I tried in vain to journey back to Slumber Land, but it was a very unsuccessful attempt. My brain was still trembling from my strange dream; it wasn't so horrifying as to be called a nightmare, but it was certainly unusual for any other sort of nighttime jaunt to linger in my mind with such brilliant detail. If I closed my eyes, I could still see a shimmering specter in the shape of James Potter glancing uneasily over his shoulder at me.
But being able to recall the dream so well would do nothing to help me fall asleep again. Thusly, I groaned very self-pityingly and pulled myself up far enough to shove aside the nearest curtain.
Imagine my surprise when thin morning sunlight greeted my sleep-fogged eyes. I climbed entirely out of bed and trundled over to the window. Yawning largely enough to split my face, I regarded the very pretty first purple-pink light of dawn with a complete lack of appreciation.
How irritating. I had been cheated out of at least an hour and a half of sleep. I grunted sleepily and fumbled for my robe for an entire minute until I realized that it was still wrapped tightly about me.
Well, I suppose it could have been worse. At least my early rising gave me first go at the bathroom.
- - - -
It was dreadfully nippy in the great bathroom that morning. I fervently wished I could summon my bunny slippers from home, as the floor sent knives of cold up through the soles of my feet. Dead pleasant floors in this school, honestly.
I was a few steps into the room when I took the time to look up. My mouth immediately fell slack, as I gaped at the sort of luxury I had not at all expected to find within the confines of Hogwarts Castle.
Lofty walls of ice-white marble rose to an astonishing height, one surely to rival the Great Hall. Rather than an enchanted mimic of the weather, however, the ceiling was decorated with carvings that scrolled delicately through the same shimmering marble as the walls. I glanced down at the offensively cold floor beneath my poor, frozen little feet, and noticed that the slate-colored stone was significantly smoother and of a finer quality than that I had encountered in the rest of the school.
I shed my robe and reluctantly removed my very warm pajamas, trading these for one of the several black towels I had spotted, hanging on a golden rack by the door. Brrr. Now essentially naked, I tentatively stepped farther into the bathroom, feeling foolish at my own nervousness but stepping very gingerly all the same.
Suddenly, I heard a noise far off to my right. My heart leapt into my throat, a place where it was most unwelcome, and I turned rapidly towards the sound's origin.
No one there. Way to go, Hermione. I was as high-strung as they come. I managed to get my heart back to my ribcage, where it belonged, but I couldn't shake off a slightly edgy feeling as I began to run myself a bath.
The bath was nearly identical to that of the prefects' bathroom, the only obvious difference being its size. It stretched grandly across the floor, at least ten meters long at my best guess. A great variety of jewel-topped spigots ran the entire rim of the impressive basin.
I turned a few of the faucets on, releasing torrents of enticingly-scented water and loads of colored foam. Then I decided to take a little walk around my new bathroom, knowing that it would be several minutes before the bath was ready.
The room was not only lit by a great many tall, slender windows that let in blue-tinged sunlight, but also by a large, decadent chandelier suspended from the elevated ceiling by a thickset golden chain. Each of the thirty or so stout white candles protruding from the fixture appeared to be magicked to burn for a long period of time, perhaps interminably; the flames leapt violet from the wicks and gave off a sweet honeyed smell as they burned.
As I continued my tour, veering left to examine the impressive number of sinks situated against the far wall, I heard what was unmistakably a loud splash. Completely set on edge again, I raced back over to the bath, the fragrant contents of which were now reaching a suitable depth. I held the plush bath-towel even tighter around me, suddenly very uncomfortably aware of my nakedness beneath it. I leant over, peering into the water apprehensively. I would not have been at all startled if someone had jumped out of the water, yelling "Surprise!", at that very moment.
But it seemed that no one lurked beneath the thick layer of green bubbles that had spread across the surface of the water. I willed myself to calm down, gingerly taking a seat at the rim and sliding my now-icy feet into the waiting bath.
The heat of the water made my chilled skin tingle luxuriously as it warmed, and the water itself felt sort of silky. I poked idly at the foam surrounding my feet, and sighed deeply. It seemed I had just imagined the splash I'd heard.
As I sat, ankle-deep in the lush bathwater, still not eager to just throw my towel aside and hop in, I noticed a small golden panel inlaid at the edge of the bath, right next to where I sat. I fit my fingers into the small groove at the side, and the panel sprang open.
For a moment, I stared at the contents in utter surprise. Apparently, Dumbledore had seen to it that I was provided with razors. I selected one with a purple grip and examined it warily. Oh, what the hell. I scooped up a bit of foam, slathered it liberally on my right leg, and began to indulge in a pleasingly close shave.
