Chapter Eighteen
A Daring Bathroom Rescue
Oliver Wood shifted uncomfortably, wondering what the problem was. Hermione hadn't seemed to have too much of a problem showering that morning; she'd been embarrassed, sure, but she'd handled it well… she handled everything well… oh, damn, don't think THAT! he ordered himself, trying to keep his thoughts from getting too off-track.
It wasn't easy, however—but then it never had been, not when it came to Hermione. He'd had a crush on her for ages; it was something he'd felt since her first year, when he was in fifth. He'd noticed her during her Sorting, and after ages of staring at her, thinking about her, and so on, it had clicked that he liked her a few months later, right before Harry's first Quidditch match. Hermione had been trying to force Harry to eat a piece of toast, and he'd finally taken a bite from her hand just to placate her, and Oliver had felt the urge to murder his Seeker and developed a sudden craving for toast. He'd stayed mostly silent over the years, flirting with her a little and sometimes hanging out with Harry just to be around Hermione. When Oliver had graduated, he'd kicked himself for never saying anything to her… then, he'd seen her at the Quidditch World Cup, at night after the match…
Hey! What happened to keeping bad thoughts out of our head?
I'm trying, Oliver thought, arguing with himself. But she's broken up with Ron now… according to rumor…
Yeah, rumors are always so reliable. She's broken up with Ron, just like she's murdered Snape. Keep your mind out of the gutter! You teacher, her student!
I've got to get out of this bathroom, Oliver thought wearily, glancing at Hermione out of the corner of his eye and absently twirling the cherry stem between his fingers. Note to self: Buy Fred a very nice Christmas present…
He tried to force his thoughts away from Hermione, but there wasn't much left to think about. Had she really broken up with Ron? Maybe, but they'd seemed awfully friendly the day before, in the hospital… but Ron had seemed no more friendly than Harry, come to think of it. Hermione hadn't been holding hands with anyone; she'd been acting around them the way Oliver remembered the three of them from school—walking together, talking together, laughing together, but no one making eyes at anyone else. So perhaps Hermione really was single now…
Get in the tub! the sane… well, saner… part of him fairly screamed at Hermione and Draco. Get in so I can get out!
"Well?" Oliver said, a tad desperately. Neither Draco nor Hermione noticed his tone. They were both staring at the tub worriedly and not paying attention to him much, though both of them seemed to have heard Oliver speak.
"Er… maybe we can rig up a curtain," Hermione said nervously, taking out her wand.
Oh, so that's what the problem is, Oliver thought. No more shower curtain. Good, let's fix that and get me out of here before Malfoy has another rumor to spread. It had never been easy for Oliver to be alone with Hermione, especially now that his brain kept reminding him of things like cherries and how she was quite possibly a single girl now.
"How are we supposed to bathe one at a time, even if we do?" Draco asked, speaking more to himself than Hermione. "We can't swim and splash around with only five feet between us. The tub's too deep; we'd have to keep one arm in the air. It's not like showering…"
Hermione sighed. "Well… we'll just go find another bathroom, is all."
The three of them headed for the door, Oliver holding the clean clothes so that Hermione and Draco didn't get food on them. Draco opened the door and froze.
"I can't believe she's really got a tattoo!" Lavender's voice squealed from the corridor outside.
"I know! Who would have believed it?" Parvati answered. "I thought Malfoy just made it up!"
"Me, too!" exclaimed Parvati's twin, Padma.
"I wonder where she went… we've got to get the story out of her!" Lavender said.
Hermione seized Draco's arm and hauled him inside, slamming the door quickly with her foot. "Okay, never mind," Hermione said hastily, making a silent vow to avoid her roommates as much as possible. "Um… well, hmm. I guess we could… I just… damn it, I don't know!" she wailed. "I just want to get these damned cherries out of my bra!"
Oliver reddened and, out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw him toss a cherry stem across the room as inconspicuously as he could.
I've got to get out of here… come on, those bubbles are completely opaque… I don't care how much they don't want to do it, I can't leave them alone and I can't stand this much longer!
"Well…" Oliver coughed. "There's only one solution then, right? You'll just have to bathe at the same time."
"Have you gone mad?" Hermione asked with a laugh.
"I'll keep an eye on him, Hermione, I promise," Oliver said. "It's that, or you go find another bathroom, and I know you're anxious to be seen and to answer questions—"
Hermione groaned. "Fine," she said, feeling like she was permitting someone to shot her in the foot, though logically she knew it was pretty much their only solution.
