Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Happenings A.D.V. (After Death of Voldemort)
Harry had known that once Voldemort was gone, that there would be changes in the wizarding world.
He just hadn't expected it to hit him so close to home; indeed it seemed to Harry that he was the only sane individual around nowadays.
Take Ron and Hermione, their relationship had seemed fairly well established by those extended years of foreplay between them, and that heated kiss before the final battle.
His established conceptions had been maintained for a time beyond that upheaval during which, to put it mildly, they had been getting it on like rabbits in the spring. Yet, with the arrival of their letters detailing a sort of 'eighth' year for those senior students who wished it, the two had split.
It had been a very mild break up which seemed to bother him more than both Ron and Hermione together where Ron found it necessary to say, "oh come on, Harry, don't look at me like that... you can't have expected as to stay together forever?".
This was apparently true of Ginny who hadn't waited all that patiently for Harry during his endeavours against the batshit crazy Dark Lord. His erstwhile girlfriend had undertaken the momentous task of getting with at least half of the legal aged students who remained at Hogwarts – boys and girls alike – until eventually settling with the individual who seemed to satisfy all urges that had lead her to look elsewhere, this was one Neville Longbottom.
Altogether, what with Hagrid getting hitched, Minerva insisting on the students addressing her as Minnie and Severus Snape, by throwing all 'Death Eater nonsense' to the wind, displaying as much colour coordination skill as the late Headmaster, Harry wasn't all that surprised that the uniform policy at Hogwarts had slackened.
Though he wasn't completely certain that was Draco Malfoy now wore on a daily basis qualified even on those, now seriously reduced, guidelines.
Malfoy, or Draco, did wear a uniform, however it was, unfortunately for Harry's peace of mind, was the girls version.
And no one else seemed to notice.
Harry reassured himself countless times a day that the sway of the black shirt against Draco's toned thighs had absolutely no affect on him.
Similarly, the shirt tied across his taut stomach did not cause Harry to wish they could resort to their old physical fights so that he could, perhaps, find himself against the now displayed body.
While the white stocks pulled high on his calves, followed by plain black, feminine, shoes, in the traditional good girl style had not impact on Harry because his eyes did not take into account what those sock clad legs might look like thrown open for him.
This definitely did not lead to theories of what Draco might potentially wear underneath that skirt. None what so ever.
So when Harry found Draco sitting all alone in the library one day, he approached the boy with the intention of interrogating him in relation to his choice of clothing. He had no other motive.
The conversation was dissatisfactory to say the least. Harry could not get his mind to concentrate on what was said while Draco seemed to have dry lips, judging by the multiple times that the boy needed to moisten his pink lips.
Delectable pink lips.
And because Harry could then get no complete answers from Draco, it was obvious that they needed to remove themselves for another meeting. He suggested this take place in the Room of Requirement, where they would not be interrupted.
There he would get to the bottom of this Harry thought while following the sway of Draco's hips in that skirt with his eyes as he walked behind the oddly (eroticallyamazingwonderfully) dressed male.
But once in that Room other priorities immediately became apparent as Draco swiped his tongue against his lips again and Harry (in his purely selfless way) just had to taste them, to see if there was something on them that Draco could not remove which he could help with.
And as they pressed their mouths together, over and over again, Harry began to realise that perhaps a little bit of madness was in them all. Because, as he ran his hands up that skirt a little lacy number was revealed, there were some things in life that were more important than reasonable behaviour.
Sanity was definitely overrated.