A/N: once again, sorry for the late update guys! Hope you all enjoy (: leave a review please :D it kinda motivates me to write faster ;)

"Madam, please," pleaded Poppy. "Master Malfoy is being very upset with Poppy if Madam does not come down".

"I'm sorry Poppy, but please tell Master Malfoy that he does not own me, and I do not have to listen to whatever he says," she said stubbornly, huffing as she plopped down onto the chair in front of the vanity mirror, pulling her bathrobe tight around her body. "And tell him that he can't lay a finger on you," she added as an afterthought. She noticed a curly tendril sticking out of the towel she wrapped around her head and hurriedly tucked it back in.

"Ooh," squeaked the little House Elf in delight. "Is Madam trying a new look for Madam's hair?" he asked excitedly. Hermione nodded nervously at him. "Er, sure," she replied, turning to face the mirror again. "Let's go with that," she muttered to herself as she slowly unwrapped the towel, running her fingers through her dark brown curls.

"What do you think?" asked Hermione, turning her head to the elf.

"Madam is looking wonderful," Poppy replied. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Honestly," she said, raising an eyebrow. Poppy squeaked nervously.

"Madam... Madam is looking like... Madam's head was attacked by Kneazles," he said hesitantly, quickly throwing his hands over his head protectively. Hermione blinked. "Poppy... Poppy is not surprised that Madam has been trying to hide Madam's hair for the past few weeks..."

"Um..." Hermione trailed off. Was her hair really that bad? "Well, I must applaud you for your honesty, Poppy," she said somewhat kindly. Poppy peeked at her through his fingers, his large orange eyes shining. "Really?" he asked timidly. Hermione held back a small laugh.

"Yes, Poppy, really," she said. "Actually, I'm quite proud of you. Although next time, try being a little less blunt," she chuckled. Hesitantly, Poppy withdrew his hands away from his face and beamed at her.

"Madam is proud?" he asked, blinking his large orbs at her.

"Yes," she smiled. Poppy thrust his chest out proudly. "Poppy is going to tell Master Malfoy that Madam is doing whatever Madam pleases to do," he said, giving her a toothy grin. "You go do that," she replied, laughing. With that, Poppy strutted out of the room and disappeared with a loud crack as he snapped his fingers.

Hermione let out a sigh. Her hair had already turned back to how it had looked on her old body. It was only a matter of time... She looked at herself in the mirror again. Her hair wasn't really that bad... Was it? She glanced at it, grimacing at the way her curls frazzled, giving her the appearance not unlike an afro. She grabbed her wand off of the table and pointed it to her head, casting an anti-frizz charm. She closed her eyes as she heard the small zap from wand and then the slight sizzle that came from her hair as the spell settled.

She opened her eyes.

Her screams echoed across the Manor grounds, sending flocks of birds scattering across the sky as they all squawked and chirped in alarm at the terrible banshee-like scream.

"Pansy?" Draco's voice called out frantically as he Apparated to the room. Panicking, Hermione threw a pillowcase over her head and sent the door slamming shut in Draco's face with her wand. He opened the door forcefully and burst inside, his wand drawn, ready to attack at the slightest hint of danger. He stopped scanning the room as his eyes rested on Hermione's form.

"Er... Pansy?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you wearing that pillowcase on your head?"

"Because I want to," huffed Hermione, crossing her arms across her chest. Draco shook his head slowly, sighing.

"Pansy, stop being so silly. We have to be at the Ministry's bloody banquet in about five minutes, and you aren't even dressed yet!" he exclaimed, annoyed.

"I don't want to go," replied Hermione coolly as she sat on the bed, facing the other way childishly.

"Do you think I want to?" replied Draco. "We have to be there. The Minister has personally requested our presence at the bloody banquet, and the entire ministry is going to be there. It would be social suicide if we don't show up," he said the last sentence slowly, trying to provoke her into going. Hermione held back a scoff. Of course Pansy would fly up at a chance to flaunt herself around at a social event.

