Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.

Prompt: Kiss on the nose. Hermione runs into a potion mishap that alters her appearance.

Written for the lovely folk-melody.

Weasley Hair With a Granger Face

Hermione has made a disastrous mistake.

A colossal, humongous, why did I ever trust George Weasley type of mistake.

It all started when she sought out some Sleekeazy to tame her frizzy mane, desperate to find a remedy before the Auror gala she was to attend with Ron that evening. She ran into George in Diagon Alley, and when he thrust a vial into her hands that he insisted would give her the sleek and shiny look she was hoping for, her first instinct was not to trust him.

However, as she checked the time, she realized she had no choice but to go with what he offered, or deal with her mass of curls for the rest of the evening.

Now, she finds herself standing in front of her bathroom mirror, gaping at her reflection that resembles herself, with one stark contrast — her appearance is reminiscent of a Polyjuice Potion gone wrong.

Her hair is just as frizzy as ever, but instead of her usual caramel-colored locks, the color has now transformed into a vibrant shade of red.

She's a ginger.

It's like she's a long lost member of the Weasley clan, with her wild curls being the only remaining signature feature that makes her Hermione.

"George. Weasley." Hermione mutters through gritted teeth. She picks up her wand, murmuring Crinus Muto, groaning when the color of her hair did not transform back to its original state.

Of course not. There must be a temporary lock on all charms used to combat the effects of the product.

"Hermione?"

A knock on the bathroom door makes Hermione's grip on her wand tighten, eyes bulging out as a wave of dread washes over her. What in Merlin's name is she supposed to tell Ron? She's already preparing for him to take the mickey out of her for trusting his brother in the first place.

The knock grows louder again, and she can hear Ron growing impatient. "Hermione, what's taking so long in there?"

After one last failed effort to charm her way out of her situation, Hermione takes a deep, steadying breath before swinging open the door with reluctance.

Ron draws his wand faster than Hermione can blink, pointing it directly at her.

"Who are you?" he demands.

Her heart rate accelerates, not once preparing for the possibility that Ron would be so thrown off by the change in her hair color that he would suspect an intruder.

She slowly lifts her hands in a defensive position. "Hermione Granger. Your fiance."

Ron's extended arm doesn't budge. "Prove your identity."

The corner of her mouth arches up, knowing immediately what to say in order to get him to believe her. "You have a freckle shaped like a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean on your bum."

Ron's eyes widen, his cheeks growing the same shade of auburn as their matching hair color. "It is you. Blimey, what the hell happened?"

"I'd rather not discuss it, thank you," Hermione brushes him off, sliding past him into the sitting area.

"Now hold on a minute." Ron follows behind her, curiosity displayed in his tone. "Did you...voluntarily change your hair color?"

Hermione squeezes her eyes shut, knowing that Ron won't relent until she fesses up. "Not exactly."

Ron's eyes narrow. "Then how exactly does Hermione Granger end up looking more like my sister than my future wife?"

Hermione huffs out a dignified breath, crossing her arms. "We could get married even if we had the same hair color, Ron."

Waving a dismissive hand through the air, he grumbles, "Yeah yeah, I know that. Still doesn't explain the reason for the change."

"Well, you might want to ask your brother!"

Ron's lip part, an airy chuckle escaping his lips. "Which one?"

"Oh, you know which one!" Hermione shrills, pacing the floor.

Ron snorts, once, twice, before doubling over with laughter, clutching his sides. "Of bloody course. I can't believe you fell for it! It's George."

A flash of irritation rolls through her. "Ron! You're supposed to be on my side! I just wanted to sleek down my hair." She gestures towards her curly-haired mess. "How am I supposed to go to the Ministry this evening looking like this?"

"Oi, being a redhead isn't so bad!"

Hermione slumps onto the sofa, moaning into her hands. "I know that. It's just not...me."

"Hey…" Ron's voice is much softer this time, and Hermione feels the weight of the cushions cave in as Ron sits beside her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder. "It'll be alright."

Hermione sits back up, sniffling as she rests her head on Ron's shoulder.

"For future reference, love," Ron whispers, his cheek resting on top of her curls. "It doesn't matter to me if you have brown hair, red hair, short hair, or long hair. You could even be bald for all I care. You're still you. And I'm still me. That's all that matters."

Hermione smiles against his jumper, snuggling even further into his chest. "That's quite sweet, Ron." Her head snaps up with a sudden thought, sending a warning finger in his direction. "Don't use this as an excuse to dye your hair blue now!"

"Why, Hermione," he muses, a teasing glint in his eyes, "I didn't realize you were so vain."

"Oh, shut it."

"Hm…" Ron toys with the red fringe on her forehead. "Now I have an idea of what our child might look like if we have a girl."

Hermione grins from ear to ear, overcome with adoration for the man who's managed to lift her mood with practiced ease. "Yeah?"

Ron leans over, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. "Yeah. Weasley hair with a Granger face."

Weasley hair with a Granger face. Sounds perfect.