Disclaimer: Sadly, these lovely characters do not belong to us (yet). However, their antics are purely our doing. Also, "The Time Warp" is not ours. cries ...WE LOVE YOU, FRANKIE!

A/N: PLEASE do not use our review section as a bad couple battleground...eurgh. coughAVERYJESSICAcough

on another note, sorry about the long wait. michi has the flu and we were in New Orleans, mooching plastic jewelry from random men in masks (aka Mardi Gras)

thank you to all our lovely reviewers :3

enjoy! michi elizarita 3

Harry Potter and the 'Magical' Muffin Mischief

Chapter 5: Of Love Letters and Body Swapping

Ron woke up suddenly in the middle of the night to Harry's screams. He quickly hopped out of bed and leapt upon Harry. He shook him slightly, whispering, "Wake up, dear. Wake up. It's okay, your love machine is here."

Harry opened his large, emerald eyes and blinked sleepily. Blimey. He really should lose the glasses. His eyes are absolutely gorgeous…almost as nice as a certain special someone's silver blue eyes…oh Luci…

"Er, Ron?" Harry asked incredulously.

Ron was snapped out of his daydream. "Wh-what?"

"Why are you on me?"

"You were having a bad dream. I heard you screaming and came to wake you up and make sure you're ok," Ron replied.

"Oh. Right. Could you get off me then? You're crushing my larynx ((A/N M: WHOOHOO! BIOLOGY WORD!))."

"Oh, right-o. Sorry 'bout that," Ron said sheepishly. He clambered off of Harry and sat on the edge of his bed. "So," Ron began conversationally, "what happened, mate? It wasn't You-Know-Who, was it?" Ron glanced around the dorm room nervously.

Oh, it was you-know-who alright. Just not the one Ron's implying. Harry shook his head as though clearing his thoughts. "No, it wasn't. Just a dream," Harry replied, yawning.

"Oh…right then…well, since you're okay, I suppose I'd best hop back into bed," Ron said.

"You do that, then." Harry rolled over and fell back asleep, dreaming once more about a certain special someone.

Ron clambered back into his four-poster. He lay still for a long time, gazing up at the soft folds of fabric of his canopy. Thoughts flew through his head rapidly, and after a while he came to the conclusion that he would be getting no sleep tonight. He sighed, rolled out of bed, slipped on his fluffy maroon slippers, and padded softly down to the common room.

Ron flopped into one of the armchairs by the fire and watched the flames dance in the open grate. He sighed. Oh, I don't know what's come over me. I thought Harry and Hermione were enough for me, but now I love him, too. And he's a Malfoy, no less. But the way the flames dance and shimmer reminds me of his long, lustrous hair by candlelight…

"Ugh. Snap out of it, you wanker," Ron muttered to himself. "Listen to yourself, carrying on as though he controls the moon and the stars." Ron sighed blissfully. He does…he's the reason they shine so brightly…

"NO!" Ron shouted, slapping himself across the face. "Bad Ron, bad!" He stopped suddenly as more thoughts flowed through his mind. Luci could punish me…

Ron sighed once more, thoroughly annoyed and disgusted with himself, and walked over to the window. He looked out to see a lone owl swoop across the grounds and fly off over the forest. Of course…I'll write him and tell him how I feel. Getting this off my chest will make me feel better, right? He surely hoped it would.

-

As the first rays of sunlight became visible over the tree tops, Ron held out his letter, mostly pleased with the outcome. It had taken him several drafts, but he had finally written it. He sat back and read it over again.

Dearest Lucius,

I have written you for one purpose and one purpose only: I love you with all of my yearning heart and dearly desire to be your stud muffin, your love bucket, your sweetie pie, your schmoopsy-poo, and your hawt piece of ass.

"Brilliant. Genius. An absolutely perfect first sentence," he crowed softly to himself. "Now on to sentence two…"

-

A certain Mister Harold "Harry" (H-Dawg) James Potter plodded noisily down to the Great Hall. He smiled dashingly at some gossiping second years who squealed in delight and scampered off. He moon-walked into the Great Hall as the rest of the students were calmly enjoying their breakfast. Harry flopped down at the Hufflepuff table sleepily, only to be shoved across the floor on his bum to the Gryffindor table. He stabbed moodily at his cheesy, lipid-filled omelet while applying liberal amounts of ketchup and Cheetos. Suddenly, while eating an especially Cheeto-y piece of omelet, genius struck him rather hard between the eyes in the form of a song. Without further ado, our young scar-headed hero leapt upon the table like a kangaroo on a pogo stick, sending bowls of Cheetos and ketchup careening away across the Hall. The chatter died down abruptly and everyone turned their gaze upon this spectacle. Little did they know that nothing could prepare them for what would happen next.

