A/N: I'm soooooo sorry you guys! But with school and Mock Trial, and the play and life itself, I hadn't had time to update! Sorry about the five month hiatus! I hope you guys enjoy!
Chapter 7: Reconciliation and Merlin's SocksAll through dinner, he could feel the tingling at his fingertips. The urge was so strong that he didn't even notice the empty seat beside him. Actually, he just didn't have time to notice, seeing as how he was wolfing down his food at a speed that would make even Ron Weasley jealous. There was nothing that could stop him... Oliver Wood needed to get on a broom.
So about half an hour later, he found himself wandering towards the old broom closet by the Quidditch pitch. The clear skies shimmered with stars amongst the endless darkness. The wind whispered softly in his ear as it danced across the fields. That exhilarating feeling is irreplaceable.
As he neared the little hut, however, his quidditch senses quickened and he heard noises. Slowly creaking open the door, he tried his best not to laugh out loud at the sight before him. "Madam Granger... what are you doing?"
"Oh, this is hopeless!" she sighed in frustration, letting go of the broomstick she had in hand. She really was quite a sight, with her hair in complete disarray and the grease from the broom maintenance kit all over her face. With her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, she sat cross-legged on the floor, disgruntled, frustrated, and not to mention, embarrassed.
"Oh no, is that my broom?" Oliver said with a wince at the grease covered, practically bent broomstick. He quickly wandered over and picked it up gingerly, almost as if it were his dying girlfriend. Immediately, he picked up the washcloth next to him and began rubbing the poorly used grease off the handle.
"I tried to apologize by fixing up your broomstick a little bit, but apparently it's not exactly my area of expertise. Honestly, you'd think that someone who flew through medi-witch training could polish up a broom," she said in an exasperated tone, drowning in self-pity.
"Well, next time you try to fix up a—wait, what did you say?" he suddenly noticed her well-hidden apology. He tore his attention away from his beloved broom and stared at the young woman beside him.
"I said, 'you'd think that someone who flew through-"
"No, before that!"
"Fixing up broomsticks is not my area of exper-"
"No, before that!" His temper was returning. He wasn't angry at her really, just a bit impatient.
"Oh... that. I was trying to apologize... Look, Professor Wood, I was really rude, I admit it. I haven't exactly been very... welcoming to you. I guess I just got caught up in the whole dumb jock stereotype and for that I am truthfully sorry," she apologized humbly. This was not what Oliver expected from the proud Gryffindor.
A chuckle escaped from his lips. "You're just full of surprises, you know that?" When he saw that familiar glare, he put his hands up in a defensive position, "not that it's a bad thing!"
"That's what I thought," she muttered playfully. Then, she stuck out her hand for a handshake, "Truce?"
"Truce." With that, the pair talked for hours while Oliver fixed up his beloved broom.
They talked about everything from quidditch (this time with Hermione actually playing attention), to their old school days in Hogwarts (where Oliver teased Hermione about being a goody-two-shoes Head Girl). About two hours later, however, they could hear some... strange noises coming from outside the small hut. Maybe a... whimper? And then a growl.
Deciding that it was probably Hagrid with a new pet, they thought it would be better, not to mention safer, to stay out of his way. The sounds were heading in their direction and the two Hogwarts professors were almost nervous. A shriek escaped Hermione's lips when the door flung open...
... and revealed the Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry who then exclaimed, "Aw, Merlin's socks!"
* * *
"It's a fool proof plan! The broom closet is perfect for the occasion." Dumbledore said with a delighted grin on his face. He led the group, walking and swinging his arms excitedly, like a six-year-old boy walking towards Honeydukes'.
"Occasion? There is no occasion! Stop jumping to conclusions, Albus. We're just trying to get two perfectly mature adults to behave!" Minerva McGonagall reminded him and followed her employer. 'I swear, the only reason I'm here is to keep them in line. I'm not curious at all. No... I'm really not...at... all... Oh, who am I kidding?' she fought an inner battle that questioned her intentions for her part in the scheme.
The charms professor, equally as excited as Dumbledore himself, ran through the locking charms and the decorative charms in his head. "Minerva, lighten up! All we're doing is locking them up in a romantic closet, decorated by yours truly, and let them talk things over! Then, we'll add in Fluffy," at this, he gestured to the enormous three headed dog following the conspicuous-looking group, "from which Oliver will protect Hermione and then in months, we might even have a wedding at Hogwarts!" His voice went higher to an excited squeak at the end of his sentence.
Professor Sprout quickened her pace as she tried to keep up with the others. "I do hope that these are mature enough to have a profound effect," she muttered excitedly as she stared at the pot she was holding. It's very rare that she had a role in such missions.
