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Harry Potter and the Boy Who Was a...Girl?	By : dakotareynolds Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3535 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Harry Potter and the Boy Who Was a...Girl?
- 1
“I have to WHAT?” Professor McGonagall’s ears rang with the reverberating echoes of Draco Malfoy’s shouted indignation.

“You have to be on the school paper, Mr. Malfoy. Like I said, trying to hex opposing team member’s brooms is an offense that can warrant the sentence of community service. Now, the school paper is vastly understaffed, and I daresay a little diversity in your extra curriculors would do you no harm. You are to attend staff meetings from 5:30 to 8:00 on Wednesday evenings in the spare classroom on the second floor across from the statue of Bergdorf the Bogus. That is all, you may go.”

“I- But- Professor-” Draco seemed at a loss for words.

“Mister Malfoy, if I were you I would be grateful I didn’t take off fifty house points and sentence you to detention with Mr. Filch for the next two weeks. You know he still thinks he has the right to put students in chains like Umbridge granted him last year. Now go.”

Draco turned and left McGonagall’s office, muttering angrily to himself as he stormed off down the halls. “Honestly…work on the school paper? I didn’t even know we had a school paper…probably so dumb it’s not worth reading…menial tasks for commoners…what will Father say when he hears of this?”

He never should have been trying to put a wart cluster hex on Harry Potter’s Firebolt. No, actually, what he never should have done was sneak out there in daylight, yes. Or no, what he never should have done was sneak out there and have the foolishness to put Crabbe and Goyle on the lookout. No, what he never should have done was-

“Oof!” Malfoy tripped and went sprawling on the rug somewhere along the third floor corridor. Scrambling to get up, Draco looked around quickly and spotted Cho Chang climbing to her feet, delicately caressing her elbow, which it looked like she had banged on the floor pretty hard when Draco had plowed into her.

“Really, watch where you’re going, Chang, you shouldn’t go bashing into people like that,” Draco reprimanded. He began to notice a dull ache in his knee, throbbing and pulsing along with his heartbeat. Great, he thought, just what I need…a fat, ugly bruise. I bruised that time Granger slapped me across the face, though I’d rather people didn’t know…I bruised that time Potter bumped into me…Why doesn’t anyone watch where they’re going?

Cho’s eyes rapidly filled to the brim with tears, her nose started to get a bit splotchy, and anger passed over her face.

“Oh no, Malfoy, I did not bash into you. If anyone bashed into anyone, that would be you. Bashing into me. Now I think you owe me an apology!”

“Malfoys do not bash into people. Honestly, you tripped me, Chang, with your utter clumsiness,” replied Draco haughtily.

Tears began to spill over Cho’s face, running down across her nose and her smooth cheeks. She turned to go off down the hall, probably to seek refuge in the Girl’s Bathroom.

As she went, she seethed and sputtered, “Draco Malfoy, you are no gentleman. I thought pure-blood wizards prided themselves on their chivalrous manners. I guess not, though…shame…A real gentleman would have offered me his hand, helped me up, no matter whose fault it was…” Her voice became inaudible as she got further down the hall.

Left by a painting of an annoying squire and his master, Draco could feel anger bubbling inside him. Condemned to work on the school paper…berated for attempting to hex that insufferable Gryffindor Seeker’s Fancy-schmancy racing broom…then yelled at for not being a proper gentleman when SHE ran into ME…this is not a good day.

It was Wednesday, and it was 5:45, and Draco was late. Actually, he wouldn’t call it late. He was prepared to make an entrance. He had no idea who was on this school paper, so he dressed to impress, anyway, sure that, as long as he could rely on his looks and position, he wouldn’t actually have to do anything, anyway.

Just his luck, as he neared the generally unused classroom, now with a sign on the door that read, Hogwarts Times Publishing Office, he could hear her voice clearly through the door. Her bossy, know-it-all, always-right voice…

Hermione Granger was instructing the members of her newspaper, since she was the editor-in-chief. The other members were Ron Weasley, her boyfriend of nearly a year now, whom had jumped at the chance to work with her, in effort to spend more time with her, Luna Lovegood, whose father wanted her to go into the publishing business and take over the Quibbler when she was old enough, a handful of Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff or two, and absolutely no other Slytherins.

