I don't own the characters, I wish that I did.

But wishes only come true if you have a talking

Cricket with a top hat.



Draco Malfoy was never one to believe in fairytales. Not even when he'd been a young child had the happy stories ever been pleasing to him. He'd always been extremely skeptical, as was his Malfoy nature, and had only been consumed with questions when any of his many caretakers had tried to read him such silly drivel.

"Snow white? Why didn't she run away from the awful witch in the first place? And why stay with seven dwarves. Did they have magic to protect her? Apples can't be poisoned can they? It would have been much more convenient to use a potion. And kisses don't wake people up!"

"Since when do pigs build houses? They don't even have hands? Are these magical pigs with hands? What spell give pigs hands? And how did the wolf know where to find them and blow their houses down? Didn't they have up proper wards? Such silly pigs, I don't like this story. Read a different one."

"Cinderella? Transfigurations has its limits. Curtains to a dress sure, but mice to coachmen? Impossible. There's no such thing has human transfigurations. Why do you think we need polyjuice? And are you really trying to tell me that Cinderella has feet that are a completely different size than everyone else in the world?"

And the same would go one for any children's story and any fairytale. Eventually, everyone gave up. It was no secret in the Malfoy household that reading the young master a fairytale or anything of the sort would only lead to trouble.

But here in current time, many years since Draco had even entertained the thought of a bedtime story, fairytales were the furthest thing from his mind. In fact, there were very few things on his mind except for how unbelievably furious and embarrassed he was at his current situation.

You see, Draco Malfoy had had an accident. A terrible, terrible accident.

Yesterday had been another seemingly uneventful Thursday afternoon. Draco had gone to his potions class, as per usual, and unfortunately had the luck of being partnered with Neville Longbottom once again. Snape had first requested Draco, the best potions student in the school, tutor the rather incompetent Gryffindor. He'd reluctantly agreed, and after their first relative success (i.e. nothing blew up) Snape continued to partner them in class.

Today's potion was rather simple. It was meant to change the drinker's eye color temporarily. Since the next day would be Halloween and there was to be a large costume ball, Snape had thought it would be both fitting and just challenging enough that no one would slack off. It was a potion used mostly for recreation and costumes, after all witches and wizards were very fond of Halloween. But it could also be used to aid in a quick disguise when the rarer ingredients of a Polyjuice couldn't be obtained.

Either way, it was a simple potion; nothing to be stressed over in the least, or at least, that's what Draco had thought. He had honestly tried his best to help the nervously stuttering Gryffindor but he was admittedly cold towards the boy. But then again, who wasn't he cold towards?

At the end of the class, everyone drank their potions and began marveling at the distinct and outrageous eye colors they had. There was light pink with little red hearts, bright orange and yellow and red like a flame, mixes of aqua and green like the sea, neon purple with black swirls; the combinations went on and on. And Draco, being much braver than he ever should have been, scooped up their potion into a cup and drank it.

He had planned for the potion to make his eyes bright, blood red but after the burning of the potion settled in his stomach he turned to the Gryffindor and the boy frowned. There was no change, nothing different about his silvery blue eyes at all. Draco was honestly slightly disappointed but oh well, no harm done. Just another potion rendered ineffective by his rather un-teachable potions partner.

So that night, Draco had retired to his room, feeling a little drowsy and lightheaded. He went to sleep early, not expecting anything to be different in the morning. But oh how very wrong he was.

The first thing he noticed as he slowly pulled his consciousness back into the real world was a strange weight on his chest. He'd never felt anything like that before. And the black silk boxers he'd worn to sleep in seemed a little tighter around his hips than normal, he'd really have to cut back on the desserts.

He opened his eyes and sat up running his hands through his tangled hair. In that very instant, two things occurred to him. His hair, that he'd just had trimmed, was now suddenly halfway down his back and whatever the hell was on his chest bounced.

What the fuck…?

