Chapter 3

"The Great Romance," proclaims Violet as she enters my portrait space, "is Dead."

Too dramatic by half, is Vi, but unfortunately, she has a point.

It's been a week since the Coven Fortnightly, and Vi and I have been eagerly awaiting advancements in the romance between Madam Hooch and Professor Sinistra - - we've been certain that Madam Hooch would decide in favour of proceeding. Vi has been regularly checking the staff room and the Astronomy Tower, and we've recruited the captain of the 1889 World-Cup-winning British Quidditch team, whose portrait hangs in the Field House, to bring us daily reports from that quarter, but so far. . .no cheer.

"The two of them were alone in the staff room just now," Violet continues, "and it would have been the perfect opportunity for Madam Hooch. She asked Professor Sinistra if she had any fun plans for her Saturday night, and I was sure that she was going to suggest a 'date,' as they say nowadays, but she didn't! She only talked about what a busy week it had been and how she's thinking of offering a special Beaters' workshop to the players of all Houses."

"Well, perhaps she intended to ask and just lost her nerve for the moment," I suggest, though I don't really believe it.

"Oh, when does Madam Hooch ever lack nerve?" Violet snaps, which is what I had been thinking, too, though not nearly so petulantly.

"Temper, temper, Vi," I say gently, but this well-intentioned comment just seems to annoy her.

"It's not a lack of nerve," she rages on. "It's clearly lack of interest."

I could point out that, based on what we heard at the Fortnightly, Madam Hooch's interest is definitely there - - what seems to be missing is the intention to pursue that interest. But I don't think Violet would respond very well just now to any parsing of linguistic niceties. Sadly, when Vi is in snit, she's simply beyond reason. And in any case, she isn't completely wrong: the romance does seem to have stalled before it even got moving.

"Then it's up to us to do something," I say, and I say it decisively. (People of Violet's class always respond well to directives; they aren't at their best when the initiative must be theirs. This is not a snobbish statement, but merely one of fact.)

"Yes," Violet says happily, her temper restored. "It's up to us. How shall we proceed?"

I take a bonbon from my little silver dish and offer her one, and thus fortified, we draw our heads together and plan.

Since dear Vi and I are nothing if not romantics at heart, I'm sure it will come as no surprise that we do our bit to encourage such pairings-up. We like promote happiness where we can. (And I'm happy to report that we've even had one or two little successes in our attempts to play Cupid, though we still haven't managed to do anything to spice up the love life of our dear headmaster. But I do not despair. I think he and Mr Elphias Doge would make a lovely couple.)

As for the situation more immediately to hand, we decide on a direct approach. Violet will speak to Madam Hooch (who is an early riser and always has a solitary cuppa in the staff room of a morning), and I will speak to Professor Sinistra when she passes my portrait on her way to the library.

- / - / -

My first opportunity occurs the very next night, Sunday, after curfew, when the children are all safely in the common room. Though the library is closed to students after eight o'clock, it's open for staff, and for the last three Sundays running, Professor Sinistra has availed herself of the chance for some quiet reading.

I have given a great deal of thought to the best approach, and when I hear the professor's footsteps in the corridor, I draw my chaise close to the edge of the frame, fluff my pink skirts, and unfurl my Japanese fan. I've taken care to look my most alluring; even though I'll be speaking on someone else's behalf, I've found that when it comes to romantic persuasion, a little judicious flirtation never comes amiss.

"Professor Sinistra?" I call in my sweetest tones. "Could you spare a moment? Over here, dear, on the wall."

She comes up to my portrait. This time, I'm prepared to see the trousers, which are clearly visible because she's wearing just a short robe - - a waistcoat, really - - over a white shirt and a Hufflepuff cravat. She smiles, revealing pleasant laugh lines around her eyes, and I see that Madam Hooch is correct: the cowlick in her hair is definitely "cute."

"Yes?" she says. "How can I help you, Fa - -, er. . . ."

Her face flushes, and I know that she had been about to say, "Fat Lady," but I don't take offense. I don't mind the moniker. It acknowledges my gentility, and I understand that the phrase "Voluptuous Lady" or "Pleasingly-Plump Lady" would probably be too difficult for the firsties to wrap their little lips around.

"Permit me to introduce myself," I say, and lean forward just enough to give a discreet glimpse of décolletage. "I am Arethusa Glomp, of the Liverpudlian Glomps. A Gryffindor old girl, and Guardian of the Common Room since 1922."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Glomp," she replies, with very proper politeness. I am approving of this woman more and more. "I'm Aurora Sinistra, the new professor of Astronomy."

I nod and tap my fan on the portrait frame. In the 3D world, of course, I would offer my hand, but there are some courtesies that simply cannot survive the transition to 2D.

"I hope you will excuse the impertinence of what I am about to say," I continue. "But when it comes to matters of the heart, I prefer not to stand on ceremony. The life of a 3D is short, and you should not waste it by being alone when the opportunity for fulfilling love is close by."

Professor Sinistra looks a little baffled, which I suppose is to be expected, considering the circumstances. After all, she has no idea of Madam Hooch's interest. But I don't want to spell things out; I'd hate to take away the pleasure of a budding romance, the frisson of excitement that one feels to one's very toes as one faces the delightful uncertainty of "does she or doesn't she?"

So I try indirection. "It is possible," I say carefully, "that a lady of the castle is currently attracted to you. She is, shall we say, smitten? But she is uncertain of her reception, and I thought I'd just make you aware of the situation. In case you'd like to help things along."

