A/N: This is in response to WIKTT's "The Meeting" challenge. It's my first challenge response, my first Severus/Hermione, and my 2nd HP fanfic. I think they're a bit out of character, but it was fun to write.
*****
Not Quite A Shrinking Solution
*****
Moaning Myrtle was obviously upset. Dreadfully upset. She hadn't even been that upset when Harry Potter had rejected her in his seventh year. Although he had tried to be tactful, it was difficult to tell a ghost that he wasn't interested in her because she was, well, a ghost, and that he had a perfectly wonderful living, breathing, flesh and blood girlfriend. That time she had flooded the entire corridor outside of her bathroom, and those who absolutely had to use that corridor had found themselves traveling by enchanted boat for the better part of a month.
But this time something had truly upset the temperamental, poorly-adjusted-to-the-spectral-plane ghost far worse than being rejected by the Boy Who Lived, and in response she had kindly not flooded the corridor outside her bathroom, but had instead flooded the plumbing system of the entire castle. Not once, but repeatedly. After attempts by the castle's many other resident ghosts failed, a spectral psychologist had been called in from the Ministry of Magic to attempt to appease the histrionic ghost and determine what exactly had been done to upset her so.
In the meantime, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had called a staff meeting to assess the problem and announce his solution to their current plumbing situation.
"As you are all aware, our dear ghost Myrtle has taken it upon herself to flood our plumbing. While the cause isn't yet clear, the fact remains that our plumbing system is flooded and unable to bear any further load until the situation is resolved. As I, for one, do not relish the idea of chamber pots and bathing in the lake-"
From his customary spot in the corner Professor Severus Snape could be heard muttering his disgust and threatening the overly emotional ghost with all sorts of foul punishments.
"If you could inflict further, dare I say, bodily harm to a ghost, I am certain that Sir Nicholas would graciously allow you to decapitate him properly, Severus." Professor Hermione Granger volunteered cheekily. "After all, he could then finally realize his 515 year-old dream of joining the Headless Hunt."
Severus scowled in disgust and retreated further into his chair near the staff room fireplace without another word. Although the staff found him slightly less bristly, ten years free of living in the shadow of Voldemort had done naught to change the man. He was still the feared Potions Master at Hogwarts who seemed to delight in scaring children into quiet submission and publicly among the staff dreading the day that the first of Neville Longbottom's progeny started at the school.
"I have conjured up three bathrooms for the use of the school in this troubled time," Dumbledore continued once the interruption had been resolved, looking around at his staff, the unmistakable twinkle in his blue eyes. "One for the male students, one for the females, and a third for the staff."
The room erupted like a giant howler.
"You can't possibly expect that to work, Albus!" Professor Minerva McGonagall exclaimed sharply. "The students will kill each other inside of a few hours! Fostering inter-house relations aside-"
"Yes, Minerva, Merlin forbid that your darling, coddled Gryffindors should have to lower themselves to sharing hygiene facilities with a group of despicable Slytherins." Severus' tone was silky, sarcastic, and dangerous. "Or is it rather your own compunction about the thought of possibly showering with Snape that has your fur so ruffled?"
Minerva's face pinched itself into a tight pucker as the Head of Slytherin House continued to bait her.
"I had not realized my charm extended to Transfiguration professors nearly twice my age, but fear not, fair lady, I have no desire to shatter your virtue," Severus waved a long-fingered hand dismissively in her direction. "Gryffindors hold little appeal to me."
Sensing that it was best to diffuse the situation, despite the entertainment value of watching Severus and Minerva duel with one another, Dumbledore once again spoke.
"It will have to do. I am a powerful wizard, but even I cannot conjure up enough bathrooms to equal what the castle has under normal circumstances," The twinkle was bright in the headmaster's eye as he continued. "It will be like what the Muggles call 'Summer Camp'."
"Merlin save us," Severus muttered at the comparison, acting in the eyes of the rest of the staff like the petulant child he was forever complaining his students to be.
"Now, Severus, be thankful that I don't carry the analogy to its full completion. Although the idea of our students building camaraderie while roasting marshmallows over an open fire is appealing, I daresay that in the middle of January, it might be a bit on the nippy side for that."
Severus grumbled, but there were no more caustic remarks forthcoming.
