The Paintbrush Dares
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the insane excuse for a plot and two paintbrushes!
It was late on a Friday night in Gryffindor Tower; so late, indeed, that all the inhabitants were asleep - with a few exceptions. One such exception was Hermione Granger, though she was not the Hermione many were used to. In fact, she may have been considered as downright unhinged on this particular night.
The door of the boys' dormitory opened and Ron Weasley felt a sudden cool breeze, as if the hangings around his bed had been opened. He sensed something moving next to his bed. Then a whisper echoed softly through the darkness.
"Awake, painting, and may ye become flesh."
Ron's eyes jolted open. He'd know that voice anywhere - but why was Hermione in the boys' dormitory at such a late hour? Also, why was she talking as if she had come out of some old story, and why was she addressing him as "painting"?
"Ah, ye are awake. Come, painting, that ye may assist me on my quest." She tugged on his hand, leading him out of his bed. He scrambled to pull on his dressing gown and slippers as she led him out of his dormitory, down into the common room.
"Hermione, what-" he began to speak, but was cut off by a sharp whisper.
"Silence, painting! I am no Hermione! Look at me - do I look like a Hermione to ye?"
Ron looked at her, taking in her rather odd appearance. She had on a neon green tube top, a vivid pink pair of booty shorts, black over-the-knee high-heeled boots, large hoop earrings, a cat bell necklace, and shimmering gold pixie wings; her hair was in high pigtails tied with large blue ribbons and she held two small paintbrushes in her hands, one green and one orange. Ron blinked and shook his head.
"Of course I don't! Why would I be a Hermione? Ye may call me Helen, if ye are so caught up on names," she huffed.
"Er… then call me Red," said a bewildered Ron.
"Nay," said Hermione, shaking her head dismissively, "Ye are a painting, and I shall call ye as such. Come now, ye must stay close or ye shall return to being paint. We must tarry not, for we must escape our painted fate. Come!" Beckoning imperiously, she half-dragged him through the portrait hole.
The Fat Lady was, for some odd reason, awake. "And just where are you two going?"
"Ahhhhhh!" Hermione quietly screamed, causing the hairs on the back of Ron's neck to stand up.
"What?" he asked.
"The portal to the real world where everything is not a painting is slightly open! Come, painting, assist me in the opening of the portal!" With a slightly crazed look in her eyes, Hermione thrust the green paintbrush at Ron.
"How do I open the portal?" Ron asked, catching the paintbrush and wondering what was wrong with Hermione.
"Tsk," went Hermione. "Observe." She proceeded to paint the floor orange with her paintbrush, paint coming out of the seemingly dry bristles. A few minutes later, a miniature bridge was represented in orange paint from the floor at their feet to the bottom of the picture frame. "However," she intoned, "ye must be careful so as not to disturb the inhabitant of the portal too greatly; otherwise, the portal shall shut and we shall be stuck here, in this painted world, forevermore."
"Right," Ron nodded, wondering, Has Hermione gone insane? What is going on? And why does she insist on calling me a painting?
"No use," hissed Hermione, shaking her head, "this shall get us to Nowhere more quickly than you can say 'Irish wristwatch'."
"Iris wriswatch…. Irish wish-wash…. Isis wishwash…. Merlin, that's hard to say!"
"No more so than 'unique New York'."
"Yuoyeek Yew York…. nunique New York…. Argh!"
"My point exactly," Hermione whispered, glancing about as if looking out for something or someone.
"So what exactly are we looking for?" Ron asked.
Hermione tsked again, saying, "How many times must I tell ye, painting, that we are looking for a portal so we can escape this world of paint? Come!" She then led him off down the corridor, looking suspiciously about. As they rounded a corner on the fourth floor, they heard a faint meow.
"What is it, my sweet? Students out of bed, you say? We'll see about this!" Filch had rounded the corner suddenly. "You two! I've caught you now!"
Ron glanced sideways at Hermione and received a shock. Hermione was looking almost seductively at Filch. She ran her tongue over her teeth before she spoke.
"Gee, Mr. Filch," she began, her voice low and alluring, "we're sorry. We didn't mean to get in your way, sir." She took a few steps closer to him, swaying her hips as she walked. "After all, who'd get in the way of a man like you? You are the most influential person in all of Hogwarts." She ran her tongue over her teeth again. "We're awfully sorry, Mr. Filch." She placed a hand almost tenderly on his shoulder, looking at him through lowered lashes.
