A/N: Bless me readers, for I have sinned. It has been nine days since my last update. Yeah, well, if you were knee deep in grad class with a Professor with a personality like a spiked pickle, you would be behind on your writing, too.
All your base are belong to JKR, as per the usual. Somebody set up us the bomb!
Hermione wriggled uncomfortably in her seat. Yes, she was upset about being housed in what she had dubbed the Chamber of Dust, but actually going through with addressing the issue with her mentor was harder than she had expected.
And she hadn't even started talking yet.
The Headmistress was so...smiley. So welcoming and friendly. Hermione had been admitted to her office right away, despite the earliness of the hour, as she had been working on some sort of paperwork. Craning her neck unobtrusively Hermione was able to pick out the last name Petersen, at the top of what looked like a very official document. Her natural curiosity rose up, but she pushed it firmly back down.
Focus, Hermione. Stop feeling like you have no right to be upset about this room. Assert yourself. You are a Hogwarts Professor!
"Professor, I'm sorry to bother you, but, erm, my room...there have been some–problems. That is to say, it's quite...unique."
She mentally smacked herself in the forehead.
Minerva cocked her head, looking at the newest member of her staff.
"My dear, my name is Minerva. You are, as always, free to use it." She paused, taking in Hermione's pained demeanor with some confusion. "Well, I did have my doubts about placing you in the East Turret. I worried that the décor was rather too Spartan for a bright young person, but I did hope that the lovely view would make up for it."
"The...view?" asked Hermione weakly. The Headmistress' idea of a good view differed from hers, as all she could see from her window was a few inches of daylight. The room was on the upper level of the dungeons, after all. (Yes, Hogwarts had multiple dungeon levels. It was all in Hogwarts: A History.)
Also, the Chamber of Dust was Spartan the way Versailles was dull. Hermione was no up-and-coming interior designer, but she was pretty sure that the furniture in there dated back to the Renaissance, if not before. The furniture in her room, not Versailles. Although technically Versailles was a Renaissance structure too.
"Yes, the view." Minerva's brow furrowed. "It's one of the only teaching suites with a view of the lake. The sunrises are quite beautiful, with the sunlight reflecting off the water."
She was sure that Hermione's gaping signified the progression of the Wizarding Flu. At least she wasn't pink like she had been yesterday. As long as she wasn't running a fever, she would probably recover somewhat quickly. Still, best to be sure...
"Magenta!" she called.
Crack. It was a testament to Hermione's morning thus far that she didn't even jump.
"What can Magenta be getting the Headmistress?" asked Magenta. "The kitchen has just been receiving a new imported type of–"
Hermione looked at Magenta. Magenta looked at Hermione.
"–a new type of system where people that is calling certain elfs isn't guaranteed to get certain elfs!" finished Magenta incongruously, at which point she vanished with a vociferous crack that put all others before it to shame.
Minerva sat back heavily in her chair with a rustle of fabric. "Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "Hermione, have you ever seen a house-elf behave like that? Hermione?"
She had to call Hermione's name several more times, because Hermione was looking as though something had suddenly been made clear to her.
"That little demon!" she hissed suddenly, banging her fist on the desk and startling Minerva so much that she knocked over the bottle of ink beside her paperwork. Without hardly sparing it a glance, Hermione cleared it up with a wave of her hand.
"Thank you, dear," said Minerva, feeling that her nerves were really too shot for things like fist-banging at this hour of the morning. "Now, do you mind telling me what this is all about?"
"Magenta is evil!" When Minerva chortled despite herself, Hermione set her chin even more. "It's because of her that I've had the morning I've had."
"I wasn't aware that you knew Magenta, Hermione. Then again, perhaps not being aware of that was silly of me, given your adolescent activities with the dignified organization of SPEW."
Hermione stared at her employer very hard. Minerva simply smiled at her, just like Professor Dumbledore used to do. It was impossible to tell if she was being made fun of. Although Hermione had, in fact, long since come to terms with the fact that house-elves didn't want to be helped, she chose to believe that Minerva was sincere.
"I met her last night," she said. "She showed me to the Chamber of Dust."
"The chamber of...what?" asked Minerva. A look of partial understanding slowly crossed her face. "Severus didn't take you to your room, did he?"
"No, he didn't. Why I'm even surprised at that is beyond me. He hates me, after all. He deserted me in the corridor after we both left your office. I wasn't about to go after him, and I didn't want to bother you, especially because it takes forever to get up that revolving staircase." She gestured vaguely behind her towards the offending item.
Minerva blinked.
"Magenta just happened to be passing by as Severus left. She introduced herself, told me she knew where I had been assigned, and offered to take me there."
Now the Headmistress just looked nonplussed. She got up briefly to close the shutters against the particularly bright sunshine of the early morning, and then sat back down.
"Where exactly did Magenta put you?"
"Thanks to the events of this morning, I have the answer to that!" said Hermione. "Right above Professor Snape's – Severus' – quarters."
She could feel herself becoming pink. She could feel it, and the more she acknowledged it to herself, the pinker she became. The harder she struggled not to acknowledge it, the worse it got. Minerva was noticing; she just knew it.
Minerva was noticing, but as she simply deemed it the progression of the flu, she did nothing, other than inch her chair subtly away from Hermione. She couldn't be getting sick. Her immune system wasn't what it once was. She'd make Hermione go and see Poppy.
She was also dying with curiosity as to what exactly had happened to Hermione this morning, and was promptly gratified as her young employee let loose.
Hermione had just gotten to the part about the shrieking clock, when Minerva began to cough. Pulling a handkerchief from her front pocket, (the benefit of being old was that one carried things like handkerchiefs), Minerva stifled her peals of laughter. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes, but other than that, she was fairly sure she had managed to conceal her amusement. She could always blame the tears on allergies.
"...and in short, I'm terrified I'll unearth something in that room that will actually hurt me." Hermione finished her tale of woe, and sat back in her chair.
Minerva deemed it safe to emerge from her hanky, and duly did so.
"My dear, we will get you moved straight away." Minerva congratulated herself that you could hardly hear the quaver in her voice. "After which, we will get to the bottom of this."
Hermione thanked her, and stood up in preparation to depart.
"Not so fast, dearie. You are going to see Poppy right away." She anticipated Hermione's protests, and waved her hand. "I won't hear it. Even if you aren't ill, it is best to be sure. Poppy just returned from her holiday the day before yesterday, so she will be able to see you. Off to the hospital wing with you."
Feeling oddly as though she had regressed back to her school days, Hermione did as she was told.
The faint exclamation "Get back here right now, or there will be clothes!" floated down to Hermione as she made her dizzying way down that blasted staircase.
It was better to cooperate, anyway. What if the Headmistress ever discovered the real reason for her flush?
Hermione shuddered at the thought, and made haste to the hospital wing.
A/N: My life has been a bit...bleh recently. Nothing too awful, just stress, and business, and general AHHHHHHH! What I'm getting at is that a review would make–not just my day–but my whole LIFE at the moment. Enough guilt for you? Good. :D