"Very well then," Albus beamed, looking around the room at the terror-stricken faces of his faculty. "I'll leave it to the heads of house to inform their students of the new arrangements, and for the need for modesty as the temporary bathrooms are right off of the Great Hall."
*****
The whole situation reeked of insanity. If she didn't know better, and she did, but the thought still crossed her mind, Hermione would have sworn that the Headmaster had planned the whole fiasco just for a bit of fun. It had been ten years since the defeat of Lord Voldemort, and those ten years had passed quite uneventfully at Hogwarts. It wouldn't surprise her in the least if the Headmaster had gotten a bit bored. Not that life was completely serene and peaceful at a school whose primary sport consisted of Quidditch, and although there hadn't been a Longbottom in attendance for the last decade, there were at least twenty others in that time who had exhibited the same tendency to create as much chaos in Potions as Neville Longbottom had managed during his own tenure as a student. And that wasn't counting those who mimicked Seamus Finnegan and blew themselves and the objects around them up with failed attempts at spells learned in Charms.
Ah, but reminiscing wasn't going to change the fact that she hadn't had a proper shower in two days, and like the Headmaster, Hermione wasn't keen on the idea of bathing in the lake where the giant squid and a large number of grindylows and other sundry creatures claimed residence. And, she remembered, this was her free period and no one else was likely to be in the staff bathroom showering at this time. She smiled at the idea of having some much-needed privacy and with the only thought in mind being to scrub the grime from her body, she gathered up her favorite shower goods, some towels and clean robes and set off for the temporary staff bathroom.
*****
Severus charged up the stairwell from the dungeon, fury on his face, his robes saturated with some potion or another. Students parted in terror as he stormed past them and into the staff bathroom, a single thought on his mind: to get a shower and whatever concoction that Mr. Horencleaver had managed to brew off of his skin. It was making his skin itch and crawl, and he was certain that it wasn't the shrinking solution that the potions class had supposed to have been preparing. At least he hoped that it wasn't.
He had no thoughts of modesty in mind and no thoughts that there might be anyone else in the baths as he tore off his soiled robes, wrenched his feet free of boots and socks and stepped into the shower. Turning the taps to the highest setting, he stepped back into the spray of the hot water and felt the crawling sensation on his skin begin to subside. He turned to find a bar of soap to further rid himself of the aftereffects of the potion that the pitiful excuse for a potions student had kindly exploded all over his person.
As he reached for the soap, he discovered that he was not alone in the showers. His eyes met hers and she let out a piercing scream.
"YOU!" She bellowed after the scream subsided, and he was taken aback for a moment that she was even capable of such tones. "What are you doing in here!" It wasn't a question, but he was about to answer when she continued. "You're supposed to be teaching your class!"
His eyes took in the sight of Professor Granger's body as she stood there yelling like a banshee at him. Before she could catch him staring and further scream at him, he met her eyes with his own, and held her gaze, if for nothing more than to keep them both from allowing said gazes to roam over the other's body.
"A potions accident, Professor," He stated simply. "It seems that Mr. Horencleaver and Mr. Longbottom share something in common besides being in the same House. Something, I daresay, went wrong with his shrinking solution, and it exploded as I walked by to-" He was interrupted by the sound of her giggling.
"A shrinking solution?" Her eyes had broken his gaze and were roaming their way across his body. "Oh, no, I'm pretty sure that wasn't a shrinking solution."
"Professor Granger!" He snapped at her, realizing both what she was doing and what her words meant.
"Hermione, please." She told him, grinning and admiring the view that she was getting of the man that had tormented her in class for seven years, and who had hardly a kind word to say to her since she'd taken the Charms position three years prior. She had admired and respected him since his part in the downfall of Voldemort was made public, and had often fantasized about a relationship between the two of them. His body was lean, perhaps even a bit skinny as she knew that he often skipped meals when he would get involved in his potions brewing. Taut muscles resided just under the surface of his pale skin, and she longed to touch them, to feel the sinews move under her own hands.
"Under the circumstances, I believe that's appropriate," She continued, grabbing a bottle of shampoo and moving towards him. "That soap will get the solution off of your skin, but you shouldn't use it on your hair, Severus."
He tingled at her words and reached out to take the shampoo from her grasp. She shivered at the touch of his fingers gently touching hers and pulled the bottle away from him.
