A/N

Nisargfr1 caught an error in the last chapter: I put the twins on the train home, and staying at the castle. Stupidly, I caught this issue myself, edited it in the master copy, then uploaded from the backup copy... which I hadn't corrected... and then I missed it in the final proofread. D'oh. To clarify, the twins were not on the train to King's Cross.

Tastes Like Toilet Water

The return of the student body was not the jubilant affair the decorations anticipated it to be. They filed into the Great Hall with a mixture of dreary resignation and tension, to be met with much the same from the staff whose brave faces were barely holding firm. Harry watched them, but his eyes slid over most, even those who met his with suspicious and accusing stares; he was looking for one person in particular. Neville and Luna said hi, and he returned the greeting happily, but his eyes never left the doorway.

Finally, right at the back of the horde, she came in, limping. Harry's instinct was to jump up and rush over, ask why she was hurt, and who hurt her, and help her to the table. For any other friend, he would have, but for her sake he didn't. She was managing on her own, and clearly hadn't asked Neville or Luna or anyone else for help, so he sat with his knee impatiently shaking and waited.

He was about to call her name, to guide her to him, when a paper plane he hadn't noticed flying bumped directly into his forehead and fell onto his lap. Looking up from it he saw Hermione grinning the way she did when she'd just solved something, and he smiled himself; it seemed her puzzle had been 'where's Harry', and she now knew the answer.

As she drew near he made to say hello, only to realise he didn't know how - how does one greet a friend they haven't seen for weeks? Neville had just said hi, then returned to an ongoing conversation with Geofric. Luna wasn't a good lead to follow when aiming for normal behaviour. Would a simple 'hi' be good enough? Was he expected to speak first, or was she? Did it matter? Did they even need to make introductions again, or could they just pick up where they left off like no time had passed in between?

Hermione carefully levered herself over the bench to sit next to him, one hand on the small of her back and a grimace on her lips.

"You're a git Harry."

That was not anywhere on Harry's list of possible greetings.

"What did I do?"

"You know what you did," she accused, though with little malice. (Not that he could be sure with the way she was wincing.)

"The Christmas present?" he ventured.

"Yes the freaking Christmas present! What were you thinking spending all that money on me?"

"That you were worth every knut?" Harry gave his practiced reply. He'd known, of course, that there would be repercussions. He'd also figured once Hermione got the obligatory annoyance out of her system, she'd be grateful, so he was aiming to get past it as quickly as possible. Smooth words were his best (only) chance of that.

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed, even as she smiled. "I worked out how much that must have cost, and it's insane. A pony would have been cheaper!" she cried, throwing her arms up and causing herself even more pain in the process.

"I wouldn't know. Never bought a pony. Someone wouldn't let me," he jested, judging that she wasn't half as mad as her words implied. If she were, she would be seething, not shouting. Shouting Hermione was the final step before Forgiving Hermione, assuming she didn't go to brooding instead. Please don't go to brooding.

"Dad said I need to give the vouchers back. I told him you'd probably found a way to stop me doing that."

"Because you thought I had, or because really you wanted the books?" Harry asked, thinking if he could get her to admit the latter, he'd be off the hook.

Hermione hung her head bashfully and sighed, "both."

"Brilliant," Harry beamed, clapping his hands together. "So, you pick up any interesting books over the holidays?"

"Yes I bleeding well did," she snapped. She was sort of cute when she 'swore'; like a puppy pretending to be an attack dog. And not one of Aunt Marge's puppies, which really were attack dogs.

"Wow," a Weasley twin interrupted from her other side, "Hermione Granger, upset over books? What did you do this time Harry?"

"He bought me an absurd number of books," she huffed.

"That… Doesn't sound like a bad thing?" the twin ventured.

"And I threw my back out carrying my cases to the train."

Harry imagined his friend lumbering across platform nine and three quarters, giant case in each hand, a third strapped to her back, and a pile of books balanced on her curly haired head. He couldn't help but laugh.

"It's not funny," she bit at him.

"It is a little bit funny," the twin disagreed, before shirking under her withering 'glare'.

"Sorry, it's just… How many books did you try to carry?"

