You're Me?! by Ron Weasley
Summary: After a supposed potion mix-up, Ron and Hermione go through some life changing experiences. Will Ron be able to control his fascination with Hermione's body? Will Hermione be able to...you know...go? You'll have to read to find out.
Categories: Humor Fics Characters: None
Warnings: Book 7 Disregarded
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 10 Completed: Yes Word count: 11893 Read: 48978 Published: 01/15/05 Updated: 04/27/05

1. The Reason by Ron Weasley

2. Lurching Inside by Ron Weasley

3. A Rude Awakening by Ron Weasley

4. Realising by Ron Weasley

5. Lips and Hands by Ron Weasley

6. Finding Out by Ron Weasley

7. Girlish Feelings by Ron Weasley

8. Poured Emotions by Ron Weasley

9. One Dirty Little Secret by Ron Weasley

10. Did It, or Didn't It? by Ron Weasley

The Reason by Ron Weasley
The Reason


Hermione stomped up the stairs to her dormitory, her face reddened by pure anger. He doesn't understand, she thought. He doesn't get it! She threw open the door and slammed it shut with her foot. No one else resided in the room so she didn't feel the least bit out-of-line. As she tore off her clothes and scrambled into her pyjamas, she kept thinking about what had just happened. She couldn't believe he was as daft as a cow; it was very unlikely for her to even think about doing what he accused her of.

Tearing the coverlet off as she climbed into bed, Hermione retraced her memory back to the incident that took place just a few moments ago...

On a rare quiet evening, three best friends, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger sat around at a table in the Gryffindor common room, studiously scribbling notes for classes between books stacked high above their heads. Harry leaned over closely to his parchment; his nose barely touching it, muttering incoherent words under his breath. Ron incessantly scratched his head with his tongue stuck out, unsure whether he had written the right answer. Hermione had just finished up her assignments, and took out a spare piece of parchment and began writing a letter to Viktor Krum.

Even though she was deep in thought about her letter, a light wind wafting in from the spring sky interrupted her thoughts. It blew the papers on the floor left from the fifth years after a long night of studying for their O.W.L. exams. The fire had been long dead, and only its ashes were left behind. She returned back to her letter and continued scribbling across the parchment, filling it up quickly. A bustle behind a pile of books forced her to look up.

"Hermione," Ron began, "what does it mean when—" but seeing whom she was writing to stopped him immediately. "You're still talking to him?"

"Well, of course, Ron," she confirmed. "Why wouldn't I?"

"No reason," he said calmly, looking down at the loose scrap he was playing with. "I just didn't think you'd still communicate with him after..."

Harry gazed up at Ron, not realising his mouth slightly hung open.

"After what, Ronald?" she asked with a slight tartness to it.

"After that rumour that went around?" he mumbled.

"You mean that he kissed me? Two years ago?"

Hermione now had all her interest upon Ron, who couldn't come near eye contact with her.

"Well...yea."

"Ron, I've talked him even after that. You heard this rumour, what, last year? And I've told you nothing happened. So why are you still bothered by it? Can't I have a pen pal?"

"I doubt he's just a pen pal," he muttered.

"Pardon me?" she asked sharply.

"I said I-I doubt he's just a pen pal!" he shouted a little louder than he had hoped.

Hermione could feel her face turning pink, just as pink as Ron's face had already been.

"You know there's nothing between Viktor and me. NOTHING! Why do you still get bothered by this every time I write him a letter?"

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but closed it right away. He glimpsed down at Harry hoping his best friend could help him out. Unfortunately, Harry just sat there eyeing both of them before returning back to his own work. Thanks, Ron thought sarcastically. He finally made eye contact with Hermione, who was staring at him intently.

"Well?" she asked.

Feeling a bit of angst rising in him from every time she would always 'well' him, he shouted, "Don't 'well' me! You think I'm thick? I know there's something going on between you two! It's obvious! Harry's even mentioned it!"

Hermione flashed Harry a massive glare, who kept his face down to his paper wishing Ron hadn't added him to this row. She looked back over at Ron and retorted, "Ugh! You say you're not thick, but you sure are an idiot!"

She grabbed her books, and hustled across the common room to the girls' dormitories, leaving the two staring at a slammed wooden door. Harry looked over at Ron, who was redder than his own hair.

"What?" Ron asked gruffly.

Harry just shook his head, and returned to his work. Ron sat back down, running his fingers through his hair, resting his head against his hand, and continued his work as well...

Hermione lied on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling of her four-poster bed. Time seemed to pass slowly, but when she looked at her watch on her bedside table, she noticed two hours had already passed, and she knew she had to get some sleep.

Trying to shut out her mind, she closed her eyes thinking if Ron were her for a day he'd realise what goes on in her life, and he'd know her feelings towards certain people; some certain people she hoped he wouldn't find out even if he was her. She turned on to her side and soon felt herself drift off to a deep sleep, unaware of what was to become of her.
Lurching Inside by Ron Weasley
Ch. 2 Lurching Inside


Hermione woke abruptly as if she had been poked in the side. She had this unexplainable feeling in her stomach. It grumbled and ached. She didn't know how to relieve of it, so she got up and continued her morning. When she went down to breakfast, the weird feeling still lurched inside so she decided not to eat much. Harry and Ron sat across from her in silence. She wanted to say something to Harry, but she knew Ron would just retort it to start another row. Nevertheless, she'd rather not walk into a double Potions class in a miserable mood. Ron sent her distinct glares as she sat staring at the plate in front of her.

Potions class couldn't have gone any worse. Ron was so distracted by Hermione he didn't notice the amount of ingredients he poured into his cauldron. This wasn't good; not the fact that it was Potions, but it was Potions for his N.E.W.T. exams and Ron barely made the cut into the class in the first place. He continued to pour random ingredients until orange bubbles began to brew.

"Weasley, what is the meaning of this?" Snape asked, piercing his eyes at Ron as he glided towards him that caused Ron to slightly squeak. Snape peered into the cauldron and by the expression on his ghastly face he knew exactly what it was. "Weasley, do you know what this is?"

Ron examined the cauldron and, with a gulp, answered, "Er—hot pumpkin juice?"

The expression upon Snape's face hadn't changed and he added, "Taste it."

"What?" Ron screeched.

The entire class now had their eyes set on Ron as he looked around hoping someone would help him. He noticed Draco Malfoy choking himself and sticking out his tongue to represent Ron was to die from it. Ron's heart began to race as Snape handed him a flask, waiting for him to dip it in. Hermione glanced into the cauldron, trying to see if it resembled any concoction she read about. Ron slowly dipped the flask in and brought it up to his lips. A fast idea shot into his head and he blurted out, "Anyone feel like taking the first sip? It'd be bloody rude of me to not share it with you all."

"Drink it!" Snape shouted.

"All right, all right. Don't get your knickers in a twist," he mumbled under his breath.

Ron glanced over at Harry and then at Hermione who looked rather nervous. In one quick gulp he took in the entire potion in the flask. The expression upon his face left everyone in question. His eyes bulged and quickly went very narrow. He lowered the flask from his mouth and swallowed the contents. Everyone in the class expected him to keel over or sprout wings or something, but he just stood there with a grin crawling across his face.

"It tastes like candy," he said cheerfully. He turned to Snape and asked, "So what was it?"

