CC and I are completely blown away by the response to our first comedy! We read every review and frankly come to PK to check them out if we're in need of lifted spirits! I do wish I could figure out why it won't format the text as I need it to, but no one has seemed to get mixed up so I guess its okay.
This is the last "chapter," only the epilogue remains. It is a long chapter though and we hope that you enjoy it!!
One little note to Amy Howard…we're thinking on the same page…It would be nasty to go too long without a shower….so here you go!
Cheering Charm and Vicarious Leigh
DAY THREE-FRIDAY
I just have to do it. Forget Harry's appearance for one minute, I feel purely wretched! I haven't taken a shower since this ordeal began and there simply is no way around it.
"Harry. Harry!" Hermione startled in her four-poster and looked over to Ron. He was wrapped in a fluffy white towel and absolutely nothing else. She looked over toward him and couldn't stop her mind from wandering, the towel was parted open just the slightest bit. "Harry?" There was alarm in Ron's voice now.
Hello! You are Harry, answer the boy!
"Oh!..I mean, what?" she stammered.
Ron looked at her incredulously and stood in silence. He didn't appear either willing, or able, to speak his mind at this point. Visibly shaking the thoughts from his head, he said, "You wanted me to tell you when the shower was free."
"Oh, right. Thanks." Hermione threw her legs over the side of the bed and suddenly wondered what to do.
What do boys bring in the shower with them? I don't think Harry has any Freesia body wash and an exfoliating loofah hidden around here.
She looked up sheepishly as she realized Ron was still looking at her quizzically. She climbed out of bed, grabbed a fresh towel from the cabinet by the door and for the first time in her life, secretly begged that a House Elf had prepared exactly what she would need.
Thank God. Bar soap, washcloths, and shampoo. I can live without conditioner for a while.
She slowly placed the towel on the warming rack next to the shower and arranged the toiletries in the shower. Then she arranged them again…and again…and again.
"Ugh!" she exclaimed in frustration. She plopped down on a nearby stool and buried her head in her hands. She couldn't stop the compulsion. Anytime "her" hands touched this head, she absentmindedly ran her fingers over the lightning bolt scar she'd come to know so well.
Pull yourself together! You are fully well-aware of the male anatomy. You've been thoroughly educated in all the proper anatomical parts. You can certainly hop in the shower and wash…him…without embarrassment!
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and made her decision. She was going to do this if it killed her. Somewhere in the back of her head, she had a feeling she wasn't the only one facing such a dilemma.
**
Harry was perched at the dressing table in a silky pink dressing gown. He eyed the shower suspiciously.
How can it just sit there, acting so inviting, steam billowing from the curtain as if nothing is wrong?
He pulled on his long bushy hair nervously.
Oh, get a grip Potter! You're the Boy-Who-Lived, and the prospect of taking a shower is unnerving you! Be a man!
I am being a man! Shouldn't I be asking permission or something?
She'll be angrier if you don't take a shower and dare to show "her" unwashed self in public for the third day.
Besides, Malfoy's right.
Harry shuddered at the thought.
You know what she's doing right now. That's why Malfoy didn't hesitate.
Malfoy didn't hesitate because he's a testosterone-driven git who's only ever seen Pansy Parkinson naked.
Now he visibly shuddered at the thought. He gave the shower another seething glare, stood up, and made his decision. He was going to do this if it killed him, or more to the point, if she killed him.
**
If she closed her eyes it really wasn't all that different. Sure, the washcloth was a bit thin and the soap didn't lather quite the way her body wash did. It didn't have the familiar garden scent she enjoyed in her own shower, but there was one exceptionally obvious characteristic to the aroma…it smelled like Harry.
She had to admit it. She'd never really noticed it before. Harry was not one for musky colognes or flowery scents. In actuality, until now she wasn't sure she had ever noticed his "scent" at all. But here, in the heat of the steaming shower, it was overwhelming. It sparked some subconscious familiarity in her that comforted her completely. It also reminded her of the sickening reality that they'd yet to find a way out of …she was trapped in his body.
Well, I might as well…look…at it. I mean, textbooks are fine for studying the opposite sex; this is just a bit of…empirical research.
If it makes you feel better to think of it that way.
Thankfully, the shower was not fitted with a mirror. If she could see her face, or more to the point…his, she knew she would be blushing furiously. She slowly opened her eyes and further convinced herself this was not such a bad experience.
After all, without his glasses it's not like I can see it very well.
Far more comfortable with the excuses she'd contrived, Hermione began to wash her body more thoroughly. For a moment she almost forgot her situation; for only a moment.
Ooh! What was that?
You know what that is.
Hermione couldn't help herself any longer. The compulsion drove her and, as best she could thorough his blurry vision, she studied, as only Hermione Granger can, the last part of Harry she'd yet to become acquainted with.
**
Harry was a big boy. He could admit it. He was jealous.
The dormitories were far better appointed on this side of Gryffindor tower. The girls had matching décor and a feeling of "hominess" without being too frilly. They had individualized vases of flowers on their bedside tables and curtains on the windows. Most importantly, it didn't smell like the entire Quidditch team had just walked off the pitch. He thought back to the enchanting aroma of his first steps in the fabled land of the Gryffindor ladies. The girls' dormitories just smelled nice.
But this, this was too much.
This bath sponge-thingy was clearly unfair. It was invigorating. It was no wonder why Hermione always had a bright smile on her face. Her body wash nearly tingled his skin and the smell was intoxicatingly that of his best friend. While he tried not to muse on her aroma for long, he was sure he'd never catch a waft of her scent again without thinking of this very moment.
The sponge-thingy scrubbed more than the dirt away. Harry half-believed it was enchanted to actually scrub one's cares down the drain as well. It certainly seemed to make Harry forget the fact that he was a rather unwilling prisoner in Hermione Granger's body. At least, he thought he was unwilling. He wanted to be unwilling. But, he couldn't shake the understanding that right now, at this moment in time, being a girl was good.
