Harry Potter in Leather
by Yugogirl2
This is a tale in which both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy wear leather. I understand that there might be someone other than myself who likes that sort of thing. :-)
*****
Harry Potter in Leather
Part 1 of 2
Harry Potter was not a happy man. Well, if you wish to get quite technical about things, he wasn't a man, actually, not yet being of legal age. It didn't matter that he'd battled the most hideously evil being ever, Voldemort, and lived to tell the tale. Unfortunately, adults still considered the Boy Who Lived to be a mere boy. Harry was sick to death of it.
It wasn't fair that someone like Draco Malfoy could come and go at will into adult establishments during Hogsmeade weekends, whilst Harry was forbidden entrance. This weekend would be different. Harry had a plan.
He also had a new friend. Someone who that, had you asked Harry a year ago, "Would you be willing to say a civil word to this chap?" Harry would have replied, "Bugger off," or something similar. However, through a series of circumstances so bizarre and unlikely as to be beyond belief (and, coincidently, beyond the bounds of this current story), they had recently begun a cautious friendship.
Harry was waiting in the Astronomy Tower, neutral territory to both Gryffindor and Slytherin. It was one of the few places where he and Draco could meet without comment or notice. That is, if Draco remembered that he'd agreed to meet Harry here tonight. Harry paced, debating whether or not to chuck it in, and write off Draco for this evening. "He was supposed to have been here nearly an hour ago. I'll give him five more minutes, and if he's not here, I'll leave, and do something vile to him tomorrow."
His threat was interrupted by a familiar voice. "Talking to yourself again, Potter? You know that's a sign of an unbalanced mind." Draco strolled into the room, unhurried. "Of course, this is Harry Potter we're talking about. The unbalanced mind is a part of the whole package."
Harry stood tall, peering over his glasses at his so-called friend. "Luckily for you, I'm kind-hearted enough to ignore that comment. Or, I might say something ridiculous in return, like, 'It takes one to know one.'"
Draco sneered. "Oh, yes, you're the kind-hearted Harry Potter; not the same git who was threatening me with something vile when I first walked in the room. Just because you're in a pissy mood, don't go taking it out on me. I got waylaid by Snape on the way here, and had to do some creative improvisation to even get here at all. Don't make me regret it."
Harry looked away, embarrassed at his earlier comment. "Sorry. I was out of line. I've had a horrible day, and you were a convenient target for me to take it out on." Great. The one person he still felt like speaking to, and now he's mad at me.
Harry startled at the fisted hand which was suddenly thrust in front of his face. He looked up, surprised to see that Draco had adopted a rather demented stance, halfway between that of a boxer and a ballet dancer. Draco stood with sleeves rolled up, both fists raised, as he taunted, "Come on Potter, you want to go, let's have at it!" He threw a soft punch at Harry's shoulder, then another at his head. Harry raised his arms to protect himself, as Draco's ineffectual pummeling continued.
"Draco! Have you gone mad?"
Draco smiled, continuing with his mock punches. "You think you're the only one who's had a bad day, who wants to take out his frustration on someone else? Is that it? Well, you're right!" Harry caught the next slow motion punch as it came at him. He wrapped his hand around Draco's and twisted. Draco was forced to turn away from him, to free up his arm. Once he'd done so, he rubbed at it. "Ow, Potter, that hurt!"
Harry was surprised, as he didn't think he'd used enough force to cause any pain. "Really?"
Draco suddenly pounced on Harry, knocking him off his feet. They fell to the floor in a tumble of arms and legs, with Draco ending up atop Harry. He smiled down at his victim. "No, not really. I was just trying to make you feel better. Did it work?"
Harry couldn't help but return the smile he'd been given. "Yeah, it did. Thanks."
Draco stood, helping Harry to his feet. "You're welcome. Now, shall we talk about whatever it is we're here to talk about?"
Harry frowned, suddenly reminded of the reason for his earlier glumness. He paced a step or two, trying to figure out how to put into words what it is that he wanted. He sighed. "I would like to know why it is that, although we're the same age, I get treated like a child, while you're granted the privileges of an adult."
Draco responded, his confusion evident. "That may have made perfect sense to you, but I don't have a clue as to what the devil you're talking about."
Harry attempted to clarify his annoyance. "For example, why is it that total strangers feel a need to come up to me and ruffle my hair or pat me on the head, as if I were a lap dog? No one would ever think of doing something like that to you."
Draco snorted. "That has nothing to do with my being treated as an adult. It's because they know that, if they were foolish enough to attempt something of the sort, they'd be pulling back a bloody stump, and wondering whatever happened to their hand." Draco smiled, as his comment drew a laugh from Harry. "I simply give them my 'glare of death,' and they're warned right off."
