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[Harry Potter] Malfoid Stories

Thoughts:

HTgWEHEXEAA2B0o
source: @Liiveesama

✋🤚✨
 
Excellent, excellent, hahahaha! I look forward to more!

Though honestly, I do enjoy stories where more than Malfoy is genderbent. Yes I love the wholesomeness of Harry/Malfoid but what can I say? I grew up on silly anime harem shows.

Plus, the way Rowling wrote, most of the cast comes off as female in many ways, Harry himself. Shy Tomboy Ronnie, Big Sister Star Cedrica, and of course, Goth Dommy Mommy Snape are all rather appealing.

And Hermione as the flat nerd Harry doesn't notice holds here, too.

According to Ginevra 'Ginny' Weasley:

Hermione - Titty Nerd, gets envious titty slaps.
Veronica - Titty Tomboy, gets envious titty slaps.
Lyra/Lucretia/Dracaena - Titty Brat, gets envious titty slaps.

Ginny: *hic* "Lookatcha, jush...jush shwinin' around doshe udders! Why docha' jush moo?!"
Ronnie: "Now, there's an idea..."

Also, this is Cho Chang Erasure. She's the Jade Beauty of the cast.
 
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According to Ginevra 'Ginny' Weasley:

Hermione - Titty Nerd, gets envious titty slaps.
Veronica - Titty Tomboy, gets envious titty slaps.
Lyra/Lucretia/Dracaena - Titty Brat, gets envious titty slaps.

Ginny: *hic* "Lookatcha, jush...jush shwinin' around doshe udders! Why docha' jush moo?!"
Ronnie: "Now, there's an idea..."

Also, this is Cho Chang Erasure. She's the Jade Beauty of the cast.
Makes me think of Ginny as Megumin bullying and titty slapping the other girls in Harry's harem.
 
Makes me think of Ginny as Megumin bullying and titty slapping the other girls in Harry's harem.

I dunno, I think it's funnier if it's Hermione doing it. Just her with her big bushy hair pouting and angrily slapping bigger titties.

You could genderbend Ginny into Virgil. The only boy of the Weasleys. He has a thing for older girls with big boobs.
 
I dunno, I think it's funnier if it's Hermione doing it. Just her with her big bushy hair pouting and angrily slapping bigger titties.

You could genderbend Ginny into Virgil. The only boy of the Weasleys. He has a thing for older girls with big boobs.
That would also be great and with the way she treated Fleur in the books it would really be funny(to me anyway) if they got together.
That said i have seen some fics that calls Ginny out for the way she(and everyone else) behaved to Fleur but none that does the same for Hermione. Does anyone know of any.
 
I dunno, I think it's funnier if it's Hermione doing it. Just her with her big bushy hair pouting and angrily slapping bigger titties.

You could genderbend Ginny into Virgil. The only boy of the Weasleys. He has a thing for older girls with big boobs.

To be honest, Ginny fully expecting to grow into the busty tomboy archetype or subverting it into being the princess type to one-up Ron only to end up as the pettanko would be funny in itself, especially if Ron and Hermione were nothing special before puberty smacked them with a beater's bat.

Hermione: *stretching* "God, I wonder if Ronnie knows any support charms. A bra is just so uncomfortable in this heat..."
Ginny: *grinds teeth and seethes*

Malfoy, on the other hand, seethes because the know-it-all and the Weasel have effectively negated her best assets and leveled the playing field.
 
A different (and somewhat serious) take:
Content Warning: MtF transformation.

---​

The first time he'd met her had been during his stay at The Leaky Cauldron during the summer before his third year.

He'd just gotten into is room after a round of shopping for Hogwarts supplies, when he heard sound of the door closing behind him, followed by a latch clicking in place,

Whirling around in shock, he was surprised to find a blonde haired girl in a frilled dress who looked to be roughly his age. She was breathing heavily and staring at the door like there was a monster behind it (which in Harry's experience was depressingly likely). He then watched as she moved her head so that her ear was pressed against the room's door; still seemingly not having registered that she wasn't alone in the room.

