A Slip of the Tongue

Although this is posted under my author account, this is a joint project written between myself and Cheering Charm over the past several weeks. The entire story was her brainchild, I just came along for the ride.

If you are an ardent H/H supporter-and if you’re reading this you are...check out her fic Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered…it is NOT to be missed!!! From VLeigh to you, it’s absolutely wonderful and one of my favorites!

This is our first go at a comedy, we anxiously await any feedback you are able to offer. It’s also our first “team” project.

DISCLAIMER: If we owned anything remotely close to JK Rowling’s world Of Harry Potter, we would be sipping mint juleps on the back 40 of our estate in Bermuda. As it is – beer is as close as we get. This is loosely based on any number of films with the same premise, most recently “Freaky Friday.” It is intended for humor and it thus AU. Please Note: Draco Malfoy is a git, but he is not evil.

That being said-we hope we can bring you a few laughs! Enjoy!!

Day One –Wednesday

Completely fixated on the assignment she held in her hand, Hermione Granger stalked out of the classroom, thoroughly unaware of the other students leaping to get out of her way. The look on her face clearly broadcast her mood to anyone brave enough to look.

She was furious.

I can’t believe I could be so thick! What could’ve possessed me to think THAT would be the answer to question four? And five…who knows what alternate universe to which my brain fled during that essay! Everyone knows the magical properties of the numbers 7 and ascending odd numbers have an inversely proportional effect on the strength of the disillusionment charm! This is the worst mark I’ve ever received in Arithmancy!

It was not only the worst mark she’d ever received in her favorite class, it was the worst mark she’d received in any class. She answered two of the eight essay questions incorrectly. While most students, namely her best friends Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, would likely be celebrating over such a “dismal” performance, 75% was totally unacceptable for Hogwarts’ most successful witch.

I will fix these straight away and beg Professor Vector to consider changing my grade. I’ll grovel if I have to!

“Hermione!” Ginny called from the corridor. “Hermione!”

Hermione spun on one heel, her robes whipping around her body in a dramatic flourish. “What!” she snapped.

“Whoa, Granger!” Ginny said, throwing her hands into the air in surrender. “Filch will not be happy if you spontaneously combust in the corridor. What’s the matter?”

“This!” she replied, waving the parchment in front of Ginny’s face. “And for the record, I don’t care one jot about whether Filch is happy or not,” Hermione finished, shoving the offensive piece of paper into Ginny’s hands.

“Oh, sweetie,” Ginny said, looking up from Hermione’s assignment with a concerned look. Hermione’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

At least she’ll understand why I’m so angry.

“None of us care if Filch is happy,” Ginny continued in a sickly sweet voice.

“UGH!” Hermione roared, snapping her parchment out of Ginny’s hands as her dear friend tried desperately to maintain a straight face. Hermione stormed off toward the library, leaving Ginny shuddering in a futile attempt to contain her laughter.

Weasleys! The entire lot of them! Insufferable!

Ginny quickly composed herself and attempted to rectify the situation. “Hermione, I’m sorry! You looked like you could use a laugh.” Her voice was a bit breathless. The approaching footsteps echoing against the stone walls were clearly that of Ginny trying to keep up. “Hermione, please stop. Talk to me!”

Hermione stopped so abruptly that Ginny almost barreled right into her.

“Why should I? So you can make fun of me some more?” Hermione fisted her hands against her hips and glared at Ginny.

“Hermione, I promise I wasn’t making fun of you. I know you’re upset about your mark in Arithmancy. I was only trying to cheer you up. What can I do to rid the world of this person in front of me and bring our Hermione back?” Ginny inquired calmly.

Damn, how does she do that?

In addition to her academic prowess, Hermione was also well known for her verbal sparring ability. No one at Hogwarts was more familiar with that than Ron. Their rows had nearly become legend in the seven years they attended the school of witchcraft and wizardry.

Ginny was not far removed from Ron’s experience.

Hermione had spent so much of her time with Ron and Harry she’d never realized what she was missing in a close female companion. Ginny filled that role very well. Although a year her junior, Ginny and Hermione had become very close, and shared all the intimate secrets adolescent girls do. Unfortunately, that placed Ginny in Hermione’s “line of fire” upon occasion. To her credit, she was always able to calm Hermione down faster than anyone else…well, almost anyone. Harry Potter was, by far, the most effective at stemming the tide of a trademark Hermione Hurricane.

Before Hermione could respond, Ginny quietly took the parchment back and answered her own question. “Let’s go to the library and I’ll help you find the right answers to these.” Hermione smiled.

They set off together, Hermione inwardly admonishing herself for having lost her temper, Ginny reading Hermione’s paper as they walked…

…right into Draco Malfoy.

Both Ginny and Malfoy crashed to the floor, sprawling various books, quills, and parchment the full width of the corridor.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Ginny exclaimed, without noticing with whom she had collided. She brushed herself off and began collecting the books when his drawling voice, filled with disdain, clarified his identity.

“Great gods, Weasel! Don’t you know you’re not coordinated enough to read and walk at the same time! Look at this!” he roared. Aside from Malfoy’s belongings strewn about the floor, a cracked ink bottle had managed to spill onto his robes. Before she had a chance to reply, he continued, “Great! Now I look like a Weasley…tattered and ink stained hand me down robes from some second-hand consignment shop!” Hermione couldn’t help but notice the slits that replaced Ginny’s eyes. She knew that look. Hermione might lose her temper more often, but she wasn’t nearly as dangerous as “livid” Ginny.

“You should be so lucky ferret boy!” Hermione said, in a desperate attempt to step in before Ginny could demonstrate any number of illegal hexes on the protruding parts of Malfoy’s body.

“Shut it, mudblood!” Malfoy sneered.

“I suggest you watch your language Malfoy.” It was the unmistakable chilled voice of Harry Potter. Ginny and Hermione turned to see Harry striding up the corridor behind them, wand at the ready.

“Oh, look! It’s Granger’s little boyfriend. Come to take up for Ms. Perfect have you, Potter?” Malfoy was pulling his own wand from his robes as he spoke.

“Harry is not my boyfriend Malfoy.” Hermione said indignantly. She was far too involved with the Slytherin in front of her to notice the expression that comment produced on Harry’s face.

“Is that so? Well, maybe there is hope for you yet, Potter. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to date Granger anyway. Even Potty here, as sadly desperate as he is, would at least like a little more to play with.” He inclined his head toward Hermione’s chest as she gasped audibly. Her mouth bobbed open and closed, searching for some equally scathing remark, but nothing came to her before Malfoy continued.

“Granger, maybe you could score a boyfriend if you actually looked like a girl, eh Weasel?” he finished winking toward Ginny as if she were in on the joke.

Hermione heard nothing after that. She felt Ginny’s arms wrap around her waist as she lunged for Malfoy’s throat. In the split second that passed, Hermione struggled to break free of Ginny’s grasp as Malfoy’s wand rose to her torso. Two voices sounded above Ginny’s desperate pleading to calm Hermione. One belonged to Malfoy and the other to Harry Potter.

A sparkling stream of fuchsia light erupted from the tip of Malfoy’s wand and shot across the corridor toward Hermione. Just before she shut her eyes to brace for the impact, a cobalt hex sped past her shoulder and collided with Malfoy’s jinx in front of her. The corridor erupted into a great purple swirling light. The spell encircled the four students. Hermione felt quite confident she would throw up. The hall was spinning and she felt like she had been tossed clear across the corridor.

“What in the bloody hell?” Ginny barked. Hermione opened her eyes expecting the worst.

She couldn’t have expected this.

She looked across the corridor to see…herself? She was still being restrained by Ginny.

How can I be over there? I’m right here?

She looked down, hoping for some obvious clarification that she was not having an out-of-body experience.

It didn’t come.

How did this wand get in my hand? I never took it out of my pocket? Wait, this isn’t my wand at all. I know this wand it’s…

Reality dawned on her at the same time as it crashed vividly into the rest of the dumbstruck students. “Dear gods! Harry?”

She wasn’t sure what she was asking. Where is Harry? Who is Harry? The answer came from her own voice….across the corridor.

“Hermione?” A clear look of horror now crossed the faces of the other two students. Ginny couldn’t seem to speak at all, and Malfoy screeched. “No! I can’t be stuck inside this body!”

It was Malfoy’s voice, but that was Ginny talking. It had to be.

