Title: Heaven Forbid

Author: XiaoLang - Kaz

Rating: PG13

Summary: I hate him; I wish he was dead. He wants me dead and I couldn't care less. Let him sneer; let him glare; let him express his hatred for me. Let him ignore me, and yet keep all his attention on me. I don't care. …I think I'm in love with him.

Disclaimer: the book series of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. All work relating to the book series or the content and characters within belong to her alone.

Chapter V

~*~*~*~*~

"Harle!" came a voice behind me as the blonde before me held his cheek in surprise. (Like the jerk never felt pain before!)

My cheeks reddened as I turned to see Hermione rush towards me. At her glance at my singed clothes, I took my cape and wrapped it around me, trying to avoid stares as Snape approached us.

"What's the matter?" he demanded, as if he didn't already witness the accident.

Hermione stepped up to him and said, "Professor Snape, Harle had an accident with one of the chemicals for the potion. Her clothes are half gone! Could she please change into something decent?"

Snape sniffed and eyed me for a moment before nodded. "Go with her, Granger, and make sure she does."

Hermione nodded in return and swiped my things into my bag for me and gathered her own things before rushing me out of the classroom, the students staring after us, no doubt.

As we walked quickly back to the Gryffindor tower, Hermione held my bag and things as I concentrated on simply keeping myself covered. It wasn't long until we made it up to the tower and we rushed to the girls' dormitory, Hermione dropping our bags once we set foot in the common room. She helped me shrug out of the ruined uniform and get me into a new one after cleaning up in case the chemical touched my skin.

A towel was draped over my head as I sat on my bed in the girls' dormitory. I sighed and I ran it through my hair.

"Are you okay?" Hermione interrupted the silence.

I nodded. "Yes. Other than be overly embarrassed, I'm fine. I feel bad about the clothes, though."

Hermione smiled sympathetically. "I'm sure it's okay to have lost a pair of clothes. There's always replacements, right?"

"Yes, but those were Joan's."

This seemed to surprise Hermione. "What?"

I shook my head. "When I first came, I realized that the uniform that I was given was a male's. Joan, conveniently coming across me and my distress, helped me with clothes and the supplies I needed to be here at Hogwarts," was my effortless lie.

Hermione had a contemplative look on her face, probably registering what I've said, before nodding. "Were they spares of hers? Because I hope she isn't a pair of clothes short for the week."

"Oh, don't worry, she said they were too large for her."

Hermione affirmed my information and smiled again. We agreed that we didn't need to head back to Snape's class so quickly and waited out the rest of the class period. During the time, I got to know more about her and see what I've missed the pass two weeks and some when I withdrew at school. I was able to see the few, slight changes in Hermione that I didn't realize or recognize before. It was nice being able to spend some time with her, even without Ron. Still she had that air of an astute, humorous person. She was far from the lackadaisical people Ron and I were, especially when it came to schoolwork.

When we knew the class ended, Hermione and I headed over to our next classes, all students of the Gryffindor and Slytherin house seeming to either forget, or otherwise ignore the events that happened just a while ago. It wasn't so bad, really, since it seemed that I was given the same attention as before, only that now a bit more boys were eyeing me. It was repulsive, to say in truth, but I came to ignore it. At least, this way, after that show in Snape's room, they knew not to mess with me. They could 'look from afar' for all I cared.

By the time the day was over, I felt nostalgia for solitude. I wouldn't want to stay in for long, I figured as I dotted my sentence, ending my report for Potions once again. My fingers ached, feeling like they were worked too hard, too much, too quickly. ...Kinda like how I felt. The feeling of being hounded, surrounded, stared at. It was like I was under a microscope, as they say.

So, having no care to conceal myself or hide at all, I used the 'new student' label to walk carelessly out to the lake like I used to, a simple word of exploring the school more as my excuse.

At the lake, I sat at my favorite spot, hands linked behind my head with my legs propped up and crossed, one leg bouncing over the other. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts wander like time and time before. The sweet melody of nature and its creatures were all that I needed to enjoy the evening.

