Title: Sign, Symbol, Token
By: PepperjackCandy
Rating: PG13 (up to "second base" explicit, beyond that implied)
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for a time.

Warning: This will be a slash story (Harry/Draco) eventually, though romantically-slashy, rather than erotically-slashy. Hence the PG-13 rating.

Chapter 20 – Adventures in Haberdashery
Draco broadens his horizons.
Harry gets a surprise.

A/N: In my universe, wizards (particularly purists like the Malfoys) wear underwear, not muggle clothing, beneath their robes. Based on the prevalent ff.com theory that muggle and wizard cultures were the same until around the "burning times" (circa 1300 a.d.), men wear medieval underpants called braies (probably most like the top picture) and women wear a sort of linen slip/kirtle-type thing.

And, after research I think that maybe "haberdashery" is an American term. It means men's clothing.

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Sure enough, the next morning, as Harry walked back towards the Gryffindor Tower, Draco intercepted him and dragged him off toward Dumbledore's office.

"So," he asked as they walked, "can you predict owls from *anyone's* father?"

Harry smiled and shook his head. "No. Just yours."

Draco looked askance at Harry, who grinned and explained. "It's my scar. It hurts whenever Voldemort is planning something against me. I figured if Voldemort had an idea last night, we'd be hearing it from your father today. So? What did he say?"

Draco shook his head and pulled Harry in for a kiss. "Oh, no. You'll just have to wait until we get to Dumbledore's office."

When they reached the gargoyle, they were joined by Snape, who gave the password, Lemon Lifts, and the three went up to Dumbledore's office.

"So, I take it you've heard from your father again?" Dumbledore asked as they took their usual seats in his office.

"Yes, sir." Draco took out the note and read it aloud to the other three, "Crabbe and Goyle tell me that you're making progress with Potter. The Dark Lord says that we must move on to the next phase of our plan. Send me word by return owl when you've found a ruby the size and shape of a hen's egg. It is probably located near the entrance."

Dumbledore let out a low whistle. "He's good."

Draco and Harry noticed that Snape was silently fuming. They could practically see the smoke coming from the Potions Master's ears.

"What's that mean?" Harry asked, "a ruby the size and shape of a hen's egg?"

"Voldemort's plan is to strike here. At Hogwarts. The ruby is the source of the charm that prevents Apparating and Disapparating on campus." Snape snapped.

Harry's heart stopped and he could see from the increased pallor on Draco's face that his boyfriend had the same thought. "But -- here? What about the students?"

"We'll have to send them home." Snape said.

"Not necessarily, Severus." Dumbledore responded. "Remember, we're forewarned. We can control, to some extent at least, the timing of his strike."

"To what end?" The Potions Master sneered.

"To the end of having the barrier removed at the beginning of the winter break. Most of the students go home for the break, and of those few who remain, we'll send all of the students except for Harry to stay in Hogsmeade until after we've disposed of Voldemort."

"And Potter will, of course, be a decoy." Snape gave Harry a grin that bordered on malicious.

"Perhaps he will, Severus. But perhaps it will be he who, once again, has the power to defeat Voldemort."

"What?!?" Snape exclaimed, outraged. "Is it not enough that so many of our number died to stop the Dark Lord before, only to have a one year old **child** do what your extensive network of spies could not? Is all of my work once again to be in vain?!?"

Harry's eyes widened. "That's why you've hated me all these years."

"Yes." A wild-eyed Snape responded. "Yes, it is. You were the fabulous, famous Boy Who Lived, while my comrades, my friends, my . . . ." He visibly cut that thought short. "We suffered and died for the cause, and all along, all we needed to do was hit 'im with your forehead!"

"But, Professor Snape," Harry offered in a soft tone. "I didn't know . . ."

"You didn't *care*!"

"Don't you talk to him that way!" Draco leapt to his feet and yelled directly into Snape's face. "He lost *everything* that night!"

"Not everything." Snape responded coldly. "He's still breathing."

The two young men stared Snape down, each of the three refusing to budge, until Dumbledore's voice brought them back to attention.

"Excuse me, Severus, Harry, Draco."

All three looked, reluctantly, at Dumbledore.

"It seems to me that this is something we needed to get out into the open. I'm glad we've finally gotten here." Dumbledore said, ever the voice of reason.

"Severus, would you like to express your grievance to Harry in a more civilized tone?"

With a visible application of will, Snape calmed down and said, "I am. . . upset that no-one ever gave any of my comrades the credit they deserve for their sacrifices. Instead, everyone looks to Potter as their salvation from the Dark Lord."

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked, "Is there anything you'd care to say in response?"

"Yes, sir. Professor Snape," Harry turned his green eyes on the Potions Master, "I am very sorry that the contributions of you and your friends are overlooked, but that's none of my doing. I was raised among Muggles and until I got my acceptance letter to Hogwarts had no idea of any of this. Until they were forcibly restored by things like the Dementors, my only memory of that night was a flash of green light."

Snape opened his mouth to raise an objection, but Harry beat him to it. "I know, I've been at Hogwarts for seven years now, and have never said anything about your contribution. Because I. didn't. know. about. it." He enunciated clearly.

"The only reason I ever found out about you working as a spy for Professor Dumbledore in the first place was because I sort of stumbled into his Pensieve in my fourth year and lived through Karkaroff's trial, when he named you a Death Eater, and Professor Dumbledore defended you. Hardly the sort of thing I could just begin a conversation with you about. 'Say, Professor Snape, I was eavesdropping on Professor Dumbledore's private thoughts, and . . .'" Harry shrugged, to illustrate the futility of that line of reasoning.

