A/N: Hey! I thought I'd make a come back with two new stories. Go me. This is one of them. I'm not sure how it will do but I've always fancied the idea of Draco Malfoy having to become a girl. :D Hope you like it. This is only the first chapter. Review if you like it.

Disclaimer: All characters used in this story, except for house elves belong to J.K. Rowling. Even though the idea of house elves is hers. :D

More than a Woman

It was late afternoon at the Malfoy Manor. The sun was beating down eerily on the darkened windows of the tall aged mansion; its long shadow splashing across the garden in the back yard. It had been a long time since any one had seen any real life coming from the house. It was rumored that nobody had lived there in quite a long time. Of course they call them rumors for a reason.

Many witches and wizards, young and old, had seen the Malfoys arrested by the Aurors… All but one of the Malfoys that is. And he hadn't been seen for months. Draco Malfoy just seemed to have disappeared in the time frame that his parents had been locked away for their connections to the Dark Lord. Draco Malfoy himself was never proven to have any real relationship with the Death Eaters, or the Dark Lord for that matter. It was rumored that Narcissa Malfoy really didn't want him involved in his father's affairs, although she herself was.

Of course seeing as many people were caught up in all the excitement, they didn't think for a moment that maybe Draco Malfoy was away at school, but you know how people can be.

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"Can you believe we're going to be sixth years next year?" Blaise Zabini asked throwing his luggage on the shelf above his seat. Crabbe and Goyle followed closely behind him. "Finally we'll be considered upper classman."

"Yeah," Crabbe said with a grin. He looked as though he were going to add on to his sentence but he just stood there smiling at them all with his mouth shut tightly. Blaise stood staring at him for a moment, shook his head slowly, and turned towards the other occupant of the compartment.

"What's hanging Malfoy?" he asked.

Draco Malfoy gazed out the compartment window blankly for a moment then turned to Blaise and shrugged. Blaise's smile drooped a bit.

"What the hell is it with everyone today? You're all just so…dead," Blaise huffed.

"What's there to be giddy about Zabini?" Draco asked. "We're going home. Whoopy!"

"Nobody likes sarcasm Malfoy," Blaise replied rolling his eyes.

"Really? I do," Draco snapped.

The compartment fell silent again.

"Longbottom has a turkey-frog," Goyle said after a moment. "It's really odd looking. You should go see it Draco."

"A turkey-frog?" Crabbe asked his eyes lighting up.

Both Draco and Blaise rolled their eyes.

"Why don't you go see it Crabbe?" Draco asked calmly, his gray eyes wondering over Crabbe's features in a bored fashion.

"Don't you want to see it, Draco?" Crabbe asked.

"Maybe later."

Blaise stood and straightened his expensive robes.

"I'll come," he muttered, giving Draco Malfoy a crooked glance. "You really have been off lately Malfoy," He added before turning to follow Crabbe and Goyle out into the narrow corridor.

Draco watched them go before he brought his hands up to his face and groaned into them. He wanted to scream but knew it wouldn't do any good. He stood and brought his small bag down from the wrack above his head. He rifled through it before he found what he was looking for. He brought out a newspaper clipping, that oddly enough he'd' stolen from Hermione Granger.

On the newspaper clipping he could see his father struggling against the Aurors, only to be brought down. His mother lay stunned next to Lucius, as though she was sleeping, but Draco knew that wasn't the case. He felt guilty that his mother had gotten tied up in the whole mess, but she had only herself to blame.

All Draco knew was that as soon as he stepped foot off of the train, he would no longer be safe… He knew his father was locked away in Azkaban, but it wasn't impossible to escape from the walls of that hideous place.

Draco after all, had brought his father down. His father who had never treated him like a living human being. His father who never let anything go with out punishment. His father, who threatened to give up his own flesh and blood so the Dark Lord could become whole again. Of course almost three years ago, the Death Eaters had schemed up a brilliant plan to get their hands on the wizard they were really after. Harry Potter slipped right into Voldemort's claws right at the end of the Triwizard Tournament.

"Better him than me," Draco Malfoy had said later on that night. They were going to give the Dark Lord Draco's body. It was the same spell they'd tried to cast on Professor Quirrell, although that had gone completely wrong, forcing the two, Professor Quirrell and Voldemort, to share a body. This would be the second attempt at the spell created by the Professor himself, and this time it was guaranteed to go right, seeing as Draco's father had perfected it. In order for a successful casting of the spell, the host or victim of the spell had to give up his or her life so that their body could be taken over by the intruding spirit… Thus Professor Quirrell was the host, and Voldemort the parasite that would be stealing his body. Of course the Professor was perfectly willing to die for his master, whereas Draco Malfoy was not.

Draco blinked, trying to clear his mind from the awful memory of that night.

Flashback:

"It works!" Lucius Malfoy said with a victorious cheer. "You know what this means don't you boy?"

Draco Malfoy saw his reflection in the mirror above the blood stained sink in his father's dungeons. He appeared very pale and sickly under the harsh lighting of his father's lamps.

"I think I do, father," Draco said, swallowing.