"You'll find the side effects rather...twisting," Snape answered while staring at Hermione with a cheeky expression. "Ten points from Gryffindor," there was a small sound of groans coming from half the students. "Everyone fill up a flask and place it on my desk. You'll receive a grade for them tomorrow."

Harry and Hermione filled their flasks and departed from the dungeons. As much as Hermione was worried about Ron, she showed no sign of sympathy towards him.

Throughout the day and into the evening, Hermione's stomach pains grew. It was to the point where it was unbearable. At dinner, she noticed Ron didn't eat much as well. She wanted to ask why, but she wasn't about to break their silent treatment.

Straight after, she felt as if she was going to be sick and ran to the lavatory. Slamming the stall door, she leaned against the side and crouched down with her knees to her chin. Her stomach rumbled as she rested her head on her knees, breathing heavily as she closed her eyes.

After a few moments, Hermione opened her eyes, and felt well enough to make it up to bed. She walked back to Gryffindor Tower and straight up to the dormitories. Pulling on her pyjamas, she then crawled into bed and closed her eyes, hoping this pain would be gone by morning.

Shortly after, she fell asleep clenching on to the end of her over-blanket. As Lavender and Parvati entered the dormitories to sleep, they heard loud snores coming from Hermione's bed and noticed Hermione's mouth hanging open with bits of drool down her chin—just the way Ron looks when he's in a deep slumber.
A Rude Awakening by Ron Weasley
Ch. 3 A Rude Awakening


The next morning, Hermione strained to open her eyes. The sunlight poured in from the windows—much brighter than usual. Before sitting up, she stretched her arms out to her side and collapsed them to the sides of the bed. She didn’t want to get up yet. It was the weekend, why should she have to? As soon as her eyes adjusted to the light, she glanced around the room to see if anyone else was awake—but something was different. This didn’t look like her room. It looked so…boyish. Hermione immediately turned to the bed next to her to see who was asleep. She hoped to see Lavender, but to her horror, there slept her best friend. Harry? she thought. What’s he doing in the girls’ dormitories? She looked around at the other beds to find Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, and Seamus Finnegan sound asleep. Where’s Ron? Wait…if I’m in the boys’ dormitory that means… She looked down to see herself wearing white and maroon striped pyjamas—not her usual blue ones. She studied her hands and noticed there were much tougher—like a blokes, far from dainty. She glanced at her shoulders where her hair usually hung, but all that was there was air. She strained to see the colour of her—now—short hair. Ginger. Every aspect Hermione saw only led to one conclusion. I’m Ron, she thought as she whimpered.

“No,” she cried silently in a deep tone. “No, no, no. NO!”

“Ron, what’s the matter?” Harry asked, turning over from his side. “Did another lot of spiders attack you?” Hermione jolted her head towards Harry with the most shocking expression. Her wide eyes and her mouth dropped showed as if she had seen a ghost.

“Ron? What’s wrong?” Harry asked, now sitting up, because he was worried about his friend.

Hermione couldn’t speak. She knew if she did her voice would tremble and at the same time sound like Ron’s voice—because she was Ron!

“Ron? Ron, are you okay?” Harry continued to ask.

When words finally reached Hermione’s mouth she screeched, “Excuse me.”

Standing up straight, she charged out of the boys’ dormitories and down to the common room. Just before opening the door, she heard a familiar scream. It was her scream. Ron must be awake, she thought. Opening the door, a few younger students had their heads turned to the girls’ dormitory door. Shortly after the scream, the girls’ door flew open, slamming against the wall with a petrified Hermione standing in the doorway.

“HERMIONE, WHAT IS GOING ON?” Ron shouted in Hermione’s delicate voice, not taking a good look at whom he was yelling at.

Hermione eyed the students that stared nervously at them and answered, “What are you talking about, Hermione?”

“HERMIONE? I’m not bloody you! You’re—” Ron cut himself off as he eyed his body. “You’re bloody me! WHO ARE YOU?”

Hermione rushed over to Ron and cupped her hand over his mouth.

“Sh!” she hissed. “Lets go down to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. We can talk there.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who the bloody hell you are!”

“It’s me…Hermione,” she whispered. Ron stared terrified at her in disbelief. “Ron…it’s me. I swear. Lets go before someone stops us.” Hermione looked over at the students staring at them in confusion, and said aloud, “Sorry, we’re—uh—rehearsing a play.”

Hermione tugged at Ron, who looked down at his—Hermione's—body in disgust and ran out of the common room. Harry just walked out of the boys’ dormitories to see their backs exit past the portrait, and he wondered where they were off to.

When they reached the second floor, Ron grabbed Hermione’s shoulder and stopped her in her tracks and asked, “Hermione, what is going on?”

She turned around to stare into her own brown eyes. It was very awkward. She hesitated at first, but answered, “I…don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? I didn’t do this to myself!”

“Oh, and so you’re accusing me?”

“Well if the wand matches…”

“What?” Hermione asked, not knowing at all what he was talking about.

“I don’t know. It just sounded right in my head—your head. THIS HEAD!”

Hermione let out a large groan, and pulled Ron into the girls’ lavatory. As soon as they went inside, Ron knelt down on the floor and pleaded, “Merlin’s beard, please don’t keep me like this.”

“Oh, hush!” Hermione demanded as she pulled him up onto his feet. “You think I like the fact that I’m in your body?”

“It should be an honour…”

“Ron, shut up. Now we have to figure out what we’re going to do.”

“We’re not going out in public like this!” he shouted.

“We’re not in the nude, Ron,” Hermione informed, rolling her eyes. “We just look like each other.”

“That’s a bit blunt, Hermione. We don’t just look like each other, we are each other.”

As much as Hermione hated to admit it, Ron was right. She had no idea what to do. She looked over at Ron, who was smelling his hair—her hair and examining his new body.

“How the bloody hell am I supposed to…you know…go?”

“You sit, Ronald.”

“Sit?” he asked with a miffed expression.

“Yeah, you know the other thing you do in class besides sleep. The more important question is…how am I supposed to…go?”

Ron looked at her, his eyes widening, and persistently answered, “You’re not going to go.”

“Excuse me? What do you mean I’m ‘not going to go’? I have to go. Not now of course, but eventually.”

“Don’t eat.”

“You want me to starve your own body?” she asked him with a stunned expression.

“Yes.”

Hermione sighed as she walked over to the mirrors. “Ugh…how am I going to live through this?”

“You?” he asked. Hermione looked over to see him staring at himself in the mirror. “What the bloody hell are these?”

“Those are called breasts, Ron,” she answered as he looked menacingly at his upper region. “Things girls have. DON’T POKE THEM!”

Ron moved his hand away and looked over at Hermione. Her face was turning bright pink. She realised every little incident she felt embarrassed by would turn her face the slightest shade of red since she was now in Ron’s body.

“So what are we going to do? Tell Professor McGonagall?”

“No! That would lead us to a weekend in the infirmary, and Madam Pomfrey hounding us with questions every five seconds. No, we’re not telling anyone. We’ll just have to go about our day as if nothing is wrong.”

“And then?” Ron asked staring at himself in the mirror again.

“And then…”

“What are we going to do if we’re still like this tomorrow?” Ron asked slowly as he began to reach up by his newly found upper region.

