Drarry Oneshots 2

Trick or Treat

Top!Harry

Bottom!Draco

Summary: Harry had no idea that he was such a fetishist - a fact which he discovers on Halloween.

Author: amorette ( on live journal) 

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Halloween was never a happy holiday for Harry. While some people anticipated the chilly nip of autumn, to Harry, the cold felt bleak and dead. While others thrilled at the crunch of fallen leaves under their feet, Harry became agitated by the noise, the sound harsh and threatening to his ears. The whole idea that on this one night every year, spirits rose from their graves and came back to walk among the living sent shivers up Harry's spine. He wanted to snuggle up close to the fire and imagine better days, filled with warmth and sunshine, when the air outside was breathable again. The cold air of October was never breathable; it was filled with the scent of rotting foliage and of the coming winter, reminding him that many of the people important to him were buried in the frozen, hard earth.

During this particular Halloween, however, he was distracted. By the time the sun set for the evening, he had forgotten most of his nagging worries and had started to become eager for the night to begin. With a sense of giddy anticipation making his heart beat against his chest, Harry entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween Dance raged.

He turned to Ron next to him, who was dressed in all green as a leprechaun. "How funny is it going to be when Malfoy gets here?" Harry asked, grinning broadly.

"Pretty fucking hilarious," Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Do you reckon he'll really go through with it, though?"

"Well, he better had!" Harry exclaimed, raising his brows in emphasis. "I caught the snitch fair and square. If he didn't want to wear it, he shouldn't have lost."

"Well said! But you know Malfoy, he could find a way to wriggle out of it."

Harry doubted it; Malfoy had sworn to keep his part of the bargain. Too many people had witnessed both their bet and their impending Seeker's Game, braving the cold with gloves and scarves so they could cheer on. Harry reflected that, for once in their lives, Malfoy's friends and his friends stood side by side, mingling together in a single group as they shared the neutral ground of the Hufflepuff stand. The whole thing was a challenge disguised as a truce, and it everyone knew it. If Malfoy back out on the bet, he'd be breaking something unspoken and fragile.

Harry himself was dressed as a Muggle businessman, in a tailored black suit and red tie. The soft wool of the charcoal grey fabric felt nice against his skin; he was not accustomed to wearing expensive clothing, but he could now afford it. When he was at Hogsmeade earlier in the day purchasing his outfit, he had debated also buying a top hat and cane. After better consideration, he realized that not many of his Wizarding classmates would pick up on the reference to a gangster, so it would only inspire confused looks. Also, Ron had mentioned that his carrying a cane would be creepy, because it reminded him of Lucius Malfoy. After that comment, Harry had gagged a little bit, and then he dropped the idea immediately.

"If he shows up here in anything but a girl's uniform, I will personally drag his snooty arse back to the dungeons."

Ron laughed, but his eyes looked soft and thoughtful. "He hasn't been all that snooty this year. Haven't you noticed?"

Harry raised his brows. "Are you actually defending Malfoy? Is the world coming to an end?"

"I'm not defending him!" Ron said, raising his hands with his palms out. "I still think he's a ferrety git. But you have to admit, he has been a lot less git-like since being allowed back."

Despite himself, Harry could not help shrugging a shoulder in grudging agreement. "I suppose so. He's probably been trying to look grateful. As he should!" he added more forcefully.

Hermione trotted over to them from the refreshment table, weaving her way through the mass of people in ridiculous costumes. She carried one glass of bright red punch in her hand, two others floating closely. Along with them, her wavy hair bounced behind her, out of which stuck two black, furry ears. She also had three black lines painted onto each of her cheeks, like whiskers.

"Here you are," she said with a smile. "It's supposed to mimic blood, I suppose," she said while Harry and Ron picked the drinks out of the air. "There were also jelly eyeballs... which looked suspiciously like real eyeballs, so I didn't want to chance it."

Ron grimaced, his lips twisted in a disgusted frown. "Yes, good decision," he said.

Hermione lowered her voice and added, "Don't tell anyone, but there is a rumour going around that Seamus and Dean have sneaked some Firewhiskey in!" She arched a single brow in distinct disapproval. "Honestly, there are underaged children here," she continued with an exasperated sigh. "Couldn't they have saved that for back in the tower, in the privacy of their own dorm?"

