The Girl Who Was A Boy:

Author's Notes: This plot bunny has been bothering me for a while so I decided to finally try my hand at it. It's a little cliché, I admit, but I couldn't resist. It's an AU to Book Five, as in the same canon events take place, but this time around Draco just happens to be female.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm merely borrowing them for the time being. This is slash (sort of). Don't like it? Don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy.

"Come along now, Draco. It's vitally important we drop these off to Mr. Borgin as quickly as possible." Lucius Malfoy skirted a one eyed hag wearing a dirty green dress with his son trailing behind him, closely on his heels. The grimy hag gave Draco a leer and the Slytherin boy shuddered. Knockturn Alley was hardly the most pleasant of places, but ever since the return of He Who Must Not Be Named it had become even more unsavory than before, which was indeed saying something.

However, even the most repulsive of individuals scampered out of his father's way as they strode proudly through the cobbled street. It made Draco smirk, thinking that his father was feared so. Draco knew Lucius was involved in the Dark Arts and was probably even a Death Eater, but it was a vague sort of knowledge, like how he knew his father was a ministry official, but wasn't quite sure what Lucius actually did at his office. Scaring people by throwing around his father's name was a simple game and while he knew it annoyed Lucius it was still fun.

Of course, not all of it was fun and games. The incident at the Quidditch World Cup match and the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament had proven otherwise, showing Draco another facet to his father he wasn't quite sure he liked. But despite that, he still found himself saying things that were cruel and quite nasty because it was only way to get under Potter's skin. Old habits were hard to break, after all. As a Slytherin and a Malfoy, taunting Gryffindors was his job and he'd done his job admirably if the hex marks he'd woken up with on the Hogwarts Express two weeks ago were any indication. And his father had been quite unhappy about finding him hexed into unconscious with Crabbe and Goyle.

Lucius was much more nervous and short tempered than ever before now that the Dark Lord had returned. He and Narcissa had been arguing of late, though Draco didn't know exactly why. They'd even cleaned out the secret chamber under the drawing room floor which held an accumulation of Dark Arts procured by generations of Malfoys. Lucius had stuffed them all in a Bottomless Sack and headed towards Knockturn Alley to get them off his hands. Because Draco was his heir, he'd brought him along to watch the transaction. His father had even promised to let Draco in on a few dark secrets this summer, like what had actually gone on in the Chamber of Secrets and why Sirius Black had been after Potter their third year. After all, one day he would be the man of the house and he needed to know these things.

Lucius usually wouldn't let his son tag along with him, but Draco needed new robes and Knockturn Alley was close enough to Madam Malkins that it was easier to just bring Draco along than to make two trips. "Now, what are the rules?"

Draco cast the older man a sullen glance. He hated being treated like a child. "Don't take anything."

"And?" Lucius prompted.

"Don't touch anything, don't whine for anything, and don't say anything."

"Good boy. Ah, here we are."

They entered the dingy establishment, the bell on the door wheezing out a half hearted tinkle before falling silent again. The shop was crowded with all manner of things and Draco gave the Hand of Glory a wistful glance before walking towards the counter where his father was standing. Mr. Borgin came out of the back room with an oily smile.

"What can I do for you today, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I'm selling various knick knacks that… some people wouldn't look favorably upon if they knew I had them in my possession."

Draco tuned them out in favor of wandering around aimlessly, taking peeks at various items. There was a particularly interesting lamp that looked Arabic in origin. It even had symbols scratched into it's side. The Slytherin glanced cautiously at his father, who was still doing business with Mr. Borgin. The older man was completely was immersed in his conversation.

The lamp was on the back of the shelf, behind what looked to be a bottle of poison and figurine made out of clay. The clay statuette was badly sculpted with merely a few large bulges for its stomach and breasts and it looked very, very old. The lamp behind it glittered enticingly and with thoughts of genies and wishes swimming in his head, Draco pushed the clay figurine out of the way in order to reach the lamp.

As soon as his fingers made contact with the clay figurine he screamed, his eyes rolling back in his head as he crumpled to the ground in a heap of limp limbs and robes. His last thought was of his father.

He's going to wring my neck.

To Be Continued…

Constructive criticism and comments are more than welcome.