“You? What about me? I’m a Weasel!” Malfoy batted at the red hair flowing around his face is if it were an errant spider web he’d just walked through. The four of them broke into a cacophony of disbelieving insults and incomprehensible shouting.

“Stop it. STOP IT!” Hermione yelled at the top of her lungs…or should she say Harry’s lungs.

Whatever. She needed silence to think.

Okay, Malfoy tried to hex me and Harry tried to hex Malfoy. Their spells hit…something must’ve happened.

“Malfoy!” she barked.

“What?!” Ginny’s voice replied.

Damn, this is going to be confusing!

“What hex did you use?”

“What do you care?”

“Care? I’d like to get us the hell out of this situation and that information seems rather important!” Her voice was rising, and she raised her hand to rub the tingling headache from her forehead. Her fingers felt the undeniable presence of an old scar emblazoned on her head.

Holy cricket, I am in Harry’s body!

Her eyes snapped up to see her estranged body vigorously throwing Ginny’s arms off her waist.

“Just answer the question ferret!” Her voice sounded as Harry demanded an answer.

“Fine! I was trying to help you out Potty! I thought enlarging her chest by a factor of six might actually make them noticeable!”

“You’re a lamentable pig, Malfoy!” His own voice chided him, but his body’s stance was one Ginny had flashed every time she had a go at Ron. Her hands were on her hips and her right leg was kicked out and bent slightly at the knee. Her head was lowered, eyes narrowed, and her chest was thrust out.

More like ‘his’ chest is thrown out.

Malfoy apparently had the same thought. “For the love of Merlin, Weasel, stand like a man!”

“Well, if I’d been watching you, I wouldn’t know what that is. Would I?” Ginny chirped back. Much to the real Malfoy’s horror, his body started prancing around the corridor, swinging its hips and flopping his wrists over like some dejected beauty queen from Witch Weekly’s Hall of Shame. For as dire as the situation was, the three Gryffindors, no matter whose body they were now occupying, broke into hysterical laughter.

That image will be etched into my memory forever!

Hermione composed herself faster than the others. Harry was nearly inaudible as he announced he was attempting to transfigure Malfoy into a weasel.

“Okay then. Harry used Mutatio Mustela Strigadorsa, and Malfoy,” she glowered at him. “Used Sextus Maternus.”

“Actually Hermione, it was Mustela Kathiah.” Hermione’s voice corrected. Regardless of Harry and Hermione’s current predicament, they both exchanged beaming smiles.

“Of course, Harry. You’re absolutely right, the yellow-bellied weasel is far more appropriate, Harry,” she concurred. In their exchange of quiet laughter, Hermione nearly missed what Malfoy was muttering.

“Sextus?” a quiet voice escaped Ginny’s body.

“That is what you used right?” Hermione clarified.

“Er-yeah. That’s what it was.”

Comprehension dawned on Hermione. “Oh, my God!”

“What?” Harry & Ginny said in unison.

“He’s not only a lamentable pig, he’s insufferably stupid!” They looked at her, while Malfoy hung his head.

“He said SEXUS, and not SEXTUS!” She looked at them as if they should understand as clearly as she did. “Ugh!” Not having access to a slide rule and graph paper, she broke it down for them in quick, easy terms. “Harry’s transfiguration charm combined with Malfoy’s idiocy and ‘Mutatio Sexus’ was born!”

Harry, forgetting their situation, rounded on Malfoy’s body.

“Don’t look at me! That git is standing over there!” Malfoy’s voice echoed through the hall.

The argument raged again. Hermione couldn’t tell what any of them were saying, but clearly wanted the noise to stop.

“Shut up! All of you!” Harry’s voice climbed above the ruckus. Ginny’s voice was the last one to echo through the hall.

“…so why don’t we just do it again and switch the bloody hell back?” Ginny’s hand absent-mindedly reached down to scratch herself.

“Do you mind, Malfoy? Have some respect!” Ginny screamed from inside the Slytherin body.

“Turn about its fair play, Weasel.”

It is so strange to hear Ginny’s voice calling Malfoy’s body a Weasel. We have to get out of this before I’m confounded into a coma.

“Well, luckily we have Malfoy here to point out the blatantly obvious. I think we should all be sure we are standing in the same places and doing exactly what we were doing at the time of the jinx.” Harry and Malfoy looked at each other and scowled.

“Fine, but let’s get this over with before anyone sees me with my arms around Potty!” Malfoy hissed. They exchanged places to replay the scene.

Please let this work!

“Okay, on the count of three. One, Two, Three!”

Hermione and Ginny repeated Harry & Draco’s incantations. The same colored light erupted from their wands and met in the center of the corridor. But the purple swirling light that enveloped them before, failed to appear. They tried again, and again, with the same result. Nothing had changed. They were still trapped.

“Any more brilliant ideas Ms. Perfect?” Malfoy sneered.

“Well, if you hadn’t said it wrong Malfoy!”

“Stop it! There’s got to be a counter to this, we’ll just go to the library and find it,” Ginny replied calmly. In silent acceptance of Ginny’s plan, they trooped off to the library together.

This was an odd group to see traversing the halls together. Even if the girls had not been swapped into the boys bodies, and vice-versa, the mere fact Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were willingly walking anywhere with Draco Malfoy was enough to turn a few heads.

Hermione couldn’t help but be annoyed by the constant giggling coming from her own body.

“What in the name of Merlin is so funny about this, Harry?”

“Sorry, just had a bit of a flashback is all…’It’s levi-O-sa, not levios-A.’” Hermione’s giggles filled the hall again, while Harry’s hand connected with Hermione’s arm. “Ouch! Hey, there’s no point in beating yourself up about this.” More giggles.

“This is no time for jokes, Harry,” his own voice admonished.

The four of them stayed in the library straight through dinner. Although stomachs were rumbling and tempers were rising, they were determined to find the answer for the question that plagued every one of them. As the sun sank lower on the horizon, they grew continually more anxious. What had started as an inconvenience was ending as a nightmare. How could they be expected to live like this?

Various students fluttered in and out of the library during their tenure there. Barely any of them suppressed the shocked expressions that crossed their face as they watched Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy appearing to collaborate on homework.

To the Gryffindors’ tremendous relief, Ron had not come looking for any of them. Neither Harry nor Hermione wanted to explain this situation to their best friend. They’d rather find the counter curse, change back, and act like it never happened.

There was one problem with that plan.

They had scoured over mountains of books for hours and couldn’t find anything remotely close to what they were in such dire need of. Harry looked up to see a rather strange sight…himself, pouring over “Convenient Counter Curses,” and “So You’ve Gone Hex Happy” like they were emitting the very oxygen he needed to survive.

Do I really look like that when I’m studying? I wonder if I run my hand through my hair as much as she’s doing? No wonder it never lays flat.

Harry was drawn from his thoughts when Lavender Brown sat down across from them.

“Hi ladies! I just wanted to pass the word to you both.” She smiled mischievously. “We’ve got another girl’s night planned for tomorrow in the dormitory!”

“G-girl’s night?” Harry asked quietly.

“Sure! Just like last time except I’ve offered our room for all the girls to sleep in this time.” With that, she hopped up from the bench and followed Pavarti Patil out of the library.

“You know, Pothead,” Malfoy murmured. “This might not be so bad.”

“Malfoy, the mere fact I might be agreeing with you is enough to make me develop a counter curse on my own.” Although Harry couldn’t believe he was agreeing with anything Draco Malfoy had to say, he couldn’t deny the fact they were both red-blooded seventeen year-old males who were about to be ringside for an official all-girl slumber party. What boy in his position wouldn’t smile over that?

“What did she want?” Harry’s voice broke into his own thoughts. In a purely masculine mutual covenant, both he and Malfoy responded together.

“Nothing.”

Hermione looked at them suspiciously. ““Well, Madam Pince has chucked everyone out for the evening. We haven’t found anything, have you?”

“No,” Harry and Draco replied in unison.

“That settles it, then. We need to go to Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said turning to pick up her books.

“Why?” Malfoy piped up.

Hermione looked at him in disbelief. “Why? Have you forgotten, Malfoy, that you are in Ginny’s body? We need to hope and pray that Madam Pomfrey can get us out of this mess. And the sooner the better, if you ask me!”

“Blazes Granger, I thought you were supposed to be smart! If we go to Madam Pomfrey then we’ll have to explain what happened. Harry and I will surely get detention from now until the end of school; based on the sheer fact that this is the one thousandth time we’ve tried to hex each other in the hall.” Malfoy looked to Harry here for help, hoping that the mutual masculine covenant was still binding.

