A/N: Written for the birthday of a lovely friend, this ficlet plays on the clich¨¦ of Hogwarts students using the Astronomy Tower as a trysting spot. Rating for innuendo. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: [insert witty disclaimer here].
It was a beautiful autumn night, about three and a half
weeks into the term, and Aria Sinistra, breathing a sigh of relief to get out
of the staff meeting, made her quick way down the halls towards the direction
of her tower.
It would be SO much easier, really, if Professor Dumbledore would just understand that making the Muggle Studies professor sit with Madame Hooch would inevitably end up in a loud argument over the superiority of football versus Quidditch. This wry reflection in mind, the pixielike, dark-haired woman softly padded up the narrow, winding staircase of her domain, her heart a-quiver with anticipation.
There was a blue moon tonight, sure to be quite beautiful, and Aria had every telescope set up perfectly with recording spells on each. The best pictures, of course, would be used in the book she was writing. Her mouth spread into a toothy grin-- Lunacy Made Sensible would be her Magnus Opus, and despite the catchy title, would be respected as a veritable treasure of information in its field if SHE had anything to say about it.
These happy contemplations, however, were cut short when she actually stepped into the tower room, and came to an abrupt halt as soon as she'd pushed open the door.
Tangled up by the wall were two figures, a girl with dark, curly hair and a tall, dirty-blond boy. From their state of undress and their flushed faces, it was quite apparent just what sort of activity the Astronomy professor had just walked in upon. Aria's jaw slackened as she took in the scene-- the girl's legs wrapped around the fellow's waist, her back and arms leaning against one of the telescopes, and even as the professor gave a spluttering shriek of "What in the name of Urania is this?!", they untangled themselves, and Aria's face turned a rich shade of raspberry red as their bodies separated.
Now, was that necessary? There were some aspects to students that she simply didn't wish to see! She wasn't paid enough to be treated to such eyefuls of...
She leaned against the door, one hand shielding her eyes, the other shaking in consternation in the general direction of the mortified students. "Smith! Tanner! Ten points from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor for this... this lurid display of affection!"
Angela Tanner looked anywhere but at the professor, but Zacharias Smith seemed almost unrepentent. He muttered something under his breath as he handed his classmate her tie, and Aria Sinistra clenched her hands.
"So?! What have you to say to explain yourselves?!"
"We thought you wouldn't be back for another ten minutes," Smith muttered.
The professor gave an almost sniffle. "It's MY TOWER. I just want it to be peaceful. I just want it to be left alone. Is that too much to ask?!"
"We wanted to use the third floor broom closet, but Filch came walking down the hall and nearly caught us," Tanner confessed. Aria groaned.
"Just... just get out."
The two fled. Aria sulkily fired a score of cleaning spells around her tower, and then went to inspect her telescopes.
Two minutes later, a piercing wail of anguish reverberated through the Astronomy Tower, so loud and pained that Professor Snape heard it in the dungeons, and wondered uncharitably if someone had managed to hit that lachrymose ghost Myrtle with a Sonorus charm. Even as that professor took an additional ten points off Gryffindor on the principle of the thing, the Astronomy professor knelt on the stone floor of the circular room, tragedy written in every feature.
The telescope that the girl had been leaning on had apparently been turned inward, and the recording spell, meant to capture the elusive beauty of the blue moon, had instead caught every movement of sweaty flesh against flesh in sharp relief.
"I need to go administer bubotuber pus on my eyes now," Aria whined, before clenching her jaw. "Oohh, these students will PAY... oh yes."
Random malevolent cacklings were heard in the Astronomy Tower for the rest of the night, and by the time dawn broke, a highly incensed Professor Snape had taken another thirty points from Gryffindor.
Perhaps it was because the sky had become overcast by late
afternoon. and conditions were rather less than ideal for stargazing, or
perhaps it was because Professor Sinistra had other plans. But whatever it was,
the Astronomy Tower was darkened and deserted when a couple, tangled in a
fervid embrace, made their meandering way up the winding staircase, dropping
robes, ties and other random articles of clothing in their wake. A nearby suit
of armour gave a creaky groan of indignation as a pair of green silk boxer
shorts landed on its head.
"Oohh, please don't stop... never stop..." the girl gave a breathy moan as the boy buried his face in the crook of her neck, his hands roaming down her almost-bare torso skillfully, his dark hair tickling her chin as his lips trailed down a path to her breasts.
It was about two hours later that two sated individuals, the girl giggling a bit as she rubbed her neck where she'd leaned against the doorframe, left the premises, adjusting their robes and re-knotting their ties (one green and silver, one red and gold) as they went.
