A/N: The concept for this story, along with about half the actual writing, is the product of the wonderful mind of a friend. Credit her awesomeness. Oh, and also, neither of us is J. K. Rowling, so don't sue us please. :)

Draco's Muggle Disguise

Harry had been looking forward to the "educational trip" that Hogwarts had been planning to take to a Muggle village, until he learned that Draco Malfoy was his buddy for the trip. For some irritating and inconceivable reason, Dumbledore decided that they should all have assigned partners, and Harry got stuck with Draco.

"This is going to be horrible," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione. Ron was partnered with Seamus Finnigan, and Hermione was with Luna Lovegood. Of course, they got the people they actually liked.

"Maybe Malfoy won't be as big a git as usual," Ron said hopefully.

Harry sighed. "Let's face it, he'll be just as much a git as normal."

Suddenly, the aforementioned Malfoy popped in. "Potter," he sneered. "It appears I'm stuck with you."

"Can't your father do anything to save you, Draco?" Harry asked sarcastically.

Draco scowled. "Say goodbye to your precious little friends now. I have to go find some mudblood clothing for this pathetic trip."

He swaggered off, narrowly missing Ron's punch. Harry rolled his eyes, wondering if Malfoy even knew how Muggles dressed. Suddenly, he jerked straight up. "Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned. Harry spun round and grinned at his friends.

"I've got an idea."

"Oi, Malfoy!"

He turned slowly, his pale grey eyes fixing on Harry. "What is it, Potter? Need help with some Dementors?" He smirked.

"No, I just —" How was he going to make this sound plausible? "I just thought — you'll look even dumber than usual if you try to dress yourself as a Muggle, and if I have to be seen with you at all, I'd rather you were dressed sensibly. I've seen what you purebloods think Muggles wear, and it's frankly horrible."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "Are you offering to take me shopping, Potter? Shall I swoon, or just fawn over you to feed your superiority complex?"

Harry glared. "It's only so I don't look completely insane for even being within a quarter mile of you. I don't want to give Rita Skeeter another reason to make me look daft."

"Such a low opinion of me, Potter," Malfoy mocked. "I'm wounded."

"Stuff it, Malfoy. C'mon, we have to get outside the gates to Apparate."

"What? Why bother Apparating to Hogsmeade? It's not that far . . . unless, of course, you really are as pathetically weak as you look."

Harry rolled his eyes. "We can't get Muggle clothes in Hogsmeade, Malfoy. It hasn't got any Muggles! We're going to London."

"What, to Diagon Alley?"

"No, stupid, to Muggle London. Again, Muggle clothes, Muggle city. Although we do have to stop off at Diagon Alley to change for Muggle money." Harry started to walk away.

"Watch your attitude, Potter," Malfoy called after him, following at a saunter. "You may be a Triwizard Champion, but my father's still the most influential man in England. And the richest."

Harry chose a store that he'd heard of by name, but never actually been to. Fortunately, the different sections for girls and boys were not labeled. Which would make this so much easier.

"Right this way," Harry said brightly, leading Draco over to the dresses for teenaged girls. "These are basically the Muggle equivalent of robes," he explained. Draco glanced at him dubiously.

"Why aren't any of the other Muggle men wearing them?" he asked, gesturing around the shop.

Harry sighed with exasperation. "They're all gay."

Draco blinked in surprise. "Really?" Harry nodded.

"Only rich, straight guys wear these outfits. Believe me, those guys are all either gay or poor. Or possibly both, I really don't know."

"So, this . . . attire shows that I'm both straight and wealthy?"

Harry nodded again. "Right-o. Believe me, if you go around in those trousers, girls will just steer clear. They'll just assume that they're, er, not your type, if you get my meaning." Harry said, hoping that Draco wouldn't mull over the matter further and realize that he didn't really care if Muggle girls were interested in him or not.

Fortunately, he seemed convinced. "Fine. I'll take this one," he said, grabbing a dress in emerald green. It came down to his ankles. It took every ounce of Harry's willpower not to laugh.

"Sounds brilliant."

After the dress, Harry took Draco shopping for shoes, cosmetics, and hair products. There was a close call when a burly cashier said, "These for someone special?" but Harry just muttered a noncommittal reply and hurried Malfoy away. And then, at last, they Apparated back to Hogsmeade with a bag full of girls' clothes and accessories. Harry was counting on Malfoy's revulsion for all things Muggle-related to keep him from showing the purchases to anyone, in case they told him the truth and Malfoy saw through Harry's ruse.