Harry, catching on to Malfoy’s obvious desire to see Parvati Patil in the buff, joined in. “As much as it pains me to say this, Malfoy’s right, Hermione. If we get caught, then he, I, and Ginny will be banned from this weekend’s Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match. It’s for the House Cup! Our last year! We have to play!”

Ginny who had joined them said, “If we don’t find the countercharm then Malfoy will be playing for Gryffindor and I will be playing for Slytherin. That isn’t going to work either.”

“So this is what we’re going to do,” Malfoy commanded. “Today is Wednesday, we search for a counter charm until Friday. If we can’t find one, then we go to Madam Pomfrey and take whatever punishment they give us. If we can, then we’ll use it and switch back. We all get to play in the Quidditch Match and no one will be the wiser. Between the four of us, and ‘Ms. Brilliant’ here…” He pointed to Hermione. “Surely we can find the countercharm,” he finished optimistically.

Hermione was looking at Malfoy and Harry warily. “Fine.”

Harry and Malfoy exchanged relieved looks as Hermione and Ginny gathered their book bags.

“We need to head back to our common rooms. Malfoy and Ginny, you two exchange schedules so you know where you’re going tomorrow,” Hermione said bossily. “Malfoy you need to tell Ginny the Slytherin password and show her to your dormitory.” Before he could respond with a scathing remark, Hermione replied. “Trust me. Ginny’s not any happier about staying there than she is about you being in Gryffindor! Now go!”

Ginny and Malfoy rose to leave the library together.

Harry and Hermione accompanied each other to the common room and found Ron hunched over an open Potions book.

“Where have you two been?” Ron said, slapping his book closed.

“In the library studying,” Harry replied quickly.

Just as Harry suspected, Ron inquired no further. It was highly plausible that Hermione would spend hours on end in the same corner of the library she’d occupied since first year. And Harry was prone to be “trapped” with her for countless hours himself, never having the heart to leave her alone.

One look at Hermione told him that she wanted to avoid all unnecessary conversations with anyone until this hex could be reversed. Her actions quickly demonstrated the same point.

“Well, I’m knackered. I’m headed to bed. G’night.” Hermione headed for the dormitory; ready to collapse into bed and forget the nightmare she'd been living since this afternoon. Unfortunately, Harry’s body set off for the dormitory staircase. It was the wrong dormitory staircase.

Ron, thoroughly confused, watched Harry stalk off toward the girls’ dormitory. His legs hadn’t carried him but two or three steps upward when the entire staircase transfigured itself into a stone slide and he crashed onto it, rolling out onto the common room floor, landing at Ron’s feet.

“Harry?” Ron said, in shocked disbelief. “What in the name of Merlin are you doing?”

We’d both like to thank everyone for the warm response ASotT is getting here at Portkey! I must apologize for the formatting-it loaded the chapter either all italics or none the times I tried it-For the times I tried, I wasn’t able to fix that issue with this chapter either…curious. I hope we wrote it well enough that you can distinguish the internal monologue from the external dialogue.

In total, there are 3 chapters and an Epilogue to this fic. As always, we would appreciate any comments you may be so inclined to make!

Cheering Charm and Vicarious Leigh

DAY TWO-THURSDAY

Hermione stretched and yawned, her normal routine for waking up. She threw her arm over her eyes, not quite ready to open them yet. She smiled as she remembered the crazy dream she had.

Imagine switching bodies with Harry, or any guy for that matter. More like a nightmare, that is.

She rubbed her eyes, which felt especially dry this morning, and opened them to an unfamiliar sight; everything was a blur. Thinking her allergies might be acting up, she rubbed her eyes again, still blurry. She raised her hand to her face and gasped.

That is not my hand!

She bolted upright in her bed and yanked the bedhangings apart to see Seamus and Dean getting out of bed, apparently on their way to the showers.

“Morning, Harry!” Dean called.

“Morning,” she replied.

Quickly shutting the hangings, she flopped back down on the bed and hid under the covers.

Mother of God, it wasn’t a dream! I’m LIVING this nightmare!

Her mind quickly raced over the events of the previous evening and she groaned out loud.
She was naive enough to actually believe there was no way this situation could be any worse.

Was she ever wrong.

She rolled over on her stomach and put her head under the pillow in a futile attempt to crawl into a hole.

What is that?

She rolled back over and lifted the blankets to see what she had rolled over on and got the shock of her life.

“Harry?” Ron called from the other side of the bed hangings. “There’s only one shower open, do you want it or can I take it?”

Hermione’s eyes, still wide open by what had greeted her under the blankets, almost bulged out of their sockets at the prospect of taking a shower in the boy’s dormitory. She was still holding the blankets up and looking down when Ron poked his head through the bedhangings. Hermione snapped the covers down and attempted to give her most innocent smile.

“What are you doing, Harry?” Ron said, looking puzzled.

“Nothing,.” Hermione said innocently.

Nodding his head and looking highly suspicious, Ron repeated, “So, do you want the shower or not?”

“No, you go ahead.”

Hermione plopped back down on the bed and covered her head with the pillow.

This smells like Harry. What am I talking about? I smell like Harry.

Feeling deviously risky, she slowly lifted the blankets again.

Yep, still there. Does it just go away on its own?

She gulped audibly, pondering her situation.

Surely I don’t have to…do anything.

She flopped back onto his pillows.

Kill me now.

She thought back to the previous night and couldn’t believe she let them convince her to not tell Madam Pomfrey or Professor Dumbledore. Surely no punishment he would mete out would be worst than this. A girl, trapped in a boy’s body, stuck in a dormitory with four other boys, and, from the sounds they were making, boys in various states of undress if she was interpreting their noises correctly.

Neville naked, now that is not something I ever wanted to see.

She heard Ron return from the showers and open his trunk.

My gosh! Ron is naked on the other side of these bed hangings.

She closed her eyes in horrified disbelief.

Wait a minute.

A mischievous smile spread across her face.

Ron is naked on the other side of these bed hangings.

She reached over and pulled back the hanging just enough that she could peek out, and realized she wasn’t wearing Harry’s glasses. All she could see was the tall, fuzzy outline of her best friend. His back was toward her and he was bending over to put on his boxers. She dropped her head a bit lower, and squinted through Harry’s unnervingly blurry vision just as Ron turned around.

“Harry, what are you doing?” he asked disbelievingly.

“Just, er- looking for my glasses,” Hermione replied quickly, groping around for them on the bedside table.

“Well, you better hurry up. You’ll be late for Charms and you know how Hermione gets when we’re late.”

Hermione peeked under the blankets, relieved that the coast was clear, and got up to start getting ready.

“Aren’t you going to shower, mate?”

“Don’t have time,” Hermione said quickly. The truth was, after the shock she received upon waking up, she wasn’t quite ready to deal with naked Harry.

There was only so much a girl could take.

***

Harry sat in a chair by the fireplace, waiting for Hermione. He had been up for hours. Actually, he’d not really slept. He couldn’t sleep. Not because he wasn’t tired, he was exhausted. Even though he was exhausted, he’d not really slept. He couldn’t. He had tossed around for hours, trying in vain to find a comfortable sleeping position, and just couldn’t. His preferred sleeping position was on his stomach with his left ear to the pillow. Last night, there were, technically, two problems with that position.

Hermione’s breasts.

He couldn’t believe he was complaining about a girl’s breasts, but he was. Right now, in his sleep-deprived state, he couldn’t help but resent that part of the woman’s anatomy that he had admired so many times before. He didn’t know if he would ever look at them the same way again.

Malfoy was wrong; Hermione had plenty to offer in that department. At least, she had enough to get in the way of a good night’s sleep. So, he had laid there, on his back staring out the window above Hermione’s bed, thinking about what had happened after he and Malfoy had arrived at the girls’ dormitory.

***

He hated Malfoy, and Malfoy returned the sentiment. But, nothing will unite two teenage boys like the prospect of seeing naked girls. Differences put aside temporarily, they bounded up the stairs in anticipation of a revealing night.

The first thing revealed was that the girls’ dormitory was much nicer than the boys. Each bedside table had a vase full of fresh flowers that, upon closer inspection, reflected the personality of their owner. Parvati’s were exotic hibiscus; Lavender’s were, unimaginatively, lavender; Ginny’s were hyacinth; Hermione’s were white chrysanthemums. Maybe it was the flowers, maybe it was the lotions and perfumes that were seen in abundance on each girl’s bedside table, but the room smelled unbelievably good. Harry caught Malfoy’s eye and could tell that the Slytherin boy’s dormitory was obviously no different than what Harry was used to; definitely not this.

