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.”