Uhm, right. Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't know who exactly owns him nowadays, but I can tell you it ain't me. Don't worry, my grammar ain't not this bad in the story you're gonna hafta be readin'.

"Ron, you have absolutely no brain in that inflated head of yours, do you?" Good God, they were fighting again. Hermione played some mental Mozart and drowned out the argument.

"I already told you, I don't know where that shoe came from! I wasn't doing anything!" Ron defended himself, rather half heartedly.

"It was under your bed!" Parvati practically screamed. "Who're you fucking? I saw you talking to that snotty little Ravenclaw the other day. She'd wear these slutty stilettos!" She was getting rather hysterical at this point, and Hermione decided to intervene.

"Wait a second, what shoe?" Hermione sounded genuinely concerned, but her sincerity might have been a little questionable as she was speaking to the rhythm of Moonlight Sonata.

Parvati and Ron both turned to her looking confused, probably thinking that their argument had been quiet and civil.

You could hear the rusty cogs in Parvati's mind turning, "Well, I found this…this shoe under his bed."

She held it out on one finger, doubtless trying to keep her hands clean. Hermione gasped, "That's my shoe!"

And the rusty cogs turned a little faster, "You two…You two are -"

"NO!" Hermione and Ron exclaimed together, incriminating themselves just a tad. Ron gasped, and you could hear his embarrassment, "I-I didn't. Not with Hermione. I'm sorry, but…but-"

Parvati rolled her eyes and looked squarely at Hermione, "He takes forever to explain himself. Every time."

"No! It's…just don't laugh, alright?" Ron murmured through his clamped teeth. Apparently, Hermione's cogs turned a little faster than Parvati's. He had been wearing her shoes. He had been wearing her strappy, three inch stilettos and strutting around in his room.

She thought of something quick, "Parvati, it's just that I was trying to make him try on my shoes. I thought I'd lost one of them, but I brought all this stuff up with me."

"Wh-what're you saying?" Parvati glanced frantically from Ron to Hermione. Hermione couldn't be exactly sure what was going on in her head, but it seemed to be evolving very slowly.

"Look at Ron's cheekbones." Hermione pointed at them, and Ron's eyes widened with something between fear and curiosity. Parvati glared at the cheekbones. They were, unarguably, quite gorgeous.

"He's a little girly, isn't he? Tall, thin, girly. So I put him in drag." Hermione carefully inspected her fingernails as The Girlfriend thought it out.

And really, it was very surprising when she'd shouted, "Show me!"

"What!" Ron screamed, frantic and blushing like mad.

"There's no point in hiding it, Ron. They had to find out some time." Hermione let out a loud pretend-sigh, a pretend-frown and a pretend-look of resolve. "I'll show you. Come on, I've got loads of stuff that fits him in my room."

Parvati still looked fairly doubtful, but Hermione managed to usher the strange couple into her room. As head girl, she was allowed to console Persons-In-Distress in her chambers, which included a very Dobby-inclusive tea service.

"Now Parvati, just wait outside while I get him dressed," She managed to gently kick Parvati out, and then she turned to Ron, "Soooo, Ron. Can you walk in them?"

He looked a little downcast, but managed to reply, "Kind of. I'm-I'm getting used to the taller ones."

"So how long have you been borrowing my shoes?"

He cast his eyes down and said in a tiny voice, "Grimmauld Place."

She raised her eyebrows, took in a deep intake of breath, and lit up a cigarette.

"Hey, wont you get in tro-"

"Nope. They haven't got any school rules against smoking cigarettes. Frankly, I don't think Wizards really know what they are. And as Head Girl, I'll take the liberty of exercising my rights," She said all of this between little puffs of smoke, "Now, Follow Me."

"Where're we-"

"My closet."

"Isn't this your closet?" He asked, pointing to a dismally miniscule cave of a closet

"Well, Parvati said she wanted to see you in drag. And I've got this gorgeous dress for you." She lead Ron to a room hidden behind numerous tapestries of old women making puree out of living ducks. Gruesome, the dark ages.

Fifteen minutes later, Ron was dazzling in a green silk Oscar de la Renta cocktail dress, Gold two and a half inch Jimmy Choo sandals and amber chandelier earrings. He looked. Like a girl.

"I can't…uhm, breathe. Do I really need to wear this?" He said, pulling uncomfortably on The Bra (which she was planning to burn after he wore it…or perhaps give to him if he planned on dressing drag often).