But soon my peace was crashed as I remembered what Dumbledore said.

It would be best if you first found out what you ate or drank or saw or even touched for this to happen. If you can get that, then it should be a bit easier for you to figure out a counter spell or potion. But until then, you must endure this.

Find out what happened before I 'transformed'? Okay, well... probably the only thing different from before was that I actually ate in the Hall that night instead of skipping it and heading out here to think. Well, I can't say that I didn't, for I DID come out, but nothing happened then. Okay, so maybe I had a really strange dream about choking, but that's a dream. So... if everything was normal around there, then was it food? If so, then what did I eat that could've triggered this? And was it food at all? It could've been my drink for all I knew.

Shaking my head and snapping open my eyes, I pushed aside that train of thought. Obviously, if I ate or drank something, then there was no way it would still be there. After all, how long does food or drink really stay in a human's system? Not that long; trust me.

I remembered that Dumbledore never told me to find out who did it. But then again, it's probably hopeless to think I could find the culprit. Though... then again, the way to find the name of the potion/spell/plant/food that caused the change, would also be by finding the accused.

"Ah, who am I kidding?" I murmured to myself, sitting up and slamming my palms to the ground. "I wouldn't be able to find them even if I shouted at the top of my lungs."

"Shout what, now?"

Startled, I nearly jumped to my feet at the voice of the approaching figure. Eyes slightly wider from shock, I looked up to see a calm blonde approach me with languid motions, the wind tugging at his clothes and hair, his appearance altered to make him seem almost like a friendly stranger. But who the bloody hell would ever put that sentence with the name 'Draco Malfoy'?

I blinked and composed myself immediately, hiding my shock and forming anger that came on instinct whenever he was around.

"Nothing," I said, a final note in my tone.

But would he listen or take a hint to things like that? No.

He smirked as usual and continued to approach me, stopping just a foot or two away from me. "Don't think so loudly, then."

I snorted and looked away. Talking to him would only create an argument. (That's something I want to avoid.)

But still, he didn't leave. "So, what is Miss new Girl doing out here at this hour?"

"Like you would care what my answer was?"

"And why wouldn't I?"

He made it sound like it was his business what I did.

I glared at him. "Why should you care?"

Question after question...

Malfoy stepped closer to me. I stood up in response to his action and met him squarely, one of my fists clenched in case of having to physically tell him to leave or take something he might say. But, to my surprise, he only stood there, eyes never leaving my face, though he did look like he was studying my expression. It unnerved me in how intense his gaze was, but I didn't think about turning away. I never let my own gaze fall, his cloud-like irises darkening slightly after a few long minutes as some unknown thought crossed his mind.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, he spoke up, asking, "Where are you from?"

I blinked, startled at first, and opened my mouth unsurely to answer. "Um... Another school?"

He shook his head vigorously, as if he needed different answer from me. "No. I mean— Who are your parents?"

"Why?" I asked cautiously.

If I said anything out of the blue, then my cover would be blown and I would be in more hell than I already was. Too much happened last year for me to mess up now, especially with the fact that I was a bloody transgender and had no clue how to turn back. I stepped back and took note of every detail in the actions Malfoy took. He clenched his hands for a moment, then licked his lips, as if they were dry from talking an hour straight. Silence passed between us before he sighed a bit, uncertainty filling his eyes.

"What?" I said, finally.

He looked me up and down before answering, "I can't believe I'm tell you this... You're probably nothing but a lowly mudblood— But you remind me of someone."

Pushing the "mudblood" term aside, I asked, "I remind you of someone? Who?"

Curiosity couldn't have served me better as he answered hesitantly, his jitteriness catching my attention like a bored cat with a butterfly or bird.

"Someone," he repeated a little rushed.

I clasped my hands behind my back and leaned forward slightly, my game up to bat already.

"Who?" I repeated.

He narrowed his eyes at me for a moment before shaking his head. At first, I thought he wasn't going to answer me, but I was proven wrong when he did. And what more: by his response.

"By a person I admire."

