Chapter 2
"No, no, no, Potter!" Draco snapped. "You have the fashion sense of a drunk three year old!" He snatched the red trousers out of Harry's hands and threw them back in the pile. "I know you have money. I don't know why you go straight to the bargain bin. You need properly fitted clothes, not this off-the- rack rubbish."
"I know I said you were the expert, Malfoy," Harry snarked, "but they're just clothes! I just want something that looks okay and fits properly!"
"Well in that case, you should have brought Granger." Draco smacked a clothes hanger holding a pair of garish orange trousers out of Harry's hands. "I was under the impression I was volunteered because I could make you look good. Is this not the case?"
Harry was beginning to get a little unnerved. Draco was a man on a mission. "I didn't realise you take shopping so seriously," he ventured, carefully putting down every item of clothing in his hands.
Draco turned on him, eyes flashing. "I don't take shopping seriously. I take this responsibility seriously." He grabbed a burgundy button down shirt and pair of dark jeans off a nearby rack. "From this moment on, when people look at you, they will know I am the one who dressed you. You are a reflection of me. And who am I?"
Harry was starting to get a little worried. "Uh, Draco Malfoy?"
"Yes!" Draco hissed. "A Malfoy. And Malfoy's have a reputation, an image, to protect. And I will protect it by any means necessary, do you understand, Potter?" He thrust the hangers into Harry's arms.
"Alright, alright," Harry conceded. "Calm down. It's fine. I'll buy whatever you say. Whatever you say, okay? You're the boss."
"The boss?" Draco's face immediately brightened and his voice lost it's hard edge. "I like the sound of that, Potter. It's a role I'm used to. I like it when people do what they're told."
"Colour me surprised, Malfoy," Harry snickered. "Alright, let's do this."
Over the next thirty minutes, Draco shoved item after item of clothing into Harry's arms. The heavy pile of clothing towered over Harry's head, and he staggered under its weight. "Malfoy!" His voice was muffled by the layers of cloth in his face. He could hear Draco humming somewhere in the distance. "Malfoy!" he shouted louder.
"Potter?" Malfoy stalked around him. "I thought we had agreed you would take this seriously!"
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, exasperated. "I am taking it seriously! I just needed you to stop; I can't carry anymore!"
"Are you a Wizard or not, Potter?" Draco waved his wand and the items of clothing flew themselves into the closest fitting room. Harry's eyes followed the pile, mouth agape.
"But - why didn't you do that before?" he asked, hands on hips. "I've been lugging that pile around for ages!"
Draco sighed, "I hadn't realised you hadn't done it, Potter, I was in the zone. No need to get all up in arms about it."
"What spell?"
"What? What spell?" Draco repeated, confused.
"That spell to get the clothes to fly to the fitting rooms. What is it?" Harry asked patiently.
"You don't know it?" Draco paused, tilting his head quizzically. "What on earth did they teach you in the Gryffindor common room?"
What surprised Harry was how genuine Draco's concern appeared. "Well, you know, just the basics. Starting fires, summoning food, tying and untying shoelaces, conjuring lube." He shot a cheeky smile at Draco. "You know, everyday things."
"I knew Gryffindors were freaks," Draco muttered. "It doesn't matter. I'll tell you in the next shop. For now, let's get you trying on these clothes." He gave Harry a forceful shove in the back and Harry went skidding into the change room.
"Next shop?" Harry's voice was filled with horror, which made Draco inadvertently crack a smile.
"These are day to day clothes, Potter," he drawled. "You will also need clothing for formal occasions. Ministry Galas and such."
He heard a heavy sigh coming from behind the curtain.
"Less bitching Potter. If anyone wanted to celebrate me, I'd let them." Draco tapped his foot impatiently.
"You don't need anyone to celebrate you, Malfoy, you celebrate you enough." Draco could hear the humour in Harry's voice, and wondered when they had arrived at this point of camaraderie. Draco didn't know, but he realised he was really coming to enjoy it- although he would deny that if asked. There was just something about Harry; he didn't really understand holding himself back - he could lie or withhold information, of course, but everything he did he threw himself into 100%, even a shopping trip he wasn't overly enjoying. He was kind, and friendly and would do anything for you - not in the underhanded Slytherin way Draco was used to, but blatantly in your face.
As Draco was pondering, he caught sight of Harry's head peeking around the curtain.
"How am I meant to know if it looks good?" Harry asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
"You are meant to show me," Draco snorted. "As though you can be trusted to make this decision on your own."
Harry sighed heavily. "Do I have to? Isn't there just a rule I could follow? You know, how tight is too tight for pants?"
