Gladrags Wizardwear had been a prominent fixture on Hogsmeade's high street since its grand opening more than two hundred and forty years prior. In that time, they had built a reputation for providing high-quality, stylish clothing, and a determination to fulfil the needs of every witch and wizard that passed through their doors. They had a steady stream of customers and loyal clientele, but today their Hogsmeade branch was unusually busy. On this particular Sunday afternoon, the shop was packed with excitable students looking for the perfect costume for the upcoming Halloween party.
Pansy was perusing the various tiaras and crowns on display at the counter while Seamus and Dean were trying on several wigs, laughing at each other's amusing appearances in the vanity mirror mounted on one of the walls. Poor Goyle was struggling to find any costume big enough to fit his hulking frame while Neville and Luna browsed through one of the many racks of colourful costumes on offer.
Yes, everyone in Gladrags Wizardwear was thoroughly enjoying themselves.
Everyone, except for Ronald Weasley.
Ron was in a foul mood. He had just seen Ginny and Theo enter the shop together, whispering conspiratorially to one another before greeting Luna and Neville. Hermione had given him a warning look that told him to mind his own business, thrust a costume into his hands and pushed him into one of the empty changing rooms. Ron started putting the costume on, deep in thought. He just didn't understand it. He was so sure that Harry and Ginny would have moved past their little tiff and gotten back together by now, but his sister seemed more interested in the affections of Theo Nott these days. Stranger still was that Harry didn't seem the least bit bothered by this.
Maybe Harry is just playing it cool, he wondered. If that was the case, then it wasn't working very well. He considered the possibility that Ginny was just doing this to make Harry jealous, but that didn't make any sense either since Harry wasn't with anyone else at the moment. He was just spending all of his free time in Malfoy's company.
Bloody Malfoy, he thought irritably to himself. That was another thing that Ron was struggling to wrap his head around. After seven years of being at each other's throats, all of a sudden Harry and Malfoy were laughing and joking with each other like they'd been friends for years. Okay, so Ron might have neglected his friendship with Harry of late, spending "quality time" with Hermione whenever the opportunity arose. But surely Harry wasn't lonely enough to feel that he needed to buddy up with the likes of Draco Malfoy. There were so many other better, nicer people he could have chosen to be friends with instead. A horrible thought struck Ron then—maybe Harry was doing this to make him feel jealous!
Surely not, he told himself, pulling up his trousers. Harry wasn't vindictive, he wouldn't do that to him. Besides, he wasn't jealous of Harry spending all of his free time with Malfoy instead of him. Nope. Not one bit.
Ron scrutinised his reflection in the changing room mirror, screwing up his nose in distaste. The costume that Hermione had picked out for him looked ridiculous: the green velour robes clashed horribly with his fiery red hair and the garland of fig leaves and berries that adorned his head was too small, so it sat perched on top of his head like a bird's nest. He twisted left and right, checking his appearance from all angles but it was no better however you looked at it. Ron sighed and adjusted the crown on top of his head. This looked almost as bad as the dress robes he'd worn to the Yule Ball.
Almost.
"How are you getting on in there?" called Hermione.
Ron pulled back the curtain and stepped back out onto the shop floor so his girlfriend could take a look for herself how foolish he looked.
"You can't really expect me to wear this," he griped.
Hermione sat in the centre of the circular changing room on a worn, sagging pouffe with her preferred costume already draped across her lap. She gave Ron a once-over and frowned.
"Why not?" she queried. "I think you look nice."
"I look ridiculous!" he cried, gesticulating wildly at his gaudy appearance. "I told you that I didn't want to wear a dress."
"It's not a dress, Ronald, it's a toga!" she bristled. "Men in ancient Rome and Greece wore togas every day and they were a symbol of your status and power."
Ron looked down at his costume again and back up at his girlfriend.
"This is a dress," he insisted.
"What on earth are you grumbling about now, Weasley?" Draco drawled. He drew back his own curtain and stepped out of the small changing room wearing a lincoln green tunic and trousers with a matching chapeau à bec. He froze when he caught sight of Ron and an amused smirk spread across his face. "I don't know what you're supposed to be, but I understand why you're upset."
Ron turned back to Hermione, feeling vindicated. "See? Even Malfoy thinks I look stupid."
