Moving Company

5. A Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing

Harry's suspicions about Draco's scheming proved to be fact when a bucket of icy cold water woke him from a blissful sleep early on Saturday morning.

"AHHHHHHHH!" Harry grasped for his glasses and looked into the smirking faces of Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, Montague and Derrick.

"What. The. Hell?!"

Draco nodded at Montague and Derrick who walked over to Harry, pulled him out of bed, and with a wave of a wand firmly tied his hands behind his back.

"Today you become a true Slytherin, so I decided we might as well do it right." Draco sounded quite smug and Harry tried to attack him, but the two seventh years held him tight.

"What do you mean "true" Slytherin?" Harry's eyes still flashed in anger, but he was slowly cooling off, having now realized that he wasn't in any real danger.

"Right now you are a Slytherin in Gryffindor's clothing."

Harry blinked, almost all the anger dissolving. He'd known that he was going shopping today.

"And by the end of the day you'll be a Slytherin in Slytherin's clothing. But before we can do that, we've got to do something about those horrid...things hanging in your closet that you insist on wearing. Accio! Accio! Accio! Accio!"

The doors to Harry's cupboard flew open and his muggle underclothing came flying out.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

Draco's innocent smile was truly chilling. "Why, we're burning them of course. No human should have to wear these things." He crinkled his nose. "Blaise, the door?"

Blaise nodded, and Draco lead the parade out of the room, followed by Harry's clothes, Harry (under the encouragement of the seventh years), Blaise, then Crabbe. As they reached the common room, there was general hooting and applause, it appears that Draco had gotten the whole House involved.

Everyone fell into line and Draco marched them out into the crisp morning air, the sun still rising; the morning dew having not yet evaporated. They went out near the lake where a pile of firewood lay ready to be lit. Harry watched as the clothes landed in a heap atop the pile.

Blaise stood up near Draco, and began to speak.

"When we got owls saying that people were to be re-Sorted, many of us were upset. We lost a good friend in Goyle, and we worried that those who came in might sully our name--even if those in other Houses do not truly understand what it means to be Slytherin."

Draco took over. "Surprisingly, Harry Potter did not protest when the Hat yelled out Slytherin. He didn't go running to Dumbledore, demanding to get Sorted one more time. He proved that he wouldn't be pushed around when he hexed Montague and Derrick his first morning in, and when he taught those irritating hypocrite Gryffindors a lesson on the first day that he taught a DADA class. He has even stood up for our House when his so- called friends attacked him. He's proven himself worthy of the name Slytherin."

The small crowd cheered loudly in agreement. Draco called for silence. Harry stood mute, eyes wide at the whole commotion, shocked but at the same time pleased to know that he'd been truly accepted into his new House--something that he never thought could happen.

"However. There is one lingering issue. His clothing. We can't have anyone representing us look so horrible. There is only one thing that can be done. The clothes must burn!" Draco cried gleefully. "Take one good last look at Harry Potter now, because when he gets back, he'll be a whole different Slytherin!"

Harry mewled. He'd later swear that he didn't, and luckily no one heard it because of all the cheering.

"INCINDIO!"

"INCINDIO!"

"INCINDIO!"

With the force of the three spells, the clothing and wood went up in a bright burst of flame. Watching in disbelief, Harry walked over to Draco, his two guards trailing behind. "What am I supposed to wear to breakfast?! And Hogsmeade!"

Draco grinned. "Those will work just fine. They show off your body quite nicely."

Harry blushed.

Blaise laughed. "Relax! This is supposed to be fun, so enjoy yourself! I guarantee this will be a day to go down in history!

* * *

One thing history books rarely mention is that a full stomach is a necessity for major event to successfully occur. With this knowledge (and growling stomachs), the Slytherins made their way back into the Great Hall in time for breakfast.

Because it was a Hogsmeade weekend, the hall was full of people eating up before making the trek out to town, so almost half the school got to watch as Harry was fed by a charmed fork and spoon, and toast that levitated itself so Harry could bite into it. His pleases to be allowed to feed himself were brushed aside, in favor of making loud conversation about plans for the day.

"Please tell me you're going to take lots of pictures! It sucks that we can't go," sulked a third year.

Crabbe held up his FlashQuick 2000 Wizarding Camera with built in timer-delayed lumos flash, auto focus, and automatic light adjustment so all pictures turned out perfect in the first shot. Everyone in the house knew about it because it had been Crabbe's favorite topic of conversation for the past week. "Of course I am! I already have a bunch from the wake up call and the bonfire."

Harry ducked his head. "Oh god."

