Author: Semirhage )
Rating:R, just to be safe for later chapters. If you're reading from FF.N, the rating will never go higher, so you just might have to head to an archive somewhere else to read the NC17 version...if I make one, that is.
Warnings: Slash, obviously; boys and girls switching bodies; cussing...
Spoilers: All five books, likely
Pairing: For starters, RWHG, RW/HP (as HG), surprise HP pairing...be looking forward to more, though!
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own them. I'd give my malfunctioning computer for a Harry, though... .
Summary: During a practice-potions session between Harry and Hermione, a potion goes unexplainably wrong. Both are rendered unconscious after consuming it, and when they wake up they're looking at themselves! Contains slash, lots of Harry and Hermione (non-couple, of course), and just plain wackiness. Oh, and Snape, because no fanfic is complete without a strong dose of the Potions master. ;)
Author's Notes: Erm...not much, except the title is German, and basically translates to "From My Body To Your Body". Yes, it does have to do with the story, but you have to wait until later chapters to find out... And please review...I've tried writing stories without them, but my muses lose interest so fast and I find it real hard to cope on my own. =D Besides, I like ideas...really, you might actually set my mind in gear. ::grins::
.................................................................................................
CHAPTER ONE
The only audible sounds in the room were the slow breathing of the two sleeping figures splayed across the ruffled bed. The signs of the carnal pleasures they had experienced before drifting into their current lull were still obvious; the air emanated hints of sex and strawberries. The only witnesses to the secretive acts were the walls, the furniture, and the occasional candle.
A sigh broke through the silence, reverberating softly off the stony walls. Slowly, a pair of eyes opened to reveal bright green orbs. They snapped towards the clock sitting on the bed side table, assessing the number displayed brightly. "Just my bloody luck," Harry moaned. "I fall asleep and two whole hours fly by."
His eyes flitted across the dark room to the small candles that perched on the scattered surfaces: a solid oak dresser, a small desk, and the table by the bed. The candles were red and produced the smell of strawberries. They were burning close to the wick, evidence that they had been in use for several hours already. Their faint illumination was the only light in the room; it flowed across the disheveled bed and two figures on it.
The other figure...a picture of incomparable beauty to Harry, sheets pooling around bare skin that nearly glowed in the candlelight. At times like this, he wondered how he had sloughed from his disastrous relationship with Cho Chang to jump headlong into...something like this. Granted, it was not exactly a relationship, technically, but as close to one as Harry had come to one. Of course, his experience with Cho had been limited to a chaste kiss and horrible first date. He had never been on a date with his current lover, but he would still say this was more of a relationship, even if it was not exactly one.
Glancing at the clock again, the dark haired boy sighed and nudged his sleeping lover. He hopped from the bed and located his pants half way across the room. His boxers, he was happy to see, were still in them. "Lucky," he muttered. At least he did not have to go without underpants. As it was, he would probably be late. He pulled both on and walked back to the bed, noting his shirt peeking from under the bed. Once again, he nudged the sleeping figure, this time leaning down to trail his tongue across the slightly parted lips. "Wake up," he muttered as hazy eyes slowly opened to regard him sleepily. "I've got to go," he announced, running his hand through the soft hair splayed across the pillow.
"But, Haarry..."
A pair of arms suddenly wrapped around him and Harry found himself dealing with his very cute and very naked lover. "Hermione's helping me with potions. I can't just stand her up. And since you're no good with Snape's Advanced Potions, I have to accept my help where I can find it."
"Heh. Besides that, I doubt we'd get much done." A pair of eyebrows waggled. "Not like I need you anyway, Potter. I can get my kicks elsewhere if need be. Ehhh, and at least I don't have to worry about this being a meeting betwixt lovers."
"Ron would kill me," Harry joked, brushing a strand of stray hair from his lover's forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow morning before breakfast, okay?"
"If I feel like it - oh, come on, Harry. Of course I will be there. Just who do you think I am? Who would I want to give up one brilliant morning with the great Harry Po- Mmmph."
