DISCLAIMER:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

It's Not Easy Being Green

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

Hermione was a frog. She had not always been a frog, two days earlier she was a normal seventeen year old in the throes of exam panic running late from the library to Advanced Charms class when a shower of sparks, followed by a thud of books and 'poof' found her transformed into a small green and yellow-bellied amphibian without a care in the world.

She quickly realised she had been transformed - not a sudden flash of animagus ability or a smooth transfiguration, but permanently changed from one thing to another. Every good witch and wizard knew that transfigurations had a terminal lifespan, two days of being something 'so small' after being something 'so large' was unheard of. She had been transformed and she needed the counter curse to reverse it or she could be stuck in the froggy way forever.

Being a frog was not all that bad. It was early summer and the temperature was pleasant. The insects hiding in Hogwarts dank corners were numerous and succulent. Hermione felt no disgust over her sudden tendency to salivate and croak in delight at the site of an arachnid or fly. She had always been a pragmatic girl. On the bright side, such simple fulfilment as seeing food, eating food, and sitting dozing in the sunshine with a full tummy and sublime smile on your face seemed the closet thing to bliss she had ever experienced.

However, two days was a long time for a small creature with a fast metabolism and a young woman's brain. Two days and nights of thinking froggy thoughts and cleverly avoiding Mrs Norris claws and hisses was getting old very fast, there was, unfortunately a limit to the idyll.

Feeling lonely Hermione glumly hopped up and down the corridors of Hogwarts waiting for someone to notice that Hermione Granger – meddlesome 'know it all' and all round large, cumbersome witch and Head Girl had vanished. But all her fellow students either appeared too busy chattering about the upcoming exams, each other or Quidditch that they did not notice her absence or nearly stepped on her when she hopefully hopped up to them.

By the end of the second day Hermione was getting desperate. She could not go on like this!

She spent most of the afternoon basking on a windowpane in a sliver of sunlight and devising a cunning plan. By half past three she was in position, lying in wait to execute it. Finally the telltale vibration of chairs being shoved back and the trample of feet told her it was time. Patiently she waited as a sea of faces swept past her, the last class of the day was over and the students were on their way to an early dinner. Choosing her moment and victim with care Hermione released the suction hold on the glass, performed a world-class Olympic quality half-piked somersault and landed with an audible splat on Lavender Brown's pasty neck as the girl swept past with Ginny Weasley by her side.

Being a scientist in training, Hermione knew that the result of any action was an equal and opposite reaction. Or more simply: a frog to the neck leads to a quick, yet violent sympathetic drive to 'fright and flight'; a complimentary world-class sympathetic 'fight and flight response' in Lavender's case.

Hermione clung on to Lavender as she flapped and shrieked down the hallway. Lying low as they dashed into the Great Hall just as most of the school was just sitting down to the first course of dinner. Trying her best to dodge flailing hands and closing her eyes to a spinning world. Hermione prayed Lavender would not stop panicking and start thinking or else all would be lost. There was no danger of that as Lavender continued to twirl about like a spinning top, flinging her hair and hands and screaming incoherent obscenities about Neville Longbottom's and Trevor's parentage.

"What is the meaning of this?" A very loud and scary male voice made the diaphragms at Hermione's ear holes vibrant painfully.

The world stilled for a moment and Hermione could feel the pounding of Lavender's pulse beneath her soft belly.

"Oh no…" She heard Lavender's soft plea.

More in fright Hermione released her hold and flew through the air to plop down into a lukewarm bowl of what tasted suspiciously like mushroom soup.

Feeling dizzy and nauseous… Hermione felt herself being levitated up and held in mid air.

She opened her eyes, extended her long tongue to lick her eyeballs clean and gazed into a pair of slanted angry black eyes beneath incredibly hairy black caterpillar eyebrows.

"Headmaster?" The same loud male voice growled making her tremble, the caterpillars drew together and a line formed between them. "There appears to be a frog in my soup!"

@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~@~~

A funny thought that became a story, should I continue?