He continued scrubbing his arms, stomach, legs, and face as the steaming water cascaded over him from the waterfall inspired faucet above his head. He wasn't kidding himself too much. He knew what body parts he was avoiding. He just wasn't sure he wanted to avoid them.
You are a flesh and blood man after all; give them a good look Potter…go on! It's not like you've been this close to a naked girl before!
This naked girl happens to be my best friend! It's just not right!
Oh! Come on, Harry! What are best friends for? And besides that, how will she ever know?
Harry hated arguing with himself, especially when he was right. This was the one time the little devil sitting on his left shoulder clearly sucker punched the angel on his right. How many 17-year-old guys ever had an opportunity like this?
**
Hermione was not at all surprised to see that Ron had moved onto the Great Hall without her. It wasn't until after she had returned to their room, to realize it was conspicuously empty, that she determined her shower likely took far longer than normal for Harry Potter. After all, he was a guy. They all seemed to be trained to get into and out of a shower in less than five minutes flat.
Well, I may be stuck in a boy's body, but I'm still a girl!
She settled onto the bench across from Ron. He was hunched over her Daily Prophet and seemed to be determinedly avoiding conversation.
"Good morning, Ron."
"Morning, Harry." He didn't look up from the paper.
Neither Harry nor Malfoy had arrived yet. Needless to say that was an oddity. The boys nearly always arrived for breakfast before she did. Suddenly, something slipped into gear in her head and she remembered what Harry and Malfoy had been privy to the night before. Hermione scanned the Hall for Ginny.
To the casual observer, nothing seemed to be different. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were glaring at each other across the room. Ginny and Hermione may have been seated at different tables in the Great Hall but it was obvious they were sharing the same thought.
Where in the name of Merlin are they?
Hermione had barely been able to sleep last night, dreading the conversations that were likely to take place at the slumber party. With any luck, the repartee had been subdued, given the fact they shouldn't have had any illegal spirits to loosen the ladies' tongues. It was for that reason alone that Ginny and Hermione had intentionally ensured the boys didn't know about the butterbeer.
Ron suddenly cleared his throat and mustered the courage to speak, drawing Hermione from her thoughts.
"Harry," Ron asked, looking up from a shovelful of eggs. "Is everything okay? You've been acting…well, a bit…dodgy lately."
"What do you mean?" Hermione replied.
"Well, I can only say this because we've been best friends for seven years, but I've been noticing a few things about you over the last few days."
Hermione looked around for anything other than Ron to focus her attention on. She haphazardly grabbed a muffin and began buttering it. Ron merely looked at her confounded.
"What?"
"Well, I know we spend a bit of time together, but you seem to have taken on some of Hermione's more endearing habits."
"Like what?" Ron raised an eyebrow and looked where she was seated. Hermione suddenly became rather aware of her mannerisms. She had her legs crossed, had been running her right hand through her hair, and was holding the muffin with a rather loose wrist. She quickly uncrossed her legs and slid into a more masculine position.
She looked back at Ron, who seemed wholly terrified of something. "What?" she asked.
"Well, it's just…You've been acting rather strange in the dormitory. I could've sworn you were…I don't know…checking me out…and I just want to ask if there's anything you'd like to tell me." Hermione was speechless. Misreading her silence, Ron continued. "I mean…I don't mean anything bad by it, you've never really seemed to talk about girls too much…and I…"
Oh, my God. I've made Harry gay!
"Ron. It's not what you think. I promise. I'll explain everything….later." Hermione's attention was quickly drawn to a refreshed looking version of herself entering the Great Hall. She couldn't place it, but something about him, or more to the point "her," was different. He took the open space next to Ron and sat down rather gingerly.
"Good morning," he said flatly.
"Good morning, Hermione," Ron said, still focused on Harry.
"Morning," Harry replied quietly shifting in his seat.
"Well, you look like you had an interesting evening, Hermione. Care to share?" Hermione asked.
"No." He squirmed again.
"I heard the ladies had another slumber party last night," Ron said suggestively. "What's the matter Hermione, too much lounging around, scantily clad, drinking excessive amounts of butterbeer and fantasizing about the studly Gryffindor men?" He winked at Harry.
"You have no idea."
Hermione's stomach lurched into her throat. She was generally weary of their slumber parties if only for the excessive references Lavender and Pavarti made about she and Harry. She could only hope something of that nature did not happen last night.
His response did not inspire confidence.
"What do you mean, 'we have no idea.' Surely you can give us just a little information." Hermione said, trying to keep the desperation from her voice.
He leveled his eyes at hers and remained silent.
Heavens, I am not attractive when I'm angry.
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Harry spoke. "I'll give you an equal amount of information that some 'boys' would give us 'girls'."
It wasn't hard to read between those lines. They were about six feet apart. Harry wasn't going to tell her a thing. He was going to sit there, smug, and keep the entire sordid evening to himself.
Something terribly compromising must've happened.
She suddenly remembered why she and Ginny subjected them to the slumber party to begin with.
"Well, some 'girls' should be a bit more respectful of the 'boys' they share company with."
"And some 'boys' should give some of us 'girls' the benefit of the doubt!"
Ron looked as though he were courtside at Wimbledon.
"Ha! I'm surprised some 'girls' have managed to tear themselves from the mirror long enough to eat with us 'boys'."
Harry scoffed, "Well, some 'boys' shouldn't be so impressed with themselves!"
"What in the bloody blazes are you two on about?" Ron interrupted as Hermione gaped at Harry's last comment.
"Nothing," Harry said dejectedly and squirmed in his seat again. Harry looked up to see Hermione staring at him with wide eyes. He looked away and spooned some eggs onto his plate…and sausage, and porridge, and toast…
"Ahem," Hermione cleared her throat to gain his attention, her eyes growing wider at the breakfast he seemed ready to indulge in. Harry stopped the spoon in midair, looked at his plate, and then to Hermione's. She had taken two sausage links, a spoonful of eggs, and a piece of toast. Harry furrowed his brow and looked at her incredulously. The look etched on her face was clearly shouting the same thing.