Malfoy admires someone? Was that even possible? Was I on bloody crack or dreaming or what? I pinched myself and felt a tinge of pain. Okay, I figured, perhaps I wasn't dreaming and this wasn't fake. Still, who could possibly be better than Malfoy with the way he sees himself and carries himself?

"Admire...?" I thought aloud, realizing a second too late what I said.

"Yes! Admire!" he exclaimed, patience suddenly gone as he gestured with one arm wildly. "Do you have a problem with admiration, mudblood? You better not make fun of me now that you know, or I'll make your bloody life hell here at Hogwarts for as long as you're visiting!"

I was taken back by his cry and stepped back, brows shot up with eyes wide. Out of habit, I apologized softly, but did not approach to comfort him. Comfort probably was the last thing he wanted and being able to know that he even admired someone was probably pushing limits for and with him. I kept my mouth shut and waited for him to calm down (if it was possible that he could), sure that anything I said would only make things worse (since I already knew that it would whenever he was around).

It didn't take long, though, for him to quiet and apologize. The fact that he did surprised me, each new discovery with him disturbing and fascinating at the same time, but I made no verbal comment on it. He ran a hand through his hair as he apologized, looking away from me.

"I don't want to hear about any of this in the halls," he warned.

I nodded. "Is your reputation that much to you?" I asked before I could stop myself.

He looked back at me and passed before nodding.

"My reputation is my life," he explained rather willingly. "If I do not keep it up, I might as well just forget that I ever lived under the name of 'Malfoy'."

I already knew that he was the blood and heir of the Malfoy line, and that his father was an obedient servant to Voldemort (or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as some called him from fear), but always wondered (though secretly) of what his life was like in his family, in his household. I always thought that Malfoy was a spoiled, rotten brat that thought like his father (thus the term "like father, like son") and would follow in his footsteps. But as of this moment, I thought of reconsidering my opinion. I was too good for my own safety and thought of Malfoy, right now as I met his gaze, to just be misled. Under different circumstances I wouldn't have even went down this line of thinking, but since he gave it so willingly, and too a stranger nonetheless, couldn't help but think that way.

"What's your life like?"

"What?"

I tilted my head to the side a bit and narrowed my eyes in observation. "What's so bad in your household that you must live a certain way or else you are given the option of death or crucial pain?"

Malfoy looked away, out to the lake. But even with his back turned, I could still catch his expression of distress and anger.

"My father is a demanding and powerful man. There is no word against that. He has been feared and will always be feared, especially those who know who he truly is. The only person who he fears himself is Voldemort." He glanced back to see my expression and seemed surprise that I didn't flinch at the name. Still, he continued. "I'm sure you've heard of him. Lucius Malfoy. A man that carries the look of a lethal man, in his hand a deadly weapon, and on his tongue words that could kill. He associates with the worst people ever imaginable, and is loyal to the worst wizard of all time. Being as almost a right-hand man to Voldemort, it's only natural that all commoners seem to bow at his feet. And being the son of this man only worsens things. It is looked upon that I act like a younger version of him, only better, and I am incapable of making a mistake. There is no option for me to object, or else his reputation will be on the line, and any wrong I do is like a double fault, twice the punishment someone else would get falling on me."

He stopped to face me again. "Ever been cursed?"

I shook my head. The only curses that I'd ever experienced were illegal ones, and I only witnessed and became the target of one because of my teacher (who was actually an imposter— though I won't get into that right now) who taught classes about them. It wasn't fun being on the receiving end of one of those curses, because pain was involved.

Malfoy smiled bitterly. "You shouldn't ever. Do you know about the Forbidden Curses?" At my nod, he said, "You never get used to the pain."

He didn't explain what he meant but I had a feeling (a sickening feeling) of what it was. I paled and he nodded, that smile still upon his lips. From the look in his eyes I could tell he wasn't lying. That only made me feel sicker. Okay, so maybe Malfoy was an asshole. But never did he or anyone deserve to experience one of the Forbidden Curses. And from what I could tell and only guess, he felt the pain constantly.

"When did this start?"

"I was fifteen," came his monotonous answer.

I gaped. "Two years?!"

