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"ERM, HERMIONE, WHO DID YOU GUYS GET THESE HAIRS FROM?" paris exclaimed uneasily, stepping out from the fireplace as she caught up with them standing by the rather frightening muggle statue in the middle of the great atrium.
ron and harry burst out laughing as they saw her— now a tall, dark-haired man probably around in his 40s. she was wearing one of the ministry's guard uniforms with a matching frown her face.
"i'm hideous!" she groaned.
"it's only for—" harry began, but stopped himself. "how long did you say these polyjuice potions will last, hermione?"
"i didn't."
"you're joking, right?" paris exclaimed, although a few people started giving her a look, and she tried to switch her voice to a deeper, more gruff tone. "i've already had to go in the men's toilets—which were disgusting, by the way— and now you're telling me i could randomly switch back? give me strength..."
"we just have to be calm, okay? you'll be fine." hermione assured, clutching her black briefcase. "just try to blend in."
"alatar!" a voice shouted from being them— belonging to a other man wearing a guards uniform, who was roughly clutching the arm of a confused visitor. "you gonna stand here and chat all day? or are you gonna do your job? we need to take this one to level two."
"paris, i think he's talking to you." harry hissed.
the girl gulped, nodding and clearing her throat. "erm— right. coming." she awkwardly seized the other arm of the helpless man, following the other guard away.
harry, ron and hermione sent her a guilty look before taking a deep breath and making their way towards the elevators.