You can't be serious!
They miserably complied with each other's silent request. Although somewhere in the back of Hermione's mind she realized what luck she'd fallen into. This was every girl's unspoken wish…to eat as much of anything she liked…and never gain an ounce! She happily spooned another helping of eggs onto her plate and looked back across the table to Ron.
Who would've thought? One day I'm plain old Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry and Ron, and not more than a week later, I've seen them both naked! And the best part is neither of them are any the wiser.
She suddenly felt like she was keeping a dirty secret. A secret like one of those personal fantasies she'd written about so vividly in her journal. She mused over a few of her more "interesting" entries, not realizing her gaze had yet to leave Ron's body. It was another voice that roused her from her thoughts.
"Ahem," Harry cleared his throat a bit louder than Hermione had done only moments before. He looked between her and Ron and back again. His smile had faded completely and Hermione realized she must've been looking at Ron while musing over her journal.
You mean the journal that is rather conveniently placed under your pillow!
Hermione's eyes widened in shock. She looked across the table for some unlikely indication that Harry had not happened upon it…or worse...Malfoy! Not two seconds after having the thought, she saw the gloriously accessorized "Ginny Weasley" stride in to the Great Hall. Malfoy took a seat next to Hermione and lazily offered a morning greeting.
"Good morning, Ginny," Ron said, his voice growing agitated.
"What's the matter with you?" Malfoy replied.
"Nothing. It's just…just…Hermione will you stop it!" Ron huffed in exasperation.
"What?" Hermione said, without thinking. Ron apparently didn't notice.
"Look at her! She's squirming all over the bench! What is the matter with you?" Ron said, clearly annoyed.
"Nothing," Harry replied, obviously attempting to still his movement.
Ron apparently had enough. He pushed the paper to Harry and got up from the table. He bade everyone a quick goodbye and left the Great Hall.
"Do you think we should tell him," Harry said as he gave the paper to Hermione and absentmindedly returned to the squirming that had driven Ron from the table.
"Are you mad?" Hermione hissed. "First, he'd never believe us, and second, It would be too weird if he knew…knew…that I was you!"
Harry stopped moving entirely and looked at Hermione. "Why should it matter if he knows you're…you."
"Then she couldn't gawk at his bum," Malfoy said cheekily. Before Hermione could retort, he added, "not that anyone would want to."
Hermione was furious. She wasn't sure why, other than feeling like one of her secrets had been released via a howler. She had been moderately interested in Ron's physique, but would never have referred to her activity as "gawking." The look on Harry's face was unreadable, but one thing was clear. Hermione wanted someone to yell at, and he provided the perfect target.
"Ron's right. What is the matter with you?" she hissed.
Harry looked equally frustrated. "How do you…you know, wear these things, Hermione?"
"Wear what things?" she said exasperatedly.
"These…" he let out a sigh of pure frustration, clearly embarrassed about something. Depending on how you look at it, Malfoy either increased, or decreased that embarrassment with his next statement.
"I do believe he's referring to the thong."
Hermione's eyes flew to Malfoy while Harry buried his head in his hand. He answered her question before she could ask it.
"Calm down, Granger. Weasley wears them too."
"I know that Malfoy, but how do you know I do!" He merely smirked in her direction and buttered his toast. Before she could engage in a proper screaming altercation, Harry interjected.
"If Ginny wears them, why aren't you uncomfortable? This thing is riding into my throat!" he whispered quietly.
"Please, Potter. They're not so bad once you get used to them."
"Used to them? You've been stuck like this for all of one and a half days, Malfoy! How is that enough time to be used to anything?" Harry continued, leaning over the table. For once, Malfoy seemed to understand that his mouth might have betrayed more of his personal confidence than he intended. He quickly gathered the book he'd placed next to him and started to stand up.
"No way!" Hermione looked him from head to toe as the searing image of Malfoy dressed as an American Chippendale dancer burned forever into the pages of her memory.
They watched Malfoy leave the Great Hall. Ginny rose from the Slytherin House table, glaring at Crabbe, and followed him shortly thereafter.
"So," Harry said.
"So," replied Hermione. It was obvious what they wanted to talk about, now that they found themselves alone. "I don't suppose you'll spill it about the slumber party last night?"
"Not until you 'spill' what you and Ginny are hiding."
"I pretty much gathered that from our encoded conversation earlier." Hermione slumped her shoulders. For as much as she wanted to know what had happened last night, she was not going to give up any information without consulting Ginny first. Even if she was in Harry's body, she certainly had no desire to walk around all day with tentacles sprouting from her ears. "So, what took you so long this morning?" she asked flippantly.
"Why were you 'gawking' at Ron?" he replied flatly.
"Wh..what?" she stammered. "I was not gawking at Ron! I was just…just…" she failed to find an adequate excuse without betraying what she had been thinking about.
"You know, guys don't look at other guys like that, Hermione. You keep up like that and Justin Finch-Fletchley will be hitting on me by supper," he finished dryly. "You know, I was a respectable friend, I didn't take the opportunity to look at Ginny naked." He was staring at her now; a question clearly screaming on his face.
Hermione flushed and she suddenly took great interest in finding the marmalade. Even though she wasn't looking at him, she certainly heard his reaction.
"Hermione," he hissed. "You have looked at Ron naked! Haven't you?"
"No!" she exclaimed. "Of course not!" Harry might have bought her answer if Hermione hadn't continued to talk. "I mean, besides…" she bumbled on. "Your vision is really very poor without your glasses. It's not like I could see anything anyway!" Harry's jaw audibly hit the table. Forgetting, or intentionally rebuking their deal, he stabbed another sausage and shoved it in his mouth.
"Well, you certainly sound… impressed," Harry said coolly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione said quietly. She was secretly hoping that he was still referring to Ron and hadn't cottoned on to the fact she was fully showered.
I was impressed.
"Well, you know. If you've got such a thing for Ron…why not just tell him?" Harry said, his eyes narrowing.