Harry thought a bit, then decided. "So, I need to learn the Draco Malfoy glare of death."
Draco looked somewhat taken aback. He cautiously agreed. "Erm right, maybe."
Harry tried mightily, but all his attempts at repeating Draco's expression succeeded in doing was to cause Malfoy to collapse to the ground in a fit of hysterical laughter. Harry was not amused. He stared down at his possibly soon to be ex-friend, with what he thought was a stern expression. Draco had gotten himself reasonably under control, until he looked up at Harry's (hopefully) forbidding face. Draco whooped, pointing and gesturing, as he went off into another round of hysterics.
Harry sank to the floor, resting his arms on bent knees, looking sad again. Draco took himself in hand, finally able to swing a companionable arm across Harry's bowed back. "Hey, Harry, don't take it personally. I think the 'glare of death' is part of the Malfoy genetic makeup. I learned it from my father, and he probably learned from his, and so on, back a hundred generations."
Harry sat, glum and silent. Draco decided to offer a suggestion. "Actually, there's one area that I think you could improve upon."
Not certain that he really wanted to hear the answer, Harry took a minute before he decided to ask the obvious question. "What might that be?"
Anxious not to cause any offense, Draco replied. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but, well, when you dress like a school kid, people tend to treat you like one."
Rather than be annoyed, Harry welcomed the information. "I never had to worry about how I looked when I was with the Dursleys. I wore what I was given to wear, and that was the end of it. I'd be the first one to admit to being totally clueless when it comes to clothing."
Happy that Harry hadn't dismissed his suggestion out of hand, Draco continued. "Even though I'm an expert at selecting clothing to suit my own personal style, I'm not quite certain that I'd be the proper person to help you out with yours. However, you and I happen to know someone who is an expert when it comes to fashion sense."
Harry immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion. Brightening with the thought of his dearest female friend, he asked, "You mean Hermione?"
Draco tried not to look appalled, as he clarified. "No. I mean Ginny Weasley."
*****
Author's Note: So sorry. Did I say Draco and Harry in Leather? Well, yes, but unfortunately not until the next chapter. Draco and Harry just went on and on in this chapter, delaying the inevitable.
by Yugogirl2
This is a tale in which both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy wear leather. I understand that there might be someone other than myself who likes that sort of thing. :-)
*****
Harry Potter in Leather
Part 1 of 2
Harry Potter was not a happy man. Well, if you wish to get quite technical about things, he wasn't a man, actually, not yet being of legal age. It didn't matter that he'd battled the most hideously evil being ever, Voldemort, and lived to tell the tale. Unfortunately, adults still considered the Boy Who Lived to be a mere boy. Harry was sick to death of it.
It wasn't fair that someone like Draco Malfoy could come and go at will into adult establishments during Hogsmeade weekends, whilst Harry was forbidden entrance. This weekend would be different. Harry had a plan.
He also had a new friend. Someone who that, had you asked Harry a year ago, "Would you be willing to say a civil word to this chap?" Harry would have replied, "Bugger off," or something similar. However, through a series of circumstances so bizarre and unlikely as to be beyond belief (and, coincidently, beyond the bounds of this current story), they had recently begun a cautious friendship.
Harry was waiting in the Astronomy Tower, neutral territory to both Gryffindor and Slytherin. It was one of the few places where he and Draco could meet without comment or notice. That is, if Draco remembered that he'd agreed to meet Harry here tonight. Harry paced, debating whether or not to chuck it in, and write off Draco for this evening. "He was supposed to have been here nearly an hour ago. I'll give him five more minutes, and if he's not here, I'll leave, and do something vile to him tomorrow."
His threat was interrupted by a familiar voice. "Talking to yourself again, Potter? You know that's a sign of an unbalanced mind." Draco strolled into the room, unhurried. "Of course, this is Harry Potter we're talking about. The unbalanced mind is a part of the whole package."
Harry stood tall, peering over his glasses at his so-called friend. "Luckily for you, I'm kind-hearted enough to ignore that comment. Or, I might say something ridiculous in return, like, 'It takes one to know one.'"
Draco sneered. "Oh, yes, you're the kind-hearted Harry Potter; not the same git who was threatening me with something vile when I first walked in the room. Just because you're in a pissy mood, don't go taking it out on me. I got waylaid by Snape on the way here, and had to do some creative improvisation to even get here at all. Don't make me regret it."