"I didn't count," she blatantly lied, "and I didn't bring the books, just the braille transcripts I made at home."

"Magic at home? Naughty naughty, Granger," the other twin chided, appearing out of thin air over Harry's shoulder.

"Magical artefacts are perfectly legal within a wizarding home," she lectured, "and I know you know that."

"Thought your folks were muggles," he countered, leaning in with a mischievous grin.

"I'm a witch. It's my home. It counts," she asserted, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Well isn't that disappointing?" the first twin pouted. "For a minute there-"

"-we thought we'd managed to corrupt you-"

"-into a budding little prankster."

"I am not, and never will be, a prankster," she fumed, as though they had called her a strumpet.

"But you'd be so good at it!" second twin protested.

"Yeah, who would ever blame the blind girl?" first twin blurted out.

The table fell silent all around them, as Hermione visibly inhaled, like a balloon about to burst.

"Bad choice of words, brother!"

"Hasty retreat, brother?"

"Indubitably! Run for it!"

The twins did just that, scarpering for the far end of the table in comical fashion. Hermione deflated, and thumped her elbows onto the table so she could rest her head in her hands.

"Gryffindors," she mumbled. "Deliver me from Gryffindors."

Harry chose not to remind her that she was a Gryffindor too.

"Do you mind if we try this again, harry?" she pleaded. "It all went totally off the rails."

"Would that involve me getting told off again?"

"No, of course not. I'm not mad, not really. How could I be mad when you bought me a small library? That would be so ungrateful, and I am grateful, it's just - it took me by surprise."

"You did say 'and one surprise'," her gently reminded her.

"Yes, I remember. Still, no-one's ever… Most people make fun of me for reading so much, especially since… I was always picked on at school for living in the library, as if it were my fault books made better company than my peers. Then I come to Hogwarts were there are books on magic, actual real magic, and somehow everyone still thinks it's nerdy to want to read them all. People buy me books, but that's just because they don't know what else to get me, but when you got me those vouchers, it was like… Like… Like you approve."

"I do approve. I think it's brilliant; you're brilliant."

The words just sort of slipped out, and Harry was glad Hermione was both too caught up in her own to focus on what he'd said, and unable to see him blushing. Why did I go and say that?

"You're the only one who does. Even my parents think I should read less. They never say it directly, but it's always 'look what a lovely day it is, why not go play outside', or 'are you sure you don't need to give your fingers a rest, sweetie?'."

"So your parents didn't like the present?"

"My parents didn't like a boy they've never met spending eight grand on their daughter."

"What's wrong with that?" Harry asked, genuinely not seeing the problem.

Hermione sighed theatrically. "Sometimes I forget you're a year younger than me. You'll figure it out."

Harry was taken aback that he had found something Hermione wasn't going to teach him the moment she found he didn't know it, but he wasn't complaining. He would still like to know, though.

"So, uh… Did you like the present, then?"

"Oh, Harry, I loved it," she gushed. "Of course I did. It's the best present anyone has ever got me. But you really could have warned me."

"Where would the fun be in that?"

"I shouldn't have left you here with the twins, should I?" Hermione despaired.

Their conversation was cut off by Dumbledore rising to give a generic speech welcoming back his students. He made no direct mention of the situation, so it wasn't worth listening to, except out of politeness. When it ended Luna made her way over.

"Hello Hermione, hello Harry. Did you get my present, Harry?"

"You sent me a present?" he asked, not remembering getting one from her - something he had written off as Luna just being herself.

"Oh, did I forget to put a label on it? I always do that. It was the plum jam."

"Ah, yeah, I got that. Wondered who it was from."

"Excellent! It's made from the dirigible plums daddy grows in the garden; they're very good for relieving digestive issues."

"Uh, thanks?"

"I noticed you weren't eating the richer foods at dinner, and was worried you might be having trouble."

Harry actually had been starting to avoid the heavier meals because his small stomach struggled to hold that sort of food. A diet based on Dudley's leftovers had conditioned him to vegetables, salad and breadcrusts; anything sweet or meaty never made it to his plate. Sitill, being called out on having 'digestive issues' wasn't any less uncomfortable for being correct.