Draco looked down and his eyes widened almost comically at the look of his bare chest. What should have been a smooth plane all they way down was interrupted by two rather large masses that were otherwise known as breasts. He stared at them in disbelief for a few long seconds before he fainted clean away.

The very next thing he recalled was a very blushing Blaise shaking him gently awake and asking where he'd come from.

"What? Blaise it's me? Please tell me this is all a dream." Draco had responded, shocked silly by the lilting high pitched sound of his voice.

"I'm sorry, I don't know you. What house are you in?" he asked his hand wandering a little farther down Draco's bare shoulder than he would've liked.

Draco pushed him away, "Fucking pervert! You would try to cop a feel when your best friend is having a fucking crisis."

Blaise's dark eyes widened and his dark skin seemed to gray out, "Draco?"

"Well who the hell else would I be!" Draco shouted in response hastily covering his chest by crossing his arms, "Ohmigawd… I'm a woman. I'm a fucking woman!"

Needless to say, there was a certain Gryffindor that was about his get his ass kicked into the next century.

So Draco had his friend Pansy help him find a suitable shirt, since not a single one of his would fit around the obtrusions on his chest. And then he called all of them, Blaise, Pansy, Snape, and Neville to the potions lab so they could discuss exactly what the hell had happened to him. Luckily, all of those in attendance of the little meeting were smart enough not to laugh or make any sarcastic comments. They would've gotten Draco's now rather dainty fist right in the face, and they all knew it.

After Snape had whipped up an antidote and fed it to him, Draco had pulled out his wand and cast a slightly illegal version of the muffliato spell on them all. So that none of them would ever be able to talk about this incident again. It was only slightly illegal because though the ministry frowned upon it, the laws had never been put in place. Unfortunately, though not by coincidence, at their council meeting, everyone was speechless about whether it should be illegal or not.

Even though the war was over and Draco's father was good and dead, his family name and pride were very important to him. It wouldn't do to have his reputation ruined over this. Snape, in a series of roundabout ways, considering he was no longer able to talk about it, informed Draco that the antidote would set in somewhere around midnight.

Feeling content that his dignity was intact and his normal form would soon be returned to him, Draco returned to the Slytherin boys' dorm to wait.

But his friends, the sneaky little snakes they were, weren't going to let him just hide away until this had passed. It was Halloween and they were both adamant that he just had to attend the dance. Of course Draco had refused; why in the hell would he want to prance around as girl all bloody night? But Blaise and Pansy did the one thing they knew he simply couldn't resist.

They dared him to go.

And Draco Malfoy had never once backed down from a dare.

He looked helplessly back and forth between his wildly grinning friends before finally agreeing to at least make an appearance but that was all. It was enough. No sooner had the words of agreement left his lips, did Pansy Parkinson turn into a whirlwind of dresses and makeup and hair styles until, when finally the world settled down again, Draco looked like a walking orgasm

He had to admit, he liked the rather uncomfortably aroused look on Blaise's face; he liked the bit of power it gave him. Sure Draco had always been totally intoxicating to both boys and girls, but he'd never been able to use his powers on straight boys before. And he liked knowing that even in a foreign female body, he hadn't lost an ounce of his beauty and charm.

Pansy had really done something magical with his makeup, no pun intended. Obviously, Draco had never worn make up before, he hadn't had a need to. And Pansy had gone rather light, accentuating his looks, not covering them. He the barest hint of smoky eye shadow around his eyes making the blue stand out, a light pink on his lips, the bit of pale rose blush on his cheek bones… Well honestly Draco didn't know much about makeup and all the other things she'd dabbed across his cheeks and smudged across his eyelids; but he'd happily receive a blowjob from the face of the girl that stared back at him in the mirror. It was sort of a weird thought to have considering the girl in mirror was actually himself. But in his head, he was still very much a 17 year old boy.