It's then he heard the sound of heavy, quick, and purposeful footsteps coming from the hallway outside. They stopped for a long moment, as if whoever is out there was examining his surroundings, before continuing on; eventually fading as the being clearly decided it's prey(?) was elsewhere.

There was silence for another long moment, before the girl slowly let out a sigh of relief.

"Are-" Harry began.

Before he could go any further, she starts while letting out a strangled squeak. One that Harry would have called 'adorable', if not for the circumstances. She then whirled on him, wand drawn; only to freeze as she registered who she's looking at.

"-Are you alright, Miss?" Harry continued. "Do you need help?"

"P-potter!? I-... that is-" She began, her face; which had been pale with fright before, now going bright red.

"Don't worry about me." He quickly waved her off; having suspected that she was worried about having barged in on the 'Boy Who Lived'. "Do you need me to call an Auror?"

"No!" She half shouted, before wincing and repeating herself more quietly. "No. They... would only make things worse."

He frowned, but nodded; unfortunately knowing how that goes. "Alright. Is there any way I could help?"

She laughed; one that would have sounded haughty if not for the tinge of desperation in it. "The great Harry Potter; always eager to save the day, huh?"

He couldn't help but make a face at that. "I don't like seeing people in trouble; especially not when I can help."

"Yeah, well unfortunately there's nothing you can do to help me." She told him with a huff, turning her head to the side as she did. "Not unless you've somehow figured out how to convince a stubborn old man to change his mind."

At that, Harry couldn't help but let out a bark of laughter. "Believe me; if I knew how to do that my life would be much simpler."

She turned to him curiously for a moment, before realization finally seemed to strike. "Oh, right; Professor Snape."

"Among others." He agreeded with a sigh. "Seems like everyone had already decided who I was before I even got to Hogwarts."

She seemed to wince at that, before a grudgingly commiserating look appears on her face. "For what it's worth, I know what that's like."

He smiled slightly, causing her face to redden again.

He then paused, as he finally remembered his manners. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've properly met. I'm Harry Potter; Harry to my friends."

Another wince. "I'm... Lyra! Lyra Malfoy." She finally responded; a touch to quickly and with a noticable tremor in her voice.

"Nice to meet you, Lyra." He said; a bit surprised (mostly that he actually meant it). "Any relation to-"

"-I... don't want to talk about... them." She declared, turning her head to the side. "Suffice it to say; Father would rather I be like... Draco than myself."

"Is that why I haven't seen you around Hogwarts?"

"Father only wants Draco to be seen at Hogwarts." She explained with a scowl. "... or anywhere." She finishes.

"What about your mother?" Harry asks, before he can stop himself.

"I don't want to talk about it." Lyra repeats with a glare.

"Sorry, sorry!" The boy quickly says. "I just..."

"Just what?" She demanded with a raised eyebrow.

"I understand what it's like to be hated for not being what others want." He explained; not looking at her, and having thereby missed her full-body twitch at his words. "My muggle relatives would rather I be 'normal', most of Wizarding Brittan would rather I be some kind of gallant hero, and the rest would rather I not exist at all. Practically no one wants to just let me be me." He scowled. "And the worst thing is, everyone tells me that I should 'get over it' because 'I'm famous'. Like being famous ever did anything but make people expect things of me."

He turned back to see the blond girl staring at him open-mouthed; face red once-again.

Not that it lasted long, as she quickly turned away. "M-maybe you do understand." She declared, once more trying for a the haughty tone that Draco often uses. He couldn't help but find it oddly endearing. "At least partly, anyway."

"Anyway, sorry if I've made this awkward." He offered, a touch sheepishly.

"Only-" She begins, before a chiming noise echoed from somewhere on her person, causing her to blanch. "Ah- I- I need to be going."

"Oh, um..." Harry stammered, feeling his own cheeks heat up. "G-goodbye, then. It was nice meeting you."

"It was... tolerable meeting you as well." She agreed, once more trying to be haughty, but clearly anxious to leave. "Until we meet again."

