If Hell Froze Over...

If Hell Froze Over...

Chapter One: Blaise and Baths

    Hermione usually got her way. She was very bright and an only child which insured she always got what she always wanted. She after all was a Gryffindor prefect(who was well on her way to becoming head girl), had gotten 11 OWLS, and had two great friends who always were ready to break the rules. However today she was having a bad morning. No, strike that, a very bad morning. And neither Ron or Harry could help her.

    “I swear to Merlin! Open this wretched door right now! I signed up for this bathroom, I’ll have you know! It’s rightfully mine! I am a PREFECT! Don’t you understand what that means or you retar-”

    “First of all Granger, I can’t open the door, I’m in the tub. Second of all, I too am a prefect. Third of all it’s unattractive to swear. And you shouldn’t make fun of the handicapped. It’ politically incorrect”

    Hermione was dumbfounded. Never before had someone actually called her politically incorrect. After all, she had a weekly subscription to the newspaper and was by no means a dumb blonde.

    “Your face is unattractive, Zabini!” It was very unlike Hermione to retaliate but, she was a girl! And after an insult like that she desperately needed that bathroom. She needed privacy, a chance to debate if she was in fact politically incorrect.

     The bathroom she shared with Parvati and Lavender was well, sickening. Pink poufs littered the floor no matter how many cleaning spells Hermione tried, Witch Weeklies were piled haphazardly on the floor and half-used tubes of Witches’ Wonder mascara and Steaming Sorcerous lip gloss were everywhere.    

    “I do love your compliments, Granger. Did Potter and Weasley help you think that up?”

    “Obviously they didn’t because they are not here,” Hermione said in an irritated tone,”I’ll have you know that I signed up for this bathroom. It’s rightfully mine.”

    “Well, right now it’s obviously occupied. You’d think that Godric, Helga, Salazar, and Rowena would have put more Prefect bathrooms in this Castle,” Zabini said laying stress on the word “obviously”.        

    Hermione had often wondered this thought but, she wasn’t going to agree with Zabini on anything, let alone the importance of Prefect Bathrooms in Hogwarts Castle.

    “Fine. I give up. I’ll take a bath in the Dormitory Bathrooms. With cold water and grotesque tile. Yellow and pink tile,” said Hermione trying to guilt Zabini into giving her the bathroom.

    “Do you honestly think that a picture like that could guilt me into giving you this bathroom. I’m already in the tub with quaffle sized bubbles and lots of blue and pink foam. And I intend to be here till I’m all pruny,” Zabini said rather impishly.

    “That is a positively manly bath. Did you bring your sea salts? Or are you more of a aromatherapy man?” Zabini was not going to get the best of Hermione.            

    “Er-.”

    “Bye. Zabini. Don’t drown. I don’t want that bathroom swarming with investigators tomorrow preventing my bath.”

    “Whatever you say Granger.”            

    Hermione stomped off to Gryffindor Tower. What gives him the right to do that? I’m a Prefect. Well he is too, but that is beside the point. I reserved that bathroom. Not him. Honestly, there is no respect in this school. If I never saw him again it would be too soon.

    Little did Hermione know that she would be seeing him. Quite a lot, actually and dreadfully soon.