My sincere apologies to J.K. Rowling. I'm not making any money out of torturing her characters.
Saturday
Neville sat in the Gryffindor common room, bent over his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. Hermione came in, looking grumpy and wearing robes that did not seem to fit.
"I thought you had supper with Slughorn," Neville said.
"I told him I felt ill. I didn't feel like going to his meetings tonight," she answered.
"Now you're here anyway, I could use some help with this." Neville pointed at the book he was reading. Hermione's expression changed from grumpy to downright exasperated. "But if you don't feel like explaining all this to me right now," he stuttered," I could ask someone else."
"Er… No, I don't mind. It's no problem." She muttered.
Hermione behaved odd today. Maybe it was a girl thing. The passion in her voice when she explained the hexes to him was exuberant, even for Hermione, but when she was finished, he finally understood it. She could explain those things way better than Snape could.
"Neville," she said, "I need your help with something. It's for Potions."
"For Potions?" Neville asked incredulously, "but you know I don't take Potions anymore!"
"I wondered if I could have your toad."
"Oh no! There's no way you're going to put Trevor in a Po-"
"I just want to borrow him. You'll get him back tomorrow morning. Unharmed," she said.
"Well, if you say so." Neville shrugged. "What do you need him for anyway?"
"It's for…er… a special project," she stammered.
"Oh- What's up with your hair!" Hermione's hair had begun to darken and straighten all of a sudden.
"Never mind. I have to go. Can I have Trevor? Now?" Her face had turned bright pink.
"Yeah, sure." Neville handed her over the toad.
When Hermione sped out of the common room, he shrugged. Definitely that time of the month.
Back in his rooms, Severus was glad he could get out of the sloppily transfigured robes. It had been a close shave. The Polyjuice Potion had begun to wear off and he was nearly caught in the act – by Longbottom, of all people. Only now he realised that Granger and Longbottom were going to have a fight about that toad tonight, but he didn't care. He set to work, carefully harvesting the secretions from the animal's warts. He stirred them into the solution he had been preparing on forehand and too his hookah out of his cupboard. The mixture turned a bright pink after exactly seven and a half minutes. He put out the fire under the cauldron and dimmed the lights with a flick of his wand. Tonight was going to be great.