And with that Lyra Malfoy runs out the door.

She had to find someplace to change back before the potion wore off People would talk if they saw Draco Malfoy in a dress and makeup, after all.

---​

AN: Surprise! (or perhaps not) 'Malfoid' via a classic (albeit trans) Draco.

Edit: on reflection, decided to add a Content Warning.
 
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The Play's the Thing! New
Eh, fair; you do you.

Fair, you do you.


---

The announcement went up on the notice board in the Entrance Hall on a Tuesday morning, written in Professor Flitwick's neat hand and already surrounded by a cluster of students before breakfast had properly ended. The Adventures of Merlin, it read. A Hogwarts production, generously funded by Lucius Malfoy in his capacity as a patron of the dramatic arts. Auditions would be held that weekend. The plot, such as it was, concerned Merlin's efforts to rescue the Lady Guinevere from the clutches of Morgan le Fay, with the timely assistance of King Arthur.

Harry had not auditioned. He had, in fact, been in the library at the time, attempting to finish an essay on Goblin rebellions while Ron complained about the length of it and Hermione annotated her own copy in the margins. When the cast list appeared two days later, his name was at the top of it in the same neat hand: Merlin. Beneath it, Ron Weasley as Arthur. Hermione Granger as Guinevere. Lyra Malfoy as Morgan le Fay. Cedric Diggory, in smaller letters, as the Dragon.

Hermione read the list twice, then a third time, as if the words might rearrange themselves under sufficient scrutiny. "I auditioned for Merlin!" she said. Her voice was very level. "I prepared a speech! I had notes on the historical inconsistencies! And they've given me the helpless captive!"

"You did say the source material was riddled with chauvinism," Ron offered, not entirely helpfully.

"That does not mean I wished to embody it!" She folded her arms. "I will play the part. I will play it properly. But I reserve the right to mutter about the structural problems between scenes!"

"What are you complaining about?" Harry asked, "I didn't even audition!"

"Well, well, well," Lyra laughed, walking up to Harry with a smirk, "I see we'll be on opposite sides in this play."

Harry scowled at her.

"Yeah? I didn't even want it!"

"But now you have it," Lyra smirked, and leaned forward. She grabbed his tie and pulled him close, their foreheads nearly touching. "So you'd better do your best, or I'll humiliate you in front of the entire school, Potter."

Potter glared back. He grabbed her hands, and pulled them away from his tie. Pink touched her ears and cheeks-Her eyes were wide.

"Don't worry-I will," he growled.

"G-Good," Lyra managed. She turned and walked off, Pansy and Daphne following her. Harry glared after her.

Hermione and Ron flanked him. Ron cleared his throat.

"You... Do realize there's a love scene between Merlin and Morgan, right?"

Harry's eyes widened and his cheeks went red.

"Wait, what?!"

Hermione sighed.

"Don't you do any of the assigned reading?"
 
Hermione read the list twice, then a third time, as if the words might rearrange themselves under sufficient scrutiny. "I auditioned for Merlin!" she said. Her voice was very level. "I prepared a speech! I had notes on the historical inconsistencies! And they've given me the helpless captive!"
Ron: Plus Merlin didn't have tits like you do as small as they are.
Harry: Don't worry Hermione i'm sure one day you won't have the body of a pre teen boy.
 
Flirt 3 New
The study room on the third floor smelled faintly of old wood and the lemon oil the house-elves used on the tables. A single floating lamp burned between them, its light warm against the cooler grey that filtered through the high, narrow window. Behind Ron and Hermione, a living portrait of jugglers and clowns conducted an ongoing war. One side hurled painted balls with theatrical fury; the other caught them and returned them with exaggerated dignity. Every so often the frame rattled when a particularly forceful toss struck the edge. Neither of them paid it much attention. They had grown used to the portrait's hostilities.

Ron had a doughnut in one hand and a half-finished essay on the Goblin rebellions in the other, a bag of more donuts resting on the table to his right. Sugar clung to his thumb. Hermione looked up and to her left from her notes, frowned at the doughnuts, and set her quill down with deliberate care.

