48. …Harry hopes Ron has some clothes
Hermione, Harry, and Ginny were enjoying a cup of tea in the Gryffindor Common
Room and ignoring the curious stares of the Creevy Brothers.
"I wonder where Ron went," Ginny inquired, adding four lumps of sugar to her cup.
"Frankly, I don't care at this point. As long as he's safe and in his own body." Hermione
answered. "Oh, sod off," she said unkindly to a first-year student who was listening with
much fascination.
"Well, let's hope he's gone to find clothes." Harry paused. "And he'd better not be
touching my broom, or so help me— "
"I think Ron deserves to use your Firebolt, after all he's been through," Hermione said.
"I agree. Think of all he's been tortured these last few days," Ginny said, and shuddered.
"Sleeping with Malfoy. What could be worse?"
Ron grinned to himself and swallowed the potion. He felt the familiar grinding pain, and
the familiar settling into female shape. He threw off the cloak and settled onto Draco's
bed luxuriously. Draco, for some reason, had a portrait hole that led directly into the
kitchens and had gone to retrieve some food. Little did Draco know that Ron had one vial
of the potion left. He had thought he lost all of it in the swamp.
The portrait, of a rather scantily clad veela, swung open. Draco stepped in, his hands full
of plates of cake and fruit, and gasped.
Ron's mouth dropped open. "You!" he said in a high falsetto.
Draco looked down at himself, grinning wickedly. "Bet you didn't notice when I stole
one vial, did you?" He looked proud of himself. He and Ron both had identical versions
of Blaise's perfect body down to the last perfectly curled black hair – full breasts, long
legs, and taut stomach, all alike. He set the plate of food on his bedside table and hopped
into bed.
"But," Draco concluded, "this does pose a bit of a problem." He looked at Ron's female
form ruefully, feeling a strange warm sensation begin in the pit of his stomach.
"Well…" Ron looked from himself to Draco, thinking. Then it hit him.
He picked up a piece of ripe peach and, grinning wickedly in a fashion that he would
never have been able to pull off four days ago, deposited it on Draco's upper thigh. Draco
gasped.
"You mean?" Draco asked, as comprehension began to dawn on his face.
"Oh, I do," Ron answered, and then pushed Draco down to the bed, covering his neck in
hot kisses. "I do."
THE END
Hermione, Harry, and Ginny were enjoying a cup of tea in the Gryffindor Common
Room and ignoring the curious stares of the Creevy Brothers.
"I wonder where Ron went," Ginny inquired, adding four lumps of sugar to her cup.
"Frankly, I don't care at this point. As long as he's safe and in his own body." Hermione
answered. "Oh, sod off," she said unkindly to a first-year student who was listening with
much fascination.
"Well, let's hope he's gone to find clothes." Harry paused. "And he'd better not be
touching my broom, or so help me— "
"I think Ron deserves to use your Firebolt, after all he's been through," Hermione said.
"I agree. Think of all he's been tortured these last few days," Ginny said, and shuddered.
"Sleeping with Malfoy. What could be worse?"
Ron grinned to himself and swallowed the potion. He felt the familiar grinding pain, and
the familiar settling into female shape. He threw off the cloak and settled onto Draco's
bed luxuriously. Draco, for some reason, had a portrait hole that led directly into the
kitchens and had gone to retrieve some food. Little did Draco know that Ron had one vial
of the potion left. He had thought he lost all of it in the swamp.
The portrait, of a rather scantily clad veela, swung open. Draco stepped in, his hands full
of plates of cake and fruit, and gasped.
Ron's mouth dropped open. "You!" he said in a high falsetto.
Draco looked down at himself, grinning wickedly. "Bet you didn't notice when I stole
one vial, did you?" He looked proud of himself. He and Ron both had identical versions
of Blaise's perfect body down to the last perfectly curled black hair – full breasts, long
legs, and taut stomach, all alike. He set the plate of food on his bedside table and hopped
into bed.
"But," Draco concluded, "this does pose a bit of a problem." He looked at Ron's female
form ruefully, feeling a strange warm sensation begin in the pit of his stomach.
"Well…" Ron looked from himself to Draco, thinking. Then it hit him.
He picked up a piece of ripe peach and, grinning wickedly in a fashion that he would
never have been able to pull off four days ago, deposited it on Draco's upper thigh. Draco
gasped.
"You mean?" Draco asked, as comprehension began to dawn on his face.
"Oh, I do," Ron answered, and then pushed Draco down to the bed, covering his neck in
hot kisses. "I do."
THE END