Tipping it upside down, she let a dollop of the red cleanser fall into her palm and tossed the bottle itself to the floor of the shower. He swallowed as she moved closer to him and his eyes instinctively closed as her hands went up to massage the strawberry scented shampoo into his hair and scalp. This wasn't happening to him. He couldn't believe that this... this... siren was interrupting his shower. This siren who had been his student a decade prior and who he had considered off limits because of that. But now, she was stark naked in the shower with him, and after an initial shriek of shock, she seemed to be enjoying herself. With him. Greasy, slimy, bastard potions master Snape or some variation thereof that her friends had called him for 7 years, an image that he worked hard to cultivate. It was startling, to be sure. But he found that it was not entirely unwelcome.
"Hermione," he whispered above the sound of the running water.
"Hmm?" She asked, her fingers working now to rinse the cleanser out of his hair.
"Slytherins don't use strawberry shampoo." That was just wonderful. He'd opened his mouth to hit her with some scathing remark and that was all that he could come up with? Some foolishly sophomoric drivel about her shampoo choice? Merlin, he was lost.
She laughed at that. "I didn't think Gryffindors held much appeal for you either," she told him. "But it seems that this one must hold some." Her fingers tickled as she ran them down his neck and then down his back. "Unless you think that trying two new things in one day is too much for you?"
She blushed at her own boldness, thankful that his eyes were still shut. She couldn't believe she was doing this, and even more that he was letting her. Perhaps Mr. Horencleaver had managed to create some sort of lust potion by mistake.
His hands moved to rest on her hips as she teased him with her own fingers. "I think that if were to die from these new things, I would die a happy man."
*****
"Fifty points to Gryffindor, Mr. Horencleaver," Severus groaned much later as she kissed him again. Perhaps flooded plumbing and potions accidents weren't so bad after all.
*****
"I believe you can restore the plumbing now, Myrtle," Dumbledore told her, entering the ghost's bathroom sanctuary.
Moaning Myrtle giggled mischievously at the Headmaster. "Did it work?"
"Yes, Ms. Megblath, it did. Far better than I had ever expected," Dumbledore chuckled. "And I don't expect that Professor Snape will ever forget the debt he owes to Mr. Horencleaver either."
* Finis *
Moaning Myrtle was obviously upset. Dreadfully upset. She hadn't even been that upset when Harry Potter had rejected her in his seventh year. Although he had tried to be tactful, it was difficult to tell a ghost that he wasn't interested in her because she was, well, a ghost, and that he had a perfectly wonderful living, breathing, flesh and blood girlfriend. That time she had flooded the entire corridor outside of her bathroom, and those who absolutely had to use that corridor had found themselves traveling by enchanted boat for the better part of a month.
But this time something had truly upset the temperamental, poorly-adjusted-to-the-spectral-plane ghost far worse than being rejected by the Boy Who Lived, and in response she had kindly not flooded the corridor outside her bathroom, but had instead flooded the plumbing system of the entire castle. Not once, but repeatedly. After attempts by the castle's many other resident ghosts failed, a spectral psychologist had been called in from the Ministry of Magic to attempt to appease the histrionic ghost and determine what exactly had been done to upset her so.
In the meantime, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had called a staff meeting to assess the problem and announce his solution to their current plumbing situation.
"As you are all aware, our dear ghost Myrtle has taken it upon herself to flood our plumbing. While the cause isn't yet clear, the fact remains that our plumbing system is flooded and unable to bear any further load until the situation is resolved. As I, for one, do not relish the idea of chamber pots and bathing in the lake-"
From his customary spot in the corner Professor Severus Snape could be heard muttering his disgust and threatening the overly emotional ghost with all sorts of foul punishments.
"If you could inflict further, dare I say, bodily harm to a ghost, I am certain that Sir Nicholas would graciously allow you to decapitate him properly, Severus." Professor Hermione Granger volunteered cheekily. "After all, he could then finally realize his 515 year-old dream of joining the Headless Hunt."
Severus scowled in disgust and retreated further into his chair near the staff room fireplace without another word. Although the staff found him slightly less bristly, ten years free of living in the shadow of Voldemort had done naught to change the man. He was still the feared Potions Master at Hogwarts who seemed to delight in scaring children into quiet submission and publicly among the staff dreading the day that the first of Neville Longbottom's progeny started at the school.
