Draco woke up the next morning still happy and completely refreshed. He stretched in the robes that he had slept in, extending his fingers to touch the velvet curtains around his bed before crawling out of the cool sheets. As he walked to the bathroom, he strummed his fingers across the strings of his guitar still lyingat the end of the bed and smiled with satisfaction at how it sounded - perfectly in tune. Draco went straight to the bathtub and started his water, grabbing his shampoo and body soap that still lay in his bag; he had been too distraught yesterday to unpack himself. Draco started taking off his clothes when he glanced at his reflection.
Draco started screaming.
"It's never going to go away!" Draco wailed in Dumbledore's office, trying really hard not to break into little pieces in front of them. Normally, he did not cry. But this was just too much. He was a GIRL, when he was just a BOY, but now he was a GIRL and not a BOY and dear Merlin-
"Get a hold of yourself," Snape snapped at him.
"I can't-" Draco sniffled. "These stupid girl emotions are slobbering all over me."
"That would be your pathetic whimpering," Snape grumbled, rolling his eyes. Draco couldn't even think of a reply to that one and started wiping at his cheeks.
"It appears to me, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said charmingly, holding a plate of lemon drops in front of Draco's face, "that you are a girl during the day, and then a boy when the sun goes down."
Draco sniffed then politely took one, putting it in his mouth. He immediately began to feel better. "What am I going to do?" hemumbled around the lemon drop, wiping at his crusty eyes. Damnit, he hated crying. "I can't go to class like this."
"No, I don't think so either," theHeadmaster said, shaking his head. "At least, not as yourself."
"What do you mean?" Draco asked warily, looking up.
"Well, you have two options, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, turning to lean back on his desk and putting the lemon drops down. "You can wait in your room until a cure is found for your condition. We don't know how long this will take, but I'm willing to bet that you'll be stuck this way for a while. Thus, you'll have to start your seventh year over again because you will have missed too much class. Or-"
Draco didn't even like the first option. He KNEW he wasn't going to like the second.
"You can go to class under another alias as a transfer student," Dumbledore said. "We'll say you, as Draco, are taking private lessons, while you, the Girl, continue on with your schedule as usual."
Draco stared at the Headmaster.
"I believe this is the most reasonable answer, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said seriously. "You'll never catch up with your classes if you do not attend them properly."
"I...I-"
"Good, it's settled then. You'll need some clothes, I'm afraid, so we must let a female student know of your current arrangement and see if she will lend you something."
"But I-"
"Professor Snape, who do you suggest?"
"NOT a Slytherin!" Draco blurt out quickly. The two teachers stared at him questioningly. "If they know, everyone will find out...including my father."
"You do not want to tell your parents?" Dumbledore asked, his old eyes wide. Draco shook his head firmly. "Why not?"
"Oh, that would be a charming conversation," Draco spat out sarcastically. "Daddy, I'm a girl now, but I'll always be your little boy. Please still love me."
Dumbledore and Snape blinked stupidly.
"He'll kill me!" Draco blew up, waving his hands dramatically. "I'm serious, he will kill me! I'm no use to him for the war if I'm a petty girl-" Draco clamped his jaw shut when he saw Dumbledore's hard eyes.
"I see," the Headmaster said.
"Dumbledore, I believe I know the perfect lady for Draco," Snape stepped in. "Nobody would believe her if she told anyway."
"Who do you suggest?" Dumbledore asked, looking tired.
"Luna Lovegood," Snape answered.
"I guess this makes you a Ravenclaw now," the girl said behind him, putting on her ridiculous Butterbeer cap earrings. Draco scowled at his girly figure and tugged his skirt lower - why the hell did girls have to wear skirts? They are in the twentieth century!
"Blue doesn't really fit you," the girl remarked from her bed.
"I didn't ask for your opinion," Draco snapped back, fixing his bra. And if he was stuck being a girl, why didn't he have bigger boobs? These things were just pathetic. What were they called? A-cups? More like soddin' Let's Forget The Cups Because You Don't Need Them.
Luna shrugged her scrawny shoulders that had to contain more bone than actual flesh.
"Well, I guess it doesn't matter what color you wear. You're a transfer student and you don't belong to a house, so..."
Draco played with a long strand of hair as he thought about that. Heck, he could wear Gryffindor colors now if he wanted to. Catching himself curling his hair around his finger, Draco grunted and threw it behind his shoulder.
"Look, do you-" Draco started.
"Do you want something to pull that back?" Luna broke in, getting up from her bed. Draco snapped his jaw closed. How did she know he was going to ask that?
"Here, I'll do it for you," Luna said helpfully, gesturing towards the chair. Draco sat cautiously as he tried to remind himself to keep his legs closed and Luna stepped in behind him, taking up a chunk of his long hair.