"Don't be silly, Harry. Even if I did have a thing for Ron, which I don't, you're in my body and…" she raised her eyes to his. He was smirking scandalously and tapping his fingers over his crossed arms.
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Tell me what you're planning."
"Harry James Potter, that is blackmail!" she hissed quietly as she looked around to see no one was listening to their conversation.
"Is that what it is?" He rose from the bench and slid his books against his chest in one smooth motion. He then turned on his heel, quite literally, to make a grand exit.
Hermione was seething; for about 3.2 seconds.
That was as far as Harry got in Hermione's heeled shoe before he squirmed just the wrong way and lost his balance entirely. Hermione would have found the entire scene exquisitely more entertaining if the entire Great Hall didn't think she had just tripped and flung her books everywhere.
***
Draco Malfoy couldn't get out of the Great Hall fast enough. Silently cursing himself for letting one of his trusted secrets "slip," he traipsed down the corridor toward his first class of the day.
"Weasel Queen!" Ginny called to him while dashing up the hallway. Malfoy stopped, smiling inwardly, and turned to greet his partner in this unbelievable charade.
"You know Weasley, I meant to congratulate you for finally coming to terms with your true personality."
"Shut it, Malfoy," Ginny sneered while stuffing a piece of parchment in to his hand. "I forgot to give you my schedule for today's classes. As you are a year ahead of me and have had my classes already, I trust my marks will not fare any worse than I have."
Drawing himself up to his full height and glancing spryly at Ginny's trousers, Malfoy said, "I don't imagine you've fared too poorly at all." He wiggled his eyebrows seductively.
Ginny smirked mischievously. "Well, Draco, if you'd like to know how impressive you really are..." she waltzed up to him, drawing a single finger along the seam of his robes, brushing upwards along his chest until finally reaching his chin. She stepped mere centimeters from his face, tipped her head to the side and lowered her eyes to his. "Ask Crabbe."
She swept down the corridor leaving Malfoy in stunned silence. As she rounded the corner and trailed out of sight she burst into laughter and felt inordinately better about whatever conversations had transpired during the slumber party.
***
Malfoy's day was going from bad to worse. He didn't know Ginny Weasley well enough to ascertain whether she was bluffing about Crabbe or not. He also didn't know her well enough to decide if she would've actually followed through on her threat. He weighed each of these questions equally, while traversing the corridor to "Ginny's" next class.
Thank the gods…Potions!
It was no secret or surprise to anyone that Potions was his favorite class. It's hard not to enjoy a class when you're the obvious teacher's pet; especially, when your favoritism is so clearly flaunted before your enemies. That's how Draco Malfoy had spent the last six years in Potions. If he would miss anything about Hogwarts, it would be the way Severus Snape smirked every time he vanished Harry Potter's latest attempt.
Malfoy smiled brightly as images of disappearing potions and incensed, but completely powerless, "heroes" floated through his mind.
I love Severus Snape.
Draco dropped his books to the table, put his bag next to his chair, and settled down in his favorite chair at the front of the classroom. He scanned the board quickly and his smile broadened. For once he'd get to feel as smart as Hermione Granger. The sixth year students were brewing the Negrulean Draught. Although challenging to brew correctly, it was generally used in Mediwizardry and Auror field operations for healing severe bruising. Malfoy smiled warmly, remembering his near perfect reproduction of the potion last year. He pulled out the necessary materials and waited for class to begin.
Profesor Snape glided into the room, looking over a dusty book as he walked. His shoe connected with the bag Malfoy had dropped on the floor and he shot Draco the signature look of disgust generally reserved for Gryffindors. The smile slid from Malfoy's face immediately upon remembering his predicament.
"Ms. Weasley, even though you can not remember the correct textbook, in the future, please attempt to remember the ten points you lost for Gryffindor for being slovenly." He glided away quietly, leaving Malfoy's mouth gaping in his wake. He looked down to the books on his desk and realized, in his haste to leave the Great Hall, he must've taken Hermione's books instead of his own.
Well, at least the points are coming from Gryffindor.
After a brief introduction, the students set about brewing their potions. Malfoy sliced the shrivelfig while casting a curious glance toward Professor Snape. He was stalking through the room, grumbling at some potions, sneering at others, and praising a select few. Malfoy straightened up as he approached. He gave a cursory glance toward the potion bubbling in his cauldron and folded his hands over each other as Snape approached the desk. It was perfect! It was exactly the right color and consistency. It had come to a rolling boil just in time for Professor Snape to arrive at the desk….and vanish the entire contents of his cauldron.
"Wha…?"
"How unfortunate, Ms. Weasley. It looks like you may've even gotten that one right. I suppose I should be more careful. Perhaps you can brew another batch by the end of the…" The bell rang. "Or not." Malfoy felt the heat rise in his face. "Well, another ten points from Gryffindor for not completing the assignment in the given time."
Ugh! That was completely unfair!
Malfoy stormed out of the classroom utterly incensed. Gryffindor points or not, there was no cause to make a public spectacle of him before the whole class. Even if he was Ginny Weasley, Snape didn't pay one bit of attention to what he did, only who he was. His agitation was only assuaged by the fact Quidditch practice was rapidly approaching. At least he could clear his head on his Nimbus.
***
Malfoy's luck did not improve as he stormed into the changing room for Quidditch practice.
"What's the matter Weasel Queen? You forget what team you play for?" Crabbe sneered at Malfoy as he threw open the door. Behind him, he could see Goyle happily punching Ginny in the arm and laughing. If not for the seething stare coming from his own eyes across the room, he likely would've remained rooted to the spot, mouth gaping open, searching for an answer. However, Ginny quickly snapped him back to the twisted reality he was living.
"Yeah, Weasel! Gryffindor doesn't have the pitch for another hour," she replied, clearly trying to remind him that he'd be dressing in scarlet and gold this afternoon. He had to think, and think fast. Luckily for him, Ginny was as equally prone to sarcasm as he was, so the reply came quickly.
