Oleandra and the Mystery of Lesbomancy

"Well, well, well," said Daphne upon seeing Oleandra open her eyes. "If it isn't the consequences for our actions. I trust we've learned our lesson?"

"Nope, not even close," said Oleandra as she swung her feet out of her hospital bed. "What time is it?"

"Four in the afternoon," said Daphne, shaking her head. "What would Mother say?"

Oleandra groaned. Her precious weekend; almost an entire day wasted in bed. Still, losing some blood was a worthy sacrifice for the prize that awaited her. Hold on, what had Daphne just said? …Mother?

"I forgot to post my letter with everything that's been going on," Oleandra groaned, slapping her forehead.

"It's probably a good thing you forgot," said Daphne calmly. "Hermione came by this morning; I caught her giving you a sponge bath while you were sound asleep. We chatted a bit; apparently, owls are being intercepted. The Ministry's reading our mail, so if there's anything in your letter that needs to be amended…"

"That can't be legal—"

Wait, what? Oleandra froze on the spot, her brain still processing the first part of Daphne's story. Had she heard that correctly? Hermione had taken the initiative to wash her? But why!?

"A sponge bath?" Oleandra croaked. "Hermione!?"

"Yep," said Daphne nonchalantly. "When Tracey and I came over after breakfast, we found her lovingly sponging you down. After that, Tracey and Hermione fought over who'd have the honour of washing your body. Madam Pomfrey promptly kicked them out of the room a few minutes later. You're very popular among the womenfolk, aren't you?"

"I never realized Hermione and I were that close," said Oleandra weakly.

In truth, the Gryffindor Trio had actually wanted to be completely certain about Oleandra's lightning bolt scar, so Harry and Ron had sent Hermione to check first-hand, since she wasn't above committing some skullduggery in order to satisfy her curiosity. When it came to school rules, Hermione usually erred on the side of upholding them, but she had no qualms breaking them if need be! She had been the one to come up with the idea of using Polyjuice potion to spy on Malfoy in her second year at Hogwarts, after all.

Just as Oleandra was thinking about her, Tracey burst through the door.

"There you are," said Oleandra crossly. "I've got a few choice words for you—"

"There's no time!" Tracey exclaimed. "The tryouts are about to begin!"

"What's all this noise about!?" hissed Madam Pomfrey as she stalked over to them. "You again!? This girl needs her rest—"

But she was too late; Tracey had already dragged Oleandra out of bed and out of the Hospital Wing.

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Half a dozen minutes later…

"Just so you know," Oleandra pouted as she put on her Quidditch equipment, "I'm mad at you."

"I didn't see anything… important," said Tracey hastily. "After wrenching the sponge out of Hermione's hands, I only had time to wash your arms and your face by the time Madam Pomfrey kicked us out."

Oleandra raised an eyebrow. What did only had time mean, exactly?

"I would have stopped after doing your legs," said Tracey anxiously. "I promise."

Oleandra's Mystic Eyes told her that she was telling the truth, so she decided to let the matter go. The job description for being friends didn't include giving each other sponge baths, but if it was Tracey doing it, then perhaps it wasn't so bad…

"Next time I get badly injured," Oleandra said jokingly, "I give you the permission to wash me all you want."

Oleandra's cheeks turned pink. What had possessed her to say that!? That was the sort of thing lovers did! …Or was it…? Oleandra actually had no idea, having never been in a relationship before.

"Okay," said Tracey, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. "I'll hold you to that promise."

The two girls awkwardly finished putting on the rather stinky Quidditch uniform. Tracey wrinkled her nose in disgust, but she still went through with it. Oleandra took her Nimbus 2000, while Tracey grabbed a spare Nimbus 2001. With their gear ready, they walked onto the Quidditch pitch together.

The moment they appeared, the rest of the Slytherin team stared blankly at them.

"These are the Beater tryouts, you know?" said Montague, who was now a team captain after Marcus Flint had finally graduated.

"We know," said Tracey, before winking at Oleandra.

There were only a handful of other candidates for the position of Beater other than Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. The two of them had probably bullied away all of their competition, but they were visibly having second thoughts about trying the same against a girl who could single-handedly fell a Dragon.

"What are the two of you playing at?" said Draco coldly, before turning to Montague. "Graham, you can't seriously be considering them, look at their puny arms…"

"We've a right to participate in the Beater tryouts," said Oleandra nonchalantly. "Who knows? Maybe I'll find I'm secretly talented at shooting iron balls at annoying gits."

Montague looked helplessly at the two fifth years who were now fiercely glaring at each other. They used to get along perfectly well back when Marcus was captain, so why were they pulling this sort of thing under him? He couldn't afford to offend either of their families…

"The tryouts will go on as planned," he finally said. "Now, we'll do it like this: all seven of you will fly up together; I'll release the two Bludgers, and whoever's left standing in the end gets the job. Got it?"

They all nodded, and as she got on her broom, Oleandra noticed something peculiar.

"Adrian, aren't you already on the team?" Oleandra pointed out to him. "You're a Chaser; why are you participating in the Beater tryouts?"

"I think violence is more of my calling than scoring," Adrian Pucey said matter-of-factly. "It can't hurt to give it a try, can it?"

It could certainly hurt, Oleandra thought to herself.

Upon hearing Montague's whistle, the seven Beater-aspirants flew into the air, gripping their Beater's bat tightly in one hand and their broomstick's handle in the other. A few seconds later, a second whistle blast sounded and Montague released the two Bludgers. As a reminder, Bludgers are iron balls imbued with Player-Seeking and Rocket enchantments!

Almost immediately, two of the randoms got knocked out of the running: the first fell off his broom in a panic upon seeing a Bludger hurtling towards him, while the second completely missed his swing at an incoming Bludger and got cracked ribs as a result. Luckily, the other members of the team managed to slow down their falls enough so that they didn't crash to the ground and die.

Oleandra wasn't exactly confident about her chances; she was still a bit woozy, even though Madam Pomfrey had replenished all of her missing blood. Even so, her mind felt clearer than it had ever been all week. Without that permanent headache—

"Whoa!"

A Bludger had chosen her as its next target, so Oleandra executed a lazy loop-the-loop to avoid it. It would probably be best if she concentrated harder from now on, as the tryouts were only now truly beginning!