One of Harry's hands tangled in the already messy hair and the other wrapped around the opposing body to pull it closer to him while he silenced further flow of ramble with his mouth. By the time he stopped, he was nearly ready to remove the pants he had put back on. I could owl Hermione, he thought. Make up some story-
Suddenly, the weight of the other's body disappeared. "I know you want to stay, but you really should go. Besides, you need Hermione Granger's help. Otherwise, you won't become an Auror. And that's your dream, right?"
Releasing a deep breath, Harry nodded. "Right," he agreed, bending to grab his shirt from the floor. After sliding it over his head and pulling his arms through the sleeves, Harry furtively searched the room. "Where-"
"Here." Dangling before his eyes was his wand. "Don't want to be walking around without this, do you?"
"Thanks," Harry said, grabbing for it only to watch it disappear over his head. "Will you just give it to me? I'm already late!" His eyes darted to the clock before landing on the figure impishly holding his wand.
"Say the magic words, Harry, and maybe I'll consider it."
"Just give it to me," Harry snapped, jumping for the wand that was just barely out of his reach. "Will you - Argg!"
"Not even close," the taunting voice whispered, eyes dancing in humour.
"Okay. Fine," Harry muttered. "The magic words."
"Stop being sarcastic, Harry."
Pushing himself onto his tiptoes, Harry reached for the wand. A grin spread across his face as he felt his fingers closing around the smooth, wooden surface. He pulled it from the hand that had been holding it and stepped backwards. "I've really got to go now. Hermione's going to yell at me for minutes for being late. Bye."
Quickly, so as not to be interrupted again, he strode to the door and shut it. A soft, laughing, "Bye," followed him out the door.
For a few moments, Harry stood, gazing at what used to be the entrance to the DA's meeting room. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he wondered what the others that had been in the DA would make of his use for it now. A lover's retreat.
Shaking his head, he tore his gaze from the entrance and forced his feet to carry him to the students' workroom. At the beginning of sixth year, Snape had informed Harry and his classmates that he allowed his Advanced Potions classes to use one of his workrooms to practice. Harry had mentally agreed that it was only fair when he had heard Snape's plans for the year. They were expected to memorise and understand every potion in their book, not to mention the others that were not featured there. Harry was sure Snape had a list that spanned at least two feet of parchment.
The air became progressively more chilly as Harry descended to the dungeons, and he found himself wishing he had thought to bring a robe with him. As he walked, he trailed his fingers along the wall, lost between marvel and nausea at the cool, slimy surface.
"Lost, Mr. Potter?" asked a voice that could have rivaled ice for coolness.
Cringing, Harry yanked his hand from the wall and turned sharply on his heels to face Snape. "No, sir," he answered, forcing his voice to a level that just barely passed as respect. "I'm going to the student's workroom. You said we could go anytime so long as we weren't breaking curfew-"
"I know what I said," Snape interjected coldly. "And so I ask again, Mr. Potter, are you lost?"
"And again, I answer no, Professor," Harry replied, fumbling with his control for a civil tone. Had Professor Snape finally gone mad? As hilarious as the thought was, Harry doubted it. "I'm going to the student's workroom, sir." When Snape stepped closer, eyes glittering coldly, Harry suspected his choice of words had not been prudent.
"Then why, when you passed it over two minutes ago, did you keep walking?" Snape asked, lips quirking into a sneer that Harry often felt was reserved for solely three people: Remus, Sirius, and himself.
Mouth open, Harry felt all words desert him to face Snape stupidly. I should have noticed it was taking too long, but he doesn't have to make me feel like such an idiot! Gathering his fleeting wits, he clenched his fists and muttered, "I wasn't paying attention, Sir, I was-"
"Obviously," Snape snarled. "If I ever find you down here again, Mr. Potter, I will cut your rights to the workroom. I do not tolerate disobedient students with a penchant for idle curiosity and stray visits into places they do not belong. Do you comprehend me? Or is your mind too simple to understand?"
Face burning with humiliation and anger, Harry nodded; he did not trust himself to formulate a verbal reply since he would likely end up saying something that would land him in mounds of trouble. He slowly wove around Snape and walked towards the workroom. He could not afford to make Snape so mad that he banned him from the place so perfect for practicing potions. Sure, he could always go back to Myrtle's bathroom, but then he would not have access to the much needed ingredients that were available in large quantities in the workroom. Just keep walking, he mentally advised himself.