"Make it tight," Draco whispered, staring disgustedly at his reflection. Luna shook her head, but said nothing and started doing as he asked.
"So, what are you going to call yourself?" Luna asked, brushing some of the tangles free.
"Dumbledore decided that Davina would…" Luna pulled sharply at his hair and Draco had to take a moment to recall himself when the pain distracted him. "Uh, would symbol that I'm still me without setting everyone off about who I am."
Draco's eyes were watering by the time Luna was done pulling back his hair in a tight, prim ponytail. Luna eyed him a moment before putting the brush aside with a sigh.
"You can't really do that with hair so long and thick as yours," Luna said. "You'll probably pull it out by mid-day to save yourself the pain."
"I will not," Draco said immediately, grabbing his wand. As if to prove his point and resolve, Draco flicked his wand and his skirt turned green.
Luna was right, of course. By the time his third class came around, his head was screaming. He really felt bad for girls who had to deal with this all the time. Before Potions, Draco dashed into the bathroom to let his hair out. Even now, he was still surprised to see to himself. Even though he looked completely different, he was waiting for someone to recognize him. He was so nervous this morning that he had rejected Luna's invitation to breakfast, the only student that knew who he really was, and flew down the staircases to Flitwick's class. Thus, he had missed the pleasant announcement about his 'arrival' that Dumbledore made to the entire school and the curious heads that turned left and right to catch the new girl. It was for this reason that he was surprised when students filed into class that no one asked about him. Er, her. He could only assume that pulling back his hair had worked and people didn't notice a new Slytherin girl sitting in the mass of bodies.
He completely missed the stares that were burning into the back of his neck.
Nor did he notice the whispers.
"She's kind of pretty," a boy whispered to his friend, staring at the smooth skin of the girl's neck. "Her hair is drawn back so tight, though, that it's making her eyes squint."
"Probably a prude," the other whispered and the group of boys mumbled in agreement, before going back to their Charms homework.
Sighing gratefully, Draco started to tear out the band holding his hair together...but it literally began to tear his hair out with it.
"OW!" Draco cursed as a toilet flushed. "Son of a mother's dog!"
"You all right?" someone asked as shecame out of the stall behind him. Draco glanced at her inthe mirrors and immediately stiffened. It was Hermione Granger.
"Do you need help with that?" Granger asked, coming to the sink to wash her hands.
"Of course not," Draco snapped back, started tugging again, and winced.
"Here," Granger said and brushed away his hands. Draco was pleased to see that HIS hands were much prettier and free from ink stains. She started tugging lightly at his hair and realized that after playing with the thing all morning, his wavy strands had gotten tangled and knotted. After a few tries, Granger loosened it and slipped the band from his long locks.
"There," she said, handing it back to him and starting to leave.
"Um, thank you," Draco said quickly, snapping the hair bandana on his wrist. Hermione stopped to look back at him and smiled...waiting. Draco groaned inwardly. Fluffing his thick hair and putting some lift back onto the top of his skull, Draco reluctantly followed the Mudblood back into the halls.
"I have Potions next," Hermione offered uncertainly, smiling. Draco bit his tongue from sighing.
"So do I," he admitted, holding onto his books with one hand and sneaking another hand behind him to tug roughly on the ends of his hair.
"You're the new girl, right? Davina?" Hermione asked. "Would you like to sit with me?"
"Um..." Draco didn't know what to say. First, Hermione knew who he was. Second, sitting with her would mean probably sitting with the Weasel (dear Merlin NO) and Potter (sob). But then Draco thought of his options. He could either sit with the slobbering heroes that would protect him or sit with the Slytherins who would only be so willing to help him "catch-up" in Advanced Potions with "late-night sessions" and…Yes, yes Draco would rather sit with the Trio and endure the Triangle love fest then his housemates. Sighing, he nodded curtly and they walked down the hall in silence, their steps quick so they weren't late for class. They just barely made it through the door before Snape and his flowing dark cloak. When the Potions Master slammed the door shut behind the two girls, everyone turned around to look...and gawked.
Harry was having a rough beginning of school. First, he was nearly pummeled to death by Goyle and Crabbe when they forced themselves into his train compartment, demanding to know what he had done to Draco. Then he had gotten into a fight with Hermione AGAIN after dinner, something that didn't even bear repeating because it was so stupid, and now Cidy, his current girlfriend, was fighting with him as well. Apparently, he hadn't owled her enough during the summer. He TOLD her how his relatives were - why couldn't she understand that? Or at least REMEMBER? He was pretty sure they were going to break up soon. Harry hadn't figured out if he was happy or sad about that yet.
At least he had managed to patch things up between him and Hermione this morning.