"I'm not sharing a bath with her!" Draco insisted, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Well, the Slytherins are out of the dungeons, now," Oliver said lightly. "I suppose you could tell them all about your food fight while you're looking for another bathroom. And how you're on the way to find a nice place to shower with Hermione, the Muggle-born Gryffindor. Or I could tell them, your call."
Draco bit his lip and looked at the tub in a whole new light.
Even though they'd both agreed, more or less, it took quite some time to actually get to the bathing. Both Hermione and Draco kept trying to stall, and, as usual, they had plenty of fights along the way. First, it was an argument over which taps to turn on; Draco kept saying certain ones smelled too girly and Hermione kept worrying about the waters' bubbles being thick enough to keep anyone from seeing her. Then, once the tub was filled, they had another argument about finding a different bathroom. On and on they fought—who was going to get in first, whose fault it was, who deserved to be strangled to death more, who won the food fight, who had more right to complain, and so on. Finally, Oliver exploded.
"Will you two shut up and get in there? I haven't got all day! I'm supposed to be grading essays and planning lessons! I haven't even come up with an exam for my class tomorrow! But no, I have Harry breathing down my neck, and Fred and George dragging secrets out of me, and my desk flying out a window, and a lot of wrong thoughts I shouldn't have about students—"
"Oliver!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Oh, stop it! Everyone knows that I've at least seen your tattoo! Why don't we just go and tell everyone about how we—"
"SILENCIO!" Hermione screeched, pointing her wand at Oliver's mouth. "Are you insane? There are probably people walking by outside!"
"Let the man talk," Draco said, lifting Hermione's Silencing Charm and looking at Oliver in amusement. "This was just getting good."
Oliver blushed. "You know what? I'm a teacher. I don't have to put up with this. Both of you get in the tub!"
"You can't order us to bathe!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Watch me! I order you, I order you, I order you!" Oliver said in a singsong "I've gone mad" sort of voice, shaking his shoulders in a mock dance move for emphasis and letting out an evil cackle; both Hermione and Draco backed away nervously, quite worried about his sanity.
Hermione, staring at the crazed Oliver, suddenly realized how wrong her life had become. In the past few months, she had become completely gung ho about the prank war—and as such, she'd become a nervous wreck and a devious plotter. Her stubborn streak had driven her to do the craziest things—just like when she'd followed Harry and Ron down that trap door beneath Fluffy, or freed Buckbeak and Sirius, or made a solemn vow to get a shit load of dirt on Rita Skeeter and blackmail her, breaking not just rules but laws. Overnight, she'd gone from trying to talk Harry and Ron out of the prank war to being determined to destroy Draco Malfoy at all costs. She had entered into a freakish alliance with one of her least favorite people; she had stripped a guy, dressed him in her underwear, and tied him to a goalpost; she had fought tooth and nail to get one up on him; and now, she was standing in a bathroom with said guy and Oliver Wood, of all people. Oliver Wood, the teacher who made her the most uncomfortable—primarily because he had a habit of winking at her or staring at her or glaring at Ron whenever Ron was acting particularly boyfriend-y, and these sort of actions always brought up a lot of memories. Good memories, to be sure, but ones she didn't really want to think about while she was with Ron…
Oh, god, Hermione thought, overwhelmed. I'm standing here, with Oliver and Draco, about to bathe with Draco, while Ron's pissed at me, I accidentally almost killed Harry with a coconut, Ginny's stalling the teachers, Fred and George are doing god-knows-what, everyone's spreading rumors and through it all I'm thinking immoral thought about a man who is now my professor!
Hermione burst out laughing. Oliver looked slightly affronted by this, and Draco just looked sort of annoyed—and somehow that made it even funnier. Everything she'd dealt with over the past few weeks, from Snape and Malfoy to Harry and Ron, minor pranks and major pranks and the tattoo and the hickeys and Oliver and so on, just sort of bubbled to the surface and gave new meaning to the phrase "you'll look back on this and laugh." She'd been avoiding Oliver all year, embarrassed and rather worried about the feelings she still had for him. She'd been worried about her motives for letting Snape mark her, as hard as she tried to block the memories out. She'd been determined to keep anyone from ever finding out about that damned tattoo. She'd been plotting to prank Draco, and nearly every day she'd been hit by some silly prank, big or small. Her relationship with Ron was basically over, Harry was being her protective-savior of a best friend, Draco was chained to her and Snape… well, who knew what had happened there. What wasn't funny about it? How had this happened? How had she gotten here? It was probably Malfoy's fault, really, but still… it was just… wrong.