Harry screamed out (using his diaphragm like a good little singer), "IT'S ASTOUNDING! TIME IS FLEETING! MADNESS TAKES ITS TOLL! BUT LISTEN CLOSELY!"

"NOT FOR VERY MUCH LONGER!" Hermione suddenly cried out.

"I'VE GOT TO KEEP CONTROL! I REMEMBER DOING THE TIME WARP! DRINKING THOSE MOMENTS WHEN THE BLACKNESS WOULD KEEP ME! AND THE VOID WOULD BE CALLING!" Harry sang like no tomorrow.

The Great Hall's occupants silently jumped up in unison and screamed, "LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN! LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!"

"IT'S JUST A JUMP TO THE LEFT!" Dumbledore egged on, much to the dislike of his fellow disgruntled staff members.

Every student jumped to the left, and brought their hands down in a showering circle. They sang, "AND THEN A STEP TO THE RI-I-I-I-IGHT!"

"WITH YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HIPS!" Dumbledore shouted.

"YOU BRING YOUR KNEES IN TI-I-IGHT! BUT IT'S THE PELVIC THRUH-UST THAT REALLY DRIVES YOU INSAY-YAY-YAY-YAY-ANE! LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!" the occupants of the Great Hall sang, though none as loud as Mr. Potter.

The "Time Warp" continued, during which Dean Thomas did an impressive rendition of Columbia's tap dance. At the end everyone collapsed on the floor. Coincidentally, at this moment, Draco Malfoy himself happened to enter the Hall.

"Ahhh…" he sighed complacently. "It appears that they have all fainted from my radiant beauty. This is going to be a good day." He sat down gracefully at the Slytherin table and helped himself to some of the ketchup-covered Cheetos that were scattered in front of him.

-

"Yes, yes, YES!" an ink stained Ron cried delightedly. "First paragraph complete! Oh Luci, how you inspire me! The words flow from my quill like gerbils at Oktoberfest! Good thing today is Saturday; I have all day to work on this without being interrupted by classes. Oh Luci…soon my true feelings for you will be laid bare for all the world to see!" He bent down once more and scribbled furiously.

-

"Harold, have you seen dearest Ronald?" Hermione cooed concernedly.

"No…not after this morning in the common room," Harold replied.

"What was he doing over by the window?"

"Er, I dunno. He wasn't too keen on sharing that little tidbit of information," Harry shrugged. "He said he'd meet us at dinner, though."

"What, does he plan on skipping class? On a Tuesday?" Hermione seemed astounded at the mere thought of this.

"So it would seem," Harry replied. He honestly did not care as much as Hermione obviously did. He held open the door to the Charms classroom for her and she stalked in, flustered at Ron's casual attitude about missing class.

Draco curiously watched Potter and the Mudblood enter the classroom. Ol' Bushy Hair seemed upset about something. Draco saw Potter eyeing the seat next to him, so he reached out a hand and patted it tenderly, giving Scar-head a 'look.' Potter blushed and slid into the seat. Draco rolled his eyes. Utterly predictable, that one. Granger took her usual place in the front of the classroom, pushing her chair up as close as she possibly could to Flitwick's desk, as was her custom.

Flitwick entered the classroom and climbed upon his desk. Draco mused to himself about the little man. He is the Charms professor…why doesn't he just use an Enlargement Charm on himself? His thoughts were interrupted as the little man began to speak.

"Today," Flitwick squeaked enthusiastically, "we will be practicing a charm to make baskets dance. It's really a handy little trick and can be used to entertain guests at parties. Pair off and take a basket." The little man gestured to a pile of brightly colored baskets that appeared on his desk. ((A/N E: yes, dancing baskets, random, yes yes I know…but I had to find something that sounded similar to what Harry misinterprets the spell as…))

Draco turned to Potter and looked at him meaningfully. Potter merely stared at him blankly. Draco sighed, lifted his eyebrows, and tilted his head in the direction of the baskets. Potter stared back at him, bemused. "HONESTLY!" Draco finally shouted in exasperation, losing his sangfroid. "YOU'RE MY PARTNER, OKAY? GO GET A BASKET!"

