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You're Me?! by Ron Weasley

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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.