He was beginning to wonder where she was when he heard the door slam. He turned around in his seat to offer a small smile, but it faltered in midway. Instead, he was looking like everyone else at the girl standing behind Hermione, staring wide-eyed back. She looked like she had just walked into a room of naked people and hadn't decided if she should run from the room yet or pretend she was invisible. Harry knew this must be the new transfer student. Devia? Dona? Diva? Damnit, Harry couldn't remember. She was absolutely...breathtaking and Harry's cheeks flushed as soon as the thought entered his mind. He never really thought a girl was breathtaking before; pretty, yes, beautiful, absolutely. But...Harry found himself tongue-tied and he wasn't even near her. Her long hair was really what did it; it fell around her in white-blond waves, and instead of making her skin look pale, it made her iridescent. She had dark blue-gray eyes thick with black eyelashes and lips that were cherry-red. Harry had never seen such thick, red-pink lips in his life. He was staring so hard at them that he was startled when the girl licked her bottom lip nervously.
"Over here," Hermione said, glaring at everyone who stared. She grabbed the girl by the wrist before she could bolt (Harry watched her feet begin to twist toward the dungeon door) and dragged her to their table. His table. Oh, God, his table.
CidyCidyCidyCidyCidyCidy.
"Oh man," Ron groaned next to him, shifting loudly in his chair as he turned away. "I know I'm not going to get any work done today."
CIDYCIDYCIDYCIDYCIDYCIDYCIDY.
"Ron Weasley and Harry Potter," Hermione introduced politely. The girl didn't even nod in acknowledgementInstead she was eyeing some Slytherins in the back who looked like they were about to leap out of their chairs, grab her, and drag her into the herb closet to have their wicked way with her.
Oh, hell. Cidy would understand if he had to protect the girl from being mobbed, wouldn't she? She looked absolutely terrified and the color had completely drained from her cheeks.
"Here," Harry said, standing up and offering his chair. "You can-"
Hermione easily slipped into the chair next to Ron. Harry blinked at her.
"Or not," he finished. The girl licked her bottom lip again, sighed, and took the table behind Ron and Hermione. Harry maneuvered himself to sit beside her, feeling stupid.
"Um, I don't know your name-" Harry started, his words choking up in his throat.
"Davina," the girl said curtly, whipping out her parchment and Potionsbook with a furious intensity. Harry watched her dumbly for a minute before doing the same. Snape started talking then and even if Harry could find a moment to talk to...Davina, he found himself at a lost for words. He could only stare at her for the entire class period.
When the bell rang, Davina sprang up from her seat like a jackrabbit and grabbed her things quickly. Harry tried to be just as fast, but in the end she just bundled everything she had in her arms and nearly ran for the door.
"Hey, Davina-" he called, his voice suddenly peeking its cowardly head up.
"Not interested!" She screamed back. The room was still full of students at that point and those who were just getting out of the door halted roughly. Davina screeched to a stop, almost running into them, and cursed loudly. Everyone was staring at Davina and Harry Potter.
"Huh?" Harry blinked, wondering if he completely missed something.
Davina looked torn, like she was debating crawling over everyone's head to get out of the room or turning around to face Harry. Eventually, her heels turned and she looked at Harry for a long moment through her eyelashes. Harry didn't realize how hard those eyes were.
"You were staring at me the entire class period," she said, beginning to smirk. A few boys started chuckling as well, though they were just as guilty as Harry. "You couldn't keep your eyes off me."
"I-uh," Harry started, gripping onto his bag and books, looking dumbfounded.
"You're going to have more than a name to get my attention, Harry Potter," she said, her eyes glinting maliciously. "Maybe get plastic surgery. You aren't very attractive."
Everybody was beginning to laugh and Harry's ears were literally burning up. Why the hell was she doing this!
"Now stay away from me," she said firmly. Her eyes had now turned to public hatred. Harry was slightly taken aback. Why did she hate me? He hadn't even said anything to her! Harry's temper was beginning to climb. Before he could yell at her, or maybe strangle her pretty neck, she was scooting out the door between the laughing bodies of Harry's schoolmates. Furious, Harry finished packing his things and ran out of the classroom, not even waiting for Hermione and Ron. He was going to catch that little snot and demand to know what her problem was.
But when he reached the hallway, he found that she was already gone.
Draco was all smiles for the rest of the week. He had humiliated Harry Potter, in front of everyone! A girl had rejected that idiot in front of EVERYONE. Draco was so pleased with himself that he didn't even mind his problem for a couple of hours. It had gotten him what he'dalways wanted; to make Harry Potter the fool. And people were so attracted by Draco's appearance that he could burst out laughing in the middle of class and everyone would follow even if they didn't know the joke. He could faint in the middle of the hallway and people would hold him up over their heads and carry her - er HIM - along like some God. Beauty had its quirks.
