Rochelle Gets All The Guys

Christmas was upon them. The decorations in Hogwarts were the most enchanting ever, with twelve sparkling Christmas trees placed around the Great Hall, adorned with everything from tap-dancing poinsettias to clear, glittering unicorn horns. The ceiling of the Great Hall showed that the sky was a misty, swirling white. Just outside the sturdy doors of the Great Hall, two fat, magical, never-melting snowmen were enchanted to sing and dance to "Grandma got Run Over By a Reindeer" whenever someone said "Professor Trelawney's a fake" within earshot. Professor McGonagall found this absolutely hilarious, and the Hall was filled with song quite often, especially when the Transfiguration teacher walked by.

Everyone was a little happier:

In the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Harry were sitting at one of the round, mahogany tables, putting the finishing touches on their Divination homework. To their right, Rochelle and Ginny were sitting in two of the squashy scarlet armchairs in front of the roaring fire, completing a complicated-looking number chart for Arithmancy. Just as Harry finished jotting down that at 3 o'clock on Friday he would be maimed by a niffler, he was disturbed by a loud tapping noise. He looked up to see a large, tawny owl pecking at one of the windows, a thick white envelope tied to it's leg. Ron quickly stood up and let the exhausted-looking owl into the common room, where it gratefully accepted a swig of water from a little dish that a concerned Ginny offered. Harry opened the envelope, which was adressed to him. He read it quickly and grinned widely.

"What is it?" demanded Rochelle, the old maddening superiority back in her sparkling blue eyes.

"It's from Hermione. It says that she feels really sorry for not being here for Christmas, and she'll definitely come for Easter break. She reminded me that she would have no problem with me bringing someone else, and that she wants me to have a good time," said Harry, looking ecstatic.

Rochelle stood behind one of the arm chairs so that everyone wouldn't see her clench her fists.

Ron had stopped chasing after Rochelle, though no one understood why. Except Rochelle, that is. She had been able to tell that Ron was gay for quite a while. That was one of the reasons why she had been so turned-off when he flirted with her. She had a feeling that he had had a crush on Harry. But she could see that he was no longer interested in Harry. She wondered who Ron's new love interest would be.

Ginny was happy because she had a new, older, more sophisticated friend, aka Rochelle. They had been spending a lot of time together since that game of Gobstones. Rochelle was horrified at first to realise that she enjoyed Ginny's company, but after a while she stopped thinking about being superior and just enjoyed herself.

Draco was strutting around like he was the Master of the Universe, even more so than usual. Rochelle, of course, was the only one that knew why. Only Rochelle was unhappy, as Christmas drew closer and Draco's cocky grin grew wider.

* * *

Harry bid goodbye to Ron (off to Romania) and most of the other Hogwarts students six days before Christmas, knowing he would see them at the Christmas Ball. He decided to amble outside onto the grounds to practice some Quidditch by himself, since all the other Gryffindor team members had left for winter break. Two hours later he came inside feeling particularly grimy and weary. He was in desperate need of a shower. No, not a shower, a bath. He slipped on his silvery invisibility cloak(he knew he was allowed to go out at eight o'clock to take a bath, but he just didn't want to have to explain how he really wanted a bath to any patrolling teachers) and skirted around the doorway out into the corridor.

He was halfway to the boy's toilet when he thought that he didn't want a bath. At least, not that kind of bath. Not a normal bath. He wanted a super relaxing bath. A bath where he wasn't likely to be disturbed. A bath with... Purple foam? He turned around and headed towards the Prefect's bathroom. He was standing in front of the door when he realized he didn't know this year's password.

"Pine fresh," he mumbled halfheartedly, seriously doubting that it would be the same password.

Well, Hogwarts obviously didn't worry much about people sneaking into the Prefect's bath, since the door opened at Harry's mumble. He stepped inside and sighed happily, stepping behind the towel rack to undress.

Just as he was pulling down his snitch-patterned boxers, the door creaked open. Harry ducked behind the fluffy white towels, praying that whoever it was wouldn't see him. He heard the different taps creaking on and off. He finally had the nerve to peek between the towels and see who it was. He gasped. It was Rochelle.

She must of found out the password, somehow thought Harry. Then another thought that he quickly regretted thinking entered his mind, as he gazed at the blurry silhouette of Rochelle through the thick steam, She's beautiful.

* * *

Dumbledore opened Destiny and looked over it again. It certainly described the four whom he had suspected, though he was surprised that Change was Ms. Adams, and not Ms. Granger. In fact, he didn't see Ms. Granger in Destiny at all. He searched again, his long, crooked nose almost touching the pages. Wait... here she was, a small part, in the middle of the Battle, this looked like Ms. Granger. And then... "Oh, dear," Dumbledore said. Ms. Granger was going to be in for quite a shock...

* * *

Harry came to a decision, wrapped a towel around his waist and called out reluctantly "Rochelle?"

A high-pitched scream let forth. Rochelle scrambled to find a towel and emerged from the steaming tub, looking around wildly for the voice.

"Rochelle? It's Harry," he cried, peeking out from behind the towel rack reluctantly, making sure that Rochelle was fully covered up.

"Harry?" she repeated, spotting him and stepping closer, pulling her oversized towel around her shoulders and tying it so it wouldn't slip off, "what are you doing here?"

"I came to take a bath," he said simply, the towel slipping down his waist as he stepped closer to Rochelle.

"Well, I kind of guessed that. I mean, why didn't you say anything when I came in?" Rochelle replied, attempting to keep her eyes on his face.

Harry was now a foot away from her. "I... Um... I wasn't wearing anything, and ummm," he stammered.

The thick steam had enveloped them. Harry didn't want anything to happen between him and Rochelle, but his body was reacting otherwise. He watched, as if detached, as the space between his and Rochelle's body disappeared. Her big blue eyes were closing, his wet lips were opening... Harry's lips were pressing against hers, gently first, then harder, more persistent, even needy. She pushed her body up against his and he shuddered. His hand was on her back, pulling her close, and then, as if possessed, it came to the front of her and pulled the terry-cloth towel down to her waist. Rochelle gasped as he placed his hands upon her breasts...

And then, as quickly as it had come, it was over.

"No!" Harry shouted and backed away from Rochelle.

"No! No, I have a girlfriend, Rochelle! I have a girlfriend, Hermione, and I LOVE HER! I don't mean that this was entirely your fault, Rochelle, I'm at fault, too, but... You're just too... Seductive! Now, I'm going to leave, and I never want you to mention this. Just... Just forget it ever happened, Rochelle, because this is GOING NOWHERE!" he screeched, furious.

He pulled on his clothes and stomped out of the bathroom, furious with himself. As he was leaving he told Rochelle that he still liked her as a friend, and that he would act like nothing happened. He left Rochelle with nothing but her thoughts and the purple foam at the bottom of the now-empty bathtub.