"To be fair, I think you always look stupid," Draco taunted.
"Piss off, Malfoy!" he spat.
If it wasn't bad enough having to spend an afternoon shopping for Halloween costumes, he had to do it in the company of Draco bloody Malfoy, of all people. Harry might have inexplicably become bosom buddies with the blonde git but that didn't mean he had.
"He's Oberon, King of the Fairies," said Hermione testily. "And I think he looks dashing!"
"And who are you supposed to be?" Ron grumbled. Draco slung a small wooden bow over his shoulder and struck a pose.
"Robin Hood, of course. Heroic outlaw and Prince of Thieves."
"I should have guessed that you'd dress up as a common criminal," Ron sneered.
"Well, excuse me for not taking style tips from someone that dresses like my great-aunt Druella," Draco bit back.
"Can you guys at least try and be civil with one another for more than a few minutes?" Harry cried from his own changing room.
"Not possible," Draco replied lightly. "Weasley's too easy to wind up."
It was taking all of Ron's willpower not to hex that stupid smirk off of Draco's face right there and then, but he had already promised Hermione that he would try his best to be civil with him for Harry's sake. This, however, was proving to be a real test of his and Harry's friendship. Ron gnashed his teeth in frustration and glared at the smarmy Slytherin.
"Well, I'd like to see you try and pull off this costume!" he challenged.
"Fine," said Draco mildly. "Let's swap costumes and see who wears it better, shall we?"
Both boys retreated back into their changing rooms, tossed the clothing over the top of the curtains to one another and reemerged a couple of minutes later in each other's costumes. Much to Ron's fury, Draco looked like a Roman dignitary in the Shakespearean costume: elegant and regal with skin like pale marble, he resembled one of the sculptures commonly found in the ancient world.
Absolute wanker, thought Ron viscously.
"Ooh, that looks lovely on you, Malfoy!" said Hermione praisingly.
"It does, doesn't it?" he preened, strutting past an increasingly furious Ron to where Harry's changing room was. "Potter, what do you think?"
Harry's head of messy hair popped out of the changing room and he stared at Draco for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
"S'nice," he mumbled before disappearing back behind the curtain.
"What about my costume?" asked Ron keenly. Hermione tore her attention away from Draco to look at her boyfriend and bit her lip.
"Umm…"
"You look like Peter Pan," said Draco.
Ron frowned. "Who?"
"He's a man-child in a pair of tights who never grows up," Draco smirked. "Remind you of anyone that we know?"
"Yeah, he reminds me of you," said Ron angrily.
"I'll have you know that Peter Pan is one of the Muggle world's greatest literary heroes," Hermione offered.
"Let's see what Potter thinks, shall we?" said Draco brightly. "Potter! Come check out Weasley's costume!"
"I'll be out in a minute!" he cried.
Draco clicked his tongue impatiently and marched over to Harry's changing room, popping his head through the curtain. "What's taking you so long? You've been in here for ages."
"It's this costume," Ron heard Harry grumble. "It's got too many straps and buckles, I'm having a hell of a time putting it together."
"Do you need a hand putting it on?"
"No, I'm almost done…"
A moment later, Harry threw back the curtain and stepped out of his changing room, finally unveiling his costume. Ron's mouth fell open in shock and Hermione covered her mouth, muttering "oh my!" under her breath. Ron now understood why it had taken Harry so long to assemble his outfit: he wore a galea helmet that was far too large for his head, bronze greaves with a forearm guard on one arm and a manica on the other, each secured with several leather buckles and straps. The complex leather harness which the armguard was attached to comprised of studded leather and several metal hoops, which Ron thought was a rather impractical addition to an outfit supposedly designed for combat. Curiously, Harry's chest was almost entirely exposed, which seemed like a major design flaw for armour. He was wearing what Ron assumed was supposed to be a Roman gladiator outfit, only this was much more...revealing.
"It's too much, isn't it?" Harry grimaced.
"Not enough, I'd argue," Hermione muttered. "Where's the rest of the costume?"
"I think it suits you," Draco simpered.
"You look like one of the blokes in Charlie's dirty magazines," Ron chipped in.
"Yeah, I don't know about this," said Harry uncertainly. He tried desperately to pull down the obscenely short leather loincloth so that he could cover his knobbly knees but to no avail. A blush crept up his cheeks as Draco's eyes dragged over his form.