Before I knew it, I was humming an old drinking song Fred had taught me when I'd stayed at the Burrow that summer. I hadn't approved of the sentiment behind the music, but it was an admittedly catchy tune. It didn't take long at all for soft humming beneath my breath to escalate into an entirely audible, assuredly terrible rendition of "I Don't Play Quidditch, But I've An Excellent Broom".
"BLOODY HELL!" A very shocked exclamation reverberated throughout the spacious bathroom, and it certainly was not my voice that uttered it.
Thoroughly startled, I let out a scream and sliced myself quite expertly across the shin. After having successful butchered my leg, the razor flew out of my hand and landed square in the water. Watching its flight led my eyes to a scowling blond head poking out of my green bubbles.
"Bloody hell" was right.
My mouth fell open, failing miserably in its effort to string words together into a vaguely intelligible sentence. "What…you're…what?" I babbled, realizing with a hot rush of discomfort that my feet were currently dangling in water that was surrounding Draco Malfoy's naked body. God bless the invention of bath foam, which was the only thing preventing me from glimpsing the nether regions of the sneering Head Boy.
"What the bloody FUCK are you doing in here, Granger?" Malfoy shouted, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that he was a few bubbles away from giving me a full show. He was much more concerned with viciously castigating me.
My whole body was flushing, though. I was beginning to feel my own nudity quite acutely, and clutched at my towel convulsively.
"What do you think I'm doing? I ran a bath, didn't I?" I snapped, very irritated that I was not only being intruded upon, but also feeling terribly vulnerable, clad in only a rectangle of terrycloth.
Malfoy simply glowered at me from beneath his longish blond hair, which, for once in his life, was not slicked back, instead flopping damply and messily over his forehead. Actually, it was a bit of an improvement upon his usual style, which strongly recalled the Dracula character of old Muggle films.
But I shouldn't have been paying attention to that at all, really. I should have concerned myself with how on earth I was supposed to get myself washed when there was a glaring Slytherin fouling up my bathwater.
I suppose I could have just slid on in. If that course of action hadn't included revealing myself to Draco Malfoy, I would have done just that. But, unfortunately, he was still looking right at me with murder in his eyes, and it was a long way down into the water when measured in the amount of time my body would be entirely devoid of cover.
What other options were there, though? I could hardly just demand that he leave me in peace, could I? I scowled right back at him, my mind racing. Maybe I could…
"Damn it, Malfoy, get out of the effing tub!" I shrieked, fully intent on putting the fear of God in him if he did not comply. Malfoy's sneer became an even more annoying smirk, and he simply ran his soapy hands through his hair, beginning to shampoo and obviously very entertained by my attempt to order him around. I screamed in sheer frustration. What now?
"FINE!" I yelled, glaring at Malfoy with an intensity that should have vaporized him. I rushed over to the nearest faucet, and wrenched the spigot violently on...releasing a deluge of blueberry-scented froth, which was about as intimidating as soggy toast.
"Bollocks!" I growled, looking around desperately. I ran over to a large, unmarked faucet at the front end of the bath, and, with a vicious look at Malfoy, turned it on full blast. This time, clear, fragrance-free water shot forcefully into the bath. I dipped a finger into the stream, and smiled triumphantly. Icy cold.
"Granger, you stupid Mudblood!" Malfoy hollered, crossing his arms and appearing very uncomfortable, all of a sudden. He defiantly stayed put, but I could tell he was feeling the effects of the cold water, because a moment or two later, he gave a very pronounced shudder, looking furious.
"Oh, is it too chilly for you, Draco?" I asked innocently, relishing the sight of the Head Boy shivering resentfully amongst mounds of colorful foam.
He simply glared wrathfully at me, and remained silent.
I grabbed a second towel from the rack by the door, and walked smugly over to the side of the bath. "Get out. Now," I ordered, dangling the towel above the water while simultaneously holding my own securely around me.
Giving me a look that, if looks could kill, would have put me six feet under, he barked, "At least turn around!"
Smirking, I looked away, examining the wall nearest me, where I could make out spidery veins of silver running through the ice-white marble. I felt the towel being jerked roughly from my fingers, and suppressed a small laugh.
After a moment, I turned back around, my eyes squeezed shut. "I hope you're through, Malfoy..."
I opened my eyes, and nearly choked on my own breath. Surely the dripping-wet boy before me wasn't Draco Malfoy? The black towel was knotted carelessly at his slender waist, his chest and arms were slick with water, and smoothly contoured with lean muscle...quite nice-looking muscle, actually. His hair was far from repellent, hanging wetly alongside his scowling face. I blinked, and swallowed with some difficulty. Get a grip, Hermione. He's a bloody ferret.
"Don't think you've won yet, Granger," he snarled, and stalked past me, flinging his dripping hair back, so that I was sprayed with droplets of icy water. I watched him leave, then sighed and sank to the ground.
Now I could finally bathe in peace…after, of course, draining the bathwater.