"This means that if Potter doesn't make it to that trophy before the others do, we'll be coming for you," Lucius said simply. "We're doing all we can to insure that it doesn't come to that Draco, but if you must, then you must."

"Why can't you do it?" Draco asked hotly.

"Because the Dark Lord needs me here on earth. And in a way, you'll still be here… At least physically. We'll keep your soul locked up tight so we won't lose it…"

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound?" Draco snapped, his fourteen-year-old voice cracking.

"It's not crazy at all son! As soon as we get a hold of Potter, you won't even have to worry about it. Because he'll be all we need. And the Dark Lord shall rise again. One day you'll understand Draco. Now if our plan fails, like I've said, we'll use your body as a temporary shell for the Dark Lord, and when the time comes for him to return to his own body, or when we catch Potter, you'll be returned to your body good as new."

"And have you practiced putting a soul back into its body?" Draco asked, his arms crossed over his chest indignantly.

"How hard can it be?" Lucius inquired imprudently with a shrug.

"Easy for you to say," Draco snarled. "It's-not-your-body!"

Lucius reached up and struck his son across his pale cheek.

"You don't question me!" Lucius boomed. "You should be proud to serve the Dark Lord in such a way! You should be honored that he saw your body as a fit capsule for somebody as powerful as him! We shall come out on top no matter what cost! Even if it means giving up my own offspring so that we can make it so! We're doing this for the good of all our kind!"

Draco backed away from Lucius Malfoy, his hand over his cheek giving him an accusing glare.

"We'll see who comes out on top, father," Draco spat, before turning and leaving the dungeons. The last thing he saw was Lucius coming after him.

Draco remembered slamming the door and running from the house, as fast as he could. He grabbed his broom and was about to kick off of the ground when his mother appeared in front of him. She reached out and placed her hand on the shaft of the broom.

"I'll talk to your father," she'd said with a knowing spark in her eyes.

Ever since Draco was small, he could remember the calming affect his mother's eyes had over him. There were times when they were icy and cold, but never towards him. She smiled at him and cupped his cheek in her hand, her thumb moving back and forth over his skin.

"Come. Dinner's ready," she said.

"He wants to kill me!" Draco said pointing at the front door. "It doesn't matter whether I'm his son or not!"

"It matters," Narcissa said calmly. "He would have never offered you to the Dark Lord if he didn't think you could handle it."

"I think good ol' dad's gone off his rocker," Draco said. "That's what that's about!"

Narcissa giggled, and put her arm around her son.

"I would never let him do anything that would hurt you," she said. "Trust me when I say that you will not have to die for the Dark Lord. Their original plan won't fail."

"How do you know?" Draco whispered his voice high and childish. He felt his cheeks redden, feeling foolish for his outburst.

"Just trust me," Narcissa whispered. "There's more ways than one to catch a mouse."

With that last sentence lingering in the air, Narcissa left her son alone.

Draco stood there in the thin beam of light coming from inside the house, shielded by the partially open door. He stood motionless for a long time; his broom still clutched in his shaking hand. They would kill Potter if they could, he knew that… Potter was the only one who could kill Voldemort; therefore they had to get rid of him... It was for the good of all their kind, as his father had said. Draco gave a short derisive laugh, shaking his head as he moved towards the double doors of the mansion deep in thought.

"Better him than me."

End.

Draco stood at the closed front gate, which opened into the courtyard of the Malfoy Manor. He touched the gate lightly with his hand and it creaked open, the sound itself making Draco jump. He didn't know how long he'd been standing there… He didn't know what he was waiting for. It was dead here, in the courtyard. And to be quite honest he didn't want to go any further.

He'd lived in this prison for all his life and yet it still frightened him. Even though he knew his father was gone… It didn't matter either way. He'd always hated the monstrous mansion, whether Lucius Malfoy resided here or not.

When he was a little boy, he always remembered visiting his play mates at their homes, and when he went inside, there was a warmth that made him feel welcome and safe. His friends would come to his home and want their parents to come get them a half an hour later.

He walked along the rounded driveway, the dark gravel crunching loudly under his shoes as he made his way to the door. He turned to glance at the gate, which usually closed on its own due to his father's magic, and found that it still stood ajar. The only thing that could be heard was the wind blowing throughout the vacant space, between the manor and the garden wall… It rustled through his hair and through his robes.

"Welcome home Draco," he whispered, before continuing on. As he passed the fountain, he saw that the water was gone. A few dead fish skeletons could be seen among the plant matter that had dried there. Malfoy Manor was private property. Therefore nobody was allowed in to keep up its appearance unless otherwise given permission by the owners. A.K.A Lucius Malfoy.

But Draco found that he didn't care about all of that. It had never mattered before so why should it matter now?

He set his luggage down when he entered the entrance hall and looked around. A small beam of evening sunlight shone through the window above the doors, other than that the mansion was dark and silent, apart from a few creaks and moans. He knew the light wouldn't last much longer and found that that made him extremely nervous. He quickly walked towards the set of glass doors to his left and pushed through them. He reached out and pulled at the velvet rope attached to the curtains in front of the massive dining room window. Immediately the room was filled with the warm light of the setting sun.

