Title: Adventures in Polyjuice
Author: eeyore9990
Characters: Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Lavender Brown
Rating: R
Warnings: Honestly? I can't think of any. You might disagree, of course. :P
Themes/kinks chosen: Coitus a mammalia
Word Count: ~2500
Summary: Vince and Greg find a better use for their cross-gender polyjuicing.
Author's notes: You know, I'm just surprised I haven't seen this before. Also, for those who will no doubt wonder WTF I was thinking, just know, there's not many opportunities to have a man scream out, "Ow, get off my hair!" while writing slash.

---

Lavender stood at the sink, applying a fresh layer of kohl to her eyes. Whispering from behind her made her sigh in irritation and turn to see two young, small girls—Slytherins, of course—standing in the corner of the girl's loo watching her. Rolling her eyes, Lavender capped the stick of kohl and put it back in her bag, slinging the pack over her shoulder before turning to leave.

"Excuse me," one of the girls said, stepping forward and placing herself between Lavender and the door.

Lavender stopped, a bit taken aback at how… odd the girl sounded. The voice was right, high and clear, but something about the inflection of her voice made it seem as if she was accustomed to issuing threats.

Oh, well, Slytherin…

Flipping her hair back, Lavender raised her eyebrows and used her most supercilious tone to say, "Yes, what do you want? I have to go to Charms—"

"Your hair is so pretty. How do you get it that way?"

Lavender relaxed, pleased at the compliment. "I have a special shampoo that I use. And one hundred strokes each night with a horse-hair brush before bed." Lowering her voice, she added, "Unicorn hair is even better, if you can afford it."

"May I—" The other little girl pushed away from where she'd been lurking in the corner and stepped forward. "May I touch it?"

Lavender smiled. Such sweet kids, it was hard to believe they were really Slytherin. "If your hands are clean, of course you may. Don't tangle it, now." Leaning forward, she allowed her hair to swing over her shoulders again and stood for a moment to allow the girls to pet her beautiful hair. A sharp tug made her wince and say, "Careful, now. Just touching, no pulling."

"Oh, yes. Err. Sorry."

Lavender smiled again, though it was slightly strained this time. "No problem. However, I do have to go to class. If you like, perhaps you can come to my common room later and brush my hair for me?" A little spark of glee lit inside her as she congratulated herself on using these two girl's infatuation with her hair to get something none of her dorm-mates would do—brush her hair for her.

"Oh, n—oof!"

"Yes, that would be, umm, lovely."

"You're welcome," Lavender said pointedly, not missing this chance to instil some manners in the girls. Just because they came from a rather heathen House didn't mean they couldn't learn better.

"Oh, yeah, thanks."

"I'll be going now. You two might want to hurry along to your classes, as well."

The girl on the right with the long plaits shrugged and said, "No classes. Free period."

Lavender sighed, recalling her younger days. "Must be nice. Well, I'm off! Knock at the portrait of the Fat Lady on the Seventh Floor, Gryffindor Tower after dinner tonight and I'll be happy to let you in for that brushing."

The girls waved, seemingly distracted, but Lavender didn't notice, as she was catching one last glance at herself in the mirror before she darted out of the loo to her next class.

~*~

"Stupid bint."

"Gryffindor, what'd you expect?"

Anyone listening would have found the conversation between the two girls odd, but as most other students were in class—and this was a seldom-used loo on the third floor—no one was actually around to listen.

"We should go."

"We have ten minutes."

"Don't want to run into Professors."

"Right, let's go."

The two girls made their way stealthily down four flights of stairs before pausing in front of a long stretch of wall and uttering a single word. The wall opened up to show a passageway which they ducked quickly into, not looking back.

"How many did you get?"

"A few. Enough."

"I want a go, too."

"After me."

Stepping into the common room, the two girls ignored Pansy Parkinson who was curled up on a corner of the long couch and stepped toward the stairs that led down to the boy's dorm.

"Ugh, hurry. My stomach."

Bursting through the door to the sixth year boy's dorm, the two girls stumbled toward the first bed and fell onto it, bodies contorting and stretching… and stretching… and stretching some more. When they finally lay gasping, bodies no longer moving in grotesque and unusual shapes, the two girls were replaced by two older, much larger, overly muscular—one might say brutish—boys, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe.

"Get the polyjuice," one of the boys grunted to the other.

With a groan, Greg, the shorter of the two—though not, by any means, short himself—rolled off the bed and slouched toward a trunk at the foot of yet another bed. Opening it, Greg rummaged around before pulling a box from its depths. The clink of glass rang through the room as he opened the lid and lifted a small bottle from the box. Taking time to return everything but the small bottle to normal, he walked back to Vince.

