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 : Soooooooooooo sorry for the long wait. Stuff has been happening, though. I've had some crazy family things going on, what with this relative dying and that one in the hospital and so forth. But everything's alright now! I don't think this is one of my better chapters, but I just wanted to update. Thanks and enjoy!
Hermione hurried back to the Head's room, the crystal vial with whitely blue contents clutched tightly in her hand.
She entered the room and Draco looked up again. His eyes widened when he saw what was in her hand.
"What—" He began, but stopped when she advanced toward him. "No. Oh, no. You can't do this!"
"I can," she said softly. "I can. And that's just what I'm doing."
Draco had risen and his eyes darted to the door, trying to scope out possible escapes. But Hermione had other plans. She was not interested in trying to physically catch him. She raised her wand, thanking the Gods that Draco's was left forgotten by the table, and muttered, "Petrificus Totalus."
Immediately he was pressed together in a board-like way. The full body bind was quite uncomfortable, though not inherently painful. Hermione drew near and with some whispered spell he did not quite catch, his mouth opened.
Hermione carefully removed the stopper from the bottle. Carefully, very carefully, she allowed three drops to leave the thin neck of the vial and splash into Draco's open mouth. She whispered the counter curse and Draco's mobility returned.
He was too caught up in the effects of the potion to notice. The world seemed hazy, swirling ominously about him. Colors seemed too vivid, too sharp, and he could feel each thump his heart made.
Beat.
Hermione asked him something but he couldn't hear what. Oddly, he seemed to reply anyway.
"I briefly suspected that maybe she came here the same way as I—but dismissed it."
Beat.
Another question.
"My father wants me to become a death eater. It's easier to obey than to fight. Plus, the other side would never welcome me. I do not 'choose.'"
Beat.
Another.
"More than anything. I don't want to die."
Beat.
"Mudbloods are witches and wizards, and can be just as powerful. Granger—Hermione—proved that to me since first year. But I still don't think it's fair that they get the same—or better—treatment than us purebloods. They should work for us, not vice versa."
Beat.
"No. No, I do not love my father."
Beat.
"The Light side seems too naïve to win. The Dark side seems too dim to win. I have no predictions."
Beat.
"Harry Potter is lucky. Lucky, and he doesn't even know it. Parents are chains. Adoration isn't usually free. Plus, he's got half the witches in the world pining after him."
Beat.
Now the blood rushed to his head and he seemed to be physically reacting to the question she had just asked but he felt no movement and he couldn't, just couldn't, understand what she was saying. But his traitorous lips formed the words.
"She's pretty. I don't like her fucking Blaise, but I don't understand why. She has good friends and is too powerful for her own good. I can't get her out of my head and I don't think I even want to and I think I might semi-like her personality. But that's wrong. She's wrong. She's a Mudblood. She's a know it all. She's everything I've hated my entire life. She's a Mudblood. That should be that. I'm not supposed to think of her—not like that."
And then he heard her mutter a spell, and the world went black for one harsh second and he was left with just the pulse of his blood and the hammering of his heart.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
And then he opened his eyes, only to blink.
"Malfoy," he said curtly, acknowledging her presence. "How the bloody hell did I get here?" he asked aloud as he noticed he was slumped over by the mantle of the fireplace.
Hermione smiled and something, for a split second, felt very wrong. And yet—at the same time, it felt perfectly—normal.
ooooooooooo
Draco knew something was wrong. You didn't have to be a genius to figure it out.
And it had to do with her. He was sure of it.
You just didn't black out on fireplaces with no recollection of it later, damnit!
Well, he didn't, at any rate. And by what he knew of Granger, she wasn't the type to do that, either.
As he was mulling it over with his daily toast and a scone breakfast, he was clueless. He really, really didn't like the feeling.
"Hey," Ginny's voice startled him out of his reverie.
"Oh," he smiled slightly. "Hey, Gin."
This time last year, you'd be jumping at this opportunity, insanely grateful that she returns your affection, however slight. What changed?
Granger's thoughts reverberated through his skull. Damnit, what did all of this mean? He heartily wished he had someone to mull it over with. Someone, anyone, anyone who would understand.
"You're spacey today," Ginny observed. He turned to her in surprise, and smiled.
"Sorry about that. I was just thinking about something."
"You shouldn't think so much. You get so worried about everything, Draco. And you hardly ever visit us back in Gryffindor Tower," Ginny said with a pleading look in her eyes. He felt a small knot of guilt settle in his chest.
"I'm sorry, Gin," he said sincerely. It was almost sickening, but really … it wouldn't be too bad to have that kind of friend, would it?
What was he thinking? He shook his head.
"What is it?" Ginny asked, brow furrowed.
"Oh! Nothing, just planning out my homework so that I can come up to the Tower soon," he lied glibly. He hadn't known it was in Granger!
Okay, so maybe he did. But still!
"Okay," she said warily. "You promise?"
"Yeah," he smiled. All this smiling kind of made his cheeks hurt. He wasn't sure how Granger could stand it, day in and day out.
Ginny smiled back at him, though more softly. She reached a hand over to him and gently stroked his cheek. He shuddered imperceptibly under her cool-fingered touch.
"Draco," she said. "Draco, you've been kind of worrying all of us. You're so … tense lately. What is it? Is it the war?" she asked.
Draco frowned slightly. He wasn't acting odd, was he?
