Hogwart's Rule Number 247: I should not show up at the front gate wearing part of another Houses uniform, messily drunk.
Hogwart's Rule Number 248: - Even if my Prefect did it too.
"Opps!" Draco exclaimed, tripping over his own feet.
It was way past curfew, but the blonde didn't care – fin act he was beyond care! He couldn't remember why he even tried caring about anything in the first place! The Slytherin scrunched up his face; if he really thought about it though, it was caring that got him to his current state of not caring. So caring got him to believe in not caring.
Draco burst out laughing and gasping for air when he tripped and fell again.
The ground waved in and out of his vision in pulses as he tried to bring himself back up. Draco blamed his inability to keep balance, on the shoes – not the amount of alcohol he had consumed, because he couldn't even remember how much he had. Anyway, he couldn't walk because the shoes are far too big – and ugly – unfashionably ugly – and old! Don't forget old!
Now that the Slytherin was looking at them, he couldn't remember where his shoes were or how he came to be in these very, very, very ugly, old sneakers.
They looked to be Muggle made.
Draco couldn't tell if the "ew" he thought of was from staring at the shoes, or because he could taste the bitter burn of bile at the back of his throat – actually, that could be the shoes fault too.
The blonde scrunched his face, and tried again, to recall what he had been doing the past few hours, and why he was stumbling back to Hogwart's on his own, in the middle of the night – or it could be the early hours of the morning – he wasn't entirely sure, and since he couldn't find his watch, he went back to not caring.
But the Malfoy boy had another problem – since he discovered the shoes, he couldn't help noting that he was also wearing jeans. JEANS!
"What – what happened to me!?" he cried out, and startled himself into another fall, "OoOoOouch!" Draco whined.
"Bloody hell, you're pathetic, Malfoy," a voice sounded.
"What?" Draco slipped in the mud, turning this way and that, trying to find the owner of the mystery voice.
He didn't have to strain his neck for long, when a head appeared out of thin air. It was the head of Harry Potter.
"Merlin's Beard! What – where's your body?!" the Slytherin panicked, "Someone's chopped off Harry Potter's head and has cursed it!"
"Would you shut up?" Harry glared, "the rest of me is under the Invisibility Cloak – you know that."
"Oh" breathed out Draco.
"Come on," said Harry, "Let's get you back to Hogwart's – I want my clothes back," the Gryffindor grabbed the Slytherin and pulled him to his feet.
"Your clothes?" Draco wobbled behind Harry's bouncing head.
"Yes – you're wearing them."
Draco looked down himself, "If I'm wearing your clothes... where are mine?"
"I don't know," Harry tugged on Draco's arm to encourage him moving again.
"Hmmm," the blonde came to a complete stop, "Oh!" he started giggling, "That means-!"
"Malfoy."
"That means!" Draco wagged his finger in Harry's face, "You're naked under there!"
"Shut up!" Harry turned red.
"Naked!" Draco snorted and tried to grab Harry's cloak, "Nude!"
"I'm not – will you stop!" Harry swatted at him, "I have my pants – Malfoy!"
"No!" the Slytherin threw himself at the Gryffindor.
The boys wrestled around in the mud, one highly annoyed and the other in hysterical glee, until Draco had Harry pinned underneath himself and ripped the Invisability Cloak away.
"Nude..." whispered the blonde, his fingers tentively brushed over the brunette's chest.
Harry tensed under Draco, "Malfoy..." he warned.
"You're naked..." Draco touched Harry's face, "... because of me... I made you naked."
"You didn't make me-" Harry went to push Draco off him, "You were naked and drunk in Hogsmeade – no one was around – I had my cloak – so I gave you my clothes."
"Why?" Draco pushed against Harry and frowned, "Why would you do that for me?"
Harry shut his mouth, and Draco fell off him, and scrambled to his feet, "I'm always – always mean to you! Why?!"
Footsteps approached behind the duo and Harry grabbed his Invisability Cloak, "Be quiet."
"No! Answer me!" the Malfoy heir stamped his feet.
"Shh!" Harry wrapped the Cloak around himself as Snape walked up behind Draco.
"Potter! Don't hide!"
"Mr. Malfoy... what are you doing?"
"I'm talking to Potter," Draco pointed at a bush.
Snape slowly took hold of Draco and faced him in the direction of the Hogwart's Castle.
"I'm not done!"
"Oh yes you are," the professor pushed Draco up the hill.
"He's standing right there, naked!"
Snape wrinkled his nose, "If you be silent now, no one will need to know about your hallucinations."
"He has something important to tell me!" the blonde pulled away from the Slytherin Head of House.
"Draco Malfoy – No one is there – a naked Harry Potter is a drunken illusion!" Snape spat sternly.
Draco stopped to think, "... but..." he looked at the bush, "... Potter?"
The shrub remained silent.
The blonde frowned, setting his jaw and trudged up the hill towards the castle, with an agitatted Snaped following close behind. When they approached the dungeons Snape pointed down the hall and Draco left the professor behind.
Had Draco really imagined a naked Harry Potter? But then where did these clothes come from? The boy leant against the bricks to the Slytherin common room. Becoming more frustrated, and sobering up, Draco decided he'd just burn everything he was wearing, and be done will the whole night.
Draco stood in front of the common room wall, and opened his mouth to give the password when a breath ghosted past his ear.
"Please don't forget clean and return my clothes... if you just leave them in a bag in the student laundry, I'll pick them up tomorrow night."
The Slytherin spun around quickly, "Potter?" he half whispered.
There was no answer, and Draco bowed his head, "stupid git," he mumbled, "Just tell me why."
Silence, then, "... because I need my clothes."
"Not that! Why did you lend them to me?" Draco glared and tried his best to pinpoint the direction of Harry's voice.
"... because it it were me... I'd like to have someone lend me their clothes."
Draco stared down the hall, his eyes flicking from wall to wall, he licked his lips, "You know... if the roles had been reversed – I'd have never given you my clothes."
Footsteps began echoing away, "Just return mine and forget about it – you're thinking too much into it."
o~O~o~O~o~O~o
Three nights had passed since Harry had given his clothes to Draco, and every night since, he had been going to the laundry.
Most people would have given up by now, but Harry Potter is a stubborn and proud Gryffindor, and he wanted his damned clothes back!
Tonight he found two bags sitting on a bench with a sealed envelope on top with his name written on it.
Harry carefully opened the letter.
Hey Chosen One,
You have a choice – pick the bag on the left with your baggy jeans, hideous red shirt, massive socks and ugly, so very ugly, old sneakers in them.
Or pick the bag on the right – it's much better, trust me.
DM
Harry pocketed the letter and stared at the two bags. His fingers twitched, his eyes flicked between the choices. Curiosity got the better of him and he opened the bag on the right.
Inside was a pair of dress slacks, two button-down shirts, a couple of socks and new sneakers. It all looked to be his size too.
Harry tied off the bag and looked to the left – which he knew to have Dudley's hand-me-downs and he smiled. The brunette turned and left, clutching the laundry bag to himself.
Draco Malfoy stepped out from behind a mountain of bedding and took the abandoned bag. He pulled a pillow and some staionary equipment he used to make the bag appear full out, and dumped the contents in the lost and found bin by the door.
The blonde smoothed down the hideous red shirt on his person and exited as well.
A/N
I know I didn't incorporate a Prefect, but I hope you guys enjoyed the fic all the same. ^_^
