A Change'll Do You Good

"Draco, darling, you'll be late for the Hogwarts Express," the woman's voice came from the bedroom. There was a rapping on the bathroom door. She stared at the face in the mirror. Okay, you can do this, Hermione, she thought. Just be mean. It can't be that hard...just be pompous and arrogant and callous... She took a deep breath and exited the bathroom.

Standing in the huge room was a beautiful woman wearing periwinkle-blue (which perfectly matched the woman's eye color) silk robes; she had golden-blond hair and a golden-tan skin. Hermione recognized the woman from the Quidditch World Cup: Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother, Sirius Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange's sister and Nymphadora Tonks's aunt. "Draco, you're not even dressed yet. Go, hurry, Dodie's laid out your clothes for you. Hurry, you don't want to be late on your first day as Head Boy," the woman sighed. "Get ready."

The woman wasn't condescending; in fact, she seemed to be in a teasing mood. Her rosy pink lips were curved with a playful smile and she placed a perfectly-manicured hand on Hermione's cheek. "My little boy's all grown up and is Head Boy...just like his father. I'm so proud of you, honey," Narcissa said, kissing Hermione's forehead. The woman left the room in a whisper of silk.

Hermione stared at the door Narcissa had exited from in shock. She had definitely not expected that from Draco's mother, the cold woman that she had glimpsed at the Quidditch World Cup was in fact a warm and loving mother. Well, Hermione could surmise as much.

Maybe Narcissa wasn't a good mother...this was just a strange day. It wasn't every day that one's only child had the best grades of any boy at Hogwarts and had been awarded the prestigious title of Head Boy. A feat that only one other Slytherin in the past fifty years had accomplished -- the last Slytherin Head Boy before Lucius Malfoy being one Tom Marvolo Riddle (who had made a name for himself later as Lord Voldemort). The honor usually befell a Ravenclaw or a Gryffindor. On occasion, a Hufflepuff got the title but that was even rarer than a Slytherin.

In fact, Hermione's parents had been so proud of her becoming Head Girl that the Doctors Granger had taken her to McDonald's. That may not seem like much to most teenagers in the world but to Hermione it was a rare treat, the health-conscious dentists hadn't taken Hermione to McDonald's since...well, ever.

Hermione came out of her thoughts as she noticed the Hogwarts uniform laid out on the huge bed. Her circumstances came back to her in a flash. She would have to get dressed. And she was in a boy's body. Not just any boy's body but Draco Malfoy's body! She'd have to see Draco Malfoy naked!

Through the past six years at Hogwarts, there had been many a butterbeer-induced girls' night in where Hermione and the other Gryffindor girls conversed about boys. Believe it or not, Hermione Granger actually talked about boys when there was no homework to be had. No matter how many of these conversations happened, they always ended up talking about the Prince of Slytherin, Draco Malfoy.

Now Hermione was going to find out the quintessential question that had been puzzling the Gryffindor girls for nearly seven years: boxers or briefs. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown would have given anything to do so. They'd gone into detail -- very, very vivid detail -- of how they would manage to find out what he wore under his uniform.

Hermione swallowed hard, closing her eyes. I can do this, close your eyes and just take the clothes off, it's not hard, Hermione thought, her hands trembled as she fumble with the buttons of the navy satin pajama top. She squinted her eyes open a bit; it couldn't hurt to look just a little. She took a deep breath and let the shirt fall off. Wow.

As the satin had dropped, a pale well-defined chest came into view. A very nice chest with a smattering of barely-noticeable golden hair that trailed down from the navel to dip under the matching satin pajama pants. Hermione stared at the stomach, feeling a blush coloring her --er, his -- face. Hey, it's my only chance, might as well just look, right? Hermione thought.

Her eyes trailed over the alabaster skin stretched taut over a leanly-muscled chest and a stomach complete with washboard abs. Quidditch does a body good, she mused with a soft giggle -- a very strange sound coming from a boy's lungs -- and she admitted, rather creepy. She flexed the aristocratic hands with their long fingers and manicured nails, rubbing her fingers together. His hands were calloused, probably from hours of flying on his broomstick for Quidditch.

She stared at the hands for a moment before she pulled on the white button-up shirt of the Hogwarts uniform and neatly tied the green and silver tie. She bit her bottom lip as she stared at the pajama pants. She, unlike Lavender and Parvati, had no desire to know what was under Draco's clothes. She'd already seen more of Draco than she'd ever thought she'd see.

Then a third, previously unthought-of option came to mind. Boxers, briefs...or buck-naked. A strangled sound pulled itself from Draco's throat as a sudden vision of Draco nude flashed across her mind. "I did not need to think of that," she cried in Draco's voice. She frowned; it felt strange to talk in Draco's voice...not unpleasant but kind of a tingling in her throat due to his deeper timbre.

She took a deep breath and removed the pajama bottoms. Thankfully, Draco was not naked underneath but he wore a pair of black silk boxers. Well, what about that, Lavender owes Parvati five Sickles, she mused, very relieved. She finished dressing in the uniform and grabbed Draco's trunk. I hope this is just a phase or something, I don't want to spend the next year as Draco Malfoy. She shuddered. Or longer.

Her stomach did a flip at the prospect; having to spend time with Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. She dragged the heavy trunk out of the room and her eyes widened in abject terror as she noticed the hundreds of flights of stairs that would take her downstairs. "The Malfoys are sadists," she whimpered.

"What is Master Draco doing?" a voice came and Hermione spun around to face the source, a little brownish-gray house-elf with a face that resembled a shriveled fruit dressed in a dirty pillowcase.

"Oh, you poor house-elf," Hermione whimpered. "Stuck here serving the...er...us. You should be free to seek wages and equal treatment."

The house-elf's eyes very nearly popped out of its head and Hermione was afraid that the house-elf was going to have a heart attack. "No! Master Draco, sorry Dodie is! Dodie promises never to ask questions. Master Draco must not free Dodie!" the tiny creature bawled, clenching Hermione's leg, its tears seeping into the gray material of the trousers. "Dodie is a good house-elf! Not likes Dobby!"

Hermione scoffed. "Dobby is an example for all house-elves," she said. Hermione winced as the house-elf blew its tiny nose on her trousers, its tiny body shaking as it cried.

"What's this?" a voice came. Hermione jerked around to see Lucius Malfoy walking toward her and the house-elf. Dodie immediately pulled away from Hermione, wiping its runny nose on the back of its arm.

"Nothing, sir," Hermione squeaked. "Just getting ready to g--go." She tried desperately to keep the tremble from Draco's voice. Lucius's storm-colored eyes narrowed in speculation.

"You're late," Lucius said and Hermione swallowed hard. There was a long silence punctuated only by Dodie's occasional sobs. "I'm proud of you, Draco. You've honored the Malfoy name."

Hermione bit back her retort, instead nodding dumbly. "Th--thank you," she stated. Lucius smiled warmly at her and Hermione stared at him in shock. The man snapped his fingers and a veritable army of house-eles appeared with the sound of a whip cracking. They lugged the trunk down the stairs, chattering happily, Dodie joining them.

Lucius squeezed Hermione's shoulder affectionately, following the house-elves. Hermione stared at the man's retreating form, her mouth wide open in shock. Draco has good parents? Now I know he's just a git, she mused. I can't even blame it on bad parenting...they seem really nice except for the fire-and-brimstone speeches about Mudbloods and pureblood superiority he must have been fed through the years. With a shrug, she followed Draco's father and the house-elves downstairs.

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