"I'm sure it will be fine. I believe Filius also put a charm on these already enchanted roses. It's aphrodisiac effects should be doubled. I must say, you have outdone yourself. You must do the floral arrangements at the wedding," Albus said as he went along his merry way.
"What wedding? There is not wedding right now!" Minerva hissed, extremely annoyed. True, she wanted them to get together, but... they're infuriating!
Meanwhile, Snape noticed his Slytherin-like quality and slowly backed away.
"That'll be a fine day at Hogwarts, I tell yeh, a weddin'. Them two will be good ter each other," Hagrid said while dragging Fluffy by a chain attached to its three way collar. The minute Dumbledore informed him about this mission, he quickly accepted. Not only does he help a close friend who had helped him with Malfoy's teasing and Buckbeak's trial, he get to bring tremendous joy to the school, which had seen brighter days. Besides, it just sounded plain fun.
"I'm telling you, the girl is going to murder us. Have you ordered my coffin as I have requested, Headmaster? I was lucky to have survived Voldemort, but even luck won't get me through this alive," the potions master walked at the end of the group. "Ow! Hagrid, keep your over excited puppy in order. It's stupid wagging tail hit me AGAIN! And let me tell you, if he does it again, I really don't think I can remain conscious." His role in the plot sums up to one word: Veritaserum. If they refuse to express their (as Dumbledore calls it) true (?) feelings (besides hatred) for each other, we'll drug them. That's their approach. According to them, it would be "justified" to do so. 'I bet Hermione would disagree... quite violently.'
"Honestly, Severus, stop being so nervous! Why would Hermione be angry at us for locking her and the love of her life in a broom closet and being mock-attacked by a vicious three headed dog? Ah, here we are," Dumbledore said as he opened the door to the broom closet. "Aw, Merlin's socks!"
"What is it, Albus?" Minerva asked, not being able to see through the narrow doorway.
"They're already here! Tell me, you two. Have you made up and decide not to fight anymore?" Dumbledore asked hopefully. Maybe there was still a chance that he could use his plan.
"Y-yes, headmaster. We're friends now..." Hermione was a bit hesitant in replying, having been shocked by the spontaneous headmaster.
"Oh." Was it just Hermione, or did Dumbledore look... crestfallen at the supposedly wonderful news. "Well, there goes my evening."
"I- I'm sorry?" Oliver spoke up. He looked past the old man's figure and spotted the three headed dog. "W-what is that?"
Before anyone could reply, Hermione ran up to the frightening canine. "Fluffy! How have you been?"
"Oh yeh, I, uh, forgot that yeh took care of 'em fer me fer a while. Sorry, Professor Dumbledore. Guess it wouldn't have worked anyway," Hagrid said apologetically.
"Ah, there goes my master plan up in smoke! The damsel is not supposed to befriend the monster!" Dumbledore pouted as he sat down on a bench and wallowed in his ruined plan.
"Wait, master plan? And what is everyone doing here? Is that... veritaserum, Severus? And isn't that the rose you were telling me about, Madam Sprout? What is going on?" Hermione asked cautiously. It was never good when this motley crew came together.
"We were, just uh... out for a walk! Yes, a walk! A breath of fresh air always does us old folks good!" Filius said quickly, trying to think of an excuse. Dumbledore, sensing that Hermione was on the brink of discovering their plan, backed away towards the door and back to the castle. The rest of them followed suit while trying to escape a suspicious Hermione and a confused Oliver.
"All of you... took walks... to the broom closet with... Fluffy?" Hermione asked skeptically.
"Well, uh, you see..." Minerva struggled. She knew it was a good idea to stay on her brilliant student's good side. "It was a... bonding activity. And Fluffy... was... lonely?"
"Bonding activity..." Everyone nodded frantically to try to cover up their tracks. "And you, Severus, of all people, decided to join..."
"Well, it's about time I uh... socialize with my co-workers more... You always say that, right?" Snape stuttered, being more nervous than he had his entire life. She seemed calm, a bit too calm. He had no doubt in his mind that she had already figured out that they were planning something and that she would give him hell later.
"Wait a second, wait a second. If we're all out here... then who is in the castle... with the students?" Oliver asked, finally snapping out of his daze. Everyone looked at Albus.
"Why, Professor Binns, of course!" The other professors looked at each other, and without another word, ran back towards the castle.
That night, they returned and found five Gryffindors, two Hufflepuffs, Six Slytherins, and one Ravenclaw passed out in the hallway from firewhiskey and stripped down to their boxers by their classmates...
All this time, the History of Magic professor lectured to the unconscious bodies about the Second Trolls War.