Harry's eyes widened with understanding. He smiled, nodded enthusiastically, and jumped up to fetch a basket. "I really wish he would be more direct…" he mumbled to himself. "I mean, I can't very well read his mind, and his hints are a little too subtle for me…" Harry returned to his place and handed Malfoy the basket. Malfoy scrutinized it fiercely, daintily plucking off several stray pieces.

"Ahem," Flitwick cleared his throat squeakily when everyone had their basket. "Now, to make them dance, simply wave your wand and say, 'Nuto Corbem!'"

"Okay, I got this," said Harry proudly. He waved his wand and enthusiastically exclaimed, "MUTO CORPUM!" He vaguely heard Hermione gasp something about a wrong spell as he passed out.

Moments later, Harry shook his head and pushed another body off of him; it appeared that Draco had fallen on top of him. He made to shove the body away when he realized that the person who lay on top of him had messy, dark hair and glasses. Harry scooted back in surprise and looked down at himself to see slender, graceful fingers, a Slytherin prefect badge, and a cashmere sweater. He reached up to his hair and pulled a white-blond strand of it into his vision. How the bloody hell did I get in Draco's body?

Meanwhile, "Harry" had come to as well. He groaned, muttered something about "that imbecile Potter" and rubbed his behind gingerly. He froze, shocked. This isn't mine. However, he continued to rub his derriere. Damn, Potter has a nice ass.

Harry watched in confusion as his body began rubbing itself. He saw an uncharacteristic for him, yet familiar to someone else, smirk play across his features. Dammit. And to make it worse, it seems that Malfoy is in my body. As Harry thought this, he saw his own startlingly emerald eyes snap up and glare at him mischievously.

Harry watched in consternation as "Harry" wildly waved his hand around. "Professor!" he heard his own voice wheedle in a whiney way.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Flitwick squeaked.

"I'm going to the bathroom. Now. And you will let me go. And it doesn't matter if I return to class or not because I'm the savior of the wizarding world and I can bloody do what I please," "Harry" said nonchalantly as he gracefully swept out of the classroom.

Hermione watched "Harry's" exit, perplexed. Harry? Gracefully sweeping? Oh dear, I hope he's all right.

"MALFOY, YOU BLOODY GIT, GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!" Harry shouted. The whole class turned to ogle at him confusedly, and he blushed, realizing that they probably thought he was shouting at himself.

"Five points from Slytherin for talking to yourself and for yelling, Mr. Malfoy," Flitwick screeched. Harry did not care; he ran clumsily out of the room, desperate to find Malfoy before he did anything embarrassing or incriminating while in his body.

Several empty corridors later, Harry stopped to catch his breath. He panted and clutched at a stitch in his side, thinking frantically. Now, where would that prat run off to? He scratched his head, getting so lost in thought that he did not notice Peeves until the poltergeist shoved a gigantic, green, jiggiling, giggling, Granny Smith apple flavored gelatin dessert into his trousers.

"AAAUGH!" (Harry) "Draco" screamed, trying in vain to retrieve the slippery Jell-O from the front of his pants.

"Aww, did the ickle Slytherin pansy not like Peevsey-weevsey's bit o' fun?" Peeves simpered, cackling manically like a cool fool in a swimming pool. He dodged a swipe from "Draco" and careened down the corridor, giggling madly.

"Blimey. This stuff is cold," Harry muttered to himself, pulling chunks of Jell-O and whipped cream out of his pants. He paused as he was struck by a revelation. Wait a tic. Cold. Of course! The dungeons! And with that, Harry took off, sprinting like mad towards the dungeons, bits of Jell-O flying off in his wake. Somewhere, far off, like a faint tinkling in the distance, the Mission Impossible theme song could be heard, egging young Mr. Potter on.

-

Ron looked up from his work when he heard someone arguing loudly with the Fat Lady. He got up, crossed the common room, and put his ear to the back of the portrait.

"But I'm Harry FLIPPING Potter! The Boy-Who-Lived! The Savior of the wizarding world! And the most insufferably Gryffindor-like Gryffindor to have ever walked these hallowed halls! LET ME IN THE BLOODY DORMS, DAMMIT!"

"Sorry, but I can't let you in without a password, dear."

Ron opened the portrait to find one of his very best friends ready to rip the Fat Lady to shreds. He took the livid "Harry" by the hand and dragged him into the common room. "Harry" surveyed the room with interest for a moment before flopping down in a red velvet armchair. He picked at some lint on the chair before fully leaning back into it with a sigh.

