG for cross-dressing poor Severus.
Author note: Two more chapters! WAIIIII! I feel pretty, oh so pretty... you're probably wondering what on earth's going on. Poor Poppy, she really needs a date. THANK YOU REVIEWERS! I'll have to thank you all next time (sorry, I'm in such a rush! It's all go!) So… no further ado… chapter ten!
Chapter Ten
I told you so
… that is… adamant until faced with the cool stare of Poppy Pomfrey on a bad day.
"And where do you think you are going? You're not coming into my hospital wing in that state!" she said, placing her hands on her waist and rocking gently back and forth on the balls of her feet as she surveyed him with serious distaste.
"Rrrowr?" said Crookshanks hopefully, baring his teeth in a smile that was the downfall of angels and saints (at least, the female ones.) In assembled beds around the hospital wing, girls in various states of sickness and spell-illness sat up and took notice of the chancer in robes a size too small.
"Rowr nothing!" exclaimed Poppy. "Look at you! You're a mess! You're scruffy, filthy – is that an insect in your hair? Your robes leave nothing to the imagination and for goodness sake, man! You're not even wearing socks or shoes! Get out of my hospital wing! OUT! Have a shave, have a shower and have a thorough think about your direction in life. THEN, I just might let you into this place. Even then, only to have a look at those unsightly scars! Urgh! Shoo!"
Behind the curtain of the furthest bed of the hospital wing, Ron scrawled something on a notepad and held it up to Hermione, who read it and nodded. "Don't worry, you'll get your voice back soon," she said soothingly. "Of course I'll go and see what the fuss is about. Now, you stay here and- … sorry… I didn't mean it cruelly."
Ron looked slightly hurt. For the past four days he'd been incapacitated in the hospital wing without use of legs or vocal chords. His only comfort had been that Harry fiercely defended him on every visit from any onslaught of 'Oh, just wandered past, Ron… thought I would pay you a call… oh, those are nice curtains! They used to have curtains like that in Ravenclaw, but the hippogriff ate them…' remarks from Luna. Now even Hermione was making cruel jokes.
"Madame Pomfrey's shouting at some dreadful looking seventh year in … strangely familiar looking robes … hang on… those are my robes!" whispered Hermione furiously, peering around the curtains. "Wait… no, they're not. They still are quite familiar. Gosh, isn't he-"
Her face was scrunched up in an expression of distaste as though she couldn't quite find the right words to use to describe the sight before her. Ron watched as, beyond her and the … quite frankly attractive … ugh, no, man and Poppy Pomfrey, Luna wandered in wearing something ghastly and pink.
"Hello," she said happily, whacking her wand off Crookshanks's arm.
"-gorgeous," finished Hermione.
"But since you're not coming into the hospital wing," continued Poppy, looking slightly weaker at the knees, "perhaps you'd like to go for a drink with me?"
Luna smiled broadly and took Crookshanks by the wrist, holding a flask of milk out in front of her. Almost docilely, the cat in men's clothing followed with a mild expression. She sat down between Hermione and Ron, before placing the milk on the bedside table and beckoning Crookshanks towards her with a 'sshhhwssshhsswwssshh' sound.
"Hello, Ron. I was just passing by when I remembered you were here. I thought you'd be lonely so I popped in. Oh, what lovely curtains… we had some like those in Ravenclaw…" Luna said.
"What's your name?" asked Hermione, smiling dumbly at her pet.
"Crrr-"
"Critch," said Luna suddenly.
"Crrritch?" said Crookshanks.
"Critch! This is Hermione. She's totally new to you, isn't she?"
"Yerrrse?"
"My name's Hermione! It's a pleasure to meet you! I must say, I've never quite seen someone with your… um… va-va-voom before. Are you from Eastern Europe?" Hermione folded her hands on her lap. Ron scowled darkly at Crookshanks, daring him to make a move.
"He's from a little country you've probably never heard of," Luna answered. "He's been trying to get to the Owlery to send a message home. I did give him directions, but he's not good on English."
"I'll show you," said Hermione kindly.
Ron looked distraught. He reached a hand out to Hermione, but she simply squeezed it companionably. "Luna will keep you company, won't you, Luna?"
"I certainly will," Luna grinned.
"Bye, Ron!"
"Rrron," said Crookshanks.
The two walked out of the hospital wing, oblivious to the dark looks sixs other girls, one boy and one character mentioned by JK Rowling who is, at the moment, of no particular gender, named Blaise shot them. As Hermione shut the door behind them, Poppy shrugged. "It's not my problem if he's got a thing for younger women."
By Ron's bedside, Luna smiled, and Ron pulled himself a few inches away from her.
"Well, Severus, admit it. You are losing," said Minerva, flopping down into a seat in the staff room and fanning herself with a mock OWL test paper. Between them, Professors Flitwick, Snape, McGonagall, Sinistra, Sprout and Vector had scoured the school in search of the runaway and warned the other staff of the danger the girls of Hogwarts were in. It seemed that the cat was more of a menace in human form.
Severus had actually felt quite guilty when they'd come upon Pomfrey, Pince and Hooch, all of which had had encounters with Crookshanks and none of which were particularly happy to talk about it. All Pomfrey had to offer, having being told that the girls were in dire peril was 'I'll say they are. Wow.' Prince's reaction had been twice as alarming. She'd been so distraught by the entire experience that she could talk nothing but gibberish; 'he can stamp my library book any time.' Much in the same way as Madam Hooch, in fact, though hers was more along the lines of broomstick riding.
"It's a minor set-back," said Severus.
"Severus! Luna Lovegood has already got Hermione in her clutches. Give it up, for goodness sake, you're fighting a losing battle."
"… She has Granger in her clutches?" repeated Severus crossly, "there is a Yule Ball in two days and I've incapacitated her little suitor for the Gryffindor."
Minerva raised an eyebrow, "… incapacitated?"
"Well, not exactly. He will never look at a bathroom in the same way, though."
Minerva thought of a few different double meanings that could be patched onto this, and stifled a laugh. "Well, you didn't get any information out of Crookshanks and goodness knows Weasley will be laid up in the hospital wing for a good week. The boy can't dance, either. He has no etiquette. Girls like etiquette, you know."
"Why are you giving me tips on what school-girls like, Minerva?"
"Well, I'm the perfect example. It's not as though I'm an old hag," she said reproachfully.
"… well, I didn't like to mention it, but…" Severus sighed.
"I hope Luna wins," said Minerva waspishly.
Between them, tiny Professor Flitwick put his hands over his head, ducked, and covered, though all he really would have had to do was remove the books from underneath him.