"A-alright," choked a befuddled-looking Filch, "go. Get out of my sight!"
"Yes, sir," cooed Hermione. "Right away." She stepped away from him, beckoned to Ron, and continued down the corridor.
Ron was gaping at her. What had that been? Hermione had acted all - all - something towards Filch, gotten them out of trouble, and then walked off in the same manner she'd held before the encounter! What was going on?
"Helen," he sputtered, "w-what was that?"
Her manner changer once more to the sultry side as she turned to face him, putting her arms over his shoulders, bringing her face close to his. "Aw," she breathed, "is painting-koi jealous of the Paint Remover?"
"I-I-I-" stuttered Ron, his ears red.
Suddenly, her manner changed again and she released him, walking off down the hall again. "Painting!" She beckoned, "Come quickly! I sense the approach of the Wielder of the Paintbrush! We must hide, or be turned to paint! In here!" She disappeared behind a tapestry, dragging Ron with her. A few moments later, they heard footsteps, then the tapestry was torn back to reveal Professor McGonagall.
Hermione shrieked, "The Wielder of the Paintbrush has come! Run, painting, run! Ye must escape thy painted fate!"
"Miss Granger! Mister Weasley! What are you two doing?" Professor McGonagall demanded, looking at them. Upon seeing Hermione's outfit, she added, "And what are you doing in those ridiculous clothes, Miss Granger?"
At this, Hermione snapped. She shouted, "How many times must I tell ye fools? I am no Hermione, nor am I a Miss Granger! Do I look like a Hermione or like a Miss Granger? Nay! I do not! I am Helen, and ye paintings and Wielders of the Paintbrush would do best to remember that fact! Painting!" She turned suddenly to a frightened-looking Ron, "We must stand our ground against the Wielder of the Paintbrush!" Turning back to a most bewildered-looking Professor McGonagall, she proclaimed, "Do with us what ye will, Wielder of the Paintbrush, but know that we shall fight! En guarde!" She began to flash her paintbrush around like a sword, spattering all of them with paint. "Ye shall not take me that easily," she screamed, spattering them with more paint, "know that Helen does not go down easily! Yah!" She then wrenched her green paintbrush out of Ron's grip and, holding one paintbrush in each hand, began spinning in circles. Both Ron and Professor McGonagall were soon heavily covered with paint.
During this confusion, Ron asked Professor McGonagall, "Should I try to get her back up to the common room, Professor?"
"That would be wise." She nodded. "Tell anyone who asks that I asked you to escort her up to Gryffindor Tower after she was hit by a spell. Do you know why she is acting this way?"
Ron shook his head. "She just grabbed me and announced that we were going on a quest."
Suddenly, Hermione stopped spinning, grabbed Ron's hand, and dashed off, yelling, "Tarry not, painting, for we must escape the realm of the Wielder of the Paintbrush!"
"Helen," panted Ron, "I know of a place where the quest can be completed! Follow me!"
"Lead the way, O painting!" Helen called ecstatically, "That we may finish this quest tonight!"
Eventually, the two made it back up to the Fat Lady. She raised her eyebrows at them. "And just where have you two been?"
"Never mind that - tapeworm, tapeworm!" Ron panted out the password.
Sighing, the Fat Lady swung forward to admit them. It was a pity, she thought, that they were in such a hurry; the whereabouts of those two tonight would've made some rather juicy gossip. You know… where they weren't will anyway. I'll go visit Vi. And she left her painting, to begin what would be one of Hogwarts's most fantastic rumors - not least because of the way Hermione was dressed.
Once Ron had gotten Hermione into the common room, her eyes began to glow and she announced, "The quest is complete! Ye have done well to assist me, O painting! Farewell!" She then dashed up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Ron watched her go, and then slowly trudged up the stairs to his.
Upon opening the door, he was met with the stares of his roommates. He created - most ironically - quite a picture, standing in the doorway in his dressing gown, panting and paint-covered at two in the morning. "Where were you?" Dean asked.
"What were you doing?" Seamus questioned.
"Why are you covered in paint?" Harry asked.
"Does this have anything to do with Hermione coming in here earlier wearing a tube top, booty shorts, tall boots, ribbons, a cat bell, hoops, and wings?" This earned Neville stares from Dean, Seamus, and Harry and a groan from Ron.