"All right there, Harry? You've never forgotten the password before; you okay, mate?" Ron asked concernedly, peering at his friend with interest.

"I didn't forget the password, imbecile. I just think that as the Golden Boy I have no need for common things like passwords or rules or permission. So get your large, freckled conk out of my face," "Harry" huffed.

Ron stepped back, abashed. He had a rather hurt look on his face. "You sure you're all right, mate?" he asked, traces of worry seeping into his voice. "Harry" glared at him in response. "Oh, right then. I suppose I'll just leave you alone. Come get me if you need to talk, though," Ron muttered. He resumed his place by the window and began writing furiously once more.

"Harry" watched Ron scribbling and muttering with interest, but soon became very drowsy. He curled up in his armchair and dozed off, snoring lightly.

-

Harry stopped, panting, outside of Draco's private chambers. He had just realized that he had no idea what the password was. He leaned against the wall opposite the entrance, thinking, and eating some bits of Jell-O. He had only gained access the other night because the entrance was slightly open, so he was clearly at an impasse at the moment.

However, at this time, someone else came traipsing down the corridor, singing "If I was a rich girl, na na na na na na na na na na na." Harry looked up to see Blaise Zabini, a handsome, dark-featured Italian Slytherin (voted by his class to be the Slytherin most likely to join the Mafia) whom he had never really talked to before. A slow, sly smile spread across Blaise's attractive face, revealing very even, white teeth. Harry involuntarily gulped. He's gorgeous…Wait, what the hell is wrong with me?

Blaise stopped in front of Harry and drawled, "Really now, Draco. You haven't forgotten your own password again, have you?" His eyes twinkled with amusement and another emotion that Harry could not place. "Come on, then," Blaise said with a sigh. He put a hand on "Draco's" rump and gently guided him towards the portrait of some ancient Malfoy ancestor. Blaise cleared his throat and said, with a grimace, "J'adore Tete de la Cicatrice toujours. Il est mon bête sexy."

Harry watched Blaise in reverent awe as silky, unfamiliar words rolled off of his tongue. That's so hawt…I wish I knew French…wait, does this mean Malfoy knows French too?

"Stop grinning like an idiot and come on," Blaise hissed. "Honestly, we aren't in Hufflepuff, you know. You look like a complete prat." Harry felt himself blush profusely and scampered quickly into the room behind Blaise.

Blaise sighed heavily and threw a small bag he had been carrying down onto an end table. "What?" he asked as he noticed "Draco" staring at it in disbelief.

"You carry a purse?" Harry asked, trying hard to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Blaise looked thoroughly agitated. "Honestly, Drake," he scoffed, "we've been through this a thousand times. It's not a purse; it's a manly handbag, also known as the man-bag." Blaise "hmph"-ed in a hurt sort of way.

"Oh, er, sorry mate," Harry said, trying to sound comforting. "Um, what do you use it for?"

Blaise brightened at his friend's sudden interest. "Well, to carry my manly things, of course," he declared proudly.

Harry was intrigued. "Hmm…sounds rather useful. Does it come in other colors? Like, spink?"

"Spink?"

"You know, subtle pink, of course."

"Any color you'd like, dear. Would you like me to order one for you? I can have it shipped here in two weeks. It's handmade from Italy. Genuine leather, hand-dyed and hand-stitched." Blaise looked smug.

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Thanks!" he cried, overjoyed, as he flung his arms around Blaise in a tight hug. Blaise looked surprised, but soon reciprocated and patted "Draco's" back warmly.

After a moment, Harry made to pull away, but Blaise clutched him tightly to his chest. "Draco, I never knew you felt the same way about me," Blaise purred, tilting Harry's chin up to look at him. Harry saw Blaise's deep violet eyes close as the Italian boy leaned in towards him. He suddenly realized what Blaise was going to do, and frantically tried to get away. Blaise, however, seemed to take this the wrong way. "Ah, Drakey, you fetish-y little perv…I always knew that deep down you liked a good struggle. I'll humor you," Blaise exclaimed, laughing, and released Harry.

Harry took this opportunity to carry out his master plan: he turned and ran like all hell and a half out of Draco's chambers and hid in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He curled up in a corner in one of the stalls and sobbed softly. I WANT MY BODY BACK! BUT I ALSO WANT THAT MAN-BAG! DAMMIT! I CAN NEVER WIN!

-

Hermione burst noisily into the Gryffindor common room after dinner to find "Harry" sleeping in an armchair by the fire and Ron writing by the window. She strode over to "Harry" and shook him roughly until he awoke.

