Like a House on Fire

"Have you heard the news?"

"What news?"

"Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were seen snogging in the hall!"

"What?? He can't be! They can't be!"

"I know. My heart is breaking!"

*****

Charms was unpleasant for Harry. Usually it was a reasonably enjoyable class, but he couldn't stop thinking about what Draco was going to make him do next. His mind kept running through all the awful things he could imagine. The class seemed to end very quickly and Harry couldn't decide whether he was relieved or annoyed about this. It all depended on perspective.

His heart pounded in his rib-cage as he made his way up to the Astronomy Tower. Would Draco be there when he came? He didn't want this to be dragged out longer than it had to.

Then again, he thought, trying to make himself feel better, What could be worse than this outfit?

He din't want to think about it.

Reaching the door of the room he and Draco met in, he let himself in. It was empty. Again, Harry couldn't decide whether he was relieved or annoyed. Shortly after he had settled himself in a chair, Draco struggled in, lugging a large bag behind him. Harry shuddered. This was not good.

"Hello there, Harry. Fancy meeting you here!" Draco said with false cheer.

"What have you got for me this time?" Harry asked tiredly.

"That's a surprise!" Draco was sickeningly smug. "Hey, thankyou for helping me pass Potions."

Harry seethed. "You deserve to be shot," he snapped.

"You were the one who flubbed the potion, it's only fair that you be marked on it," Draco retorted.

Harry stared. "That is possibly the screwiest logic I have ever heard!" he said, astounded.

"I try," Draco said modestly. He thrust the bag at Harry. "There you go, your new look. Green is not your colour. Makes your skin look sallow."

Harry slowly opened the bag as Draco looked on in amusement.

His first impression was of pink frills. He choked.

It was a pink taffeta party dress. Ribbons adorned the puff sleeves and the neckline. There were bows everywhere. There was a lace underskirt just showing under the scalloped hemline.

"Malfoy, this is going way, way too far. There is no way I'm wearing this thing anywhere."

"Oh, really?" was Draco's only comment.

"This is just so wrong on too many levels, Malfoy."

"I know," said Draco proudly.

Harry was desperate. "Malfoy," he pleaded. "Please. Anything but taffeta."

Draco gave him an odd look. Then he smiled. "Okay Potter, I'll show you the option."

He fished around in his voluminous robe and brought out a white T-Shirt that looked like it had been made to fit an 8 year old. Following that, he brought out tight black pants, black leather gloves and a spiked dog collar.
Harry swallowed hard. Well, at least they're... male clothes, he thought desperately.

Draco held up the shirt and Harry had a chance to read the writing.

"Draco Malfoy's Bitch??" he said incredulously. "Okay, why do you even have shirts that say that?"

Draco shrugged. "They're in demand. Lavender Brown sleeps in hers."

Harry made a mental note to yell at Lavender.

"How do you know what Lavender sleeps in?" Harry demanded.

Draco gave him a look. "Hm... maybe because I've slept with her?"

Harry really didn't need to know that.

"Hurry up and choose," Draco said, gesturing to the two outfits.

Harry looked at them.

The pink taffeta was girlish, frilly and pink. Its only redeeming point was that it was loose, a welcome break after the horribly tight tights.

However, the... other outfit was tight, spiky and hell, it said 'Draco Malfoy's Bitch' on it!

Harry collapsed back into the chair.

"I give up," he muttered. "Which one do you prefer?" he asked Draco, curious.

Draco smiled widely and wandered over to perch himself on the arm of the chair. Harry shifted over to get as far from Draco as he could.

"I won't say," he announced smugly, "Because then I know you'll choose the other one, just to be a pest."

Bloody smug git, Harry thought grouchily.

"Then I won't choose," Harry said.

"But you have to!" Draco returned. "Take all the time you want, though."

Draco got up off the edge of the chair and resettled himself on Harry's lap. Harry squirmed, trying to unseat the blonde boy, but Draco just laughed.

"Sit still, Harry," he purred, once again wearing that malicious smirk.

Harry tried to sink into the chair. Draco's weight on his lap was surprisingly warm. He closed and then reopened his eyes only to be confronted by Draco's face about three inches from his own. Draco's eyes caught his but Harry could read nothing in their depths except a lust for power and a frightening hint of dementia.

Unconsciously, Harry's hand gripped Draco's. Draco smiled with his mouth and brought the other hand up to run one slender finger along Harry's jaw; Harry didn't know if it was resignation or confusion which stopped him from protesting this action. Draco's smile widened. He freed his other arm from Harry's grasp and brought it up to cup Harry's cheek.

Harry stared, mute, into those frightening eyes, drowning in the hypnotic blankness which radiated from them. As if behind glass, he watched Draco part his lips slightly and lean toward him.

The glass shattered abruptly when their lips touched. Draco's warmth spread from his lips throughout his body, melding with the warmth that originated where Draco sat. It infused his entire being with a tingling burning sensation. Almost involuntarily, he jerked. Draco pulled back slightly.

"I'd go with the second outfit," Draco whispered silkily in Harry's ear, his lips brushing like a feather over the sensitive earlobe. "After all, it's true, isn't it?"

With that Draco rose in one sinuous movement and swept out of the room. It took several minutes for Draco's words to sink in. "After all, it's true, isn't it?"

What's true? Harry wondered. Then he realised. The shirt.

Shaking off unexpected lethargy, he leapt to his feet.

"I am not Draco Malfoy's Bitch!" he shouted at the walls.

I am not Draco Malfoy's Bitch! Harry thought again, thrusting the second outfit away from him.

Slipping quickly out of his robes, he stood in his briefs and stared at the dress.