"What are you laughing at?" Oliver demanded, looking rather wounded, almost pouting, and Hermione let out a particularly loud shriek of laughter.
"You…" she choked out, pointing at him. "And you…" She pointed at Draco. "You two… Harry… Ron… twins… Snape… life… Malfoy… Dobby… pork chops… cherries…"
She started laughing too hard to speak, doubling over. Draco, however, had ceased to be amused or confused and was now just irritated. He had congealed food all over his body. He'd spent the past few days—make that months—in a state of almost constant humiliation. He was over it. He wanted to choke her to death, but he didn't think he really had the option. So he settled for the next best thing.
Draco reached out, grabbed her shoulders, and shoved her into the bathtub.
…Of course, he instantly realized this was a mistake, as he was chained to her wrist.
With a yelp, Draco went flying after her. Two screams and two splashes later, Oliver sighed, annoyed and weary. "Well, at least they're in the bathtub now," he muttered.
Hermione popped back up first, followed quickly by Draco, both of them spluttering. "How DARE you!" Hermione screamed, splashing at him.
"You bitch! This is your fault!" Draco yelled, splashing her back harder. This, of course, marked the beginning of a spectacular water fight; Oliver quickly went to rescue the dry clothes and towels from the waves of water pouring out onto the floor. Once they were safe on a shelf, Oliver was too busy to tell them to knock it off; he was forced to take off his socks and shoes, put them on higher ground, roll up his pants and hitch up his robes. As their fight got them slightly clean, Oliver watched in amusement for a while, but there was only so much scented bubbles could do to clean two fully-clothed (and very messy) people and, when there was so much water on the floor that the pork chops from Draco's shirt had floated away underneath the bathroom door, Oliver called things to a halt.
"STOP! You're in the damned tub together, so bathe already!" Oliver nodded pointedly at a few bottles of shampoo and similar things that were always kept in the bathroom.
Hermione looked up at him, holding his robes high with his jeans rolled up, and giggled. Draco admitted defeat but splashed at her one last time; Hermione responded, and the water war began to start back up until Oliver screamed, "HEY!"
"Fine," Draco muttered, turning away from Hermione. "I can be mature about this."
"You can't be mature about anything!" Hermione snorted, moving to the edge of the tub as far from Draco as she could get and turning on another tap; they'd lost a lot of water during the fight. When the water was up to her neck, about an inch below Draco's shoulder, she shut the tap off. Draco was already taking off his shoes, emptying them of water, and setting them on the floor. Hermione copied him, doing her best not to blush when the rest of Draco's clothes followed. Staring hard at the bubbles to make sure no one could see anything below them, she struggled to take off her skirt and underwear without falling over and more nervously added her shirt. Oliver had his head turned away; she thought he might still be watching out of the corner of his eyes, but she wasn't certain if she was imagining that or not.
It was the most awkward moment of her life, and that was saying something. She was standing in a gigantic bathtub, with her worst enemy standing five feet away and completely naked. To top it all off, as she took off her bra, cherries fell out and began floating in the water, though some had gotten smashed into the material and she shoved the bra under her shirt so that no one would see it or the crushed cherries. She summoned a few bottles of beauty products before carefully laying her wand next to her clothes, as far from Draco as she could reach, and set about trying to get clean.
Bathing while standing up in neck-deep water wasn't easy, however. She couldn't bend over to wash the bottom half of her without submerging herself, and she didn't want to lose track of Draco, determined to keep him in her peripheral vision. It was also thoroughly embarrassing to wash certain parts of her; she knew it wouldn't be hard for Draco or Oliver to guess just what she was cleaning. Her legs presented quite a problem, also; she was going to have to scrub them thoroughly to get off all the stains (the mustard, ketchup, and several other things had left her legs looking quite discolored), but she couldn't reach below mid-thigh without half-drowning herself. Eventually, she got the bright idea to hold onto the tub's edge with one hand, stand on one foot, lift her leg up as high as she comfortably could and scrub herself that way. Draco smirked when he saw her foot and calf sticking up out of the water; he eventually became braver about looking at her, and she could just see the wheels in his head turning to come up with something insulting enough to say.
Her hair, too, presented a bit of a problem; the choice of two braids had turned out to be quite a bad one, as the braids were now sticky and difficult to unravel. It was also a chore to figure out just how to shampoo her hair; she didn't like the idea of raising her arms to scrub her head, worried that would make a bit of her chest show (and maybe too much), so she squatted down slightly to wash it and went under the water to rinse, coming up quickly and making sure Draco hadn't moved. Finally, she felt quite clean, but she continued to scrub, not wanting to face the awkward moment when she and Draco would both have to climb out of the tub.
