"Well, I'd better get this over with," Harry resolved as he made his way over to the staircase that led to the girls' dorms. He slowly made his way up the darkened stairs and noted, gratefully, that there were signs on the doors telling the years of the dormitory residents.
"Heh. This is going to be easy," Harry whispered to himself as he eased through the door to the fifth year girls' room. He noted that the room was laid out exactly like the boys' dorm, well, there was no West Ham poster, but in the same spot was a poster for a boy band called the "Wizards of Desire" whose members each probably used more hair gel than Gilderoy Lockhart. Harry quickly scanned the room and saw only one empty bed. He was making his way over to Hermione's trunk to get pajamas when two glowing eyes flashed at him from the bedspread.
"How can they sleep like this?" Hermione groaned. "All this snoring is driving me crazy!" She was still angry with Harry for not letting her tell anyone, but he did have a point; Malfoy would never let him live it down. But I need to tell someone, Hermione thought. That's when it hit her. "Sirius", she whispered. Yeah, Sirius would know what to do. That's it, she decided. On the next Hogsmeade trip she'd go talk to Sirius, and, she ruefully noted, buy some earplugs.
Ron, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. "I'm famous, rich, and, well, I'm not handsome but I'm famous enough that it doesn't matter." Ron smiled to himself. "For once I'm not going be in the background; I'm going to be somebody," Ron thought as he drifted off to sleep, still smiling.
"What the..." gasped Harry. "Oh, it's only you, Crookshanks." He sighed with relief. "You scared me half to death."
This isn't a problem, thought Harry. Crookshanks knows me; it'll be fine. But as Harry neared the bed Crookshanks hissed and his fur started to rise. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Harry. He knows I'm not Hermione, Harry thought. He whispered "It's okay Crookshanks, don't be frightened," in what he hoped was a soothing voice.
"Can't you keep that cat quiet, Hermione?" Parvati mumbled sleepily. "And don't get him mad. You know what happens when he's mad."
"Sorry, I don't know what's gotten into him," Harry said quietly as he slowly inched toward the cat. "You're a good kitty, Crookshanks. I won't hurt you," Harry murmured, and it seemed to be working. Crookshanks stopped hissing and his hair started to go down again. "Good boy, you're a very goo--AAAAHHHHH" Crookshanks leapt off the bed with surprising speed for a cat that large and latched himself onto Harry's face. "GET OFF ME," Harry screamed as he tried to peel off the ferocious feline. Unfortunately, the harder he pulled, the tighter Crookshanks clung to his head.
"Hermione, what's--OH MY GOD!" Parvati exclaimed. "Quick, Lavender, Standard Cat Removal, Plan Alpha."
Harry felt a number of hands grab the cat and pull. Finally, they managed to get Crookshanks off of Harry's face, but it took both girls to hold the cat, which still hissed and scratched at the air.
"Quick, open the door," Lavender cried.
Harry threw the door open, the girls hurled Crookshanks out of the room, and Harry slammed the door shut. Without the orange demon, the room seemed oddly quiet. All Harry could think about were the questions that the girls were bound to ask: Why did Crookshanks attack you? Crookshanks likes Hermione; who are you? He just knew he was going to be found out.
"Hermione, why on EARTH did you wake up that cat! You know what he's like! Why do you keep him around? God! Just use some of that skin fixer cream and go to bed; we need to sleep."
"Uh," Harry asked, "where's the cream?"
"In the Crookshanks care kit. You know that, you made it yourself." Parvati looked at him impatiently.
Harry didn't respond; he didn't want to draw ANY more attention to himself. He looked around the room again as the girls were climbing back into bed. A large white box with a picture of a cat on it sat on the dresser. "Well I guess this is it" Harry thought. Harry's theory was confirmed when he saw that the cat on the box had horns and a barbed tail. He quickly opened it to clean himself up; he really wanted to get to bed.
"Why am I in Harry's bed?" Ron thought as he woke up. Then the events of last night came flooding back to him. "Oh yeah," Ron remembered, "I AM Harry." He smiled up at the ceiling. No matter how often he thought about it, the possibilities still amazed him. "I don't think I ever slept this well at Hogwarts," Ron thought. "Even Harry's bed is better than the lumpy old mattress I sleep on. This is going to be a great day."
Ron practically leaped out of bed and scrambled over to Harry's trunk to get some clothes. He knew he should be quiet because no one else was awake, but he was too excited to care. As he raced down the stairs to the common room Ron realized he was the only one awake in the tower.
Humph. Harry always has something interesting to do. I think I'll head down to the Great Hall and bask in popularity, Ron thought as he clambered out the portal.
He was in such a rush to get to the great Hall that he missed one of the trick stairs and had to take about a minute to get his leg out. When he finally reached the Great Hall Ron realized just how early it was. The hall was empty, and as he looked at the ceiling all he saw was the predawn sky.
"Who cares," Ron grinned. "I can wait."
At a much saner hour Hermione peeked over covers on her bed and saw Dean's West Ham poster on the wall in front of her, and more of Neville than she had EVER wanted to see. She quickly scrambled back under the sheets and tried to keep from hyperventilating.
"It wasn't a dream," she said to herself, "but you're still okay. You're just in Ron's body. Oh GOD I'm in Ron's body!" She gave a low moan.
"Ron, are you okay in there?" Neville asked.
"Yeah, umm I'm fine, I just ate a little too much at dinner." she replied.
"Well okay, if you're sure."
"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks for the concern, Neville."