Harry looked away, embarrassed at his earlier comment. "Sorry. I was out of line. I've had a horrible day, and you were a convenient target for me to take it out on." Great. The one person he still felt like speaking to, and now he's mad at me.
Harry startled at the fisted hand which was suddenly thrust in front of his face. He looked up, surprised to see that Draco had adopted a rather demented stance, halfway between that of a boxer and a ballet dancer. Draco stood with sleeves rolled up, both fists raised, as he taunted, "Come on Potter, you want to go, let's have at it!" He threw a soft punch at Harry's shoulder, then another at his head. Harry raised his arms to protect himself, as Draco's ineffectual pummeling continued.
"Draco! Have you gone mad?"
Draco smiled, continuing with his mock punches. "You think you're the only one who's had a bad day, who wants to take out his frustration on someone else? Is that it? Well, you're right!" Harry caught the next slow motion punch as it came at him. He wrapped his hand around Draco's and twisted. Draco was forced to turn away from him, to free up his arm. Once he'd done so, he rubbed at it. "Ow, Potter, that hurt!"
Harry was surprised, as he didn't think he'd used enough force to cause any pain. "Really?"
Draco suddenly pounced on Harry, knocking him off his feet. They fell to the floor in a tumble of arms and legs, with Draco ending up atop Harry. He smiled down at his victim. "No, not really. I was just trying to make you feel better. Did it work?"
Harry couldn't help but return the smile he'd been given. "Yeah, it did. Thanks."
Draco stood, helping Harry to his feet. "You're welcome. Now, shall we talk about whatever it is we're here to talk about?"
Harry frowned, suddenly reminded of the reason for his earlier glumness. He paced a step or two, trying to figure out how to put into words what it is that he wanted. He sighed. "I would like to know why it is that, although we're the same age, I get treated like a child, while you're granted the privileges of an adult."
Draco responded, his confusion evident. "That may have made perfect sense to you, but I don't have a clue as to what the devil you're talking about."
Harry attempted to clarify his annoyance. "For example, why is it that total strangers feel a need to come up to me and ruffle my hair or pat me on the head, as if I were a lap dog? No one would ever think of doing something like that to you."
Draco snorted. "That has nothing to do with my being treated as an adult. It's because they know that, if they were foolish enough to attempt something of the sort, they'd be pulling back a bloody stump, and wondering whatever happened to their hand." Draco smiled, as his comment drew a laugh from Harry. "I simply give them my 'glare of death,' and they're warned right off."
Harry thought a bit, then decided. "So, I need to learn the Draco Malfoy glare of death."
Draco looked somewhat taken aback. He cautiously agreed. "Erm right, maybe."
Harry tried mightily, but all his attempts at repeating Draco's expression succeeded in doing was to cause Malfoy to collapse to the ground in a fit of hysterical laughter. Harry was not amused. He stared down at his possibly soon to be ex-friend, with what he thought was a stern expression. Draco had gotten himself reasonably under control, until he looked up at Harry's (hopefully) forbidding face. Draco whooped, pointing and gesturing, as he went off into another round of hysterics.
Harry sank to the floor, resting his arms on bent knees, looking sad again. Draco took himself in hand, finally able to swing a companionable arm across Harry's bowed back. "Hey, Harry, don't take it personally. I think the 'glare of death' is part of the Malfoy genetic makeup. I learned it from my father, and he probably learned from his, and so on, back a hundred generations."
Harry sat, glum and silent. Draco decided to offer a suggestion. "Actually, there's one area that I think you could improve upon."
Not certain that he really wanted to hear the answer, Harry took a minute before he decided to ask the obvious question. "What might that be?"
Anxious not to cause any offense, Draco replied. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but, well, when you dress like a school kid, people tend to treat you like one."
Rather than be annoyed, Harry welcomed the information. "I never had to worry about how I looked when I was with the Dursleys. I wore what I was given to wear, and that was the end of it. I'd be the first one to admit to being totally clueless when it comes to clothing."
Happy that Harry hadn't dismissed his suggestion out of hand, Draco continued. "Even though I'm an expert at selecting clothing to suit my own personal style, I'm not quite certain that I'd be the proper person to help you out with yours. However, you and I happen to know someone who is an expert when it comes to fashion sense."
Harry immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion. Brightening with the thought of his dearest female friend, he asked, "You mean Hermione?"
Draco tried not to look appalled, as he clarified. "No. I mean Ginny Weasley."
*****
Author's Note: So sorry. Did I say Draco and Harry in Leather? Well, yes, but unfortunately not until the next chapter. Draco and Harry just went on and on in this chapter, delaying the inevitable.