"That's… very thoughtful of you."

"It's my pleasure, Harry. I like thinking about my friends. Your gift was wonderful too."

Harry had bought her a magical padlock for her trunk - top of the range - in the hopes a few less of her things might take themselves for a walk in future.

"Glad you liked it."

"So, Harry, how's the juice?"

Harry didn't quite know what to make of that question. The pumpkin juice had been the same that day as it ever was, and he would have expected Luna to have tried some already. Was Gryffindor's juice different to Ravenclaw's?

"Yes, Harry, how is the juice?" Hermione parroted.

Oh. That 'juice'.

"It's good," he said evenly. "not sure it's as ripe as it could be, but I'll let you be the judge of that."

Harry's skin tingled suddenly, and the world was a lot louder that it had been a second before. He caught a movement out the corner of his eye - Hermione was stowing her wand away. When did she learn to cast augmenosensus silently?

"Ooh, tingly," Luna giggled, wiggling her fingers and staring at them through pupils constricted to pinpoints. Do mine look like that too?

"The juice will be ready in a week," Hermione whispered, so low only they could hear her. "Which means all we need is hairs from some Slytherins. I'm thinking Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini have the best chance of getting close to Malfoy."

"What about his two thugs?" Harry asked. Those pair were never far from Malfoy's side.

"Can you imagine Crabbe or Goyle ever asking a question? You'd blow your cover the moment you opened your mouth and polysyllabic words came out."

"So how are we going to get these hairs?" Harry wondered, not caring to mention he didn't know what 'polly-sillabick' meant.

"Oh, that's easy, Harry. You pluck them from the head," Luna suggested.

"We can't just walk up and pluck their scalps Luna," Hermione disagreed, shaking her head slightly.

"Whyever not?"

"They'll get suspicious. Clearly."

"Oh, we have to do it secretly? That might be tricky."

"Actually," Harry said, hoping his next words weren't completely stupid, "we can just walk up and pluck. Or at least, Luna can. And when they demand to know what she'd up to, she can just tell them they had a nargle on their head."

"Nargles don't sit on heads, Harry," Luna reminded him.

"Do they know that?" he countered.

"They don't even believe nargles exist," Luna said sadly. Harry hated to think what that lot had said to Luna on the matter.

"So they'll just think Luna is being, well… Loony," Hermione said, catching on. She shot Luna an apologetic smile at the use of the nickname. "Will you get us those hairs, Luna?"

"Anything for my friends," Luna replied happily, already turning to skip away - straight over to the Slytherin table. It looked like they would be getting those hairs sooner than they had thought.

"Ok, this is it," Hermione said to the group gathered in Myrtle's bathroom - Ginny, Neville, Harry, and herself. "The polyjuice is ready, Luna and the Weasley twins are keeping our subjects busy so there won't be two of them in Slytherin, so… this is it."

The twins had agreed to distract the snaked with no more explanation than 'it's for a prank', and Luna was with them as Hermione didn't think she could pull off acting a Slytherin, but the girl wanted to be involved.

She drew the three vials she had prepared and handed them out, explaining; "Harry, you're going to be Theodore Nott: Pureblood supremacist and insufferably self-righteous prick. Neville, you get Blaise Zabini: He's much the same, but quieter. Stand there and nod approvingly any time someone says 'mudblood' and you'll be good. Ginny, you'll be Pansy Parkinson. She fawns over Malfoy, so maybe pretend you aren't feeling well if you're not up to getting touchy feely with the snake."

Ginny made a retching noise.

"What about you, Hermione?" Neville asked.

"I'm not taking any," she stated.

"What, why not?" Ginny exclaimed. "You can't send us into the snake pit and chicken out yourself!"

"I am not chickening out! I have my reasons I can't take that stuff, otherwise I would be going in your place. You think I want to send Harry in there without me to keep him out of trouble?"

"'Reasons', huh? You allergic or something?" Ginny challenged.

"No."

"Well what then? If this stuff's dangerous, I'm not taking it either!"

"It isn't dangerous, I brewed it properly and checked it thrice. Just take it and get going."

