Why Me????

A/N- Hope you all like this! I'm doing three fics at once AND going on vacation, so I might be a little slow at updating, but bear with me! Read and review, please! Though I must warm you: any flames will be used to set Draco's gel-encrusted hair on fire! –grin- On to the story!

Disclaimer: Nope… still don't own HP… -light bulb goes off in head- that is, unless J.K. Rowling transferred ownership of the series to me! checks bank account Obviously not. Alas.

                                                Chapter Two- I'm never gonna hear the end of this…

"This is going to be one experience I'm gonna want to forget.." Harry grumbled, not wanting to believe that he was doing anything this stupid in front of Snape… and Draco. Hermione was concentrating on the ingredients and Ron was studying Dean's cauldron, whose contents seemed to be escaping again despite Dean's attempts to beat it into submission with a wooden stirring spoon.

"Hmmm, powdered werewolf claw-- Doesn't that seem a bit unethical? A pinch of dried hollyfig, one flask of water, a cup of penguin bile, ...and blue toad hair. Stir eight and a half times in a counter-clockwise fashion. Heat on low flame for 123 seconds…Now, say the incantation over the potion, Harry."

Almost resigned to his fate, Harry gave the tiniest of groans. Snape was still swooping around to each table handing out criticism, and the dungeon seemed like more of a trap than it ever had been before. Knowing Snape, the Daily Prophet would have a piece on him as a cross-dresser in no time.
 "What do I have to say?"
 "It's in the book. I can't say it without you or it won't work."
 "Then let me see the book."
 "Here... didn't you bring YOUR book?"

Hermione looked at him disgruntledly, almost resembling Snape when he was about to give a telling-off. Harry wisely dropped the subject as soon as he could, though apparently not soon enough. Hermione pushed her book toward him a little harder tan necessary and muttered something about slackers.
 "Heh heh heh... we better get to work on this!" He chuckled nervously, trying to escape the wrath of Hermione.
 "I swear, one of these days..."
 "Uhh... ready?? Here it goes. One day I'll look back and laugh about this..." Harry muttered in the most pathetic voice he could muster.
 Ron snickered. "Don't worry, I will too."
They recite the incantation, and they both take a draught of the potion,  somehow managing to keep it down.

(A/N- From now on, it's the person, not the body that is referred to. I.e- 'Hermione ran over the small bunny' would be referring to Hermione, not Harry in Hermione's body. Got it? No? Confused? Ah well..)
"Eww … I think that may have been worse than the Polyjuice potion."  Hermione grimaced
 "Tell me about it, Hermione."  Harry said in a pronounced masculine timbre, which usually would have been normal... of course, nothing about the day was normal and Ron began to snicker.
 "Well, it worked." Ron said, turning red from trying not to laugh, "Wait a second… why does everyone else in the class have a red potion? Well, except Dean…"

Pure panic registered on Hermione's face. She hadn't listened to a teacher once in her life and his is what she got for it: a Potion's class in her friend's body. One, she was sure, that no one would ever let her forget, for Snape had turned from reprimanding Neville in the usual way and was heading toward their table.
 "Harry, Ron, Hermione, where's your potion? Slacking as usual, I see."

"Well it's--" Hermione began nervously, her mind racing to find a way out of the predicament. She, however, was not prepared when Snape released the full fury toward Harry in a super-hell-freezing verbal tirade, something Hermione seldom had to endure, even in Snape's class.

"DID YOU DO THE CORRECT SPELL, MR. POTTER?" Snape seethed while Hermione wondered if that really was a speck of foam at the corner of his mouth.

"I... don't think so. I'm Hermione, professor." She quavered quietly, praying that the Slytherin table wouldn't catch wind of the development.

Snape favored her with a glare colder than anything she'd ever seen. Though he might be a professor now, there's something about having a former Death Eater stare you down that tends to make you just a wee bit twitchy.

Is this what Harry goes through every day? Geez, I'd suspect him of trying to kill me every year, too...

"Very funny, Mr. Potter-- ten points from Gryffindor for your little "joke". Now let me see your duplication draught."

"But-- I. am. Hermione. Granger." She whispered, the blush coming back.

Harry, however, saved her from Snape's further fury by moaning softly and burying his head in his hands.

"You mean-- we weren't supposed to do the second spell on page two hundred ten?" He groaned as Ron tried to keep his silent hysterical laughter from spilling out and attracting any attention. Snape's eyes glinted and his voice came out in a positive hiss that Harry was certain could have qualified as Parseltongue.

"NO, YOU WERE TO DO THE SEVENTH POTION DOWN." Snape blazed.

"My mistake? Heh..." Harry began, but trailed off as Snape snatched the textbook from in front of him and paged through, obviously channeling his want to maim the two students to the poor book.

"You're a bigger imbecile than I though, Mr. Potter. This is a very obscure, virtually pointless potion. Why anyone would think that we were going to study it in class is beyond me. It's quite unfortunate, but I don't have the antidote for this. It will take a week-- or perhaps more-- to brew it. Until then, the situation is out of my control."