His pale blond hair and been left loose, cascading down his back some of the ends in very loose pin curls that looked so soft he just wanted to play with them. But Pansy yelled at him and told him not to, saying he'd ruin them. And his dress, well they'd had to argue about that. Draco did not want to feel like a fucking drag queen. But honestly, now that he saw himself in it, he wasn't upset in the least. It was the palest blue color with magical sparkles all over that seemed almost like stars, glinting and disappearing into the fabric again each time it moved; twinkling like the night sky crowded with heavenly lights. (Man my inner monologue is getting a bit carried away). It was long and flowing, revealing his pale back and dipping to show his substantial cleavage. Gripping at his waist to show how slender it was and making his hips look wide in comparison.

The only thing he really had a problem with were the silver heels he had to wear, with straps going across his feet and around his ankles. It felt totally otherworldly to wear shoes like that. He had to magically shorten the 3 ½ inch heels to 2 inches so he wouldn't topple over. But over all, the girl that was staring at him from the mirror looked utterly fuckable. More than fuckable. She was every straight boy's wet dream come true.

And so, now that he was ready for the dance, in a costume absolutely no one would recognize him in, he and his friends had left for the Great Hall to enjoy their Halloween festivities.

That had been more than hour ago, and though before he'd gotten here, Draco had felt almost proud of the way he looked, now it was a totally different story. Whatever convinced that silly senile old headmaster of his to allow alcohol for 5th years and up he would never know. But if one more stinking drunk pervert grabbed his boob he was gonna fucking punch someone.

He didn't dance, still not feeling too confident in his heels; he stayed more towards the edge of the Great Hall. He'd wandered out into the courtyard that had been added so that the student could go outside to see the fireworks and dazzling bright full moon. But it was too cold out there for him, and though his body was softer and fleshier than ever, the sharp wind seemed to blow right through his small frame and he was forced back inside with the rest of the crowds.

He felt extremely out of place and uncomfortable. The stares he got every time he so much as moved were nearly unbearable. He was tired of being hit on and ogled at and drooled over. Literally drooled over. It had been flattering to have that much power over straight boys at first but really, he found the whole lot of them to be disgusting, perverted Neanderthals. Seriously, when's the last time any of them cleaned their nails? Or shaved correctly? Most of them slathered on way too much cologne, probably to cover years of bad hygiene. And they all had the worst pick up lines in the history of the world.

"Hey beautiful, there must be something wrong with my eyes 'cause I can't take them off you."

"Was that an earthquake or did you just rock my world?"

"Oh baby, I lost my virginity, can I have yours?"

"My wand is ready, let's make magic!"

If Draco had a galleon for every cheesy and crude pick up line he'd heard tonight, he'd be able to double the Malfoy fortune in no time flat.

Deciding rather abruptly that he'd certainly stood up to the dare and was sick of this damn dance, he left the Great Hall, sighing heavily once the thick doors were closed behind him. He was ready to go back to his room, wash all evidence of this night off him in a long, hot shower, and crawl into bed. He'd wake up tomorrow as male as ever.

He set off down the mostly empty hallways still able to hear the muffled music. There were of course a few stragglers from the dance out and about. Those who had to escape to the bathroom and those couples looking for some secluded corner. Draco passed them all by, wanting only to get back to the privacy of the Slytherin dorms.

As he got farther from the Great Hall the corridors emptied out and he was walking alone. He felt safe so he was relatively shocked with a heavy hand came down hard on his shoulder and spun him around.

"Mmm hey gorgeous. Trick or treat?" A rather drunken Ravenclaw boy slurred out pressing him against a wall.

Draco glared daggers at him and tried to push him away, ready to get out all his frustrations on this drunken punching bag, but he found, much to his dismay this body was more different than he thought. He wasn't anywhere near as strong as he was normally. His arms felt weak and the Ravenclaw was leaning heavily against him, pushing his slender body painfully into the masonry of the wall behind him.

"I'll bet you wanna give me a treat…" the boy said leaning into kiss him and Draco began to really struggle in earnest now, but to no avail.

