Turning Draco's Coat
By
Aeriel Ravenna
Rating: R (for language and later chapters – perhaps a bit of violence as well, but not that much.)
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: Hiya there, faithful (you are faithful, aren't you?) readers! Here is the latest update in the story. I apologize in advance for leaving off at such an odd place. Won't say any more about that here, though...Sorry that I haven't updated in a while, I'm just getting back in the swing of school and also I'm trying to make these chapters fairly long...thanks, review, enjoy!
"Ah, Miss Granger, how nice to see you again," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling.
Hermione, who had been facing the other direction, started at the noise and jumped, causing the books that had been previously innocently sitting on her lap to clatter to the floor.
"Professor! You startled me," Hermione gasped once she had regained her posture. Dumbledore bowed his head apologetically, smiling.
"Now, why don't we go over what you have, Ms. Granger," he said, not quite asking. Hermione nodded and handed him a paper upon which she had listed her ideas and the problems she had encountered. As the brilliant old man scanned the paper, Hermione felt oddly nervous, as if she was about to receive a test grade that she was almost, almost positive she had aced, but she wasn't quite sure. After a few agonizing moments, Dumbledore looked up.
"This is good. But let's talk out the knots, shall we? There are a few rough points," He said, not unkindly.
"Yes, of course," said Hermione, a bit nervously. Dumbledore smiled reassuringly and sat down in the chair directly across from her.
"Now, let's start with the biggest part—having you accompanying Mr. Malfoy on his little trip," Dumbledore twinkled. "I can see you're favorable to the idea, and I can see how it would he helpful, but do you understand the consequences of this?"
"Yes," Hermione sighed. "I know that I'll have to hang around some simply awful people. And I know it is a bit intrusive, but—"
"Are you also aware that if you do decide to do this, you will relive Malfoy's memories? And that, as a son of a Death Eater, they may not be quite so pleasant?" Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes not leaving her brown ones.
Hermione gulped. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to see what Malfoy saw. She rethought the pros and cons of the situation, rationalizing as only she could do. After a few minutes, she spoke.
"I understand, but I wish to go," Dumbledore nodded, haltingly, and for a split second Hermione thought she saw pain, tiredness, oldness behind those vivid blue eyes. The moment passed and she resumed talking. "Speaking of memories, should Malfoy actually relive my modified memories? Or just have a brief flashing of it?"
"I believe it may be best if he relives them—but very, very quickly. It will be as if he is growing up, but in only a matter of minutes. I know an efficient way to include this,"
"That sounds fine. There are several problems that I don't quite know how to solve, though. One is that I just know that Malfoy will be rude and bitter and sly and whatnot towards the Gryffindors—which they won't understand at all," she said, pensively.
"Ah, yes—I, too, have thought of that. I have come to the conclusion that we should put impulses on both of you," Dumbledore told her.
"Impulses?" Hermione asked. Dumbledore only nodded. "What do you mean, Professor?"
"It means, Ms. Granger, that if Malfoy saw Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley in the hall, he would subconsciously smile, wave and greet them, just as you would. He probably could fight them, and he's certainly himself, but he probably won't land himself in too much trouble before he thinks things over with the impulses in place,"
"Ah, I see how that would be useful..."Hermione said thoughtfully. "How do we get back?"
"We should create a counter-potion that you can mix and drink ahead of time for whenever you and Mr. Malfoy are ready to come home," Dumbledore said.
"Oh! How will I know when Draco's ready to come back?" Hermione said, hoping desperately that he had the answer.
"Hmm...Well, I don't believe that you will know straight away. Most likely he will seem a bit different, or maybe have a strange outburst, or something. But in the case this does not occur, I will give you access to a small cupboard located behind the portrait of Wilmer the Willful. The password is 'Cryptic.' Inside, you will find several small bottles of a white-blue liquid. This is a form of Veritaserum, called Cluveriserm. I trust you know what it does?"
"Yes, professor. Cluveriserm acts like Veritaserum, but afterwards the person will not remember the questioning," Hermione said. Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Oh—one more thing..." Hermione trailed off. She very deliberately concentrated on the lushly carpeted floor.
"Yes, Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore inquired. His eyes were twinkling again.
"Anything—anything I do...there... how will it affect the real me? Like...er...say I was hit and bruised there. Would I come back bruised?" She asked, still looking down. I'm not about to ask him straight out if having sex in that world will...Well, if I come back, am I a virgin or not??