Blaise slapped him on the back hard, nearly sending Harry sprawling into his bowl of oatmeal. "Cheer up. The pictures won't get passed around outside the House."

"Oh that comforts me so much." Harry groused.

Draco pretended to look shocked. "Is that sarcasm I detect?"

"You're rubbing off on him, Draco," someone commented from the other end of the table.

Draco replied good naturedly, "Perhaps I am, but I'm such a good influence, don't you think? Those Gryffindors wouldn't know good wit if it hit them like a jelly-legs curse!"

The lively banter continued across the long table, much to the amusement of the other Houses (who weren't used to such a cheery mood from that table), and from the Head Table itself, where Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall watched with various degrees of interest.

"Come on, Albus. Make them untie Harry, and get him some decent clothes." huffed McGonagall, clearly not amused by the way Harry was being treated.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Why would I do that, Minerva? That'd just break up the festive mood they have going." He sighed wistfully. "If only all the houses were so united."

"It appears I may have to add wandless magic to his studies," Snape added under his breath, even as he couldn't help but smirk at Harry's plight.

Dumbledore nodded slightly, then went back to his kippers, quite pleased with the way things were turning out.

* * *

It was a fine day to shop, and if Hogsmeade seemed quite busy, the inside of Mr. Kirkpatrick's Wizard Fashions for the Rich and Pureblooded looked like a muggle shopping mall the day before Christmas, as nearly twenty five young Slytherins surrounded Harry Potter, throwing out suggestions about what styles and colors might suit Harry the best.

After ten minutes, the tailor got them to untie Harry's hands.

After fifteen minutes, the tailor got them all to shut up.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was made to model various ensembles. The others took notes, and some made cat calls. Harry's face was beginning to turn a permanent shade of red.

Three hours, and nearly a hundred different outfit and color combinations later, they had decided on one outfit, and a color palette. Harry learned that he was a winter, and that he should wear silver, and not gold, not to mention that darker, or rather "cool" colors suited him best--something everyone found rather handy considering the House colors. He also learned that his build leant itself well to turtlenecks.

By this point Harry desperately wished he had his wand, and an ability to cast Avada Kevardra. He somehow suspected that if he did try, he might actually succeed.

Finally, four hours, twenty two minutes and thirty five seconds after they entered the shop, Harry Potter had enough clothes to constitute a new fall and winter wardrobe, as well as several pairs of shoes. The girls flatly refused to let him buy any warm weather clothes, saying that he'd have to wait for the Spring fashions to come out.

He was too hungry, and too tired to argue at that point. After throwing on some basics like new underwear and socks, and two tops that Harry really liked after he'd received permission to browse, the bill came to just over 200 galleons. Crabbe paid 150 of it, in exchange for a little help on a History of Magic assignment, and Harry paid for the rest. He debated justifying it to himself, but decided that he was allowed to indulge once in a while, especially considering that was the first time he'd ever bought new clothes that weren't robes.

He left the shop wearing black trousers, a silver turtleneck and a rich forest green crew neck sweater, the remaining packages were going to be delivered by owl that night.

* * *

After ducking into a store to grab sandwiches to eat on the run, the next step in the Harry makeover was a new pair of glasses. Unlike the tailor, Harry didn't let himself get bullied around, and he quickly settled on a pair of black wire frame glasses that were simple, yet met the approval of the crowd. After a few quick magical measurements that Harry didn't understand, he was assured he could pick them up later that afternoon. They were out of the store within an hour.

* * *

The last stop was a hair "stylist" that Draco insisted was the best. Unlike his glasses, Harry had no say in what he wanted since "the day he's able to keep his hair neat is the day that Trelawney actually makes more then one accurate prediction." He sat in down in the styling chair, Derrick and Montague rebound his hands (rather needlessly Harry felt, he actually wanted a haircut, despite popular opinion), and let the man do his work.

* * *

After retrieving the new glasses-and discovering the world to be a much crisper place (for his old lenses had been out of date, and his new ones would adapt as his vision changed), it was decided that now that Harry looked "devastatingly handsome" (Millicent's words) that it was time to celebrate. The gaggle of students headed to the Hog's Head Pub (unlike the Three Broomsticks, the owner didn't want to potentially offend any of a number of powerful families and would willingly serve them mead), and between Harry, Draco and Blaise, the three of them turned many heads. Harry knew that Draco was used to it, and at least it partially accounted for the cocky swagger the blond had. He however, wasn't, and was quite relieved when they slipped into the private room that was kept for larger groups.

Although two hours isn't very much time to get drunk when alternating between rounds of butterbeer and mead, everyone made their best of it--even Harry, who hadn't even had mead before, enjoying the increasingly relaxed atmosphere.