Harry glanced at Ron and saw that he was looking at him with both eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. Both of them smiled, and Harry knew that they had made an unspoken agreement to go in search of Seamus and Dean as soon as humanly possible; meaning, as soon as Hermione was thoroughly distracted.

"Well, well," said a deep, smooth voice. "If it isn't the heroes of the Wizarding World."

Harry turned to see Blaise Zabini standing behind him with a smirk on his face. He was dressed in a traditional warlock's robes, looking smug as usual.

"Who are you dressed as?" Harry asked. "Merlin?"

Zabini lowered his head looked at Harry through his eyelashes, as if Harry were stupid. "Loads of people are going to be Merlin tonight; there is no way I would throw myself in with the masses."

"What are you, then?" Hermione chirped, hands on her hips.

With a sigh, Zabini drawled, "Salazar Slytherin. Obviously."

"Very imaginative," Harry said, glancing at the snake detail on the chain that held the front of Zabini's robe together. "I can't imagine anyone wanting to be him tonight. Only, you know, the entirety of his house."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you," Zabini said lightly.

"Is there something you want," Ron asked, "or were you just aiming to be annoying?"

"Actually," Zabini said with a smirk, "I came over here to congratulate Potter."

"On?" For a moment Harry thought Zabini was going to thank him for "winning the war", or something equally unnecessary and embarrassing.

Surprisingly, Zabini said smoothly, "For putting Malfoy in his place."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Oh... er...." Not knowing exactly how to respond, he simply said, "No problem?"

"When I left the dungeons, he was still swearing the place down." Zabini's smirk turned into quiet, controlled snickering.

Even though Harry found himself grinning, the thought of Malfoy's frustration being extremely satisfying, he saw that Hermione was frowning.

"I think the war put him in his place well enough," she said, "and what you all are doing now is nothing short of childish."

"To be honest, Granger," Zabini interjected, "Malfoy more or less asked for it."

"I agree," Ron said with a grin, nodding. "He was the one who told Harry that he had lost his touch in Quidditch. Completely uncalled for, if you ask me."

"And Harry was the one who believed him," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.

"Oi!" said Harry. "He was provoking me on purpose!" He sounded slightly pathetic even to himself as the words left his lips, but he just smiled sheepishly and added, "I really didn't have a choice but to teach him a lesson." He heard Ron and Zabini chuckling quietly to themselves and knew that he had supporters in this sentiment.

"Are you still fifteen?" Hermione asked, pursing her lips.

Her expression made him feel a tinge of guilt. He frowned and murmured under his breath, "No."

He supposed that she was right; it was slightly immature of him to get sucked into a petty bet with Malfoy. They should be past teasing each other and having stupid arguments. Worst of all, Harry worried about harbouring a secret sadistic streak... what with the outfit he had demanded Malfoy wear.

Still, he couldn't help the tiny smile that curled his lips even as he imagined it.

Hermione was looking over his shoulder, towards the entrance to the Great Hall, with wide eyes. She put a hand to her mouth trying to suppress an obvious giggle, but the shrill sound escaped her nonetheless. "Oh, my goodness," she said, trying to keep her smiling lips pressed tightly together. "Is that... Is that Malfoy, there?"

Harry turned, and what he saw made his breath catch in his throat. Near the huge doors of the entrance stood Draco Malfoy, wearing, as he'd promised, a Slytherin girl's school uniform. Harry's heart almost stopped as his eyes raked over Malfoy's body, taking in every detail.

On his feet, Malfoy wore plain black shoes with a rounded toe, and he wore stockings - sheer stockings that called Harry's eye up the long line of Malfoy's legs, where they were trimmed with lace at the top of the thigh. And sweet Merlin, Malfoy was wearing a garter! The straps hooked onto the stockings, ran over the exposed sliver of pale skin at the top, and disappeared underneath a pleated skirt. The pattern was tartan, with silver and green stripes... and it was much too short to be decent, Harry thought as his throat reflexively swallowed. Tucked into the skirt was a very tight, white buttoned girl's top, which fitted awkwardly, but snugly, to Malfoy's torso. The top buttons were undone, and the sleeves were short and puffy in that flirty, girly way. It made Harry's spine tingle with nerves.

The thing that caught Harry most off guard, however, was Malfoy's hair; Malfoy had magically grown it out until it grazed his shoulders. It was parted to one side, running along Malfoy's cheeks in striking platinum-blond strands.