"Oh, and Mr. Potter," Snape's icy drawl sounded from behind the dark-haired boy, "ten points from Gryffindor for lying to a Professor twice."
Harry faltered mid-step and nearly fell on his face. Gritting his teeth until he was sure they might crack under the pressure, he forced his feet to continue their casual gait, at the same time mentally cursing Snape to hell. Bastard, he thought angrily. Ever since he had looked into the black-haired Professor's penseive the previous year, his usual glares had been filled with more loathing than Harry had thought possible for one person to feel towards another. I hate him. I HATE him!
"There you are, Harry," an impatient feminine voice announced. "I was ready to give up on you. Come on - we don't have but forty minutes before curfew, and that's barely enough time to finish the potion."
Sighing, Harry allowed himself to be led into the students' workroom by his best female friend. Besides them, it was empty of students. Harry decided that any others who had come to practice had already left. Wise of them, considering Snape would be prowling around, hoping to catch some poor student unawares.
"So, did you have any potion in specific planned for today?" he asked as he looked around the room. It looked like a miniature version of the potions classroom, minus Snape's rather large, intimidating ebony desk. One of the workstations, he noticed as his eyes swept to it, was already prepared for work. A cauldron was ready and ingredients set out. "I suppose you've already selected one," he muttered dryly.
"The Senses Solution," Hermione announced as she took her place by the cauldron. "I chose it because it is relatively simple, which means the process of brewing it won't take nearly as long as some of the other, more complicated potions. And we'll have to concentrate on you tonight - even with this potion, there's not nearly enough time for me to help you and make my own."
"Fine," Harry agreed as he strode to where the girl was standing. He was, after all, the one who had more trouble with potions, and he was willing to bet that she had already practiced with the Senses Solution at least once. "But let's hurry. Snape saw me earlier, so you can be sure he'll check by at the hour, and wouldn't he just love to get the two of us in trouble. Huh. Bet he's got nothing better to do. He such a cranky, crabby old man, it's no wonder he's all alone, spending his spare time stalking the halls to make sure the pupils aren't wandering where they don't belong."
Hermione sighed. "Harry, even if that is true, you know you shouldn't speak of a Professor like that!" Her mouth thinned into a stern line, reminding Harry of the way Professor McGonagall looked the numerous times Harry had been in trouble with her.
Deciding the wise action would be to let the conversation end with Hermione's comment, Harry began investigating the ingredients. "Let's just hurry with this. I don't have any particular wish to be on the receiving end of Snape's surly remarks again today."
"Again?" Hermione asked, eyebrows knitting into a frown of disapproval. "Harry, what did you do this time? Didn't Ron and I both warn you to stay away from Snape? He isn't exactly fond of the idea that you made it into his Advanced Potions, and he'll drop you the moment he gets the excuse."
Groaning and running his hands through his hair, Harry nodded. "Yes, yes, I remember. But it was Snape who talked to me first. And I'm sure it will please you to know that I held my temper and did not say one rude word to him. In fact, I was completely civil, despite his lack of social skills. But then, I suppose since he's a professor, he's entitled to be lacking in that." He knew his tone was bitter, but if he could not take out his anger of Snape on Snape, it might as well be the one person who would wave the harsh tone away.
Shrugging, Hermione turned her attention back to the cauldron and ingredients. "Fine, if you say you were respectful, I believe you. Now, do you remember how to make the potion?" The stern lines of her mouth stated clearly that she thought he should. As he chanted the instructions word for word, her lips curved into a surprised smile. "Well, then," she said, "let's get to work."
As he worked, Harry studied Hermione from his peripheral vision. She was intently watching him work, big brown orbs flying from hand to hand, supervising and assessing every move. Her elbows were propped on the surface of the desk, her chin resting in the palm of her hands. The look on her face was one of meticulous observation, and Harry was sure she did not miss one detail of his work.
