(A/N: Give it up for skendo, who wanted a reveal chapter!)

"Harry."

"Mmmphm..."

"Harry...Harry, we overslept..."

Hermione rubbed the sleep crust from her eyes and reached over to weakly pat Harry's face in a futile attempt to wake him up. Usually he was a very light sleeper, but he'd had Quidditch practice the night before and even by Flint's standards it was gruelling, and Hermione herself was cramming furiously for an advanced Arithmancy exam. They'd gone to the Room of Requirement to be together, but hadn't gotten to anything other than shirtless necking before they were both snoring.

"Nnunngh..l'mme'lone, P'tunia..."

Sighing, Hermione grabbed blindly for the first article of clothing her fingers touched and pulled it on, trying not to be annoyed that his sleepy mind called her his aunt. "If you remember this when you get up, I'll be at breakfast."

He made a noise that almost passed for an affirmative, and she stood up to leave.

Ron and Neville were waiting for her at the door with some big, important update of some kind, apparently too excited to simply wait at the table.

"Hermione, Merlin's beard, we've got loads to tell you WHAT THE BLOODY, BLAZING HELL ARE YOU WEARING?!"

"W-what?!"

Startled, wide awake, Hermione glanced down at herself in a panic, thinking maybe she'd been caught by a Slytherin jinx and was wearing her bloomers on the outside. What she saw was possibly much, much worse. In her drowsiness, she'd accidentally grabbed Harry's Quidditch jersey from the night before- his bright green and silver, emblazoned with "POTTER 1" jersey, instead of her sweater. Ron's scream had drawn all attention to her, so that even the teachers were looking.

She froze, panicking inside, trying to come up with a way to explain this and knowing she couldn't.

"I-"

"There you are, Hermione." Harry strolled up before she could get a word out, ignoring Neville and Ron. He had her sweater in one had and his wand in the other. He waved it, and their clothes swapped places. "If you wanted to wear it today, you could have just asked. Thanks, love." He pecked her on the cheek, shot a shite eating grin at a rapidly reddening Ron, then practically skipped over to the Slytherin table, where every jaw was scraping the floor.

Hermione could only smile, and do the same.