A/N: Disclaimer: As always, I'm a terrible person for not posting any sooner, but here I am! First, I forgot to put this in my last post . . . I was just too excited to get it published! So, just in case there are any questions: I'm not J.K. Rowling . . . nor do I own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I just manipulate them sadistically for my own (and your) pleasure
Speaking of being too excited to post, I apologize for any errors that occurred with the spacing. They are not in my copies, but I did not notice that Fanfiction added (or deleted, for that matter) spaces. Finally, it was brought to my attention that the timeline may have appeared a little "off." I promise you, Hermione is of a "proper" age and not 13 years old during this story *shudder* Trust me, I'm not trying to slut her up . . . well, not slut her up that bad. I never even realized that it was a little confusing until I read it again—hey, it made sense in my head *wink*
Please remember, it is just a story—and a mature one at that—so take it for its entertainment value. Oh, and please read and review. You readers are the most invaluable thing ever!
Thanks and Happy Thanksgiving!
It took awhile for the plan to come to me.
I rifled through such ideas as love potions, transfigurations, and invisibility cloaks. Night after night, I spent poring over library books—researching spells, charms, and herbal remedies. Yet, all possessed their flaws.
But finally, the perfect plot manifested in my mind. It was quite simple . . . too simple, actually . . . and surprisingly, after I opened my mind to all possibilities, it came easier than I anticipated.
I knew that it was a complicated plan, but I had done it before . . . so it had to be easier, right? I knew the mistakes I had made and I wouldn't make them again.
I was even able to ignore the nagging voice inside of my head—the voice that screamed at me that this was completely insane . . . completely dangerous . . . and completely against the rules.
I was just sick of caring.
That . . . and my torrid lust overshadowed my logic.
So, I began spending my nights crammed in Myrtle's lonely bathroom once more.
The smell, the heat, the excitement of making the Polyjuice potion all came rushing back to me. Like a rogue tidal wave, it crashed over me—creating insatiable anticipation—but I had to be patient. Yet more importantly, I had to be meticulous, carefully copying the complex potion.
I couldn't make any mistakes.
I couldn't afford to.
Slowly, the days ticked by, and as they did, my excitement escalated. Everything seemed to be going to plan.
And finally, after nearly a month of focused preparation, it was time.
Phase 1 was complete.
Now, I just needed to choose a target—choose who I would become . . . who Draco wouldn't question sleeping with.
The answer was easy:
Pansy Parkinson was the only one that made sense.
She was always with Draco—I watched how they interacted in class and the Great Hall . . . how she followed him around like a sad little puppy, worshipping the ground he walked on . . . and I came to the decision that there was no way that they weren't fucking on the side.
Additionally, to solidify my decision—to merely reinforce that fact that the Fates had chosen her for me—she was miraculously going to be gone over the weekend . . . some family thing. I didn't really care what or why. I just took it as a blatant, fortuitous sign that this was supposed to happen.
It was now or never.
I knew what I had to do, but I couldn't risk a repeat of the last time I ingested Polyjuice Potion. So this time, I made sure that the hair that I collected was hers—
I ripped it directly from her Goddamned head.
I hadn't really planned it that way. It just kinda happened.
It was just like the Fates were still guiding me . . . possessing my actions to make the entire scheme come to life.
Walking down the hallway toward my next class, I was lost in thought contemplating how I was going to make everything come together, when a boisterous uproar of laughter snapped me from my thoughts.
Pansy, in all her glory, was suddenly presented to me.
She was surrounded by a hoard of Slytherin girls and was coming from the opposite direction—completely oblivious of my existence.
The thought came fast and unexpected—and it was a thought that was completely out of character.
But, oddly enough, I didn't hesitate for one instant. In fact, it only heightened the surge of adrenaline that I had been feeling ever since I began to put my plan in motion.
Lengthening my stride, I felt my pulse quicken—my heart beating painfully inside of my chest; thundering so loudly against my ribs, I was afraid that the other students walking beside me could hear it.
Yet, even if they did, they gave no inclination that they had any notion of what I was about to do.
Stealthily, I wiped my sweaty palms against the fabric of my skirt, before walking directly at her. In one smooth motion, I bumped against her shoulder, twisted my fingers into her hair, and yanked violently.
It felt surprisingly good.
Her scream bounced off of the stone walls and her friends immediately surrounded her in concern as she made a terrible ruckus, but I merely shrugged in mock apology and walked away clenching my prize—a few strands of her dark, greasy hair.
I felt like I was flying as a new wave of adrenaline flowed through my veins.
This was actually happening . . . Phase 2 complete . . . and I felt giddy at the mere thought.
Getting a uniform was easy enough, too—and much less violent. After supper, I simply waltzed into the utility room and swiped one from the laundry.