"Where're the hairs?"

"Here."

With a small pop, the cork was removed from the bottle and a single long hair lowered into it. Replacing the cork, Greg shook it for a moment before opening it again and taking a long swallow. Grimacing, he choked a bit and dropped the bottle onto the bed before lying down.

His body contorted again, though this time instead of stretching, it shrank… in every area but the chest. Where before his chest had been mostly flat but for the line of muscle, it now seemed to swell. When Greg stopped moving, he was an exact replica of Lavender Brown.

"Fuck," he said, voice high and breathy but strained with pain. "I hate that shit."

"Take off your robes," Vince said, sliding his hand into his trousers.

"Yeah, yeah, give me a minute."

"Don't have a minute. Not if we want to have our fun."

"Huh. You're the one having fun here. I get my turn, don't forget."

"Yeah, yeah. Strip. I want to see those tits."

Greg sat up in Lavender's body and slowly slid the robes off her shoulders before swiftly unbuttoning the shirt.

"Wait, don't rush."

"You're fucking wanking?"

"Yeah."

"Ponce."

"Fuck you. Brown's fucking hot."

"Yeah, these tits are in my way, though."

A few moments later, Greg turned to the freestanding mirror to fully appreciate the impact of Lavender's nude body. "Oh, fuck. Look at that, Vince."

"I'm looking." Vince's voice was choked and gruff.

Greg snickered. "You're gonna come all over yourself at this rate."

"Fuck you. Get over here. Damn, I wanna touch those things."

Greg shrugged and walked over to Vince, standing perfectly still while Vince ran his hands up and down Lavender's body, finally settling his huge palms against her breasts, squeezing and pushing.

"Fuck, do that some more. That feels… odd, but good. Like wanking, but not." Blinking dazedly, Greg shook his head and said, "This is so gay."

"You won't think so when you're doing it. I wanna fuck 'em."

"What? Her tits?"

"Yeah. Look at 'em. God, they're fucking enormous!"

Greg glanced down at his chest, one corner of Lavender's mouth crooking up as he saw her breasts from this angle. "Yeah. Okay, how do we do it?"

"Lay down. And, uh… stretch out like… yeah, like that." Vince helped Greg arrange himself on the bed before pushing his trousers and pants completely off. Straddling Greg's chest, he said, "Push those things together."

"Ugh, Vince, sit up some, you're sweaty and you're crushing me. I don't want your ball juice dripping on me."

"Fuck. Say that again."

"What? About your ball juice?"

"No, say my name."

Greg pushed Lavender's tits together, snickering. "Oh, Vince… Vince!" he called, pitching Lavender's voice higher and breathier.

"Fuck you, Greg."

"Ugh, no thanks. This is a bit too poncey for me as it is. There will be no fucking."

"What? Why not?"

"Vince, think about it. Do you really want me to fuck you?"

"No, but when I take my turn, I'd let you fuck Lavender."

"It's the same. I'm telling you. This is different because I don't have tits like this. But letting you fuck me like this? No. Sorry. Too gay."

Vince scowled, but shrugged and pressed his cock between Lavender's breasts. "Harder. Squeeze them harder." He leaned forward and braced one hand on the pillow, pulling on a lock of Lavender's hair while he did so.

"Ow, fuck! Get off my hair!"

Vince sighed and shifted his hand over, bringing the other one forward to tweak Lavender's responsive nipples.

"Oh shit. That… fuck, do that some more."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Feel's good. Achey but good."

"Achey?"

"Yeah, like being hard and not being able to wank. Only different."

Vince grunted and thrust his hips a few times before pulling back and spitting on his cock. "Too dry," he muttered.

"That's gross, Vin."

Vince shrugged his massive shoulders and repositioned himself at the underside of Lavender's breasts. "I don't know how long it'll be before her tits change back and I want to enjoy them while I've got them. I'll make sure and have my lube handy for next time."

"'Next time?' How many times did you think we were going to do this?"

"At least 'til I can talk you into letting me fuck her."

"If it was just her, I wouldn't have a problem with it. I'm in here, too, though. Christ, hurry up."

Vince shut up then and just concentrated on getting off. Pumping his hips furiously, he worked his cock in and out of the soft, warm mounds of flesh that gripped him so deliciously.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck," he moaned. "Gonna come. Gonna come soon. Say my name."

