First Published: August 28, 2004
Summary: What would happen if Draco Malfoy wasn't the son of the pureblooded family he thought he was? What if he can no longer call Hermione Granger a mudblood for the tables have turned and she wasn't a muggleborn but pure who had been switched at birth? What if the author threw in Pansy Parkinson into the mix just for the heck of it. And what would happen if their hatred shifted to a frenzied mixture of emotions that the two can't understand?... HORROR.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything Harry Potter. Why do I have to keep repeating my self? It's bad enough I don't own it, and now you're making me sad by making me write this. :cries:
Turned Tables
by Queen of Serpents
Prologue: Fish Out of Water
-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-
I have been fished out, stripped, and hung to dry.
I, Draco Malfoy, am no longer a Malfoy. No longer a pureblood. No longer worthy of roaming these streets. I'm lower than low. No better than the mudblood Granger. And not worthy of living. These blood cells that flow through my veins are tainted and foul. No longer am I who I thought I was. No longer am I me.
What happened you ask? Why am I feeling so low and unworthy? Why is it that I'm depressed you say?
Well you would be too if you just found out that the father you have always looked up to, the father that you always admired and wished to follow and become suddenly told you that your mother isn't the woman you thought she was. That Narcissa Malfoy wasn't the woman that gave birth to you. You would be as depressed and frustrated as well if you found out you were the son of a muggle whore that happened to carry your father's baby in her womb. You would want to bury your own grave alive if you found out that as soon as you were born your muggle mother was killed and deemed "no longer useful." You would wish to kill that woman again, your father, the mother-who-wasn't, and all else that had lied to you and taught you that you were someone great, a pureblood, the highest and superior of them all... if you were in my shoes.
If you were in my shoes you would also want to cry. Which is, in fact, what I'm doing this very instant.
"Son," my father had told me. "I have some very grave news that might shock you. But I want you to always remember that no matter what I say, you are my son. Though in my eyes you will never be the son I had always wanted, nor can you ever be that son that would fulfill my very desires and carry on the Malfoy name, I shall plead with the Dark Lord to keep you from being tortured and killed."
Wonderful start to the wonderful news was it not? He would plead to the Dark Lord to not have me killed. What a wonderful father I have. How much he loves me! How much he cares! (note the sarcasm)
Fuck him and let him rot in hippogriff dung after peeling off his skin, gorging out his guts and ripping his heart from his chest and forcing him to eat it while he still can. The fucking bastard.
"You see son, your mother is not who you thought she is and you are not who you think you are," he began taking a sip of that tongue burning FireWhiskey.
I merely blinked knowing that interrupting him would bring dire consequences.
"I wished to tell this to you long ago, but Narcissa had always pleaded with me to tell you until you are of age. Now I know this isn't the greatest birthday gift a father can give to his son on his 18th Birthday, but then again this is quite important for you to know." He paused again for another sip and when he spoke again his mouth smelled strongly of liquor. It was foul. Yuck.
'Cut the crap and get to the point' I would have answered but the talk about how I am not who I thought I was made me speechless and besides I knew better than to interrupt him. The consequences would be severe. The very least would be the Crucio so you can understand what would happen if he got really ticked off. Ouch, better not think about that.
"You're mother is not Narcissa Malfoy, Draco." He paused yet again and took an extra long sip for added dramatic effect and finally said. "You're mother was some muggle whose name is..." he paused yet again, his forehead wrinkled in concentration.
Meanwhile, I was glad he had paused for my mind raced a mile a minute. My whole head was screaming 'WHAT THE FUCK!' but I didn't say a word. He'll continue eventually.
"Well I really don't know what her name was but she was a muggle you see," he continued. Great he didn't even know her name. What sort of a person is he? No wait I don't know half the names of the girls I've slept with so I guess I have nothing against him.
"She was a beauty," father said dreamily and I couldn't help but wonder when I saw this sort of expression on his face. A muggle 'beautiful?' Surely he jests!
"Unfortunately her blood is so foul I shouldn't have been even breathing within a mile from her." Ahh that's the father I know.
Wait a minute. My mother is a muggle? What the bloody fuck!
"You see," he continued again taking another sip of his whiskey. Merlin's toenails if he wasn't my father and a Death Eater too, I'd take that bottle away from him and chuck it out the window!
"That muggle woman was pregnant. At first I was furious. How can a muggle be pregnant with my child? I should've killed her like all the other muggle girls I had but I felt pity on her. Her beauty was quite captivating. If I didn't know her muggle parents I would've sworn she was a Veela. Anyway back to current matters, she was pregnant and Narcissa found out. She was quite pleased shockingly. I'd expect her to feed me to the thresals..."
I would too. Actually it's still not a bad idea. I could still do it. Muhahaha.
"...but she did not. She didn't want to have children that Narcissa. Said she didn't want to ruin her figure. I didn't blame her. Her body is the only thing that draws me back to her. Her personality reeks worse than a rotting corpse a week old. "
So does yours, I added mentally.
"...So she decided to let the muggle stay at a house we provided. The Dark Lord wasn't pleased but I assured him you would be a worthy wizard like I and in the end he didn't disagree. The muggle gave birth. You were born. Her work was over and... as you know our customs Draco, she was killed." He took another prolonged sip of the whiskey and my head was pounding with one word. Fuck.
"By next week I expect you to move out. We have no room for half-bloods even if you are my son," Lucius said.
And that was it. Nothing else had he said. Not even a 'I'm sorry, son' or a 'I should've told you before I raised you as an arrogant pureblooded bastard like myself.' You'd expect him to be more sympathetic. But who am I kidding, the fact they allowed me to live was good enough. Now I was kicked out of the house. Wonderful. I didn't even know how to survive on my own having been raised solely dependent on elves and my father.
