His question was answered when they got to the ward. Madam Pomphrey was tending to Hermione, who was reluctant to get into a hospital gown because it didn't quite bring out the blond highlights in her hair. Neville was cowering on one of the cots, nearly climbing the headboard, because Professor Snape was standing at the foot of the bed, clenching and unclenching his fists and staring red-hot daggers at the boy. Professor Dumbledore was standing next to a bed where Seamus was sitting happily, resting his head against Dumbledore's side while Dumbledore scratched him behind the ears.

"Ah, Harry. Ron. Perhaps you could shed some light on things," Dumbledore said, leaving Seamus with a treat. "We only got so far with Professor Snape before he got angry at Neville again and forgot what he was saying."

Between them, Harry and Ron explained what had happened.

"Comportamentos," Dumbledore muttered, then turned to Madam Pomphrey.

"Yes, Albus, I heard. Do you know which ingredient you knocked into the cauldron?" she asked Ron.

Ron shook his head. "I couldn't see what it was, ma'am, since I was falling over. But I think it might have been lemon shavings."

"Is there a chance that either of you noticed what was knocked into Neville's and Seamus's potion?"

Both Harry and Ron shook their heads. Then Harry noticed someone moving behind Madam Pomphrey.

"Hey! Hermione!" he shouted.

Hermione was back in her red robe and headed toward the door.

"Stop her!" cried Madam Pomphrey. Professor Snape turned around and pulled her back with a spell from his wand.

"You can't leave yet," Madam Pomphrey said, leading her back to her cot. "You've got to stay here until we come up with an antidote."

Hermione sat back down on the bed, a stubborn, bored look on her face.

"It appears that both she and Severus have been exposed to an extreme version of Comportamento Tipicalus," Dumbledore remarked. "They've taken on the stereotypical behaviors of their new hair colors."

"So, Hermione's going to act like a dumb blonde, and Snape..."

Ron turned around, his eyes wide. "Snape's going to act like everyone thinks a redhead should act like! We'd better get out of here fast, before he notices us!"

"Did Professor McGonagall get down to the Potions classroom?" Dumbledore asked.

"She was going to clean things up after she sent us up here," Harry said.

"Oh, dear. I hope she saves back a little of the spillage. We still don't know what was knocked into Neville's and Seamus's potion, and we don't know how much lemon was spilled into yours."

"If it even was lemon," Madam Pomphrey said. "Ron really wasn't sure."

"Oh, it was lemon all right, and quite a bit of it, too. It even turned their clothes a different color. Lemon reacts on hair and fibers."

Professor Snape came over, his fists still clenched, his face wrung with emotion. "I'm sorry, headmaster. I'm afraid I'm not myself today. That incompetent..."

He pointed back at Neville, still cringing at the head of his bed. Harry and Ron noticed that his hand and arm were shaking with anger.

"Yes, Severus, I understand," Dumbledore soothed. "Comportamento Tipicalus. A stereotyping potion."

Snape threw his hands into the air and seemed to beseech the heavens. "And you!" he said suddenly, rounding on Ron, "It was your blunder..."

"Now, Severus, he didn't mean to knock that lemon into the cauldron. He fell..."

Madam Pomphrey motioned for Ron and Harry to leave the ward while she went to see if she could get something to calm Snape down.

An hour later, they were sitting in their Magical History class, almost nodding off at the deadly drone from Professor Binns. Ron was still thinking about Hermione. Every so often, he would look over at the Slytherin side of the room and bare his teeth at Draco Malfoy. Malfoy, in his turn, would sneer at Ron, and his two friends would look at him threateningly.

"Get over it," Harry whispered. "She isn't being herself. It's the potion."

"It still makes me mad," Ron replied.

Professor Binns was in an extremely boring section of the text, how the Ministry of Magic came to be. Ron was nodding off, his drool puddling up on his desk. Harry was daydreaming about the Quidditch match that day after school, when there was a flurry at the door and suddenly, a blond head was at Malfoy's shoulder, two blue-clad arms around his neck.