"Well, I figured if you were as bad at everything else as you are at flying, you'd likely need help just changing into your robes. But, as I can see you've got your nursemaids handy, I'll just leave you three in peace." Malfoy made for the door rather quickly, his mood sinking even lower. If he didn't know better he'd think he was about to burst into a fit of tears. He wasn't sure if it upset him more that he could so vividly recall such insults being leveled at him, or that he was really beginning to believe what students said about buying his way onto the Slytherin team. Either way, he was stuck for at least the next hour. There wasn't enough time to return to the castle and get anything accomplished, so he opted to watch the Slytherin practice from the grandstand.
Great gods! Will I get any peace today?
Malfoy had been looking forward to a little time alone. However, as he walked into the spectators' box he was greeted with a sight that ensured his mood would not be improving any time soon. He turned to make a quick exit from the stands, but a voice beckoned him back.
"Oye! Ginny!" Malfoy stood literally no chance of determining whether Fred or George Weasley had called him back to the stands. He sighed deeply and turned to join the last group of people he'd ever think to share social time with.
He took a seat next to one of the twin Weasleys; he was at loss as to which one it was. Ron Weasley had given him a smile and returned to the conversation he thought he was having with Hermione Granger. Malfoy caught a glimpse of "Hermione's" eye but was quickly drawn into a conversation with Fred and George.
"So, Ginny. Fred and I were just talking about Christmas. I know it's early, but we'd like to do something for mum and dad this year. The shop is doing rather well so don't worry about the money. We just need your help to figure out an appropriate gift," George said.
"Yes, George doesn't seem to think a collection of our dearest cooking spices would sit well with mum," Fred said indignantly.
"She's only just forgiven us for that blasted 'shocking soda pop' fiasco you treated us to several weeks ago," George replied over Fred's quiet chuckling.
"I promise I didn't know it would have that effect!" Fred replied, trying harder to contain his laughter. It didn't work. He dissolved into laughter and continued through gasping breaths. "She…couldn't touch…anything…for three solid…hours!" Ron, turned around to glare at the twins.
"Go ahead and laugh about it Fred. You got to leave! I had to spend the rest of that evening listening to her rant about you both in between alternating popping and screaming sounds!" Ron turned back around and continued his conversation with Hermione.
"All right," Fred said, wiping a tear from his eye. "We'll talk about Christmas in a minute. What else is on the agenda for this week?" He looked thoughtfully for a moment. "Oh! Ginny, I spoke to Bill about your little problem you confided in us last week. He said he would send you an owl sometime this week with his thoughts. Also, Charlie wanted you to know that he is sending you a little gift." He stopped. Fred and George exchanged a confused glance and both leveled their eyes at Malfoy.
"Ginny?" George asked.
"What?" Malfoy replied, blankly watching the Slytherin team warm up.
"This is where you get all giddy and beg us to tell you what Charlie bought for you." Fred said flatly.
"Oh. You know what it is?" Malfoy asked, attempting to sound interested.
Fred and George looked purely shocked. They both leaned in toward Malfoy and exchanged a curious glance. "Of course we know what it is Ginny. We've been gathering 'gift intelligence' for you since you were five years old!" From the looks on their faces, Malfoy realized he must not be reacting as Ginny would and turned it up a notch.
"Well! What is it?" he asked in the most excited voice he could muster.
Fred, or George, whichever, seemed bursting at the seams to spill the information. "He had a dragon skin jacket made especially for you. He knew you always wanted one."
"But they're so expensive…" Malfoy thought out-loud. Before he could progress any further into his musings over the lack of any significant Weasley fortune George interrupted.
"Ginny, how many sisters do you think we have? You know Charlie would do anything for you."
"Speaking of siblings," Fred chimed in whispering quietly. 'You know this is Ron's last year. I think mum is trying to teach us a lesson for skipping out a bit…early…she is planning a huge family gathering to honor Ron at the end of the year." He inclined his head toward his brother seated just below. "The family is coming from all over." He then glanced at Hermione. "She wants Harry and Hermione to be part of the celebration too, since they're like family anyway."
As if Malfoy's mood wasn't bad enough.
He started thinking about the conversation he'd been having since his arrival in the spectators' box. He'd spent a great deal of time over the years wondering what it would be like to be a part of a large family. Specifically, he wondered what it would be like to have brothers or sisters. As it was, he didn't have much of a family to speak of. He had parents, that much was true. But he didn't have anyone else to complain about them to, or join in a united front against when he was told to clean his room or go to bed early. In truth, his family life was rather dull. Granted, he got all the attention, and all the spoiling that come with being an only child. But he didn't get any brothers or sisters. For as much as he liked to loathe the Weasley family, he couldn't help but wonder what their life was like together. Inwardly, he always wished he would've had a little sister to protect or look after in the face of…
"Blimey! George! Look at that!" Fred said, eyes blazing.
"I see it too," Ron chimed in. Again, Malfoy was unaware he'd been paying any attention to anyone else but "Hermione Granger."
"What?" Malfoy responded, seeing the looks on the several Weasley faces.
"Bloody Malfoy is what!" George responded. "Look at how he's flying! It doesn't look familiar to you Ginny?"
"No," Malfoy said flatly.
"He's been scouting you! Look at how he's holding the broom with his left hand and curling his right foot under. That's a signature Ginny Weasley grip right there!" Malfoy couldn't believe his ears. They actually knew how their sister held a broom? Did they not have anything better to do? Come to think of it, they had treated this entire conversation as if it were a regular occurrence. He suddenly wondered how many practices had doubled as Weasley family meetings in the grandstand. He started to think back to the people he'd seen in the stands before, but was quickly jerked from his thoughts.
"If that miserable git so much as looks at you one time Ginny, you tell us straightaway! George and I will kick his ass."
It seems that my dislike for the Weasley's is reciprocated.
He didn't stop to think why he cared what the Weasley's thought about him before he said,
"Malfoy isn't that bad," in an attempt to defend himself.