He shrieked out a slew of expletives, hoping it would either wake the idiot from his drunken stupor or bring someone to his rescue. He was really fighting now, but the boy easily grabbed his thin wrists and restrained him. It was no use; he just wasn't fucking strong enough!

The boy leaned in as though to kiss him and Draco pulled away as far as he could his mouth twisted in disgust as the boy's hot breath rushed over his skin. Helpless, he felt the familiar cowardice swelling in him and he let out a whimper of defeat before he simply squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for the worst.

Very suddenly, the body that was restraining him was gone and Draco slumped to the ground. He was flooded with relief as he saw some other boy had obviously saved him from being a rape victim. He watched absently, still breathing hard, as the taller dark haired boy harshly scolded the Ravenclaw, brandishing his wand and ordering the would-be-rapist back to his house dorms.

The drunken boy offered a sort of slurred apology before he left, at which point Draco's savior turned to help him. The blood drained from Draco's face and internally groaned.

Harry. Fucking. Potter.

Why hadn't he known? He was everyone's god damn savior, wasn't he?

Tonight was so not his night.


Harry Potter took another shot of Firewhiskey before pushing away yet another girl from rubbing up against him. He had to admit, Dumbledore might be losing the last of his precious marbles, allowing alcohol at a school dance. But it was only 5th years and up, and in a way Harry was grateful. There was no way he'd be able to make it through this night without the liquid courage.

He had politely brushed off every girl who came his way, and there were tons. Each of them wanting a dance, a date, a kiss, or anything really from the famous Harry potter. They didn't really like him, he knew better by now. They liked the image of him, the idea of him as a hero. But none of them so much as knew a single thing about him other than that he'd saved the world and had lots of money. But that was all these girls needed to know, wasn't it?

Harry spent most of his time at the dance shooting back Firewhiskey and jealously eyeing his friends as they danced. Ron and Hermione looked so perfect together. They loved each other, knew each other, cared about each other. The same with Ginny and Dean, or Luna and Neville. Even Seamus, though single, seemed to have found plenty of blokes willing to grind against him. They looked… happy.

Harry only wished he could ever find someone who could love him for who he was, not the famous part of who he was made to be.

He got fed up with his depressed mood rather quickly and decided he would go take a walk to get away. He was becoming almost sick with envy when he looked at his friends and it certainly wasn't a feeling he enjoyed. He left the Great Hall pretty quickly, just aimlessly wandering the corridors. There were of course, the groups of girls who all had to check their makeup in the bathroom together and the couples who'd snuck off for a more private "conversation" but mostly, Harry was alone. He preferred it that way.

When people were around he became "Harry Potter: The-Boy-Who-Lived". It was easier to avoid crowds.

God, his thoughts were really getting depressing, weren't they?

He wandered pretty far, before he slowly started circling back, debating whether he'd go back in for some more Firewhiskey or just call it a night and go to bed. But he was rather abruptly startled out his silent indecision by the sound of a girl screaming:

"Donchu fucking touch me! Fuckin' twat nosed Ravenclaw bastard!"

His first response was laugher and disgust at the insult "twat nosed". Especially considering it dredged up a rather disturbing mental image. He'd have to use that insult later. Still, he hurried towards the sounds of distress and pulled out his wand. As he turned one more corner he saw the 6th year Jeremy Buggle pinning a blond girl against the wall. He was holding her wrists back firmly and she was obviously terrified. Harry stalled long enough to see her face scrunch up in disgust and her eyes close as she apparently resigned herself to her fate.

Harry stepped in then, grabbing the boy by the back of his collar and roughly throwing him against the opposite wall of the hallway. The boy slumped and stumbled, his eyes glazed over. Harry wrinkled his nose as he took a step closer; Jeremy absolutely reeked of alcohol. But all it took was a point of his wand, the wand that had defeated Voldemort, and suddenly the boy's lusty gaze was overtaken by fear.