Sighing mournfully, Draco pushed open the door with his normal air of absolute dignity, and stepped into the room. To his disgust, no one took any notice; they were too busy arguing about the article that Luna wanted in the next issue…a follow up on her theory that the Abominable Snow-Man was a close friend of Potion Mistress Larkmorr, who had her own program on the Wizards Wireless Network, and that he sometimes supplied her recipes when she had run out of new things. Of course, Hermione was virulently opposed to this, and refused, point-blank, to accept it at all, declaring that her newspaper would only publish faultless pieces of new, revolutionary research, not asinine musings of delusional dreamers.

Anyway, Ron decided to get into the argument, because he didn’t want Hermione to silence everyone else with another grand philippic.

“Hey, Hermione, maybe you should just let her put it in, you know, like in the back, or something. Probably no one will even read it, and if they do, they’ll just think it’s a humor article or something. Really. It doesn’t matter.”

“It. Doesn’t. Matter? Ron, our whole integrity as a newspaper is at stake! I’m not about to publish something so…worthless!” Hermione’s reply, and apparent abhorrence of Ron’s ideas were immediate. Luna spoke at the same time, as well.

“A humor article? You think that’s what this is? Something to be laughed at? This is something the people deserve to know!” Luna screamed in indignation.

Both girls were glaring deadly accurate daggers straight into Ron’s head. He cowered slightly before his infamous red-headed anger rose and bubbled beneath his freckles.

“If this is what I’m going to get when I try and settle a problem, I can’t imagine what I would get if I purposefully tried to start something! Honestly! I. Don’t. Get. Girls. At. All!”

“Ah, Weasley, that’s no surprise. I can’t imagine how you even got Granger to go out with you.”

Hermione, though mad at Ron, was still loyal to her boyfriend.

“Let it go, Malfoy. If it were up to us you wouldn’t even be here. This is supposed to be your punishment, not ours.”

“Yeah. We should get paid to put up with you,” Ron added.

“Shut it, Ronald. Just because I’m not willing to listen to Malfoy verbally berate you doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook. I can’t believe that you don’t know me well enough to know that I would never put something so worthless in my paper.”

“It isn’t your paper, Hermione, it’s the school’s paper!” Luna reminded her.

Hermione glared at her. She was mad at Luna, mad at Ron, mad at Draco, and mad at Professor McGonagall for making her put up with Malfoy. She wondered how she was going to get all three students out of her hair so that she could concentrate on her editorials and her front page stories. She paused for a brief moment, and then her eyes lit up and the corners of her mouth rose slightly.

“Ok, Ron, if you don’t understand girls so much, then you’re to write an article. ‘Decoding Mad Things Girls Say,’ is a good working title, don’t you think?” She asked, smirking at her reference to his confusion at Cho’s actions and emotions in their fifth year.

“But how am I supposed to understand that?” Ron questioned indignantly. He has only joined the paper because of Hermione, and he had never wanted to do any actual writing or reporting.

“Aah, Weasel, getting yourself extra work now, from your girlfriend?” Draco looked as smug as could be. Had Harry been there, it would have reminded him of the gleeful expressions Dudley would have when he scored third helping of desert and Harry wasn’t allowed dinner at all until he finished repainting the garage.

“And you, Malfoy,” started Hermione, turning on Draco, “sine you fell you feel you know so much more about girls than Ron, and you don’t have an assignment yet, you can help Ron,” Hermione declared triumphantly.

“As interesting as that sounds, what about my article?” Luna put in.

“How about neither of us will have our pieces in the paper?” Hermione dolefully suggested. Luna accepted, and both girls were happy enough, because if it couldn’t be their piece in the paper, then at least it wasn’t one of the other’s.

“Hermione…how am I supposed to understand girls in time for the next edition? Or ever, for that matter?” Ron questioned, not even bothering to fight Hermione anymore, since the look in her eye was one of someone who meant what they had said, and any further argument would have been futile. Ron and Hermione’s stubborn arguments had died out since they started going out, with one or the other usually giving in and letting the other prevail.

Sighing, Hermione said, “All right, Ron, I’ll give you a month deadline and you can put it in a later edition. And as for understanding girls, all you have to do is experience being one.” Hermione said this last part calmly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“WHAT?” Ron shouted, his cry filled the air all over the castle, ringing through the halls and rivaling the one Draco had given when McGonagall had told him of his punishment.

Hermione, seeing Draco’s smirk lurking under his full lips, abruptly turned to him and said, “Draco, since you’re always boasting of your prowess in potions, I want you to look up the spells to turn Ron into a girl. You’ll also have to go along with the ruse and help to make it as believable as can be. You’ll help in writing the article, as well, and you’ll need to meet with Ron daily.