Hermione slapped his hand and answered, “We’ll just have to figure out why we are like this. Now, can you please last one day without being fascinated by…yourself?” Ron looked up from his new body and nodded his head. Hermione watched her messy curls bounce, wishing she could have her own body back. “Okay, now lets go back up to Gryffindor Tower and get dressed.”

“Okay,” Ron agreed and began walking out of the lavatory. “Hey you know what?”

“What?” Hermione asked, searching down the corridor for passers-by.

“I can look at myself naked…” he said with the most devilish grin on his face.

Hermione punched him in the arm and remarked, “Don’t even think about it,” and continued down the corridor.

“Ah,” he sniggered. “Abuse.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled. Ron went silent and followed her up the Grand Staircase. She may have seemed calm on the outside, but on the inside she trembled about what he’d do as her. She suddenly felt her face turn pink again. What she didn’t know was Ron was worried about the exact same thing.
Realising by Ron Weasley
Ch. 4 Realising


They walked back into the common room to find Harry sitting patiently in front of the grate.

“Where have you two been?” Harry asked, standing abruptly.

“Oh,” Hermione began, clearing her throat, “ah—Hermione here just wanted to—er—show me something.”

Harry peered over at Ron—to him Hermione.

“Er—yea, Harry,” Ron butted in. “I had to show—er—Ron the most extraordinary book that I found in the library, but of course knowing me—which I do—I find every book fascinating.”

“Yes,” Hermione added,” but knowing me—Ron—I find anything that doesn’t explode, have speed, or no real meaning completely boring."

“But knowing I—Hermione—admit my know-it-all-ism does get annoying at times, and I’m truly sorry I’m such a bore.”

"Yes, Hermione, but you of all people should know that 'know-it-all-ism' isn't a word."

With a hint of sarcasm, Ron gasped, “Oh my gosh! I read in a book that the mind is the first thing to go! I must depart to my room where I shall weep until I realise it’s pointless.”

Ron dramatically gazed at Hermione, then Harry, and mockingly leapt to the girls’ dormitory door. When he disappeared behind the door, Hermione couldn't believe Ron just did that, and thought, Oh dear. That is not normal at all.

“What’s wrong with Hermione?” Harry asked with a perplexed expression.

“I’m sure I’d remember pushing hi—er down a flight of stairs so I have no idea,” Hermione said. “Lack of oxygen perhaps.”

Harry smirked, and he and Hermione went up to the boys’ dormitories. She hadn’t realised she was about to change in front of Harry and visa versa.

Opening Ron’s trunk, Hermione grabbed the first set of clothes and threw them on Ron’s bed. She sat down and twiddled her thumbs, watching Harry unbutton his pyjama shirt. Oh my, she thought. Hermione hadn’t seen a boy undress in front of her before, so to her it was an interesting experience.

Trying not to be obvious, Hermione often peered over at Harry as he undressed. She seemed to be unable to tear her eyes away from his medium sculpted body. He was still rather scrawny, but over the years he attained some build. Hermione felt her face turn red as Harry changed into his trousers. She took a deep breath and held her hand against the side of her face to stop her from staring.

“Ron, are you sure you’re all right?” Harry asked walking over as he buttoned his trousers.

Hermione peered past her hand, and quickly turned back around, and answered, “Never better, Harry.”

“Are you sure? You looked all flushed, and Hermione’s not even around.”

Hermione quickly looked over at him as if he insulted her and said, “Oh.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she’d rather not get into a conversation with Harry while he’s half dressed.

“So that potion tasted pretty good yesterday?” he asked, reaching for a shirt in his trunk.

Suddenly Hermione realized what changed them. The potion, she thought.

“It was the potion!” she exclaimed as she stood up and accidentally hugged Harry.

“O...kay,” Harry responded in shock.

Hermione remembered she was still in Ron’s body and immediately let go.

“Sorry. A little excited.”

“I guess…it’s no problem,” he assured, lowering his eyebrows.

They stood in silence for a few moments. To Hermione it wasn’t as awkward, but Harry was quite startled. The Ron he knew had never hugged him like that before. In fact, that particular hug felt familiar, like a hug he’d receive from Hermione.

“Well,” Hermione began putting Ron’s socks on first, “I suppose I’ll meet you in the Great Hall later. R—er—Hermione and I have a few things to do.”

“I thought you weren’t speaking to her?” Harry asked, putting on his shoes.

“I’m not. We just…really have to get something done—Prefect duties.”

“Oh okay. I’ll see you later then, mate.”

“Bye.”

Harry left the dormitory and Hermione rushed to change her shirt. She stared up at the ceiling while changing her trousers, but she couldn’t help being curious. Now and then she looked down at her body. Not bad, she thought. Horror struck her face when she realised that possibilities Ron could be doing. As much as she tried not to think about it, images kept forming. She forced herself to think about something else and finished getting dressed.

Practically tripping down the stone steps of the boys’ dormitories, Hermione rushed down to the common room. Ron wasn’t there. She figured he’d be down in a moment, so she sat down and waited.

Time passed, and she sat with her head on her hand, squishing her face and watching the students leave for their trip to Hogsmeade. So much for the last trip to Hogsmeade, she thought. Ron is such a git. Why couldn’t he just keep his mind on his work? She looked down at her watch and saw it was almost lunch.

“Come on, Ron,” she whispered to herself. Just then she heard footsteps on the other side of the girls’ dormitory door.

The door opened and out came two fourth years sniggering about something. She eyed as they walked by. One gazed back at Hermione and sniggered as they made eye contact. Hermione looked at them in disgust and thought, Gross, someone actually fancies Ron. Then she thought about that a second time. Hold on…someone actually fancies him? She quickly turned around at the girl who sniggered at her and saw the girl staring back at her as the Fat Lady’s portrait closed.

“Bugger,” she mumbled.

“Who?” Ron asked. Hermione swung around to see Ron dressed in the most horrific outfit.

“What took you so long?” she asked, annoyed.

“I couldn’t…” he began.

“You couldn’t…what?”

“I couldn’t figure out what to wear.”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Come on. I think I know how we ended up like this. We have to go to the library.”

“Quiet! Not so loud. I don’t need people thinking my sanctuary is that place too.”

“Lets go. I think it has to do with that potion you made.”

Hermione pulled on Ron’s sleeve and rushed out of the common room. As they left Gryffindor Tower, Ron gritted, “It was not my fault…”
Lips and Hands by Ron Weasley
Ch. 5 Lips and Hands


Ron and Hermione resided in the library hovering over an old decrepit book. Ron looked rather nervous. Hermione sat with her nose in the book, searching up a specific draft.

“Where is it?” she mumbled to herself.

“Hermione?” Ron asked. “Could you—er—not seem like you’re really into this?”

“Could you actually show you know how to dress?” she asked tartly, not looking up.

“It was interesting enough to dress your body. I don’t need to worry about what I’m actually putting on. You didn’t…look at yourself when you dressed, did you?” Hermione didn’t answer. A grin seemed to sprawl across her face. “Hermione?” She turned to see herself with a very serious expression. No matter how many times she sees herself, it’s still just as unusual as the first.

“Is that what I really look like when I’m being demanding?”

“Hermione!” he hissed loudly.

A few students turned their heads and she quickly answered, “Yeah, that’s your name.”

His grave expression morphed to worry, and she rolled her eyes and answered, “No, Ron, I didn’t.” A sharp idea crossed her mind, and she added, “I was too busy watching Harry dress.”