That night, I lay in bed, my eyes open and unseeing in the dark, thinking about the events of the day. I hadn't broken this many rules by myself in my entire life and I was bubbly at my new found confidence.
Tomorrow, everything was going to come together. I had no fear of anything going awry.
I was so excited, I couldn't sleep.
I couldn't stop thinking about the stolen robe hidden at the bottom of my trunk, just at the end of my bed. It poisoned my mind until I finally snuck out of bed and pulled it out.
Checking over my shoulder to ensure my roommates were asleep, I slipped the foreign garment on.
It hung from my body in ways that I wasn't used to—loose fitting around the waist, the hem hitting higher up on my calves. Pansy was similar in body shape to me—a little shorter, a little stockier, yes—but nothing too incredibly difficult to hide.
Moving surreptitiously across the room, I stood silently in front of the mirror. Even in the dim moonlit room, I could see my reflection and felt as if I were staring at a stranger.
And in a way, I was.
I wasn't acting like myself—I was being manipulative and devious, and wearing the uniform that bared the colors of my sworn enemies was only tangible proof.
The emerald green crest lined in metallic silver suddenly seemed to shine from the lapel of the robe and I fingered it gingerly.
It was as if a bolt of lightening suddenly traveled the length of my body and I gasped in surprise.
My body tingled unexpectedly—pleasurable waves pulsating over my flesh, causing my skin to feel alive as I ran my fingers over the smooth threads.
Closing my eyes, I imagined my fingers running over the crest that rested on Draco's strong, firm chest. Imagined standing near enough to take in his presence, his scent . . . his desire.
And then I imagined his hands trailing over my own Slytherin crest—his hands coming torturously close to my breast.
Breathing heavily, I felt my mouth go dry as my own hands brushed against my sensitive nipple. It stood erect, pushing against the thin fabric of my nightgown.
I suddenly felt weak as liquid heat pooled between my thighs as I slowly palmed the swollen mound—pressing down to lessen the new urges that were now causing my body to react.
Panting slightly, I opened my eyes, as a fresh surge of excitement flowed over me. Licking my lips, I smiled at the imposter in the Slytherin clothes.
Phase 3 was complete.
Leaning heavily on my hand, I picked aimlessly at my food.
I wasn't hungry.
In fact, I was completely out of sorts all day.
I had woken before the sun. Too excited to sleep, I dressed quickly, and made my way down to the Common Rom. Settling in a large, plush arm chair I silently watched the sun rise—throwing pink and orange streaks across the Lake. Like paint swirling down a drain, the colors mixed and blended, twisting first from a crimson red to pink to orange and finally to a blinding yellow as the full capacity of the sun illuminated the day.
But it wasn't just any day . . . . It was the day.
It had finally come—today I was going to become Pansy and seduce Draco.
I remember feeling a burst of excitement travel the length of my body. Taking a deep breath, I had calmed myself. It wasn't worth getting too eager this early.
I had to wait for the end of the day.
Classes went by torturously slow and I had trouble concentrating on what my professors were saying.
I knew that Harry and Ron were worried—they kept stealing sideways glances at me when I didn't jump at the chance to answer every question proposed by our teachers.
And finally, at dinner, Harry couldn't contain himself anymore.
"You feeling okay, 'Mione?"
"Hmmm?" Torn from my thoughts, I looked up confused.
"Are you okay?" He repeated the words slowly, his emerald green eyes searching my face in worry. "You seem . . . out of it today."
I shook my head, a fake smile spreading across my face. "No, I'm fine."
Ron and Harry shared a look that they thought I didn't see.
"You haven't touched your food." Ron looked down at the full plate in front of me.
Picking up my fork, I had all intentions of taking a bite to prove Ron wrong, but instead, I found myself just pushing the food around indolently.
Finally, I sighed and dropped the fork in defeat. "I guess I'm just not that hungry," I said with a shrug.
If that wasn't true before, it certainly was now . . . There was no room for food in my stomach because a giant knot had suddenly formed and was now lodged deep within my abdomen.
Draco had just walked in.
I felt light headed as I watched him walk across the Great Hall toward the Slytherin table. Brooding, a deep scowl etched across his porcelain face, he walked before his cohorts like a King. The crowd parted like he was royalty and he finally got to his normal spot and sat down.
I was suddenly stuck with a flash of panic.
I hadn't paid any attention as to whether Pansy was at the table or not, and I was abruptly paralyzed with fear that she hadn't left campus and was nestled among her housemates, sitting in her regular chair next to Draco—draped all over him and hanging on his every word.
I cursed my ignorance as my eyes quickly scanned the Slytherin table.
But, to my relief, I saw no sign of her.
I relaxed slightly, but I found that I couldn't tear my gaze from Draco. Using my peripherals, I watched him out of the corner of my eye.