Concern, she thought. Ron never says concern. I have to start acting like Ron, Hermione reminded herself. She wanted to peek over the covers to see if Neville had noticed her slipup, but the fear of seeing Neville like that a second time was too much. She just huddled under the covers and waited for him to leave. When Hermione finally heard the door open and close, she looked out of bed and saw she was the only one left in the room. She opened Ron's trunk, screwed her eyes shut, threw on some old clothes (probably Bill's hand-me-downs, from the look of them), and strapped on his large shoes.
Going downstairs was a painstaking process for Hermione; she still wasn't used to moving in Ron's body. When she reached the common room she saw Harry sitting on the love seat across from Fred and George, who were staring intently at him. When she saw Fred and George she almost fell over laughing. Intent on giving parental advice, they dressed like rejects from Masterpiece Theatre. They wore smoking jackets and fuzzy pink slippers. When Harry saw Hermione he motioned desperately with his eyes that she should go back upstairs, but it was too late.
"Ronald, old boy," George called as Fred blew into a bubble pipe. "We'd like to have a chat with you two kids."
"I don't have time for this," Hermione replied, trying to walk past them.
George grabbed her arm. "Oh but you do," he countered, "unless you want Harry to find out that you dressed up like him for Halloween when you were seven."
"I don't remember that," Hermione gasped.
"Oh but you did," Fred grinned maliciously. "And you should see the pictures of ickle Ronnie, he looks so cute!" Fred confided.
Hermione sank onto the loveseat and glanced at Harry. He looked absolutely horrified. She turned to Fred and George, realizing that she might never again have such a golden opportunity to get dirt on Ron. "I swear I don't remember a thing. You'd better remind me. Don't forget the details."
"Are you sure you don't remember, Ron? It was your favorite costume," George said, looking confused. Fred took out a manila envelope and slid it across the table. "You looked so sweet in it! Here, Hermione, you can keep these safe. Don't bother trying to get rid of them, Ron. We have the negatives." George blew into his bubble pipe, looking smug.
Harry ripped it open and sure enough, inside were pictures of Ron, a lot shorter and with more freckles, but definitely Ron, in a pointy hat with a greasepaint lightning bolt painted on his forehead.
Beside her, Harry made a choking noise. George pulled a silver flask from an inside pocket of his smoking jacket and held it out. Harry shook his head and George grinned at Hermione. "When we dress up, we don't fool around," he said.
"Are you sure that's a picture of Ron?" Harry still looked a bit sick. "It could be Percy, or one of you."
"Of course it's Ron," George replied, "Harry Potter has been the most popular Halloween costume in the wizarding world for thirteen years straight. Ron cried when mum wouldn't let him wear it two years in a row."
Harry stared at the picture of Ron as the image of thousands of little wizards and witches dressed as him flashed through his mind.
"Anyway, enough fun stuff," Fred said, his eyes twinkling. "Now it's time for business."
"Which I guess would be talking about fun stuff," George grinned.
"George, you'll give them ideas." Fred admonished. "This is a very serious conversation. We have to guide these two properly, or Hermione might end up with thirty kids and no husband."
"WHAT!" Hermione cried.
"Now, we'll start at the beginning," Fred continued, talking over her outburst. "When two people meet and fall in love."
"Actually, Fred, I think they're past that."
"Good, because I have to go meet Angelina soon. Well then I'll keep it short. Hermione, whatever our hormone crazed brother may say, no matter how much he pours on the Weasley charms, you must resist and make his life miserable. Okay?"
Fred looked over at Harry, who just nodded, knowing that if he opened his mouth he'd laugh like he did last night. Hermione glared at Fred and George with murder in her eyes.
"And Ron, if we ever find out you treated Hermione badly, you'll pray mum gets to you first," George added.
"Well, George, I think that about wraps it up."
"Oh, I quite agree."
"Lets leave these two to think about what we've said."
With that the twins stood up and walked up the stairs to their room and for the second time in as many days Harry fell off the loveseat laughing. Hermione, on the other hand, was still feeling murderous.
"I can't believe them! As if I'd ever fall for the Weasley charms!"
"Well, there are seven of them," Harry gasped between laughs.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"We know Mr. Weasley must be charming!"
After Harry had recovered and Hermione had calmed down, the two of them wandered down to the Great Hall. The first thing they noticed was the large clump of people gathered around the Gryffindor table.
They looked at each other and Harry shook his head.
"Ah, let him have a little fun. Who could it hurt?"
Hermione shrugged. "It's your body."
As they made their way around the crowd they saw Colin Creevey emerge and make his way over to them, his ever-present camera dangling around his thin neck.
"Hey, Ron?" Colin called eagerly. "Is it true you saved Harry from Voldemort last summer?"
"What?" Harry asked.
"Didn't they tell you about it, Hermione?" Colin asked. "Apparently Ron risked his life and held off twelve Death Eaters to keep Harry safe until Dumbledore could reach them!"
Hermione smiled sweetly at Harry, "No harm, eh?"
"I'll kill him," Harry said gritting his teeth.
"What are you guys talking about?" Colin asked, slowly backing away.
"Nothing, Colin, just please leave us alone for a minute," Hermione told him.
Colin scurried to another part of the table, nervously looking over his shoulder at Harry and Hermione.
"No, I won't kill him, I'll do something worse. Much worse."
"Harry, you sound like Malfoy!" Hermione hissed.
"Yeah, but Ron's spreading lies about me, and, well, they're not true!"
"Well lies usually aren't true, are they?" she asked sarcastically. "Lets go talk to him."
"Fine."
The two of them pushed through the jumble of people, trying to reach Ron. The crowd wasn't as deep as it looked, and soon the pair made it to the center.
Harry's jaw dropped. "What the HELL are you doing?"