"Not until you explain yourself," Ginny huffed.

"Fine! Fine, you want to know what the problem is? The problem is I'm blind, and this potion would turn me into someone who isn't!" Hermione shouted, losing grip of her temper.

"So it wouldn't work?" Harry questioned.

"No, it would work perfectly well. I'd be Pansy Parkinson, eyes and all, perfect working order," she seethed, glad she had already handed the vials out as she might just have smashed one with how tightly her fists were balling.

"Isn't that good? I mean, you'd be able to see? That'd be brilliant."

"Would it Harry? Would it? The potion lasts an hour. An hour with my sight back, and then what? Then it's back to darkness! I get one hour to remind me just what I'm missing; does that sound brilliant to you? Does it!?"

"Couldn't you just keep taking it? Not as Pansy, but…"

"And have my liver shrivel up a year from now through gradual boomslang poisoning? I did my research and ruled that out already, so can we drop this and get on with the plan? The twins' diversion won't last forever."

Ginny grumbled, but Hermione heard three distinct gulps, and three matching gagging fits as it went down.

"Gah! Tastes like toilet water!" Harry spat.

"I brewed it over a toilet, what do you expect?" Hermione bit back. She couldn't help but feel insulted, even though polyjuice was supposed to taste like piss.

"Woah… I feel funny," Neville remarked.

"You feel funny?" Ginny barked. "I'm growing six inches… How tall is Pansy?"

"Hold on, this isn't right," Theodore's voice said. "I feel, I've got… Sweet Merlin what is that!?"

"Uh, Hermione," Pansy's voice quivered. "I think you mixed up the potions."

"The potions are fine, Ginny."

"Yeah, but I'm Harry," Pansy replied.

Oh... Oh no. If Harry had been turned into Pansy, that would mean…

"Neville?"

"I'm fine. Robes are a bit tight though."

That wasn't much relief, as the real problem was:

"Ginny?"

"I'm going to kill you, Granger," Theo promised.

"Oh God," Hermione blurted, "I'm so sorry, I must've… mixed up the potions."

"At least they worked," Harry offered kindly. Kinder than Hermione felt she deserved; she was such an idiot!

"At least they worked!?" Ginny screamed, managing to push a banshee wail through a boy's voicebox. "I'm a boy! I have… parts! I- ow! Why does it- I need to get these clothes off, I need to get them off! Turn around, don't look at me!"

Hermione obviously didn't bother to turn around as Ginny rapidly relieved the issue of stuffing an older boys body into a younger girls knickers. She couldn't imagine that discomfort, but from the boys' sympathetic hisses they could.

"Right, Harry, take your clothes off too," Ginny demanded. "You're the best fit for this monstrosity your girlfriend has turned me into, so don't you dare complain."

"Ok, ok, and she isn't my girlfriend."

"Good, 'cause when I'm done with her no-one's going to want to be kissing her."

No one wants to kiss me anyway, Hermione couldn't help but think.

"Can we focus on the plan?" she pleaded, aware that time was ticking and her potion might not last the full hour it was meant to - potions brewed in a makeshift lab carried no guarantees.

"Easy for you to say, you aren't dealing with… this," Ginny moaned, justifiably so.

"I really am sorry Ginny, but we need to get a move on."

"You mean we need to get a move on - you aren't doing anything."

"Alright, alright," Hermione conceded, frustrated now. "Just, please?"

"Come on Ginny, let's go catch us an heir of Slytherin," Harry urged.

"Yeah…" she murmured, not sounding at all eager. "Let's do that."

Getting into the Slytherin common room was easy, because they bumped into Malfoy looking for 'them' en route. A vague excuse about the damn Weasleys being up to their usual insanity got them off the hook for their absence, and Malfoy was all too happy to take the lead as they 'returned' to the dungeons. Fortunately for Harry, Malfoy was too preoccupied with his own self-importance to notice 'Pansy' wasn't fawning over him. He hoped it would stay that way because if he had to touch the pompous prick he might just vomit.

