Disclaimer: I own nothing but an impressive yet already worthless DVD collection, and of course way too many pop vinyls

A/N: T rating for now but will go up in later chapters.

I will try to update weekly, I have plans through until at least sixth year for now but I'll see where the story takes me :)

Also I am kiwi of the commonwealth so apologies to any Americans and such who don't like my English spelling

Draco may not be one to embrace muggle ideals but there was something about muggle dueling. It was certainly more enjoyable when the other party involved was Potter. There was a whole other level of satisfaction to see Potter go down by his own hands. To feel Potter nose breaking beneath his first whilst he pinned the-child-who-lived down, sitting on his waist. Not that Draco would ever admit to enjoying muggle dueling more than wizard dueling, when asked later he'd just tell people he only went along after Potter started it by slapping him. What kind of a boy slaps anyway. Draco may not be well versed in many things muggle but even he knew boys don't slap in muggle dueling. Of course Potter tried punching after Draco first landed his first but he was too late. Draco had always known Potter was on the small side but he weaker than even Draco has expected. Merlin, even Granger had had more strength behind her own punch when she'd hit him yesterday.

Draco could hear people yelling all around him and knew Crabbe and Goyle would be holding back Potters friends for him. Right now he really didn't care. All that mattered was that Potter was pinned beneath him. He wasn't even trying to fight back anymore, just holding his thin arms in front of his face in a sad attempt to protect it from Draco's fist. Draco watched in morbid satisfaction as more blood spurted from Potters nose each time his fist made contact. Potter held Draco's eyes throughout the whole thing, jaw set, refusing to make a sound. He had to admit, as weak as Potter was, he knew how to take a hit.

Strong hands grabbed Draco by the shoulders and threw him a good couple of meters down the hall. Draco stood and watched as Lupin and McGonagall bent over Potter to examine the damage and helped him to sit up. A second pair of hands grabbed Draco and shoved him against the hall wall. He spared barely a moment to wonder as to why Severus had his anger directed at him. Didn't he hate the-child-who-lived just as much as he did? Yet already Draco's attention was back on Potter. A smirk on his face, holding Potter's eyes, as the boy struggled to stand with the help of the two Professors. Under McGonagall's instruction Severus forced him to Dumbledore's office as the other two took Potter presumably to the hospital wing. Severus continued to berate him the entire way. Talking of how disappointed he was in him. He was supposed to be above such things. His parents raised him better than to do such a thing.

So what? Potter got exactly what he deserved. He'd happily do it all over again just to wipe that smug look off Potter's face. See him dare to touch the Malfoy heir ever again after the harsh lesson he's just been taught. Draco wanted to laugh at the irony that he, a pure blood, had beat the muggle raised Potter in a muggle duel. He was never going to let scar head forget it. Reaching the Headmaster's office Draco and Severus took a seat as the Headmaster went to check out the damage done. Severus just scowled at Draco when he requested some bruise paste for his knuckles, Potter's face seemed to have damaged them some. In all honestly, his shoulders where Lupin grabbed him and threw him off Potter hurt much more than his knuckles. The frail, bookworm Professor was a lot stronger than he looked. Apparently Severus hadn't been lying when proclaiming him a werewolf at breakfast.

The Headmaster returned twenty minutes later with Potter, McGonagall and Lupin in tow. Draco smirked when seeing the drying blood down the front of Potter's shirt. The smirk was wiped straight off his face however, when his parents came in behind Lupin. His Father, whom Draco knew would be disappointed in him for partaking in muggle dueling, was the epitome of a calm man. Draco wasn't fooled, he knew the man could easily mask his emotions, but that wasn't what had him shaking in his seat. His Mother. A dignified woman of the Black house, one to never show emotions in public. A face of pure fury. Fury, which it seemed, was directed all at him. Draco, whose Mother had never directed the slightest inkling of negative emotion toward him. She didn't seem to be holding anything back. The glare she sent his way had him wanting to flee the room and hide for the rest of the century in the hopes that was enough time for her to cool off.

Now Potter was smirking, Draco was sure, at the pure horror shining through his own face. Something which had to be corrected. Potter had started it after all. It wasn't his fault the pathetic child-who-lived was too weak to finish it. A fact Draco promptly informed the adults in the room of. Anger flickered across Fathers face, unmistakably directed at his son. Before Father had a chance to say anything Potter cut in.

