"Damnit! It must be Fred and George. It's the only explanation."
Ginny flung another undersized skirt back into her trunk and sat down on the edge of Hermione's bed, sighing. She'd dragged her trunk through into her friend's dorm first thing that morning, the moment she’d realised that yesterday hadn't just been an anomaly - NONE of her clothes fit.
"I suppose it must be,” acknowledged Hermione, trying to button up a shirt with little success. "I don't suppose they could have been shrunk any other way?"
"None that I can think of!" Ginny lay back on Hermione's bed with a sigh. The two had barely made it back to Gryffindor tower last night, so stuffed were they from the feast - Ginny hadn't even had time to change into her nightclothes before she’d collapsed into bed and fallen immediately asleep. Now though her stomach was rumbling hungrily again - the pair's clothing trouble had already made them a few minutes late for breakfast.
"Well, I've tried every counter-charm I know and they’ve done nothing." Hermione complained, looking put-out. She didn't like being outdone - especially not by the Weasley twins. "We'll have wear these for now, and talk to them at breakfast. It's not like we CAN'T wear the things, after all."
Ginny just harrumphed, too annoyed to bother forming a sentence. She still had a red mark around her middle where the waistband of her skirt had chafed the previous night, and she did not at all like the prospect of having to put on more clothes that didn't fit. She wasn't exactly nervous about showing her body (that would require some modicum of self-awareness, after all) but she preferred it when her clothes didn't feel like they were cutting her in half.
“Why can’t we just use that spell you used on the train yesterday?” she asked, suddenly remembering it, “I mean, as long as we stick away from the main gate we should be fine, right?”
“There’s a reason witches don’t go around wearing transfigured clothes if they can help it, Ginny,” Hermione began. “If you get too close to a counter-spell, or go through a charmed entranceway like I did last night – well, you saw what happened. It was irresponsible of me even to try it. It can be dangerous! Cindrolda the Wise, the headmistress of Hogwarts back in the 1700s, was almost killed when her dress turned back into a pumpkin after her transfiguration was…”
Ginny had tuned out though, as she normally did when Hermione started lecturing. She glanced down at herself distractedly, and frowned as she noticed that even her bra was too tight, her breasts spilling out in every direction. W-wait! Did -did that mean Fred and George had been through her underwear?
Before she could think much on it though, she realised Hermione had stopped talking and was looking at her expectantly.
“Uhm… yes?” She guessed, trying ineffectually to work out what the question might have been.
“Fine! Sure. Ignore my advice then,” Hermione complained huffily, “I’m going to go and get breakfast; the spell is ‘Espandere Aksis’. Good luck!” And with that, the older girl stomped out, shirt still only half-buttoned over her chest. Ginny raised an eyebrow as she watched her go, but once she was gone she turned back to the clothes in her trunk, considering. She really didn’t want to wear clothes as uncomfortably tight as yesterday’s if she could help it… well, what harm could it really do anyway? She grabbed a shirt that she distinctly remembered fitting last year, and tapped it with her wand.
As if by magic – which of course it was – the shirt loosened, expanding all over. She grinned to herself – why hadn’t Hermione wanted to use this again? It worked great!
A few minutes later she stood in front of the mirror back in her own dorm, admiring her reflection. She’d cast the ‘Espandere Aksis’ charm on, altogether, her shirt, her skirt, her jumper, and her underwear. She’d even managed to get that cute bra she’d grown out of a couple of years ago to fit again. She only brought it to Hogwarts nowadays for sentimental reasons – she never thought she’d actually wear it again!
Smiling happily to herself as she imagined how uncomfortable Hermione must be right then compared to her, she pulled on her shoes (one of the few things she hadn’t had to cast a spell on to make fit) and skipped downstairs towards the Great Hall, stomach grumbling loudly in anticipation of the meal that awaited her.
Despite the energy with which Ginny set off to the Great Hall that morning, by the time she actually got there she was feeling rather worn out. Her cheeks were red from the exertion of hurrying all the way down from Gryffindor Tower, and her stomach was rumbling more loudly than ever now that it had been jostled about so much. Had Hogwarts always had so many stairs? She was sure the walk hadn’t been as long and strenuous last year – ah well, it was probably nothing to worry about. The castle’s architecture was inconsistent at the best of times; it had probably just added another dozen steps to every staircase again.