Ron turned and gave Ginny an incredulous look. "Isn't that bad? ISN'T THAT BAD?! We are talking Malfoy here, Ginny. He is a pure-blood snob whose primary reason for not liking our family is because we are poor. He never misses an opportunity to insult us or hex us behind the teacher's back. He has turned us in on countless occasions for 'breaking rules' and to top it off, his parents are Death Eaters! How can you say he isn't that bad?"
Malfoy sat there, stunned. When put like that, he did sound like a git. He looked at Harry for help, who just shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "You are a git. Deal with it."
"Forget I said anything," he said sulkily. "Come on, Ron. Time for practice."
***
Do I have to explain everything to her? This is just one more thing to get me back for that stupid slumber party!
Harry sat in the stands fuming over the conversation he has just shared with Ron waiting for Gryffindor Quidditch Practice to start. The more he thought back on the conversation, the more incensed he became.
"Hermione, can I talk to you for a minute?" Ron had asked quietly.
"Sure, Ron. What's on your mind?" Harry responded.
"Well, have you noticed anything…strange…about the way Harry's been acting lately?'
"No," he said, quickly trying to cover up for anything Hermione may've done outside his presence. However, the compulsion to know specifics drove him to ask, "Why?"
"It's nothing."
When he didn't seem inclined to finish the conversation, Harry pushed on.
"It can't be nothing Ron, or you wouldn't have asked the question." That was apparently all the encouragement Ron needed. He turned toward her slightly and dropped his voice so his brothers sitting behind them wouldn't be able to hear the conversation.
"Well, Harry doesn't really talk about girls too much. Other than a few references to you, Cho, and the Patil twins, he doesn't mention girls at all."
"So?" Harry was getting a bit defensive at where this conversation was going.
"I could've sworn I saw him checking me out the other day."
Ha! So she has been 'gawking' at Ron!
"And then today…"
Harry's heart dropped. "What?"
"He broke the code."
NO!
Before Harry could answer, Ron, for the benefit of Hermione, went into a brief description. "See, guys have a bit of a code. I know you'll think it's silly, or stupid, but it's just what guys do. It's a simple code really…when you're using the loo, you look straight ahead! No wandering eyes, no 'apples to apples' comparisons, no visual distraction at all. The ceramic tile in front of your face becomes your best friend, end of story." Ron probably thought Hermione's head was buried in her hand purely for her embarrassment. Although Harry truly didn't want to know the rest of the story, he had to know what Ron had seen.
"So what happened?"
"I walked in to use the loo on the third floor and I saw the most unbelievable thing I've ever seen in my life."
"What?"
"Harry was not only breaking the code, he was smashing it into a thousand little bits right there at the urinal. He was not only looking at the guy next to him…they were…comparing…the goods!" Harry's jaw hit the floor. "I know!" Ron responded at the look on his face. "But that's not the worst part! It was Draco Malfoy he was comparing himself with!"
Harry felt sick. Not only was Hermione checking out Ron, her best friend, but she and Ginny were checking him out! And, comparing him to Malfoy!
I wonder who won?
Harry shook his head. That isn't important, he chastised himself. Focus! Ron thinks you are gay. It is time for damage control.
"Ron, Harry isn't gay."
"I didn't say that!" Ron said defensively.
"No, but you implied it."
"Well, you have to admit he's been acting weird lately."
"It isn't because he is coming out of the closet." Harry took a deep breath. "It is because he is trying to find a way to tell you that we have been, well, seeing each other."
From the look on Ron's face, Harry had the impression that he would rather believe that he was gay. "What?" he whispered in disbelief.
"We haven't been seeing each other for long. Well, you can't really even say we are seeing each other, because we 'see' each other all the time, don't we?" Harry realized that he was rambling and took a deep breath. "We just realized we had feelings for each other a few days ago. We decided that he should be the one to tell you." He watched Ron for signs of anger, hurt, anything, but instead saw shocked disbelief.
"Are you mad?" he asked tentatively.
Ron turned to look at who he thought was Hermione. "No, I'm not mad. I don't know what I am, to be honest."
Harry looked back at the Slytherins practicing to avoid seeing Ron's face. He wished now that he hadn't said anything at all. What did it really matter if Ron thought he was gay? They would be changed back soon, everything would go back to normal and Ron would forget all about it. But, now it was too late. He had said the first thing that had come to his mind, something he had been thinking about more and more since this fiasco had started; his changing feelings for Hermione.
Harry had assumed that Ron didn't fancy Hermione anymore since he had started dating Luna late last year. He and Hermione had only ever really flirted, if you call bickering and fighting flirting, which Harry guessed, some people did. Maybe he was wrong.
He opened his mouth to ask Ron, and closed it again quickly. He couldn't ask him if he liked Hermione because, well, he was Hermione. Obviously, Hermione wouldn't ask that directly or the two of them might have become a couple years earlier. He was stuck.
Then, Ron came to the rescue.
"I don't know if you knew this or not, but I liked you there for a bit, fourth and fifth years," Ron said, his ears turning red.
"I thought you might." Harry decided that, since Ron would never tell him, he might as well get as much information as possible. "So why didn't you say anything to me about it?"
Ron shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I never thought you would like me in that way."
Come to think of it I don't know if Hermione has ever thought of Ron that way, or if she thinks of him that way now. Merlin, how did I get into this mess? Me being gay is sounding very good right about now.
"You are happy with Luna, aren't you?"
"Oh, yeah. Very!"
"Well, then, it all worked out for the best, I guess."
Ron gave Harry a smile. "I guess so."
Ron looked at Harry quizzically and said. "You know, you two liking each other still doesn't explain why Harry and Malfoy were checking each other out."
"Oh, I'm sure it was some competition thing," Harry said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm positive Harry won."
Thankfully that was the moment Malfoy had decided to try to defend himself to the Weasley's and that had been the end of their 'heart-to-heart.' Now, half an hour later, Harry was sitting in the same spot, fuming, wishing he were on his broomstick instead of stuck in these uncomfortable stands.