He didn't seem surprised at my reaction, or sorry. He was already saddened about the topic, I could tell, and there was nothing that could make it any worse (if disregarding my revealing myself). I could only stare at him at his controlled expression and actions, feelings swimming in his eyes and filling his words. Sympathy, pain and understanding were all I felt and could possibly give him.

I attempted at smiling back, but failed miserably at the heavy weight that suddenly filled my heart.

"I... I apologize for this morning," I said after what was forever in silence, an apology all I could give verbally in place of my true sorrow.

Malfoy shook his head. "It's nothing." He turned to smirk a bit and step back toward me. "It's not like your feather punches harmed me any."

I scowled at his light tone but smiled inwardly at his sudden change in mood. I shook a fist at him. "Want more of my 'feather punches'? I'll throw two at you, you bloody arse!"

His smirk widened a bit, almost as if he were to break into a grin, but caught himself before he let it slip. He scoffed and shook his head.

"Tell me that when I actually get a bruise."

I still glared, but refrained myself from taking any physical contact with him (like actually punching him or tackling him and beating him to a bloody pulp).

"Oh, leave me alone."

Malfoy gave a small snort of disbelief, still smirking. "Giving up already?" he asked, but I didn't answer him.

I looked up at the sky instead and sighed a bit.

"The sky's dark. We should go back inside already before we can't figure out which way is which or get in trouble," I said instead of responding.

Malfoy glanced up as well and nodded, starting back himself. I followed a bit after him and made my way across the grounds, finding Malfoy waiting at the doors for me. I lifted a brow at this action, but didn't ask aloud. I didn't have to when he answered me willingly.

"Hurry up, hussy, or I'll leave you out here. I don't think I'll be allowed out if unless I have my damn excuse here with me."

"I am not a 'hussy', you snob!"

But nonetheless, I followed him inside, letting him use me as an excuse so that he didn't get into trouble. I figured that after spilling his guts and unknowingly (to him) alter our relationship a bit, the least I could do for him was let him escort me to the Gryffindor tower or something.

When we reached the tower, he stood a good few feet away from the portrait leading to the common room. I stood with him and thanked him with a nod for being an unnatural shadow in my return to the Gryffindor common room.

"Mudblood!" he called out when I started to leave.

I glared at him for shouting the name made my way back to him, just about to tell him off.

But he cut me off himself when he grabbed my arm and jerked me forward roughly, silencing me with his mouth as it pressed on mine. I didn't even get a chance to blink before he pulled away, letting me go. I opened my mouth to start with a streak of obscenities, he turned around and quickly walked away, leaving me to only utter two simple words after his retreating form.

"Blood hell..."

~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: On one note, I would like to say that those who think that Malfoy was responsible for Harry's change. I'd like to inform you on something. What, you may ask? Simple information. The night Harry encountered Draco at the lake was (if I remember correctly and if you'd read back in Chapter I) the day before he had the dream and before he 'transformed'. And, since Draco's the only one being blamed for things, I won't mention anything else about any of the other characters being responsible for the change. ^^

And, on second note, thank you for my reviewers! I am eternally glad that you continue to read this. But, I warn you, that the chapters from here on out will come in an irregular schedule. Instead of what I've been attempting (which is a chapter each day— though that plan's failed), it'll be off. Though I assure you that there will at least be a chapter each week (if not two chapters).

On another note, people questioned why Harry punched Draco instead of slapped him because it would be "in character". But mind you, Harry is still a guy, no matter what gender he appears as. Guys don't slap people if unless their gay or sissies (And I don't mean that in an insulting way because I happen to be very good friends with some of those people— they just are labeled as such, is all.) So, I think my reasoning for Harry punching Draco instead of slapping him is more in character. (After all, guy traits don't die down THAT easily.)

And lastly, please be sure to review on this chapter too because I'm sure that you're starting to see some development and surprises pop up, huh?

And mostly, who did this to Harry? How long will this 'curse' last? Who knows?! I do! And soon you will too! So please stay in touch and continue to read this story for me!

[Much appreciation to Lu who I know is fascinated in this story. wink]