"Why do you keep cursing at the banquet so much?" asked Hermione in a lighter tone, ignoring whatever else he had said. Draco looked confused. "How do I keep cursing at the banquet?" he asked. Hermione exhaled heavily. "You keep saying "bloody banquet". If you keep cursing it so much, then why do you care so much about whether we go or not?"

"How am I cursing the banquet? It's a bloody banquet!"

"See? There you go again! You cursed at it!"

"No, literally. It's a Bloody Banquet. That's the theme for the event," said Draco obviously. "It's being thrown in honour of vampires, duh."

"Duh? Did you really just say "duh"?" said Hermione.

"I heard a couple of kids saying it in Hogsmeade the other day," said Draco defensively. "It's cool," he huffed. Hermione shook her head, exasperated.

"Whatever," she muttered under her breath.

After a few moments of silence, Draco let out a heavy sigh. "If you don't get dressed in this instant," he said dangerously. "I will have no choice but to dress you myself." His threat was met with an icy glare.

"Okay then," said Draco as he walked towards her. "It's clear you've made your decision". He stopped a few feet away from her and put his hand on his chin thoughtfully. "Ah," he muttered, waving his wand at her. Hermione grudgingly glanced at herself before she almost jumped up in horror.

"WHAT AM I WEARING EXACTLY?"

"What? I think it looks very nice," said Draco with his nose up in the air, taking pride in his choice of wardrobe for his wife. Hermione looked miserably at her outfit. It looked like a cross between what an elf and a clown would wear. She was wearing a pointy green hat with a matching dress, complete with oversized colourful clown shoes and large orange fuzzy buttons on the bodice of her dress. She lifted the pillowcase slightly to see her face in the mirror

"This is what you call makeup?" she asked dangerously. "I look like some sort of drag queen!" She cried, eyeing the hideous shade of green that were painted on her lids and the sloppily applied eyeliner that outlined her eyes. She pursed her now blood red lips, her face paling underneath the heavily applied foundation. Her cheeks were sporting two round circles of red blush, making her appear quite ridiculous.

"Well, you had your choice," shrugged Draco in reply. Hermione glanced at her reflection in the mirror again. It was all too much. She couldn't help it; she blinked back tears. "But I don't want to go," she whimpered. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Too bad. You're going, and that's final."

"B-but I'm..." Hermione's words trailed into a quiet mumble.

"What was that? I couldn't quite catch what you said."

"I'm BALD," she cried, tearing the pillowcase off of her head. Draco blinked as the sun's rays bounced off of her head and struck him directly in his cornea.

"MY EYES!" he cried, his voice riddled in pain as he clutched them, shielding them from the menacing rays. Hermione, thinking that he was covering his eyes from how terrible she looked, burst into tears, throwing her head under the covers.

"No, no, baby please stop crying," pleaded Draco at the sound of her crying, removing his hands from his eyes. He put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "It doesn't look so bad. Just come out from under the covers and let me see what we can do about your hair," he coaxed. Hermione sniffed. "Really?" she asked, he voice muffled from underneath all the layers she had her head buried under.

"Yes," Draco reassured her. Hermione slowly drew her head out from under the covers. Unfortunately, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds at that instant, its rays striking her head once more and reflecting into his eyes again.

"IT BURNS! IT BURNS!"He wailed, throwing his arm across his face. Hermione glared at him, crossing her arms angrily. "Oh, come now, it can't be so bad that it burns your eyes," she scoffed.

"Poppy!" Draco cried in anguish. "Close the darned blinds! Draw the curtains! OH IT BURNS! IT BURNS!"

Hermione sniffs turned into wails as she threw herself once more under the covers of the bed.

"Oh Merlin," he cursed, shaking his head. Taking care to avoid her bare head, he eyed the clumps of hair that were on the floor curiously.

"Er, Pansy?" Draco asked. "Since when was your hair brown and curly?"

Hermione stopped crying abruptly and lifted her head up. "Er, after-effects of the anti-frizz spell?" she suggested. Draco sighed, shaking his head again. "The things women do to themselves..." he trailed off sympathetically. "I'm glad we men never do any of those ridiculous things women do. It's just mad..."