"Close your mouth, Potter," Zabini said from next to him, jolting Harry back from his gaping stare. He glared at Zabini when he saw the smug look on his face, with those raised eyebrows and that infuriating smirk. Harry did close his mouth, his jaw tight.

"Bloody fuck," Ron said, also gaping at Malfoy.

Malfoy was making his way straight toward them, and Harry's heart inexplicably sped up. He stood up straighter, and he suddenly felt the need to smooth down his suit in case it had wrinkled. As Malfoy got closer, Harry had to force himself to keep his eyes on Malfoy's face and not on his legs, which were mesmerizing in their movement underneath the hem of the skirt. With an inconvenient burning sensation in his groin, Harry reflected that the skirt was so short that it could accidentally fly up at any time.

"How long am I supposed to wear this thing?" Malfoy asked immediately upon reaching them. The way he crossed his arms in front of his chest, and the way he jutted his hips to the side and made his skirt flare, caused Harry to seriously reconsider the hilarity of this outfit choice. As it turned out, he wasn't finding it at all funny.

"All night," Ron answered. "Those were the terms of the bet - the loser wears the winner's choice of outfit for the entire night. That means," he added, his grin growing wide, "you're stuck in that skirt, Malfoy, whether you like it or not."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, which were framed by very long, blond lashes. Had Malfoy always had long lashes? Maybe it was the new hairstyle which caused Harry to take notice. It also highlighted the delicate point of Malfoy's chin. The new length framed his face well and softened it considerably.

His attitude, however, was still the same. Malfoy looked at Ron as if he had finally noticed him. "This," he said with only the hint of a sneer tugging at his lips, nodding at Ron's clothing, "is absolutely priceless. Ha! A leprechaun?"

Placing both his thumbs into the braces that ran along his shirt, Ron puffed out his chest and smiled. "I've got the coloring for it, don't you think?"

Harry did not expect Malfoy's reaction. He would never have guessed that Malfoy would pass up the opportunity for a jibe. However, Malfoy only smiled primly, as if he was holding it back, scared of showing a positive emotion. Harry considered slapping himself when he thought of Malfoy's smile as sweet. It was definitely the hair....

"Did you transfigure your own uniform into that one?" Hermione asked Malfoy, her tone not the least bit mocking. In fact, she seemed seriously interested, staring at his clothes with wide, curious eyes. "If you did transfigure it, that is very impressive."

Malfoy smiled tightly, his lips a thin line. "No, I couldn't be bothered. This is one of Pansy's."

Hermione raised a brow and said, "It looks a bit small, even for her."

"She took a wand to it, trying to fit it to me better. But she ended up shrinking it," Malfoy said, looking down at himself with a shrug. Then he scanned Hermione's body and asked, "What are you? A gerbil?"

Looking affronted, Hermione mirrored Malfoy's stance by crossing her arms and jutting a foot out. "I'm a cat."

"Oh? Where's your tail, then?" Malfoy asked with a light chuckle. With that, he sauntered off and left the four of them staring after him.

"Is it me," Ron asked, "or is he swinging his hips?"

"He's swinging them," Zabini said.

"He's worse as a girl," Hermione muttered under her breath. "He's bitchier."

Harry turned to her instantly and asserted, a bit too loudly, "He's not a girl!"

All three of them turned to look at him.

"Sorry!" Hermione said, pursing her lips. "I didn't know you were so sensitive about him."

Harry felt his cheeks heat up. "I am not!" He looked wildly among the three of them, who looked at him with confusion on their faces.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked softly.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to make his heartbeat normal again. "Yeah, fine," he said, hoping that he sounded as reassuring as possible. He assumed he failed when Hermione continued to look at him through squinted eyes, as if her brain was working something out.

"Let's go find Seamus," Harry said, turning to Ron. "I think I need that drink."

Ron nodded and took a step, but he hesitated and turned to look back at Zabini. "You coming?" he asked.

Zabini stood perfectly still, but his mouth threatened to break into a smile. Not a smirk, but a genuine, happy smile, which was only broken by his obvious effort to keep his face as expressionless as possible. Tentatively, he asked, "A drink?"

"Yeah, hurry up if you're coming, for Merlin's sake," Ron said, waving once in their direction.

Harry was always surprised at his friend's ability to forgive, despite all circumstances. When he saw Zabini nod once and begin walking with them, something inside Harry's chest swelled with pride. He decided right then that he wanted to be more like Ronald Weasley, who possibly had a bigger heart than he and Hermione combined.