Unfortunately for their unabashed male psyche, the cleanliness and sweet aroma of the room was the most revealing part of the night.

Apparently, all those fantasies that guys have about girls frolicking around in their underwear are just that, fantasies. Either that, or the Gryffindor girls were are unusually modest. Parvati had already changed into her pajamas when they arrived. Lavender, never breaking her endless stream of conversation, turned her back on everyone when she got undressed. The only person that, sadly, didn’t show any modesty at all, was a slightly overweight third year that Harry saw on his way to the bathroom. He could have lived a full and happy life without seeing that sight.

By this time, Harry was feeling slightly uncomfortable with their masquerade. Initially, the thought of having free access to a girl’s dormitory was had been appealing. Now, it just felt wrong. He glanced over at Malfoy, who was busy rummaging through Ginny’s trunk looking for pajamas. Harry strode over to him and hissed, “What are you doing?”

“Um, getting ready for bed. What does it look like I’m doing, Potter?” Malfoy whispered sarcastically. He took off Ginny’s robe and began to unbutton her shirt. Harry grabbed his hands to stop him and looked around. “You can’t do that!”

Malfoy was completely perplexed now. “What do you mean?” Parvati was staring at them with a curious look on her face. Harry smiled weakly and waved, returning his attention to Malfoy, who finally understood what Harry was concerned about.

“Potter, we look like girls. I’m sure they’ve seen Ginny naked before. It won’t be a shock to them.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t, and neither have I!”

Malfoy laughed at Harry. “I never pegged you as a prude, Potter! What are you worried about? Ginny’s honor? Please, spare me. And just what do you think she and your little Mudblood are doing right about now to our bodies, hmm? I seriously doubt that they are being quite as modest as you are. Knowing what I know, I’m sure Weasley is quite impressed right about now. Granger on the other hand, is wallowing in disappointment and questioning her decision to pine away for you all these years.” Malfoy laughed and clapped Harry’s shoulder. “I guess it is better you found out now, before her disappointment became obvious while in a more compromising position.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy, all male unity flying out the window. “Trust me, the only thing that Hermione is disappointed in about is the lack of flowers on her bedside table.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Potter.” Malfoy took off Ginny’s shirt and gave an appreciative nod to his chest. “Well, I’m impressed,” he stated. Harry quickly turned, having seen more than he wanted to of his best friend’s sister. Grabbing Hermione’s pajamas out of her trunk, he walked to the bathroom to change. Malfoy may be a complete jerk, but he wasn’t going to let Malfoy see Hermione’s naked body. And, he wasn’t going to ogle at Ginny’s, either.

***

“Hermione!” Ron called across the common room, startling Harry out of his reverie. “Ready for breakfast?” Ron stopped abruptly, a look of embarrassment on his face. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

“Where’s Harry?” Harry asked.

“He was getting ready when I left. He should be down in a minute. You coming?”

“No,” Harry said distractedly, looking towards the staircase leading to the boy’s dorm. “I’ll wait for Harry.”

Looking a little offended, Ron huffed, “Whatever,” and stormed out of the portrait hole.

A minute later Hermione ran down the stairs, surveying the common room for Harry. Harry bolted up from his chair and strode across the hall to meet her.

“Harry, could you at least try to walk like a girl? I look like some rugby reject when you walk like that.” Hermione gasped when she saw Harry up close. His clothes were on haphazardly; the zipper and button of the skirt were in the front, instead of the back. His shirt was untucked and to the trained eye it was obvious he was not wearing a bra. His hair was an absolute mess and there was not a stitch of makeup on his face. He looked like he had slept in his clothes, rolled out of bed and decided he was ready for the day.

“Bloody hell, Harry! I look awful!”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, completely clueless.

“What do I mean?” Hermione repeated incredulously. “I mean look at me! My hair is a bird’s nest, I’m wearing no make up, my skirt is on backwards and if I’m not mistaken, I’m not wearing a bra!”

“Well, Hermione, give me a break! I don’t know how you deal with this hair; I could hardly get a brush through it.”

“There is your problem. Never brush it. That just makes it bushy!”

“That is a piece of information I could’ve used before I broke your comb trying to brush it. I don’t have any idea how to put on make-up and truthfully, it all looked just a little frightening. And that was nothing compared to trying to figure out how in the hell you put a bra on! If I would have known last night when I took it off what a puzzle it would be to get back on I would have slept in it.”

“You took off my bra?” Hermione whispered dramatically.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes I did, Hermione. Surely you didn’t expect me to sleep in that thing?”

“You should have slept in my clothes! I slept in yours!”

“Yeah, right! Like you didn’t jump at the chance to check me out,” Harry said accusingly with more than a little arrogance.

Hermione gasped. “I did not! Frankly, I’m avoiding that very thing. I didn’t even take a shower this morning.”

“That’s obvious,” Harry said, waving his hand in front of his nose.

“What do I care? You’re the one everyone will think has bad hygiene, not me.”

“Just as it is you that everyone will think looks a fright, not me,” Harry said wickedly.

Hermione studied Harry for a moment, realizing that she didn’t need to be fighting with him about this. If they were going to get through this they needed to work together.

“Okay, I tell you what. I’ll go back upstairs and clean up a bit. You go back to my room and grab my make-up bag and a bra. Meet me in your room. Everyone should be gone by now. I’ll do your hair and make-up and teach you how to get a bra on a girl.” She rolled her eyes.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “This is so unreal.” As they were getting ready to part ways, Malfoy came out of the girl’s dormitory looking like a million galleons. Hermione stared, her mouth gaping open. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Ginny look that stunning. He came over to the two of them with a disdainful look on his face.

“You two look awful,” he said, laughing.

“How did you do that, Malfoy?” Harry said in awe.

“Do what?” he said.

Harry motioned up and down Ginny’s body with his hand. “That. Ginny looks great.”

Malfoy sneered, looking Hermione’s body up and down. “I had quite a bit more to work with than you did, Potter.” Laughing, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Harry caught Hermione as she lunged for Malfoy and was struggling to hold her back. “Let me at him Harry! I’m a guy now, I’m strong enough to kick his ASS!” she said, yelling the last word at his back.

Still struggling to hold Hermione back, Harry said, “Yes, you are. But everyone will think I am kicking Ginny’s ass!”

Hermione regained her senses and turned to go to the boy’s dormitory. “Meet me upstairs.”

Harry quickly retrieved the items they needed and returned to the boy’s dorm. He was hit with the unmistakable musky scent of teenage males when he walked in the door and immediately missed the floral smell of the girls’ dorm.

We will just keep that little nugget of information to ourselves.

He heard water running and sat down on his bed, that had been neatly made by Hermione.

That is enough to give us away right there.

It was the only one of the five beds that had been made. All the others were in complete disarray, with wet towels tossed aside and clothes spilling out of various trunks.

Hermione returned from the bathroom wearing boxers and rubbing her hair with a towel. Harry stared at himself walking towards him.

This is so weird.

Hermione caught his eye and nodded her head. “This is weird.”

“How was your shower,” Harry asked mischievously.

Hermione began getting dressed in Harry’s clothes. “I didn’t take a shower. I washed your hair in the sink. The last think I want to do is see you naked.”

“The last thing you want to do?’” Harry asked slightly offended. “Why?” As much as he hated to admit it, he was beginning to worry if Malfoy hadn’t been right about his ability to impress Hermione.

As if reading his mind, Hermione replied tartly, “Oh, don’t get a complex, Harry. After what greeted me when I woke up this morning, I don’t think I could handle seeing you naked.”

“What greeted you?” Harry asked in confusion.

Hermione gave him a withering look, and looked down at his crotch. Comprehension dawned on Harry. “Oh! That!” he said, blushing furiously, looking down at the ground. “Sorry. It isn’t something you can control. I should have warned you, I guess.”

“That would have been nice,” Hermione said testily.

“Well, you didn’t tell me about all of this either,” Harry said, gesturing to the make-up bag.

Hermione sighed. “Harry, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. This is just a little stressful, is all. I never imagined that the first experience I would have with a naked man would be like this. It is just weird and peculiar on so many levels that I can’t even begin to sort it all out.”

“I know what you mean,” Harry said quietly, thinking back to last night when he changed into Hermione’s pajamas. It wasn’t exactly the perspective of Hermione’s breasts he ever thought he would have. He would prefer the perspective he had in his fantasies.