He let out a breath of relief.

"That's better," he muttered, stepping back to take a better look at the room. He was smiling until he turned and saw the state of the room. Chairs were flung all over the place, the cloth on the table ripped from the polished oak wood. A broken wine bottle lay quietly in pieces on the floor, its contents dried out around it like blood, the crystal glasses in a similar state at opposite ends of the table. Plates of half eaten food that had long since halted in attracting flies, seeing as its contents were dried out and unrecognizable sat untouched, one at the very edge of the table, and one splayed on the floor in a similar state as the whine bottle. Draco took in the tipped candlesticks and broken chandelier, which was making a wonderful center piece on the table, in his opinion. He found it painted a perfect picture of what had happened the night they took his parents.

According to the article, Narcissa Malfoy hadn't fought being arrested. It was Lucius Malfoy who'd done everything in his power to fight his inevitable capture. He'd even stunned his wife and threatened to take her life if the Aurors didn't give him what he wanted. The Aurors of course called his bluff and took him down. He'd made a run for the door with Narcissa in his arms and had met a face full of hexes and spells when he made it outside.

Draco left the dining room and wandered up the spiral staircase, to his room. There was never much light in the corridors that led there, but he knew the way well enough. When he reached his door, he found it standing open. He stepped inside and found that somebody had trashed the room out. It looked as though the Aurors had searched here for something.

He found his desk tipped over on its side. His entire wardrobe was thrown on top of his bed and his papers were all over the floor. Draco knelt down and picked up his artwork. He hoped the entire house wasn't in this state. That would take hours to clean up on his own, and somehow he didn't really think that the house elves would still be in the manor…

Draco bent and picked up his desk so that it sat properly in its original place. This is where he'd written the letter that would bring his tyrant father down and simultaneously inadvertently put his mother away with him. He then opened his drawer and found his small servant bell that he'd had since his fifth birthday.

"Perhaps," he began. He held the bell up and gave it a little shake, its musical tinkling filling the room, sounding louder than it probably was. Somewhere deep in the manor something stirred…

Draco cocked his head slightly to the right to listen. He quickly wandered down the hall to the top of the steps where he could hear the large heavy door of the house elves' quarters being opened. He could see a small beam of light traveling towards the double doors and someone's very high pitched whisper.

"I's is thinking that there's no one here Tangey," the small elf squeaked as the two made their way towards their master. "I's is thinking you's is hearing things. If one of the masters was here, we'd be knowing since they was first arriving!"

"I swear! I heard the tinkling of young Master Malfoy's bell! I don't want to be getting a whipping because we is not coming to look and make sure!" Tangey muttered reaching over and making the small male house elf hold the lantern higher. "Besides if he is here, he'll be wanting us to be feeding him soon. That train ride sure is long."

"That would be nice, Tangey," Draco said quite suddenly, making both house elves shriek in terror. Draco now saw that the male was the Malfoys' younger servant, Kiwi. His mother had named him that because his skin was the same shade of green as the fruit. He was also Tangey's younger brother. Draco stood leaning against the antique railing of the staircase, his eyebrows raised. "And could you please do something about the physical condition of the house? I don't know why you haven't yet, seeing as you've probably been here since my parents were taken into custody."

Both of his small servants, finally regaining their composure, bowed deeply, the tips of their noses nearly brushing the dusty floor of the entrance hall.

"We's is very sorry, sir!" Tangey said quickly, as her brother nodded profusely, his large pointed ears flopping as he did so. "We's were just frightened to be seeing your father, Master Malfoy being taken away as he was! We's were afraid to be showing our faces!"

"You should be afraid to be showing your faces to me right now, whilst the house is in such a poor state," Draco said quietly, his lips tight. "Get to work. Where are the others?"

"They is here too!" Kiwi squeaked, his golf ball eyes wide with terror. His eyes were a very deep blue… Almost like the evening sky.

"Do you think I'm going to punish you? Why are you shivering?" Draco snapped. Kiwi clasped his hands together tightly to try and hide the fact that he was quivering.

"You is making him nervous is all," Tangey replied apologetically, pushing her younger brother behind her. "The others is already starting on fixing the house for you Master Malfoy. We didn't know to be expecting you yet."

"Sure. Whatever," Draco said. "Have one of the others get on dinner."

"Yes sir!" Kiwi squeaked from behind his sister before he turned to run. Tangey began to head in the same direction as him before Draco spoke behind her.

"Tangey?"

She turned around.

"Yes sir?" she asked.

"How much did the Aurors take from the house?" he inquired, placing his hands in his pockets.

"They went and took anything they could get their hands on, Master Malfoy," Tangey said sadly. "They even took your mother!"

"I know that!" Draco said shortly. "I meant materialistically."

"They's be taking anything they could be finding," Tangey replied. "There were some places that they couldn't pry into, sir. I is sure your father's things are still sitting locked away and safe."

He saw her shiver visibly.

"But some of those things they is finding, I is glad they is gone…" Tangey said finally. Draco nodded more to himself than to her.

"Right," he muttered. "Be gone."

There was a pop and a small flash of light as Tangey disappeared.