I'm acting perfectly normal. It's Ginny who's acting up…
And then—oh, God, he was slow—it made sense.
Ginny liked him. Granger, anyway. Liked him more than he had thought she had. Liked him enough to make the first move…
Who did Ginny figure into in the real world? Was she Harry? Ron? Someone completely different?
Whoever it was, it became clear that Hermione didn't feel the same way about him. Or, rather, she once did, maybe. But now—no longer.
Draco stood abruptly, Ginny's hand dropping fast. "I'd better get to the library," he said, giving her a slightly sideways smile.
"But—Breakfast is nearly over!" she called after him. His body did not slow at her words.
Somehow, he felt a bit relieved by that.
Now, if only he could figure out that damn fireplace blackout…
ooooooooooooo
Hermione was not in a good mood.
She hadn't managed to change Draco around yet. Not completely, anyway, but at least there were signs that she was getting to him. She had kind of hoped that she had made better progress, though. She really wanted to get back home.
This life was just not suited for her. For example, all through the first class of the day and breakfast, Blaise had been scowling at her when he thought she wasn't looking. The rest of the time, he just looked at her coolly and dispassionately. He wouldn't speak to her, either.
Hermione felt horribly guilty. She realized it was the easiest thing to do, but it still felt wrong. She just wanted to give Blaise a hug and tell him that she was sorry.
But that wasn't the way things worked in Slytherin.
At breakfast, Hermione had realized she hadn't done a crucial piece of Transfiguration homework and had little time to eat as she worked. Leila Zabini had gazed at her complacently out of the corner of her eye, which didn't bode well for Hermione.
In Potions, the first class of the day, Hermione had been paired up with Pansy, who had tried to slip cockroaches into the potion and make it explode, attempted to shove Hermione out of her chair, added newt's eye to the potion unintentionally and when it exploded all over her, missing Hermione by an inch, had sullenly set fire to Hermione's notes.
No, Hermione wasn't in a good mood.
Classes breezed by in a whirl of homework, misconstrued spells, and badly aimed hexes from Pansy. By the time classes ended, Hermione was quite put out and not in the mood for homework in the least.
Luckily, she had other things to occupy her mind, as she walked into her room and noticed something amiss.
It wasn't messily rearranged. In fact, an unobservant person would think it had looked exactly the same as the morning before. But Hermione was not unobservant. Oh, there were no huge changes, no strewn clothes or broken vases or anything like that.
But she knew someone had been searching, by the looks of the little things. Such as the slightly crooked mirror, or the misalignment of the books in their shelves. Such as the distinctly masculine scent that floated through the air, that reminded her faintly of …someone…
She couldn't find anything missing, not at the first glimpse. But was that the slight, slight trace of a fingerprint on her father's latest letter? Perhaps. It made sense, after all. He had always been a suspect. He wasn't supposed to be writing to her at all.
She had her suspicions. She didn't dare speak them aloud, not yet. But she had her suspicions, and one day they would be proved.
Now, however, was her turn to patrol the corridors.
And luckily, she had patrol with a rather cute Ravenclaw prefect. It would be the perfect final touches to making Blaise see that she truly was not interested to have him come back to her room with him…
Oh, okay. So it was fun for her, too.
And it couldn't be too bad if business mingles with pleasure, could it?
Well, it didn't matter. It would, either way.
Hermione smiled to herself. While this lifestyle was not really suited to her…she did enjoy certain parts of it.
ooooooooooo
Draco opened the portrait hole and climbed into Gryffindor Tower.
As he unfolded his frame from the opening, he noticed that Harry and Ron were not sitting at their usual table.
He frowned and looked around.
They weren't anywhere.
He waved at Neville, smiled at Dean and Seamus, nodded approvingly at a studying bunch of second years and was about to ask Parvati where Harry and Ron were, when Ginny showed up.
Ginny walked into the common room, oddly enough, from the staircase that led to the boy's dorms. She looked slightly worn but cheered up slightly at the sight of Draco. She smiled genuinely enough at him, if tiredly.
"What's up, Gin?" He asked her concernedly.
"Oh, well, just stuff. It's a good thing you're here, Harry had just asked me to look for you," she told him.
"Oh." Draco was unsure what this all meant. Ginny didn't look too worried, though, so it couldn't be too serious. "Should I go up, then?"
At Ginny's nod, he started off towards the dormitory that his Granger-self had lived in for six years. It was slightly warmer than the Slytherin dormitories, although whether it was because of the gold and scarlet coloring, or the non-dungeon state of it, he wasn't sure.
Harry and Ron were perched upon Harry's four post bed, whispering excitedly. Ron's race was very red with excitement, or something of the sort, and Harry's eyes were twinkling.
"There you are, mate," Ron called to him.
Draco smiled slightly. "What's all this about?"
"Oh, nothing much," Harry shrugged. "Except that—Dumbledore's granted Ron, you and me permission to go to an official, non-censored Order meeting! Don't tell Ginny, though, she's not allowed. This is going to be brilliant!"
The Granger part of him apparently was very excited about this. The Draco side, however, was less than thrilled. He knew what the Order was, of course—he was the son of a death eater, after all—but he wasn't really a part of it.
And, well, it felt a little to him like spying. And that wasn't fair, was it?
Damn!
When had he started caring whether things were fair, or not?
Hope it wasn't too bad. Review, please?