"I don't see what the problem is," said Draco casually.
"I mean, it's not really suitable weather to be wearing this, is it?" Harry continued. "It's October and we're in the Scottish Highlands."
"Cast a warming charm, then," Draco suggested.
"You don't think it's a tad inappropriate for Harry to walk about Hogwarts with a bare chest?" said Hermione.
"Certainly not!" said Draco. "Besides, it's common knowledge that gladiators fought with bare chests; the Romans viewed it as a symbol of masculine virility."
Harry pushed the overly large helmet from his eyes and gave Draco an incredulous look.
"What's wrong with my masculine virility?" he demanded.
"Never mind that," Hermione cut in. "That outfit is completely inaccurate! Your shin guards would be leather, not bronze, that helmet you're wearing would have been worn by a Roman soldier, not a gladiator, and your shield would have been square, not round! And the loincloth...well, to be fair the loincloth is accurate," she conceded before shaking her head in disbelief. "No. The costume is all wrong. You'll just have to pick another one."
"Is there anything about the costume that you do like?" asked Draco testily.
Hermione scrutinised Harry's appearance for a moment. "The short sword is also historically accurate, so that's fine."
"Well, thank Merlin for that," said Draco sarcastically.
"The sword is pretty cool," said Harry keenly, unsheathing it from its scabbard and swinging it from side to side.
"Never mind your costume, what about mine?" said Ron, lifting his arms and turning on the spot for Harry to see him from all angles. "What do you think?"
Harry screwed up his face. "Are you supposed to be Peter Pan?"
Ron's arms fell by his sides in defeat. Ignoring Draco's laughter, he stormed back into his changing room and drew the curtain closed behind him before tossing the feather cap on the ground in frustration. He'd had enough of playing dress-up for one day.
Ron had emerged from the changing room a couple of minutes later wearing his normal clothes and announced that he was going to the pub. After purchasing their costumes, Hermione had followed after him, wishing Harry and Draco good luck in their search for the perfect outfit. After waving them off, Harry—now wearing a Superman costume—turned to Draco and sighed.
"Why is it that every costume you've suggested to me so far is form-fitting or exposes a lot of skin?" he queried. Draco smirked and gave a slight shrug.
"Sheer coincidence," he lied. "Alright, since none of my costume choices have been to your liking so far, tell me what you're looking for."
Harry thought for a moment. "Something with a sword would be cool."
"Figured as much," Draco teased, smiling at him.
"Nothing that's too much hassle to put on or take off again," Harry continued. "And something that will hide my face."
"You want a mask?" asked Draco curiously.
Harry shrugged. "It's a rare chance for me to spend a whole evening where nobody knows who I am."
"Yes, that does sound appealing," said Draco thoughtfully. "Pop back into the changing room and take off that outfit. I might have seen something to your liking already."
"Usually I like to be taken out to dinner first before I take my clothes off for someone," Harry joked.
Draco smiled and rolled his eyes before marching back out to the front of the shop and out of sight. Harry pulled the curtain closed again and stripped out of the red and blue leotard as quickly as he could. Although he liked the cape, he was glad to be rid of this particular outfit; it was stifling hot to wear and kept riding up his rear end. Who would have thought that being the Man of Steel could be so uncomfortable? A moment later, Draco's arm appeared through the curtain brandishing a new outfit.
"Try this on for size," he suggested.
Harry took the proffered costume from Draco's outstretched hand and frowned. The outfit was all black, with a cordobes, cape and rapier. Unsure of what it was, Harry quickly pulled on the costume and inspected his reflection in the mirror. Slipping on the black cloth veil mask, he carefully placed the wide-brimmed hat atop his head and smiled. Drawing back the curtain, he stepped out of the changing room to show Draco how the costume looked.
"This is perfect," he declared.
Draco smiled at him and nodded, "I quite agree. Shame that there's no skin on display but it still suits you. What is the costume of? I just saw the sword and mask and thought it was what you were looking for."
Harry drew his rapier and brandished it through the air with the ease and grace of a wand. "I am Zorro! The masked vigilante who defends the poor and victimised against the forces of injustice. Have at thee!"
"Good Godric," Draco groaned. "If I had known that, I'd have picked something else for you to wear. Your saviour complex is bad enough as it is."