"Get off of me!"

Ron jerked to his feet, every muscle in his body alert.

"Get your hands off of her, Malfoy!"

"You tell her to get her hands off of me! She's ruining the merchandise!"

Ron strode over to the Slytherin side of the room, his fists balled up and ready. Draco Malfoy rose to his feet, and with him, Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry ran over to Ron and tried to pull him back by his shoulders. "What are you doing?" he hissed. "They'll make minced meat out of you!"

"He doesn't have any business bothering Hermione!"

Harry looked at Hermione. She was leaning against the desk behind Malfoy, inspecting her fingernails as though nothing was going on.

"She ought to be up in the infirmary," he said.

Harry approached Professor Binns, who didn't seem to have noticed any disruption.

"Excuse me, Professor, but Hermione should be in the hospital wing. I'm sure they're looking for her. Could Ron and I take her back up?"

"Hm? What? Oh, is Miss Granger ill?" Professor Binns looked at her. "She does look a little washed out. Yes, of course you and Mr. Weasley can take her up to see Madam Pomphrey."

But Hermione wouldn't go with them. She refused to budge from her position, and even grabbed hold of Draco to keep from being dragged away.

"You'll have to take her, I guess," Harry said at last.

"What? Me?"

Hermione rested her head on his shoulder.

Malfoy sighed. "Come on, you guys. Let's get her back up to her bed and off of me!"

They left the room, Hermione still clinging vine-like to Malfoy.

"Okay, Ron. Let's..."

But Ron was staring after them, his eyes large and nearly filled with tears. A small whimper came from his throat as they disappeared around the corner, and he began to pace agitatedly.

"Ron, what's gotten into you?" Harry asked. Everyone in the class was watching them. "Come on. I think you got some of Neville's potion on you. Though how you did it..."

"It splashed on me while I was under the table. Got me on the hand. Do you think she'll still go for him once her hair's back to its normal color?"

"What'd you do with the potion?"

"What potion?"

"The potion that dripped on you in Potions class."

Ron shrugged, though he was still agitated. "I dunno. I guess I must've wiped it off somewhere."

"Come on." Harry led him down the corridor and up to the hospital wing.

Quite a sight met them when they arrived. Hermione was still hanging on Malfoy's neck. He was trying to get her off, imploring either Crabbe or Goyle to knock her away. Seamus and Neville had discovered each other, and were guarding the territories of their beds with growls and raised hackles. Professor Snape was pacing and waving his hands in the air at the far end of the room while Professor Dumbledore was trying to calm him. Madam Pomphrey was trying to get Hermione off of Draco and back into her cot.

"Oh, what is it?" Poppy groaned when she saw Ron and Harry enter.

"Ron got a little of Neville's potion on him when he fell," Harry answered. He had his hands full just trying to keep Ron from rushing Malfoy.

"Well, get him over to the other side of the room and into the bed beside Neville. Pull the screen so he can't see what's going on over on this side."

Harry took Ron to the bed, then went over to see if he could help with Hermione.

"Hi, Harry. Don't we look just wonderful together?" Hermione gushed.

"Yeah. Great. But Malfoy has to get to class. Why don't you let him go?"

"But, if I let him go, we won't be together! And we do look so well together! Don't you think?" she crooned into Malfoy's ear.

"Yeah. Look. Er, Granger, I've really got to get to class. Er, my father will be angry if I don't go. You don't want my father to be angry with... us... do you?"

Hermione reluctantly removed her arms from his neck and let Madam Pomphrey lead her to her bed.

"I don't see why I have to stay here when you're all going to class," she pouted.

"You're ill," Madam Pomphrey said.

"Yeah. Your face doesn't match your hair," Malfoy nearly grinned.

"It doesn't?" Hermione turned to Madam Pomphrey. "You've got to do something! I look terrible! You don't hate me for it, do you, Drakey?"

"Naw. Not for that," he answered. He headed for the door, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.

"I'll see you after school," Harry said, and followed the Slytherins out.