Chapter 2: England's Day

Slamming the front door shut, England heaved a sigh of relief and sagged against her ancient mahogany door. She turned the key left in the lock and bolted the chain. Somehow, she had made it home without anyone noticing what had happened! Pulling her cloak hood from her head, she sighed and shook out her long blonde hair. Her flight home had seemed excruciating slow and she had checked over her shoulders at every opportunity. Even riding the Tube she was still weary, scanning every person that boarded the carriage, wrapping her cloak tighter every time someone stepped a little too close. She couldn't let anyone see her in this state! It was bad enough that no one treated her – HIM with respect, but if he was seen looking like this, he would be the laughing stock of the world. Being accidently turned into a girl by his own magic? What an idiot!

England ran a hand over her face. She was home, but now what should she do? Norway had called Germany when they had woken to give their excuses for today's meeting. She had put on a hoarse voice, explaining that both she – HE and England had bad colds and couldn't attend. Germany had sighed and said that the meeting was mandatory, but Norway had merely hung up on him. He had looked particularly awful this morning; heavy bags under his eyes and dishevelled hair coupled with pale skin and shuffling limbs. Seems even the Scandinavians suffered from bad hangovers. Despite the foul mood he was in, Norway had treated England kindly and hadn't kicked him out of his house straight away. They had both done everything they could to reverse the spell England had accidently placed on them. But no matter how hard they both tried, they were still female.

What on earth did I say last night? England thought, wracking his brains for any memory. I was so drunk I can't even remember the details of the spell! I need to find an answer fast or Norway will slaughter me next time we meet.

England cringed as he remembered the awkwardness of the morning. He'd managed to mumble an apology – as had Norway for some reason – grab some breakfast and have a quick shower – which was very weird! Norway had barely eaten anything at breakfast and had wrapped himself in an oversized jumper to drive England to the airport. Neither had spoken during the car journey. Both were too preoccupied scouting for anyone who would recognise them. Thankfully, they had arrived at the airport without incident and after a hurried goodbye, England had boarded his plane and ordered the strongest cup of coffee she – HE could get.

Sighing again, England slowly made her way to the kitchen. She clicked the kettle on and pulled out a mug, teacup and teabag, desperate to wash away the taste of the disgusting airline coffee. She – HE had promised to look up a way of reversing the spell as soon as he got home, but now all he wanted to do was have a cup of tea and hide in his bed for a week. His head was pounding and his stomach was churning, the alcohol from last night still in his system. Why had he agreed to drink that stuff? He should know better.

"I never learn do I? Well, I'm home now," he muttered. He winced at the sound of his own voice; so girly and high pitched. Thank goodness Norway had been the one to call Germany.

England was doing his best to not think of the changes in his body, but as she –HE stood sipping his tea, the thoughts kept forcing their way into his mind. Firstly, he had breasts. Not small breasts either – a fact he was quite pleased of in a perverse way, despite the tightness of his T-shirt. They felt heavy on his chest, but not unbearable so; they were just... there! England had valiantly avoided touching them on his journey home, but now he grabbed one with his free hand. They were soft and squishy, but hurt if they were squeezed too hard. The sensation was very...odd.

Is this how it feels for all girls? England wondered. His mind wandered to the next unusual sensation he was feeling. The missing parts in his trousers! The material didn't sit right now that his hips had widened and his waist had gotten smaller, but the worst part was that he had nothing in the place he should have! There absence was very noticeable; the material was hanging empty and got in the way when he walked. The feeling was... unsettling. That had been the most shocking thing, to wake up without his-

The kettle clicked off and England brewed her tea with a shaky hand. She hadn't eaten anything for a few hours, but didn't trust her – HIS stomach to accept it. He gingerly took a sip of his tea, despite the scalding temperature. It was boiling hot, but tasted like heaven. She – HE loosened his hold over his cloak, letting it fall to his now slender shoulders.

"Alright," he said, slowly making his way to his study, "time to find a remedy for this bloody spell." He trudged upstairs, tea in hand and head pounding. His limbs felt like lead and all she – HE wanted to do was sleep. His fairy friends floated down to see him, but took one look and laughed. He waved them away with his free hand, snarling when they followed him. Today was going to be a long day...