Harry chuckled and sheathed his sword. "You know, if you read enough books, a hero's story always turns out the same: he beats the bad guy, finds the treasure, rescues the maiden…"
Draco huffed and crossed his arms. "I am not a maiden and I don't need rescuing, thank you very much."
"I know." Harry took a step closer to Draco and whispered in his ear. "But the end of the story is always sealed with a kiss. Or a bedroom door closing…"
Draco's eyes widened with understanding and he grinned. "Ah...well, that's a part of the story that I can get behind."
Checking that the coast was clear, Harry and Draco slipped into the empty changing room and pulled the curtain closed again. The first thing that Harry noticed was how little space there was to move in the small changing room—not that Harry was complaining—he and Draco were forced to stand with their chests pressed together. The next thing he noticed was Draco's erection pressed against his thigh. A mischievous smile crept across Draco's face and he pressed closer, gently pushing Harry's back against the mirror.
"Well, isn't this cosy," he whispered suggestively.
Harry grinned and rested his hands on Draco's hips. He was always happy to seize opportunities like this as they arose, and if he and Draco happened to find themselves alone for a few precious minutes, he'd be foolish not to take advantage of that.
"I dunno, I think it's just the right size for the two of us." Harry closed the distance between them and kissed him soundly. He felt the ache of want between his legs grow as Draco slipped his hand down his trousers and stroked him, humming with approval as Harry grew hard in his grip.
"Mmm, someone's eager," he chuckled against Harry's lips.
"It's your fault," Harry teased, lacing his fingers through Draco's hair and kissing his jaw. "When I saw you in that toga, I just wanted to tear it off of you and have my way with you right there and then."
"Then my cunning plan worked," said Draco, sounding pleased with himself.
It went without saying that they would have to be quiet, lest the poor shopkeeper found them as they would most definitely get kicked out, and wouldn't that be embarrassing. Still, the risk of getting caught wasn't enough to dissuade Harry from engaging in a very quick and very quiet hookup with his boyfriend. On the contrary, the risk of getting caught made it more exciting. But Harry wasn't worried about getting caught because he knew he could be quiet if he needed to be. He'd spent several years sharing a dormitory with four other teenage boys: he had 'keeping quiet' down to an art form now.
Harry tossed the hat onto the floor and went to remove the mask but Draco stopped him. "Leave it on," he breathed, catching Harry's lips in another searing kiss.
So, Draco had a thing for masks, too: Harry made a mental note of that. He tugged on Draco's belt but his eyes flew open in surprise as Draco grabbed both of his wrists in a vice-like grip and moved them to Harry's sides. Harry's breathing quickened as Draco loomed closer, his hot, steady breaths tickling the bare flesh of Harry's neck.
"Let's play a game," he said silkily, taking the lobe of Harry's ear between his teeth and tugging it. A sharp, delicious spark of pain and pleasure shot through Harry's whole body and his eyes fluttered shut. "Keep your hands by your sides. Let's see how long you can resist touching me or yourself."
Harry suppressed a groan and nodded vigorously in response. His breathing stuttered as Draco's teasing bite turned gentle, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to Harry's neck as his fingers slipped back beneath Harry's trousers and boxers. When Draco wrapped his fingers around his cock, he couldn't help the needy moan that escaped his lips. Draco quickly covered Harry's mouth with his free hand, smothering another desperate whimper, while his other continued to run up and down Harry's shaft.
"Shh…" he purred. "You wouldn't want anyone to catch you like this, hmm? Pinned against the mirror with your legs spread and moaning while I pump your cock. You wouldn't want everyone to see what a dirty boy you are, how much you enjoy getting fucked by me…"
Harry's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he groaned. The things that Draco was saying, the way he was looking at Harry—as though he wanted to devour him—the way he was expertly moving his hand back and forth across Harry's length in long, smooth strokes...it wouldn't take long before Harry was beyond the point of no return. Draco seemed to sense this, his grip growing slick as Harry's cock wept precome, so he slowed his movements down to a torturously slow pace. Desperate for Draco to speed up, Harry began thrusting his hips into Draco's tight fist, his breaths coming out in sharp, shallow pants against the palm of Draco's hand. Draco clicked his tongue in disapproval and his expression grew predatory.