Back at Hogwarts, they chose an empty classroom to try things out. Harry had already asked Hermione exactly how you were supposed to put on makeup. She had given him a demonstration, then made him practice by repeatedly slathering her face in the stuff. The first time, all the mascara had ended up in her eyebrows and he had nearly stabbed her eye out with the eyeliner, but after what felt like hours he had managed a passable application, so he felt fairly confident.

"What is this even for?" Draco asked, peering at some eyeshadow.

"Er, it's to make your eyes look bigger. Muggles like big eyes. Don't know why." Draco by now seemed to have given up sneering about the oddity of Muggles. He merely rolled his eyes and reached for the dress.

"Wait a second." Draco said suddenly.

Harry jumped. "Yes?"

Draco glared at him. "Where are your clothes? I assumed you already had some, since you live with Muggles and all, but you aren't putting them on."

Harry, given his many encounters with Lord Voldemort and company, had learned to think fast. "Er — if you must know, I'm gay."

Draco looked surprised. "Really?" he smirked. "Well, you and your weasel friend did always seem cosy."

"Yup," Harry lied, hoping Draco did not spread this new information to Cho or any other pretty girls at Hogwarts. "So, need help with your dr- robes?" Draco looked at Harry as he were an idiot.

"Thanks Potter, I'm flattered that you want to help me undress, but I'm not gay. Also, you're an irritating, ugly, stupid git."

"Thanks." Harry said sarcastically. He was beginning to wonder if any prank was worth putting up with Draco any longer. Fortunately, after Draco sneered "Turn your back Potter, wouldn't want you to swoon," and then pulled the dress over his head, the doubts evaporated. Harry had to concentrate on thinking of horrible things just to make sure his body did not betray him by laughing even more hysterically than when Dudley had attempted to draw a picture for his history assignment.

By the time they went down to the Great Hall together — the tables had been pushed to the walls and students were milling around waiting — Harry thought he must be blue in the face from trying not to laugh. As he opened the broad doors and let Malfoy go in first, he saw every face in the crowd turn to look at Malfoy, and it suddenly got very quiet. While many of the other purebloods were dressed strangely (Goyle seemed to have used a picture of William Shakespeare as his reference for Muggle clothing, and Crabbe was wearing lederhosen), none was quite so ridiculous as Malfoy. And after a few moments of very awkward silence as everyone tried to take the image in, all the Muggleborns and half-bloods in the crowd (along with anyone who had ever taken Muggle Studies) burst into raucous laughter. Harry, finally letting himself join in the hilarity, saw Malfoy turn and glare at him.

"Potter — you — what —" he spluttered. Harry smirked.

"Too late to go change now, Malfoy," he pointed out, nodding toward the approaching figure of Professor McGonagall. "Looks like we're leaving."

Malfoy looked up furiously. "I am going to kill you for this, Potter."

Harry grinned. "You do that."

Unfortunately for Draco, there were too many teachers around to kill Harry just then. Not to mention the horde of Muggles, who might have found the sight of one teenager causing another to drop dead whilst brandishing a long stick to be a bit suspicious.

Draco's scowl deepened as yet another Muggle started upon seeing him. The Muggle glanced at Draco, then at Harry, then back at Draco. He shrugged, and went back to his business.

"Potter," Draco snarled. "Pray tell, why are people staring at you? Please tell me that you're somehow humiliating yourself as well."

"Nope," Harry said cheerfully. "Nothing embarrassing. They probably just think we're boyfriends."

"I hate you, Potter."

"So I gathered. Tea?"

Draco huffed but followed Harry into the Muggle shop, glaring around at anyone who dared even to glance at him. Fools. He would have his vengeance for this.

"Black?"

Draco nodded curtly and Harry approached the counter to order their drinks. "Two teas," he said, pulling several pound notes out of his jeans. "How much?"

As he waited for the tea to be ready, the barista leaned over conspiratorially and raised a pair of sculpted eyebrows at him. "Trouble in paradise, love?" she asked, nodding toward the sullen-looking blond boy in that positively ravishing dress. A machine beeped behind her and she absentmindedly lidded the two drinks and set them on the counter, still watching Harry for a reply.

Harry grinned a wicked grin. "You could say that." He plucked the two styrofoam cups off the counter and started to turn away, then paused and looked back over his shoulder, smirking. "For him, at least."

There was no doubt that Draco would come up with something particularly dastardly as revenge for this little scheme. Even so, Harry couldn't bring himself to care. That was all in the future. For now, Harry Potter reveled in his victory.