What in the world does she think she's doing? Comparing the Potter family jewels with Malfoy's? Isn't it obvious you just don't DO that kind of thing in the loo? Sure she's the smartest witch at Hogwarts but she can't figure out that guys don't ogle over their respective sizes when they are answering nature's call!
You're just worried about what kind of comparison she made.
I am not!
Right you aren't. If she'd been comparing you to Colin Creevey you'd be positively beaming right now.
Well, I'm NOT beaming. I'm mad. No, I'm furious. I don't even know why. What's more, I really don't know why my back is aching this much! Surely those grandstand seats aren't this uncomfortable for everyone!
Harry was so irate and lost in his own murderous thoughts that it took Ron flying up to his level in the stands, and yelling "HERMIONE!" at the top of his lungs to get his attention.
"Sorry, Ron. What's wrong?"
"It's Harry. He's sick, throwing up in the locker room. I thought you might want to walk him up to the hospital wing."
Throwing up? "Sure, of course," Harry said, quickly rising to walk down to the Gryffindor locker room.
The sight that greeted him when he arrived was not pretty. There his body sat on a bench, his head between his knees, a trash can within easy reach. Harry looked around to make sure they were alone before saying, "Hermione? Are you okay?"
She looked up at him and he took a step back from shock. He looked horrible. His face was pasty white and his eyes were bleary and bloodshot. If he didn't know better he would think he had a hangover.
"Bloody hell, Hermione! Lets get you to Madam Pomfrey." He walked over and took her arm to help her up.
"No," she said weakly, pulling her arm out of Harry's grasp.
"What do you mean, 'No?'"
"I don't need to go to Madam Pomfrey. I'll be fine. Just give me a minute."
Harry sat down next to her. "What's wrong, then? Why are you puking in the trash can if you are 'fine.'"
Hermione looked at Harry and looked quickly down again. "I'm scared," she whispered.
"Scared? Of what?" he asked, completely nonplussed.
"That." Harry followed her outstretched arm and pointed finger to his Firebolt sitting in his locker.
Harry struggled not to laugh out loud. He had known that Hermione didn't like to fly, but he didn't know that the thought of it made her actually ill. And, apparently her fear was real, otherwise she wouldn't be physically sick.
"I had no idea you were that afraid of flying," he said gently.
She nodded her head vigorously. "Just watching you zoom around during practice and games almost makes me ill. I have to force myself to be calm. My hands get sweaty and my stomach is in knots every time I watch you up there." She waved her hand vaguely in the air. She paused and looked at him. "And, it doesn't help that I'm afraid of heights."
"Really?"
"Petrified."
You think you know a person…
"Well, not to worry. I don't believe they expect you back at practice anyway. Let's go back to the castle."
**
Harry's concern for Hermione drove his anger with her from his mind temporarily. After stopping off at Gryffindor tower so Hermione could brush her teeth, they decided to return, yet again, to the Library to search for a counter charm. It was there, while absently staring at a dusty book and thinking about Quidditch, that Harry remembered his conversation with Ron.
"I had an interesting little chat with Ron today," Harry stated, not looking up from his book.
He felt, rather than saw, Hermione's hesitation. "Really?" she said in a forcefully unconcerned voice. "What about?"
"Oh, you know, the usual. School, Christmas holidays, the weather, how he thinks I'M GAY!"
Hermione's eyes widened and she looked like a child that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"So it is true! Not only have you been checking out Ron, but you and Ginny were comparing mine and Draco's…business. Unbelievable!" Dust wafted up into Harry's nose from the book he slammed shut, causing him to cough uncontrollably.
"Are you okay?" Hermione asked concerned.
Harry put his hand up, keeping her concern at bay and continued to cough until his throat was clear. He cleared his throat before saying, "I expected more of you, Hermione! Checking out Draco Malfoy like that. You're a girl! Girls don't do stuff like that!"
"Oh, come off it Harry!" she whispered in an attempt to distract attention from them. "It's not like I have guys lining up to take me out! At the rate I'm going, there is a good chance that the only penis I ever see is in Gray's Anatomy. So, yeah, I had the chance to check out a guy's penis and I did. So, what?" She opened the book in front of her and appeared to start reading again before she closed it again. "And, besides, it is only Malfoy. It is just one more thing I can tease him about, is all."
"Yeah, but you let Ginny see my goods!"
"No, I didn't. She didn't want to anyway."
Hmm, I wonder why not?
Get a grip, Harry.
"You have already seen mine! What did you need to see Malfoy's for?" Harry said accusingly.
"How do you know I've seen yours?"
"I'm not daft, Hermione. You took a shower this morning, I could tell. And, you were in the bathroom. It would be a neat trick to hit the urinal without opening your eyes."
Hermione looked down at her book, at a complete loss for a retort.
"Besides, apparently you have been obvious enough when you are checking out Ron that even he noticed."
"I told you earlier that I didn't see anything! Why don't you believe me?"
"Maybe it is because you seem to have more than a passing interest in the male anatomy lately!"
"Well, good God, Harry! Look at me!" She spread her arms wide dramatically. "What do you expect? And, anyway, how is me checking out Draco's package any worse that the two of you manipulating Ginny and I so you could see the entire count of Gryffindor girls naked?"
Harry had to admit that they were on par when it came to that. He opened his book and they sat there in silence for a while, each pretending to read.
After a few moments, Hermione broke the silence. "Harry," she started uncertainly. "I'm sorry about Ron thinking you're gay. Apparently my mannerisms are more difficult to disguise and I'm making you seem a bit effeminate."
Not looking up from his book he replied, "That's okay. He doesn't think I'm gay anymore."
Hermione looked at him quizzically. "Really? What did you say?"
"I told him that you and I were seeing each other and that the reason 'I' seemed to be checking him out was because 'I' was trying to figure out a way to tell him that our feelings about each other had changed," Harry said matter-of-factly as he sat up straighter to read a promising passage.