"You are not supposed to bring food in here."

"I'm keeping my strength up," Ron said around a bite. Crumbs scattered onto his parchment. "Who knows what's going to happen this year?"

"What do you mean?"

He swallowed and gestured vaguely with the remaining half of the doughnut. "I mean we had that attack at the Quidditch World Cup, we've got a gigantic Triwizard Tournament where people might die, and apparently Malfoy fancies Harry. Things are mad. And on top of all that, somebody's probably going to try and kill him again."

The portrait's frame gave a small, indignant rattle as a paint rotary cannon opened up on the jugglers from the clown side. Hermione's mouth tightened. "Ron, surely you're just being paranoid—"

He stared at her. The doughnut hovered, forgotten. She flushed, looked down at her parchment, and mumbled something that might have been an apology.

"Well," she said, more clearly, "I mean… maybe it won't happen this year?"

Ron's expression did not change.Hermione sighed, the sound small in the quiet room.

"Oh, fine. You're right that there is a pattern."

"I'm right?"

"Yes, you're right."

"…Can I get that engraved? Forever?"

Hermione scowled.

"Shut up, Ron. It's just this one instance."

"It's still a win."

"It's not a competition," Hermione hissed. Ron smirked.

"Oh? Then why are you mad?"

"Hmph!"

The door opened hard enough to interrupt the portrait's latest exchange and there was a lull in the fighting as jugglers and clowns stared at the newcomer. Pansy Parkinson strode in, the hem of her robes snapping, and dropped into the chair across from them. She rapped her knuckles once on the tabletop. The sound was sharp.

"All right, Weasel. Granger."

"Hey," Ron protested.

"I don't like you, you don't like me, but Potter finally got some sense and we're not bloody squandering it. So. What's our game plan?"

Ron blinked. Sugar still clung to the corner of his mouth. "Game plan? For what?"

"Ugh. For the date."

"I mean… uh… well, you see, that was just a pr—"

Hermione's heel came down on his foot with decisive force. The impact traveled up his shin. Ron's hand flew to his mouth. The sound he made was not quite a yelp and not quite a curse, somewhere in between. Hermione picked up the remaining half of his doughnut—still warm, still shedding sugar—and pushed it between his teeth before he could recover his voice.

"Ron," she said, brightly, as if they were discussing the weather, "you should finish those before they get cold. You also shouldn't talk with your mouth full. Right?"

He stared at her over the doughnut, wounded and muffled, eyes wide with betrayal. He nodded because there was nothing else to do. The doughnut tasted suddenly of injustice. Hermione turned back to Pansy. Her smile was fixed and did not reach her eyes.

"Harry has prepared extensively for the date," she said. "He has a number of ideas that he will swap to depending on the situation."

Pansy's eyebrows rose. She leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Really? He's planned this?"

"Yes."

Hermione did not look at Ron. Ron looked at her anyway, doughnut compressed between his teeth, expression somewhere between outrage and awe. In the portrait, a paint ball completed its arc and struck a clown squarely in the painted nose. The clown did not react. He appeared to be sulking.

"I thought he made it up as he went along," Pansy said.

"He is a master of improvisation," Hermione explained, "but he's getting better at long-term planning."

"Finally. Honestly, how could he miss her hints for all this time?"

Ron mouthed "Hints?!" around the doughnut, but keen not to attract Hermione's wrath again, he wisely abstained from further comment.

"Some men require that you be more direct." Hermione's quill hovered over a fresh sheet of parchment she'd pulled from her bag. The nib trembled once, then steadied. "However, I can ensure a great date experience if you give us some information on Malfoy's preferences."

Pansy leaned back. The chair creaked. "Right. She will deny it to her dying breath if you ask, but she loves animals."

"The Buckbeak situation?" Hermione asked dryly. Pansy winced just a bit.

"She did try to get her father to reverse the decision, you know. She gave Hagrid an apology letter for it."