He was about to continue his rant when Hermione's glare cut him off. He grinned sheepishly at her and then Accio'd a book of hair spells from the library. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"What?" asked Draco.

"You have a book of spells on hair?"

"How else do you think my hair is this lustrous?" said Draco proudly, puffing his chest out as he ran his fingers through his white-blonde hair. Hermione rolled her eyes. Typical.

After an hour of coaxing Hermione to get ready for the banquet and changing her clothes and fixing her hair, the couple finally made it to the banquet. He had managed to bring back Pansy's straight black hair, although in a few moments it changed back to the frizzy, curly haired mess that Hermione had spent her whole life trying to tame. Whatever magic that was keeping her in Pansy's body, it was obviously too strong for any normal spell.

Grudgingly, Hermione clutched at Draco's arm, her nose up in the air in the most Pansy-like manner she could muster as she picked the tail of her long silvery gown off of the floor to keep it from trailing behind her. She had all of her bushy hair pinned back into a bun on the top of her head, adorned by a few green emeralds here and there. Draco stared at his wife in wonder. She always looked so pretty... He was so lucky. He straightened his tie that sat snugly at the base of his neck and readjusted his dress robes, looking around at the other guests. Seeing Hermione at unease, he led her to the bar.

"One Firewhiskey for me, and a Butterbeer for the lady," Draco ordered the busboy. He nodded quickly at Draco and scurried away, shortly returning with their drinks. Hermione opened her mouth in protest.

"I can very well order any drink that I want for myself," said Hermione. Draco sighed. "We're trying to conceive, remember?" he told her as he felt the burn of Hermione's glare as he put the mug of Butterbeer in her hand. "It's best to keep the alcohol levels low." Draco spotted a few of his friends from his department and excused himself from his wife, calling out Blaise's name across the hall.

Hermione sighed, twirling in her chair slightly as she stirred her mug of Butterbeer lazily with her wand.

"Er, Hermione," a low voice said her name. Startled by the use of her real name, Hermione twirled around to face the source of the voice, only to see Ron standing apologetically behind her. She narrowed her eyes at him and glared.

"What do you want, Ronald Weasley?" she sneered in a rather Draco-like way. Ron blinked, surprised at the degree of harshness in her tone.

"I, er, want to explain what happened the other day," he said slowly, watching her to see her reaction. Hermione shook her head, taking a large sip before answering him.

"That was over two weeks ago," she said somewhat angrily. "You decide to fess up now? I'm your fiancée, Ronald," she hissed. "No matter who's body I am residing in, I'm still your fiancée. I'm still Hermione. Your Hermione," she said quietly, her voice thickening. Ron trained his eyes on a rather interesting spot on the marble floor, pulling at the collar of his shocking red dress robes.

"I know, 'Mione," he said quietly. "It's not what you think. Just give me a chance to explain," he pleaded. Hermione glared at him again.

"Okay, fine. Explain," she offered after a moment of silence. Ron's eyes slightly widened. He hadn't been counting on her to let him explain.

"Er, that is to say... Um, she wasn't.. Uh..."

"Spit it out," Hermione hissed at him again. Ron's ears reddened to a violent shade of crimson, rivalling the colour of his hair. She took in a deep breath. There had to be a logical explanation to all of this. Right? Right? She looked at Ron, this time her eyes full of desperation. She didn't want to lose the man she loved...

"I... You... You're with Malfoy," Ron finally offered. "It's too much for me to handle." Hermione tapped her foot on the footrest of her seat. "Too much for you to handle?" she scoffed. "How do you think it is for me, Ronald? Do you think I chose to be with him? Do you think I... I want to be with-" she cut herself off, her voice thickening too much to continue. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, to no avail. A few tears leaked out of her eyes. Ron stood there in front of her, gaping.

Finally, he took her hand and led her to an isolated spot in the hall. He passed Harry and Ginny, not looking up to meet Harry's questioning glance at him. She could feel Draco's stare as Ron gripped her hand tighter. Ron put both of his hands on her shoulders and looked at her in the eye, at a loss for words.