“Where’s my bra?” she asked, jarring him out of his reverie.

At least I can enjoy the view I do have, he thought as he pulled a lacy black bra out from the pocket of his robes and dangled it from one finger. Hermione smirked, “Not exactly the one I would have chosen, but you’re the one that has to wear it all day.” She took the bra and realized what an odd scene this was. “Close your eyes,” she demanded.

“What? Why?”

“Because this is just a weird scene, Harry. Here I am as you, putting a bra on myself, who is actually you. We have never been undressed together before, and I am you, touching my own boobs with your hands, while you watch through my eyes.”

“So what’s the problem? I saw your boobs last night.”

Hermione looked at him exasperatedly. “Fine. But you haven’t looked at my boobs with me there watching you look at my boobs. And to top it all off, I’m not watching you do it, I’m watching me do it! Blast it! Just close your bloody eyes and shut up!”

Harry stood there placidly as Hermione took his shirt off. “Hurry up, I’m cold.”

“I can see that,” she replied dryly. “Hold your arms out in front of you.”

He did as instructed and felt her slip the straps over her arms and onto her shoulders. He shivered slightly as his hands ran over Hermione’s arms. “You can drop your arms, now.” He felt the bra tighten around his torso as Hermione hooked the bra at the back. She straightened the straps on his shoulders and put her shirt back over his head. “There, you can open your eyes now.”

Harry did and saw his face blushing. “Um, Hermione?”

“Yes?” she replied, picking up the make-up bag.

“They are a little, um, smushed. It isn’t very comfortable.”

She sighed. “You probably need to adjust them a bit.” He reached up to do just that and Hermione turned around. “I can’t watch,” she murmured.

“Done.”

“Let’s put your face on,” she said turning and opening her make-up bag.

First she grabbed a clip for her hair. “The hair is a lost cause for today. We’ are going to have to put it up.” She turned Harry to the side and pulled his hair back into a low ponytail. Twisting it around and up, she clipped it into a loose French Twist. “Done,” she declared.

She went through the make-up process step by step with Harry, starting with the moisturizer. As she rubbed the moisturized into his face she said, “I don’t wear too much make-up so it shouldn’t be too hard for you to do. Let’s just hope you won’t have to do it again,” she finished, smoothing out the light dots of base she had placed on his forehead, nose and chin. Instinctively, as if he had done this many times before, Harry closed his eyes as she applied the make-up. He heard her grab something else out of the bag and say, “Open your eyes.” Obediently, he did and saw a wet black brush heading straight for his eye.

“Whoa! What is that?” he asked alarmed.

“Mascara. It goes on your eyelashes.”

“You aren’t going to poke me in the eye with that thing, are you?”

“Harry, I’ve been doing this for years, what do you think?”

Warily, he acquiesced. “Close your eyes about halfway…there, perfect.” She began gently brushing Harry’s eyelashes with the brush. Watching her, he noticed her chewing on his lip in concentration. He smiled, thinking how strange it was to see a typical Hermione expression on his face.

Seeing him smile, she stopped. “What?”

“You’ are chewing my lip,” he said with mirth.

Confusion clouded her expression for a moment until she realized what he was talking about. She dipped the mascara wand back into the bottle, and pulled it out to begin on his other eye. “For a moment there it seemed more like I was looking in a mirror, putting my own make-up on.”

“What the…?!” Ron called in shocked disbelief from the door. Harry and Hermione looked up, startled by the interruption, with guilty expressions on their faces. They looked at each other and realized how absurd this scene would look to Ron; Harry standing over Hermione with a tube of mascara, putting make-up on her face.

“Hey, Ron,” Hermione said innocently, trying discreetly to pocket the mascara.

“What are you two doing? I came looking for you when you didn’t show for breakfast.”

Harry stood up. “Oh, nothing. Harry was just trying to prove to me that putting on make-up was easy. We had this conversation yesterday, about girls and how long it takes them, I mean us, to get ready. He just didn’t understand how it could take more than a few minutes to put make-up on. So, I told him he didn’t need to knock it until he tried it and I dared him to try to put on my makeup and do my hair this morning to see how long it would take him.”

Harry said all this so quickly that it seemed more like one long sentence. Hermione was a little confused, but seeing as she had no plausible explanation as to why Harry would be putting make-up on herself, she grinned at Ron weakly and shrugged her shoulders, hoping he would buy the excuse.

Whether or not he bought it they didn’t know. He looked at them strangely and said, “We’re going to be late for class,” and then turned to walk out the door.

***

Malfoy walked into the Great Hall and instinctively moved towards the Slytherin table. He sat down beside Pansy Parkinson and saw her recoil. “What are you doing over here, Weasley?” Malfoy stopped spooning his eggs onto his plate. Recovering quickly he said nonchalantly, “I thought I would add a little class to the place.”

“You? A Weasley? Adding class to a place? That’s rich,” Pansy laughed disdainfully. “Ha, I bet that is a first; ‘rich’ and ‘Weasley’ being used in the same sentence.” Raucous laughter followed Malfoy as he rose to go to the Gryffindor table. He passed himself on the way and Ginny said angrily, “What are you doing, Malfoy?”

“I made a mistake, alright!” he replied defensively.

“Meet me in the Room of Requirement in ten minutes,” Ginny said under her breath. “Get out of my way, Weasel Queen,” she said loudly for everyone to hear as she walked on to the Slytherin table.

Ten minutes later she arrived to find Malfoy already there, waiting. She slammed the door and stalked over to where he was sitting. “You didn’t warn me that I was going to have a midnight visitor to my bed, Malfoy!”

Malfoy grinned. “Oops, did I forget to mention Pansy?”

Glaring at him she replied, “Yes, you did. I had to fight that cow off. But, not before she slipped me the tongue. Yuck, I’m going to be scarred for life. How do you stomach it? She’s a horrible kisser!”

“Well, she has other talents that make up for it.”

“I almost got first hand experience with her ‘other talents.’ Really, Malfoy, not telling me about that was low, even by your standards.”

“I thought you might like to have a little experience from a guy’s point of view. Find out what we really like.”

Ginny looked at him in horror. “You are sick, you know that?”

Draco’s face softened a little when he saw how disgusted she was. “I forgot, okay? With everything else going on last night I completely forgot to tell you about Pansy. I’m sorry, Ginny. Really.”

Ginny looked at him, trying to gauge if he was being sincere or facetious. She was surprised when she believed he was being sincere. “I hope Dean corners you and slips you the tongue.”

“Dean? Thomas? You are dating that loser?”

“He is not a loser! And, yes, we’ have been dating for over a year.”

“You could do a lot better than that,” Draco said derisively.

“Like I’m going to take dating advice from someone who is banging Pansy Parkinson on a nightly basis. For someone that thinks he is so high and mighty she is way below your standards. With all of the pureblood inbreeding going on in your family, your kids will be cross-eyed, eleven-toed, dim-witted morons. Hey, but they will be pureblood, so it’s okay.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I seem to recall that you are pureblood. I guess your inbreeding theory explains a lot about your family,” he replied coldly.

Ginny walked up to Draco and looked down at herself with hatred. “You need to lay off my family, Malfoy.”

Bringing himself up as high as he could in Ginny’s petite frame, Malfoy replied, “Or what?”

“Wouldn’t it be something if a rumor somehow started that you were seen snogging a Muggle-born witch? Or, maybe those whisperings about just how close you are with Crabbe and Goyle begin to take a more sinister form.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me.”

Draco looked up into his cold blue eyes and knew that she would, and a grudging respect for the smallest Weasley began to grow.

Changing the subject, Draco said, “What did you think about the Slytherin House?”

Relaxing from her defensive stance just a bit, Ginny replied, “Cold, dark, and lots of green. Not my favorite color.”

“See anything interesting last night?”

“I got an eyeful of Crabbe and Goyle’s big white asses, but I wouldn’t call that interesting. Disgusting is more like it. I plan on using a memory charm on myself to rid that image from my mind. Other than that, nope, nothing.”

“Really?” Draco drawled looking pointedly down at his pants.

Ginny, who knew what he had been getting at from the beginning replied, “You know, Draco, I couldn’t really tell a difference at all from my normal body. There just isn’t much down there to speak of.” She leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I’ve seen better,” and walked out the door.

