Turning Draco's Coat

By

Aeriel Ravenna

Rating: R

Summary: Hermione Granger, with the help of Dumbledore, sends Draco into a parallel universe where he is Draco Granger, Mudblood and Gryffindor (as well as Harry and Ron's best friend...) and Hermione is Hermione Malfoy, Slytherin Slut and soon-to-be Death Eater. She goes with him and toys with him, just as he did to her. Will being a Mudblood be enough to bring Draco to the light side? And what will happen when, in the midst of being cruel to Draco, Hermione starts to have feelings for Draco?

A / N : Thank you ADepressedSpooty, .Whitney. ( By the way, I don't usually respond directly to reviews, but at first, my response to your review (the long hair bit) was ' eh, deal with it,' but then, after a few wrong mental images and much debate, I decided you were right—so I'll be re-uploading that with the corrections soon) Silent-Serpent, Nicole-HP-Fan, magictrousers, and young poet15 for reviewing! Please keep up reviewing, I want to know how you think this is going...next chapter will be much more interesting, this one is basically just to fill in the blanks. R&R please!

"Mudblood," hissed Draco when he was at his stand.

"Malfoy," Hermione said calmly, in a form of greeting. Draco narrowed his eyes at her.

"Where are your little buddies, the Weasel and the Potty?" he sneered. Hermione raised one delicate eyebrow.

"Why would you care, Malfoy?" She asked. Draco swore under his breath. Why the hell wasn't he getting to her? She was supposed to be bawling by now. He opened his mouth to angrily retort when Madame Malkin interrupted him by speaking to Hermione.

"Alright, love, take off your old robe—it is rather ill-fitting after all," she said cheerfully. Hermione smiled and complied and the two women began to make small talk amiably. Draco watched them out of the corner of his eye.

Looks like Granger grew up, he smirked, eyeing her new, curvier figure. Shame that body's wasted on a Mudblood—it isn't half bad. Bu then again, the blood's tainted so the whole body must be tainted, too. Madame Malkin had Hermione turn a bit so that her back was facing Draco. Draco took the opportunity to observe the girl.

Mudbloods, he thought distastefully. I don't understand why they're allowed into Hogwarts. They're like—like animals. Its sick, really, like teaching a dog to write or some such. Dogs are meant to be beaten and stay out of our way, like Mudbloods. Actually, dogs and Mudbloods seem quite similar; they must have the same genetic traits or some such.

Draco had always been raised to believe that muggle-borns were a little less than beasts, masquerading as humans. Muggles were regarded the same—Draco had never met one, and never seen one close up, but he was sure if he did he would know immediately. They were supposedly quite repulsive. They smelled horribly and had mush for brains—that's what his father said, anyway. He wished he could meet a muggle in person—he wanted to ask them a few things, if they could answer, anyhow. Draco also wanted to experiment on them—could you, for example, tame them or cleanse their blood? Could you use one as a beast of burden?

Draco continued his musing as Madame Malkin measured and fitted him. He was deep in a daydream of a detailed procedure of how he could dissect a muggle while still keeping it alive when Madame Malkin interrupted his thoughts.

"All done, dear. Here they are—six of our finest robes," said Madame Malkin, beaming.

"Thank you," he mumbled absentmindedly. He walked out of the shop after paying, very pleased with some of the concepts he had made. He was walking to the Owlery to pick up some owl treats for his eagle-owl, Felroy, when he—quite literally—bumped into Theodore Nott, a Slytherin his age.

"Watch where you're going, Nott," Draco sneered. His father was higher in the ranks of Death Eaters than Nott's father was, so he could patronize and pester Nott as much as he wanted without any consequences. Handy, that.

"So sorry, Draco, wont happen again," Nott said, fighting to keep his expression pleasant.

"Yes, well. Make sure that it doesn't, or else you'll have me and a few friends to answer to," Draco said maliciously. God, its fun toying with people.

"Of course, Draco, O Prince of Slytherins," replied Nott, sneakily smiling at him. Draco raised a finely arched white-blonde eyebrow and made a noise of disapproval in his throat. Nott's smile faded quickly.

"That's right, O Slave of the Prince," Draco smirked before leaving him.

oooooooooooo

Two hours later. . .

Hermione pecked her mother on the cheek fondly. "I'll miss you, Mum, but I'll try to come home for Christmas break this year, okay?"

