A/N: Hi there. This is a little something that came to me as I was listening to the audiobook of Deathly Hallows.

This is a little aside from Hermione's POV as she has a little trouble with her Harry-self

I hope you find the idea as funny as I did, or at least, I hope I have portrayed poor Hermione's dilemma as amusing.

I know I should be working on one of my three unfinished stories, but this wouldn't go away. I am working on the next chapter of Severus Snape and the Muggle.

This is taken from the book, not the movie, but there are a couple of changes., beside the obvious.


Harry's Other Wand

"There will be seven Harry Potter's moving through the skies tonight..."

Hermione watched as Harry sprinkled his hairs into the flask of Polyjuice Potion. She daren't look at Harry; she knew he was furious. She couldn't really blame him, the poor guy had no choice as to what went down this evening; it had all been decided well and truly before they even got here, without reference to Harry.

They had held a meeting last night at the Burrow Mrs Weasley had been the only dissenter and she had argued long and vociferously. Hermione couldn't really blame her for her attitude either. It wasn't as is she didn't want to get Harry there safely, of course she did. But most of her family were going to be put in danger and she wasn't going to allow them to go off and put their lives on the line without letting them know her feelings. The fact that she was unable to stop even Ron did not sit well with her, especially when his father came down on Ron's side.

No, Mrs Weasley was not a happy camper.

As Moody shook the flask and the potion began to froth and bubble, Hermione was shaken from her reverie. "Ooh, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle, Harry," she couldn't help exclaiming. She caught sight of Ron's raised eyebrows and she felt herself going red.

"You know what I mean," she added quickly, "Goyle's Potion looked like bogies. Hermione snapped to attention when Moody growled for all the fake Potters to line up. While there was an altercation going on about the smelly sneak-thief, Mundungus, Hermione's thoughts returned to the thing that had been on her mind since she had volunteered to be Polyjuiced into Harry.

There was no question that she wanted to be involved in the plan that would get her best friend away from his horrible relatives for the last time and safely ensconced with the family who had surely become his surrogate family. The plan was the best they had, even if it would only protect him until Harry turned seventeen. Harry's plans did not include staying sheltered at the Burrow.

She and Ron had not told the rest of the Order that little skerrick of information.

She and Ron had been the first to put their hands in the air when volunteers were called for and Fred and George had come a very close third and fourth. She had gone to bed last night with Mrs Weasley's lamentations ringing in her ears and for a while, her thoughts had centred on Ron's mother's entirely understandable fears.

The distraught woman's angry and tear-streaked face swam before her eyes and Hermione's thoughts had automatically skipped to her own parents. And even though her own eyes filled with the tears that had been so close to the surface since she had used powerful magic on her mother and father, she knew, after witnessing one mother's fear and distress, that she had done the right thing.

It was only as sleep had begun to creep into the corners of her mind that Hermione's ever-curious thoughts had conjured an image that had at once shocked her and made her clamp a hand over her mouth as an uncontrollable giggle slipped past her lips.

Oh, my! Why hadn't she thought of this earlier—not that the image she had conjured would have made her change her mind about helping Harry. No, she loved Harry and would do anything to help protect him.

But still—this was going to be really, really weird.

Mad-Eye thrusting a small cup filled with a measure of Potion into her hand brought Hermione sharply back to the present again. She looked at the gloopy golden liquid, aware that Ron, Fred, and George had immediately lifted their cups to their lips and swallowed their portions, while Mad-Eye had to force-feed Mundungus. Fleur, she saw, was staring from her measure of Potion to Harry.

Hermione wondered if the beautiful, part-Veela shared her own musings about Harry and Polyjuice. Had Beauxbaton Academy of Magic taught their students the properties of Polyjuice Potion? Had Fleur ever experienced the effects of the complicated and little used Potion?

Hermione became aware that Remus was watching her and when he made a move towards her, she threw a quick, reassuring smile at him and raised the cup to her lips. Remus fell back, but as she swallowed the horrible liquid, her eyes met Fleurs' over the rims of their cups: she had her answer, Fleur's thoughts had followed the same trajectory as her own.

As her features and her body contorted painfully, Hermione remembered the last time she had suffered through the uncomfortable transformation. But as she had been going to become another girl back in her second year, she had not had to worry about being the part time owner of a certain anatomical anomaly known only to boys.

When Hermione 's body relaxed into its new incarnation, she was immediately aware that her eyesight was just as sharp as it had always been: Polyjuice Potion obviously did not gift the taker with any weaknesses or otherwise of the donor's eyes, only their shape and colour. She stood immobile for several long seconds, becoming used to her new conformation. She suddenly realised that her bra was cutting cruelly into her torso and when her hands flew to her chest, it was a shock to find the lace cups were empty. Her breasts weren't all that big, but it was disconcerting to not feel the twin protuberances, only firm muscle behind the too tight binding.