0O0

It was late afternoon and England was sitting cross-legged on his sofa, a freshly made cup of tea resting on his coffee table and a giant spell book in his lap. The book was very old, the leather spine creased and torn at the edges. Stained pages were threatening to come loose and the dust on the front cover wouldn't come off no matter how hard she – HE brushed it. Even when he used his cloak – which he still wore – it made no difference. It was his oldest index off spells and their remedies. England was flicking through the pages as slowly as she could, trying not to let her - HIS impatience and irritable mood get the better of him. He had been searching all afternoon for a remedy, trashing his study in the process. It didn't matter to him, he could easily re-organise it when he was back to his normal self.

If I get back to my normal self, he thought with a shudder. What if he was like this for the rest of his life? And Norway too, would they both be stuck as girls? It was bad enough that everyone thought he was a pervert. If anyone found out what had happened they would assume he'd done it for kinky reasons... He would never be able to live down the shame and he would never be able to look Norway in the eye again.

England shuddered and turned a particularly crumpled page in her index, trying not to think of what France would do if he found out about her current form. England's heavy eyes scanned the ancient text and found a word that she - HE needed. He held a breath and as he translated the Latin in his mind...could it be... had he found the answer...?

"YES!" he shouted, punching a fist into the air, then instantly regretting it as he clutched his pounding head. His fairy friends looked concerned, but decided to stay away.

With a breathy laugh, England re-read his index. The spell he had cast could not be reversed with another spell; however it would only last for a day. When the sun rose tomorrow, both he and Norway would return to their proper forms. England sighed with relief. All she had to do was avoid seeing anyone and no one would know the stupid mistake she had made.

She was about to reach for the phone to call Norway and inform him of the good news, when a knock sounded at his door. Icy fear gripped her heart and her eyes widen at the voice that carried through the living room.

"England? Dude you in? Germany said you were sick, you need some help?"

America! Oh no no no no no! England's mind screamed. She – HE froze to the spot, not daring to breathe too loudly in case America heard.

"Dude you home?" America called again, his fists pounding on England's front door.

Of all the fucking days he has to become considerate, that brat! Wait... he can't get in, he doesn't have a key! Oh thank goodness for that! He should get bored and go home after a few minutes. Yes that's right. Calm down, he can't get in and see you like this, England told himself. Slowly he closed his index and slid it underneath the sofa, not taking his eyes from the direction of front door. Several moments passed. Sweat broke out on England's forehead and his heart thudded against his chest.

A click sounded. England's front door swung open.

"Good thing I know where the spare key is hidden huh?" America's voice trailed as he congratulated himself. England smacked her hand to her face; of course! She had told America were the spare key was last week, after he had missed his plane home and needed to spend the night somewhere.

Panic coursed through her body as England wrapped her cloak tighter and gathered her hair into the hood, despite how grimy she felt. She grabbed a box of tissues and pulled out a handful, scrunching them up as if they were used. She gulped down some of her cold tea with a grimace and lay down on her sofa, hoping to give the illusion she was genuinely ill. Her heart still thundered against her ribcage and a cold sweat broke out on her back. She hugged her knees to her chest and coughed slightly, trying to practice her 'hoarse, whispery, ill-sounding voice.'

"England, there you are!"

Sighing through his nose, England raised his hood. America stood leaning against the doorjamb with arms and legs crossed. He wore his usual outfit, tanned uniform and bomber jacket, coupled with an inane grin. England's headache grew at the sight of him. She - HE tried not to jump as America made his way towards her, his grin switching to a concerned frown. He reached out a hand and placed it on her covered forehead.

"America, go away," England whispered. "I only have a cold; it's nothing to be worried about. Leave me alone."

Take the hint and go away! England wanted to scream, but kept her thoughts inside. That last thing she needed was to arouse America's suspicions.

"Don't be stupid England," America said loudly, making England's headache worse. "You missed a mandatory meeting, so you must be dying. Wait..." America wrinkled his nose and sniffed close to England's face, making her panic more and cower into the sofa. "Jeez you stink England! Were you drinking last night?"

England shook her – HIS head instead of trusting his voice. America huffed, stood back and placed his hands on his hips. He was scowling.

"Don't lie, you were drinking weren't you?" he said as he stepped closer, scrutinizing her. England pulled her cloak even tighter and tried to bury her face into the cushion. "What was it this time? Whiskey? Port? Rum?"