Both boys looked decidedly disgusted at the thought, but Ron understandably more so.
A few days later, in the newspaper room, Sunday afternoon.

“Are you absolutely sure this is right?” Ron looked carefully at the glass filled with a puce-colored potion Draco had brewed from a recipe found in a book in the library.

“For the last time, yes, Weasley, I’m sure it’s right.”

“Then why does it look like muddy water and smell like turpentine?” Ron wrinkled up his long nose and swirled the contents of the glass around.

“Because, if you’ve ever read about this, or even the Polyjuice Potion, which this is related to, you’d know that all potions of this type are distinctly revolting,” Draco answered, wiping his slim hands on a spare towel, and saying all of this with an air of someone explaining and reasoning with a bratty toddler.

“Now, this is only a trial run, and the potion lasts an hour, just like the Polyjuice Potion, though this is considerable easier since it works using your existing genes as a basis and then just altering them slightly to change your appearance into that of a girl. Granger said take it behind that screen over there, put on the girl clothes, and she’ll be in here in like, five minutes from her Arithmancy study group in the library.”

Ron looked utterly nauseated.

“I’m only doing this because I love Hermione and I don’t want to screw up our relationship,” Ron said, to justify why he was preparing to swallow the most vile thing imaginable, and willingly turn into a member of the opposite gender.

“Good thing you got your declaration of love out now, Weasel, because after you swallow that potion, it’s going to sound a lot less straight-arrowed than you mean it,” Draco smirked.

“Shut up, Malfoy. Remember, not a word of this to anyone.”

Sighing, Draco resoundingly agreed. He knew that he was banished to serve on the newspaper for the rest of the school year, and that Hermione could make that term a living hell, since she was editor-in-chief. No amount of arguing, persuasiveness, or money could get him out of this ordeal. Furthermore, Hermione made him sign a blank piece of parchment after she made him promise not to tell anyone about the piece they were investigating. Draco strongly suspected it was cursed, and that something dreadful would happen to him if he told.

“I know, I know. Now take the damn potion so I can laugh at you as a member of the opposite sex,” Draco let out.

“Right, right,” Ron said reluctantly, and shuffled behind the screen. There he found a girl’s set of wizarding robes, charmed by Hermione to fit whatever size he happened to be.

“Bottom’s up,” he whispered.

“Granger, come QUICK!” Draco shouted as loud as he dared, his head peeping from the newspaper room off down the hall, in the direction from which Hermione would come from. “Granger…please!”

Draco reluctantly pulled his head back into the room and was greeted by Ron, who, currently, was frowning like he had never had to frown before. Because they both knew whose bad idea this was, and they both knew who should get yelled at—Hermione.

Draco wrinkled up his nose, but refrained from saying anything. He didn’t want Ron’s very apparent anger taken out on him, just because he was the closest available target. Besides, he was sure, after all their shared history, that if he even said one thing, he was risking the whole ordeal being blamed on him, regardless of whether it was anywhere near right or not.

The pair stared at the floor, ceiling, and surrounding desks for what felt like eternity, but in all likelihood was probably five minutes, before Hermione arrived, pushing the door open as she called out,

“Hey Ron, how did the potion wo—“

Her words were cut off as she laid eyes on her boyfriend. Or what was her boyfriend. Actually, if she tilted her head and let her vision go fuzzy a little bit, he looked remarkably the same.

“Hermione…are you aware that I am now supposed to be a girl?”

“Ye-es…”

“And do you comprehend that I am supposed to look convincingly like a girl?”

“…yes…”

“And do you see what I look like right now?” Ron demanded, hair, now shoulder-length copper-colored tresses, positively sparking with repressed rage.

“Well I think you look very, erm, well, ah, remarkably…uhm, well, see…the same.”

Ron’s previously charming looks appeared to be so because they fit it with everything. His gangly body fit in with his long nose and shock of red hair, his blue eyes went well with his complexion, and his lopsided grin made him look almost whimsical at times.

However, with the ingestion of the potion, Ron’s fitting good looks became utterly warped. His height was non-preferable in a girl, his shoulders too broad, his hair too frizzy, and his eyes became a rather muddy hazel. His nose was too large and indelicate and his gangly arms lacked any sense of grace whatsoever. He made, quite honestly, a rather unattractive girl, to say the least.

Under her breath, Hermione said, “Are you sure you’ve made the potion right, Malfoy?” Even though Hermione had Draco sign a cursed parchment that would not allow him to tell anyone about the project, she didn’t think to bind him to making the potion properly.