“WHAT?” Ron shouted.

Madam Pince, the librarian, appeared from around the corner and hissed, “Be quiet!”

Ron glanced over at her and shifted back at Hermione. He moved a little closer and whispered, “Did you really?”

Seeing Ron act this nervous always pleased her, but to save him from any more worry, she answered, “No, I didn’t.”

For a few moments, their eyes seemed to lock in place, but reality caught up with them, and they both pulled back. Hermione bit her lip, peering down at the book and turned the page. Ron noticed a few people staring at them and moved closer to read along.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked.

“You don’t want to lose your reputation as a bookworm, do you?”

She wasn’t sure whether to take that as an insult or compliment, but she smiled either way. Glancing back down at the book, she found the draft she was searching for.

“Here it is!” she whispered excitedly. Ron looked around to make sure no one had heard that.

“What is it?” he asked, fidgeting in his sit.

Hermione read over the contents of the potion, and when she was finished, she sat back and took a deep breath.

“So what does that mean?” Ron asked quietly.

“It means this didn’t switch us,” Hermione sighed. “Your potion had no chemical reaction. That's why Snape had you taste it. He knew nothing would happen to you.”

“I told you I didn’t do it,” he muttered, hiding his hands underneath the table.

Hermione turned, and oddly eyed her body. She watched Ron fidget in his seat, unaware of the other students walking by her.

“What are you doing?” she asked with a disgust expression.

“Nothing…” he answered, freezing instantly.

Hermione looked around to make sure no one was close by, and scooted closer to him.

“Okay, Ron, remember when I asked if you were able to control your unexplainable fascination with my body?” Ron shifted his eyes to the sides, and nodded, “Could you possibly do me one slight favour?”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t—put—your—hands—under—the—table.”

“Hermione!” Ron shouted, and had been interrupted by Madam Pince and Hermione hissing at him. Lowering his voice, he added, “I wouldn’t do that. Especially to you.”

“Oh really? How do you know what I was thinking? Perhaps because you were thinking it?” After finishing her sentence, she realised she’d rather not know what he was thinking. A long silence filled the air until Hermione slammed shut the book. “Maybe we should go down to the Great Hall for lunch.”

They both stood up, leaving the library with Madam Pince immediately rushing to the table they sat at and scurrying off to put the book away.

While walking down the Grand Staircase, two familiar fourth years climbed up the stairs passed them, and the same girl as before peered over at Hermione, who gave the girl a displeased frown. She didn’t intend to bring it up, but as they reached the Great Hall doors, Hermione blurted, “Do you know the fourth year that looked at me?” Ron gazed down at the floor without responding. Noticing the silence, she turned around and annoyingly asked, “You do, don’t you?”

“No!” he shouted. To their advantage, only a few students resided in the room. “Well…a little. She introduced me to herself.” Ron stood staring at his crossed-looking self. “Her name’s Sophie Crichlow.”

Almost losing her words, Hermione stuttered, “O-oh.” Ron gazed in thought at his body, and noticed it twitch a bit.

They sat down at the deserted table, silently eating their plate of food. Suddenly, Hermione’s eyes grew wide, and the fright of just eating something poisoned shown on her face.

“Wawong?” Ron asked as he continued shoving food into his mouth.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. And…I’ve got to do something.”

“Then do it,” he echoed inside his goblet as he took a sip.

“No, I don’t think you understand. I have to go…”

Choking, Ron practically dropped his goblet, and exclaimed, “What?” Hermione bit her lower lip and looked around. “Don’t bite your lip! That’s such a girl’s thing to do!”

“I’m sorry, okay? It’s a habit I do when I’m nervous. HANDS!”

Ron pulled his hands up from under the table, and sneered, “I’m just wiping my hands.”

“Then use a napkin. That’s why they’re placed next to you.”

Ron childishly grabbed a napkin and frustratingly wiped his hands.

“So what are you going to do?” he asked, expecting to hear what he wanted her to say.

“I’m not doing anything. I have an idea, but we have to hurry, because people will be back from Hogsmeade soon.”

***

Ron and Hermione stood in the empty lavatory on the second floor. Hermione held out a pair of dragon-hide gloves in front of a disapproved Ron.

“Oh no! I don’t think so!” Ron screeched.

“Come on, Ron! It’s your body! Would you rather have me do it?”

Horror struck Ron’s face, and he jumped, “Get in there!”

A little Hermione shoved a tall Ron into the door of the toilet cubicle, and squished inside. They stood a few moments only to hear each other breathing.

“Do you—” Hermione asked, but had been shortly cut off by Ron’s words.

“Trousers down, and look up,” he demanded in common Hermione manner.

Hermione immediately turned her head up to the ceiling and tried concentrating on a specific subject. As she did, she felt Ron help her aim into the toilet, and sickeningly said, “Okay—uh—go.”

She instantly began feeling a great relief as Ron ordered, “We are never telling Harry about this!”

“No, Ron, I thought he’d enjoy this lovely sentiment about you helping me in the loo.”

“Watch your hands!”

Hermione, not noticing her hands were moving close to his, pulled them back and continued looking up. Unfortunately, they hadn’t heard a door opening and closing over the sounds of their conversation, but they did hear a familiar voice.

“Hermione? Ron?” Harry called out. The two froze in place and stayed perfectly still. “Ron, I just heard you two talking. I know you’re in here.”

Hermione looked over at Ron nervousl and bit her lower lip.

“Lip!” Ron hissed in a whisper.

“What are you two doing in there?” Harry asked right outside their cubicle door.

“Um…” Ron began, “just showing Ron another one of my fascinating discoveries.”

“Well let’s see.”

“No, mate, you don’t want to see this,” Ron assured, looking down at what he was holding.

“You two are always hiding things from me. Alohomora!”

“Harry, no!” Hermione shouted.

But it was too late. Ron and Hermione couldn’t move anywhere, and the door swung open with Harry standing with a smile that quickly diminished into a horrid shock. Hermione looked at Harry, down in front of her, and then at Ron and snarled, “Hands!”
Finding Out by Ron Weasley
Ch. 6 Finding Out


Neither of them could move. Harry stood moving his jaw, trying to speak. Ron began walking over to him, and said, “Harry—” but was interrupted by Harry shouting, “Keep those gloves away from me! What were you two doing?”

Hermione looked nervously over at Ron, who was pulling off the gloves and motioning his hands to the toilet, saying, “I was helping her…go.”

Harry was in a state to not notice Ron saying “her” and quickly added, “Sorry! Your business is your business!” He began to leave, but Ron and Hermione pulled him back.

“No, Harry!” Hermione inferred. “It’s not what you think!”

“What’s to think?” he asked. “Hermione just told me what you were doing. I’m not really sure why you need help in the first place, but it obviously has something to do with your relationship.” He turned to who he thought was Hermione, saying, “You were right, Hermione. I didn’t want to see it.” Hermione bit her lower lip, but immediately loosened her grip as her and Ron exchanged anxious glances. “I have to go.”

“Well have at it,” said Ron, avoiding any long direct eye contact with Harry. "There's seven other cubicles."

“Not that kind of go.”

Harry started to leave again, but he felt a petite hand grab his shoulder.

“No, mate,” Ron began, “you’re staying here.”

“We have to tell you something, Harry,” Hermione informed.

