A Change'll Do You Good

Part 8:
What I Did on My Summer Vacation

Hermione heartily agreed with Draco's statement. Since she'd awakened, her life had been hell. She was a Slytherin, a male Slytherin no less, and at the worst, she was Draco Malfoy. Hermione still hadn't wrapped her brain around the situation. She walked through the train in a daze. "Draco," a voice called. "Draco!"

She continued on and jumped as someone tapped her shoulder. She jumped around to find herself face-to-face with Blaise Zabini, a handsome somewhat androgynous boy who seemed to be Italian in origin with curly black hair, high cheekbones, olive-toned skin, and slanting deep brown nearly black eyes. He was about Draco's height, maybe a bit taller, but more muscular as well, and he also had amazing cheekbones. He was another much-discussed subject in the butterbeer-induced girls' nights in. Although the conversations about Blaise usually involved discussion of his sexual orientation, but he was still cute...Blaise smirked, he'd caught her looking. She felt a blush fill her cheeks.

"Why, Draco, I don't believe I've ever seen you blush before," he said.

"Don't get used to it, Zabini," Hermione huffed.

"I wouldn't dare," Blaise said with the ghost of a smile. For the first time, Hermione noticed that Blaise had dimples. Again, Hermione was staring. I so need to stop doing that, she thought. "So, let's get to our compartment."

Hermione followed Blaise and instantly regretted it. The compartment was full of Slytherins: Crabbe, Goyle, and -- worst of all -- Pansy. Kill me now.

---

Draco wasn't in much better company. Potter and the Weaselette kept looking at each other, blushing, then looking away; Loony Lovegood was reading The Quibbler upside down; Largebottom was reading a book on plants; and Weasley was still bloody well staring at him. Whenever Draco looked back at him, the redhead would turn away as fast as possible. It was almost amusing. The Slytherin hoped that he'd break his neck or at least get whiplash.

"How was your summer?" Potter finally managed. Weasley and the Weaselette spoke up.

"I went with my father to look for Crumple-horned Snorkacks," Loony said in that dreamy voice of hers.

Hmmm...how did I spend my summer? Oh, right. Took Quidditch lessons from the greatest Seeker ever and I'm going to kick your ass -- oh, bloody hell! Granger is going to be the Seeker. She can't even fly a broom! Draco thought, paling noticeably.

"Hermione?" Potter said. We're going to lose every game. Every...single...game. He thought it over a moment. Well, I'm the only good player on the Slytherin team so...hmmm...maybe I can try out for the Gryffindor team? Keeper, maybe? I could do a better job than King Weasley -- my great-aunt Hortense, who was blind and deaf could do a better job than Weasley -- but Captain Harry would never let his best mate down. Beater, no -- wouldn't risk my pretty face for that job. So right...it's Hermione's face...but still I'd feel it. Seeker, bloody Potter...always Potter. Chaser? Draco Malfoy, Chaser. It does have a bit of a ring to it, dunnit? Except it'd be Granger. Hermione Granger, the world's greatest Chaser? There's something wrong with that. Draco frowned at this revelation. Oh, bollocks! If I'm in Hermione's body does that mean that I'd have her Quidditch ability? Oh, sod all!

"HERMIONE!" Potter cried, startling Draco. "What'd you do on your summer vacation?"

"Me?" Draco asked.

"Hermione is your name, right?" Weasley asked.

I could tell you some stories... "I...read. A lot. I like books, you know, ‘cause I'm shy and I have no life," Draco summed it up. The occupants of the compartment looked at him oddly.

---

With infinite dread, Hermione took a seat and Pansy immediately cozied up to her. She pushed the clingy girl aside and Pansy huffed. "I'm not interested, I'm really not interested. At all!" Hermione cried. Pansy glared at her and left the compartment. Oh, thank Merlin! she thought.

The three males looked at her curiously. Of all the males I could have ended up in, I ended up as Draco Malfoy. Why? Why? Why!? I will find that fortune-teller and I will...I will do--do something really wretched, something really...Slytherin. She stared off into the distance, watching the countryside roll by. Merlin only knows just how terribly Draco's messing up my life.

---

"There is no possible way that the Chudley Cannons would ever win," Draco stated. "It's been over a hundred years. The league should drop the Cannons."

Ron glared at Hermione/Draco. "No way! The Chudley Cannons will win!"

Draco chortled at Ron's hope. "'Let's all cross our fingers and hope for the best'? Honestly, they haven't won in over a century and they're bloody well not going to start now," Draco sniped.

Ginny looked curiously from Draco to Ron. "Are Hermione and Ron arguing about Quidditch?" she asked Harry. Harry was just as dumbfounded as the red-haired girl.

---

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