Disclaimer: All rights and characters belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros™. Nothing is mine but the creativity and storyline.


"Draco."

It wasn't a question, or an issue. It wasn't a plead or an apology. It was a demand; a commandment. He was forcing him do this, and he knew that it may be the very end of his sanity. Or what was left of it, anyway.

The boy in question nodded once before stepping forward, his head held high to accept his task.

He must be the snake in the lion's den, and he was rather looking forward to it.


Oh, Merlin. Spare me.

Does that blood traitor ever stop screaming?

You'd think we'd been torturing and starving him the whole time we've been holding him hostage. Of course, we haven't. We need this screaming mongrel very much alive and well. And to keep quiet, frankly, for the sake of my poor ears. We've only been holding him for a couple of days, to be honest. It was just long enough for father and my Lord to conclude the decision they've made. And I have obliged to do it.

As fun as it may be for me, I know that it will be very dreary and very, very dull. Controlling my frustration will be difficult, also. I mean, the Weasel probably doesn't pop his top with them every time they mention Death Eaters or my Lord. I suppose they have a jolly good gossip about it, not even scared to use his full name.

Thankfully for me, the Weasel has some respect and never uses my Lord's full name. At least I have that in my favour.

"Draco!"

It has started. They have the specimen in question – a single strand of the Weasel's hair. It is time for me to step up and be a man; to accept my duty.

To become the snake in the lion's den.


The whole process for me was difficult, of course. And it felt awful. The nauseating feeling in my stomach didn't go away from the moment I drank the strange maroon liquid – deposited with Weasel's hair – from the moment I looked in the mirror.

I was the Weasel. The blood traitor, the brat; Potter's right-hand mongrel.

I wondered why his Polyjuice Potion had turned maroon, and tasted somewhat sweet. Of all the unsaid things he kept locked up in his chest. It was good to know something that went on inside his head (without Legilimency, of course. We've done that a couple of times on the Weasel, only to be blocked out by a strong defence of Occlumency. It only wavered when we used the Cruciatus Curse, and even then it was nothing of use to us. It will have to go on while I am away doing my mission I suppose. I miss all the fun, don't I?).

As the liquid went down my throat, I could already feel the sickness rising in my throat, and I dashed over the sink to throw up. Although no vomit came up, I watched as the skin on my hands literally crawled, as if millions of little beetles were rummaging around on the inside of my flesh.

My hands grew larger, and I could already tell I was growing taller. Not by much either way but it was still a noticeable difference. Then suddenly, my suit started to grow tighter and tighter around the chest and the tops of my arms, but remained baggy around the tops of my legs. So Weasel was top-heavy, was he?

I ripped off my jacket and undid the buttons on my shirt to give a little relief, and showed a rather impressive chest.

Note to self: tease Weasel about this later.

We never told Weasel why we wanted his hair, of course. But he isn't totally dense for a Blood Traitor. He does hang around with that Mudblood Granger quite a lot, so some of her annoying intelligence would have rubbed off on him, of course. And some of Potter's braveness, we learned, because every time we came close to piercing a thought concerning the Mudblood, a wall would close in around it and we couldn't break through.

I wonder how he feels about the annoying Mudblood?

By this time of wondering, I'd already bent down to see myself in the mirror. Only it wasn't my own face staring back at me – it was the Weasel's.

Yep. This is definitely going to take some getting used to.


Even though I was wearing an awful Gryffindor robe – second hand, it was. Father said it would be more believable if we bought more Weasley-like items – and had the Weasel's stupid wand (which, by the way, would not take to me at all) in my pocket, I still went to sit in the Slytherin carriage when I boarded the Hogwarts Express.

"Ron!" I heard a voice call after me as I passed the more common carriages. I almost continued walking, but then realised that it was me they were calling after. It would be strange, not hearing him as 'Weasel' for a couple of weeks.

I turned, and was greeted by the smiling face of The Boy Who Lived.

