Chapter 3

Hermione had been in heaven; she loved being kissed. In fact, the only reason she had wrenched her lips away was because her face was turning blue. She also opened her eyes, and immediately wished she didn't. For in front of her, or rather, on top of her, was a large, fat, naked man, who looked more like a giant blob of chewing gum than her boyfriend. She tried to push him away from her, but couldn't find a place to grip.

So she squealed, "Oh god." Then she realised that her voice sounded deep, gravely, and certainly not the one she wanted. "Oh god," she muttered again, looking down at her once-firm boobs. A thoughtful expression flitted over her features for a moment, as she mumbled, "At least they'll fill a C Cup now."

It was then that Ron opened his eyes, having grown tired of waiting for her lips to return to his. One could see pain in his eyes. Denial set in. "I am not gay!" he firmly proclaimed. "It's a dream! I do most definitely not have sex with fat chicks, let alone men. Lord, I've seen blubber whales with less fat. I mean, what — whoa!" He stopped in his tracks, reconsidering his stance on the whole situation. "Nice boobs."

Hermione was annoyed, although secretly pleased with his last comment. "Look at yourself."

Ron did so, and screamed, "Aahh!" He was shocked at his new appearance; he was just so fat. He then hesitantly peered at his pelvic region, and his face began to pale quickly. "Where... did it go?" he whimpered quietly.

"Your what?" There was pain in her eyes too.

"My... precious."

She raised her eyebrows. Ron was preoccupied.

He was still looking down, rummaging through his barrels of stomach and waist fat. He pouted to himself fearfully, "What - what happened to... little Ronnie?"

Meanwhile, in a milk-bar far, far away, two boys, an angry door and a sentient muffin were pondering the events of the day; well, the muffin wasn't — it had returned to giggling uncontrollably.

Harry Potter was feeling quite out of place. Being as unique as he was, his days were usually out of the ordinary, but today surpassed any other. Constant attempts on his life were one thing; travelling across the world via muffin was an entirely different experience. He also wasn't sure what to think of the other boy's intimate knowledge of his sex life. The statement about the squid shook him especially. He didn't like discrimination and was all for inter-racial relationships, but inter-species? No, the idea of him and a squid made him shudder slightly.

The glass door was annoyed because it was bored. And it was bored because it wasn't angry. Therefore it was annoyed because it wasn't angry. It thoroughly agreed that being angry was a hell of a lot of fun, and since it wasn't angry, it was not having fun. So it was currently resorting to performing long division in its head. Figuratively of course; doors don't have heads, idiot.

Simon, on the other hand, was simply waiting for something sexy to happen.

It was perhaps a true testament to the strangeness of the situation that no-one questioned what a floating, laughing, talking and mocking muffin was doing there. In fact, Simon still hadn't wondered how a door knocked him in the head.

Harry, wishing to curb his exponentially increasing number of questions, asked the muffin eloquently, "What are you?"

The object in question immediately stopped laughing, and turned to the boy, offended. "What am I? Argh! I do everything I can to act human; I'm laughing at you, talking to you, and even being angry at you! Look, note my furrowed brow." Strange gestures followed.

Harry didn't notice anything, but nodded all the same. He was feeling guilty, and this guilt was magnified when some part inside of him called him an idiot for being made to feel guilty by a muffin.