"What is it, Mudblood?" "Harry" spat scathingly.

"Ah, I assumed that's what happened," Hermione said softly. "The spell should wear off in an hour or so, as Harry isn't that powerful…yet." "Harry" glared at her and made to say something, but was stopped by a voice calling from across the room.

"Oh, Harry, you're awake, then. Hope you're feeling better, mate. Listen, could you possibly, er, help me with something? Something, er, secret?" Ron shouted from across the room.

"Fine, Weasley. But just so you know, you're about as subtle as a charging rhinoceros in heat," "Harry" drawled as he crossed the common room to sit beside Ron. "Now, what is it that you need help with?"

"Ron, that isn't Ha-" Hermione began, but she was cut off as Seamus flung himself on her. "Get off me! Pervert!" she shrieked shrilly. She fled the common room, Seamus chasing after her, drooling like a rabid hyena.

"…a love letter? Oh, just say something about how nice you think her eyes are and how you're going to buy her expensive jewelry and flowers. That should work, unless you're trying to woo Granger, in which case you should offer her boring books and say how you adore her overlarge incisors. Now I've got somewhere to go," "Harry" said, clearly bored. He turned to leave and had made it halfway across the common room when he stopped as though glued to the spot. With a soft pop and a cloud of pink smoke, "Harry" transformed back into Draco.

"MALFOY!" Ron shouted with an emotion somewhere between bewilderment and rage. Draco's eyes widened in fright and he fled the common room.

-

Harry heard a door creak and footsteps on stone. He looked up to see a pair of well shined shoes. He let his gaze travel upwards until he met Blaise's mischievous eyes. "Found you, my frisky little Dragon," the Italian boy cooed softly. Harry curled tightly into a ball, wishing that he would disappear.

However, at this moment, a soft pop was heard and with a poof of pink smoke, Harry regained his body. He reached up to touch his messy hair and the cold, smooth glass of his spectacles.

"Wh-what?" Blaise stammered, flabbergasted. Harry took the opportunity to run. He sprinted down corridors towards his dormitory. Unfortunately, Harry had unwisely decided to attempt running with his eyes closed, and he collided violently with another fast-moving object. The two bodies fell to the ground heavily, and there was this great explosion, as though matter and anti-matter had collided. Well, not really; they just fell across the corridor, rolled through a tapestry, and landed in the room hidden behind the cloth with a thud.

Harry groaned and stretched. He looked down to see a very familiar blond gazing up at him angrily.

"Honestly, Potter, do you have to be so damned clumsy?" Draco demanded sorely. He rubbed his bum tenderly and sighed. "You do have quite a nice arse, though. I'll give you that much."

"W-wh-what?" Harry spluttered. Draco watched him with amusement.

"Muffin?" Draco whispered seductively, producing one of his wares from a hidden robe pocket. Harry snatched it greedily, looked at Malfoy, blushed profusely as he felt a hand brush over his rump, and ran out of the room. Draco sighed moodily and headed back to his dormitory. Little did he know that a certain Italian housemate would be there waiting for him.

-

"FINALLY FINISHED!" Ron cried delightedly. He ran up to the Owlery, not caring that it was past midnight. He quickly found Pig and sent the miniscule owl off into the night, a large roll of parchment attached to its leg. "Ahh, Luci," he sighed dreamily, and returned to his dorm, thoroughly pleased and exhausted.

A/N E: wow...extra long chapter. anywho, i am the language master in this chapter hizzay, so here are your translations, in case you wanted them:

Nuto Corbem: literally, "I shake to and fro the basket." yeah.sorry about the bad Latin grammar, by the way, but that's how JKR does it. traditionally, the verb comes last, but whatever. and it's not "corbis" because it's in the accusative. meaning it's the direct object. (if i'm wrong, PLEASE feel free to correct me, i haven't had Latin since freshman year...)

Muto Corpum: literally, "I change the body." yeah.and harry does just that. not corpus because, again, it's in the accusative (see above).

J'adore Tete de la Cicatrice toujours. Il est mon bête sexy. : "I love Scarhead always. He is my sexy beast." er, yes. draco can speak French, of course. come on, Malfoy is definitely a French sounding name, and the Malfoys are upper class, so they probably learn French. oh, and draco isa bit, um, obsessive and fruity. get used to it :D

if i'm wrong, please feel free to correct me.

ciao bella! until the next chapter!