Draco regaled them with tales of Snape and his father--Harry wasn't the only one who turned a little green at the mention of naked Snape being covered in syrup. Millicent and Pansy told of the latest gossip, and who was doing what to whom up in the Astronomy tower (and if any of it could be used for blackmail).

All too soon, the group started walking back to the meeting spot to return to Hogswarts in high spirits and slightly tipsy. Harry and Blaise were walking near each other when Blaise whispered, "You look amazing."

Harry giggled. He was perhaps more drunk then the rest. "Thank you."

"Do you want to go out sometime?"

"You mean, like a date?" Harry asked, feeling rather stupid.

Blaise nodded. "That's exactly what I mean."

Harry looked at Blaise, stunned. Although not completely confident, he was pretty sure that Blaise was in fact a guy. Even more surprising was that the previous thought didn't really bother him. The other thing he was sure of was that Blaise probably actually liked him and not just the Boy Who Lived.

So he did what he didn't think he'd ever do had ever thought of that possibility before that moment.

He said yes.

"Great!" Blaise beamed. "I'll start planning and give you the details later!"

Draco couldn't believe his ears. "Blaise?" he muttered to no in particular. Grumbling, he continued, "I always knew Potter had no taste."

"What was that, Draco?" asked Crabbe.

"Oh. Nothing."

Like every good henchmen, Crabbe didn't ask any more questions.

* * *

Sunday morning, Harry carefully dressed himself, making sure not to wreck any of the creases in his new pants (Pansy had spent a good twenty minutes discussing the finer points of how to care for his new clothes), as well as a new top. He checked to make sure his hair was all right, quickly muttering a spell that the stylist had taught him to tame any wild hairs.

He'd spent a few extra minutes gazing at his reflection that morning, marveling at the difference some clothes and a haircut make. He realized he no longer looked like the Boy Who Lived In a Cupboard, but more like his father. He now looked less like a child who had lived through sheer dumb luck, but more like a young man who knew what he was doing. If he still thought the new clothes were a little itchy, well so be it, he wouldn't want to go back to his old look.

The mirror commented on how vain Harry was being that morning.

"I am not! I just want to show the others how much I appreciated their help is all." he muttered to himself. As an after thought he mentioned that Blaise had nothing to do with this, no matter what anyone said.

"Just keep telling yourself that, kid." His mirror had replied.

Harry decided that it was time to find a non-talking mirror.

* * *

Breakfast was its normal chatty affair. Crabbe gleefully told him that he'd be spending the afternoon developing the photos. Harry told him that he didn't have to rush, but Crabbe insisted.

"You're too kind." Harry mumbled.

"I can't deny the rest of the House now can I?"

"Oh no. Of course not." Harry agreed, knowing this wasn't an argument that he could win. He was slightly distracted as he was fully aware that he was getting stares--again. Only this time, they weren't the amused stares, but more like the head turning that had happened at Hogsmeade the day before.

Blaise sat down next to Harry, an arm casually touching his shoulder, casual, yet to those who knew how to read the signs a decidedly possessive touch.

"The Ravenclaws think you're hot, Harry. Rumor has it they're going to try and get Hermione to ask you out."

Harry groaned. "Thank Merlin that she wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't be too sure of that." Draco cut in. "You should look at yourself now. Now that we've gotten you into some decent clothes people are suddenly noticing that you're not just a freak with scar."

"That's so helpful, Draco."

"You're welcome."

Harry really hoped that Hermione didn't ask. He liked her all right--but in what he'd assume was more of a sisterly kind of way.

"Oh god."

Blaise looked at Harry quizzically. "What?"

"Ginny."

"What about the youngest weasel?"

Harry gave Draco a tired look.

"I mean, Weasley."

"You all know she's had a crush on me since she got here." Ginny's unrequited love was well known, although her older brothers generally did an admirable job of getting the school to talk about other things. "She might, you know, fall again or try something."

"I wouldn't worry about it." Draco said dryly. He paused, waiting until Lavender Brown was within earshot "Seeing as you're going out with Blaise."

She gasped and Harry glared. "Thanks so much Draco."

"I was just doing you a favor, that's all. I mean considering she's the biggest gossip and all. No one will bother you now." Draco said airily.

Harry stood up, no longer interested in his food. "I have some homework to do. I'll be in the library if anyone needs me. Draco, we'll be sharing our tutoring session with the people I had to give detention to, so please set up on Snape's demonstration counter." He said good bye to the others, and fled the Great Hall, trying to ignore the stares as the words "Harry and BLAISE?!" began to fly around him as he passed the Gryffindor table.