Summary: For some unknown reason, Harry feels that his sixth year at Hogwarts will be his most dangerous yet, just as he feels that it will revolve the self-proclaimed Slytherin Princess he has hidden feelings for. Harry/girl!Draco

A/N: Dracia (dray-see-a) is just a name I made up myself. Whether it has real meaning or is complete gibberish doesn't matter to me as I really like the name and think it suits. As it says in the summary, this is a Harry/girl!Draco fanfic because I believe there aren't enough.

For those of you who don't understand, this means that Harry Potter is being matched up with a girl version of Draco Malfoy. Why? Because I think girl!Draco would be interesting if paired with Harry and vice versa (girl!Harry/Draco).

I would just like to inform everyone that this will not be pursued extremely actively. I will be continuing it but it will be rather slow unless I have an extreme inspiration to write (as I do often when writing stories, especially new ones). So without further ado, here it is!

Harry Potter and the Forbidden Love
Prologue

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Dearest Harry,

How are you? How are you feeling? Has your scar been hurting recently? If it has, please be careful and relax. Many things are probably stressing you now but please try to relax until you have made contact with Dumbledore and he brings you here.

Also, happy birthday! I wasn't able to enclose any gifts with this letter but once you arrive, I will present your gift to you. But until then, this letter will be all you receive on your birthday from me.

Everything here is very eventful: Mr. Weasley has developed an odd fascination with my lead pencil. He keeps asking me how the lead manages to get through the hole and what pushes it. It is quite amusing.

Mrs. Weasley is rather flustered and has developed the tendency of sitting on the living room couch and knitting extremely long scarves for Ron, Fred, George, and on one occasion, myself. She is very tense with all of Mr. Weasley's late nights at the Ministry; she believes that the Ministry isn't as safe as it used to after the fighting and all the deaths that occurred last school year. She is also missing you deeply; she was hoping your birthday would be spent here instead the home of your relatives but Dumbledore explained to her that it would be better it you spent most of your summer with your Aunt and Uncle – though I know you disagree.

Fred and George have yet to visit but they have been sending owls frequently: apparently, their shop was a flop when it first opened but after much publicity in the forth coming days, it has become a huge hit; packed with customers everyday. Mrs. Weasley promised a visit once you had arrived and we were to shop for our school books.

Ginny has spent most of the summer studying with my help. Her O.W.L.'s are this year and she had asked for my help as soon as I had arrived so I have been tutoring her through the written and oral aspects of every subjects; practical tutoring extends to the precise wand movements for spells as magic outside school is forbidden for those underage. In any case, she has been making significant improvements; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as well as I have no doubt that Ginny will pass with flying colors; and not just so to speak! One of these spells requires the user to create color out of thin air.

Speaking of colors, Ronald has been attempting to redecorate his room. He said it needed severe redecoration after so many years of such a plain setting. But alas, in his attempts he turned his head yellow, his left arm green, his upper body red, his right knee turquoise, and Ginny tells me he shaded a certain part of anatomy a "very gay" shade of pink and yellow though when she tried to tell me which, Ron would blush and tell her to quiet down very rudely; this made me become very curious but I've let it slide. Apart from discoloring himself, Ron is quite lonely; it appears that without any social interaction with any male except his father, Ron has become as depressed as Moaning Myrtle – no offense to Myrtle of course. Ron truly misses Fred, George, and you, and all the Quidditch practices the four of you would get to. It is saddening to see him like this so I really hope you can come soon to cheer him up.

As to what I have been doing; well, my interactions with the Weasley family have been portrayed as above. Other than that, I have been keeping contact with my family as much as possible and reading into sixth year as much as I can. School will be starting soon and I am very glad for many reasons: we will all be together once more, school will resume, we will be able to contact Dumbledore much easier, you will be safe; those are just to name a few.

For you, I know the reasoning is very similar but I also know one reason stands out above all the others.

I really think you shouldn't be so self-hating towards these feelings you have. Even if they are towards Dracia, they are still genuine feelings; whether it is a just a temporary infatuation or something deeper like love, you will find out eventually. Please do not beat yourself up over these feelings you have for her. Some people say that love can bring out the better side to a person; maybe your love can bring out the better side to Dracia.

As I have learned throughout the years, she is not a person to easily understand. From what I've gathered, she is a stuck up, egocentric, selfish, rich girl with many fascist beliefs (understand that most are due to her surroundings; the way she's grown up). But even with this, I still cannot comprehend her completely; nothing is black and white with her but at the same time, nothing is all that colorful either – except maybe her language. She is as mysterious to me as she is to you; perhaps even more so. I implore you: do not allow yourself to be fooled. And do not judge through the observation of others; you yourself observe and deduce. Ron and I can assist very little in this matter; it is completely up to you to figure out whether Dracia Malfoy is worth your time and efforts. If she is, and if you feel that there is something that you see, that others can't, pursue her with the purest intentions.