“Absolutely. Look, I used all the ingredients, did it just so…”

And Hermione, skilled and knowledgeable student that she is, inspected everything and could find no fault with Draco’s potions work.

“Well ok….”

Ron stamped his feet in impatience, looking absolutely ridiculous standing there in a Gryffindor girl’s uniform, skirt and knee-high socks and all. He let Draco and Hermione’s exchange go unchallenged, because he was too encased in his own frustration. Furthermore, all the frizzy hair around his ears made whispering rather hard to hear. And at the moment, he didn’t particularly care.

“Yes, Hermione, I look the same,” Ron continued. “That is to say, I look like a boy. But as a girl. And do you know what that means?”

“…good thing you’re a boy, then?” Hermione replied, trying to lighten things up a bit. After all, they all knew the potion would wear off in an hour.

“NO! That means I am practically the ugliest girl on the planet!” And to Ron and Draco’s horror, Ron started to cry. Tears leaked out of his eyes and his face grew splotchy. “Great! Now this potion’s made me act girly!” Ron was chagrined.

“Actually, Ron, it’s a perfectly normal thing for a girl to cry after a particularly…well…traumatizing experience. Especially when it deals with insecurity in their own appearance. But don’t worry about it, you’ll turn back within the hour. And furthermore, since you’re…ah…well, not that convincing as a girl…” Hermione went on delicately. “I think that you’re better off…not continuing the research for this article.” Ron immediately brightened. Just as he was about to say something, though, Hermione barged on.

“However, don’t think you’re getting off this story that easy. Just because you don’t make the best girl doesn’t mean anything. In fact, maybe you were just meant to be a behind-the-scenes kind of person in this little endeavor. Yes, I think Draco should have to try the potion.”

Draco looked distinctly disgusted at the very thought. Yeah right, like he, a purebred Slytherin, was going to be caught dead becoming a girl and pretending to be one for a stupid story in a stupid school newspaper.

“Look here, Granger. I was banished to the school paper, working under you. I was forced onto a reporting team with Weasley. I had to brew an extra potion and endure his company. You never said anything about me having to do it, too, so I’m not going to.”

“Malfoy, you know as well as I do that Professor McGonagall put you on the newspaper staff as a punishment for yet again trying to sabotage Harry and Gryffindor alike. You know that it’s not supposed to be enjoyable. You know that there are worse punishments, and if you don’t at least try this then I am going to report you to the Professor and you are going to spend Wednesday nights in Filch’s company, hanging by your thumbnails and scrubbing toilets. Now, ladle out some potion and swallow it now.”

Draco glared what he imagined were large, poisonous darts into Hermione’s heart, or lack thereof. He did not need this, he had not signed up for this, he had done what he was supposed to do and now was being punished because Ron didn’t make a good girl.

One look at Hermione’s face, though, convinced him that no amount of being stubborn and attempting to persuade the Stone Queen to move from her position was going to work. And since they weren’t exactly friends, Draco in no way doubted that Hermione would unhesitatingly turn him into Filch to serve out his punishment.

Talking himself into the fact that it would only be for an hour, and only in the name of investigative journalism, and only in the face of blackmail, Draco reached over and grabbed a glass, and then slowly took hold of the ladle in the cauldron, like it was covered in knargles, and ever-so-slowly filled the glass. Then he walked, slower-than-molasses, across the room, and then, so slowly that it seemed as if time had stopped, stepped behind the screen, and then, so slowly that they would likely all be Dumbledore’s age before he finished, swallowed the potion, mouthful by mouthful.

It burned going down, and Draco could feel his body changing, growing…shrinking, skin bubbling, and hair sprouting from his head and flowing past his shoulders.

Then, quickly, much more quickly than Draco had done any of the process, it was done.

Shakily, Draco felt his body with his hands. Hm…slimmer, a bit. Feels a bit wrong, though, molesting myself…He took out his wand and altered his clothes. No way was he going to be caught dead in a skirt yet. What if he looked as hedious as Weasley?

“Malfoy, you done yet, or are you taking ages to change, as well?” Hermione said with the air of one exceedingly curious, but struggling to pretend not to be.

“Yeah, yeah…” Draco grumbled. Then he drew himself up, and hestitantly stepped out from behind the screen.

Instantly, Ron’s mouth dropped, and Hermione sucked in her breath.

At that exact moment, Harry walked in through the door.