"I have conjured up three bathrooms for the use of the school in this troubled time," Dumbledore continued once the interruption had been resolved, looking around at his staff, the unmistakable twinkle in his blue eyes. "One for the male students, one for the females, and a third for the staff."
The room erupted like a giant howler.
"You can't possibly expect that to work, Albus!" Professor Minerva McGonagall exclaimed sharply. "The students will kill each other inside of a few hours! Fostering inter-house relations aside-"
"Yes, Minerva, Merlin forbid that your darling, coddled Gryffindors should have to lower themselves to sharing hygiene facilities with a group of despicable Slytherins." Severus' tone was silky, sarcastic, and dangerous. "Or is it rather your own compunction about the thought of possibly showering with Snape that has your fur so ruffled?"
Minerva's face pinched itself into a tight pucker as the Head of Slytherin House continued to bait her.
"I had not realized my charm extended to Transfiguration professors nearly twice my age, but fear not, fair lady, I have no desire to shatter your virtue," Severus waved a long-fingered hand dismissively in her direction. "Gryffindors hold little appeal to me."
Sensing that it was best to diffuse the situation, despite the entertainment value of watching Severus and Minerva duel with one another, Dumbledore once again spoke.
"It will have to do. I am a powerful wizard, but even I cannot conjure up enough bathrooms to equal what the castle has under normal circumstances," The twinkle was bright in the headmaster's eye as he continued. "It will be like what the Muggles call 'Summer Camp'."
"Merlin save us," Severus muttered at the comparison, acting in the eyes of the rest of the staff like the petulant child he was forever complaining his students to be.
"Now, Severus, be thankful that I don't carry the analogy to its full completion. Although the idea of our students building camaraderie while roasting marshmallows over an open fire is appealing, I daresay that in the middle of January, it might be a bit on the nippy side for that."
Severus grumbled, but there were no more caustic remarks forthcoming.
"Very well then," Albus beamed, looking around the room at the terror-stricken faces of his faculty. "I'll leave it to the heads of house to inform their students of the new arrangements, and for the need for modesty as the temporary bathrooms are right off of the Great Hall."
The whole situation reeked of insanity. If she didn't know better, and she did, but the thought still crossed her mind, Hermione would have sworn that the Headmaster had planned the whole fiasco just for a bit of fun. It had been ten years since the defeat of Lord Voldemort, and those ten years had passed quite uneventfully at Hogwarts. It wouldn't surprise her in the least if the Headmaster had gotten a bit bored. Not that life was completely serene and peaceful at a school whose primary sport consisted of Quidditch, and although there hadn't been a Longbottom in attendance for the last decade, there were at least twenty others in that time who had exhibited the same tendency to create as much chaos in Potions as Neville Longbottom had managed during his own tenure as a student. And that wasn't counting those who mimicked Seamus Finnegan and blew themselves and the objects around them up with failed attempts at spells learned in Charms.
Ah, but reminiscing wasn't going to change the fact that she hadn't had a proper shower in two days, and like the Headmaster, Hermione wasn't keen on the idea of bathing in the lake where the giant squid and a large number of grindylows and other sundry creatures claimed residence. And, she remembered, this was her free period and no one else was likely to be in the staff bathroom showering at this time. She smiled at the idea of having some much-needed privacy and with the only thought in mind being to scrub the grime from her body, she gathered up her favorite shower goods, some towels and clean robes and set off for the temporary staff bathroom.
Severus charged up the stairwell from the dungeon, fury on his face, his robes saturated with some potion or another. Students parted in terror as he stormed past them and into the staff bathroom, a single thought on his mind: to get a shower and whatever concoction that Mr. Horencleaver had managed to brew off of his skin. It was making his skin itch and crawl, and he was certain that it wasn't the shrinking solution that the potions class had supposed to have been preparing. At least he hoped that it wasn't.
He had no thoughts of modesty in mind and no thoughts that there might be anyone else in the baths as he tore off his soiled robes, wrenched his feet free of boots and socks and stepped into the shower. Turning the taps to the highest setting, he stepped back into the spray of the hot water and felt the crawling sensation on his skin begin to subside. He turned to find a bar of soap to further rid himself of the aftereffects of the potion that the pitiful excuse for a potions student had kindly exploded all over his person.