I hope this has helped you clear your thoughts and relax your body; that it what I was going for. In any case, please relax and relieve yourself of stress for the time being. Everyone misses you and wishes you a safe and enjoyable birthday. Oh my! This is certainly a long letter, isn't it? Well, I should really end it now.

So in closing, a few final words of advice: Caution is advisable but too much caution may cause you to lose something precious. Understand this before you act on it.

Love,
Hermione J. Granger

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Dear Harry,

Hey, what's up, mate? How're the Muggles treating you? Remember what Moody said! They cause you any trouble and we'll give'em Hell!

Anyways, everyone's safe but nothing very interesting is happening here. I accidently turned myself different colors but that's kind of it.

Hermione seemed to be writing a letter sometime before I wrote this; d'you think she's writing to Krum again? Not that I really care or anything, it's just that… she didn't even let me look at the letter before she sent it! Does she need to write to him so privately? What could she possibly write that needs to be kept so hush, hush?

Maybe she's writing a love letter? Ew; what Hermione see's in him, I'll never know. Thank goodness he's so far away! Not that I care, mind you!

Ah, anyways, the papers like the Daily Prophet have turned towards you, Harry. They keep complimenting you and everything! I reckon they're just trying to soften you up a bit in case you try to point out what they did last year. Hermione calls it an indirect apology but I call it codswallop! You should sue them for faulty stories, Harry! We could make hundreds! Millions, maybe!

Speaking of Galleons, Fred and George's business is booming, apparently. They're raking in loads of Galleons and said they'll help buy us our school supplies this year. Fantastic, right? Mum almost fainted in the kitchen when they sent the owl; she says now we have enough coins left over to survive till next year! Dad says he's proud though he almost fainted too; he'd spent night after night trying to cut expenses. We owe a lot to Fred and George now… Damn it

Don't swear, Ronald!

Write on your own parchment, Hermione!

Anyways! Mum said she's expecting you here soon. We wanted you here before your birthday but Dumbledore said – he dropped by a few days ago – that you needed to stay with those Muggles a little longer. Dad said that Dumbledore is gonna get you tonight and bring you here. After that, things are gonna rush a bit. Mum is planning a trip to Diagon Alley the moment you come – after you've rested of course. Then after that, we'll be leaving to Hogwarts the very next day!

Sorry if you feel rushed or anything. The summer's been really dull without you. Hermione and Ginny are always shut up in a room, studying, talking, and sometimes, I swear I can hear giggling! I tried over hearing what they were giggling about but Ginny caught me and forced Mum to caste an Imperturbable Charm on the door so I can't hear a thing! It's getting me real angry now a days!

But in any case, nothing looks like it's gonna peach up any time soon without you around so I'm just counting down the hours. I can't wait until you finally come! Hermione said that by the time you reach this, it'll be around evening time and it'll be a couple of hours until Dumbledore comes! She said something about longitude and latitude and a space time thing – well, in the end she said it'll be evening time when you're reading this! So hearty evening!

And uh, just a quick question before I'm off: did Hermione send you a letter? Well, the question is more of… did she end it with "love"? I'm just wondering! Really, not all that important! Just wondering!

See you when you get here!

Your best mate,
Ron Weasely.

Harry Potter stood near the window of his room, reading a letter from his two best friends, from the elegant penmanship of Hermione's writing to the scrawls of Ron's wording and the little bickering scribbles in between. He read and reread every line, taking in the precious information they provided.

Everyone was safe; meaning no one was harmed.

This fact alone caused a cool wave of relief to pass over Harry's body. He felt suddenly weak in the knees but remained upright; the only thing that would break his fall was the lumpy old mattress in his room; Dudley's former second bedroom.
Though Harry had cleaned the place, thrown away broken television sets and beheaded action figures, wiped the dust from the closet, bed, floor, walls, and the small toilet table in the far right corner near the window, and actually let sunshine flow into the storage space; it continued to remain dull and rather depressing. But the thought of returning to Hogwarts for ten months consoled him greatly as did the thought of only two more years of Hogwarts left until he graduated, meaning he could finally move out and start his own life.

And by life, it meant to settle down in a place to call his own, find a part time job until his Auror training was over, and get a girlfriend at least…

The unwanted image of Dracia Malfoy flashed in his head and the effect was instantaneous: the weakness in his knees strengthened dramatically, causing poor Harry to collapse back on his lumpy bed; his heart beat doubled its current pace just as his breathing quickened; a hot blush crept stealthily up his neck and spread across his cheekbones for everyone to see; God, if this was just an infatuation, he didn't want to know what it would be like to love Dracia.

