SO, this particular plot has been done many times...but I thought I'd give it a try. See if you like it. Basically, Hermione and Draco end up trapped in each other's bodies and must learn to cope with their unusual situation for at least two months...without telling anyone! They hate it and hate each other even more, but maybe, just maybe, they'll learn a few things about each other that will bring them closer (well, of course, this is a romantic pairing).

It was a chilly morning in December when Hermione Granger stirred in her bed. It was Sunday, and although there were no classes, she woke up around eight-thirty.

"Mmmm…" she murmured, stretching her limbs and getting ready to roll out of bed. Her throat sounded a bit rough. Perhaps it was all the cheering from the previous night's Quidditch match and the dormitory celebrations that had ensued; Gryffindor had had a neat victory over Hufflepuff.

But what she wasn't prepared for was another murmur that answered her own. The voice belonged to a warm body that Hermione consciously realized was snuggled next to her in her own bed.

Hermione spent about half her nights in her Head Girl room, and half in the Gryffindor Tower, so it wasn't unusual that she woke up to the voices of a bunch of girls. It was sometimes lonely, after six academic years of living with your fellow classmates, to sleep in a single room all the time.

She opened on eye. "Ginny?"

Smack! Hermione didn't know what, or rather who, had hit her, but suddenly she was left with a handprint on her cheek and birdies floating around her head.

"God, that's the fourth time! The fourth time that you say another girl's name instead of mine after we've spent a night together!" the voice next to her screeched, and Hermione, though still dazed, registered that Pansy Parkinson was screaming in her ear.

"Huhh?"

"Is that all you can say? You apologize this instant!" Pansy demanded. All Hermione could think of was how Pansy was wearing a skimpy red nightie and how angry she looked. Why was she dressed that way, anyhow? The situation was ridiculous.

Hermione didn't trust herself to speak, but instead slithered out of her bed. Pansy did the same, and suddenly it occurred to Hermione that she was standing in a room with forest green walls. Her own walls were white with scarlet chair rails. She also noticed the curtains that afforded each girl in the room privacy in her own four-poster were now green, in fact, and not scarlet. What was going on?

Before Hermione could piece the rest of the puzzle together, Pansy was obscuring her view, hands on her hips and scowling.

Then Hermione realized she was almost a foot taller than Pansy.

Pansy was petite, but Hermione couldn't be so much taller.

She racked her brain and tried to think of a logical reason why she was so tall. Had she mistakenly taken any Fast Gro potions? Could someone have slipped something into her drink as a joke?

She was amused for the moment to think that this must be what Hagrid felt like all the time; he was always looking down upon everyone.

She was yanked back to the present as her eyes returned to Pansy. What was she doing here?

She hadn't realized she'd spoken the question aloud, but now Pansy was yelling again.

"What do you mean, What am I doing here??!! Why are you always so selfish and act like I don't mean anything? This is the last time you treat me like this! I mean it! No more nice, forgiving Pansy."

"Shut up for a minute, will you? I'm trying to think." Hermione was irritated, having woken up in the same bed as Pansy Parkinson, and still very confused.

Her brain wasn't up to scratch that morning, or she would have chosen her words more carefully. Pansy slapped her again and walked out of the room, leaving in her wake a flabbergasted and aching Hermione.

"Aughhh," she groaned, feeling her face. It hurt very much.

She could near laugher, and distinct male laugher at that, within the curtains of the four-posters.

"Can't say you didn't deserve that, Draco," one voice said. "You could have been a little quieter, though. I can't go back to sleep."

"Yeah, why can't you just put a muzzle on her or something?"

Hermione froze; they all thought she was Draco Malfoy. Hadn't they heard her speaking? Well, her voice was a little hoarse, after all. She realized she had to leave the room, before anyone saw her and realized she was Hermione Granger who was stuck in the Slytherin dormitory…

She paused. Pansy had seen her; and Pansy had thought she was Draco Malfoy, she was sure. Their conversation wouldn't have made any sense otherwise.

As she traced the line of her jaw, wincing as she felt the pain of Pansy's slap, her eyes widened.

There was stubble on her chin.

Hermione Granger didn't have facial hair.

She gingerly patted her hands against her thighs. Her thighs were muscular and overly large.

She felt her bottom—much too big for her body. Unless she'd been Bertha Butt all these years, and no one had told her.

Then her hands traveled to the other side. Now her eyes were wide as saucers.

"Oh...my…God."

"Oh, she'll be back. She never stays mad for long." Blaise Zabini opened his bed curtains and chuckled, looking at Hermione as if there was nothing in the world wrong with this picture.

"Omigod. No, no, no, no, no!"

"What's wrong?" Zabini asked.

"This can't be happening!"

"You always said you wanted space. She's annoying, admit it."

"Something's wrong, I have to find McGonagall, she'll understand…"

"What in the name of Merlin's left testicle are you talking about?"

"I have to leave. Goodbye."

Hermione fled the room.

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Draco Malfoy felt like he'd been sleeping in a bird's nest. Every time he'd moved his damn head tossing and turning to fall back asleep in the morning hours, his face was scratched by something rough and hairy. It felt like straw.

It was about ten o'clock that morning, and he usually slept until noon on the weekends, but today he felt like he had to get up.

He opened his steely blue eyes, blinked, and opened them again. He saw brown. He shook his head again and wiped the crusties from his eyes. Pulling back the curtains of his bed, he remembered that he had gone to bed with Pansy last night; she must have already awoken and left. Good. He didn't want her company this morning.

"So, boys, what's on the agenda today?" he asked as the light of the room hit him.

He noticed a few things at once as he dangled his legs from the bed: the room was whitish, and the bed curtains were scarlet; his legs were two sticks that were more or less shaved; his toenails were painted light pink; and he was sitting upright, staring at Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown.

"Listen, Hermione, can't I please, please do your hair today? I could really do a number on it." Brown was looking at him with liquid brown eyes and suddenly he was afraid.

They were addressing him as if he were the Mudblood. Certainly the legs didn't belong to him.

He closed his eyes again. He must be dreaming.

"So? Can I do your hair?"

He opened his eyes and that damned silly girl was still standing in front of him. He gave her his meanest glare. "No! Go away!"

She exchanged a look with Patil, and they left the room.

He dragged his body out of bed and felt some extra appendages bounce along with him. Oh. Right. If he was indeed a girl, he had breasts. Except these breasts were kind of small. Pansy was bigger.

He forced himself to look in the mirror, surprised at how calmly he was taking this transformation. When he saw his appearance with his own eyes, however, he fell to the floor in a dead faint.