Taking deep breaths, Harry fell into the lull he had become acquainted with when he worked potions. One portion of his mind was actively concentrating on the task at hand, while the other, smaller part roamed. This time, it considered the girl watching him closely. It's no wonder Ron likes her so much, he thought, somewhat sadly. Despite the frequent times he told himself that he was not jealous of what they shared, he knew he was. Sometimes, they did not even notice him - they were too busy staring into each other's eyes...or some other silly, romantic idiocy. No, he was not jealous. Yeah right.
Their happiness was not fair, he decided. Hermione was so lucky. She could be with the person she liked without other people frowning upon her. She did not have to worry about the time that her significant other would lose interest and start after something prettier, because Ron was not like that. She was so lucky, and she did not even realise it. I wish I was Hermione Granger, he lamented as he thought of the times Hermione and Ron had walked hand-in-hand through the Hogwarts halls. I wish I was...
.................................................................................................
Half an hour later, Harry and Hermione stared into the finished, murky brown substance. They both had checked the physical traits of the potion - and they all matched the description provided in their potions textbook. The only other way to test the potion for its correctness would be to drink it. Harry was positive that since it had passed all the other tests, drinking it would cause no harm, and in the unlikely case that something did happen, the infirmary was not far.
"I guess I'll drink it, then," he muttered. "If I gag and make disgusted faces, you'll know it passed the taste test." He grimaced, the description the book had provided rushing through his mind. However, it would not be the first time he had put some vile concoction in his mouth. Memories of the Polyjuice Potion surged to him, filling his mouth with an entirely sour taste.
"I'll drink it as well," Hermione stated as she poured them the proper amount into two bottles. "Besides, what harm could my senses being at one hundred percent be, anyway?" she asked, grinning slightly. "At least we'd know if Snape was coming near." Winking, she handed Harry one of the bottles and raised hers into the air. "To you managing to pass sixth year potions and getting into seventh."
Grimacing, Harry nodded. When he had thought making it into Snape's sixth year Potions class had been a miracle, he had not realised that staying in it would be even more difficult. He raised the glass to his lips, tilted it upwards, and prepared himself for the rush of a disgusting liquid coursing through his mouth. It never came. Instead, a sweet sugary taste that reminded him of fresh fruit clung to his tongue and fled down his throat.
His vision blurred and body tingled, then he was floating upwards, white light flooding around him in ethereal streams. "Where am I?" he wondered, his voice strange to his own ears. A strange sensation of tranquility stilled his nerves, allowing him to bask in the warm illumination. He felt so...peaceful. All too suddenly, he fell back to the earth, a roaring filling his ears. He screamed as pain shot through his body.
Hermione was screaming as well, he noticed dully as a girl's voice penetrated his foggy mind. As soon as he found the controls for his vocal cords, Hermione stopped. The floor was hard and cold under his back, Harry realised vaguely as he forced his eyes to open. Something was not right - that much was clear the instant he regained consciousness.
"Hermione?" he asked - and jumped when he heard a girl's voice springing from his lips. Hissing, he sat and looked across the floor. At himself. "Shit!" he exclaimed, starting again as he heard Hermione's voice. What went wrong? he wondered mentally, since there at least he still heard his own voice.
He watched, intrigued, as he started to move. A shock of raven-black hair fell across a lightly toned forehead, covering the lightning-mark he knew was imprinted into the otherwise unmarred skin. Slowly, a pair of startling green eyes opened behind hideously enormous spectacles. The boy blinked, then gasped, eyes widening more than Harry had thought possible. "What - Harry? But..." the voice spoke haltingly as the boy - no, Hermione - struggled to sit.
So that's what I look like, he thought as he watched himself. At least now I see what everyone says about those glasses. They do make my eyes look owlish. Sliding across the floor, he winced when he noticed his body worked differently now than it had before. Of course, he thought cynically. Now I'm a girl. Of course things are going to be different. Finally, when he had moved so that he was sitting directly in front of himself, he queried, "I suppose you have no clues as to how this could have happened?"
Once more, he was held captivated as his head swung slightly, sending strands of black hair flying. "None...everything was perfect. I have no idea...how this could have happened." Small, slightly uneven teeth flashed to sink into an already abused bottom lip. "Oh, Harry, what are we going to do? We can't walk around in each other's bodies! Someone will find out, and..."