A few moments later, he realized that Hermione hadn't said anything or even moved since his last comment. He looked up to find her staring at him with her mouth open. "What?"
"Why did you tell Ron that?" she whispered.
"It was the first thing I thought of." As Hermione continued to stare at him unblinkingly, Harry had the horrible thought that maybe Hermione did still have feelings for Ron. "Sorry if I've messed up your crush. Don't worry, I'll set him straight when we switch back so you can continue to pine away for him," he said maliciously.
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry. I don't like Ron in that way!"
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, one he hoped hadn't been audible to Hermione.
"I just wondered why that was the excuse you came up with."
"I just got tired of lying to him about everything."
Harry quickly looked back down at his textbook. What did I just say?
"You got tired of lying to him? That wasn't a lie?" Hermione said softly in disbelief.
Harry decided that maybe now was the best time to talk to Hermione about this. After all, he would be looking at himself; it would be like he was rehearsing this conversation in the mirror, something he had done many times before.
With new resolve he looked up and met her eyes. "No."
He had to admit; he had never given himself that look in the mirror when he was practicing this speech. What was that look, anyway? If Hermione was looking at him she could tell, she always knew what he was thinking by his expression. It definitely wasn't a look of love, that was for sure.
He closed his book again. At this rate, in the condition the fragile book was in, he was going to destroy it before the conversation was over. "Not quite the response I was hoping for." He rose to reshelf the book and put it out of its misery.
"Wait!" Hermione reached out and grabbed Harry's arm to stop him. She looked around the almost full library and rose, grabbing her book bag. "Follow me."
**
Draco felt awful. His stomach was churning and his back was aching. He had hoped that Quidditch practice, even if it was with the goody-two-shoes Gryffindor team, would help him forget his discomfort. On the contrary, after on hour on a broom he felt worse. At the end of practice when he dismounted his broom, he doubled over in pain, wincing. Ron walked over to him with a concerned look on his face.
"Ginny, are you alright?" He placed his hand on her back and leaned down to look in her face. "You didn't seem like yourself out there today."
"I'm fine," Malfoy said straightening up and shrugging away from Ron. "I'm just sick to my stomach or something."
"That seems to be going around," Ron said dryly. "Are you about to throw up? Is it something you ate?"
"I don't think so," Malfoy said puzzled. "I've never felt anything quite like this before. I have this constant dull ache in my stomach and my back is just killing me."
Comprehension dawned on Ron. "What do you mean, you've never had this before? Did you forget to do your charm again?"
"What charm?"
"I don't know what charm! I'm a guy. But, I know that Mom showed you something that's supposed to keep this from happening each month. I can't believe you forgot it!"
Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.
I'm going to kill Ginny Weasley.
**
Ginny left the Slytherin common room for what she hoped was the last time and set off for the library.
This is it. We are going to Dumbledore of Pomfrey today. I cannot take being in Malfoy's body for one more minute.
She couldn't believe how much it seemed that everyone disliked Draco Malfoy. Walking down the hall, people would actually shy away from her when she passed. The only people that had a kind word to say to him were fellow Slytherins, and to be honest, she sensed that most of them were only nice to her out of a fear of his family instead of a genuine fondness. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to genuinely like Malfoy, but they also were the two stupidest gits at Hogwarts, so that didn't actually say much for Malfoy that they were his two best friends.
Then there was Pansy Parkinson. How Malfoy could stand being around her was beyond Ginny's comprehension. Could Draco not see that Pansy was angling for a marriage proposal and his money? It had been all she could do to not tell her that she knew about her and Blaise. But, as much as she disliked Draco, and spending three days in his body had not made her any fonder of the jerk, she wasn't going to break up with his girlfriend, even though she thought he could do better.
Deciding that any time spent thinking about Malfoy's love life was too much time, she decided to think about her own, and was hoping fervently that Malfoy hadn't done any irreparable damage to her relationship with Dean.
"Weasley!"
She stopped and turned at the sound of her own voice shouting at her. She suppressed a smile, but just barely, when she saw Malfoy stalking towards her with a murderous glare on his face.
"So, I guess you have received a visit from my old friend?" she asked.
Malfoy was shaking with rage. "I thought that a Weasley couldn't get any lower! Was I ever wrong! If ever there was some line in this charade, I think you crossed it with this stunt!" He pulled out his wand and pointed it at her, apparently ready to hex his own body.
Ginny grabbed his wand and pointed it down at the floor. "Oh, give it a rest, Malfoy. You haven't even had to go through the worst part, it is just PMS, pre-menstrual syndrome. Even though I loathe you I wouldn't even want you to go through that. It is a simple charm, anyway." She pulled out her wand to perform the charm. "No need to get your thong in a twist," she sneered, remembering what Hermione had told her earlier about Malfoy's slip at the breakfast table.
"Maybe you will appreciate what we girls have to go through on a monthly basis and have a little compassion." She waved her wand and muttered, "Menses melior," expecting a pink glow of light to emit from her wand. Instead, nothing happened.
Malfoy, sensing relief from his cramps and not quite as irate, was however irritated at the delay. "What is the matter? Can't you do anything right?"
Ginny gave him a murderous glare of her own. "Excuse me? You are the idiot that said the wrong incantation, or have you conveniently forgotton that? Shut up and let me think."
Again, she waved her wand and uttered the charm. Nothing. She looked at the wand in her hand, which was Malfoy's, then looked at hers in Malfoy's hand. Her face cleared as comprehension dawned on her.
"Holy sh…," she grabbed her wand from Malfoy's hand and shoved his into his hand. "It's the wands! That was the problem." Using her wand, she muttered the charm again and the expected pink light was emitted. The grimace that had been ever present on Malfoy's face since the morning relaxed immediately into a relieved grin.
"Much better. Thank you."
"Come on, let's go find Harry and Hermione."
"You've found us," Hermione said behind her.
Ginny turned to see Harry and Hermione hurrying down the hall towards them.
"It's time to go see Pomfrey," Hermione said urgently.
"I don't think that will be necessary," Ginny replied.