"...Finnish vodka," England muttered into her cushion using her deepest voice. It was passable.

"Finnish vodka?" America repeated with shock. England winced at his voice. "Where did you get that stuff from? You know that stuff is stronger than Russia's vodka right? You never change do you?"

"OK America I get it," England said hoarsely, raising her face from the cushion. "Can you tone it down you git? You're so fucking loud as usual."

"So you don't have a cold, you're just hung over?" America asked, ignoring England. When she nodded, America tsked at her.

Before America could continue, there was a knock at England's front door. England was both relieved and horrified. Her heart leapt into her mouth as her front door swung open – no doubt that idiot America had forgotten to close it properly! She prayed with all her might that it was someone who could assess the situation and take America away.

"Bonjour? Angleterre?"

Oh for fuck's sake, England cursed inwardly, smacking a hand onto her face. I'm doomed.

"Hey England, you in?"

Prussia as well... fan-fucking-tastic...

"Hey guys, whatcha doing here?" America asked, smiling inanely again as France and Prussia stepped into the living room. It was almost as if he had expected them.

Both France and Prussia had been inside England's home before, but they still inspected it as if surveying a new property they were buying. They looked bored and uninterested; Prussia even kicked the skirting board as he stuck his hands in his pockets. France had a little more tact, settling for a disgusted sniff and folding his arms. Had England been in his usual form, he would have kicked them out of his house – literally!

"Romano snapped at Spain again," Prussia said with a bored tone, "so Antonio got drunk and was last seen streaking through this area. We thought we'd better find him. And take some pictures," he added with a grin. France proceeded to elbow him in the ribs.

"What he means is we came to see our Angleterre to make sure he was alright. For him to miss a meeting like that, he must be on his deathbed... and I couldn't miss that." He smiled sarcastically at England, who glared back.

France narrowed his blue eyes, a look of confusion settling over him. England's pulse jumped as she followed France's gaze. He could tell something was wrong.

"Why would Spain be here?" America asked, taking a seat in England's other chair. Prussia shrugged in response; he had noticed France's puzzlement. He followed France's gaze, his crimson eyes settling on England. Sweat popped onto England's forehead again and she squirmed under the double scrutiny. It was only a matter of time before she – HE was discovered.

"Something is... different about you England," France stated. England gulped as he stepped towards her, her pulse racing. "Why are you wearing that cloak?"

"I'm cold," she lied, her voice croaking. She tried to sink further into her sofa to no avail.

"But there's sweat pouring down your face," France countered, "and you're bright red." He knelt down in front of England, his face inches from hers. He looked stern and focused, as if trying to work out what was different. England flinched under his gaze. "Why don't we take off that cloak hmm?"

"No its fine!" England breathed, clutching it tighter.

"Take it off Eyebrows," Prussia snapped from the doorway. "What you got to hide?"

France smirked at Prussia's words and England felt her stomach become lined with lead. France grabbed the bottom of her cloak and tugged.

"No don't!" England shrieked.

Everyone's eyes grew wide at the sound of her – HIS girly voice. France yanked at the cloak, tugging the material away. Mouths dropped open at the sight of England's new form, her hair cascading down her shoulders. Shame welled up within England and his face turned bright red, his mouth a thin line. He spread his hands as best he could, trying to cover as much of his body as possible.

"England... you're a...girl?" America stammered from his seat.

"It's not what you think-"

"I knew you were a pervert England, but this is ridiculous!" Prussia stated. He ran up and stood next to France, blocking America from England's view. "Turning yourself into a girl just for that?"

"No, it's not like that!" England cried, kneeling up on the sofa. "I was with Norway last night and we were messing around with our magic. We drank too much and things got out of hand."

"Angleterre, why couldn't you do this when we were together?" France sighed. "I would have loved to please you in this form-"

"Weren't you listening?" England snapped angrily, aiming a slap at France's face. He dodged and smirked all the more as he caught her wrist in his hand. He leaned in closer, making England's skin crawl. He wore an expression she knew too well.

"You mean you didn't just fancy being a girl for a little while?" Prussia asked. He grabbed England's other hand and began to force her back down onto the sofa. "Are these real?"

