Harry woke up lying on his back. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Moaning Myrtle's face floating directly above his.

“You look awful,” Myrtle said. Her voice was sympathetic but her eyes were dancing with glee.

Harry leaped to his feet, which meant leaping right through Myrtle. The ghost protested: “Hey!”

He ignored Myrtle and the cold chills that ran through him, and stumbled into the stall where Hermione had gone in to tend to Pansy's 'injuries.'

Hermione was lying on her back with her head next to the toilet, stripped to her underwear as Pansy had been. Her hair was soaking wet, and she had a vivid bruise under one eye.

“Oh, lord,” Harry groaned. Hermione opened her eyes, blinked at him, sat up, looked around groggily, looked down at herself, and screamed. She crossed her arms over her chest and pulled her knees up in front of her.

“Are you going to hide in my stall again?” Myrtle asked.

“How long have we been unconscious, Myrtle?” Harry asked.

“How should I know? I found you this way when I returned from Snape's bathroom.”

“Snape's bathroom?” Harry did a double-take. “What were you doing in –”

“Harry! You have to stop Pansy!” Hermione said. “If she catches Ron while he's still downstairs...”

“Right.” Harry looked down at her. “Umm...”

“GO!” Hermione shouted. And as Harry ran for the door, she added, in a small voice, “And please bring me some robes when you're done.”

Harry dashed downstairs, ran through the long gallery leading to the corridor that went past the kitchens and into the Potions classroom, and took an abrupt right turn to half-run, half-fall down the stairs toward the Slytherin dungeons. He heard curses – verbal and magical – echoing off the walls.

When he came around the corner, two nearly-naked Pansy Parkinsons were hurling spells at one another.

“Pansy!” Harry shouted. “Ron!”

Both girls looked at him, and promptly pointed at the other. “Harry, that's Pansy! Get her!”

Harry blinked rapidly. Both of their robes were singed and shredded by the hexes they'd been throwing at each other, and Pansy had been wearing plain school robes when he and Ron had nabbed her. If only she'd worn something frilly and colorful!

“Bloody hell, Harry, that's Pansy!” snapped one of the Pansys, in a very Ron-like tone. Harry pointed his wand at the other one.

“Are you mental?” asked the Pansy he was pointing his wand at. “Ask me something only I would know!”

“What's your favorite Quidditch team?” Harry asked.

“The Chudley Cannons,” Pansy #2 answered promptly.

Harry pointed his wand back at the first Pansy.

“Of course she knows my favorite Quidditch team is the Chudley Cannons!” Pansy #1 shouted. “I wear a bloody Chudley Cannons t-shirt!”

“Good point.” Harry pointed his wand back at Pansy #2.

“You and my sister almost got caught making out in the greenhouse by Professor Sprout,” Pansy #2 said, “and I threatened to kill you if you got her in trouble. Meaning not just with Professor Sprout. And then she told me to mind my own bloody business, and you and me were hacked off at each other for three days. Also, I'm insecure about the size of my willy.”

Pansy #1 turned scarlet. “WHAT?!” she bellowed.

Harry pointed his wand at Pansy #1. She could only sputter.

“For Godric's sake, Harry, someone's going to hear the commotion and be here any moment!” Pansy #2 said. “And the Polyjuice is going to wear off! I've got the keys – both of them!”

Harry cast a Full-Body Bind spell on Pansy #1. She rebounded off the wall and tumbled to the floor. Harry hurried down the steps to check on her.

“Leave her!” Ron/Pansy shouted. “Bloody hell, Harry, if I didn't know better, I'd think you had a thing for the bint!”

“Sorry, Pansy.” Harry stood up and gave Ron a disapproving scowl. “You don't have to talk about her like that.”

Ron, still looking like Pansy, albeit a half-naked Pansy in tattered, singed robes, was clutching two large golden keys in her fist. “I wonder what Ginny would think. Come on, mate.”

Harry followed her as far as the top steps leading up from the dungeon. From deeper in the dungeons, they heard Snape snarling a demand for an explanation.

“I wonder if Myrtle snitched on us after all,” Harry said.

“Nah, we were making enough noise for Snape to hear us from his office,” Pansy/Ron said.

“I didn't know you were insecure about... you know.”

Ron/Pansy giggled.

Harry stopped in his tracks. “Since when do you say 'For Godric's sake'?”

“Petrificus Totalus,” said Pansy, pointing her wand. Harry fell over, stiff as a post. Pansy caught him just before he hit the stone steps.

“Ugh!” she grunted, almost collapsing beneath his weight. She laid him down – gently, surprisingly gently – as Snape's voice rose and more footsteps echoed from below.

“You're an idiot, Potter,” she said. “Ginny Weasley is always going on about you and her brother – it's not exactly difficult to eavesdrop on the bint – and all boys are insecure about their willies. Except maybe you.” She winked, and kissed his petrified lips, then wiggled the two keys to the Three Lock Box mockingly before his eyes. “All's fair, Potter. But if it's any comfort to you, Draco has no idea where the third key is yet, either.”

“Weasley!” Snape's voice sounded like the hiss of a great, angry serpent sliding up from the depths below. Apparently, Ron's Polyjuice Potion had worn off.

Pansy rose to her feet. “You know Potter, this is almost becoming... fun.”

She waved to him, and then moved outside his field of vision, as Snape's voice came bellowing up again: “ONE HUNDRED POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry could not groan, wince, or do anything else but contemplate failure and humiliation, and the number of points Snape would deduct when he came up the stairs and found him. And Pansy's last words.

He was an idiot. He was going to get her for this. He was going to get her good.

And that kiss...

He would have smiled, if he could. This was almost becoming fun.