The word "love" seemed to loom over him; liquefy then evaporate into a light red mist; dance sensually above him, lowering inch by inch in tantalizing slowness; wrap seductively around him, heating his body with a comfortable fire; form a feminine hand to gently tug on his chin; and with pulling his face to meet hers, Dracia's petal soft lips pressed against his-

"Who's Dracia?"

Harry snapped out of his trance with a startled spasm of his body and in a flash, he lurched off his bed and snapped around to see Dudley standing on the threshold of his bedroom door, practically filling its entire space, with a bag of chips in one hand and the other disappeared inside said bag. His expression clearly told Harry that he had let slip Dracia's name; a gloating look blurred the natural color of his eyes and his visage was contorted into a distasteful sneer; a sneer that was so often placed on his face, one would think he was born that way.

"So?" Dudley pressed after shoving a fistful of chips into his mouth and shifting his weight from his left foot to his right. "Who's Dracia?"

"That's none of your business, Dudley." Harry answered sharply, regaining as much of his composure as he could. "She's just a girl." Harry added spitefully, seeing Dudley make no move to leave without information – more like embarrassment.

"A girl!" He exclaimed with mock shock. "Girlfriend?"

Harry suppressed a growl. "No, not my girlfriend. She's just a girl I know."

"Of course…" Dudley muttered. "What kind of girl would want to be your girlfriend, especially one as pretty as this Dracia?"

"Just shut your mouth, Dudley!" Harry snapped, folding the letter from Hermione with such force, it was quite a surprise that the parchment didn't tear. After tossing the letter into his trunk, Harry noticed Dudley's continuous presence and let out a shaky, exasperated breath. He snapped his head to face his demented cousin with his mouth open to spout out some devious insult followed closely by a "Get out now!" but stopped: for some strange reason, Dudley's chip-stained lips were curled into a piggish gloating smirk. This baffled Harry to the extent of having him subconsciously lower his guard and allow the confusion to show on his face. This only caused Dudley to widen his smirk and narrow his eyes into slits; his ego practically gushing out of his body, screaming at Harry "You're so slow!" But what could it be?

Harry recalled the words spoken during his conversation with his cousin:

"She's just a girl I know."

"Of course… What kind of girl would want to be your girlfriend, especially one as pretty as this Dracia?"

Harry's eyes widened. "W-what did you sa-"

"She is very pretty if you get passed that ugly smirk." Dudley commented, wiping his salty fingers on his striped shirt. His smirk widened into a mischievous smile as he reached for his pocket and waved about a small square of paper – on further examination, Harry saw that it was a photo.

But not just any photo; it was the photo of Dracia Malfoy he had taken one afternoon out of curiosity and boredom. But after his feelings for Dracia had developed grandly, Harry kept this picture as some sort of keepsake – exactly why, he didn't even know himself. But he did know that the picture held significant value to, as Hermione had put it once, his heart.

Harry extended his arm. "Give it back." He ordered sternly.

But Dudley simply waved the photograph in front of the beady eyes he inherited from his mother. "Nah, I think I'll keep it for a while."

"Give it back now!" Harry ordered, extending his arm further. "It's mine so give it back to me, Dudley."

"You know…" Dudley mused aloud, raising a thick eyebrow while watching the blond haired girl dance about slowly in the moving magical photograph. "If she wasn't a freak like you, maybe I'd be interested."

In a split second, Dudley's scream echoed across the entire house: "MUMMY! HE'S DOING IT! HE'S DOING IT!"

The fat lump of a teenage boy sprinted across the hall, down the stairs, and into his mother's lap as fast as his short stout legs could carry him. He blubbered out incoherent words into his mother's lap but the scream and the echoing already informed an infuriated Vernon Dursley what had taken place – or what his bias allowed him to deduce.

Harry grabbed the photograph of the one he secretly admired and hid it behind his back just as his Uncle Vernon thundered into the room, looking ready to kill.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, BOY?" He boomed, narrowing the distance between himself and Harry.

"Dudley had my picture!" Harry tried to explain. "He wouldn't give it back so I just moved towards him to take it and he screamed!"
This was the basic truth: upon hearing the insult Dudley uttered, Harry couldn't help himself from lurching forwards in pure anger, his hand instinctively reaching for the pouch he kept his wand in (though he wasn't wearing his ropes at the time). But simply seeing Harry's wand-hand twitch made Dudley flee in terror; Harry knew he had acted impulsively and the consequences wouldn't be light.