Greg rolled his eyes, making a face as a bead of sweat rolled down Vince's nose and dripped onto his forehead. "Vince," he said, his tone bored.

"Fuck yes!" Vince shouted, and hunched forward one last time, pressing his hips so hard against the breasts he was pumping between that the head of his cock slipped up and his come spurted up and over Lavender's small, round chin and all over her face.

"Fuck! You fucker!" Greg shouted, dropping Lavender's breasts to wipe the stinging come from his eyes. "I can't believe you did that! God! Fucking wanker!"

The slamming of a door made Greg and Vince freeze before turning and looking to see Draco standing in the doorway, the slam having come from the door impacting with the wall. His jaw was resting on his chest, his eyes large with shock.

"I don't fucking believe it. Well done, Vince. Very well done, indeed." Inclining his head, his eyes sparkled with a return of malicious superiority. "Brown. I really don't believe it. Blaise is going to explode when I tell him."

Vince finally found his voice and said, slightly choked, "Draco… I'm rather busy here."

"Oh, yes, of course. Don't mind me. In fact, I'll just… leave."

When the door shut again behind Draco, Greg and Vince looked at each other with shocked horror on both of their faces—though it must be said that the way Lavender's mouth dropped open into a round O of distress did give Vince a few ideas—before they pushed away from each other in a rush. Dragging on clothes and robes, Greg checked the time and decided he had approximately twenty minutes before the polyjuice would begin wearing off.

"We have to get out of here. Draco can't know it was me…"

Vince grunted and threw Greg's bag to him before grabbing his own and heading out the door. Up the stairs they went to the common room, vaguely disturbed to find it completely deserted.

"Draco must have told Pansy first," Greg whispered, horrified.

"The whole castle will know by now."

"Shit! Brown will know."

"What the fuck are we going to do?"

~*~

Lavender checked her reflection in the mirror before patting her hair and hurrying out of the loo and down the corridor to the Great Hall for dinner. Pulling open the door, she didn't immediately notice the way the Hall went silent before harsh whispers began spreading in a wave out from her.

Smiling vapidly, she walked down to her normal spot at the Gryffindor table, only to find it occupied by Padma Patil. Brow knitting in irritation, she said, "Shouldn't you be at the Ravenclaw table, Padma?"

Padma looked up at her and smiled, though the smile seemed wrong, somehow. A bit more toothy than normal.

"Of course, Lavender. So sorry about that. Though, I must admit I thought you might be having dinner with your boyfriend."

Lavender frowned. She'd broken it off with Ron over a week ago and hadn't picked up a new boyfriend since, preferring to weigh her options for the moment.

Sliding into the seat after Padma vacated it, she turned to Parvati and said, "What did she mean, my boyfriend?"

Parvati just stared at her, a look somewhere between disgust and horror twisting her features. Finally, she moved, reaching out to grab Lavender's arm and pulling her forward roughly. Looking around, she hissed, "Crabbe?! Vincent Crabbe, Lavender?! Are you really that desperate?!"

Lavender sucked in a sharp breath at the cruel grip of Parvati's fingers, prying them from her arm before she sat back, rubbing the sore spots, and said, "What? What about Crabbe? What's going on?"

"There's a rumour going around the castle that Draco Malfoy walked in on you and Vincent Crabbe… doing things!" Parvati whispered furiously.

"What? I've been up in the dorm since last class! How could Draco Malfoy or Vincent Crabbe have been there? That doesn't make any sense!"

"You were in the dorm?" Parvati asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.

"Yes!" Lavender said, taken aback that her best friend doubted her.

"So you weren't… down in Slytherin… letting Vincent do… things?"

"Oh my God, WHAT?!" Lavender screeched, hopping up from her seat as the full impact of what Parvati wasn't saying finally dawned on her. Her mind leapt as she tried to imagine how on earth such a thing could have started, how such utterly ridiculous gossip could have seemed believable to anyone and then she realised… it couldn't. No on in their right mind would believe it unless it was the utter truth.

But she knew it wasn't the truth, which left only one possible alternative.

Someone had polyjuiced into her.

Reaching one hand up to touch her soft, beautiful hair, Lavender's eyes fell upon the far end of the Slytherin table where two seemingly innocent young girls sat calmly eating dinner.

~*~

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle weren't absolutely certain about many things. What they were certain about was that they escaped lightly that night. Watching Lavender rip strips of the hides of their two hapless, innocent suppliers of polyjuice hair that night at dinner left everyone who witnessed it with a new, rather healthy respect for slightly vacuous and deeply vindictive Gryffindors.

The End