Enemies with Benefits - A Drarry Story

A Mission Gone Wrong

          The trio stared into the cauldron, dreading the task at hand. Up close, the Polyjuice Potion Hermione had been brewing looked like bubbling mud in a swamp.

　　"I know I've done everything right," said Hermione, anxiously rereading the bookmarked page of Moste Potente Potions. "It looks exactly like the book says it should ... once we've drunk it, we'll have exactly one hour before we morph back into ourselves."

　　"Now what?" Ron croaked nervously.

　　"We separate it into three glasses and add the hairs."

　　Hermione ladled large dollops of the potion into three glasses. Then, grimacing, each dropped their hairs into a glass.

　　Hermione's turned a sickly yellow, Harry's turned a tan, booger-like color, and Ron's a murky brown.

          "...Ready?" said Harry.

　　"Ready," chorused Ron and Hermione, albeit hesitantly.

　　"One...two...three..."

　　Pinching his nose, Harry drank the potion down in two large gulps. Immediately, his insides started writhing as though he'd just swallowed live snakes—Ron seemed to be feeling the same thing.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," he said, rushing to one of the stalls.

After a moment, Hermione dropped her glass to the floor, and as it shattered, she murmured "Me too," and hurried to another stall.

Harry, left alone at the sinks, suddenly felt a burning sensation as the skin all over his body bubbled almost like hot wax—and in the mirror, before his eyes, the bubbles began to form into Goyle's chubby face.

　　Then everything stopped. Harry stared, awestruck, into the mirror. His large hand trembling, he patted his new face softly,  then headed toward the stalls. 

          "Are you two okay?" Goyle's low rasp of a voice issued from his mouth.

　　"Yeah," came Crabbe's deep grunt.

　　Ron's door opened. They stared at each other. Except for the fact that he looked pale and shocked, Ron was indistinguishable from Crabbe, from the bowl cut to the long, gorilla arms.

　　"This is unbelievable..." said Ron, approaching the mirror and prodding Crabbe's flat nose.

　　"We'd better get going," said Harry. "Before we use up half the hour."

　　Ron, who had been gazing at Harry, said, "You don't understand how bizarre it is to see Goyle thinking." He banged on Hermione's door. "C'mon, we need to go—"

　　A high-pitched voice answered him.

　　"I-I don't think I'm going to come after all. You go on without me."

　　"Hermione, we know Millicent Bulstrode's ugly, no one's going to know it's you—"

　　"No— really— I don't think I'll come. You two hurry up, you're wasting time!"

　　Harry looked at Ron, bewildered.

　　"That looks more like Goyle," Ron sniggered. "That's how he looks every time a teacher asks him a question."

　　Harry looked at his watch. Five of their precious sixty minutes had already passed. "We'll meet you back here, all right?" he said.

　　Harry and Ron opened the door of the bathroom carefully, checked that the coast was clear, and set off.

　　They went down the marble staircase. All they needed now was a Slytherin that they could follow to the Slytherin common room, but there was nobody around except for a curt-looking Percy Weasley.