“I already know.”

“You do?” the two asked in unison.

“Yeah, I should’ve known. It’s—now—completely obvious. I mean Parvati and Lavender mentioned it, but I didn’t think it was true.”

Hermione sent Harry one of Ron’s perplexed facial expressions, and stated, “Harry, I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”

“This incident tells me otherwise, but you two aren’t…together?”

Hermione moved closer to Harry, and snorted, “Oh, my gosh, Harry, no! No, no. You’ve got to be joking!”

Ron jerked his head towards Hermione with an irritated look as Harry took a step backwards and asked, “Ron, could you keep your distance for awhile, mate? It was odd enough having you hug me up in the dormitory…and now this.” Ron now glared his eyes at Hermione, who began biting her lower lip. “You’re acting so different lately, and besides, I thought you fancy—”

“We’re not who you think!” Ron intervened extremely pink the face.

“What are you talking about, Hermione?”

“See,” Hermione sighed, “that’s the thing. That’s not Hermione.”

Harry eyed Ron up and down and said, “She sure looks like Hermione.”

“I, for one, am not a ‘she’!” Ron insisted.

“Sounds like her, too.”

“Bloody hell, you’re right. I’m turning into you!” Ron exclaimed at Hermione with a dramatically sorrow expression.

“Oh, stop it,” Hermione demanded, turning back to Harry. “As you can hopefully tell, that is not me, Harry,” Hermione assured. “That’s Ron.”

Ron nodded his head incessantly. Playing along, Harry joked, “And…so you’re…”

“Hermione.”

“Right, sure. You guys don’t have to cover up to facts—”

“You remember the time we were up in the dorms, and you had a little too much Butterbeer?” Ron asked quickly. “And you ended up running around with your pants on your head?” Harry turned to Ron with his eyes protruding from his head. “You ran around shouting, ‘I am Sir Harry, Keeper of Pants and Tiny Knickers’.”

Hermione did her best to hide her sniggers, and contained herself by saying, “So…Sir Harry…do you believe us now?”

He wasn’t sure what to think. Was this a practical joke Ron and Hermione were playing on him? If it was, how could Ron tell Hermione that embarrassing moment from their adolescent past? And if Ron really was Hermione, why the bloody hell did he just mention that in front of her? Harry continued to stare at Hermione, who bit her lower lip to hide her smiles. She expected Ron to start another row with her on how it’s important to keep your bottom lip your entire life—but he didn’t. He just stood silently. Hermione brought her attention back to Harry, and again asked, “So do you believe us?”

“I…” he began, looking back and forth at the two, “Yeah, I do.”

With an eccentric sigh Hermione exclaimed, “Thank goodness! It was so hard trying to keep this from you—”

“You mean you weren’t going to tell me?”

“We wanted to, but we knew you wouldn’t believe us! And by the way this began, I proved myself right.”

“Another magnificent theory proven right by Hermione Granger,” Ron mumbled.

Hermione glanced over at Ron and noticed he seemed more interested with the floor.

“Are you okay?”

He hadn’t realised the question was directed towards him until a few moments later.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he finally answered.

Hermione wasn’t convinced. Something bothered him, and she wanted to know what.

“You know what?” Harry asked, directing the question towards Ron.

“What?” Ron replied.

“Since Hermione saw me dressing this morning, don’t you think it’s only fair to see her?”

A light lit on in Ron’s head, and he answered, “You know, you’re right.”

Harry and Ron began to leave the lavatory as Hermione shouted, “What? I don’t think so! Ron, don’t you dare!”

The two amused boys and one anxious girl left the lavatory, not knowing who they were bound to walk in to.
Girlish Feelings by Ron Weasley
Ch. 7 Girlish Feelings


Harry and Ron left the lavatory in sniggers, looking back at Hermione who was not enjoying the humour at all. Hermione gazed passed the jesters, and noticed they were about to collide with a passer-by. Before she could say a word, the two crashed into a blond haired, grey eyed Slytherin. Ron fell sideways into the Slytherin as Harry stumbled backwards, but caught himself.

“Watch where you’re walking, Granger!” Draco Malfoy spat, shoving Ron off of him, and wiping the air off his robes. “Great, I’ve got unsanitary mudblood germs on me.”

Malfoy’s two right-hand chimps, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, howled with laughter. Pansy Parkinson scowled at the sight of Ron looking back at her. Hermione scampered to help him up off the floor as Malfoy added, “It’s going to take a week of cleaning until it’s fully sterilised.”

“Why don’t you shove off, Malfoy!” Ron exclaimed, pushing Hermione off of him.

“Or what, Granger? You going to take House Points away from me? Or snitch to Dumbledore?”

Ron’s face glowed scarlet red. He knew he couldn’t pin Malfoy down while being in Hermione’s body so he did his best to restrain every bone from moving. Harry clenched the end of his wand, waiting for the moment where Ron would lose it. He didn’t notice a peevish Hermione standing slightly behind him who kept muttering comments under her breath.

“What’s the matter, mudblood?” Malfoy asked. “Don’t have a clever comment? Did your mind finally wither away? See, you were only good for one thing, and now your friends can’t even finish using you for it.”

Harry knew Ron wouldn’t stand for that, and quickly began pulling on his robes at the sight of a flinch. However, to both their surprise, Hermione charged between them, and walked straight up to Malfoy until she was only a few centimetres from his face.

“What do you want, Weasel-bee?” Malfoy sneered. “Come to smell the sweet aroma of wealth?”

It was against every right in her mind to attack him, but she knew he absolutely deserved it. However, her little conscious in the back of her mind did not persuade her to sink down to the arrogant ferret’s level.

“Oh, is that what that smell was?” Hermione sourly asked. “I mistaken it for the rancid stench you carried around since Potions on Wednesday.”

Two large grins grew across Harry and Ron’s face as Malfoy sneered in their direction.

“No, that’s Granger’s natural body odour,” he remarked, and began walking away with his dim-witted mates behind him.

“Nice comeback, Malfoy!” Ron shouted down the corridor. Hermione sent him a glare, and he added, “I was being sarcastic.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, and they set off to Gryffindor Tower.

“So, how long have you two been like this?” Harry asked.

“So far, a day,” Hermione answered.

“What do you mean by ‘so far’?” Ron asked quickly. “We’re staying like this for another day?”

“I don’t know, Ron, but we might as well expect the worse.”

“You’re starting to sound like me,” Ron said in disgust.

“Yeah, you’re right…we have to figure this out!”

The afternoon descended, and evening was right behind it. The three were sprawled across the Gryffindor common room, thinking of what they could do. Hermione sat lifeless, staring in to the fire. It seemed as if she was debating whether to throw herself in to it to save the trouble of staying in Ron’s body. Though, she couldn’t deny the advantages of being inside his body. Harry slouched in a wooden chair with his arms crossed, and looking down at a dust bunny making its way across the grimy floor. Ron lied upside down on the couch with his feet hanging over the back, and his head dangled above the floor. His face was very pink from lying this way for so long. Hermione glanced over at him and rolled her eyes, saying, “Ron, could you not sit like that? Having all the blood rush to your head can mess with your brain.”

“Why? This is how I think,” he stated.

“I rest my case.” Ron glowered over at her, and then resumed his abnormal meditation. Hermione shook her head, and continued to stare at the crackling fire.