Hermione was quiet for a moment. The lamp hissed softly. She remembered the hippogriff's pen, the way Lyra had stood very still afterward, pale and tight around the mouth, not gloating. "…Yes. I suppose she did look mostly sad over it. If she'd gloated, I'd have knocked her teeth out."

Ron made a noise around the doughnut that might have been commentary on justice, or on Buckbeak, or on the general unfairness of having one's foot stomped in the middle of a study session. Pansy ignored him.

"Look, the point is, a stop at the pet shop wouldn't hurt. She won't buy anything, but she likes to cuddle. Keep in mind, though—she hates snakes."

Ron and Hermione both stared. The portrait's war paused again, as if the painted figures were listening. Ron swallowed his doughnut completely.

"What?" They both said.

"She does. Absolutely terrified of them. Why do you think she was so scared at the Dueling Club?"

Ron choked. He coughed, eyes watering, and managed, somehow, not to laugh out loud. The effort turned his ears red. Pansy's eyes narrowed to slits.

"And if you tell anyone, they'll never find your body, Weasley."

He swallowed audibly. "Not a soul. Not a soul."

"He's trustworthy," Hermione said. Her quill moved again. "Next?"

"She does want to go to Madam Puddifoot's. She would prefer a private booth, though. Most couples go there just to show off. She's fine with the mood of the place, but she doesn't want to be gawked at. Also, Potter should know: order her honey lemon cakes. Never almond cakes. She hates those."

Hermione wrote in small, precise lines. "No gawking. No almond cakes. Got it. Anything else?"

Pansy considered the ceiling for a moment. "Well. If Potter could wear green… she loves it when he's in green. Brings out his eyes."

Hermione's quill paused. Ink beaded at the tip. "She likes his eyes?"

"She goes on and on about them. Endlessly." Pansy rolled her own. "Day in, day out. 'Oh, if only he wore a green scarf he'd be so much more handsome.' Anyway. You got all that, or do you need me to repeat myself?"

"No, no. I've got it."

"Good." Pansy stood. She smoothed her robes with a brisk motion. "Pleasure doing business with you. And tell Potter if he screws this up, he's answering to me."

She left. The door closed with a decisive click. In the portrait, a clown successfully beaned a juggler with a painted ball and looked pleased with himself. The juggler retaliated by juggling three balls at once and unleashing them like a madchine gun into the clown's face, sending him falling into other clowns below into a messy, angry pile.

Ron turned to Hermione. Doughnut crumbs clung to his chin. His expression sat somewhere between betrayal and reluctant awe.

"…Hermione. You're not seriously considering this, are you? It was a prank."

Hermione capped her ink. She did not look up at once. The lamp hummed. Outside, the wind pressed harder against the window.

"Not to Malfoy, clearly."

Ron stared at her. "But… this is Malfoy. You know? The racist who called you Mudblood?"

"Yes." Hermione's voice was quiet. "I know. But looking back… I think she was so angry with me because she was jealous. That I was close to Harry."

Ron was silent for a moment. The portrait's war continued, muffled by glass and paint. "And… you can forgive that?"

"I mean, not the racism." She met his eyes at last. "But did you see the way she's been acting? Not… So much her? Maybe we can bring out more of that, instead of her being a brat."

"Or maybe she's just counter-pranking us."

"Do you really think she would do that, given her past? And besides… What do you think she'll do to us if she finds out it was a prank?"

Ron considered the table. Sugar glittered on the wood between them. "…Okay. Good point."

"Hmph," Hermione was smug, "One for me."

"I thought it wasn't a competition."

"It—it wasn't until you made it one."

"Sure, sure. Just because you were losing."

"I was not!"
 
Damn now when we really think about it

Female Malfoy really makes the series better, like the Male version looks incomplete

I am really interested on how it would affect real world, like if HP was always written with Malfoid then I feel there would be alot more romance and more enemies to lovers examples in Pop Culture for kids and teen books as well, much more than we have. We wont just have long term friendship but slowburn romance as well
 

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