Saturday morning
For only the second time, the pool was visited by persons of the female persuasion. Unfortunately for Snape, none of them were Hermione.
"Severus, you mentioned that a cadre of Hogwarts house elves physically built this magnificent decadence. They did all the labor?" asked Madam Hooch as she ran a hand through the water.
"Yes, but from my plans," Severus answered. Swimsuit clad, he lounged lazily in the water at the pool's other end mai tai in hand. "Why aren't you at the convention, Minerva?"
"It was postponed. Something about the venue being cursed. Early attendees are convalescing in hospital. I shall fulfill the task, never fear, once it has been rescheduled." Minerva stood ramrod straight hands on her hips. Despite the heat of the room, she looked cool and collected.
Her fellow femmes had fanned out into the room. She couldn't blame them. It was a sybaritic retreat.
"Since you employed the school elves, I'm afraid that this is considered school property. I'm going to have to confiscate it. All of it."
The mai tai was dropped. "You wouldn't dare!"
"I have no choice in the matter, Severus, rules are rules. I must also report this to the Board of Directors."
Snape argued, "But I paid for all the materials. It is at least half mine."
"In whatever case, the other half has to be reported," Minerva replied archly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Madam Pince lolling about on what looked like an oversized red velvet chaise lounge. Madam Pomfrey was sniffing and testing various vials arrayed on one side of the pool.
"After all this is done and over with, I am filing complaints against ALL of you! Now get out and leave a man to his privacy!" Snape's eyes narrowed as he looked at each of his invaders in turn. "How did you get in anyway?! My wards are -"
"We do have our ways, dear boy," Madam Pince called out as she lay prostrate on the chaise.
"As to that, Severus, we came to help you out," said Madam Pomfrey advancing towards him.
"Help me out with what?" Severus unconsciously hunkered down into the water. Instinctively, he looked for the furthest spot from his colleagues. He did not like the way they were looking at him.
Gent: They are all doing an uncanny imitation of women contemplating a forbidden dessert.
Prat: Rich, sweet, smothered in whip cream.
Wolf: And we're the maraschino cherry on top.
In Glastonbury, later in the afternoon of that same Saturday
"Earth to Hermione, hello down there," Madeline stood behind the long sofa in their living room. "Grace, Hermione isn't ready!"
Hermione lay on her stomach on the sofa reading a book. She was dressed in a long slim skirt and a glittery silver blouse. Her eyes never left the page. "Don't listen to her I've been ready for hours."
"What?!" Grace piped up on her way from the bathroom to her own room. Steam followed in her wake.
Madeline motioned her over. Grace made her sodden way to the couch. Her two roommates exchanged twin looks of despair.
"Hermione, we are going to Lucrezia's the trendiest and fanciest five star restaurant in the wizarding world. This is a big occasion and we must do justice to it," said Grace.
"No. YOU need to do justice to it. It is your date after all. I'm simply going along as a live body."
Behind Hermione, Madeline waved her wand in the air. Grace nodded.
"Lucrezia deserves nothing but our best," said Grace.
Madeline looked at the unsuspecting Hermione and cast a spell. "Petrificus Totalus."
Madeline observed, "Grace, you do remember how she feels about being petrified?"
"Desperate times call for desperate measures. You do hair and makeup. I'll go find a dress."
Grace picked a most inopportune time to grow a backbone. Hermione's eyes sent unmistakable messages of impending, painful doom towards her overeager roommates.
Madeline said, "Just to be on the safe side, let me hide her wand before we get started."
The large Chevalier mirror had been privy to many things but this new side to the dreaded potions master was on its top ten list of startling revelations. Professor Snape stood before it examining himself. Behind him, the femmes prowled back and forth adjusting his collar or straightening his pants. Albus sat on the bed looking on in amusement. His presence had the additional benefit of assuring Snape's good behavior.
"The dinner jacket fits perfectly. I didn't think white would suit you, Severus, but the contrast does set off your dark looks to advantage. Fortunately, you're not quite a pale as you used to be," Pomfrey observed.
"The moment of truth has arrived, ladies. We can't put it off any longer." Pince looked at her accomplices. " What are we going to do about his hair?!"
"Ponytail?" Hooch waved her wand and Snape's hair rearranged itself into a ponytail.
"They're dining at Lucrezia's, Hooch. That ponytail is more appropriate for Broom Angels night at the Hog's Head," Minerva pointed out. "No, that will not do. Try something else."
"It's just one night and-" began Severus.
