Freaky Friday

NOTE: Well, nobody seems too keen to take on this little project. So I'm making a go at it. Wish me luck and I hope you enjoy! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you were all so nice and encouraging!

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Hermione was looking over Harry's shoulder in the Common Room reading his essay for their History of Magic class when he twisted around to look up at her and asked, “What are you doing Ron?” she jumped. Desperately, she tried to think of something to say in Ron-ish, “Homework sucks,” she said, thumping her fist into her open palm. Then she hurried from the room and headed for the Library.

Once there (after receiving a quizzical look from Madame Pince) she pulled stacks of books from the shelves and began poring through them…..

She hadn't been there for more than 15 minutes when Ron dashed into the Library with a disheveled look about him. This whole endeavor wasn't doing much for Hermione's self esteem…Ron seemed to always make her look much more horrible than she actually was…at least, she hoped. When he reached her usual table, breathing heavily, she glared up at him, “What is it Ronald?” A few students turned their heads, “Er - I mean, Hermione.”

Clutching a hand to a stitch in his side, Ron plopped himself down across from her, gulping like a fish out of water. Hermione waited, tapping her fingers agitatedly on the table. Finally, he gasped, “Quidditch!”

“What!?”

“Tonight…practice,” he breathed.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me…if you think…”

“Hermione, please!”

“No way. There's no way. I'll just tell them I'm sick.”

“But tomorrow…it's the match against Slytherin! If you don't go to practice tonight, I won't be eligible to play tomorrow!”

“Well, that's your problem then! If I don't figure this out tonight, you won't be playing at all!”

“Please, Hermione. I'll stay here and try doing a bit of research…you have to go!” The lines on his forehead crinkled in despair….she wondered if that was an expression she wore often. Sighing, she gave in, “Oh all right then…but I'm not going to kill myself over it!”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Ron said, jumping up from his seat, “I really appreciate this Hermione…I know how much you hate flying.”

Hermione was touched. Ron had never shown appreciation towards her before…but then again, this was Quidditch. “Oh honestly, how hard can it be?”

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“Um, Ron, that's my broom,” came Ginny's voice from behind her.

“Oh, right…I was just holding it for you,” Hermione said, thrusting the broom toward her, “And…mine would be…? Oh…here it is….yes, I see it now….those letters are so tiny…c-l-e-a-n-s-w-e-e-p….mmmhmm….this is definitely mine…got it.”

“Ron, are you alright?”

“Fine. Just can't stand being on the ground, you know…want to be up there flying as soon as possible! Yep!” She puffed out her chest and thumped it with her fist, hoping to look manly.

Ginny rolled her eyes and left the storage shed. Hermione wondered if she should fill her young, red-haired friend in on the situation…later, perhaps.

Okay now….let's see…first year. Madame Hooch. What was it she said…?

Hermione placed one leg over the broomstick, gave a funny little hop and shot like lighting into the air. Gripping the handle, she pulled as hard as she could…this only seemed to make it go higher. After completing a few lopsided barrel rolls, she managed to get the broom under control and swung it back around toward the Quidditch pitch, which seemed to be a long way off. She must have flown farther than she thought. Harry sat on his broomstick in the air staring at her. She smiled and waved, slipping sideways slightly as she drifted toward the goal hoops. When she had put some distance between herself and the others, she rubbed her hoarse throat (she must have been screaming) and cursed quietly to herself, “…Stupid broom…this has to be…the dumbest sport….I've ever heard of.”

After an hour of flopping helplessly about, chasing after the Quaffle to no avail, she heaved a sigh of relief when Angelina ended practice early, “Right then, you lot look horrible. I can't imagine another half hour helping much. Get some rest. Oh and Ron…Ron!”

“Oh - er - yeah, that's me.”

“Try not to look like such a git tomorrow, please.”

“Right, thanks.”

As she made her way up the lawn toward the castle, Harry trotted up and walked beside her, “Everything alright, Mate?”

“Um, yeah. I just have a lot on my mind, Harry.”

He snorted and said, “You? A lot on your mind, eh?”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, seizing the moment, “I'm usually such a big, stupid, ridiculously insensitive thickhead, aren't I!?”

Harry stopped, gripped her shoulder, and looked at her, “Ron…?”

“What?”

He shook his head and kept walking, “Maybe a game of Wizard's Chess might cheer you up then,” he said with a smile.

“Er - not tonight Harry. I think I should spend some time in the Library.” Harry looked at her for a second, eyebrows raised, then continued walking without saying a word.

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“What do you mean you don't know?”

“Uh, well…I just don't, alright!”

“Jeez Hermione, you don't have to get all snotty…it was just a question.”

“Well, how am I supposed to know the difference between an Abraxan and an Aethonan?”

“Because you're Hermione Granger, that's why!”

Ron gathered his books and made to leave, “Shove off!” As he walked briskly towards the exit, Pansy Parkinson came around the corner and sneered, “Look who it is, everyone,” she said to a group of Slytherin girls beside her, eyeing Ron, “Don't you shower anymore, Mudblood?” Ron continued walking but Pansy stuck her foot out just as he went by. He tripped over it, sending books and papers flying. Laughter echoed through the Library as he stood up, brushing off his robes. Casually, he stepped forward so that he was directly in front of Pansy, who was doubled over with spasms of giggles. When finally she looked up, “Yes?” he reached his arm back and brought it forward rapidly, punching her square on the nose. She flopped onto the floor, hand over her nose as she went. Her bum hit the cold stones with a satisfying smacking sound. Ron crossed his arms triumphantly, standing over her as little tears began forming in the corners of her eyes.