“Are you guys done with this newspaper stuff yet, because I’d like some help on the transfiguration essay due tomorrow…” Harry’s
voice trailed off as he caught sight of Malfoy.

“Who’s this?” He asked, not at all unfriendly. He was more like a puppy, eager to meet someone new.

“That’s…er…” Ron tried to answer, failed, and then looked intelligently at Hermione for an answer.

“That’s the new transfer student. Her name is…uh…Drago…Lauren Drago,” Hermione supplied.

Harry crossed the room, reached out his hand, and shook Draco’s.

“Hi, Lauren. Welcome to Hogwarts.” He smiled one of his most dashing smiles.

I think I’m going to be sick, thought Draco, as he realized painfully that Harry was still holding his hand. I…must…get out of here…

Why had he never seen her before? Such a pretty girl…yet there was something, of course, hauntingly familiar. She possessed an air of confidence…like a movie star or a model, strutting down a runway…her slender hips swinging as she walked.

Hermione caught it, that much Harry knew. She always caught on so damn quickly…when it came to others’ feelings. How could she be so blind to her own feelings about Ron?

Harry’s imagination took over as he sat in a chair outside Hermione’s office, the word “EDITOR” boldly emblazoned on the door. He was completely oblivious to the war waging inside, as a haughty, feminine Draco shrilly argued with Hermione for the next half hour.

An irate Draco Lucius Malfoy screeched in a high-pitched register for the “fluffy haired mudblood” to “put me RIGHT!!” Finally, getting annoyed, not only with Draco’s many protestations, but also his newly girlish voice, Hermione silenced him with a flick of her wand, and waited for Draco’s flushed face to fade and resemble its usual palor.

“McGonagall sentenced you to help with the Hogwarts newspaper. As a punishment. It is not supposed to be to your liking. This,” she said, indicating Draco’s appearance, “It crucial for a very interesting article, rich in research and newfound knowledge. You WILL do it or—“ she broke off, pulled out a camera, and quickly snapped half a dozen pictures of Draco’s current situation.

“Or,” she continued, “I will plaster these all over school, next to before pictures so people can see your miraculous transformation.”

Having said that, she waited a moment to allow her words to sink in and then allowed Draco to have full control of his vocal chords.

Draco shot his best glare at her, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

“But Granger, you saw Potter gaping at me like some kind of imbecile…I will not be made to prance about the castle like some kind of…Potter fanatic!!”

Hermione walked out from behind her desk and stepped over Ron, who’d been hit by a full body-bind curse fired off by Draco after he wouldn’t stop laughing.

“Draco,” she said sweetly, drawing closer to him as she talked. “This is INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM…I can think of at least three good reasons why you should remain marginally more feminine than usual. One, you are most fit to portray the role of a girl…CONVINCINGLY…than any other boy at this paper. Two, there is a lot of academic advancement to be made by this experiment…for a male to experience the woes of a female teenager!! Three, which, incidentally, I am sure will appeal to you most, is that if you seduce Harry and then write about it, outing your whole affair in the school paper, not only will it be the most popular issue ever, but I guess you’d be getting one up on your nemesis.

Considering this deeply, Draco grudgingly agreed.

“Ok Granger, but first you Obliviate Weasley, so only you and I know my ‘identity’ and second, you tell me exactly why you want to subject one of your friends to this eventual public embarrassment.”

“I have my own reasons for that, Malfoy. There is always a price t pay for knowledge. But I will,” agreed Hermione, “erase Ron’s memory.” Sly as a Slytherin, but as intellectually hungry as a Ravenclaw, Hermione’s exact motives would remain an enigma.

Draco turned on the heel of his pumps and sashayed out the door, a slight smile on his curvaceous lips as Harry’s eyes slid out of focus upon spotting him.
Had Draco not had this seemingly innate obsession of some sort with Harry Potter, his masquerade as a female would not have lasted five minutes.

He had so many schemes and plans involving and revolving around Harr that he had entitled this one “Draco’s Plan No. 357, a.k.a. The Seduction and Subsequent Embarrassment of Harry Potter”.

Since Draco, through his powers of obsessed observation, was already familier with Harry’s crusades when it came to relationships…Breaking Cho’s bag to get her alone to talk to her—pathetic! He knew he had a long way ahead of him. He’d have to manipulate Harry, make him think he was in charge, when it would really be Draco calling the shots.

Ahh, a field day for any Slytherin!