We'll... see how it looks on... he thought.

He stepped into it and pulled it up. Or tried to. It stuck around his hips and wouldn't go any higher.

"Malfoy, you're really cutting down my options here," he muttered to himself.

"Sorry, if I knew you'd be packing in the pudding, I would have had it let out," came that smug voice from the doorway.

Harry whirled around. "Rack off, Malfoy," he snapped.

Draco ignored him and sauntered back into the room. Teasingly, he poked a bit of the exposed flesh of Harry's belly.

"I assumed you were roughly the same size as me," Draco said as Harry recoiled from his cold finger.

"I doubt this dress would even fit you," Harry snapped his eyes traveling scathingly up and down Draco's physique.

Draco glared. "It would!" He gestured imperiously for Harry to hand it to him.

Somewhat reluctant to give up his only cover, Harry complied and then quickly reached for the leather pants.

Draco laughed. "You're not going to be able to wear those over briefs," he said with a smirk. "You looked funny enough with the tights over them. The panty-line was horrendous! You'll either have to go commando or find a thong."

Harry froze. "No way, Malfoy,"

Draco smiled sweetly, putting Harry in mind of the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. "Oh yes way, Potter."

Harry snarled and put down the leather pants. Draco had resumed shucking off his clothes and as he bent over to step into the dress, Harry was graced with a very tasty view of the other boy's backside. He shuddered. There was something inherently wrong with thinking of any part of Draco's body as tasty.

"Do me up, Potter," came the smarmy command as Draco slipped the dress over his own slim hips with ease.

Muttering, Harry pulled the zipper up. Draco turned around and struck a pose.

"Couldn't get it on eh, Potter?" he laughed, smugly.

Draco settled himself into the chair, narcissistically arranging the frills and ruffles around himself.

Harry resolved not to give Draco the satisfaction of seeing him blush.

He knew from experience that Draco would ignore any request for privacy, but it didn't stop him from telling Draco hopefully to turn around.

When the expected cheerfully malicious refusal came, he sighed and turned around himself, quickly slipping out of his briefs and into the leather pants. The few moments he spent in the buff, between briefs and pants, he could feel Draco watching him. There was something wrong with having Draco ogling your butt.

The leather chafed horrendously and he found himself wishing for any kind of underwear... including a thong. There was something wrong in wishing for a thong.

At this point, Harry decided there was just something inherently wrong with the world.

Once he had the pants on, he slipped into the shirt, which just reached to the middle of his torso and was so tightly transparent it was like wearing nothing, Except that nothing didn't have 'Draco Malfoy's Bitch' splashed all over it, Harry thought sourly.

"Dashing," murmured Draco, who seemed to have amused himself by adding the rest of the unfortunate pink outfit to his costume, right down to the cutesy pink bow in his hair and the frilly white stockings and shiny black shoes.

Harry stomped over to sit down in the other chair in the room. He picked up the first of the knee length boots and proceeded to struggle into it.

"There's a zipper, dolt," Draco uncurled himself from his chair and came over to help Harry with the boot. There was indeed a zipper, and it made the application of the boots much, much easier.

As they struggled with the second boot, Draco's hand found its way to Harry's thigh. Harry froze before ignoring it and going back to pulling the boot on.

Draco zipped it up, his hand lingering behind Harry's knee before he leaned over to get the spiked dog collar. When Harry moved to take it from him, Draco held it out of reach and murmured 'Let me'. He stood up slowly and settled himself on Harry's lap. Harry, uncomfortably reminded of the last time Draco sat on his lap, only fifteen minutes ago, squirmed. He was told tartly to sit still.

Draco leaned forward, his breath caressing Harry's mouth, and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck to fasten the collar. Harry was tempted beyond all endurance by the proximity of the other boy, so fetchingly dressed up and blurring the boundaries of gender. It seemed natural to him to grab Draco's jaw and pull it towards him, closing the gap between their lips. As always, it was roaring need the moment their lips touched. Draco was pliant as Harry's hands roamed in his hair, sporadically grabbing handfuls of it, or weaving his fingers into little knots of the silky threads.

After an hour or a second, Harry couldn't tell which, the kiss broke. Harry stared into Draco's eyes, not moving. There he read the need for power and the dementia he had read before, but overlaying that was another emotion. Pure, unadulterated lust. He wondered if the blond boy could read the same thing in his eyes, because he knew it was there.

Slowly, as if any movement might cause him to shatter, Draco stood up. He stared at his reflection when he caught it in the mirror.

"Potter," he said raggedly. "Unzip me."

Harry stood up equally slowly. He made his way over to Draco, wobbling. He was uncertain whether it was the 6-inch stiletto heel or the hormones that cruised his bloodstream that made him unsteady but he suspected a mixture of both. He tried to pull down the zip to free Draco from the pink creation and failed. Tried again... and failed.

Suddenly he started laughing hysterically.

"Malfoy..." he said. "It's stuck!"

Draco blanched as much as was possible with his pale skin. "It's what??" he demanded.

"It's stuck," Harry repeated, laughing so hard his sides hurt.

Draco stared at him.

"Looks like this is the world's revenge on you for all your misdeeds." Harry exclaimed fancifully, clutching at the nearest object for support so that he didn't collapse with the hysteria that clutched him. "I guess you'll have to suffer the humiliation with me!"

The nearest object happened to be Draco's shoulder. Draco bore the brunt of Harry's hilarity stoically, fuming silently until waves of anger seemed to roll off him, crashing with the hysterical laughter Harry was producing.

"Shut your freaking trap, Potter, or I'll ram your wand up your arse!"