If the two had lingered but for another fifteen minutes in the vicinity, they might have noticed a round of malevolently gleeful laughter that would have rivaled Peeves on April Fool's Day coming from behind the closed door with the sign "Office: Professor A. Sinistra". But perhaps the lustful duo was somewhat infatuated with each other after all, or too worn out after their enthusiastic activity. They left rather quickly.
The next morning, a ruckus of a very unusual sort broke out in the Slytherin dorms. "Oi, Higgs, your hair is pink!" Adrian Pucey, 7th year Chaser and Stater of the Obvious, stared at his roommate in unabashed bewilderment.
Terence Higgs blearily rubbed his eyes. "Don't you think you're taking your obsession with girly colours too far, Pucey?" he yawned. "As if that umbrella-embellished pink swill you drink isn't bad enough? I'll have to start calling you 'Lockhart', you pouf."
"They're called strawberry margaritas and they're good," Pucey scowled, "but your hair!"
"Is black," Terence snarled, stumbling towards the direction of the loo. "Like my father's and my mother's." The door slammed shut behind him and there was a moment of tense, pregnant silence.
Adrian Pucey counted to five before there came the sound of an outraged screech at a pitch that Higgs shouldn't have been able to reach since the advent of puberty. An instant later, the sound abruptly ceased, as if muffled by a Silencing Charm. A stony-faced Cassius Warrington, Head Boy badge pinned upon his immaculate robes, walked out of the loo shaking his head.
"Well then," he shut the door behind his back and shot a malignant glare at his roommates, "I'd appreciate any information you sods might have on what the hell happened to Higgs to give him the ability to simultaneously blind and deafen me."
None of his roommates could give him an answer, but had Cassius been out in the hallway rather than in the Slytherin dorms, he might have noticed the unusual sight of the usually reticent Astronomy Professor pausing at the entrance of the dungeons at the sound of Terence's scream. She then proceeded to grab the nearby Professor Snape around the waist and lead him in an aggressive, exuberant dance down about five more feet of hallway before the Potions Master had decided that Aria Sinistra had finally lost her Gobstones and carried her giddy form into the Great Hall like a sack of potatoes. A few Gryffindors stopped to stare.
This spectacle became the topic of conversation and speculation for all of about fifteen minutes before a strange procession of Slytherin boys entered the Great Hall. Cassius Warrington waved at all assembled with one hand even as the other was latched inexorably on one side of a struggling student. Warrington and Montague frog-marched an outraged, pink-haired Higgs to the Slytherin table, forced him down into a seat, and even as Miles Bletchley helpfully cast a sticking charm preventing Higgs' escape, the Slytherins took but one moment to stare before turning to their breakfasts as though nothing was amiss.
Five minutes had barely passed before Aria Sinistra, who had been edging closer and closer to the point of convulsions at the High Table, bounced up from her seat, unable to hold in her glee any longer, and shook a triumphant finger in the direction of pink-haired Terence. "BWHAHAHAHAHA!" she cackled, earning a scandalized look from Professor McGonagall, "SEE NOW, EVERYONE! THIS IS THE FATE THAT SHALL BEFALL ANY WHO DARE PROFANE MY DOMAIN WITH THEIR LIBIDINOUS ACTIVITIES!"
The Great Hall grew silent and still, and Snape none-too-gently yanked his fellow professor back down into her seat. At the Gryffindor table, Ron Weasley turned to Hermione Granger with a bemused sort of look.
"If that's the prat's punishment for shagging in the Astronomy Tower, shouldn't the person he was shagging have pink hair too?"
The most knowledgeable witch of his year was hard-pressed to find an answer. A few seats away, Lee Jordan let out a guffaw.
"Must've been alone in the tower," the Quidditch announcer sniggered, "Who'd've thought? Tarty Terence was probably wanking."
The validity of this speculation, though, was tenuous at best. Higgs had been the proprietor of a horde of eager fangirls since his fourth year.
Even as whispers and suspicions arose amongst the students and staff, and Terence recovered enough of his dignity to start basking in the attention, fluffing his dawn-tinted hair every few minutes, Professor Snape demanded a conference with Professor Sinistra on the affliction that had befallen his student. Aria cordially agreed to a conference in his office after classes that day, provided that she was allowed to go and renew the spells in her tower room before they conversed.
No one really noticed Alicia Spinnet, sitting a little bit away from her friends, discreetly adjusting her blouse. The Gryffindor girl, thanking the heavens that she'd not actually stepped INTO the room when they'd visited last night, carefully pinched a telltale strand of coral pink hair off one strap of her bra.
They WOULD have to find a new place, though, she mused. The third floor broom closet had its potential.