As he reached for the soap, he discovered that he was not alone in the showers. His eyes met hers and she let out a piercing scream.
"YOU!" She bellowed after the scream subsided, and he was taken aback for a moment that she was even capable of such tones. "What are you doing in here!" It wasn't a question, but he was about to answer when she continued. "You're supposed to be teaching your class!"
His eyes took in the sight of Professor Granger's body as she stood there yelling like a banshee at him. Before she could catch him staring and further scream at him, he met her eyes with his own, and held her gaze, if for nothing more than to keep them both from allowing said gazes to roam over the other's body.
"A potions accident, Professor," He stated simply. "It seems that Mr. Horencleaver and Mr. Longbottom share something in common besides being in the same House. Something, I daresay, went wrong with his shrinking solution, and it exploded as I walked by to-" He was interrupted by the sound of her giggling.
"A shrinking solution?" Her eyes had broken his gaze and were roaming their way across his body. "Oh, no, I'm pretty sure that wasn't a shrinking solution."
"Professor Granger!" He snapped at her, realizing both what she was doing and what her words meant.
"Hermione, please." She told him, grinning and admiring the view that she was getting of the man that had tormented her in class for seven years, and who had hardly a kind word to say to her since she'd taken the Charms position three years prior. She had admired and respected him since his part in the downfall of Voldemort was made public, and had often fantasized about a relationship between the two of them. His body was lean, perhaps even a bit skinny as she knew that he often skipped meals when he would get involved in his potions brewing. Taut muscles resided just under the surface of his pale skin, and she longed to touch them, to feel the sinews move under her own hands.
"Under the circumstances, I believe that's appropriate," She continued, grabbing a bottle of shampoo and moving towards him. "That soap will get the solution off of your skin, but you shouldn't use it on your hair, Severus."
He tingled at her words and reached out to take the shampoo from her grasp. She shivered at the touch of his fingers gently touching hers and pulled the bottle away from him.
Tipping it upside down, she let a dollop of the red cleanser fall into her palm and tossed the bottle itself to the floor of the shower. He swallowed as she moved closer to him and his eyes instinctively closed as her hands went up to massage the strawberry scented shampoo into his hair and scalp. This wasn't happening to him. He couldn't believe that this... this... siren was interrupting his shower. This siren who had been his student a decade prior and who he had considered off limits because of that. But now, she was stark naked in the shower with him, and after an initial shriek of shock, she seemed to be enjoying herself. With him. Greasy, slimy, bastard potions master Snape or some variation thereof that her friends had called him for 7 years, an image that he worked hard to cultivate. It was startling, to be sure. But he found that it was not entirely unwelcome.
"Hermione," he whispered above the sound of the running water.
"Hmm?" She asked, her fingers working now to rinse the cleanser out of his hair.
"Slytherins don't use strawberry shampoo." That was just wonderful. He'd opened his mouth to hit her with some scathing remark and that was all that he could come up with? Some foolishly sophomoric drivel about her shampoo choice? Merlin, he was lost.
She laughed at that. "I didn't think Gryffindors held much appeal for you either," she told him. "But it seems that this one must hold some." Her fingers tickled as she ran them down his neck and then down his back. "Unless you think that trying two new things in one day is too much for you?"
She blushed at her own boldness, thankful that his eyes were still shut. She couldn't believe she was doing this, and even more that he was letting her. Perhaps Mr. Horencleaver had managed to create some sort of lust potion by mistake.
His hands moved to rest on her hips as she teased him with her own fingers. "I think that if were to die from these new things, I would die a happy man."
"Fifty points to Gryffindor, Mr. Horencleaver," Severus groaned much later as she kissed him again. Perhaps flooded plumbing and potions accidents weren't so bad after all.
"I believe you can restore the plumbing now, Myrtle," Dumbledore told her, entering the ghost's bathroom sanctuary.
Moaning Myrtle giggled mischievously at the Headmaster. "Did it work?"
"Yes, Ms. Megblath, it did. Far better than I had ever expected," Dumbledore chuckled. "And I don't expect that Professor Snape will ever forget the debt he owes to Mr. Horencleaver either."