"I slapped you. One time. And only after you said you'd be starting a petition to have Remus put down like a dog. Maybe slap me back, but bashing my face in was a bit of an over kill." Draco didn't miss Lupin fists clenching at Potters statement and felt a ghost pain pulse through his shoulders at the motion.

"So you admit you started it do you Potty?"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy! I do not give a shit who started it" Mothers cursing shocked Draco and all other occupants in the room into silence. "I thought we had raised you better than that. I don't care if she's insulted the Black and Malfoy names and stolen all the family gold. If you had fought back with magic at least you would have been on even ground. But how dare you think to even raise a finger let alone your fists! I never would have thought I could be so disgusted by my own son. Yet here I am, proven wrong."

Draco couldn't believe what Mother was saying, it was like a knife to the chest, so of course Father just had to twist it.

"To say we are disappointed in you, son, would be an understatement. If Dumbledore decides to expel you, he would have our full support."

"While the school obviously does not condone young Mr Malfoy's behaviour, I do not believe I will be expelling him this time. I will however, be suspending you for the remainder of the school term. Of course, if there were ever to be a repeat incident, immediate expulsion would be non-negotiable, is that understood Mr Malfoy?"

Draco nodded, head reeling. Why was Father not defending him? He always took his side publicly, it was a matter of showing a united family front. Even with that stupid bird, he'd yelled himself horse at Draco for his stupidity in the privacy of Severus's quarters, but had used all his power to ensure it was sentenced to execution afterwards. All because Draco had publically declared that he's have it done. To take Potter's side, Dumbledore's side, over his own son? Surely someone had confunded the man, or perhaps more seriously, the imperious? The rage still emanating from his Mother though, could not have been spell induced, she was genuinely pissed.

"What do you have to say to Miss Potter, Draco"

Draco looked Mother in the eye for the first time since she'd entered the room. She could not seriously be expecting him to apologise to… Potter? What did his Mother say? Miss Potter? Perhaps Mother had been confunded after all. Everyone knew the-child-who-lived was a boy, right. Now it all made sense. That, was why Mother and possibly Father were so angry and disappointed. They had some ridiculous idea in their head that Potter was a girl. Draco couldn't help but laugh at this. They thought he'd bashed some girls face in. He'd never hit a girl, he'd been raised better than that. Even when Granger hit him yesterday he hadn't considered for even a moment, hitting her back, because she was a girl. Potter, most definitely, was not.

He'd known the boy for three years for Merlin's sake, surely he'd know better than his parents. Anyone could see it. Potter had short hair, like a boy, though Pansy had been known to have short hair at times during their childhood. He wore school uniform pants, not a skirt, who cares if Millicent also wore the uniform trousers. And what about breasts? Almost all the girls in their year had breasts by now, even Tracey Davis had some mosquito bites visible when wearing just a shirt on hot days. Of course Potters clothes were no way near as tight as Davis', because Potter wore boy clothes, because Potter was a boy. Even the blood stained shirt Potter wore now was at least three sizes too big, no sign of breasts but for maybe the small bump visible on one side where the blood dried sticking the shirt to his skin.

Wait? What? Why the hell does Potter have any kind of chest bump under his shirt? He's a boy. Boys don't have bumps on their chests no matter how small. Especially not boys as skinny as Potter, maybe on Crabbe but not Potter. Yet there it was, and sure as day, yet not as noticeable without the clingy blood, a matching bump on the other side. Crossed arms were suddenly hiding the bumps from Draco's view. Looking up into Potter's disgusted face Draco paled at his epiphany. Potter was a girl. Potter was a girl! He'd beat up a girl.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Malfoy!" Potter yelled, ignoring McGonagall's cry of 'language'. "First you punch my face in not showing the least bit of remorse. Then you laugh when your Mother even suggests that you apologise. And now you think you can sit there and ogle my chest? Clearly inbreeding is showing its effects on your brain."

With that Potter stood from her chair, arms still crossed to hide her chest and then she left the room followed by Lupin with Dumbledore permission.

Draco sat stunned as, if possible, Mother seemed to become even angrier and all other occupants of the room just looked at him in disbelief. Draco then realised, Mother's anger right now was nothing, she was holding back. Malfoy heir or not, when they got home, if he was still alive, he was so grounded.