"Are you done yet?" asked Draco, who had long since finished bathing and was lounging on the edge of the tub, his elbows propped up on it and only his lower body still beneath the bubbles.
"You still have mustard in your hair," Hermione retorted, and Draco grabbed his hair in a panic and dove for a bottle of shampoo. Hermione rolled her eyes. "You really are vain, you know that?"
"Who cares, as long as I don't look like a train wreck like you?" Draco shot back as he re-lathered his hair.
"If you two have one more fight, I'll drown you both," Oliver threatened blackly. He was sitting on the counter in the far corner of the restroom, where the sinks and mirrors were, on the other side of the two toilet stalls. He'd taken off his robes in an effort to keep them dry and was looking rather strange with his jeans rolled up and an exasperated, weary expression on his face. He was half-asleep, not having slept very well the previous night; he'd been too busy doing research for the restoration of his desk and worrying about what Dumbledore (and many other people) would say about Oliver's past with Hermione if it ever came out.
"Do I still have sugar on my face, Oliver?" Hermione asked in a small voice, not trusting Draco to reply honestly.
"Um, yeah. I can still see where Harry, er, licked you."
Hermione blushed and scrubbed harder at the sugar, which was proving highly difficult to get off of her face. Pumpkin juice was known to leave vicious stains, and it was apparently a good adhesive when it came to sugar granules and skin, especially since it had been given a long time to dry. "You're good," Oliver said at last, when she'd nearly rubbed her face raw.
"Is she, now?" Draco said vaguely, once more relaxing at the edge of the tub.
Hermione glared at him and searched for something else to clean, and had just decided that she might as well make sure all that pie crust and filling was really gone when the door swung open. With a gasp, Hermione dove under the water.
Madam Pomfrey had healed the bump on Harry's head in a matter of seconds, and was completely uninterested when he insisted that it was an unprovoked attack by a coconut (though this story did make her look very long and hard for brain damage). Feeling as good as new, Harry set out to find Hermione and to make sure she was alive and not strangling anyone or throwing pork chops down someone's shirt.
Ah, Hermione, gotta love her, he thought with a grin as he began his bathroom search. He was certain they were still in one; it would have taken a long time to scrub all that crap off, and they would, after all, have to take two showers (and they'd probably argued for ages). The first bathroom Harry thought of was the prefects' one; as far as he knew, the rest of the bathrooms in the main part of the school only had toilets, as the common rooms all had showers and baths. It was pretty private, and much closer to the Great Hall than Gryffindor tower, which were also good reasons to go there if you were covered in food and had just been thoroughly embarrassed in front of most of the school.
Harry immediately saw that he was right; the entire corridor outside the prefects' bathroom was flooded, and two lone pork chops were floating in the mess. Holding up his robes and stepping carefully, Harry headed for the door; he'd become a prefect in his sixth year, which was when secondary prefects were usually chosen to help with the extra work bestowed upon the older prefects.
"Rabbits' feet," Harry called at the door, grinning at the memory of Draco's "love and bunnies" password, not that the two were related.
The door swung open and Harry walked in, then froze. Draco was looking up at him with an annoyed expression, and Oliver was nowhere to be seen (primarily because his shelf was on the other side of the toilet stalls)… and neither was Hermione. But she had to be there… somewhere…
I guess she's under the water, Harry thought in surprise, trying to work out just why Hermione would be submerged. He waited for a few seconds for her to come up, but she didn't… and then a horrible thought struck him. Draco looked pretty relaxed, or had until Harry had come in… she wasn't down there doing… she wouldn't… would she?
"Go away, Potter," Draco snapped. "I'm busy."
Oh, god, she is! Harry thought wildly. She's down there giving him a… no. No, not my Hermione. No, no, no. She wouldn't. She doesn't even do that… does she? Think, Harry! Think rationally! Why would Oliver have left? Was he pissed off at her for some reason? Oh, god, what if he thought she told me her secret about him and he got mad and left? What if Malfoy's done something to her… ohmigod! He's DROWNED her!
"I'm coming, Mione!" Harry yelled, and ran for the tub, kicking off his shoes as he went. The startled, frightened look on Draco's face would have been comical if Harry hadn't been too busy charging the tub to care.