"Yeah, no." Draco shrugged mock apologetically. "We both know you have no fashion sense. Just let me look and this will go much more easily."
Harry reluctantly stepped out of the fitting room. "Fine."
Had Draco been of inferior breeding, this would have been the moment his jaw dropped. As it was his gasped, "I am a genius!" nearly made Harry check for curses.
"A genius?"
"Yes, Potter, a genius!" Draco grabbed Harry's wrist and yanked him away from the fitting room. "Spin," he made the universal motion with his finger and sat on a nearby couch.
Harry reluctantly turned in a circle, arms wide. "I assume this means I look alright."
"Alright is an understatement, Potter." Draco leaned back in satisfaction. "I have made the most of your meagre features and have ensured you may be able to pick up one of these days. You're welcome."
"Uhm, if you say so." Harry shrugged. "May I ask, for future reference, exactly what it is that you like about this outfit? I might need to go shopping by myself one day."
"Why would you go by yourself when I'm a master of fashion?" Draco scoffed.
"Humour me, Malfoy." Harry began to get exasperated. "They just look like clothes to me. Just you know… smaller than what I'd normally wear."
"Yes, the clothes fit, Potter," Draco began. "But it's more than that. Let's start with the shirt. Look at how the shoulders sit. They are perfect. Not too wide, and not too narrow. The sleeves are not too long, and the fit of the sleeves emphasise your biceps, without bulging." A delicate blush ran up his defined cheekbones as he realised what he had said.
"Biceps?" Harry looked at his own arms. "I guess?"
Draco couldn't hold back a snort. "Yes Potter, you have muscles." He smirked condescendingly. Harry turned to look back in the fitting room mirror.
"Huh." Was all that came out of Harry's mouth.
"Context Potter," Draco drawled.
"Oh," Harry took a deep breath, shaking off his discomfort. "New clothes mixed with a flattering charm on the mirror, right?"
Draco looked confused, "I'm not sure I understand, Potter. What you see in the mirror is what I'm looking at right now. The only difference from usual is that you are not hidden by those rags."
"You don't need to bullshit me, Malfoy," Harry snorted. "I know what I look like. I know these kinds of shops put charms on their mirrors to encourage you to buy things. If I look half this good I'm happy," he shrugged, feigning carelessness. "I know in reality I'm scrawny, short, weird looking. I don't have, you know, muscle definition like you do."
Draco resisted the urge to preen, realising the tone of the situation. "Christ, Potter," he sighed. "No wonder you always look so bedraggled. You think you are." Draco stood. "You need confidence. Do you know how I always look this good?"
Harry looked at Draco carefully. "I have some ideas."
Draco smiled. "Okay, how do I always look so dashing?" At the awkwardly amused look on Harry's face, he continued, "humour me."
Harry shrugged, still looking awkward. "You're tall. You have nice eyes. You wear nice things?"
"Seriously Potter? That's it?" Draco asked in exasperation. "You look at me and there are only two attractive things about me?" He turned away to regain his composure, muttering, "only two things? I've had dates who have listed more in two seconds." He turned back to Harry, setting his shoulders. "Right. I'm not going to toot my own horn, Potter. But keep looking, I can assure you that I have more than two attractive features. I wear the clothes; the clothes don't wear me." He strode towards Harry and centred him in front of the mirror. "Right. Ears open because odds are this will never happen again.
"Let's take it from the top. Your hair is insane. No, Potter," he said catching Harry's insulted look. "It makes you who you are. If only it would settle a bit it would be artfully messy…" he trailed off, mind whirring. Catching himself, he continued. "You have amazing eyes. The green is startling. They are, forgive the expression, eye catching." He allowed a small smile. "Light smattering of freckles, pouty, kissable lips, strong jawline." Draco paused, clearing his throat. "Right, look at your shoulders. Broad, muscular. Defined chest and biceps, large hands, long fingers, tanned." As he spoke in a very matter of fact tone, he noticed a blush rise on Harry's face. "Charming blush," he smirked again. "Calm down Potter, I can appreciate a good looking man without hitting on him."
Harry looked down at his bare feet. Draco went on to compliment every part of Harry's body from chest to feet, then moving on to his admirable characteristics - hardly a smirk or word of snark to be heard. "Do I need to go on Potter?" he asked, finally completing the long, long, list.
Harry had spent the majority of that list staring at Draco's face over his shoulder in the mirror, mouth agape. Catching Draco's eye as he finished talking, he dropped his gaze to the floor, embarrassed, shuffling his bare feet awkwardly.
"Potter?" Draco said, frowning.
"You think my lips are kissable?" Harry smiled shyly up at him.
Draco groaned in frustration. "Of course that's all you got from that."