"This is my niece, remember. Your normal black on black ensemble complete with long straggly locks will not do," replied Minerva. "You did agree to this."
"Feather it back in waves," Pince motioned her wand around the vicinity of Snape's head. "Blonde, maybe."
The effect left the ladies speechless. Hooch uttered what was on all their minds. "Severus, did you know you look a bit like … like-"
"I know. I know. We're distant relatives several light years removed. I could hardly go out in public when he was really popular without being accosted, especially after that medieval fiasco of his. Robin Toad or something," said Snape.
"You never said you had muggle relatives, Severus." Hooch placed some subtle highlights in his blond hair and added a neatly trimmed beard.
This maneuver was followed by four delighted squeals of "Hans!" and "Ooh, take me hostage now!"
"He is about as muggle as I am." Severus shot back. He looked at Albus beseeching him with his eyes to put an end to his torture.
The headmaster indicated no inclination to help or be merciful. He flipped through the latest issue of Playwizard.
"So, why isn't he on the Wizards Network then?" asked Pince. "The muggles don't appreciate him at all casting him as second fiddles most of the time."
"He had that good part in the Austen piece, didn't he?" McGonagall asked. "Too bad he had to share the storyline."
"How would I know? He seems to prefer the attentions and loyalty of muggle wenches. Knowing how notoriously fickle witches can truly be, I can hardly blame him."
"Fickle are we? Sounds like a man who's been burned," teased Pomfrey.
"Or scorched to cinders," postulated Hooch. "Who was she and have the burn marks healed yet?"
"You're not talking about Hermione are you? Things going all right with you two?" asked Pince.
Severus scowled at his tormentors. "Yes, they are, thank you very much. I wouldn't hurt her for anything. No meddling in my private life. I may have decided to go along with your ridiculous requirements but I have boundaries. Respect them."
"I have to side with the ladies on this one, Severus. Your hair is a definite problem," Albus said turning the magazine sideways.
Snape accepted the inevitable. "Very well but nothing drastic or permanent and don't change the color."
Fifteen minutes of being petrified was a lifetime as far as Hermione was concerned. During this time, she had witnessed her once pristine bedroom converted into a fashionista's paradise. Cosmetics and such lined her dresser. Dresses and accessories covered every other available flat surface - her bed, the floor, her small couch.
After a seeming eternity of repeated hearings of "But you promised you'd help me, Hermione. You can't back out now", she relented and agreed to be cooperative.
"I would kill for your bone structure." Madeline put the finishing touches on Hermione's hair.
Behind Madeline and reflected on the dressing mirror, Grace held a knee length little black dress aloft for inspection.
"Forget it, Grace. I can't wear that. A handkerchief has more coverage," Hermione protested. "One deep breath and I would be spilling out of it."
"Fine. You don't have to wear it." Hearing Grace's capitulation put the first smile on Hermione's face. "And I don't have to give back your pillow. Consider it ransom for your good behavior."
Hermione whirled about. One glance at her bed sealed Grace's fate. Her special pillow had indeed been purloined. She hadn't noticed before because of all the dresses covering the bed. Hermione sprang up to her feet and in one swift movement had Grace in an arm lock. "Grace, I am only giving you one warning before I snap your arm off."
To Grace's credit, she did not fold in the face of this quite real threat. "The Spanish Armada was halted by an unexpected storm. Napoleon lost at Waterloo on one miscalculation. I am not losing my chance with Derek because you're being a complete prude."
Madeline clapped loudly at this. "Bravo, Grace! I didn't think you had it in you!"
"Come on, Hermione," Grace pleaded. "You have to understand. How far did you go to land your lover?"
Madeline yelped, "What!? Ms. I-Want -No-Social-Life has a lover?"
Grace had hit a nerve and triggered a cache of memories. A request both aggressive and desperate made to a man who intrigued her and treated her as no one else ever had. A riotous sleepover with her professors steeped in sexual education and womanly confidences. Who was she to begrudge Grace her efforts?
Hermione released Grace. "All right. I'll wear the dress if you return the pillow."
Grace was relentless. "And you'll be social and friendly to Derek's cousin?"
"You've been reading Machiavelli lately, haven't you?."
"How else am I to understand and overcome the male mindset?"
Madeline was growing more and more impatient. "Who's your lover?! What's he like?"
"Thoughtful, romantic, loyal to a fault and witty." Hermione took the dress from Grace. She pressed it against her body checking out the fit.
"Sounds too good to be true to me," said Madeline skeptically.
"Well, yes, he is one of a kind and all mine," Hermione said. Inside, her heart did a little flip.