"My my, you are quite impatient, aren't you, Potter?" he teased, giving Harry's already painfully hard cock a tight squeeze. Harry gasped and struggled to keep his hands to himself, desperately grasping his hands against the slippery surface of the mirror for purchase and finding none. Draco lowered his hand from Harry's mouth. "You're really desperate to come, aren't you?"
"Please, Draco..." Harry panted.
His mind was a fog of lust and he couldn't figure out what else to say, but Draco just smiled and picked up the pace of his hand, understanding without having to be told. An intense surge of pleasure rose up from the pit of Harry's stomach as Draco quickly stroked him closer and closer to climax.
"Fuck, Harry, you look so sexy like this," said Draco, his voice deep and husky. "I wish we were back up at the castle right now. Then I could sink my cock into your tight, wet hole and fuck you into the bed."
"Oh my god…" Harry whimpered. His skin erupted in goosebumps as Draco slipped his hand under his shirt and dragged his nails across Harry's bare flesh, brushing the tips of his fingers across his sensitive nipples. Harry gasped as Draco took his right nipple between his index finger and thumb and gave it a light squeeze. Harry's breathing was quicker now, heavier, louder. He was so caught up with the feeling of his impending orgasm he had completely forgotten where they were and who might be listening.
"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" said Draco roughly. "If I fucked you and bred you. Made you mine…"
"Ohgodohfuck, uh uh uh…." Harry stammered as Draco sped up his ministrations. "D-Draco, I'm gonna—oh fuck!"
Harry's back arched as his orgasm tore through him. He had no idea how loud he screamed but he was fairly certain they would be able to hear him in the castle dungeons. So much for staying quiet. But for those precious, perfect few moments, Harry couldn't care less who heard him because he was flying...
In a daze, Harry slumped back against the mirror, hitting it with a loud thud and panting hard. It took him a few moments to regain his faculties and slowly, he opened his eyes and looked up into Draco's face. He was wearing an expression that Harry had never seen before, almost like he was drunk—drunk on Harry. There was a hunger in his eyes too, one that Harry could imagine the origin of all too well since he could feel the same want tear at him from the inside. The sight made him groan and he pulled Draco forward and kissed him hard, hoping to convey in one kiss the storm of emotions raging inside of him. When he finally pulled away, he pressed his forehead into Draco's shoulder and sighed.
"I'm pretty sure we've just secured ourselves a lifetime ban from this shop," he grimaced. Draco chuckled and kissed the crown of Harry's head.
"Do you really think I'd risk us getting caught? I cast a wandless silencing charm as I entered the room. You could scream your head off to your heart's content, nobody can hear a thing."
Harry lifted his head and gave Draco a playful shove. "So all that talk about me needing to be quiet was for nothing?"
"Not for nothing," Draco countered. "Believing that you could get caught is half the fun, isn't it?"
Harry couldn't argue with that. Although he was a little miffed at the deception, ultimately, he was glad that their little tryst remained private. Draco checked his reflection in the mirror and straightened his shirt, looking very pleased with himself.
"That said, I've already spent a suspicious length of time in here. I better skedaddle."
"What about you?" asked Harry. "I want to return the favour."
"We can do that later this evening," Draco assured him with a devilish grin. "We still have to rehearse tonight."
He pressed a quick kiss to Harry's lips before slipping back out of the changing room as though nothing had happened, leaving Harry in a debauched state. Harry spelled himself clean and slowly got redressed into his normal clothes, still feeling a little punch-drunk from his orgasm. He hadn't been particularly looking forward to this shopping trip but as always, Draco had not only made it fun but memorable. He only wished that Draco and Ron would get on better with one another but he knew that was wishful thinking. Still, they had refrained from exchanging more than verbal insults, so overall, this interaction had been their most civil to date. As far as Harry was concerned, that was a remarkable amount of progress.
Checking his appearance in the mirror one last time, Harry smiled to himself, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, the smile was a genuine one. Not the fake one he'd had to plaster across his face when he met fans or spoke to government officials, but a real one. Because this was the happiest he'd felt in a very long time, and he knew that was largely thanks to one person in particular. Harry grabbed the Zorro costume and exited the changing room with a definite spring in his step. It seemed that, against all odds, this was shaping up to be his best year at Hogwarts ever.