He was bent over his plate, his shaggy hair falling in front of his face, covering his eyes. Taking a small bite, he chewed slowly, uninterested in his surroundings. I focused on his jaw-line—strong and tense . . . and watched, breathless, as his lips parted, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips.
Crabbe and Goyle said something that I couldn't hear and were suddenly laughing.
Draco looked up in annoyance.
Shaking the hair from his face, he narrowed his eyes. His silvery glare, as cold as ice, seemed to go right through them and find me.
Even from across the room, I could see how brilliantly bright his eyes were—a magnificent sterling—and I couldn't help but notice the emotion . . . the power . . . that seemed to radiate from them.
I felt warmth radiate from my womb, blanketing my body before settling at the apex of my thighs.
I squeezed my legs together and moaned lightly at the friction.
As if he heard me, Draco's eyes suddenly shifted until his gaze was boring directly at me.
The look lasted only a moment, but that was all it took.
With a gasp, I tore my eyes from his and immediately turned my attention to the top of the table, heat spreading up my neck and into my cheeks.
My lungs suddenly started to burn and I realized that, inadvertently, I had been holding my breath.
Shakily, I exhaled.
"Earth to Hermione!"
Ron's fingers snapping in front of my face brought me hurtling back to reality. I looked up sheepishly.
"Are you feeling okay?"
My mouth was so dry that I couldn't form any words, so I merely nodded.
Harry leaned in. "Are you sure? You look a little flushed."
Bringing my hands to my face, I felt my cheeks. They burned hot under my cool fingertips. The corner of my mouth twitched in embarrassment. "Perhaps I'm not feeling the best."
Without thinking, my eyes darted back to Draco. He was no longer focused in my direction. Quickly, I shifted my gaze back to Harry. He didn't appear to notice the slight transfer of attention.
Licking my lips nervously, I cleared my throat. "Maybe it would be best if I go lie down for awhile."
I pushed myself from the table, stepping over the bench before anyone had the chance to protest.
Slowly, I began to back away. "I'm sure it's nothing . . . I'll be good as new in the morning."
If they only knew . . . .
And with a hasty "goodnight," I hurried out of the Great Hall, being mindful to keep my head down as I passed the Slytherin table and the silvery stare of Draco Malfoy.
Up in my dorm, I lay in bed, my blankets pulled up to my chin.
I wasn't tired . . . nor was I ill. I hadn't even changed out of my clothes from supper. I had just crawled into bed and was now waiting.
So, surrounded in darkness, I ran through my plan—over and over—making sure that every last detail was in place as I watched the clock slowly tick by.
When my roommates came up for bed, I pretended to be asleep.
They dressed swiftly and wordlessly without light and I waited impatiently until their breathing became deep and even.
As their bodies soon found rest, quieting for the night, mine woke up.
Excitement twisted in my gut—like a million butterflies taking flight—and I inhaled deeply, pulling air deep within my lungs to calm myself.
It was time.
Gently, I threw the blankets from me and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Standing, I padded to my trunk, lifted the lid silently, and pulled out Pansy's uniform.
Tiptoeing, I made my way toward the door. It took all I had not to run.
I grasped the handle lightly and twisted.
To my horror, is groaned loudly beneath my hand.
Pausing—my heart in my throat—I strained my ears and listened.
One of my roommates stirred lightly in her sleep and I found myself holding my breath once more. With my eyes closed, I willed silence over the room, until I finally heard her settle once more.
Exhaling slowly, I paused for an additional moment to make sure that she was once again asleep. Then, with one final quarter turn of the handle, I pushed the door open and hurried out the door.
Squinting in the bright light, I glanced around quickly before slinking silently down the stairs.
It wasn't terribly late, and I was worried about meeting my housemates in the Common Room. But thankfully, as I neared the bottom of the stairs, the Fates were with me once more as the room was still.
Crossing the space quickly, I ducked through the Fat Lady's portrait and out into the hall.
Twisting my head, first this way than that, I scoured the hallway for any sign of Filch or Mrs. Norris and when I was confident they weren't around, I hurried down to Myrtle's Bathroom.
Slipping inside, I leaned heavily against the door, trying to catch my breath. Pressing my hand tightly against my chest, I could feel my heart pounding and I couldn't determine if it was from the running, or the mere excitement of what I knew was to come.
Muttering a quick locking charm at the door, I dropped the robes on the floor and began my preparation.
My hands were shaking as I began to unbutton my shirt. Pulling the fabric from my arms, I shivered in the dank chill of the lavatory. Pushing through the cold, I shimmied out of my skirt.
I suddenly felt self-conscious—clad only in my thin bra and panties—and I wished that I had checked the bathroom for other students.
