Pop Go the Weasleys

"Oh, Gods, we died, and I'm in Hell"

Severus sank to his knees, the crinoline slowly deflating in a ring around him. Hermione, being shorter, had to climb further before she saw what had distressed the wizard. There in the distance was a most peculiar house, even by Wizarding standards. The clamour that could still be heard at this distance was caused by the several dozen children of all ages that ran, climbed, skipped, screamed, cried and yelled through the house and its environs. All of them had Weasley red hair, and a woman vaguely reminiscent of Molly was alternately yelling and swiping at the kids as they ran round her.

Hermione walked back to the despondent man. He'd been even more disturbed to find neither of them had their wands than he had been about his outfit, and the strain was showing. She stood there for a while, looking thoughtful. After a couple of minutes Severus seemed to pull himself together and stood up. As he did so, Hermione started talking.

"If it's any consolation I think I know where we are, and it's not Hell," Hermione said, then caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Snape looked at her expectantly, but said nothing.

"I also think I know why we are both in these... get ups. I suspect that we are somehow in the book I dropped."

Snape stood and stared off into the distance. Yes, her theory made sense; he'd once read of this sort of thing happening. The person involved was stuck in the book, but had found a way to get out. The witch beside him was still prattling on, and with his aching head Severus was finding it difficult to concentrate. He knew that there was a way to get yourself out, if only he could think...

"... so if I'm right, and I have little doubt I am, that was the Old Woman who lived in a shoe, and that would make you little Bo Peep!" Snape glared at her.

"So, what with your empty-headed bleating, we can safely assume that you are my sheep," he replied nastily. Hermione bristled.

"Hey, don't take it out on me because chintz doesn't suit you. This isn't my fault, you know."

Snape began to loom over Hermione. She started to worry at her lip nervously as he stepped closer to her, still somewhat scary even if the effect was lessened by his skirt rising up behind him as the front was pressed between them

"Isn't your fault? And just how do you figure that it isn't your fault? Firstly you douse me in a highly volatile and potent magical residue, secondly you were overreaching at the top of a ladder, a ladder I might add that should have had a stabilising charm applied while you were working up it, and lastly you drop a book that has been exposed to this wild magic for Merlin knows how long onto the pair of us. Of course this is your fault, woman!"

They had been moving, Hermione taking small steps backwards and him advancing on her. As he shouted the last bit at her Hermione bolted and ran into the nearby woods. Snape watched her go, then turned on his heel and went back the way they had come. He refused to chase her, and he suspected that the close set trees would cause him no end of trouble with this damned skirt, which he had found impossible to remove.