"What are you talking about, Neville," asked Seamus, "and does it have anything to do with that, Ron?"
Ron muttered something incoherent; they caught something that sounded like, "Hermione-Helen-wings-outfit-Filch what was that-ruddy paint-Wielder of the Paintbrush-green-orange…." He then regained coherency in speech and said, "I'm going to go get this stuff off of me." He then headed for the showers. Suddenly, he paused and looked back at the others. "Do any of you know what 'koi' means?"
They shrugged, and Ron headed to the showers.
Seamus wolf-whistled. "Y'know, I do believe Hermione has just moved up in the ranks."
Dean nodded and made adjustments to their list.
While this conversation was occurring….
Hermione dashed up the stairs and burst into her dormitory, where Ginny, Parvati, Lavender, and a few other girls were sitting. "Ye shall rue the day ye invited me to play Truth or Dare, Ginerva Weasley," said Hermione in a low and deadly voice, pointing dramatically at Ginny.
"Hey!" Ginny laughed, "You know I'm Queen of the Dares! It's not my fault you didn't pick Truth!"
Smiling evilly, Hermione pulled out her paintbrushes.
A few minutes and an awful lot of paint later, all the girls were green and orange. Crookshanks snickered as Hermione painted the girls. Humans were odd, but good for a laugh. Eventually everything settled down and play resumed.
"Remember, Hermione," Ginny said after another round, "the second part of the dare is for you to act as if this never happened."
"Truth," said Hermione as she nodded.
"Tell us exactly what happened," squealed Parvati.
Hermione groaned as she recounted her story.
When she was done, Mary, one of Ginny's friends, chimed in, "At least you didn't run into the Stirrer of Paints - Professor Snape!"
"Wait," said Lavender, "what does 'koi' mean?"
Mary piped up, before Hermione could answer, "It's some sort of Japanese honorific that means 'girlfriend' or 'boyfriend.'"
As they all looked at Hermione, she blushed, saying, "Well, you told me to act insane! Besides, I had to hang all over Filch," she made a small gagging noise, "so what else was I supposed to do? He put me on the spot!"
"Sure, Hermione," laughed Ginny, "but we know you'd rather call Filch that, right?"
"Ew, not me," grinned Hermione, "but I think someone else might." She looked pointedly at Mimi, another one of Ginny's friends.
"WHAT? NO, NO, NO! NOT ME! I DON'T!" Poor Mimi then freaked out.
"Chill, Mimi, we're joking," winked Ginny.
"Oh," said Mimi in a small voice, going rather red.
And there was much laughter.
The next morning…
"Good morning, Ron, Harry," said Hermione as she joined them in the common room, looking completely herself again.
"Morning," muttered Harry sleepily, not being much of a morning person.
"Good morning," said Ron cautiously.
Hermione looked at him curiously. "What's wrong?"
Ron blinked. "Nothing," he answered, shaking his head.
"Alright, then. Ready for breakfast?"
"Yup," nodded Ron.
"Zzzzzzzz…" went Harry.
Ron and Hermione decided to let their best friend sleep, settling him in an armchair before heading down to breakfast. The Fat Lady raised her eyebrows at them when they climbed out of the portrait hole. "So you're yourself again, Hermione?"
Hermione furrowed her brow before answering, "What are you talking about? When was I not myself?"
The Fat Lady looked surprised, but said nothing.
"That was weird," commented Hermione, glancing back at the Fat Lady as they set off down the same corridor "Helen" had led "the painting" down not ten hours ago.
"Yeah," said Ron, who had been ready to chalk the occurrence up as an odd dream.
While there were many rumors and whisperings throughout the day, Hermione kept up her façade of not knowing what anyone was talking about, despite Filch running in the opposite direction when he saw Hermione coming and Professor McGonagall asking if she felt alright. Eventually, the incident was forgotten.
Many years passed; the war was won; Ron and Hermione got married. Then, one day…
"Hermione, why are there these paintbrushes in your bag with your quills?" Ron asked, looking across their kitchen table.
"Oh," said Hermione, smiling, "well, it all started with a game of Truth or Dare…"
(But you know that part already, don't you?)
*Finish*
I hope you liked it! This was a random idea that popped into my head whilst I was trying to sleep last night and I jotted down a few basic points before I could forget. Love it? Hate it? Review!
…Please?
…Pretty please?
….I'm begging you!
*sobs*