“This is so boring…” Harry groaned. “Why can’t we go outside?”

“Because Hermione wouldn’t allow it,” Ron answered with his eyes closed and arms crossed.

“I am not letting him walk around in my body,” Hermione sharply stated.

“See.”

The three continued to sit quietly as students walked in and out of the common room until Ron spoke again.

“My stomach hurts,” he announced. “But it’s not really my stomach.”

“That makes sense, Ron,” Harry said sarcastically.

“No, it feels like…below my stomach. Never felt it before.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide, and immediately asked, “Does it feel like someone’s poking you way too far in to your skin?”

“Uh…sure.”

Hermione began to count on her fingers, and let out a groan.

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked.

“Ron’s going through what every girl goes through each month.”

“You mean…”

“Yeah.”

Ron turned upright and faced Hermione with a worried look, and asked, “Well, what do I do?”

“Go up to my dormitory, and inside my trunk there should be a small plastic bag. Bring that down, and we’ll go to the Prefects’ Bathroom.”

Ron nodded in agreement, and ran upstairs. Harry and Hermione exchanged anxious glances, and waited for Ron’s return. A few minutes and a few Gryffindors passing through later, Ron came charging out of the girls’ dormitories with the exact bag Hermione described.

“You…have way too much bloody stuff in your trunk. Bloody hell, my stomach hurts. No wonder you’re moody all the time!” Ron huffed, handing the bag to Hermione. Hermione rolled her eyes, harshly grabbing the bag, and checked its contents inside.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said, and turned around in a bustle. Ron stared at his body in disgust, and mumbled to Harry,

“She…doesn’t make me look like a total poof, does she?”

Harry contained a smile across his face until he looked over at Ron, and answered, “No, ‘course not.”

***

The Prefects Bathroom always sparkled squeaky clean. Not a speck of dirt or dust was in the room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione resided on the west side of the room near the private toilet cubicle door.

“All right, now, Ron,” Hermione began, digging through the small bag. “You have two options. This….and this.”

She first held up a small, thick plastic package of some sort. The next thing she held up was a small thin, narrow, white tube. Ron looked cross-eyed at the small tube that Hermione held up in front of him.

“Is that a needle?” asked Ron, pointing to the narrow one.

Hermione sniggered, “No, actually this…how do I put it…this goes…”

“Up your fanny,” Harry finished.

“WHAT?” Ron blurted.

“Yes—” Hermione concurred, but stopped short when realising who had said that. She and Ron gaped at Harry until he spoke again.

“What?” he asked.

“Never mind,” she said, bringing her attention back to the narrow tube. “This goes…up your fanny.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Ron squeaked.

Hermione shook her head, and added, “And this doesn’t go ‘in’ anything. It just…outlines your…my knickers.” She held each choice in her hands, and without hesitation he grabbed the thick plastic package and stormed in to the cubicle.

A few minutes passed, and it was a bit quiet in the room, a little too quiet.

“You still alive in there, mate?” Harry asked, leaning towards the door. “You didn’t fall in or nothing?”

“Shut up!” shouted Ron’s voice through the wooden door.

Hermione sniggered at Harry as he glanced over at her. To Harry, it seemed really odd having Ron giggle at him even if it wasn’t actually Ron. He shook his head, and him and Hermione heard Ron state, “You know, Hermione, we’re spending a lot of time in the loos.”
Poured Emotions by Ron Weasley
Ch. 8 Poured Emotions

“It took you long enough in there,” Hermione mumbled as she walked through the Great Hall doors.

“Give it a rest,” Ron gritted through his teeth. His stomach grumbled, and he added, “Why do you starve yourself so much?”

“I don’t—”

“Hermione, over here!” Ginny exclaimed as they walked up to the Gryffindor table. Ron sent her an awkward glance and sat down next to her. Hermione began to sit down when Ginny blurted, “Excuse you, I did I call your name? Go sit somewhere else. Hermione and I have to talk.”

“But I want to sit here,” Hermione retorted.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, Ron! There’s food all up and down this table. Harry, can you please take him some place else?”

Harry looked over at Hermione and stuttered, “Uh—sure. Come on—Ron.”

Harry tugged on Hermione’s arm and they sat down a few seats from Ron and Ginny. The commotion of the room drowned out the conversation Ginny was having with Ron—or to her knowledge, Hermione. As they ate their feast, Hermione kept a close watch on Ron’s facial expressions, hoping Ginny wouldn’t say anything revealing about herself. Without noticing, Hermione kept leaning closer and closer to Neville in hope to hear their conversation.

“What are you doing?” Neville asked in a polite tone. Hermione stared at him with her mouth slightly open, and responded,

“Just—reaching for the pumpkin juice.”

Hermione poured herself some juice and continually glanced at Ron and Ginny.

As the meal came to an end, the sounds began to dim, and Hermione was able to hear the last bit of their conversation.

“Here,” Ginny said, handing Ron a letter. “This was dropped off this morning.”

Ron’s eyes grew wide, and he responded, “From Krum?”

Ginny sniggered. “Well who else would it be from?”

“Um, thanks.”

“I have to go. I’m meeting Dean in the library.”

“Why Dean?”

“You know why…” Ginny smiled as she stood up and left.

Harry and Hermione scooted over to Ron as he growled, “Dean…”

“Can I have that?” Hermione asked immediately, not caring about Ginny or Dean.

“No,” said Ron, standing up and leaving the Great Hall. Hermione rushed over to him and attempted to grab it out of his hand.

“It’s not yours!” she shouted. Harry followed close behind, careful not to intervene between them. The repetition of “Give it here” and “No” carried on between them until they reached the common room.

“I’m not going to ask you again!” she screamed as the three walked into the crowded common room. No one looked up from their business; everyone was used to them bickering all the time now, they didn’t pay any attention.

“Then don’t ask!” Does it say your name on it?” Ron asked, waving it in Hermione face. Her temperamental expression only increased her scowling mood.

“YOU ARE SO IRRITATING!” she bellowed and stomped through the girls’ dormitory door. Harry and Ron stood in a stare as she took the first three steps up the stairs. As the steps shifted into a slide, Hermione forgot she was still in Ron’s body and tripped backwards down to the common room. “UGH!” she groaned and walked across the common room to the boys’ dormitory door, slamming it shut. No one still looked up from their work. Harry and Ron both looked at each other and back at the door until Ron uttered,

“Well, see you later, mate.”

“Where are you off to?” Harry asked, watching Ron walk to the girls’ dormitory door.

“To read my letter, of course,” Ron responded with a grin.

Walking up to Ron, Harry whispered, “I don’t think you should actually read that.”

“Oh? Why not? Would you not take the opportunity to read something someone had written to the person you fancy, who indeed fancies that someone?”

A little confused by the statement Ron just said, Harry asked, “Would you really invade Hermione’s privacy like that?”

Ron took a quick pause and stared up at the corner of the ceiling. “Yes.” He ripped open the letter and began reading it to himself. Harry watched Ron’s—Hermione’s eyes move back and forth as Ron read the letter. When he was finished, he lowered the parchment and took a deep sigh.

“I think you being in Hermione’s body is affecting your brain to function like hers,” Harry stated. “What’d it say?”

Ron stared down at the floor and handed the letter to Harry. He read:

Dear Hermione,

So glad to hear you are doing great. It seems like you always have so much happening in your life, it makes me find mine is dull and boring!