Forcing his mind to focus on what had just happened, Harry tapped his fingers against the cool floor. "We'll just have to wait until tomorrow night when we have time to brew the potion again," he finally said. "Hopefully, it will work again, and if it doesn't...we can deal with it then. Now, we need to hurry and clean before the clock tolls and Snape gives us a week's worth of detentions for not being in the common room on time."
Suddenly, the door opened to reveal a glaring Professor Snape. "What are you two doing? This workroom is for practicing with your potions, not having a romantic liaison. Ms. Granger, while I would expect something of the sort from Mr. Potter, I would have thought you cared more for your work. If I ever catch you two in this situation again, both of you will be banned from this workroom." From the way his lips turned into a sneer, Harry was positive he would be more than willing to do it...he would be ecstatic. "It's five minutes till the hour. I suggest you hurry." Harry watched as Snape's face turned into the furious glare he had often fought hard to stand tall under. Eyes flashing to himself, he saw that he was wilting under it, shoulders hunching.
"We were just cleaning, Professor," he said, in an attempt to keep Snape from realising something was wrong. "Actually, I...I slipped and fell, and took He-Harry down with me." He watched as Snape's attention turned from him - no, Hermione - to him; watched as the glare lessened just slightly, went from incensed to just angry. So this is what the rest of the Gryffindors felt when Snape turned his gaze on them? Harry could have basked in this - it was almost like appraisal, compared to what he had to live with.
"Did you?" he asked, silky voice sending a knife through Harry. "In that case, Ms. Granger, I suggest you tame your klutziness and clean your cauldron. Every second that you stand explaining yourself is a second of those precious five minutes wasted. Can you even make it back to Gryffindor from here in five minutes?"
Gritting his teeth, Harry turned on the heel of his foot and stomped to where Hermione was already cleaning. With the two of them, the task did not take nearly as long to complete, but Snape's counting down the minutes did not help Harry's edgy nerves. Finally, finished, he brushed past Snape and turned to wait for Hermione. As she gathered her books, Harry found his eyes drawn to the potions Master. As usual, Snape's gaze was centered on him - who was actually Hermione, Harry reminded himself - but he had never been able to study his professor's facial expression before. It still looked the same: an unexplainable loathing that Harry returned just as strongly and vehemently. And yet...something else was there, something that flashed dully in the obsidian depths. Suddenly, it was smothered as a wall of impenetrable ice descended.
"All finished, 'Mione," a boyishly soft voice announced, jerking Harry back to the present situation. Nodding curtly to Snape, the black-haired boy led the way to the Gryffindor common room, Harry following behind more somberly. However, as soon as they were out of Snape's sight, both ran heedlessly.
Only when they had safely passed by the Fat Lady's portrait did Harry pause for breath. "That was too close," he said after his breathing was back under control. A quick look around the common room told him that everyone was already in their dorms, probably trying to get some sleep - either that or huddling over some magazine. "Tomorrow play sick for Quidditch practice," he advised Hermione. "Instead, meet me in the Potions workroom. We may have to bring the potion back here - or to the Prefects bathroom - to use it. I don't know about you, but I don't want to change back into my own body in front of Malfoy or some other Slytherin."
"All right," Hermione nodded. "Until then, we should just try to be each other and keep our conversations down to the minimum. And since I'm sleepy, I'm going to head to bed. Your bed."
Harry sighed as he realised that he would also be loaning Hermione his wand for the moment. However much he wanted to trade, he knew it would be very odd if he and Hermione used each other's wands in class. Hermione must have realised this as well, for she simply sighed and said goodnight before heading towards the boys' dormitory. For a few moments, he watched the solemn figure retreating before mounting the stairs that led into the girls' dormitory. Finding Hermione's bed proved to be no difficult task, considering Lavender and Parvati were already asleep in theirs. It was not until he was huddled under the covers that he realised the wards around the girl's stairs might not have allowed him to enter. By that time, he was drifting into a light sleep and did not ponder on it very long.
To be continued...