**

The end of the day couldn’t come soon enough for any of them. By an unspoken understanding, they met in the library when classes ended to recommence the search for a counter curse. In an attempt to draw as little attention to their foursome as possible, Harry had stolen a table in the back from some first year Hufflepuffs. Malfoy was the last to arrive, slamming down his bookbag and plopping Ginny’s petite frame into a chair. He slouched down in the chair with his legs spread wide in a typically male fashion. Ginny and Hermione were staring at him with disgusted looks on their faces; Harry was obliviously looking through a dusty book.

“What?” Malfoy snapped.

“Please tell me you didn’t sit like that all day,” Ginny said scathingly.

Malfoy noted his posture and rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I’ve been prissing around all day and would like, for just one peaceful moment, to feel like a guy again.”

Hermione plopped a huge book in front of him. “Then start reading so we can all feel normal again.”

They passed the next few hours in concentrated silence; a silence punctuated only by brief gasps of hope, and followed by grunts and groans of despair. Parvati rounded the corner and stopped in her tracks at the sight of Malfoy sitting with Ginny, Harry & Hermione.

Puzzled, she looked at Hermione and said, “I was looking for you two. Don’t forget about tonight. It’ is going to be just like last time. Ginny, can you bring what we had before?”

Trying not to look too confused, Malfoy said, “Sure.”

Parvati beamed at her. “Great! We are going to start in an hour or so. Don’t be late!” Throwing a skeptical glance at Malfoy, she turned and glided away.

Harry and Draco glanced at each other and quickly looked down at the open books in front of them. Ginny and Hermione, both with narrowed eyes, caught the glance and exchanged dark looks with each other.

“Spill it, Potter. What is going on tonight?” Hermione demanded.

“Nothing,” he replied innocently.

“Malfoy?” Ginny said.

He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally and continued reading.

Harry, who had his hand on his forehead, shielding his eyes from her, took a chance and glanced at Hermione from under his hand. She was looking to where Parvati had disappeared, her brow furrowed in concentration. He jerked his head back to the book when she caught him looking at her with a decidedly guilty expression on his face.

“Bloody hell!” She slammed her book shut, making Malfoy and Harry jump. They were caught and they knew it.

“What?” Ginny said.

“They’re having a slumber party tonight!”

“What?!” Ginny exclaimed, looking at Malfoy who had slouched down even further in his seat, hiding behind a propped up book.

“That’s why they didn’t want to go to Madam Pomfrey! It had nothing to do with Quidditch and everything to do with male hormones!” Hermione began to gather the books together, stacking them forcefully to return them to Madam Pince. “I can’t believe how stupid we were to believe them!” She stopped stuffing parchment and quills into her bag and looked at Harry. “I expected more from you, Harry Potter. I’m not surprised at Malfoy, but you…”

“Hey! What does that mean?” Draco said offended.

Hermione looked at him scathingly. “It means I don’t think much of you, Draco. Or, have I not made that abundantly clear over the last seven years?” She flung her bag over her shoulder. “We are going to Madam Pomfrey right now. Absolutely no discussion. Let’s go.”

“Wait a minute,” said Ginny, who had been unusually quiet during Hermione’s tirade.

“For what? So they can lie to us again and go do God knows what to our bodies in the shower?”

“Now that is uncalled for!” Harry chimed in. “I don’t know what you’ are thinking about, but I wouldn’t do anything…like that to you!”

“Why not?” Hermione said indignantly. “See something more to your liking with Parvati or Lavender?”

“For your information, we didn’t see anything last night!”

“It was quite disappointing,” Draco said quietly.

They all three looked at him with disgust. “Oh, come on Potter. You were disappointed, too. Everyone was so modest, turning their backs to get dressed. Even Potter went into the bathroom to change.”

Hermione looked sharply at Harry, who looked down embarrassedly. “I didn’t want him,” he spat, “to see you naked.”

Ginny rounded on Malfoy. “I’m sure you did the same for me regarding Harry,” she said sarcastically.

“No need to worry. Potter is too much of a prude to take advantage of the situation,” Draco said derisively.

Ginny looked at Harry, “Thank you. At least one of you is a gentleman.”

He shrugged his shoulders and blushed.

“Let’s go to the hospital wing right now,” Hermione said, taking charge.

“What day is it, Hermione?” Ginny asked.

“What? It’s Thursday. What difference does that make?”

“What is the date?”

“The seventeenth, why?”

Ginny raised her eyebrows, attempting to silently communicate something to her friend. Hermione’s perplexed expression cleared and she started laughing hysterically. “Perfect!” she squealed.

Ginny gathered her books. “Let’s go.”

She and Hermione started walking away. “Where are you going?” Harry asked.

“To bed. You guys have fun at your slumber party!” they called over their shoulder, laughing uncontrollably.

“What was that all about?” Draco asked, watching them walk away.

“I don’t know. But, something tells me it isn’t good.”

***

As had been their luck the night before, when Harry and Draco arrived in the girls’ dormitory everyone had already changed into their pajamas. One look at the scene that greeted them and they knew they were in for a long, disappointing night. The room was full of girls in various stages of a makeover. Girls were painting toenails, braiding and styling each other’s hair, applying a green smelly mud-like substance on their faces and letting it dry into a white-ish green cracked mess. Harry and Draco looked at each other and knew that their male fantasies had been irreparably shattered.

“There you are!” called Parvati. “Ginny, where’ is the butterbeer?”

“Um, the butterbeer?”

Parvati rolled her eyes. “The butterbeer you were supposed to nick from the kitchens.”

“Oh, right. They were all out, sorry.”

“Really? That’s strange.” Parvati waved her hand. “Oh, well. It’s just empty calories anyway. We’re better off. Go on, get changed and I’ll apply your mud masks for you.”

“Great!” Harry said with false enthusiasm, his smile slipping from his face as he and Draco turned to retrieve their pajamas.

Retreating together to the bathroom to change, Draco said under his breath, “This is going to be a nightmare.”

“You’re telling me.”

Two hours later, toes and nails painted, hair done and with their face fully ‘hydrated,’ Draco and Harry were sitting in a circle with the other girls, about to begin a game of Truth or Dare. “Okay, Eloise,” Lavender said. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” replied the sixth year girl.

“True or False You have a crush on Harry Potter!”

A collective groan was heard throughout the room. “Lavender, can’t you come up with something more original?” Parvati said. “Everyone has a crush on Harry. There’s no secret there.” Harry shot Draco a smug look. “Except you, Hermione. I still don’t believe that you and Harry have never gotten together. You’ve been best friends for years and you really have never, ever…you know, messed around even a little?”

Harry was a little shocked by the directness of the question. “I thought this was Eloise’s question. Not mine,” he evaded.

“That’s okay,” Eloise piped in. “I’d rather hear your answer. I’ll go later.”

Harry squirmed a little under the gazes of so many girls. He glanced over at Draco who was looking at him with the same questioning look as the other girls.

“So?” Parvati prodded.

“Er, no we haven’t ever messed around.”

“Why not?” Lavender asked. “You’ve got to admit that he’s hot. Even you can see that!”

“Well, sure, he’s handsome,” Harry said, smirking a little at Draco who had a disgusted look on his face. “The opportunity hasn’t ever presented itself, I guess.”

“Well, you know he wants to shag you,” Parvati said sagely.

“What?” Harry exclaimed.

“I saw it in this movie once. This girl and guy are best friends, well, they aren’t when he makes this comment, but they become best friends later. Anyway, they woman says she had guy friends that are only friends. The man says that she might think she does, but she really doesn’t. When asked to explain what he means he says that guys are always thinking about sex and even if they are your friend, they want to shag you. So, without a doubt, Harry wants to shag you. Given the opportunity, he would.”

“So, what happened in the movie?” Eloise asked.

“They become best friends, sleep together, hate each other for a while because of it and end up living happily ever after.”

“Is that the movie where the woman fakes an orgasm in a restaurant?” Lavender asks.

“‘I’ll have what she’s having,’” Parvati quoted, busting into a fit of giggles along with Lavender.

“So, Hermione, when are you going to give Harry the opportunity?” Eloise asked suggestively.

Harry’s and Draco’s mouths were open in shock.

Girls really talk like this?

“Mark it down! Hermione is too shocked to talk.” Lavender said.

“That’s a first,” Parvati said wryly. “Speaking of firsts, why are you and Ginny so friendly with Malfoy lately?”

“Friendly? I would hardly call sitting at a library table with him friendly,” Malfoy said quickly.

“Once, maybe, but two days in a row? That is friendly. At the very least, it’ is suspicious. What’s going on?” Lavender asked.

