Lucius wove his way around the Dark Lord's Very Secret Hiding Place for a while, trying to think and failing. He discovered soon enough that being cross eyed lead quite naturally to bumping into things. In the hallways this did not present too much of a problem, since the only thing he could bump into was the wall, but one particularly misplaced move brought him into a room he had never seen before.

What he could see of the room consisted mostly of walls and cabinets. The cabinets stood at about his height, and he made his wavering way towards the nearest one to examine its contents. But despite the fact that the cabinet was less than three feet away, he could not complete the journey.

With a resounding crash of breaking glass and splintering wood, he tripped on absolutely nothing and fell face first into the cabinet. The door fell open, revealing the source of the sound of breaking glass as bottles full of amber liquid dropped to the floor. One of them had been broken by his fall, and another came apart as it hit the floor, but most of them remained relatively intact.

Lucius reached out with a shaking hand, cutting one of his fingers on the broken glass in the process, and submerged it in the spilled liquid. He raised it, dripping, to his face, and took a lick, tasting alcohol and blood.

The alcohol went straight to his already dizzy head, and the room blurred even more than he had thought was possible. For some reason he found this inexplicably funny, and he began to giggle. It came out high and shrill, and he paused for a moment to wonder do I always laugh like this? before collapsing into giggles again.

When the giggles finally stopped, his vision cleared slightly, allowing him to make out the cabinets around him. It occurred to him that there seemed to be twice as many as there had been when he had first entered the room, and he had just begun to contemplate this when eight Pissed Off Dark Lords came in and found him.

They stared at him for a second, sitting in the midst of broken glass and a pool of alcohol and giggling hysterically. How did all eight of them fit through the door? he wondered, before his drunken and banged up brain informed him that he was probably in trouble.

Then all of them smiled identical Very Evil Smiles, and greeted him in unison. "Why, Lucius, I was just looking for you."

"R-r-ealllly, My Lordssshh? Is you ready ta start build-n-ning yer cloned smarmy?" he drooled through lips that suddenly felt huge and clumsy.

"No, Lucius. We are going shopping."

---------------------

"Draco, I don't think this is going to work," Harry called from inside the dressing room. "I don't look funny, I just look stupid."

Draco snorted. "Believe me, Potter, you in drag has got to be the funniest thing I could ever imagine. Do you want to defeat the Dark Lord or not?"

"Yes, obviously. That's why I asked for your help in the first place. But now it seems less and less likely that Voldemort is going to take a look at me and die laughing. Honestly, Draco, I think you'd agree if you knew what I look like right now…"

"I promise you, Harry, it's going to work. Laughter is the Dark Lord's kryptonite."

Harry poked his head through the curtain, hair even more messy than usual from pulling on multiple sets of clothing and face full of surprise. "Draco…did you just quote a Muggle comic?"

"Absolutely not," he denied viciously, shaking his head. "Let me see how that combination looks on you," he added in an attempt to change the subject.

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't press the matter. "Alright, but I warned you. I look really, really stupid."

"Just come out here where I can see you, okay? Stop being so stubborn."

"It's part of my Gryffindor charm," Harry protested, but he pulled aside the curtain and stepped out.

Draco's jaw dropped. When he had taken Harry to the Hogsmeade costume shop and picked out the leather corset, skirt, and boots combination, he had thought that the sight of Harry in them would make him laugh hysterically. The sudden rerouting of all the blood in his body to his groin was certainly unexpected.

"Merlin, you're hot," he whispered.

Harry had caught a flash of fire in his ex-rival's eyes, and the husky quality of his voice caused a burst of interest and arousal to stir within him.

"What did you say?" he whispered back.

Bloody hell, did I just say that out loud? Again? Draco shook himself in an attempt to return to his normal, controlled manner. "I started to say, 'that's not funny', but I was cut off by the, erm, unfunniness of it."

"That's not what you said," Harry said softly, moving closer. Draco's eyes widened but he didn't say anything. "Besides, Draco, unfunniness isn't a real word."

Then he leaned forward and silenced any protests Draco might have voiced with a kiss.