The lighting in the corridor is not the best, but I do believe the professor has turned a little pale. "A lady of the castle?" she says. "Interested in me? Oh, Merlin, you're not talking about Professor McGonagall, are you? Did she ask you to speak to me?"

Professor McGonagall? Good heavens, wherever did she get that idea? Ah, no doubt from my House affiliation. I hasten to correct the error.

"No, no, not at all," I assure her. "Professor McGonagall is not a. . .what I mean to say is, I believe she is attracted only to gentlemen. You know. The male of the species."

"Then who - -?"

"No, do not ask, my dear, for I shall say no more. I do hope you understand that I am not trying to meddle; I'm just trying to promote the happiness of everyone in our little Hogwarts family."

"But, Miss Glomp - - "

I think that at this point, discretion may be the better part of valour, so I stand and drop a little curtsey. "And now I'll bid you good evening, Professor Sinistra," I say, and cannot resist adding, "sweet dreams," as I step out of my frame.

There. I've done my part, and I trust Violet has done hers, or soon will. I've planted the seed; its sprouting is up to time, chance, and Aphrodite.

Not to mention Madam Hooch.

- / - / -

Violet, it turns out, was having her little chat at about the same time as I was talking to Professor Sinistra. I suspect hers didn't go as well as mine did; at least, Violet is not very forthcoming about the details. Probably she was too blunt (poor thing, diplomacy is not her strong suit). But then again, Madam Hooch is rather blunt herself, so I hope for the best.

But the days slip by, and there's no news. We can't even get our usual information from the Coven Fortnightly, since its next two meetings take place in Madam Pince's room and at Madam Bones's flat, where neither Violet nor I has a frame or a portrait friend good enough to let us borrow theirs.

"It appears that Cupid's arrow did not fly," I finally observe sadly to Violet on a chilly evening in early March. It has been a grey, snowy day, and I am feeling a bit down in the dumps. "Madam Hooch and Professor Sinistra seem destined for cold, solitary beds. It's depressing, Violet."

"You need a pick-me-up," says Vi, patting my hand. "I'll just hop down to the kitchens for some hot chocolate, shall I?"

And off she goes, to fetch us hot chocolate from the quaint little paintings of food that adorn the kitchen walls. Dear girl. I collect my bottle of spirits from behind the settee (it wouldn't do to have the children see it, of course, yet one does feel the need for a nip of strengthener now and then during the workday). I'll add just the weensiest splash to the hot chocolate when it arrives, and then Vi and I can sit cosily together until bedtime. This is going to be a night that requires the sharing of body warmth, I can tell.

But in less time than I would have thought possible even if she'd taken the shortcut behind the portrait of the Hogsmeade Hunt (now defunct, which is a pity from a social point of view, but a boon for the foxes and nifflers), Violet is back, breathless. And empty-handed.

"Where is our hot chocolate?" I ask.

"Never mind that now. Come with me at once!" she exclaims.

"Come with you? Nonsense, it's nearly curfew, the children will be coming in soon, I can't - - "

"Arethusa Glomp!" she shrieks. "You will come with me this instant!"

A little shiver goes through me. It isn't often that Violet becomes masterful, but I find it rather exciting when she does.

"Very well," I say meekly, rising, and she seizes my hand to pull me along pell-mell through the castle's maze of portraits and connecting passageways. I'm quite lost once we leave behind the environs of Gryffindor Tower, and I feel disoriented.

"Violet! More slowly, if you please!" I finally beg. "Where are you taking me?"

"Shhhh!" She stops so suddenly that I nearly cannon into her, and would have, too, were I not a woman who is nimble on my feet. I see light spilling into our portrait passage from a frame just in front of us.

"Now peek out," Vi instructs in a whisper, "but don't be seen."

I inch forward to the frame and peer cautiously round the edge.

We are the corridor near the school's trophy room, but at the moment, I'm not interested in testimonials to past glory. I'm interested only in the sight before my eyes:

It's Madam Hooch. And Professor Sinistra.

They are in each other's arms. Kissing. Madam Hooch is pressing the professor against the wall, and I do believe. . .oh, my, yes. . .that Professor Sinistra has insinuated one trouser-clad leg between Madam Hooch's thighs (perhaps trousers for women have their benefits after all).

Well, well, well. It's about time.

I feel Violet looking over my shoulder, and as we watch, the two women opposite us break apart.

"Maybe we should take this somewhere a little less public," Madam Hooch gasps.

"I think so," replies Professor Sinistra, reaching out a finger to trace the line of Madam Hooch's jaw. "The walls have eyes in this castle. Literally."

Madam Hooch chuckles. "True. Though you have to admit, sometimes match-making portraits can be a good thing."

Vi beats a tattoo of victory on my shoulder - - with perhaps a trifle more force than necessary, but I understand the sentiment.

Professor Sinistra's response is another quick kiss, and Madam Hooch reaches up to ruffle the adorable cowlick.

"My rooms, then?" Madam Hooch says, nuzzling Professor Sinistra's neck above her House tie. "No portraits there."

(True, more's the pity.)

"Mmmm, yes, your rooms," answers Professor Sinistra. "Tonight's a good night for a warm bed."

They move off down the corridor, arms linked. We watch them until they are out of sight.

They're right - - tonight is a good night for a warm bed.

I take my Violet's hand, and together we head towards ours.

~~The End