"I think," said Ron after a few moments. "I think that it's best we don't..." he trailed off, not able to bring himself to complete his sentence. Hermione remained silent, understanding what he was trying to say. The wedding was off. They were off.

"Why?" she asked desperately, ignoring the tears sliding freely down her cheeks. Ron bit his lip, struggling to come up with something to say. "Harry told me," he said. "You're going to be gone in two weeks.I... I lost you once," he whispered. "I'm sorry, but I can't put myself through the pain of losing you again. I'm sorry," he repeated.

"No, no," she contradicted him, placing both of her hands on top of his. "There could be a way to fix this," she said. "You never know, I can try to find out as much as I can, and Harry-"

"'Mione," Ron interrupted her. "I'm not... I'm not interested in you anymore. I don't love you anymore. There's someone else".

Hermione blinked, her jaw slack.

"W-what? Why?"

"I don't know," Ron admitted, staring hard at the floor. "I just don't anymore."

Hermione stared at him. She felt her heart shatter at his words; the way he had said them so coldly... so abruptly. "Someone else?" she repeated slowly. Ron nodded, staring hard at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. She gulped back a sob, putting her hand to her mouth, her eyes screwing up tightly. Ron's eyes teared up, unbeknownst to her, his clear blue orbs glistening in the light of the hall as he felt the witch in front of him emotionally crumple.

"And come on, 'Mione," he continued. He had to continue. "You can't deny that you don't have any feelings for Malfoy either," he said, closing his eyes, not wanting to hear her answer. He bit his lip at her silence. Lifting his head up, he stared right into her eyes. Her beautiful, unfamiliar eyes.

"I know you. I've known you ever since we've met on that day on the Hogwarts Express," he said, a small smile playing on his lips as he recalled the eleven year old bushy haired witch walking into the small compartment in search of Neville Longbottom's toad, and ended up showing him up at fixing Harry's glasses, a spell which had been far more impressive than his spell to turn his fat rat yellow. "You are smitten by him," he said finally, holding his chin up. Hermione began to shake her head when Ron placed both of his hands on her face.

"He can make you happier than I can," he told her. "Don't deny it to yourself that you don't have even the slightest bit of affection for him." Hermione gulped again, more fat tears rolling down her cheeks and dropping onto his hands.

"Is there a problem here?" Draco's voice came from behind them. Hermione turned around, half relieved to find Draco standing there. She sniffed and shook her head. "Stay out of this, Malfoy," shot Ron.

"I don't think I will," he shot back, narrowing his eyes. "And pray tell me, why is my wife crying?" he sneered at the red haired Gryffindor. Hermione lifted her bloodshot eyes to meet his. "It's fine, Draco," she told him quietly. "Weasley," she emphasized her use of Ron's last name. "Was just leaving." Draco raised his eyebrows in alarm.

"Pansy," he whispered. "There's something wrong with your eyes," he said quietly, his expression ridden with lines of worry.

Hermione let out a small sigh. "Draco, it's normal for people's eyes to go red after they've had a bit of a cry," she said. Draco shook his head. "I know that, I'm not a moron," he huffed at her, Ron's existence momentarily forgotten.

"Then what?" she asked. Draco grabbed her shoulders and took a closer look at her eyes.

"Your eyes are-"

"'Mione! One of your eyes are blue and the other is brown!" exclaimed Ron suddenly from behind them.

"Weasel's right, Pansy. Your eyes are- wait," Draco cut himself off. He swirled around to face Ron. "What did you call her? He asked .He glanced sheepishly at Hermione, silently asking for help. She gaped, her mouth hanging open.

Draco glanced at her confusedly before shaking his head. "Weasley, my wife's name is Pansy" he finally spat at him. "I don't even know how your puny mind came to distinguish her as your dead fiancée. Come on, Pansy. Let's get you home and have your eyes looked at," he said to her, leading her to the entrance of the hall. The pair Disapparated with a loud crack, leaving Ron standing miserably in the hall. He watched the spot where the love of his life had disappeared in the arms of another man, his heart sinking. He had to lie to her. He had to... It was for her own good.

Wasn't it?

Still hate Ron? ;)