It also had its annoyances. By the time the day ended, Draco was ready to scream at everyone. He was tired of guys leaving open seats next to them, staring at him all the time, and he was sick of the girls' jealous whispers. Sure, it was nice for everyone to fall all over him when he walked into the room. But he didn't WANT this. He didn't want people to notice him because he had hips, long hair, and breasts...well, maybe not the breasts, but that was enough. Why didn't he get this kind of attention when he was a guy? Oh, and the jealously didn't exist either. Now, in just one week, his name was already on the bathroom stalls about being a bitch and he always had to make sure he wasn't sitting in front of a girl, because they would gleefully dip his hair in their inkbottles. Childish tactics and all because of attention he did not desire after five minutes. He was getting snippy with the admirers now once he found out ignoring them failed to work. When he was guy, he didn't have a problem telling people to fuck off. When he was girl, he had to tell them ten times for them to get it through their thick skulls. He was about ready to acquire claws and just simply rip people to shreds if they came near him.
So, by the time the day ended every night, Draco was ready for some release. He would excuse himself from Luna's side at dinner, fly up the stairs to his secret room, and get his guitar. He usually waited until sunset before he began playing, but he couldn't wait. He paced back and forth in his room, waiting for the bloody sun to set, but he was so tied up inside that he was about ready to burst all over the room. He strapped the guitar around his body, pulledhis hair free, and ran his fine nails over the chords. Utter bliss immediately came and Draco sighed, closing his eyes. He never tried singing with his new voice and with his new body. He was afraid that his voice sucked even more that it had before or...that it was actually pretty good.
Draco played the introduction to his new song, licking his lips as he thought of the words. Even if his body was different, he was still the same person. He was still happy when he played, he still loved to write down lyrics, and he still loved to sing. Sometimes, he ached to just sing, because it was the only thing that made him drift away from the annoying chatter in his ear and the slight caress on his arm or leg.
Draco drummed harder on the instrument, closing his eyes, and swaying.
"This is where I start to bite my nails."
Draco rocked harder, scraping against the strings of his guitar, until it was just pure rock with no real rhythm or attention; just mindless drumming and finger hopping. The lyrics were going on his head, but he couldn't move his lips to sound them. Instead he flew across the room, his arm tight and straining, and jumped on the bed, and threw himself off it. He kept running and playing, throwing himself on anything he could ricochet off. Chairs tipped over, his nightstand and center table were knocked to their sides, and pillows flew across the room. He was rocking like a guy, the only way he knew how to; girls didn't fall to their knees, sway their heads back and forth, and jamGirls didn't throw themselves around; they were too afraid of being hurt. Girls didn't throw themselves at walls, pull themselves away from gravity, and run to the other side of the room.
But. They should.
His arm was getting tired, but he kept going on until it was too painful. He ripped the pick away from the strings and panted in the center of the chaos, staring at his ruined room with wide eyes.
Somebody began clapping.
Draco jerked his head around in surprise and was relieved to see only Luna standing by the doors. She was smiling, and she sidestepped the chaos as she drifted further into the room.
"Didn't know you liked to play, Draco," she said, flicking back his short hair. The sun had fallen during his mad rage on the room and he had transformed without noticing.
"Not many do," he replied.
"You were wild," Luna said seriously, staring at his eyes with a deep concentration.
"The evidence lies around your feet," Draco said, looking away to stare at his destroyed room. He didn't want to clean this up.
"You were beautiful," she said. Draco snorted with disgust and unbuckled the guitar from around his neck.
"Beautiful," Draco snarled at the room. "Yes, I know." He tossed the instrument on his wrinkled sheets, sprawled from bouncing on the springs.
"Being beautiful is the most uncomfortable thing in the world," Luna said, nodding her head as she looked at the damage. She started lifting a table back onto its legs.
"Tell me about it," Draco sighed, helping her.
"I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow morning," Luna said. "Get you some proper clothes. Weekend and stuff."
"There…There isn't a clothing store in Hogsmeade," Draco argued, putting a pillow back on a chair.
"Yes there is," she replied, picking up some broken glass. "A second-hand store-"
"I'm NOT going to some second-hand store," Draco snapped immediately. Luna looked up from her task, slowly, not even fazed by his raised voice. "Malfoys always have brand new clothes sewn especially for-"
"Ah," Luna said, smiling. "But you aren't a Malfoy, are you?"
"Inside, I am-"
"No, Draco," Luna said, handing him the glass which he mindlessly took. "You are Davina and Davina can do and be whoever she wants. She doesn't have Death Eater parents. She doesn't have Malfoy codes to look up to or she doesn't have to be someone she isn't. She can sing and play if she wants to."
"But-"
Luna started walking for the door. "I'll see you in the morning, Davina." And closed the door behind her.
Draco stood there for a moment, staring at the broken glass in his hands before jerking his head up toward the door.
"Aren't you going to help me clean up?"