"Of course, dear. I'm just sorry that your father isn't here to say goodbye to you. I love you, darling," her mother said to her warmly, embracing Hermione.

"I love you too. Send Dad my love. Now, Mum, can you go inside? The Knight Bus won't come if there's a mug—if you're standing here. Bye, Mum." Hermione said quickly, trying not to sound callous or hurtful.

"Bye, dear." Her mother kissed her quickly and then left. Hermione awkwardly stuck her wand into the air and—

BANG.

The purple bus came barreling down Hermione's quiet, narrow street. It stopped with an obvious jolt before Hermione, and a pimpled young man who must have been twenty or so stepped out.

"'Ello, there, wel'ome to the Knight Bus. Me name's Stan. Can I 'elp you wif your bags?" He asked her, grinning lecherously.

"Uh, sure. Thanks," Hermione said.

"No prob'em. Where d'you want 'oo go?" Stan asked her.

"Hogwarts, please. Outside the gates if possible, but Hogsmeade is fine as well," Hermione said quickly.

"'Ogwarts?" Stan asked, wrinkling his nose. "Whachoo wanna go there now? Isnit a bit early for you to go there?"

"Er, yes. I have some work to do there though," Hermione said, not eager to elaborate. His accent is getting quite annoying. I mean, Cockney is fine and dandy, but it's quite hard to understand him.

Stan led her onto the bus, motioning for her to sit down on a bed with a purple and green bedspread.

"'At'll be 'eventeen sickles, and I'll frow in some 'ot chocolate for free," he grinned at her. The way he smiled at her gave her the creeps and made her skin crawl unpleasantly. She hastily gave him the money and lay back on her bed , sipping at her hot chocolate. She began thinking about her project.

Well now, lets see. It'll take to long to recreate my whole childhood for him, so I guess once he wakes up there, we can send him my memories—altered for him, of course. Won't he be surprised to be Draco Granger! She grinned. Hmm, should I actually be there? It would be quite intrusive but—oh! It would be fun to be Hermione Malfoy and get under his skin a bit. I won't let him know I'm there, though.

Wait. She suddenly thought. How will I know when it's time for him to come back? What if he SAYS that he's changed, but is just lying? Well, I should definitely bring that up with Dumbledore, perhaps he'll have an idea. With this soothing thought, Hermione fell into a light slumber.

oooooooooooo

She was trapped, in a little cardboard box with one little eye-hole. She beat against the sides of the tiny box, kicking, screaming, but no sound escaped her lips and hitting the box only gave out a very soft muffled sound.

CRACK!

Though she couldn't see it, she instinctively knew that was a whip on the box. And though nothing ever touched her skin, she could feel searing pain on her back, as if the whip had gone through the box.

"Stupid Mudblood Bitch, you're trying to trap me but I've got you. I've got you exactly where I want you and I refuse to let go." Malfoy's voice came. Hermione whimpered. He began to shake the box, as if to shake some sense into her.

"Hermione..."

"Hermione!"

"'Ermione!" funny, she thought, that sounds just like the conductor.

ooooooooooo

"'Ermione!" Hermione woke with a jolt to Stan shaking her.

"Wh-what?" she asked, rubbing a temple.

"'Ogwarts in five minutes," he said to her, in a way she though might be kindly, but it was hard to tell with his accent. She nodded, yawning, and stretched. Reaching for her bag, she noticed something sticking out of a side pocket. It was a slip of parchment.

It read:

MUDBLOOD WHORE, I HOPE YOU DIE SOON. YOU'RE NOT WORTH THE SLIME ON A DECENT PUREBLOOD'S SHOES. HERES TO A LONG, PAINFUL DEATH, BITCH.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, but she quickly wiped them away before they could trail down her reddened cheeks. She had been getting notes like this since the end of fifth year, and she had no idea who sent them. She never saw anyone put them there, and there were never owls in sight—in fact, when she had once tried to show one to Ginny, all Ginny saw was a scrap of blank parchment.

Hermione closed her eyes. People today can be so cruel.

"'Ogwarts!" Stan called.

ooooooooooooo

Draco scowled. His day was getting worse by the minute. First, he had lost forty Galleons to a Slytherin comrade, with whom he had betted on the outcome of a brawl. Then, he had wandered into the ice cream parlor only to find it swarming with small, snot nosed children. He'd had to fight his way out, and came out slightly worse for wear, with a ripped (silk, no less!) shirt from where a toddler had grabbed onto him. Now, and this was the cherry on his sundae of misery, Pansy had found him.