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“Detention!?” Hermione was pinning him to the wall outside of the Common Room.

“Big deal!”

“Ronald! You can't just go around punching people in my body!”

“She deserved it! She called me…well you actually, a Mudblood!”

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, “Ron, she always says that. But that doesn't mean you can just hit people whenever you feel like it!” They were both quite for a moment and she let go of his robes, letting him slump against the wall. Finally he asked, “Where's Harry?”

“He's in the Common Room. He wants me to play chess with him, but I said no.”

“You said no?”

“Ron, we're supposed to be figuring this thing out!”

“But you said you didn't want Harry worrying about us…and if you don't play, he'll think something's up!”

“You're right,” she said, biting her lip, “But won't he be suspicious if I keep losing?”

“Just tell him you're sick or something.”

“Okay…but you have to promise to keep researching!”

“Of course, I promise…”

“Right…okay then…wish me luck.” Ron gave her a thumbs-up as she disappeared back through the Portrait Hole.

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Harry was sitting solemnly staring at his hands, the chess board idle in front of him.

“Right then, ready to play?”

Harry looked up, surprised, “I thought you didn't want to play?”

“Oh you know me…when do I ever say no to kicking your bum at a game of chess?” Harry's eyes narrowed, “You're on, then!”

In her head, she thanked Merlin for the summer after their fourth year when she had been holed up with the Weasleys at Grimmauld Place. Between cleaning, they had passed the time playing endless hours of chess. She wasn't that bad…it was, after all, a game of logic. Between moves, she chewed her lip and scrunched her eyebrows together. Finally, Harry said, “Stop it.”

“Stop what,” she asked, not looking up from the board.

“Stop chewing your lip, it's driving me crazy!”

“It is?”

“It reminds me of Hermione!”

“Oh…she…she drives you nuts then?”

“In a way, I guess.”

“Oh,” she said, advancing her knight. After a few more moments of silence, Harry continued, “Well…not nuts, really…she's just…distracting, some of the time.”

“Distracting?”

“Well, you know, she's Hermione.”

“She's doesn't distract me.”

“She doesn't? Oh…you mean…you don't…”

“What?”

“Well, you don't think,” he paused, turning slightly red, “You don't think Hermione's pretty?”

“Er - well, sure. She's alright,” she tried to sound calm as her heart leapt within her chest.

“Yeah, she is.” There was more silence, during which Hermione captured two of Harry's pieces, demolishing them. He was obviously distracted. Then he chuckled lightly, “You were screaming like a girl earlier, at practice.”

“Oh was I?” Hermione laughed nervously.

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Later, Hermione ran to the Library and joined Ron at one of the small tables near the high windows. Rain was streaking down the glass, “Good,” she whispered, “Maybe they'll cancel Quidditch tomorrow.”

“Let's hope, because I can't seem to find anything about this in these books! We'll never change back.”

“Oh, don't be such a ninny. We'll find something.” For some reason, she couldn't stop smiling.

“Chess went alright then?”

“Um…chess…oh, yes, chess! It was great. Fine. It was fine.”

An hour later, Ron was slumped onto the table in front of him; asleep. His face was pressed between the pages of a think, dusty book. Hermione made a mental note to find a good cleansing charm before the night was through. If this problem was going to persist, she might as well make sure Ron was presentable in her body.

She sat back, stretching her arms above her head, and thought. After a few moments of inconclusive deliberation, she reached out and shook Ron's shoulder. Mumbling, he sat up, rubbing his eyes, “What?”

“What was it we were arguing about last night?”

“I don't remember,” he said, laying his head back down on top of his folded arms.

“Ron!” she demanded, slapping his arm lightly.

“Oh rats, Hermione! It was just something stupid!”

“What if it had something to do with our little situation?”

Ron sat up straighter and looked at her, “Maybe you're right.”

“Of course I'm right. I'm always right!”

“Well,” he said, scratching his thick, curly mane of hair, “You said something like `Ron, do your homework!' and I said `Hermione, shut your trap!' Yeah, that's about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I'm not sure, Hermione, I'm tired.”

“Well, think!”

“Alright, alright. Hmm, let's see…you said I should try harder in school or else I won't get anywhere after we leave Hogwarts. Something about how all I ever think about is Quidditch. `Quidditch this and Quidditch that,' you said. And I said, `Professor Trelawney was right third year when she said your mind was hopelessly mundane.'”

“Well, that doesn't seem to help at all…gah,” she blurted, stomping her feet, “It still makes me so angry when I think of Trelawney saying that. What a…ooog, I could just…”

“Hermione, chill out.”

“Right, sorry. Well, I guess we'll just have to read up on this some more tomorrow. We're obviously not going to get anywhere tonight.”

“Okay. G'night then,” he yawned, making his way out of the Library.

“Goodnight, Ron.”

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(((Sorry that this chapter isn't so exciting. Hope it's entertaining anyway! I'll try to keep updating!)))