Malfoy realized that Harry was still too stunned by the previous subject to help him out of this line of questioning. Deciding to change his tack he grinned and said, “I don’t know, Malfoy is pretty cute.”

“Cute? Malfoy?” Parvati said skeptically. She stuck her finger down her throat and made a gagging noise.

That brought Harry back to life quickly. He smirked at Malfoy, who had a stunned expression on his face. Obviously, he didn’t expect that reaction, especially from the best looking girl at Hogwarts.

“He’s not bad,” admitted Lavender. “Maybe he would be cuter if he wasn’t such a prick. I’ve never heard one nice comment from his mouth.”

“I wouldn’t touch anyone who had slept with Pansy Parkinson with a ten foot pole,” Eloise said.

Like anyone would want to touch you, Malfoy thought derisively.

“Merlin knows where she’s been.” Lavender shuddered. “I wonder if Malfoy knows that she’s been sleeping with Blaise Zambini behind his back?”

“Now, he is hot!” Eloise trilled. “But, again, the whole Pansy connection is a turn off. She is such a skank.”

Malfoy didn’t hear any more of the conversation. Pansy is cheating on me? With Zambini? I though he was gay! Just wait until I get my hands on her!

Harry watched Malfoy’s eyes narrow and he knew that Pansy was in for quite a shock when they switched bodies back. As much as he hated Malfoy, Harry had to admit it was a little pathetic for him to find out about his girlfriend this way.

The game went on interminably; to the point that Harry was so bored he was wishing he were in a History of Magic class for some excitement.

“Your turn, Hermione. Truth or Dare?” Eloise said.

What the hell.

“Dare.”

“Oooohhhh!” the other three girls said in unison. Malfoy rolled his eyes.

How bad could it be?

Eloise looked thoughtfully around the room, trying to decide what to make Hermione do. Eyes sparkling with mischief she said, “Kiss Ginny.”

That’s bad.

Of all the people in the room she picked Ginny?

Harry looked at Malfoy who had a disgusted look on his face. Parvati saw it and said, “What’s the big deal? You’ve done it before.”

Harry and Malfoy’s heads snapped around to stare at Parvati in amazement.

What do these girls do in this dorm?

It isn’t like I’m kissing Malfoy. This is Hermione’s lips kissing Ginny’s lips.

I wonder if Hermione and Ginny knew this might happen.

“I’d really rather not kiss Ginny again. I mean, been there done that. Pick someone else.”

“Nope.”

Harry looked at Malfoy, not believing he was about to do this.

I think I’m going to be sick.

There isn’t a naked girl alive that is worth having to kiss Potter.

Harry leaned over and quickly kissed Malfoy on the lips. He immediately wiped his mouth on his sleeve, Malfoy doing the same.

“That was lame.”

“That’s all you’re getting from me,” Harry responded. He stretched dramatically, hoping to be the instigator for turning off the lights. “I’m turning in.”

Everyone agreed that the energy had left the party and started getting in their beds. “Oh, don’t forget girls. It is the seventeenth.”

“Right! Thanks for the reminder,” Parvati said.

“I already did mine,” Eloise piped up.

Lavender and Parvati grabbed their wands, said an incantation that Harry and Malfoy hadn’t heard before and waved their wands in front of their abdomens.

“If I lost all of my other powers but this one it would be okay with me. I don’t know how Muggles deal with it,” Lavender said.

“Amen.”

Harry and Malfoy exchanged puzzled glances and got into bed.

A chorus of “good nights” followed and the lights were extinguished. Unbeknownst to the other, Harry and Malfoy were thinking the exact same thought. I spent two days in a girl’s body for that?

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.

Thanks so much for the reviews! We’ve read-and discussed- them all.

We wanted to make one point. We didn’t see Hermione as “checking out” Ron any more than any other red blooded teenage girl would’ve done if given the situation. That and the fact they were best friends, we thought the compulsion would be rather hard to resist on her part. We don’t see that as her “liking” Ron any more than the lack of a hug in CoS (movie) indicated she liked him. We worked in the shower scene to highlight the dichotomy there. She was having issues looking at Harry -even though she was in his body and it was inevitable-she wasn’t having issues checking out Ron. That’s because she doesn’t like Ron in that way…the same can’t be said for Harry.

Anyway, hope that clears it up a bit from our perspective….

Without further ado-Cheering Charm and I would like to present the final installment of “A Slip of the Tongue.”

We hoped you enjoyed the ride!

Vicarious Leigh

This feels sooooooo good!

Harry was flying around the Quidditch Pitch in large, loopy circles, searching for the Snitch. Below him, his fellow Gryffindors were battling with the Slytherins well into the second hour of the match. Malfoy, as usual, was following Harry around riding his coattails, letting him do the work of finding the Snitch, hoping to use the advantage of his broom speed when the chase for the Snitch began.

The score was 320 – 150, Gryffindor. At the rate Gryffindor was scoring goals, and with the Snitch being so elusive, this match was on track to break all school records. Ginny had already broken one record by scoring her 25^th goal. Harry had never seen her play like this. She had always been good, probably the best chaser he had played with, but today she was a woman possessed. She was literally flying circles around the Slytherins, making their attempts at defending her look downright ridiculous. Just about the only chance Slytherin had for winning was if Malfoy caught the Snitch, which had never happened against Harry.

Harry didn’t mind the extended game. He was so happy to be back up on his broomstick that he was secretly hoping that the Snitch remained elusive for a bit longer. It had only been three days that he had been in Hermione’s body and unable to fly, and honestly he had gone longer stretches without getting on his broomstick before. But, upon reflection he now realized that it wasn’t the fact that he hadn’t flown. It was the fact that he, as Hermione, could not fly, that had been so difficult. Hermione, as evidenced by her worshipping at the porcelain God a few days ago, was not a flyer. He would not have been able to fly even if he had thought of it (which he honestly hadn’t, due to other more pressing issues) or risk the exposure of their charade.

Harry thought back over the previous days, still absently looking for the Snitch and putting Draco through his paces on the broom. It had been an eye opener being in another person’s body for three days. The fact that it was Hermione’s put an entirely new wrinkle in his perspective. He would never be able to watch her absently twist her hair around her finger as she is was thinking and not remember what it felt like when he found himself doing the same thing in Potions. How had he never noticed that she chewed on her lip when she was concentrating? The memory of her chewing on his lip while putting make-up on him made him laugh. In fact, when he had returned to his body the day before, he noticed that his bottom lip was just a bit sore from her habit. Not that he had minded at all.

**

“In here,” Ginny demanded, leading them into a vacant classroom off the third floor.

“Why don’t we need to go to Pomfrey? Did you find a counter charm?” Hermione asked anxiously.

“No, I don’t think we need a counter charm.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Have any of you used your wands since Wednesday night?”

“I’m sure I….” Hermione began. Comprehension dawned on her face as she made the connection Ginny had made minutes before.

“Neither have I,” Ginny said. “I’ve had Potions, Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology. None of them require wandwork.”

“We took a written exam in Transfiguration. The practical exam is next week,” Harry said.

“Malfoy?” Ginny said. “I know you have used your wand. I have Charms on Thursday. Did it work?”

Draco looked at the ground sheepishly. “No.”

“Malfoy, you are unbelievable!” Ginny roared. “Let me guess. You were too taken with the thought that I would be receiving a failing grade than to clue in as to why the charm didn’t work.”

Harry and Hermione looked at Draco, who was studying a crack in the floor, in utter disbelief.

“Just great! I had to spend yet another night fighting off Pansy Parkinson because all you could think of was getting back at me for some perceived wrong or vague grudge you have against my family. You are really a piece of work. Here I was feeling sorry for you because no one in the entire school likes you.” Ginny snatched her wand from Draco’s hand and jabbed his toward him. Reluctantly, he took it from her. “Well, it is no wonder, now is it? I was wrong. You deserve Pansy. Have you not figured out that she’s only interested in the Malfoy family fortune? I hope you are stupid enough to marry her and are miserable for the rest of your life.”

She stalked away from the three of them, who were staring at her stunned, positioning herself where Malfoy had been when the erroneous hex had been performed. “Let’s get this over with. And, lets pray to Merlin that it works. Otherwise, I’m marching right out this door and proposing to Pansy for you Malfoy.”

The other three obliged, more out of sheer terror of Ginny than anything else. Harry and Hermione swapped wands and took their respective places. With fire in her eyes, Ginny roared the hex at Hermione as she executed the hex Harry had performed. Bright light shot out of their wands and joined, engulfing the four in a familiar purple glow.