"Oh, I see," Dumbledore said, trying not to smile. Ah, the youth of the young! "No, it will not affect you physically. However, anything you learn there, such as, oh, ballroom dancing, will stay with you. Quite handy, actually,"
"Er, yes, I suppose," stammered Hermione, flushing pinkly. She tried hard to concentrate on what she wanted to ask Dumbledore...she knew there was something, but what was it?
"Was there anything else, Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore asked politely, smiling at the girl. Hermione tried to pull herself together. Oh, I do hate being embarrassed!
"No, I think that'—wait, no, one more thing. If I am to be playing the role of Hermione Malfoy, pureblood and semi-Death Eater, should I act evil only? Or should I have a bit of my own personality?" Hermione eagerly leaned forward. She needed a bit more background information on this role, after all.
"Well, Ms Granger, I had been thinking..."
ooooooooo
Draco cursed and mentally kicked himself. He had gotten himself into quite the little jam. I suppose it's a kind of natural talent, he mused. I mean, most people wouldn't be bloody thick enough to—Draco was abruptly roused from his pondering by the painful feeling of a thick fist colliding with his stomach. Winded, he choked. Bloody, bloody stupid, he thought miserably. He just had to insult Squibs directly to a bajillion foot tall, kajillion ton, giant of a Squib. He was trying to make friends, honestly!
Okay, and maybe also he was trying to check out the magically challenged thug's girlfriend. But that was beside the point.
Draco made no move to fight back. Draco was tall, yes, a good 5'10ish, and he was in shape, with whipcord muscles that made him alarmingly strong for his slender, lean frame. The fact remained, however, that the huge being in front of him could crush him like an ant. Magic, too, was out, as he was still bloody underage and as his dad technically should have been in Azkaban, he had to avoid the Ministry as best he could.
How did a great ugly brute of a fella like that land a babe that hot? He wondered.
Unfortunately, he thought this out loud, causing the giants fist to crash perilously near his perfect, aquiline nose.
Which it didn't, thank god.
Thank god, yes, and Severus Snape, who Impedimenta'd him as quickly as he could. Draco twitched his nose awkwardly and it brushed against the frozen –man's? beast's?—knuckles. Clearing his throat and moving gracefully away from the Squib, he winked at the babe, who glared halfheartedly at him.
"Uncle Sev! Back to save the day once again, I see," Draco said to Severus, who scowled.
"Don't call me that in public. What the bloody hell were you playing at, boy?" he growled. Clearly, he was in a bad mood.
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Sev. I didn't know he was a Squib. What in bloody hell is a Squib doing in Hogsmeade, anyway? I swear, they're just as bad as mudbloo—" He was cut off by Severus' glare, which was a poisonous as some of the potions he brewed.
"Why do you care about Mudbloods?" asked Draco, a fine sliver eyebrow arched.
"I don—" Severus began, but Draco cut him off by raising a hand to hover annoyingly in his face.
"Yes, you do. You bit my head off last time I said it, too. It's getting bloody annoying, Sev,"
"Don't curse," Severus said sharply, "And, well, there's no reason."
"Ah, but there is, I can tell...but what could melt the hard of a cold old bastard like you? Not much, I reckon...perhaps a pretty woman?" Severus blushed and winced. "Yes, I see that's it. Who is it, Uncle Sev?' Draco leaned forward eagerly. He loved butting into other people's lives.
"I'm not even really your uncle," muttered Severus, red.
Just as Draco opened his sensual mouth to reply, a group of talkative, pretty young women walked into the pub.
"Oh god, Sev! You've gotta hide me!" Draco hissed, eyes wide.
"Why?"
"No time to get into details, but lets just say I had a bit of a—fling with one," Draco replied hastily.
"In other words, you fucked her and forgot her name," Severus said crudely. Draco looked at him in distaste.
"Don't use that word, it doesn't suit you. I think my ears may be scarred now," Draco began, annoyed, but one of the girls spotted him and began talking excitedly to her friends and—horror of horrors, giggling.
You'd think at seventeen they would have grown out of that. The only girl I've never heard giggle is—Granger. But she doesn't even count as a girl.
The girl, who was pretty with pale, pale skin and dark hair and eyes, hurried over to Draco.
"Hii, Draco," she cooed, eyelashes fluttering. Draco smirked in reply. One of her friends tittered.