"Oh brother..." Ron groaned, rolling his eyes.

Quidditch is going fine. We are currently in Ireland. The new Keeper I told you about is still a bit clumsy, but he is getting better. We have only won a few matches, but it is more of the exhilaration of the game rather than winning that excites me.

To answer your questions, if you really like your friend, you should just tell him. You said you have been hiding it for four years now? Why is it so hard? I know you will just tell me, ‘since I am not a girl, I would not understand’. I know, but for the record, I think he likes you too.

I will be in Spain next week and Denmark the next, so I am not sure if I will be responding to your next letter so soon. But it is great hearing from you and hearing all the things you have been up to. Talk to you again soon.

Viktor


Harry looked up from the letter to see Ron in deep thought. Did Ron think Hermione’s ‘friend’ was himself? Hopefully, Krum wasn’t talking about Harry himself. He was most certain it was Ron.

“So…” Harry began.

Ron looked over at Harry confusedly. “So, what?” he asked.

“Who do you think her ‘friend’ is?”

“I-I don’t want to know,” Ron stuttered, walking through the door to the girls’ dormitory.

Harry smiled and yelled up at him, “You know you do, and you know it’s you!”

***

Hermione sat up in Ron’s bed, scribbling down notes from the day’s events. The opening of the dormitory door caused Hermione to draw a line across her parchment, and she took in a deep sigh when she realised it was Harry. Hermione had all sorts of questions to ask him about whether Ron read the note, but due to her stubbornness, she kept quiet.

Harry didn’t speak a word to her either. He knew—even in someone else’s body—Hermione wanted to be left alone. He just grabbed something from his trunk and left the room. Hermione sighed again and continued writing.

***

The evening was perfect. After a delicious meal, we spent the evening cuddled on the couch in front of the roaring fire—the Room of Requirement was definitely the best place to create the ideal setting of a date. One second, we were in deep conversation about each other’s lives, and what they were like before we met, next second, we’re wrapped in the other’s arms and connected by a long, passionate kiss, my fingers running through his ginger-red hair.

Everything seemed to be moving so fast, before either of us knew it we were enveloped in a blanket of hot steam. I was so entranced by his body figure it was almost unbearable to take. Last thing we knew, we were on the couch and soon everything around us seemed pointless. Everything around us had no significant meaning and shortly disappeared, and before we knew it, we rolled off the couch and landed hard on the floor. Throughout the night, we continued expressing our love, staring deeply into each other’s eyes…




A/N: I’m sorry for the long wait, but my life has been uber-hectic. Sorry if this chapter doesn’t suit your standards. There is a reason for this ending, I promise. A guy friend has helped me out on this idea, so hopefully you can guess what is to happen.
One Dirty Little Secret by Ron Weasley
Ch. 9 One Dirty Little Secret

Though Hermione had fallen to sleep disgruntled, she seemed to have woken up in quite a cheerful mood. Not taking notice to the outside atmosphere, she stretched her arms and rubbed her weary eyes. She had almost forgotten she was in Ron’s body and looked around the room to see Harry sleeping in the bed next to her. She wondered why Harry was still asleep, but then she glanced out the window, realising it was still dark—the air was still, the only sound heard was faint howling in the distance. Hermione collapsed backwards and groaned. Why was she so awake and rested when it was still the middle of the night?

Shifting around in her bed, she felt a warm, sticky sensation under her sheets. Hermione immediately lifted up her covers to find the feeling was insider her—Ron’s pyjama bottoms! She knew exactly what it was and shrieked. The echo of rustling in beds caused Hermione’s heart to jump. Looking around, making sure everyone’s eyes were still closed tight, she climbed out of bed and quietly changed into different pants and pyjama bottoms.

“Oh, so…gross!” she hissed in disgust as she threw the stained clothes onto the bed. A loud creak in the floor from Hermione moving around startled Harry, and his eyes focused straight at her.

“Is that you, Ron?” he asked.

Hermione turned around, and answered, “No, it’s Hermione. Just doing some cleaning. Go back to sleep, Harry.”

“What are you cleaning now for?” Harry asked, sitting up and putting on his glasses.

“Nothing, just forget it—I can’t sleep. I’m working on some spells.”

“You know, Ron will murder you if you don’t let his body get enough sleep.”

“I’m quite aware, thank you.” She turned back around and pulled out her wand. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “Scour—”

“What is it you’re practicing on?” Harry asked, interrupting her incantation.

She turned sharply around, and sent him a nasty glare. It amused Harry to see Hermione so cheesed off, but at times it could get a little scary—but not this time. Harry smiled back, and leaned to his side to look passed her, curious of what she could be hiding.

“Excuse you?” Hermione asked, placing her hands on her hips.

“Effeminising Ron way too much, Hermione,” Harry joked. “But seriously, what are you doing?” He stood up and tried walking passed her, but he found Hermione was a bit stronger in Ron’s body. “What are you—”

“Harry, just forget it!” she shouted and a loud snort came from Neville’s bed. The snort distracted Hermione to look to her right, and Harry peeked around her shoulder to see Hermione’s dirty little secret. Noticing Harry’s short stare and dropped jaw, Hermione shielded his eyes with her hand, pointed her wand behind her, and shouted, “Scourgify!”

Hermione removed her hand from Harry’s face, which had the cheekiest grin sprawled across it.

“Don’t look at me like that!” demanded Hermione. Harry didn’t speak. He knew what was going on—it’s not like he’s stupid or anything.

Hermione stood with a perturbed expression on her face, and the only thing Harry could say was, “So who’d you dream about?”

“HARRY!” she gritted through her teeth, striking him in the arm. “That is not a suitable conversation for you and me to be having.” She turned around and began folding up the clothes.

“Sorry—I forget you’re not Ron at times…was it Ron? Ron’s dreamt about you.”

“HARRY!” she hissed as she turned around, but this time she felt a smile was across her face as well. Holding back a couple sniggers, she said, “Stop it—right now.”

“All right…” Harry crawled back into bed, and took off his glasses. "It's him though, isn't it?" Hermione sent him a what-do-you-think kind of look confirming his theory correct.

As Hermione placed the clothes in Ron’s trunk, she said, “Harry, don’t say anything to Ron, please.”

“No worries, Hermione.” Harry smiled. “I’ll keep your dirty little secret about having a wet dream about Ron safe.”

“Oh, shut up.” She crawled back into bed, took in a deep sigh, and glanced over at Harry, watching him settle himself back into a slumber, before she turned off the light. She was so relieved her best friend had supported her and Ron since the time he found out about them. Though it was only a day, it seemed endless, and she was very grateful. Turning off the light, she pulled the covers up to her chin and fell immediately asleep.

A massive snort echoed throughout the boys’ dormitory, stirring Harry from his restless sleep. Sitting up abruptly, he glanced around the blurred room to see who could’ve made such a loud sound. He put on his glasses once more, and looked over at Ron’s bed. Ron’s body was on its stomach, stretched out across the entire bed. Bits of drool slobbered onto the pillow, and heavy breathing inhaled and exhaled from the nose. Harry just shook his head, and thought, Hermione is acting way too much like Ron. With that, he took off his glasses once more, and tucked himself back to sleep.


