Stuck in Place

by KemAjiana


A/n: Haha, I had fun with this. Not the best chapter, I suppose, but an angry Hermione is a funny Hermione, in my book. So, enjoy. :)

And special thanks, of course to my reviewers. You guys rock.


Chapter Four

By the end of the work day, Hermione was frazzled. Fred had managed to perfect the Tempting Treacle, and had moved on to Shifting Shampoo, which changed an unsuspecting witch or wizard's hair to another color depending on the temperature around them. Hermione had figured it worked a lot like a mood-ring, which changed as a person's body temperature changed, and had gleefully set to work assisting the talented wizard. But, after three failed attempts - and a loud pop that had set her delicate eardrums ringing - she was ready to curl up in a corner and call it a night. And it was only four o'clock in the afternoon.

She was so out of it that she gave a bit of a jolt when Fred cradled her to his chest, extinguishing the burners with a flick of his wand, and throwing the room into shadow. He shut the door with a sure jerk, as if to be sure it was shut and inaccessible, and threw a locking charm at it before setting Hermione down on the now-empty floor.

She yawned, looking up at him, before trotting towards the stairwell while Fred went to join his brother, who was taking sorting galleons and sickles, behind the counter.

Not bothering to wait for the brotherlyrics duo, she made her way into the flat after bounding up the two flights of stairs, and flung herself out on the plush gray carpet, eyes sliding shut almost immediately. But the sound of heavy feet jerked her to attention not five minutes later, and she peered up at George with a quizzical eye, giving a startled bark as he bent to pick her up.

"Sorry, Hermi," he laughed. "but you've got green stuff stuck in your fur. I think it's time for a bath."

She rolled her eyes, allowing herself to be lifted and carried to the whitewashed, tiled bathroom, where she was deposited smoothly into the tub. While George ran the water, which made Hermione's skin prickle oddly, Fred reached for the shampoo, splashing a bit into the dumping water, which immediately began to bubble.

"The green stuff is Super Sticky Glue, I think. Otherwise, we'd do this the wizardly way," George apologized. "It's designed to not come off unless washed out with a nice, through, muggle scrubbing."

George unclipped her bow from around her neck, and set it aside, dipping his hands into the water and scooping a handful of sudsy water into her fur. His fingers worked the shampoo and water into her skin, and she practically purred, doing her damnedest to ignore the fact that she was being bathed by George. Water dumped over her back, smoothing out her fur, and she gave a small shake to clear her ears, while he applied another generous dollop of scented shampoo (mint?) to her fur, working it in once again while Fred watched.

As the water poured over her once again, George suddenly froze, and Fred began to backpedal out of the room, his face white as a sheet. She looked at them quizzically as George dried her fur with a quick spell, and wondered what could have gotten into them. She trotted over to the sink, leaping up agiley, and froze, hackles going up, and mouth opening a tad to let out a long, low whine.

Her fur was purple. Vibrant, brilliantly, purple.

"Oh, Merlin," Fred choked.

George spun on him. "What did you do?"

"I forgot! I swear!" he cried as he bolted for the living room. "It was meant for you! I put Shifting Shampoo in your bottle to prank you!"

With a scrabbling of claws against the bathroom sink, which sent a toothbrush and bar of soap flying, Hermione was launching herself down and out, bent on tearing him to shreds. He gave a somewhat girlish shriek, leaping onto the kitchen island and out of the reach of gnashing teeth.

"Georgie!" he cried. "Get me my wand!"

His twin quirked an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe and shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't think so, Freddie. This is better than pranking!"

"George!"

Hermione prowled about the kitchen island, bright purple tail lashing, as Fred stood, dancing about, wondering if he could make it to his bedroom without her reaching him, first. George pulled Fred's bedroom door shut with a wide, crooked smirk, before settling himself on the couch and flipping through a Witch Weekly magazine, circling some things with his wand, and jotting down notes on a parchment paper; product research.

Hermione settled herself in the middle of the room, just in case Fred tried to make a break for it, and sniffed at him in irritation. She was a purple fox, and someone was getting bitten for it. Not a hard bite, she reasoned, but a nip to remind the man she was still a force to contend with I'm even if she was wandless.

"Hey, Fred?"

"What, George?" the helpless twin called back in irritation.

"You'd best hope that comes out before mum and dad get back," George laughed. "Or mum's going to have a right fit."