"Ooh, Drakie, I've missed you sooo much," she purred in a way that she undoubtedly thought seductive. It wasn't. He felt like throwing up and screaming at her, 'get off me NOW you disgusting soiled whore of a pureblood!' Instead, he smiled weakly, trying not to breathe in her disgusting scent. It smelled as though she hadn't bathed in a while and had tried to cover it up by swimming in a large vat of vile perfume.

"Yes, I suppose you have," Draco choked out. Pansy smiled at him, her already squashed face bunching together in a most repellent way.

"So, Drakie, darling, how's your summer been," she leaned forward, putting her face almost in the elegant arch of where Draco's neck met his jaw line.

"Fine, yes, quite brill, but, er, must be off now!" Draco said getting up and walking as fast as he could (and being so very tall, that was fast) away from the girl. He thought he faintly heard her call to him,

"But Drakie, you never got your sundae!"

He smirked suddenly, his mood changing. He had power over such pathetic people. All people, really. He dominated over Slytherin but then again that was probably because all of them put together (excluding Blaise, of course) could probably only scrape together just enough IQ points to pass by 'dim as a tomato plant.

It was a shame, really, because Draco sometimes wished he had someone as intelligent, witty, and quick as he was. Well, there was Blaise, but with Blaise you had to keep an eye on him at all times and keep a steady hand to your back to make sure he wasn't stabbing it. He supposed one day he would find someone like that. Maybe.

Draco sauntered down to the fireplace, and tossing full handful (He was a Malfoy, he could afford such petty expenses) into it, he called, "Malfoy Manor!" and stepped into the flame.

After being mildly tickled for quite a few fireplaces, Draco arrived home.

Into the living room.

Where his parents just had to be snogging.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust and turned his face away. He coughed, politely, and said,

"Uh, right, I'm here and I must get through the door you two are blocking, could you please move?" He turned his head to see his parents, slightly reddened, move away from the door. He nodded at his mother and winked at his father, who scowled at him before moving again closer to his wife, before he left.

Normally he wouldn't get away with such 'impertinence,' but his father was obviously in a good mood, for he was actually touching his wife.

Draco winced at the thought. He would probably be scarred for life, now.

Draco entered his room and sprawled on his bed, landing on Severus Snape, who he hadn't notice sitting there.

After the confusion died down, and Draco had moved himself so that he was no longer actually in contact with the man, Draco smirked.

"Uncle Sev! How nice you see you again,"

"Yes, yes, whatever, boy," Severus said gruffly.

"What brings you here to my humble" he smirked again, "abode?" Severus smacked the boy's arm lightly, playfully.

"Does a so called 'uncle' need a reason to visit his favorite nephew?" he asked, a hint of a smile—yes, you read that correctly—playing across his features.

"Well, not usually, Sev, but I know you," Draco said, grinning. Severus was like an older brother, or perhaps even a father to him. In class, they were careful not to act too chummy, however—it would be bad for both of their reputations, they had decided.

"Yes, well, once again you're right. Don't go getting too cocky about it now, mind you," Severus hastily added. Draco smirked.

"What is this oh-so-important news, Sev?"

"Well, I've just come to tell you what you already know, but—congratulations, Draco, you somehow got Head Boy," Severus said, smiling fully now—quite an odd look for him. He patted Draco on the arm. Draco grinned.

"Well, it's no shock; I am the smartest at Hogwarts," he said confidently.

"What makes you so sure, boy? Granger has got higher marks than you," Severus said cunningly. Draco wrinkled his aquiline nose in distaste.

"Ugh, that Mudblood? I have to share a common room with HER?" His voice rose slightly. Severus frowned.

"Yes, aren't you happy? You can taunt her whenever you like,"

"True, but that awful banshee voice, it's horrid. And Pothead and the Weasel, not to mention the Weasellette, will probably constantly hanging about," Draco was almost whining.

"Ah, well. I'm sure you'll be able to—handle it." Severus sneered.

Draco smiled to himself. Yes, he certainly would be able to handle it.

How'd you like it, guys? It's a bit shorter than the first chapter (about half a page), but its just transition, basically...review please!