A/N: Yes, short, but I thought this part deserves its own chapter.
Did It, or Didn't It? by Ron Weasley
Ch. 10 Did It, or Didn’t It?

It seemed Hermione had just fallen asleep when the sun beamed onto her bed, informing her it was morning. She was lying on her stomach with her head under the pillow, and she did not want to get up yet. However, she knew she hadn’t finished her assignments yet, and she had to get working on those right away. But something felt strange; she wasn't sure what it was. Did boys wake up feeling confused all the time? No wonder she couldn't make sense of Ron if this was how he started each day. Something was definitely different this time. Reaching under the pillow, she rubbed her eyes, but something hairy tended to get in her hand’s way. She rolled over and brushed long strands of hair from her eyes. Oh, no, was she in someone else's body?

Think quickly, she thought, check under the pyjamas, lumps in the right places, slightly enlarged teeth back in mouth, YES! She was back in her own body! Now, where was she? Peep out from the covers, look around the room, yes, back in the girls' dorm!

Hermione searched hastily around the room—no dirty pants owned by boys on the floor, no beds with thrown-on sheets practical like a boy to put no actual thought into making it properly. A wide grin shone on her face as she squeaked while jumping up and down in her seat.

“Are you okay?” asked a soft sounding voice. Hermione looked over at one of the four-poster beds, staring face-to-face with Lavender Brown. That statement drowned all hopes for Hermione, and she quickly turned her attention to the mirror next to her bed. A brown haired, brown-eyed girl stared back at her. She was back!

“I’m me again!” Hermione exclaimed.

“When were you never you?” Lavender asked, unsure whether her friend had fallen out of bed at some time during the night.

“Never mind,” Hermione said blankly as she continued to stare at herself. Lavender gaped at Hermione, but turned and left the room.

Hermione couldn’t believe it. She had her own body again.

“I’m back, I’m back, I’m—OW!” Hermione cut herself off as she accidentally bounced out of bed onto the floor.

***

Running down the steps to the Gryffindor common room, Hermione pushed open the door and charged right over to the boys’ dormitories with her knapsack over her shoulder. A few students resided in the common room, and watched Hermione beeline her way to the boys’ dorm. A few suspected she was in another one of her cross moods and decided not to ask questions—though most didn’t care otherwise.

She climbed the steps and pushed open the door to Harry and Ron’s room.

“Ron, are you—” she began, but was cut off by the sight of no one being there, just the clutter and smell she didn’t miss one bit. Where could they be? She went back down to the common room and out the portrait hole to the Great Hall.

On her way there, many questions filled her head that couldn’t be answered. Did what happened really happen? What day is it? Where are Harry and Ron? It was becoming quite a pain in the—

“Hermione!” a voice shouted down the corridor, breaking her train of thought. Hermione looked up and saw Ginny running towards her. “Hermione, where have you been?”

“Um…sleeping,” she answered, though a little unsure herself.

“Oh, well are you heading to the Great Hall? Harry and Ron are there.”

“Yeah.”

The two walked to the hall and found Harry and Ron sitting with Neville, Seamus, and a few other Gryffindors eating breakfast. Hermione went up behind Ron and said, “Ron, we need to talk.”

“Uh oh, mate,” Harry said in a serious tone, “nothing good comes after those words.” He smiled and looked up at Hermione, who didn’t seem to be enjoying Harry’s little humour. “They’re cursed,” he added in a whisper towards Ron.

Ron sniggered and asked, “Oh, so you’re talking to me now, is that it?”

A bit confused, she answered, “I’m serious. I have to ask you something.”

He waved his hand snobbishly, and said, “Ask away…”

She looked around at the other Gryffindors to see if they were all distracted by other things, and leaned in, asking, “Can we go some place in private?”

“Is that your question?” he asked with a slight chuckle. “Sorry, no. I’m much too busy with the affairs going on here.” He panned his hand out at the table of Gryffindors throwing bits of food at each other.

Hermione took in a deep breath, and quietly asked, “Did all that really happen yesterday?”

Ron looked baffled over at Harry and then up at Hermione, and answered, “Did…what all really happen yesterday?”

She froze and deciphered what Ron had just said, making sure she heard correctly, and said, “Never mind, Ron. Just forget it,” and sat down next to him. Ron sent Harry a puzzled look, and continued eating and going about the conversation he was having with Harry.

If he’s not going to talk about it, then neither am I, she thought, poured her self some orange juice, and pulled out her homework from the week before.

“You would not be able to handle that!” she heard Harry say to her left and immediately became intrigued by their topic of discussion.

“What are you two talking about?” she asked.

“Ron being a girl for a day,” Harry answered. “He wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’d break down, crying or some sort.”

“I would NOT cry! I’d merely entertain myself in a broom closet,” Ron corrected with a big grin.

“Excuse me?” Hermione asked, placing her hands on her lap and becoming more interested in the conversation.

“Hermione,” Ron said with a grin as picked up a napkin, “watch where you place your hands. You’re supposed to use a napkin, not your clothes. And it’s not like it would be your body,” he assured. “I would never do that to you…” The last sentence he added with a serious yet somehow jokingly tone to it. Was he trying to secretly tell her something?

Hermione was completely lost now, and she only responded with a perplexed expression.

“Oh…” Harry added, leaning towards Ron, “it’s that time of the month. She never finds anything amusing then. Her dreams must be plain and boring as well.” Hermione’s eyes went wide, and she sent Harry an annoyed, cursing expression. Though losing his smile, Harry added, “See you would not be able to handle that. You laugh at every bloody thing in sight.”

“Eybefoowood!” Ron spat with bits of food coming out.

“I think you two should stop talking about this conversation,” Hermione intervened with a slight disgusted face as she looked over at Ron. “It’s something that clearly wouldn’t happen, so why bother yourselves about it anyway?”

Harry and Ron sat bewildered for a moment, looking at her and then at each other. When words were finally spoken, they both smiled and answered, “Nah!”

“Don’t even try to pretend, you wouldn’t be able to handle it!” Harry exclaimed, turning back to Ron.

“Come off it,” Ron rebutted, “I’m strong enough to handle anything a girl’s body can dish up.”

Harry’s laugh echoed throughout the Great Hall, and the boys continued their friendly row. Hermione shook her head and went back to her homework, ignoring Harry and Ron completely. She checked her schedule planner for the date: Saturday, 25th of April. Wait a minute, she thought. Yesterday was Saturday.

“Harry, Ron, look at this!” Hermione exclaimed in a whisper. “Look my planner says it’s Saturday. Yesterday was Saturday!”

Harry and Ron stared at the planner for a moment until Ron leaned over and turned its page. “There,” he said. “Now it’s Sunday.”

They both laughed annoyingly, and continued their conversation. Those two would never admit to the amount to insanity they went through yesterday, but they’d always find the simplest ways to torture her about it. Though she may not have shown it, the dilemma her and Ron went through ate at her insides. Who or what did this? Why did this happen? Would she encounter it again? Periodically, she’d turn her attention back to Harry and Ron to see if they began a new topic of discussion. However, it didn’t happen any time soon.

The Great Hall soon became befuddled by the commotion of students entering and leaving, and practicing their incantations for Charms class. As the boys continued to quarrel and Hermione studiously worked, the Headmaster of the school gazed down upon the three from his seat at the professors’ tables, smiling with a little twinkle in his eyes.
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