Miss Malfoy

A/N: Thank you to those of you who reviewed! Whoot!

Pallas - yes, they accepted it too quickly, but McGonagall is their head of house. It was an order, and Harry is a prefect now. Plus, Harry would kind of understand - they\'re in the middle of a war with Voldemort, so they\'re hardly going to argue.

Those of you reading without reviewing - I really really write well for reviews. I also update fast, ^_^. Please, please review me, and all suggestions and ideas will be taken into consideration.

He stared at himself in the mirror miserably. He didn’t like this new him. He poked at the area his waist used to be. It was soft, and rounded, and his hips were higher and fatter. He scowled; the girl looking back at him in the mirror knitted her brows in a glare that was not remotely frightening. He touched the long hair hanging around his shoulders, at least he was used to that. But it felt… different, silkier. It looked normal, falling back straight from his forehead as usual, except the forehead itself was different. He prodded a cheek; his face was rounder, the cheekbones he was used to seeing, cheekbones he was smugly aware were one of his better features, were hidden. His mouth was different, as well. Instead of the thinner lips he was used to, these were pinker, and fuller.

Only his eyes were the same. Grimly, he looked steadily at himself. This was a nightmare.

The mudblood, know-it-all Hermione ‘teacher’s pet’ Granger, stood several paces behind him, he could catch sight of her in the mirror. He grimaced. Why couldn’t he stay in his own clothes? The waistband of his boxers slipped past his waist and down to his hips suddenly; snatching at them, he hauled them up under his robes. Ah. That was why.

Hermione sat down on the corner of the hospital bed, studiously avoiding looking at Malfoy as he.. she.. he glared at himself in the mirror.

“Perhaps you’d better get dressed?” she suggested, fiddling with her ‘head girl’ badge, pinned to the front of her robes, to remind herself to keep her tongue firmly in her cheek. She was responsible, and nearly an adult, damn it, and she would be able to resist laughing at the complete humour of the situation!

He nodded, and made his way over to the chest that Madam Pomfrey had left stacked with clothes, gathered them up, and trailed over to where a screen had been propped up for modesty’s sake.


He blinked, examining the item of clothing. He’d taken it off enough times, now how the hell did you get the thing on? Shoving his arms through the loops, he attempted to wriggle into it, reaching behind to fasten the little toggle thing. He couldn’t reach that far. He stopped, his face currently hovering above the latest addition to his body. Two of them, actually. He smiled, and prodded one of them. It jiggled. Apparently, he wasn’t a skinny girl when he was one. He placed his hand over it, gingerly, and squeezed it. He grinned; finally there were some things good about this transformation. He wondered how girls managed to get dressed in the morning, playing with themselves would be much more fun.


The mudblood cleared her throat. Ah. Time to get on with the job in hand. He tried to push the two bits together, and hook the bloody thing, but if he managed to find the hook, the side with the eye slipped, and he couldn’t get it on.

He cleared his throat, attempting to find a more manly tone in the much higher voicerange of this body.

“How do you make this work?” he demanded.

“What work?”

He sighed, really wishing for a poison, and the name of who had done this to him. “The bra, Granger. How do you make it fucking fasten?” He peered around the screen. She’d gone pink. Typical.

“Well,” she began, awkwardly, “Do it up around your waist, then pull it up.” He stared at the piece of white cotton and lace, mystified by the complicated nature of bloody underwear. Following orders, he put it around his waist, fastened it, then pulled it up.

“Has it worked?” she asked, sounding faintly scared. He rolled his eyes with a curl of the lip. If it hadn’t, Hermione Granger would not be invited to help him.

“Yes,” he said, shortly. His eyes widened. What the hell was this? It was too bloody small, that was what it was. How was that supposed to cover – Oh yes. It didn’t. He didn’t have that to cover anymore. Glowering, and stepping into them, he hauled them up around his waist. It was fucking uncomfortable, but an odd sense of pride pervaded. He’d managed to get dressed – in women’s underwear. His father would kill him. He buttoned the shirt briskly, that was no different to his own, except that it made allowances for his new chest. He pulled the sweater over his head, and now had to deal with two more complications.

An innocent pair of tights sat atop a skirt. How the hell was this going to work? He sat down, and tried to pull the tights up his legs. There was a snag, and suddenly, he was staring at a long ladder clambering up his leg in the brand new tights.

“Bugger,” he said quietly, and reached for the other pair.

When Draco Malfoy stepped out from behind the screen, Hermione’s mouth fell open. A scowling girl stood in front of her, now neatly dressed in Gryffindor uniform, a red and gold crest embroidered on the front of the robes. And two long ladders in her grey tights.

“Ah,” Hermione managed, “You’re going to have to do something with your hair.” He glared at her, folding his arms across his chest defensively.

“Hogwarts rules,” she reminded, her chin lifting defiantly, “Any girl with hair longer than shoulder-length must tie it back.”

“How?” he asked, simply. She paused, confused. No insults, no derogatory stabs at her ancestry?

“How, Granger?” he demanded, glaring at her. “I don’t tie it back.”

“I can plait it for you,” she offered, biting her lip. Silently, giving off waves of resentment and annoyance, Draco sat down in front of her, his back turned.

He gave up. He’d endured waking up in his room discovering he was a girl, Professor Snape’s outraged tirade, Professor McGonagall questioning him, having to become a Gryffindor for however long it took for this to wear off, and clothing. Quite simply, if someone offered to braid his hair, he could weather it.

Hermione divided his hair into two sides, then into three on one side, and began twisting it into plaits. It was very pale blonde hair, almost white, and in the sun pouring through the windows of the hospital wing, it was bleached an even paler colour. It slipped through her fingers; Draco as a girl was apparently very silky haired.

Snapping two elastic bands over the ends of the plaits, she stepped back, admiring her handiwork. Draco sulked.


“We have to have MALFOY in our common room?” Seamus Finnagan demanded of Harry, incredulity written across his face. “C’mon, Harry, wee toe to protect that Slytherin from what? Getting his Mammy’s precious arse kicked for once?”

This was a tempting prospect, Harry had to admit, and he ran a hand through his messy black hair distractedly, trying not to think about the number of jokes to be had at Malfoy’s expense at this moment in time. But, like Ron, he was a prefect now. Which meant, with a little sigh, he admitted to himself, not tormenting the evil bastard while he wore a skirt.

The portrait of the Fat Lady swung forward into the common-room, interrupting what discussions were going on. People looked up from games of Gobstones, wizard chess, talking around the fire, and stared at Hermione who stood, twisting her fingers together timidly, in the doorway. And then stepped through.

Jaws dropped.

“The evil git is good-looking,” Seamus breathed, astounded. “He’s pretty. Harry, why is he pretty?”

There were similar reactions buzzing over the common-room, actually. Sniggers, and ripples of laughter as well, but the reaction from the boys’ side seemed to be one of disbelief.

Hermione took the girl firmly by the hand, and led her towards the girls’ dormitories. Seamus gave a sigh, and looked at Harry.

“Bet you ten galleons he turns this to his advantage,” he said bluntly.


A/N: I take allll suggestions! Let me know what you want to see – Particularly ays to torture Malfoy in a girl’s body… heehee. Review!