Harry grabbed the boy by the front of his shirt, hoping to teach him a lesson for the future he harshly admonished him and threatened to castrate him before sending him back to his dorms. Jeremy let out a mumble that Harry assumed was meant to be an apology before he swiftly left, obviously wanting to keep his reproductive organs intact. Harry sighed a little, feeling almost bad for the usually kind boy. It was amazing what a little alcohol could do to some people.

Harry quickly remembered the girl he'd saved and turned to look at her. She had one pale trembling hand at her throat, obviously trying to catch her breath. And suddenly Harry was trying to catch his breath too. Now he really pitied Jeremy. The girl was just fucking… breathtaking. Literally. Ivory skin, blond hair the palest golden color, big glittering eyes behind long lashes. God, he'd never seen a more beautiful face! He saw her sparkling gray blue eyes flicker up to him and was surprised to see a look of disgust and horror cross her features, her perfectly shaped pink lips twisting into a sneer. Harry's eyebrows raised minutely. That certainly wasn't the response he usually got from girls.

He walked over to her and knelt at her side, "Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?" he asked as he reached out to lift the shoulder strap of her dress back to where it belonged rather than where it was, halfway down her upper arm.

The girl smacked his hand away before he could touch her, "I'm fine, Potter." She snapped and Harry didn't respond, not sure how he could.

The girl moved as though to stand but Harry could see her arms were trembling. He reached out to help her up and steady her but as soon as she was on her feet she pushed him away again.

"Umm…" Harry started feeling slightly insecure, "If you're headed back to the ball I can—"

"My agenda is none of your business." The girl snapped backing away.

Okay, that was it. Harry wasn't the type of person who couldn't take a hint. Yup, she hated him. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why though. In fact… he didn't even know who she was. She was a striking girl, not the type of person one forgets easily. So how was it that Harry had never seen her before?

"Well alright…" Harry responded slowly, "Just be careful. Wherever it is you're headed."

He took a step as though to turn and heard something crunch under his foot. They both paused at the sound and Harry lifted his foot before bending to pick up what he'd stepped on. It was a silver bracelet. A long strip of flat silver with the initials "OM" scrawled fancily over it. The chain that clasped it to one's wrist was most certainly broken.

"Is this yours?" he asked holding it out to her in his hand.

Her eyes glinted harshly before she looked down his hand. She gasped and reached for her left wrist as though to see that her bracelet really wasn't there before she snatched it out of his hand.

"OH MY GAWD!" she yelled, "You broke it! You fucking broke it!" she groaned and sighed, "This is the worst night of my life…"

It was hard to feel pity for a girl that so obviously disliked him. But somehow, Harry managed. Still he took a step back feeling slightly uneasy.

"Can't it be fixed?" He asked quietly.

"Do you have any idea how much this is worth? More than everything you own! And no it can't just easily be fixed." She replied

"Alright, alright…" Harry said annoyed with the arrogance that seemed to flow so easily from the girl as he tried to think of someway to fix the situation.

The girl slumped against the wall again, "My mother is going to be so mad at me…" she mumbled.

And again, Harry was somehow unable to stop himself from feeling bad about it. Damn his good natured Gryffindor qualities, "Is there anyway I can help?" he asked kindly.

"Help? Help? It seems to me that you bloody Gryffindors do plenty of helping as it is; especially you. I'm not some Gryffindor charity case. You can shove your 'help' where the sun doesn't shine for all I care, Potter."

Harry's mouth settled into a firm line. He was about to retort before he really thought about it. Rude as she was, hadn't Harry just been wishing for someone who didn't fawn over him because he was famous? She obviously couldn't care any less about who he was. She was gorgeous beyond belief, strong willed too. She was everything he could've ever wanted all in one beautiful, pale package.


Alright, there's chapter one. I actually really like this story cuz they're won't be a ton of angst (like all my other emo stories)

And I'd like to know what you think. Is it worth continuing?