Snape looked over at Dumbledore, then back at Harry, giving the young Gryffindor a half-smile. "Haven't you learned yet, Potter, that nothing having to do with Albus is ever an accident."

"Well, I wouldn't say 'never,' Severus," Dumbledore responded, blushing slightly.

"*Nearly* nothing having to do with Albus is an accident." Snape corrected himself pointedly. "Tell me, Potter. How did you happen onto Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve? I'll bet you just happened to be left alone in the room with it."

"Something like that."

"I thought so. Unless I miss my guess, Albus *wanted* you to know about my history. Did you see anything else?"

Harry nodded. "Barty Crouch, and Ludo Bagman." Harry paused and added, sincerely, "I really didn't know about . . . everything that happened, Professor Snape. And I'd like to learn more, if you'd tell me."

Snape nodded solemnly and Harry thought that perhaps he and the Potions Master would be finding peace between them soon. "I should have been willing to give you the benefit of the doubt," he admitted, "but I lost someone important to me during the war against Voldemort. It was in her memory that I went back to the side of the Light."

Harry was taken aback by the sorrow in Snape's eyes. He'd never thought of Snape that way before, as someone who'd been in love once. "I'm sorry." Harry apologized sincerely, unconsciously reaching across for Draco's hand.

"I know, and I'm sorry for taking it so personally, as well." Snape responded as sincerely.

"So, now that we've cleared all that up, why don't we finalize the next step of our plans and then adjourn?" Dumbledore asked. "Draco, please owl your father back and tell him that you'll begin searching and that you'll send him another owl when you've found the ruby, which will, coincidentally enough, be the day before you return home for winter break."

"But --" Draco insisted. "I don't want to leave Harry to face the Dark Lord alone!"

"Which would you prefer, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked. "To be here to support him, or to go home to keep up appearances and ensure his safety?"

Draco swallowed hard. "I'll go home, sir."

"I thought you would."

The four conspirators separated then. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Harry and Draco went into a nearby disused classroom to say their farewells.

After they'd kissed, Harry said, "See you tonight." and was rewarded with Draco's most charming smirk. "What?" Harry asked.

"Nothing." Draco said. Harry could tell he was lying.

"Come on, Draco." Harry cuddled up to his boyfriend, nuzzling Draco just behind his jaw.

"Oh, no. You'll find out soon enough." Draco smiled and evaded Harry's next lunge. "See you tonight." He winked at Harry and left the room.

Harry spent the rest of the day extremely distracted, wondering what it was that Draco had planned for that night. He was certain it would be a good surprise, but it was driving him mad that he didn't know exactly what the surprise would be.

Finally, night fell and as the moon climbed the cloud-scattered sky, Harry made his way to the Astronomy Tower. Draco was already there waiting, smiling a secretive half-grin.

"So? What's your surprise?" Harry asked.

"You'll have to find out for yourself." Draco teased.

Harry and Draco shared a long, lingering kiss then. Harry grasped at his boyfriend's back, then as his hands drifted lower, he pulled away from the kiss and looked curiously at Draco. "What do you have under your robes?" Instead of the smoothness of Draco's usual linen wizarding underwear, he felt something . . . bulkier.

Draco grinned. "That's my surprise. I hope you like it." He added nervously as his hands went to the buttons on his robe.

A moment later, the tall, blond Slytherin stood bathed in moonlight wearing a formfitting gray T-shirt and blue jeans.

"Muggle clothing?" Harry asked astounded. His eyes traveled up and down Draco's lithe form, and he unconsciously touched the corners of his mouth to see if he was drooling.

"Yes." Draco shrugged. "I've never worn muggle clothing before. I hope you like it. I also hope they're on right." He added dubiously.

"Yes, they're on right. And as for whether I like them . . ." Harry grabbed a handful of they gray knit fabric of Draco's shirt and pulled him in for a kiss that left no doubt whether Harry liked them.

A while later, during which Harry got the opportunity of skinning the gray T-shirt from Draco's body, they lay together in a pool of moonlight on the floor. "So, was that definitive enough for you?" Harry asked, grinning against Draco's chest.

"Mm-hmmm." Draco agreed, lifting his head and kissing the top of Harry's head. "Muggle clothes are very confusing, aren't they?"

"Well, I guess they would be if you aren't used to them. What happened? And how did you get these?" Harry rolled over onto his stomach and rested his chin on his arms.

"In reverse order, I got them from Hagrid. He has a friend who sells muggle clothes and so he took my robe measurements and got his friend to send these to me. Of course, Hagrid spent a lot of time mumbling about how he'll kill me if I ever hurt you, which I'd never, ever do.

"And, well, these weren't so bad," he indicated his jeans, "but I think I put the shirt on backwards the first time. The, whasis ..., tag, goes in the back, right?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, the tag goes in the back."

"I thought as much. With it in the front, the collar pressed in here." He pointed at the base of his throat. "Very uncomfortable. So I put it on the other way, and it came down around here," he indicated his collarbones, "and was much more comfortable."

"You got the pants on right, though."

Draco nodded. "That was easy. My braies tie in the front. I figured this thing," he pointed at the fly, "would go in front, too."

"How did you get your braies on under those?"

Draco shook his head. "I didn't."

"So what did you do for underwear?"

"Underwear?"

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Next: Fluff with a side of Angst