Ignoring the sickening feeling in my stomach, I forced an unwilling smile back and slowly made my way to sit with him. Stuffing my bag above into the storage spaces, he stood up and waited, still smiling at me.

Oh dear Merlin, don't do this to me.

But as I rest back down onto a standing position, with my arms firmly at my sides, Potter moved in for a hug.

Skin crawling, I stood and let him wrap his arms around me – at this point, I was actually glad it was Weasel's body he was touching and not mine, but he was still... touching me – and clamp me hard on the back. My arms stayed at my sides, of course, and I still kept the same fake smile on my face.

Potter looked confused as to why I hadn't returned his hug, but he still smiled anyway and sat back down. I chose to sit opposite him instead of beside him to avoid him touching me again.

"Hiya, mate. How was your summer?"

I opened my mouth to warn him that if he ever calls me 'mate' ever again he will not breathe another time to apologize for it. But then, of course, I realised...

"Um..." I began, unsure what the Weasel would say in this situation. The names of his blood-traitor family members ran through my head, and I decided to act as casual as possible. "...It was the same, s'pose," I'd cleverly used a form of slang that the Weasel and Potter normally use when I spy on them. It felt strange to be common, "Mum was the same as ever and, uh..." I looked across the carriage and out the glass doors, where a little red-head was trying to catch my attention. It was Ginny, the Weasel's younger sister. She waved enthusiastically and was beaming hysterically. I waved tentatively back, showing her the same forced smile I'd shown Potter earlier, and was happy when she turned to greet Harry in the same manner. He reacted in a much better way than I had of course, and I immediately saw something that Weasley never could have. As Ginny walked off, I was glad that Potter didn't follow me up on my account of the holidays, and began explaining his own.

"Mine seemed worse than last year. Your Mum said I could come stay, didn't she?" My eyes widened at the prospect of a pause, waiting for my answer, but I quickly reacted as he just went on talking, "Well, Aunt Petunia made me stay just because Aunt Marge had died." Potter began to chuckle deeply, and I could only stare at him. I had no idea what he was talking about. He paused in a little shock, and then explained to me why he was laughing in such a manner at his aunt dying, "Hey, Ron, I'm not saying I'm happy she's dead, of course not." I nodded as he paused, "but she's the one I blew up in third year, remember? She flew off like a balloon and the ministry of magic found her?"

I began laughing intensely fake, and Potter seemed to buy it as he joined in once more, although I could see nothing funny about it myself.

Just then, the door to our compartment opened and I looked up to see the Mudblood stumbling in, her robes already on, too, and a large suitcase in her small hands. Her hair was bushier than ever, and I could already tell before she opened her mouth to talk that my teeth would grind at whatever she chose to say.

"Oh, Merlin, it was murder down there!" She began, and Harry stood up to help her with her bags. She thanked him before sitting down on the edge of where I was sat, and I supposed it was my queue to move over. Cringing all over, I made sure she didn't touch me, and avoided any eye contact with her as I moved further up my seat for her to join me. "First, my Mum thought she'd left my books in the dentist's, but then Dad found them behind the sofa, and then just boarding the train now, someone tried to take my bag off me, claiming it was theirs! I tell you, it truly was awful. I've never met such arrogant people in my life! So how was your holidays, both of you?"

I sang a sweet symphony in my head, thanking Merlin as she had shut up. But then I soon realised she was staring at me, still wearing the same unnerving smile, prompting me to discuss my holidays first. I decided to avoid it with a light hearted joke.

"Hell, you should hear Po-Harry's!" I said a little louder than intended, laughing the same fake laugh I'd laughed at Potter's inflatable aunt story. He bought it, and the Mudblood's gaze turned from me to Potter. As he began telling the aunt story all over again, I looked out towards the window and into the countryside we were already venturing across.

This is going to be a long couple of weeks.


A/N: So, wow! Draco is Ron? How long will it be until Harry and Hermione notice something is up? And how do you like that it's in Draco's POV? :D I thought it would be more interesting, this time. ;)

Next chapter soon, I hope, people, and leave reviews please!

Kelly xxx