Oliver, meanwhile, had dozed off slightly, but awoke with a start at the sound of Harry's shout. He stood up, wondering what Harry was doing there, and stepped out from his little hidden corner just in time to see Harry making a flying leap into the pool and Draco ducking in terror. Scratching his head, Oliver was too tired and exasperated to do much but stand there and hit the door with a spell to close it.
Hermione was cowering at the bottom of the tub, praying that whoever had come in would see Draco, not notice her pile of clothes, and leave before she ran out of air. She'd have to resurface soon; she couldn't hold her breath forever.
Suddenly strong arms seized her around the chest and yanked her upwards. Hermione screamed, then promptly choked on soapy water. Draco was trying to feel her up in the bath! She'd kill him... or was he trying to kill her? God, she needed air! She couldn't breathe!
Her head broke the surface and she coughed and spluttered, spitting out water and barely noticing as she was dragged to the side of the tub. Someone lifted her up and laid her on the floor, and Hermione, in full panic mode now, opened her mouth to scream… and someone pinched her nose shut and covered her mouth with theirs.
Hermione's eyes flew open as a gust of air filled her mouth… and Harry's dripping wet face filled her vision. What the hell was he doing? He… he'd just pulled her out of the bath and… kissed her, if one could call it that. He definitely needed snogging lessons…
Hermione was too shocked to react (it wasn't every day your best friend dragged you out of the bathtub to prove their love by making out with you—very, very badly), and it wasn't until Harry pulled away and put his hands on her chest that she shrieked and pushed him off… and back into the bathtub. Harry let out a quick "ARGH!" before he went under. Draco started laughing hysterically, finally understanding that Harry had thought Hermione had drowned.
Harry came back up, looking quite confused. The moment he saw her, sitting up and staring at him, he rushed to her and threw his arms around her. "Hermione! You're okay!"
"Harry what has gotten into you?" Hermione demanded, trying to push Harry away but to no avail. How badly had she hurt him when Malfoy had ducked that flying coconut? "I thought you went to see Madam Pomfrey about that head injury!"
"I thought you were a goner!" Harry choked out. "When I came in and realized you were under the water…"
"Oh, god," Hermione sighed. Of course he hadn't been kissing her; he'd been trying to do C.P.R.! "Harry, forgive me, but you really DO have a saving-people thing! What am I going to do with you?"
Harry pulled back, looking like a drowned (and very relieved) rat. "I couldn't figure out why you didn't come up! At first I thought… well, never mind what I… you're alive! And… naked." He looked down at her body in shock.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, having forgotten this fact in all the confusion and amusement. Oliver stepped up behind her and handed his robe to her. She wrapped it around herself as Harry looked away and Draco fought to stay standing, laughing as hard as he was.
"What the hell were you doing in the bathtub with Malfoy, anyway?" Harry demanded, his back still turned as she stood up, Oliver's robe sticking to her damp skin, and retrieved her wand to summon a towel. "Better yet, what the hell were you doing naked in a bathtub with Malfoy?"
"Bathing, Harry, what do you think? The tub was too deep to bathe in separately and all… well, okay, once we were in there we decided to bathe—"
"Wait, you got in and then thought you'd take a bath together?"
"Harry, why are you taking this so… so… weird?" Hermione demanded in exasperation. "Malfoy pushed me in, Malfoy fell in, Oliver lost it—"
"Hey!"
"—and ordered us to get clean. So we did, staying as far apart as possible," Hermione continued, drying herself off as best she could, too annoyed and amused and overwhelmed by the strangeness of life to be embarrassed or less blunt. "Then the door opened, and I hid, thinking it was some other prefect… can't believe I forgot to charm the door…" The prefects usually cast a spell on the charm when bathing, to prevent anyone else from entering. "Then someone grabbed me and I fully intended to kill them, but I screamed and choked and the next thing I know you're giving me mouth-to-mouth."
"Is that a new term for it?" the pureblooded Oliver said in an amused sort of tone.
"It's a Muggle thing!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly. "It's used to save drowning victims!"
"If you say so," Oliver said skeptically; he didn't see how Harry kissing Hermione was some Muggle live-saving method, and moreover he'd been rather relieved and filled with a happy feeling when Hermione had shoved him back into the tub.
Harry pushed himself out of the tub, water pouring off of him. "Oh, man… I'm completely soaked," he complained.
Hermione performed a wave to make hot air blow out of the tip of her wand, handed it to Harry, and continued drying off. "Well, thanks for trying to save my life, anyway," she said, shaking her head at him. She looked over at Malfoy, who was laughing so hard that no sound came out. "Oh, shut up, Malfoy!"