She approached the double doors to head into the hall, and was rather surprised as she caught sight Hermione leaning against the wall just beside them, breathing heavily.
“Y’alright, Hermione?” she asked, concerned, but the larger girl straightened up as she approached, wiping her brow with the back of one chubby hand. She looked to have suffered even worse than Ginny from the walk down, body slick with sweat and face a luminous, London-bus red.
“Yeah, just having a- having a little rest before I head in. I’d forgotten how many stairs Hogwarts has, and I can’t breathe too well in these clothes.”
Ginny looked her up and down, before nodding sympathetically. The older girl’s clothes did look pretty constricting – her shirt was straining at the seams, little diamonds of pale flab revealed between each struggling button, and her skirt was so tight that the waistband was completely hidden beneath the soft overflow of her stomach.
“Well you shoulda used the spell you gave me. It works great!” Ginny gave a little twirl, showing off her newly-fitting clothes, “You were just unlucky yesterday, the spell’s fine!”
Hermione frowned at her, but looked too puffed to bother with a lecture - instead, she led the way into the Great Hall and to the Gryffindor table. It seemed as though Fred and George hadn’t arrived yet, so the two silently agreed to have a bite to eat before they asked the twins what had happened to their clothes.
The Gryffindor benches were already rather crowded with breakfasters, but they quickly spotted Harry and Ron and hurried over to sit opposite them. The two girls squeezed in, but a moment later a tiny first year yelped as she was squashed beneath Hermione’s expansive rear.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Hermione jumped up again as she realised what had happened, flushing with embarrassment, “I, ah, didn’t see you there.”
That wasn’t entirely true – she had seen the girl, but her brain still hadn’t caught up with her body; as far as she was concerned, her hips were still as narrow as they had ever been.
“T’s’okay.” The girl muttered, moving up as best she could to allow Hermione the room needed sit down. Despite her efforts though it was barely enough, and they all ended up wedged tightly together on the bench. It was only fortunate that Ginny’s figure was rather boyish, holding most of her excess pounds around her waist instead of on her hips like Hermione. Had she been any wider, someone would have had to stand – and it certainly wouldn’t have been either of the hungry girls.
Without even greeting Harry or Ron, the two began shovelling food onto their plates and then into their mouth, and in record time great mounds of toast slathered with butter, eggs, bacon, baked beans and sausages had all disappeared into the two girls’ capacious stomachs. They ate so quickly as to barely even taste the food, hardly chewing most mouthfuls before swallowing them down into their increasingly-strained guts. In less time than it took to perform an intermediate transfiguration, the two were sitting back from the table, morning hunger abated and quite thoroughly stuffed.
All told, the two had eaten a similar amount - although Ginny was a year younger, she had the advantage of practice. Ever since she was a toddler, Mrs Weasley had delighted in overfeeding her – one of her earliest memories was sitting at the kitchen table, moaning at the packed, uncomfortable feeling in her stomach but also crying piteously for more food. She felt that discomfort again today – though not as strained as last night, her poor stretched stomach was once again filled to (and beyond) its capacity – and yet still she desired more food. For once though, her common sense overwhelmed her lust; she had lessons to attend today. She’d eat more later, and perhaps sneak a snack in one of her lessons.
Hermione, however, was more concerned for the state of her clothes. She couldn’t see much of her skirt past the distended bulge of her gut, but as she’d eaten that last slice of toast she could’ve sworn she’d felt stitches pop. The skirt was unbuttoned – it had been completely hopeless to so much as attempt to fasten it that morning, and she still had some impressive purple bruises from her little run-in with the main gate yesterday – but even that extra breathing room wasn’t enough anymore. The skirt was agonisingly tight, digging into the soft flesh of her underbelly and chunky sides.
“Hey, Hermione,” Ginny elbowed her friend in the ribs – or rather, in the flabby love handle that covered her ribs, “Fred and George are here! Let’s go ask ‘em about our clothes.” She gestured at the double doors, where the Weasley twins had indeed just appeared.
“Ugh…” Hermione groaned – she really didn’t feel like standing up right then. Her meal had just started digesting, and there was so much pressure inside her she feared she might burst if she moved too suddenly. Still, she couldn’t go around in these clothes forever.
Reluctantly, she levered herself to her feet – almost knocking the first year off the bench with her butt as she turned around - and followed Ginny towards the redheaded twins, cradling her aching belly all the while.