It was a foolish thought—and I knew it as soon as it manifested in my head. Nobody used this space, let alone at this time of night, but it still did not help the feeling of being exposed.
Using only will-power, I shrugged the nagging sense aside as best as I could and hurriedly unhooked my bra and let it fall to the floor. My nipples stood hard and firm in the coolness of the air. Looking down at them, I couldn't help myself and touched them lightly with my fingertips.
My body tingled in reaction.
Bending, I picked up the robe from the floor and slid it over my shoulders. The fabric was cool and silkier than I had anticipated. I shivered as it settled over my physique and grazed my oversensitive nipples.
Stepping out of my panties, I felt a rush of adrenaline pump through me. I had never worn a school robe naked before and it was suddenly highly erotic in a very forbidden way.
I ran my hands down the length of my body, momentarily enjoying the feeling through the material before quickly zipping it—securing it around my frame.
Moving to the stall where I had hidden Polyjuice Potion, I paused to take a calming breath before taking out the sample of Pansy's hair.
It was now, or never.
My heart pounded in nervous anticipation as I leaned over the concoction and shook the hairs into the caldron.
Upon contact, the mixture began to bubble and hiss—popping noisily before turning a sickening shade of puce.
An odor—consisting of a combination of burnt hair and acetone—wafted upward and I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
Turning my head away from the stench, I held my breath as I filled a glass with a ladleful of the disgusting looking mixture.
Holding it in my hand, I stared at it apprehensively.
I was suddenly experiencing second thoughts. The memory of what had happened last time was vividly fresh in my mind.
What if I messed up again?
I couldn't afford the explanation at the hospital wing. Besides, this one would more than likely get me expelled.
Was it even worth it?
Draco's face materialized in front of me out of nowhere. My mouth dry, I scrutinized his face—his brilliant silver eyes . . . his regal cheekbones . . . his magnificent lips . . . his pink tongue as it wet his magnificent lips.
And I thought of what that tongue could do for me.
Could do to me.
My body responded—my legs weakening slightly.
This was the only way to get what I wanted. What I needed.
It was decided.
With trembling fingers—shaking more in excitement than fear—I picked up the glass and brought it to my lips.
I was confident in myself . . . .
This was going to work.
With one final breath, I opened my mouth and tipped the glass.
It tasted horrible—and I fought the urge to vomit as the goop slid slimily down my throat. But finally, after some struggling, I got it down.
Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I counted and waited for something to happen—any kind of reaction.
One . . . Two . . . Three . . .
Nothing was happening.
Four . . . Five . . . Six . . .
I listened to the sound of my breathing, focusing on how my body felt.
Seven . . . Eight . . . Nine . . .
I began to get worried.
Something was wrong.
Ten . . . Eleven . . . Twelve . . .
My insecurities came rushing at me full force.
Something wasn't right—I must have made a mistake.
Thirteen . . . Fourteen . . . Fifteen . . .
Surely, something should have happened by now.
Leaning forward, I stirred the mixture with the ladle and stared into the gunk—trying to see anything that was out of the ordinary.
But I soon realized that I didn't realize what ordinary was in Polyjuice Potion. It didn't look or smell like the potion we had made years ago.
Sixteen . . . Seventeen . . . Eighteen . . .
Or, did it?
I closed my eyes, trying to imagine it, but honestly, I couldn't remember. Besides, the last batch of Polyjuice Potion that I drank was tainted with cat hair—how could I use that as any sort of control?
My shoulders slumped.
I had messed this up—my only plan. Botched an entire month of planning and now, this wasn't going to happen.
I was disappointed.
Disappointed in myself, disappointed that my hopes had gotten so high, disappointed that—
I was hit with such a sudden wave of nausea that it nearly caused my knees to buckle.
My stomach was crawling—churning as if a thousand snakes were writhing deep within my abdomen.
I gasped as my body began to ripple and contort. I could feel my limbs changing—my face pulling—as I shrunk into the floor by a couple of inches.
My stomach lurched again and I fought the sickness that threatened from my mouth.
I really should have eaten something at supper.
Moaning, I wrapped my arms around my torso and doubled over. It was painful . . . nearly excruciating.
Something was seriously wrong.
But suddenly, just as soon as it started, it was over.
Straightening cautiously, I realized that I was shaking—traumatized by the whole ordeal. Slowly, the nausea left me.
I felt alien and odd. A stranger in my own body—well, in Pansy's body. But I felt happy and proud. It had worked, right?
It had to have.
Stepping from the stall, I walked toward the sinks, getting accustomed to my new legs.
Keeping my head down, I leaned heavily against the sink. With my eyes closed, I slowly counted to ten.
Then, taking a deep breath, I gradually brought my head up.
Phase 4 comp—
My hands flew to my face. "Oh, my God."