Hermione remembered well: Only a few days before she'd wished not only peace, but a hearty laugh to 'all men of good will' and - being in an extraordinary kind mood then - she'd included potion master Severus Snape in her wish. But by now she was thinking of her father's trademark warning: "Be careful with what you wish. You may get it." And with that came a forceful need not to hex, but to throttle said potion master just for the fact that he laughed. And how he laughed! His entire body was shaking with it, tears rolled down over his cheek, his pale face had become red and the sound of his deep laughter roared through the staff room and made the chandelier ring.
Yet the absolutely worst thing about the potion master's laughter was not that he laughed at Hermione's cost, but that this damned laughter was infectious! It made Harry chuckle - with a face even more purple than the potion master's because he actually knew that he shouldn't laugh on Hermione's account, it made Albus - and wasn't he actually a champion in keeping a straight face even under the oddest circumstances? - studying the hem of his sleeve as if he'd expect to find there Merlin's long lost invisibility spell and even worse: Hermione herself felt the corners of her mouth twitching although she still felt an urge to slap Snape, although she'd cried after the discovery of being a duck and although she'd provided Albus with a few haematoma on his shin bone by kicking him under the table for telling. Yet she simply couldn't resist joining the potion master in his laughter. Fair girl as she was, she had seen that the thought of her as a duck was quite funny and Merlin helped: Although she wished for something more heroic or at least more useful - it had been fun to glide over the pond and to play with the cloud.
Besides: Albus had not spent almost one hour of comforting and calming her for nothing. He'd told her she couldn't be absolutely sure about being a duck because growing feathers and liking water could mean a lot of other animals - like great crested crepes, gooses (she fiercely hoped she wouldn't become a goose in the end. Probably Severus Snape wouldn't make it in one piece through the laughter this would provoke him to) or gulls ('Albus - gulls don't paddle around on ponds!' - 'Don't they? If I were a gull, I would!'). And he'd made her see the advantages of being a duck too.
"First and best," he'd said, "a duck can fly. That comes in handy quite often".
Hermione still had sulked. "A duck can't fly as fast and good as a falcon"
"Yes, that's true, but as far as I know, ducks are better at long distances. They're crossing the Atlantic, don't they? Gyrfalcons don't go this far - even in very strong winters they rarely make it farther away from their native Nordic Islands as to Denmark or the north of Germany."
"I actually don't intend on flying over the Atlantic," Hermione had said. "If I ever want to visit America, I'd take a muggle airplane - surely it is much more comfortable than flying all the way as a duck."
"Then think of other advantages," Albus had tried again. "Ducks can swim."
"Great!" Hermione had made a face. "I hope you don't forget to tell the giant squib about me. I'd hate to become his dinner - even if he'd prepare me as duck a l'orange.'
'As far as I know, he doesn't like ducks. Too many feathers, you know? They're probably not good for his digestion," Albus had answered thoughtfully.
"I don't want to be impolite against him or you, Albus, but I must admit that gaining knowledge about the giant squid's digestion never ranked high on my to-do-list," Hermione had answered sourly. "To think of myself as something a lot of people and animals could find delicious is one of the things I really dislike about becoming a duck."
At this place Albus had obviously decided to change his tactic from making her look at the bright side - which she couldn't find as bright as he did - to distraction. He'd taken her in his arms and nibbled on her ear, he'd whispered: "Would you mind too if I'd find you delicious in your human form?"