"Of course! Without it, you look like a cardboard cut out!" Hermione shaped the silicone into something more conical as the left side was hanging a bit off center. "Now go and sit over there, on the bed. No! Don't sit like that, for goodness' sake, have you no dignity? You're a girl! Act like one. There now, cross your legs…okay fine, your ankles, and sit with your back straight. Good, good. I'll just be a second."

Hermione rushed out, giddy, into the corridor outside of her room. She and Parvati giggled together until she remembered what, exactly, she was giggling about. "Right, right. Come in now, he's actually quite feminine."

And of course, she'd had to say this while Ron was sitting cross-legged on the bed, picking things out of his toes through those once gorgeous Jimmy Choo shoes. Hermione sighed in deep drama, and lit another cigarette. "Anyway, he was gorgeous right up until now. I present to you the abominable She-Ape."

It didn't matter. Parvati was rolling on the floor in hysterical laughter anyway, Ron was pleasantly surprised by the comfy snugness of wireless bras and Hermione was spared the indignity of having to Scourgify her entire room. Perhaps except the last bit. Oh well.

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Harry leaned over and whispered in Hermione's ear, "What have you done to Ron?"

She gave him a hurt look and replied, "It wasn't me. Parvati made him come out dressed like that, in my clothes might I add, as punishment for trying to lie to her."

"Oh, punishment." Harry nodded in agreement though he probably didn't know what he was agreeing about, "Then…then why does he look like he's enjoying it?"

Well, actually. He sort of really did look like he was enjoying it, but Hermione decided to spare Ron the humiliation of bringing him out of the closet, as it were. It would probably do nothing but hurt, anyway, so the shoe incident was left decidedly in the closet.

She glanced over at the Head Table to gather reactions (like she always did) and was rewarded with a handsome laugh from the oh so formidable Albus Dumbledore, a nervous titter from Professor Sprout and the usual Deep Scowl courtesy of Severus Snape. Wait a second…

O, Hark the Angels Sing! Professor Snape was smiling, and smiling at nothing less than the ridiculous spectacle of Ron Weasley dressed in drag. He turned to Hermione, doubtless aware that the clothes did indeed belong to her. He raised his eyebrow in the suggestive manner that teachers do, and coughed into his coffee.

That damned coffee. But she was going off on her tangent. Professor Snape had just coughed into his coffee, which was equivalent to at least three barks of laughter from anybody else.

Harry elbowed her quite painfully in the side, "Hey, is Snape laughing?"

"Professor Snape, Harry. And no, he's not laughing. He's coughing."

"Yeah, but that's pretty much the same thing as rolling on the floor when it comes to him, isn't it?" Harry asked, eyebrows asunder.

"Watch it, Harry, you'll hurt yourself. We should just leave him alone. He'll be humiliated enough when students get wind that he's capable of finding anything at all even remotely funny." Hermione laughed into his ear, which probably looked naughty to some of the teachers as Professor McGonagall was even now walking toward them with a stick in her hand. Well, it was her wand, but scary nonetheless. Hermione used to go to a private Catholic school, and nuns with sticks were scarier than Stigmata.

"I'm not here to congratulate you, if that's what you're thinking. You two will behave in a manner befitting of the Great Hall of our esteemed school or I will, I repeat, I will Rock You."

Hermione sputtered, "Excuse me?"

"I said I will Dock Points!" McGonagall was looking fairly puce at this point, and she had even caught Ron's attention.

"Oh, oh, is that it?" Hermione breathed out a sigh of relief. She didn't know how far she could go if Professor McGonagall had lost her mind as well, "Er, you should probably know, Harry and I aren't…uhm, together."

There was an awed hush throughout the room as the long argued-over not-so-secret school rumor was shredded to pieces. "I…see. Well, I believe I have a bottle of Ogden's from Professor Flitwick. Good day, children." And off she went to the head table.

"Harry. That was weird."

"Yes. Uhm, weird." Harry responded, and Ron proceeded to flirt with boys across the room. A few didn't recognize him and flirted back.

Severus Snape watched her with a small look of surprise. She kept her eyes on him as he glanced from Ron to Harry to herself. She looked at his shoes. Were those…Beatle Boots???

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Okay, so you will tell me if this chapter made any sense. I didn't proofread at all and I haven't even read it once. I'm tired as fuck and I haven't had a cigarette in three days, so I'm carrying my addiction over to the Hermione you all thought you know and love. Criticism accepted, though heartily despised (but welcomed anyway) I have an odd personality, but I wont lie to you. I hate it when I'm wrong, but I always am. So pretty much I hate myself and I want to die. No just kidding, but really. Good luck decoding.

Lovingly and most Lovingly,

Jenny Yun