"Don't you dare!" England screamed. Prussia ignored her and unceremoniously groped one of England's breasts. England froze, unable to move, sweat trickling down her body and her mind blank. She glance at Prussia's hand, then back up at his face. He was smirking.

"Wow they are real," Prussia commented. England's anger boiled over and she proceeded to kick him in the shin.

"Get your fucking hands off!" she screamed. Prussia winced and clutched his shin, but didn't let go of her wrist. England was about to kick him again, when she felt a hand slide under her shirt. She aimed a kick at France, but he was too close for it to do any damage.

"I think you're lying mon amie," France said as his hand trailed up and down her side, lust in his eyes. "I think you did this on purpose just to tease me."

"I'm serious you idiot!" England shrieked, lashing out with her legs. France grinned as her voice jumped an entire octave. She glared at him, but he grinned all the more and snaked his hand further along her waist. "Call Norway and check for yourselves. He's a girl too; I'm not making this up!"

Suddenly, something slammed onto England's table, sending her teacup to the floor. All three looked over to see America with his fists on the coffee table. With grim determination, he stood and walked over to England's telephone. All eyes were on him as he dialled Norway's number – how did he know it off by heart? When England raised an eyebrow in question, he grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

"I'm a hero right? I have to know everyone's numbers in case there's an emergency," he said, switching the phone to his other ear.

They all frowned. "Typical Ame-"

"Dude Norway!" America interrupted loudly, smiling inanely into the phone. His smile dropped. "Oh Denmark? Hi it's America. Listen, is Norway a girl?" Silence. "Yeah a girl," he repeated.

I'll have to make this up to Nor, England thought as she watched America twirl the phone cable. She assumed Denmark had gone to find Norway to make her speak with America and confirm the embarrassing story. England doubted Norway wanted to reveal her current state to Denmark – he could be so troublesome at times. Forgive me Nor for dropping you in the deep end.

England wrenched her wrists out of France and Prussia's grip, scowling as she checked them for injuries. Both chuckled at her and leaned forwards. Sensing their intent, England pushed herself up and over the back of her sofa, landing ungracefully on the floor but out of their reach. Mercifully, her shirt survived the impact.

Suddenly, a loud shriek sounded from the phone, followed by a loud blast and what sounded like crashing saucepans. America looked startled, but started to laugh.

"He is? Cool, guess England wasn't making it up huh. Yeah he's a girl too, but only for a day. Yeah it wears off when the sun rises tomorrow or at least that what his book says. Cool, talk to ya later bro."

"That's a shame," someone muttered. England couldn't tell who it was.

"Dude, what you doing on the floor?" America asked, reaching over to pull England up. She accepted his hand and got to her feet, conscious of the way her shirt was pulling; she could feel the buttons threatening to pop.

The others must have noticed that she was worried. All three men's unblinking gaze was fixed on England. America's face had turned slightly red, but France and Prussia were openly leering. England was getting irritated; just because she was a girl now didn't mean they could stare so wantonly. She was still England, just in a different form!

Suddenly, America shrugged off his jacket and pulled off his T-shirt. France and Prussia gasped – and smirked at America's naked chest – as America, without warning tugged his T-shirt down over England's head. England's outrage was muffled as she was manhandled into America's large white T-shirt.

"There," America said, moving back to admire his handiwork. "That should fit you better."

England blushed at his kindness. "Erm...yes. Thank you America." It was big enough to cover any embarrassing accidents, should they happen. England blushed even more when she saw his rippling muscles.

For goodness sake, get a grip, England thought as she turned a darker shade of red. Just because you're a girl now doesn't mean you should let these hormones win! You're England, snap out of this girlishness!

"Aw so cute," France cooed, clasping his hands. "You two look perfect together. Big brother might just get a little jealous. "

"It's gross," Prussia said, pretending to wretch onto the floor. "Just get a room and fuck why don't you?"

"Prussia!" England snapped.

"OK guys, time to go," said America, somehow managing to read the situation. He ushered France and Prussia to the front door, despite their protests. "Don't you have to go and find Antonio?"

"Yeah I guess we'd better," Prussia sighed, grabbing France by the sleeve of his coat. He gave a rough tug and pulled France out.

"Enjoy yourselves," France said, wiggling his eyebrows as the door closed.

"That guy is such a creep," America said, shivering. "How did you put up with him all those years?"

"Just... don't ask."