Now a week later with some money my father had left under my name in the Wizarding bank, I sit here under the stars in the park in Hogsmeade with no where to go. I'm stripped and have been lied to. I am no longer a pureblood, no longer who I thought I was. I am a nobody. Shit what's everyone going to think about my reputation?
Sitting here with so many witches and wizards passing my way, I feel lonely and out of place. Being a half-blood I feel as though I don't belong here.
I'm like a fish out of water.
Fuck it's raining now. Wrong analogy. Must find some shelter.
I've been fished out, stripped, and hung to dry.
I, Hermione Granger, am no longer a Granger. No longer a muggleborn. The blood that runs through my veins are pure as some call it. My parents are not who I thought they were. I am no longer who I was brought up to be. I'm no longer me.
What happened you ask? Why am I saying that I'm not a muggleborn? What happened to make me both sad, happy, and angry at the same time you say?
Well you would be sad too if you just found out that your parents that raised you and fed you, changed your dippers and shared your laughter and sorrow were no longer yours. You would be sad too if suddenly your mother comes bringing news that devastate you. You would be angry too if you found out you were switched at birth by someone you despise. You would happy if you found out you were really a pureblood. You would want to jump up and down in Draco Malfoy's face and go 'Ha! I'm not a mudblood anymore! I'm a pureblood like the rest of ya!' You would also be disgusted if you found out you switched places with the pug-faced slut of the school Pansy Parkinson.
If you were in my shoes you would also want to cry. Which is, in fact, what I'm doing this very instant.
"Hermione," my mother (or rather mother-who-wasn't) told me. "We have some very grave news that might shock you. But I want you to always remember that I love you no matter what. And no matter who your real parents are I'll always love you like you were my own daughter."
Huh? 'No matter who your real parents are?' Way to go mum! You have just won the prize for most tactfulness! (note the sarcasm)
"I wished to tell you this when we first found out 7 years ago when you were admitted to Hogwarts but your father had asked me to tell you this when you were more ready. Being 18, I suppose you are."
I blinked and wanted to strangle my mother-who-wasn't to stop beating around the bush but knew it wouldn't be polite so I sat like the little girl I was and waited for her to continue.
She began to cry.
I smacked my forehead and walked over to her (she was sitting on my bed as I sat on my chair at my desk reading a book like always) and patted her back, sitting next to her.
"You aren't our daughter!" she cried out and then fell into a fit of sobs. I stopped patting her back and took my hand away from her as though she was fire and I was about to get burned. I wanted to smack her, thinking she must be saying a joke, but mothers don't joke saying that you aren't their child.
"You were switched at birth! I didn't know you weren't my child. Indeed you don't have blonde hair and didn't have straight teeth like us --"
Wait a go mum for bringing out my buck-teeth that you wouldn't fix, I thought grudgingly.
"...but you always were so smart we never would have even thought you couldn't be our child!" she said wailing some more.
But now that I think of it, I sometimes doubted these people were my parents. I mean look at their blonde hair! Both of my parents have it. And it's straight too! And look at mine! It's all frizzy and brown!
"Before you went to Hogwarts, remember how we had your shots given?" she said after some of her sobbing subsided. I nodded my head. "Well that was the Hospital that you were born in. They saw you and I don't really know what happened but a month later a letter arrived telling us that you aren't our daughter. You were switched with my own. They told me her name was Pansy and that your real mother had her delivery there. Another month later your Headmaster Professor Dumbledore told us that Pansy went to your school. He mentioned that the Parkinsons were Death Biters--"
"Eaters," I corrected.
"Oh right, Death Eaters. I've been meaning to ask how can one eat death? Is that what you witches and wizards do?" my mom asked.
I must say I was pretty mad at her and told her to get on with the facts right after I stopped laughing my arse off. After crying for another minute, she continued. "Mrs. Parkinson was cursing muggles, I believe it said, and all of a sudden her labor pains began and she was sent off to the nearest Hospital and I guess those nurses, clumsy bitches," she added. "...mixed it all up."
I smiled as my mother-who-wasn't, called nurses 'clumsy bitches'. She always hated them, even after being a dentist for the very reason that one had dropped me on my head as I was a child. My mother-who-wasn't was always mad but my father-who-wasn't said that it was the reason I'm so smart. He said I couldn't even say 'goo-goo ga-ga' until I was 4 and as soon as I was dropped on the head, I began to read out of the blue. I never believed him, but I suppose he's sort of right. Maybe I would've been a stupid little girl like Pansy if I didn't.
Speaking of Pansy...OH MY GOD I'M A PARKINSON! Kill me now!
"Anyway now that you are 18, your real parents want you to move in with them. Pansy, what a dreadful name I must change it, shall come home to us. From next week..." she began but started to cry again. Urgh mothers! Can they get any more emotional? "From next week on you'll be living with them."
Now it was my turn to cry.
A week later here I am, in Hogsmeade sitting on a bench in the park I never knew Hogsmeade had. I didn't meet my parents. I'm sure they'll probably be disgusted by me, being raised as a muggle and all. And I'm not sure I want to go there. I would really feel out of place there. It would be completely different than home. It's totally going to be a different crowd and all and I'm scared. I also miss my parents.
I'm can't believe I'm no longer who I thought I was. No longer 'the mudblood.' I don't even know who I am anymore everything changed so fast.
I feel as though I'm a fish out of water.
It's raining so I should rephrase that. Oh no! It's pouring hard now. I got to go look for shelter!