"Ooh, Alexia, he's soo—" the tittering friend began, but was hushed by the pretty girl, who Draco assumed to be Alexia. He looked at her mischievously.
"Hello, ladies," he said in his famous drawl. One girl almost swooned.
"Oh, Draco, come and sit with us," she said, shooting Severus a look of distaste. He growled softly. Draco looked at him in disapproval, then slid his eyes back to Alexia, who was waiting there expectantly.
"Actually, sorry, but I have to go, now, come on Sev," he said quickly, as Severus kicked him under the table.
As they walked out the door, Draco quietly asked, "What the hell was that all about?"
"Bloody girls," Severus muttered. Draco laughed.
"Sev, you old codger, you need to live a bit. Girls aren't so bad, really, once you seduce them and they stop bloody tittering like bloody canaries—"
"Shut UP," Severus hissed, looking very uncomfortable. He was fairly female-a-phobic, Draco noted. File that piece of information away for later.
"Really, mate, you need to loosen up, maybe hire a few strippers..." Draco could have continued but the horrified look on his uncle's face prevent him from speaking, he was laughing so hard. "Oh, yes, I forgot, your Mudblood dame, of course,"
Severus turned to him and sent him a piercing glare. Draco met his gaze squarely.
"Don't," Severus breathed, "ever use that term again." His tone was deadly serious. The two looked each other in the eye for a good minute, assessing, dangerous. Finally Draco gave a curt nod. At least not in you're hearing, dear uncle Sev, he thought maliciously.
ooooooooooooo
A week later
Hermione jumped and winced as a scalding hot droplet of potion hit her arm. Too hot, she noted, and lowered the flame accordingly. She then dropped in her carefully measured beaker of moonjuice. The potion hissed and change abruptly into a vivid crimson. She stirred it, three times, counterclockwise, then stepped back. It needed to simmer for 23 ½ minutes. She sat down with an "Oomph!" and settled herself. She was just about to reach for her book when she suddenly heard a coughing from behind her. She turned in her chair, expecting Dumbledore, but oddly enough it was Professor Snape.
"Good evening, Professor," she said. He nodded in reply, and silently moved over to the cauldron. He inspected it closely, smelled it, felt the sides of the cauldron. Then, he nodded.
"This is good. The Soernon Pariesn draft, is it?" He asked. Hermione could see he was fighting to be civil. She appreciated the effort. Wonder what happened to himshe thought idly.
"Yes, it is. It was the only switching potion that allowed custom designs," she said. He nodded and the two were silent for a time. Suddenly, he spoke.
"Be...gentle with Draco. He has a good heart, deep down," he said to her, carefully. Although at first Hermione hadn't wanted to tell Snape of her—the order's—plan. Finally she had relented. Now, she supposed, it was a fairly good thing.
"I'll do my best, sir," she said quietly. Not looking at her, he nodded.
"Draco needs be saved, Ms. Granger. He could be vital to our side's victory—or it's downfall. I can only hope that his—his soul," here he grimaced as though he found this kind of talk distasteful, "can be saved."
With that, he swept quickly out of the dungeon room she was currently occupying.
That was weird, she thought. That was very, very weird. Who knew Snape had a heart?
She shrugged and settled down for the—she checked her watch—16¼ minutes remaining until she could add the next few ingredients to her potion.
She flipped through the pages of her book restlessly. She was really not in the mood for this kind of tome—she preferred textbooks to be read in the early morning, and it was about six now...
Drumming her fingers on the table, she thought about Malfoy. He doesn't seem nice to me, but then again, I suppose that since I'm a 'Mudblood' I'm not his equal. I wonder how he acts around those he considers his equals? I can't really see him being sweet, or sucking up...well, it's clear I'm not going to find out anytime soon. I have yet to see him find an equal.
Frowning, she checked her watch. Twenty seconds. She quickly grabbed her flask of moonjuice.
Ten seconds.
Five seconds.
Three seconds, two seconds, one second.
She poured the contents of the flask into the cauldron. Then, with a loud 'BANG!,' it did something strange.
Hovering out of the potion, which had turned a navy blue color, was a small orb the size of Hermione's doubled fist. It was blue, green and white, swirled, and Hermione realized after a moment or two that it was a miniature, spinning version of the earth.
"Ah, I see we have moved to the next stage," came the soothing voice of Albus Dumbledore behind her.
Yes, I suppose we have, Hermione thought, rather faintly.