When the light dissipated, the four of them stood there, staring at each other. Ginny walked up to Malfoy, her wand raised. “Here,” she said, thrusting Malfoy’s ebony wand at him, while snatching her willow wand from his hand. “Now I can hex you,” she said with a smirk. She snapped her wand level with Malfoy’s eyes.

“Hold on!” Hermione interjected, switching wands with Harry once more. “That is what got us into this mess in the first place.” She gently pushed Ginny’s wand down, pointing it to the floor. “We need to talk about something though.”

“What?” Malfoy asked, still watching Ginny for signs of an impending jinx.

“Well, no one but the four of us know about this…masquerade, right?”

The three of them nodded their heads in agreement.

“We need to keep it that way. We cannot tell a single soul.” She turned to Ginny. “You can’t tell Dean, we can’t tell Ron, and you, Malfoy, can’t tell…whomever it is you tell stuff to.” Harry smirked at Malfoy’s apparent confusion.

The look on Malfoy’s face was not lost on Hermione. She rolled her eyes and appeared to search for small words Malfoy would understand. “If anyone finds out…if Dumbledore finds out…there will be hell to pay. Most likely we will be expelled, since technically we spent two nights in the dorms of the opposite sex. Not to mention the fact that we were using magic in the halls. Throw on top of it the fact that it involves Harry and you,” she stressed, “ and there is absolutely no way they will only give us detention.”

“I have no desire to tell anyone that I spent three days in Malfoy’s body.” Ginny said dryly.

“I won’t tell,” Harry said. “Even though Ron thinks I’m gay.”

Malfoy sniggered at that remark. “Thinks?”

“Malfoy!” Hermione snapped. “Do you agree to keep your mouth shut?”

He looked at the three Gryffindors that he had hated for seven years. “I agree.”

Hermione visibly relaxed. “Great. Let’s get out of here.”

They separated at the Great Hall, Malfoy turning to walk to the Slytherin common room and Ginny going to find Dean. Harry and Hermione stood watching them go.

“Do you think we can trust Malfoy?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied. “I’m hoping his dislike of the Weasley’s will keep him from broadcasting the fact that he was in a Weasley body for three days.”

“At least he can’t hide behind his father anymore. If Dumbledore finds out, he will get in just as much trouble as we will. That’s what I’m pinning my hopes on.”

They stood there for a moment, avoiding each other’s eyes. Harry looked at his watch. “It is almost time for dinner.”

“Is it?”

“Are you hungry.”

“Not really.”

“Me either.”

Their eyes met, both thinking how strange it was to be looking at the other again. Although it had only been three days, they had gotten somewhat accustomed to their new point of view. Now that their correct perspective had been restored, they both wanted to do what would have seemed somewhat incestuous only an hour before.

Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand. “Come on.”

He led her to classroom eleven, in a corridor off of the ground floor. Poking his head in the door he called, “Firenze?”

Harry looked around and listened for the sound of approaching hooves. Hearing only silence, he opened the door wider and pulled Hermione inside the classroom.

“Wow!” Hermione said, looking around. She took in the unbelievable sight of a forest in the castle, the tall towering trees and verdant green grass. “I’ve always meant to come in here, but…”

Harry cut her off with a crushing kiss. He had wanted to do this for so long, long before he had lived inside her body. Earlier today in front of the bathroom mirror, he had traced his fingers along her lips, becoming familiar with every curve, hoping to use that knowledge to his advantage when he was himself again. Nothing could have prepared him for the feel of her lips on his. He ran his tongue along her lips, tracing from memory the path his fingers had gone before. She opened her mouth and pulled him down to her, arching her body against his.

He wrapped his hand in her hair, the hair he had cursed just days before, but now was appreciating for its softness and appealing green apple scent.

I don’t even like apples.

I do now.

He wrapped his other hand around her waist and pulled her even closer, trailing his hand down lower and lower, until he remembered…a red thong.

**

“Harry! HARRY! The Snitch!!”

Harry was startled out of his daydream by Ginny, Ron, and the entire Gryffindor team yelling at him and pointing. He looked down to see Malfoy streaking after what Harry could only assume was the Snitch. He took off with really no chance of catching Malfoy on his newer, faster broom. His only hope was that, like so many times before, Malfoy would flub it and miss the Snitch all together, thus giving Harry another chance.

There is a first time for everything.

Before Harry was even within thirty feet of Malfoy, he saw Draco raise his hand in triumph, little fluttering wings framing his hand, giving the illusion that Malfoy’s hand was flying in the air. Harry expected to see the Slytherins bombard Draco with congratulatory back slaps and hugs. Instead, they flew down to the ground with disgusted looks on their faces, leaving Malfoy alone on his broom, the triumphant smile sliding from his face. Harry looked up at the scoreboard and saw the final tally: Gryffindor 340, Slytherin 330.

“You know,” Ginny said sagely, flying to a stop beside Harry. “I almost feel sorry for him. He looks so pathetic.”

Harry looked at Malfoy. “No, he looks lonely.”

“Harry! Where was your mind today, mate?” Ron said as he flew up on the other side of Harry.

Harry looked down sheepishly, remembering the red thong. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione waiting for him on the edge of the Quidditch Pitch. She waved at him and smiled.

Ron followed his gaze and grinned. “It is a good thing our next match isn’t for a month. Maybe by then you will be over your puppy love stage,” he said, slapping Harry on the back.

**

Hermione was waiting outside the Gryffindor locker room for Harry, Ron and Ginny when Draco walked out of the Slytherin locker room, head down, a dejected look on his face.

Draco looked up and saw Hermione. Remembering her comment, “It means I don’t think much of you, Draco” from the day before, he continued past her without breaking stride.

“Draco?”

He turned around to see a completely unfamiliar expression on Hermione’s face; compassion.

“Congratulations on catching the Snitch. You did a,” Hermione cleared her throat a bit, as if choking on the words, “good job.”

Surprise etched on his face, he stared at her for a moment, wondering what in the world had come over her.

I must look really pathetic if Granger is trying to pep me up.

At that moment, Ron, Harry and Ginny exited the locker room, laughing and smiling. The smiles froze on Harry and Ginny’s face, and slid from Ron’s upon seeing Draco standing there. As if by instinct, a thousand insults popped into his mind that he could have said, but didn't. Instead he said, “Good game, Ginny. Ron. Congratulations,” and turned to walk up to the castle.

Ron stood there watching Malfoy go, a stunned expression on his face. “Did he just call me, Ron?”

“Sounded like it,” Ginny said, regarding Malfoy with a bit more respect that she had just a few days ago.

“I didn’t even realize he knew my first name,” Ron said sarcastically.

“Oh, come on Ron, he’s not…”

“Don’t even say, ‘he’s not that bad.’ I told you yesterday, yes he is.” Ron interrupted.

“Give him a break. He has to kiss Pansy Parkinson, after all. That would make anyone a surly git,” Ginny replied, beginning to walk to the castle.

“Well, no one is forcing him to do that. That’s his choice,” Ron said, following Ginny.

Harry and Hermione followed along at a slower pace, holding hands, letting the distance between them and Ron and Ginny lengthen.

“Great game today.”

“Ginny was great. I was horrible.”

“NO! You weren’t horrible,” Hermione disagreed, too vehemently.

Harry looked at her and grinned. “You don’t have to lie because you are my girlfriend. I know I played poorly.”

“Am I your girlfriend?”

“As far as I’m concerned you are. That is, unless you don’t want to be,” he added uncertainly.

Hermione wrapped her arm through his and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. “Of course I do. That should have been apparent in classroom eleven last night.”

“Blatantly apparent.”

“So what was wrong? Why did you play so poorly?”

”Hey! You said I played great!” Harry nudged her playfully in the ribs. “If you must know…” he hesitated, and upon reflection felt he might as well get it off his chest. “I was thinking about your red thong.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Really? You like that, do you?”

“I like it much better on you than me.”

“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “I can think of another thing or two you like,” she said suggestively.

“Oh really? Like what?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Oh I don’t know. Maybe I’ll show you tonight.”

“Show me?” Harry said puzzled. He saw a mischievous grin on Hermione’s face and comprehension dawned.

“But, I thought you said you didn’t…that you closed your eyes!” Harry said in disbelief.

Hermione leaned up and whispered to Harry, her warm breath tickling his ear, "I lied."

THE END!!!