"Get on with it Granger," growled Moody and Hermione jumped, so caught up was she with the unfamiliar contours of her new body.

"You'll find bigger clothes in that pile over there." Hermione almost fell over as she stepped towards the pile of clothes; it was much easier said than done getting used to the dimensions of her Harry body. The next thing that cruelly impinged upon her consciousness was that her feet were being strangled to death by her too-small trainers. With a squeak of discomfort, she tried to toe one trainer off, but it refused to budge. With a little whimper of pain, she lowered herself to the floor, finding the movement slightly awkward; her Harry body was definitely not as supple as her Hermione body.

Once her (his) butt made contact with the floor and she pulled one tortured foot up to untie her laces, Hermione widened Harry's eyes as her skimpy knickers tightened cruelly around her male nether regions and she felt a foreign something pop out of the high cut leg hole of the knickers. Oh, my!

Hermione sat there with one trainer in her hand and a look of horror on Harry's face; she so hoped his face looked as suitably horrified as she felt. She sat there in shock, trying not to squirm and took in the frantic noise and activity going on around her; she saw Fleur looking at her reflection in the glass door of the microwave as she reached back to undo her bra. Hermione couldn't believe it when the other woman said, "Bah, Bill, don't look at me—I'm 'ideous.' Fleur gave the bra to Bill and tripped, bare-chested and bare-footed across to the pile of clothes; seemingly Fleur had been forward thinking enough to remove her own shoes before she grew into Harry's feet.

Hermione wondered how the beautiful witch could be concerned about her looks at a time like this when, like her, a foreign body had taken up residence in her knickers. But then again, she thought, as she took her other trainer off, perhaps Fleur wasn't wearing high-cut knickers, perhaps she was wearing the more French 'boy-cut' style. she certainly wasn't exhibiting any obvious discomfort or discombobulation.

"Come on, Hermione, get with the program, said a Harry whom she was sure was Ron. The Harry/Ron tilted his head to the side and stared at her concernedly...Hermione had to admit that Harry's features lent themselves more easily to concern than Ron's. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine," squeaked Hermione; at least she felt as if the voice that issued from her throat should have been a squeak, but in actuality, the noise was too deep to be a squeak.

"Well, come on, Mad-Eye's beginning to look like he might explode at any moment and you know what an angry Mad-Eye can do. You don't want to be turned into a ferret, do you?"

For a brief second, Hermione actually thought she would prefer to be a ferret than to be Harry, but common sense prevailed and she jumped up, and nearly fell down again. She couldn't get used to any aspect of Harry's body, his long torso, his long legs, his long...

She wanted to Scourgify her brain as image after image chased across its landscape. She wondered if she might throw up. With panicked haste, she gathered up a T-shirt, a zip up jacket, grotty trainers (Harry's nose wrinkled in distaste) and a pair of jeans from the pile.

"Granger!" Moody barked again and Hermione whimpered—she knew she was holding up the works—and scrabbled more frantically, not finding what she wanted...what she desperately needed if a certain part of Harry wasn't going to become gangrenous because it was caught in the leg of her way too tight knickers. It was really beginning to smart, and if anything, it felt as if it was swelling.

Shit! When she kept rummaging frantically through the mass of fabric, Tonks appeared beside her. She knelt down beside the frantic girl. "Hermione, what's the problem?"

"I want... I need... I have to have..."

"Breathe!" ordered Tonks, grabbing one of Hermione/Harry's hands. Hermione sat back on Harry's heels. She desperately needed to adjust her underwear but she was suddenly aware of thirteen pairs of eyes—six of them brilliant green—focused on her. She leaned forward at the waist a little in an effort to relieve the pressure, but it didn't work. Now the—the thing was twice the size it had been, and by God that had been big enough! She whimpered again and looked at Tonks' with pleading eyes.

Tonks, God bless her, seemed to realise that there was something really wrong with the usually, level-headed and ultra-bright girl. She jumped up and began to usher the others towards the door. "I'll see to Hermione, Mad-Eye," she said with authority. "Why don't you and the other's go outside and begin to get ready for the off?"

"When it looked as if Mad-Eye would have something to say, Tonks bestowed a narrow-eyed glare upon him that had the gruff ex-Auror grunting in disapproval but hobbling after the others as they moved through the kitchen and out into the back garden.

Tonks stood with crossed arms watching the exodus and when the house was empty she turned back to Hermione who was still kneeling on the floor; but now she was bent double at the waist with her head resting on the remains of the clothing pile. The Metamorphmagus rushed forward and knelt next to her young friend.

""Hermione, what is it?" she asked, her voice full of concern.

Hermione straightened and raised her tear streaked face. Tonks' concern increased at the misery she saw etched on her young friends' face—well, Harry was her young friend too—and she put out a hand to automatically offer comfort. But Hermione was suddenly all action: after a quick glance around to make sure the room was empty of all Harries and assorted others, she jumped to her feet and frantically scrabbled at the clasp of her jeans. Tonks looked on in amazement as the whimpering girl danced a little jig, turning in tight little circles as she worked her overly tight jeans and knickers down Harry's hips.