"YOU LIAR!" Uncle Vernon accused, his face turning an unhealthy shade of scarlet. "YOU WERE TRYING TO DO THAT AGAIN, WEREN'T YOU? YOU WERE GOING TO USE IT AGAINST DUDLEY!"

"Why bother asking me if you have your mind made up already?" Harry snapped back, irritated by his uncle's presence.

"Don't talk back, boy!" Uncle Vernon exclaimed; his yelling had ceased as his voice lowered to venomous hisses.

"Hadn't you asked me a question, though?" Harry retorted, readying himself for more yelling.

And it had indeed come.

"DON'T GET SNIPPY WITH ME, BOY!" Uncle Vernon thundered, taking a menacing step towards Harry.

"I'm not getting snippy!" Harry defended. "I'm trying to explain what happened! If Dudley hadn't stolen-"

"Dudley would never do such a thing!" Uncle Vernon snarled. "He was probably trying to return it because you had lost it!" He pointed an accusing finger at Harry before welling up. "And you attacked him for it – the poor boy! He was just trying to do good and he gets evil in return!"

Oh of course! Harry mentally rolled his eyes. The same poor boy who steals money from your wife's purse then blames it on me! And the same exact boy who sneaks out late night with his friends for a quick smoke!
The Dursley's blamed Harry Potter for everything that went wrong in the world; from the cause of World War I to the reason why Uncle Vernon had to get up every morning so early; this was all Harry's fault in the eyes of all three Dursley's. They were all so perfect and pleasant but Harry was just abnormal and weird because he could do things the Dursley's could never have imagined: magic.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, boy!" Uncle Vernon demanded, turning his back and heading to the door. He turned sharply and grasped the door handle with a podgy, sweaty hand. "As punishment, you will be locked up here with no dinner!" He slammed the door shut, muttering about weirdo's and freak's as he thundered down the stairs – with his weight, he could do nothing other than thunder down the creaking steps.

Harry kicked the trunk nearest him; angered at himself, his relatives, but most of all, angered at Dracia Malfoy.

He sat on his lumpy mattress and stared at the picture in his hands; Harry had always accepted the trouble if came along with her presence but she wasn't even here this time but still continued to cause him problems.

He narrowed his eyes at the happy girl in the picture.

Her shock of platinum blond hair danced in the air from her high pony tail as she moved around the picture in movements so fluid and precise, Harry could have sworn she had known of his taking her photograph. Her body, discarded of its usual green ropes, was clad in a wrinkled dress shirt with her silk green tie hanging loosely off her neck; her cuffs were undone and her sleeves were pushed up passed her elbows, revealing the soft, pale skin of her arms; and though he couldn't see it in this upper body shot, Harry knew she had been wearing her usual school skirt, hiked up an inch above school standards (for she always felt the need to disobey Dumbledore's – or anybody else's – orders) and the tiny Slytherin emblem sewn delicately on very bottom of her skirt near her right thigh; her black socks, Harry remembered, were the only article of clothing protecting her feet from the dew and dirt of the freshly cut green grass she was playing on. Upon closer examination of the picture, her high heeled dress shoes were discarded haphazardly on the lawn, near the edge of the picture. Her pink lips were curled into a smirk throughout the entire duration of the picture before it repeated itself. Exactly like this, many found her – though most of the time she had her shoes on. But other than that, this was how they – how Harry saw her at school.

But this was taken the year Harry had first realized his feelings for her – his fifth year.
Could Dracia change her so casual appearance to suit something that Harry knew was not her?

The emerald eyes Harry inherited from Lily Potter gazed at the moving girl; so carefree; so happily oblivious to the emotional turmoil she put him through even when she wasn't to be seen. People change their appearances often when they are not satisfied with their current looks; Harry knew this. But he didn't want Dracia to be one of them; her appearance suited her perfectly, that was beyond a doubt. There was no way she could be unhappy by the radiance and beauty of her current visual aspect; at least, that is what Harry Potter hoped.

Resting the picture of Dracia Malfoy on his small toilet table, beside the picture of Lily and James Potter twirling about beneath a fall of snowflakes, and flicking off his bedside lamp, Harry tucked himself into bed, deciding that sleep is what he needed right now before Dumbledore arrived on his doorstep. His mind and body was strained and tired; Hermione would have a fit if she found out how he pushed himself that day, being the one to constantly nag him to take it easy after… well after what happened at the Ministry…

Harry barricaded his mind from unwanted memories of his Godfather's sudden departure from this world before snuggling into his pillow, letting thoughts of Dracia ease his mind.

Beneath all the deceit and lies, she was beautiful; he was sure of this.

Dracia Malfoy was like a diamond in the rough; Harry Potter only hoped that it was he who was destined to clean and cut that diamond for the entire world to see.

Dracia…

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