Caked in mud from head to foot, Oliver trudged along the corridor on the fifth floor, leaving behind a trail of muddy footprints in his wake. He shivered as he approached the painting outside the prefects bathroom, hugging his arms around himself, his teeth chattered loudly from the shock of getting soaked through and then not being able to get warmed up.

The painting swung open automatically for him. He, of course, had access to this place last year when he was Quidditch Captain. He stepped in, to be greeted by lovely aromatic smells and a room full of steam and rainbow coloured bubbles. Dammit! Someone had beaten him to the large bath.

“Um.. Hello?” He squinted into the mist. If it was one of the girls.. Sarah or Lori or one of the other female prefects, he'd just leave them to it. He walked further into the room, the large painting swinging closed behind him.