Tonks mouth dropped open as a pair of very masculine, very taut buttocks greeted her eye-level gaze and when Hermione danced full circle again, Tonks' eyes nearly popped out of her head upon seeing what was now at eye level.

Tonks' hair turned red along with her cheeks and Hermione's obvious relief immediately turned to embarrassment. She hurriedly turned her back again, not sure whether to be embarrassed for Harry or herself.

"Hermione!' exclaimed Tonks. "How on Earth..."

"I don't know," wailed Hermione. "My clothes were too tight and it escaped out the leg of..." she stopped talking. Tonks had started to laugh. She laughed so hard, she rolled onto her side, clutching her stomach. Hermione huffed in irritation.

"Stop laughing. I was in agony. It just kept getting bigger and..."

Tonks laughed harder. Tears ran down her cheeks.

Hermione left her to it. She sat down (more than a little disconcerted at the bobbing member between her legs) and pulled her jeans and knickers right off. Deciding it was no use looking for any underpants, she knew she had to go commando. When she stood up again to pull the Harry-sized jeans up, she discovered that the rampant flesh was not going to let her do the fly up without performing an unwitting amputation!

She let out a little roar of frustration before grabbing the T-shirt and pulling it over her head. "How in the name of Merlin's pants, do they put up with this—this..." she indicated her nether regions. Tonks had nearly gathered herself together but now she fell about laughing again.

"A great lot of good you are," huffed Hermione, pulling the zip of the jacket up and inspecting her pelvic regions to see if she could make any further progress. she didn't want to touch it, but it needed taming, and with a little moue of distaste, she tried to tuck the recalcitrant organ away.

"Would you like some help with that?" asked Tonks but it was obvious she didn't expect an answer because she was snorting with laughter again.

"How old are you?'' asked a disgusted Hermione, still intent on her task.

Tonks made a concerted effort to get her hysteria under control. She gave a final tee hee and inclined her head towards Hermione/Harry's groin. "Old enough to appreciate that, my innocent young thing," she answered seriously.

Hermione looked at Tonks and then lowered her own eyes. She had been trying to avoid looking at it, knowing that it belonged to her friend. It was still quite magnificently tumescent and Hermione had made little progress with the zip..

"How do I get rid of it?" asked a worried Hermione.

With another snort, Tonks said, "Just lay back and think of England."

Hermione looked at her as if she was crazy and Tonks said, "Cor, Hermione, you really are an innocent. With all that reading you do, surely you've read a few bodice-rippers."

Hermione's nose rose slightly. "No I haven't," she said with some pride.

"Not even in the name of research?"


Tonks shook her head. "Hermione, Hermione," she said despairingly.

"I am not totally uninformed," retorted Hermione. "I've read all about the male anatomy and... and..."

"Sex,?" said Tonks helpfully.

"No! Well, not in the sense of the actual act, but in the sense of the theoretical."

Tonks shook her head again. "Hermione, theory cannot take the place of experience. If not actual experience, then second-hand experience via the written word can be most gratifying. You would certainly learn more about that," she said, indicating Hermione/Harry's groin with an inclination of her head.

Hermione clamped her lips together, not wanting to hear what an innocent she was. If a certain person who would remain nameless, would look at her as something other than a friend, she would be perfectly happy to gain all the experience he cared to share with her. He after all, had gotten plenty of experience last year with a certain Gryffindor who, it was said, had experience coming out of her wazoo!

Suddenly Hermione became aware of a lessening of tension down below. Drawing in Harry's already flat stomach, she peeked downwards and saw that the unseemly bulge had receded—a lot. With a sigh of relief, she tucked Harry's appendage away and carefully pulled up the zip.

Tonks sighed.

"What?" asked Hermione, picking up the last pair of glasses and placing them carefully on her nose before grabbing up a cage with a Hedwig replica inside.

"Such a shame," Tonks lamented.

"What is?"

Tonks pointed to the closed zipper.

"A magnificent work of art like that shouldn't be hidden away."

"Tonks!" exclaimed Hermione, scandalized.

"What?" laughed Tonks, as she moved towards the door.

" This is Harry's work of art you're talking about. I don't think I'll ever be able to look him in the eye again."

"Shame," returned Tonks, "'cause his eyes are nearly as magnificent as his..."


Tonks laughed and opened the back door. As she and Hermione moved into the centre of the crowd of witches and wizards aboard their various means of transport, the Metamorphmagus leaned into Hermione and whispered in her ear.

"If I wasn't a happily married woman and wasn't afraid of being called a cradle-snatcher, I wouldn't mind getting up close and personal with Harry's other wand!"

The End

Reviews would be lovely...thank you.