Author's Note: After undergoing a disastrous encounter with my grandmother, (who has been known to say things like, "Too bad you're my granddaughter since I have to love you"), my self-esteem was too low to write another chapter. Well, I didn't sign up to be a fan fiction slave monkey for nothing! Prepare for corneal invasion as I type this up.

Chapter Four

The Switch-up

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror. Her dress was fairly flattering, with it's gathered waist and sequined bodice concealing the slight curve outwards of her stomach, the roundness of her hips. She had a rather pleasing figure, though the Gryffindor robes deceived it, as did her own modesty.

She put away the H. P. Lovecraft horror novel she was reading and decided to fix her hair instead of reading and glancing at the mirror worriedly. Hermione knew that her hair was either her worst or best feature, depending on the day. Sometimes it was a ferocious lion's mane, spilling down her shoulders like bush fire through haystacks. Other times, it was a sleek ocean of waves. Rarely, it would crimp into lovely ringlets and curls that would hang in gentle springs.

Today, it was more like seaweed after a beached whale rolled over on it. It was flat, lifeless, and peculiarly boat-shaped, as if it couldn't decide between being limp and being a tumbleweed (the most macabre of hair days).

Hermione ran a comb through it, saw that the mess was unaffected, and collapsed on the bed, tears rolling down her cheeks. How could she ever make Harry fall in love with her in four days, if he had Ginny's lustrous spun-fire hair to twirl between his fingers?

*

Colin had dressed hurriedly, tucked his camera under his arm, and then arrived at the dance a good five minutes late. His coat had not been buttoned correctly – he had missed a button from the top and so half his overcoat hung an inch lower than the other half. At least his hair was well-combed and washed, which was more than Hermione would have expected from most of the boys she knew.

Hermione gave Colin a scalding glare as he slipped into the chair beside hers. They were sharing a table with Harry and Ginny. Harry looked a bit ill, and his eyes peered at Hermione and then darted away. It was obvious to Hermione that her presence made him uncomfortable. He was probably too scared to kiss Ginny in front of her; after all, Hermione was sure of the fact that Harry knew about her crush on him.

" Can I take a picture of you guys?" Colin piped up, lifting his new camera.

Harry grinned, glad that Colin had taken the initiative in starting the conversation. He put his arm around Ginny and then smiled at the camera.

Hermione felt her stomach twirl in jealousy and she chose to look down at her plate at that point. When she looked up again, she realized some time had passed. Her spaghetti remained uneaten, a jumble of noodles and red sauce, while everyone at the table was almost done.

Hermione looked around and saw that Ginny and Harry had gone to another table to talk with Seamus and Ron, plus their dates. She looked back down at the table, thinking about whether she would dare herself to put her plan into action.

Colin gave her a worried look, " Are you okay, Hermione? Ginny and Harry just went dancing."

Hermione grinned and replied, " I'm fine. I'll put the powder in their tea. By the end of this evening, you'll be dancing with Ginny."

" Why can't you just ask Harry about his feelings for you?" Colin wondered.

" I can't just ask," Hermione said, " I'm too scared to see his reaction."

Colin shrugged and replied, " What will you do if you don't get him to love you after four days? What will he say when he finds out about the spell? You'll be the laughingstock of the school."

Hermione's stomach turned, but she frowned and dug out the vial of powder from her pocket anyhow. " Honestly, Colin," She muttered, " have some optimism," and with that, she sprinkled a lovely dose of powder into both Harry and Ginny's tea.

Colin shrunk down in his seat, a bit afraid of what was to soon come to him. Having Ginny to himself sounded lovely, but at the same time, he highly doubted he'd make her fall for him. Hermione might have made Harry love her, but there was no way that Ginny would just forget Harry.

Harry and Ginny returned to the table. Harry's eyebrows raised when he saw the flushed look on Hermione's face. " You look like you're a bit feverish," Harry told Hermione with a gentle smile, " Maybe you should go see Madame Pomfrey."

" It's fine," Hermione choked out, her eyes brimming with tears, " I mean, I'm fine," She felt so guilty. Just driven by anticipation and guilt. It was a pretty awful feeling.

Harry shrugged and then took a long, luxurious sip of the hot tea. His eyes closed and he frowned angrily, and uttered, " This must be the most terrible thing I've ever tasted."

Ginny nodded in agreement, " It's atrocious. It must be, like, the wrong order," and with that, she set the cup down and it disappeared, the tea plate turning a mild rose as it blushed in shame. Ginny took a deep breath and suddenly appeared unsteady.

" Ginny?" Hermione asked sweetly, testing the waters before treading in, " Are you fine?"

" Yes, yes, I…" Ginny's eyes met Colin's over the table and she grinned brightly, continuing: " I must have felt weak."

Harry was staring intently at his plate, his eyes sort of glazed-over in thought. He looked up and said, " Maybe I'll take you to the nurse, Ginny?"

Ginny shrugged and replied, " I think I'd like to go dancing right now, Harry."

" I'd rather sit," Harry said finally.

" Oh no! I meant with Colin. Hermione hasn't given him a good dance yet," Ginny teased, and she outstretched her hand to Colin over the dinner table, " Shall we dance?"

Colin was blushing so darkly even his chin was crimson. He nodded, trying to at least regain some of his cool, and stood up. They walked, hand-in-hand, to the dance floor. Harry stared after them, dumb-struck, trying to figure out just what he had witnessed a moment ago. " That's odd," Harry whispered finally, " I could have sworn she blew me off there."

" It's alright, Harry," Hermione said lightly, and then added carefully, " Maybe she would have preferred to go to the dance with my date instead."

" But she asked me," Harry exclaimed, puzzled, " That's why it's so odd. Wouldn't she have asked Colin instead?"

" Are you feeling okay, Harry?" Hermione demanded, feeling her face flush angrily. Perhaps he had sipped the tea from the edge and hadn't sampled the powder? He didn't seem to be falling at her feet as of yet.

" I'm fine," Harry replied, " Why?"

" It's just…" Hermione gawked at the table suddenly, " You drank from my tea! Oh, Harry, you drank from my tea cup, didn't you?"

" I'm sorry," Harry said finally, " Why would that make me ill though? Tell me you don't believe in cooties now, do you?"

Just then, a pale arm slapped down a cup on the table. The sneering face of Draco Malfoy appeared in Hermione's face. Draco smiled at her and then turned to glare at Harry. " Thanks for the free drink, Potter," Draco laughed, " You didn't even see me filch it off your table. Idiot." Draco turned back to Hermione. " And you! Mudblood! How'd you like a dance?"

Hermione's heart deadened inside of her. Draco Malfoy had drunk from the cup instead!

Author's Note: I want to end with a cliffhanger. Yes, I realize this was pathetically short, but the cliffhanger was worth it, no?