A Change'll Do You Good

It had been a week. A whole, entire week and nothing at all had changed. Draco was still stuck in Hermione's body, Hermione was still stuck in Draco's body, Snape was still pining over Harry's Aunt Petunia, and Dudley -- gasp, shock, horror, horror -- had practically been adopted by the Slytherins, was dating Millicent, and was completely clueless as to his mother's crush. At any mention of Snape, Vernon Dursley would turn reddish-purple and look around for the Potions professor to pummel while, at the mention of the professor or his aunt, Harry Potter would grow extremely pale and his eye would twitch for hours. At this discovery, Draco would try to drop Snape's name all the time just for the sheer twisted pleasure of Harry's horror. But even that was starting to get old. Almost.

A week had gone by with Draco dragging Hermione onto the pitch every night for at least three hours and trying to turn her into a Quidditch all-star or, at least, get her to fly the Firebolt for over twenty minutes with her eyes open. Day-by-day, Draco's idea of Quidditch glory to the Slytherins in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts grew dimmer and dimmer. He would have to make Hermione good at Quidditch or get his body back. Both goals seemed impossible.

The only joy of their lives was Snape's insane Potions lessons; Snape gave insane amounts of points to all Houses for things as simple as passing out Potions ingredients or just appearing on time. The Hufflepuffs were actually starting to enjoy the class while Harry was even more horrified than ever. Today, Snape was the typical disgustingly shiny, happy person that had replaced the professor at the first glimpse of Harry's aunt. He was wearing blue, a broad grin on his face that was incredibly disconcerting.

"Today, we're going to make Polyjuice Potion," he proclaimed.

A slow grin passed over Hermione's face at the idea. Now why didn't I think of that!? came Draco's voice.

An answering grin passed over Draco's face. Oh, yes! I can finally get my body back! she thought. "Choose your partners," Snape said, slipping into his chair. "There are stewed lacewing flies ready for use in the cupboard."

The professor rubbed his hands together in a fashion that was not unlike a villain from the James Bond movies of the sixties and seventies. "I've got Draco," he stated to Harry and Ron's shock.

"W--what?" Ron asked.

"Hermione, I know we've done this before, but we could always use your help," Harry stated. "Ron, especially."

"What?" Ron asked and Harry gave him a look. "Oh, yeah. Of course, I could always use your help."

Draco had ignored them and had gathered his books. He now left the table and Ron and Harry stared after him in shock. Pansy had moved to join Hermione but both she and Draco sent her a glare that would kill a lesser person -- Hermione had come to the conclusion, that if the world were to end due to a nuclear holocaust, the only things left would be cockroaches, lawyers, and Pansy Parkinson.

Draco plopped his books onto the table and looked eagerly at the instructions written on the board (ignoring the fact that the i's had been dotted with little hearts). He copied them, but to his annoyance, Hermione had already begun. "Why are you starting already?" he demanded. "We haven't triple-checked everything!"

"I've done this before," she replied. She squinted and looked at Professor Snape who also seemed to be making some Polyjuice Potion as well. "Why would he...?"

"I don't know, and I really don't think I want to know," Draco stated, adding the rest of the ingredients.

"By this time," came Snape's voice, "you should have a workable potion and separated it for the two of you to drink. And only then can you add the final ingredient: a hair from your partner. Of course, anything genetic will work: saliva, nails, et cetera." He was adding something to his potion and looked positively giddy.

"What do you think...?" Draco started.

"You probably don't want to know," Hermione finished, plucking a long, curly, brown hair from Draco's head and depositing it into the potion.

"Ow," Draco murmured, jerking out one of his own white-blonde hairs from Hermione's head and adding it to his half of the potion. They stared at the potion with delight. No more being stuck in one another's bodies...well, for an hour, but it was still better than this.

"To being normal again," she stated as she downed a cup and Draco did the same. Immediately, the changes began. Hermione was positively delighted to have her body back and hugged herself. "Oh, I've missed you so much!"

Draco wasn't as obviously enthusiastic as Hermione was but he was just as happy to be himself again. "Oh, yes, yes, my beautiful, magnificent body," he murmured. "Wait...what the?!" As soon as the words were out, his body began to change again. "No...no...no..."

In a couple of seconds, they were back in the position they'd been before the potion. Draco was stuck in Hermione's body and Hermione was stuck in Draco's body. "What? How? No!" she whimpered. "We did it right! Every step! It should last for an hour!"

Draco scowled at the traitorous cauldron. "It's not fair..." he whined.

Snape downed his potion and, in minutes, he was in Vernon Dursley's body. "Oh, I'm on my way, Petunia, my love!" he proclaimed, racing out of the room.

Harry -- who had taken on Ron's body -- began to twitch all over.

After a Calming Drought from Madam Pomfrey, Harry was ready to captain the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He had reserved the pitch for Quidditch tryouts and Draco was there with his trusty Nimbus 2001. "Hermione? I--I thought you were joking," Harry stated, staring at Draco.

"A Nimbus 2001?! Where'd you get one of those?" Ron demanded.

"My, uh, parents got it for me. They make a lot of money doing that thing they do," he replied.

"Well, all right then," Harry said, looking a bit pale. After about two hours of stalling, Harry finally allowed Draco to try out. "Well, Hermione, you're up. What do you want to try out for?"

"Chaser," was Draco's response.

"This should be interesting," Ron mumbled, slumping onto his seat.

Draco had doffed the Gryffindor uniform in favor of one of the Muggle outfits Hermione had tucked in her trunk: a pair of jeans, trainers, and a red t-shirt that advertised some Muggle restaurant. He'd pulled the hair out of his face with a ponytail holder and he was feeling more comfortable. He straddled the Nimbus 2001 with practiced ease and glided up.

Ron and Harry stared at him, slack-jawed. Draco smirked and quickly wrested the Quaffle from Weaselette and flew across the pitch, easily avoiding Weaselette and Demelza Robins. He dodged several Bludgers hit in his general direction, maneuvered effortlessly around the mostly-open goals, and tossed the Quaffle through the goal. Weasley didn't even budge and Draco smirked; the long-nosed, red-haired boy's freckled turned bright red.

Hermione's arm, he noted, wasn't as good as his, but it was still pretty decent (probably from all those notes she took). Or maybe it was just his inherent talent. Potter threw everything he could at Draco and Draco managed to get past it all and score ten goals past the oh-so-incompetent Weasel. By the time the tryouts were over, Harry was duly impressed and Ron's face matched his hair and his robes. "I think I can safely say that you're going to be on the team, Hermione," Harry finally admitted. "When'd you get so good?"

A slow grin passed over Hermione's lips. "What can I say? I'm the best," Draco stated, sauntering off with the Firebolt. Harry and Ron stared after Hermione's form with wide-eyed admiration.