Slytherin's common room made Harry a little happier to be a Gryffindor; had he been sorted into the snake pit the gloomy lighting and disapproving stares of the portraits would have driven him out faster than his housemates had. The water playing on the windows below the lake should have been mesmerisingly beautiful - instead, the lack of proper lights had it casting an oppressive sickly green across the room. Harry couldn't wait to be done and out of there.

"Ah," Malfoy sighed dramatically. "Doesn't it feel so good to get away from all the plebs? Especially those blasted Gryffindor blood traitors; who do they think they are messing with us? Can't they learn to leave their betters alone?"

"Idiots, the lot of them," Harry agreed, hating the sickly sweet way his voice came out.

Neville nodded like Hermione had told him to, and Ginny fumed silently, still upset and using it to her advantage wonderfully.

"But never mind them. Say, Zabini, up for a game of chess?" Malfoy suggested, heading over to a chessboard table like the answer was a foregone conclusion.

Harry wondered if Neville even knew how to play chess. Probably more than I do… All I know is you fight over a king.

"Um, yes?" Neville gulped with all the confidence of someone who had never played chess in their life.

He cast pleading eyes at Harry and Ginny as soon as Malfoy had his back turned, but Harry could only shrug and mentally wish him luck. Ginny, however, gave a determined nod and strode forward, making sure to sit herself on Malfoy's side of the table, looking over his shoulder.

"You'll be wanting black, Zabini?" Malfoy asked as he set out the white pieces in front of himself.

"Sure," Neville said, sounding happy to not be going first.

"Awesome. Say, you alright?"

Malfoy must have noticed how pale his friend was going; Harry didn't realise someone of Zabini's complexion could turn white, but Neville was giving it a good shot.

"Uh huh," Neville mumbled.

"Those nasty twins hit him with some sort of hex," Harry lied. "Won't admit he was shook up it by though… boys." He tried to huff the way Hermione did when talking about his own antics.

"Ah, I'll go easy on you then."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Merlin Zabini, you really aren't yourself." - Harry tensed up, and his eyes met Ginny's wild ones - "Do you need to see madame Pomfrey?"

"No! I mean, no, I'll be… I'll be back to normal in an hour or so," Neville stammered in alarm.

""Eh, suit yourself. Your move."

Malfoy had moved a pawn to e4, if Harry remembered how to read a chessboard properly. Not that it was hard, but this was perhaps the third game he'd ever witnessed.

Neville responded by mirroring that move, and the next three as well. Draco said nothing about it, so Harry guessed it must be a legitimate tactic. Or Zabini was normally terrible at chess and Neville was in luck.

"You know," Harry said into the thoughtful silence which had descended upon the game, "I wish this heir business could be over quicker."

"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked, cautiously.

"Well, there's still so many muggleborns in the castle; at this rate it'll take years to get rid of them."

Harry was being careful with his words; he couldn't outright imply that Malfoy was responsible, nor that he wasn't.

"I'm sure the heir has a plan for that."

Was Malfoy referring to himself in the third person? Or was he saying he wasn't the heir? Harry needed more information, and so chose to be a bit risky. Neville had already lost a piece, much to Malfoy's surprise, and it felt like their cover was collapsing along with his defence.

"I'd have thought you'd be more eager to see them gone, and soon," Harry pressed.

"Well, naturally if I were the heir they'd be gone already, along with that fool Dumbledore, and I'd even have framed it on Potter and his mudblood bitch."

Harry fought down the roar in his chest. There would be a chance to get the prick back for his comments later, he was sure of it. Ruining Hermione's plan to defend her honour was not what she would want.

"Naturally. Maybe you should tell the real heir that," he suggested, trying to sound half-joking.

"I most certainly would, if I had any idea who it was. For all I know it is those two, and Granger's figured her only chance of being the best muggleborn is also being the only muggleborn."

Down, lion, down.

Harry dropped the matter and let the game distract Malfoy's attention; he wasn't the heir, that was obvious. It was possible he was, and was keeping his friends in the dark, but if that was the case then his acting was impeccable. He really did sound annoyed about not being the one going around attacking students. Harry shot Ginny a meaningful look; they had what they came for. Now, all they had to do was find a way to get out. And they had about forty minutes to do it.

No pressure.