Snape turned on his heels, ruthless as ever, but all Harry and Hermione cared about was that he hadn't announced it to the class. However, a bag of dung bombs could have likely exploded in the room and no one would have card. They were all too busy sneaking furtive peaks at the creature that was still trying to get out of Neville's cauldron and that had just turned bright pink after Seamus had tried to pour in half a bottle of chamomile essence in an attempt to "calm" it down.

"A WEEK?" Harry and Hermione gaped at each other in panic.

"…I'm a dude that looks like a lady for a week."

"NO, YOU'RE A LADY FOR A WEEK. Capiche?" Hermione glared at… well, herself. "Either way, you two are out of luck. And Harry-- Well, Harry in Hermione's body... was right: he is going to look back at this and laugh….. someday. Ah, and I will too..." Ron mused, thoroughly amused.
Harry and Hermione looked at each other and said simultaneously, "Why me?"
 "Hehehe... well at least it's not for the rest of your life." Ron grinned, infinitely glad that he had refused to take that evil potion of chaos.
 "But I have a Quidditch game against SLYTHERIN in two days! Snape probably has the antidote, but just wants "me" to play like a girl against his team..."
 "Oh nononono... I am not flying. No way. ...And I'd have to go to Trelawney's class again!"

Their pity party, however, was interrupted when Snape came marching back to their table carrying two oddly sinister-looking white slips from his desk.

"Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. I will not tolerate you two sorting out your sordid little love affairs in my class. In fact, love notes during testing are completely inappropriate. I'm sending you both to Dumbledore's office so that you're not a distraction to the class-- or each other. Go. Now."

He towered in what was a very good expression of outrage (undoubtedly aided by years of wanting to send Harry to Dumbledore's office for discipline), and the Slytherin side erupted in catcalls and laughter. Ron shot them a good-luck sort of look, and stared apprehensively from the seventh spell down on two hundred and ten to his newly-cleaned cauldron. Had the class been looking closer, they would have seen that "Harry" was blushing much more than a normal boy would and that Hermione was using the ungraceful gait of a teenaged boy. 
Once out in the hall, Hermione's eyes widened in panic.

"But I've never been to a principle's office because I was in trouble! What if it goes on a transcript or something? I'll never get a job!"

"Oh, calm down. It's not THAT bad..."

Nothing, however, was going to pacify Hermione once she'd gotten on a roll.

"And I can't believe Snape! Making us the laughingstock of the class. I mean honestly, would I ever write a love letter?"

Nothing, perhaps, except her own body tripping and falling on her.

"Geez!" Harry said with a grimace, nursing an ankle.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked quickly, hoping that five minutes hadn't done any permanent damage on her body.

Harry tried to look away, but it's a lot harder than one thinks when it's your own face glowering at you.

"I can't get used to these legs! …And I keep looking down and getting distracted… and they throw my balance off!" he blushed.
"PERVERT!" Hermione screeched, "I do NOT want you looking at my body like that!!!"

Seamus, however, chose that moment to walk past at that moment, a spello-taped shut cauldron in tow.

"Woah, mate. Am I interrupting something good here?" He leered, grinning at the two of them still sprawled on the ground.

"Heh… it's uhhh… nothing. Nothing at all." Hermione stammered, blushing fiercely.

"Oh butt out, Seamus. It's not what you think. She tripped." Harry returned, forgetting that she wasn't a suitable pronoun for the situation.

"She?" Seamus grinned.

"Oh, you know what I meant. Now go dispose of that thing before it comes to get us in our sleep. What DID you do, anyways?"

"A mix of potions three and four. Apparently Animation Draft and Stretching Serum don't go together. Go figure… Well, I better be off to take this to Hagrid."

"If you so much as breathe a word about this to anyone--" Harry began, shouting to Seamus' turned back.

He turned back a fraction of a second and gave them an evil grin that rivalled the Weasley twins' expression after a practical joke.

 "Don't worry... I won't tell anyone but the entire Gryffindor table at lunch. I thought you two would never actually get around to admitting you liked each other…"

"It's not like that, Seamus..." Hermione pleaded, "You misunderstood... or misheard.. or..."

She trailed off as she realized that she was talking to thin air.

"Bloody gossiper..." She muttered.

"Just what we need: a rumor going around in addition to THIS." Harry muttered, trying to hide a blush from creeping to his cheeks.

It just goes to show that you should never tell any important secrets to other guys. He thought bitterly. Still… at least Seamus had kept his mouth shut a little.

They passed through the halls almost automatically in an awkward silence (owed, no doubt to being tormented about imaginary love notes… not to mention the unsettling feeling that comes with your voice coming out sounding like the opposite sex.). Therefore, the gargoyle blocking the entrance to Dumbledore's office loomed ahead of them much sooner than they would have hoped. His out-of-focus eyes immediately fixed on them, and a mischievous grin spread across his face, making him look like a stone Cheshire cat who had just seen a pair of juicy mice walk under its tree.

"Ahh… students." He smirked, almost licking his lips in anticipation, "impeccable timing, too. I was just getting bored."

And if there's anything worse than a six-foot-tall gargoyle towering over you, it's a bored six-foot tall gargoyle towering over you.