He had left Potter outside Granger’s office…drooling probably. He stalked off to the Slytherin dorms, making sure his uniform was appropriate. Just because he was a little different than normal didn’t mean he couldn’t look pristine.

He gave the password and entered. Immediately he ran into Pansy Parkinson, that nosy bitch. With questions written all over her pug-like features, she headed toward Draco, but before she could say anything, Draco stopped her.

“You will not ask me any questions tonight,” he said, waving his hand before her face, copying something he picked up from a muggle movie he accidentally saw. “You have always known me. I am your classmate…Lauren Drago…” Then he thought more, while her eyes were still glazed over, and said, “I sleep in your bed. You like to sleep on the floor.”

“I like to sleep on the floor,” Pansy zombishly repeated.

Smirking satisfyingly, Draco marched up to the girl’s dormitories, planning on exploring his new…equipment.

As he reached the 7th years’ room, he realized he didn’t have any girl’s clothes. No matter, he could conjure up some. He was fairly accomplished at Transfiguration. On the Hogsmeade weekend coming up, he figured he could go shopping for a more complete wardrobe.

Waving his wand, he first changed the sheets on that oaf Pansy’s bed to those fit for a Malfoy…green silk and Egyptian cotton, 500 thread count. Then he conjured up a sexy black negligee, and, locking the door, he changed in front of the mirror.

Carefully examining his new body, he was quite satisfied with what he saw. Slender arms and wrists, graceful hands, small hips at which the bone slightly curved out. Turning, he observed his soft back with its now feminine curves, tight butt, niiice calves, with muscles gently showing when he stood on pointed toes. Turning back, he felt his breasts. Firm, yet soft…not too big, but nicely shaped, with
enough cleavage to work with. They were slightly bigger than his cupped hands, and the nipples were soft and pink.

The only thing he didn’t like was this growth down there. Carefully taking his wand and muttering the same hair removal spell he used on the small hairs that used to sprout on his upper lip, he removed the pale hair, fine but coarse, leading to his now very girlish parts.

Tossing his hair and biting his bottom lip, white teeth gently visible past his upper lip, he couldn’t help but realize how HOT he was. Ah, at least no girly hormones were hitting him. It felt strange, through, to view a naked girl as sexy as himself and not pop a semi. Well, that’s something he’d have to get used to.

He stepped into the negligee, sliding it up over his slim waist, adjusting the straps on his shoulders, his clavicles protruding nicely. His pale skin seemed to glow due to the juxtaposition provided by the black lace.

Climbing onto the soft bed and laying on his back, Draco enjoyed the feeling of the silk cover against his smooth, svelte legs.

Then, rubbing his soft nipples in circles, one with each hand, he felt them transform into hard buds against the lace, scratching slightly, but not in any painful way. He felt a strange tightening in between his legs and began to rub faster, pushing his breasts back into his chest. Then, slowly, his nimble hands trailed down, stroking his tight stomach and tracing gentle lines along his pelvis and back and forth between his hipbones.

Cautiously, carefully, enjoying the slow caresses while simultaneously suppressing an urge to go faster, he found his slightly enlarged clitoris poking out from between the lips of his very different and intriguing parts. Slowly, drawing his first two fingers up on either side of this highly sensitive part, he gently exposed it by using his index and ring fingers to expand the area, middle finger gently, so softly he could barely feel it, stroking from bottom to top of his clit. Again, he traced this path, and then gradually more forcefully, swirled it clockwise and then counterclockwise.

Proceeding farther, he found some moisture lubricating from his entrance. Toying gently with this area, he involuntarily contracted the muscles there, tightening around the very tip of his finger.

Playing with the spongey flesh around this cavern, he found that by wiggling his middle finger there, it caused the most delicious sensation. Faster and faster and faster he did this, so that his finger was slightly twitching at his entrance, and getting wetter by the minute.

Then, arching his back and stretching his arm down farther, he pushed his finger as far in as he could. Out. In. Out. In. In deeper, faster, harder. Two fingers, curled back toward his wrist, hitting a spot that reaaallly felt good. Thrusting his arm down harder and his fingers in deeper, he moved them side to side and ground his hips along, too, finding a rhythm.

Tension built up, built up, tightening, feeling so good, yes, so good, harder, faster, deeper…until everything relaxed and throbbed and felt wonderful.

Basking in the aftermath, Draco pulled out his hand and sensually licked between his fingers, before rolling over and falling fast asleep, his features looking incredibly pristine and beautiful.
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Harry Potter and the Boy Who Was a...Girl?