Just a Skirt
Title: Just a Skirt
Rating: NC17
Genre: Smut/General/Humor
Length: 2282, oneshot
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: His friends consider it strange but that doesn't stop Harry from wearing a skirt to the latest Ministry party.
Warning: cross-dressing
Note: Dedicated to my sister because it's her fault crossdresser Harry floated in my mind and refused to leave until written. Written for hp_challenge 'scarlet.'
Harry had a desire. It was a strange desire, if one consulted his friends. But to Harry it wasn't weird. It was...right. That's what it felt like. Every time he tore off those trousers, stiff from laundry detergent, and slipped on soft, silky, wavy, skirts his body sighed in relief. No, it didn't feel strange to him. Only to other people.
Of course, his friends tried to act like they were okay with it. Ron just plain ignored it, but he didn't say anything rude. Once Harry had paraded in front of him with a skirt on just to see what he would say. Almost anything but something about the skirt. Fred and George indulged him with jokes, but he knew they whispered behind his back because he had caught them once. Hermione kept thinking he needed to 'talk about it' but to appear as if she was supportive she bought him a skirt every Christmas. Ginny was probably the best at handling it for she sometimes borrowed Harry's skirts, even consenting to shopping with him once. Once, because Harry couldn't handle shopping with someone as shopping-crazy as Ginny.
Digging through his closet, Harry pulled out his favourite scarlet skirt. It was short and a soft cloth material that Ginny told him clung to his arsecheeks whenever he walked. With a heavy sigh and clenched shut eyes, Harry slid it on. Deciding to be simple and prevent the other guests from going into early cardiac arrest, he choose a simple button-down shirt and men's dress shoes. He never was one for matching shoes.
Before he could back out he threw floo power into the fireplace, watching it change color, and stepped in, yelling "Ministry of Magic!"
At first no one noticed him. It was rather crowded. Quickly, before anyone could stumble out of the fireplace behind him, Harry lost himself in the crowd, one lady apologizing for bumping into him by saying "So sorry, ma'am."
"Harry," a voice hissed in his ear. He jumped and turned around, relishing in the way his skirt swished about his thighs. Maybe it was a little too short. He was pretty sure anyone who happened to be looking caught a glimpse of his thong. Man thong, though that didn't seem to pacify Ron.
"What are you doing?" Hermione was practically spitting fire. Harry looked around. No one had noticed him. Hermione didn't know what she was talking about.
"No one notices, Hermione."
Someone scoffed. "Talk about seeing only what you want to see."
Slowly Harry turned his head. He only knew of one other person who had a voice that condescending. Only one other person who could talk in such an effective drawl. Sure enough, Draco Malfoy was standing beside him, ogling his skirt.
The last time Harry had seen Malfoy was at a Ministry hearing three years ago. With the war over and Malfoy caught, Harry testified on his behalf. The only thing Malfoy had done was not kill Dumbledore, having went into hiding soon after. That crime didn't seem so big compared to everything else that happened during the war. Compared to things Harry himself had done.
Thinking back on it, Malfoy never did thank him for saving his arse when he clearly had better things to do.
Hermione groaned, "I cannot deal with this." Harry wasn't sure if she was talking about him wearing a skirt outside the comfort and security of his house for others to see, or Malfoy being there. He rather liked to think it was the latter and since she had already stalked off Harry decided that was the case.
Malfoy was still ogling his skirt. Harry didn't think it was that surprising. Though, Ron had fallen off the couch and cracked his head on the coffee table first time he saw.
"What?" Harry snapped, ready to dash off. He had just caught Seamus Finnigan by the bar. They always drank and made fun of people together at the stupid ministry parties.
"Never pegged you for a cross-dresser," Malfoy said, voice strained.
Harry gave him a questioning look and, oddly enough, he flushed.
"Shit," breathed Malfoy, and Harry wasn't even sure he heard it. "You even shave your legs."
With a sneer Harry stormed off, just knowing his skirt flipped up to display his thong for the world to see. But Harry really didn't mind at the time. If Malfoy was going to make cracks about that... Harry just didn't think hairy legs went well with skirts, that was all.
Seamus raised a questioning eyebrow at Harry's skirt and murmured, "Scarlet," but otherwise didn't say anything. He was one of the many people who didn't know about Harry's habit. The only reason Harry had decided to show the world -- he was sure a camera just flashed his way -- that he wore skirts was because he didn't feel like hiding it. And he was Harry bloody Potter, savior of the wizarding world. They would have to love him. Right?
"Does that lady have a furry little animal on her upper lip?" Seamus asked, his Irish accent almost gone now that he was drinking. Harry always found it odd that his accent disappeared when intoxicated. Then he became tipsy and found it absolutely mind puzzling.
"Naw, I think it's a mustache. So, I've figured out that the alcohol eats away the accent part of your voice box and makes you have a normal voice." Harry tapped his chin, realizing the moment it left his mouth that it didn't sound quite right. But it also let him know that he wasn't drunk yet, just bubbly. If he could still question everything that left his mouth he wasn't too far gone. He happened to have a very loose tongue when tipsy.
Their glasses clinked together as Seamus leaned forward to stare into Harry's eyes. "Me do think the lady's drunk."
"I'm not a lady!" Harry shrieked, appalled. Not even Fred or George had called him that!
"Me do think the lady protests too much. Drink up me harties yo ho!" His fingers curled tighter around the glass and he threw the contents into the back of his throat.
That sentence was so different from the previous one that Harry found his anger ebbing away and he burst out in side-splitting laughter. Seamus was such a funny drunk.
"Ay, ay, ay," Seamus repeated, poking Harry's arm a little too roughly. Harry rubbed the tender spot and curled his legs under his arse, watching the scarlet material curve around every movement. He nodded at Seamus to continue. "Malfoy's watching you."
Harry looked up. Following Seamus' pointing glass he locked eyes with the white-blond haired man. Malfoy was so uncomfortable with Harry wearing a skirt and he wasn't even talking to him. With a grin Harry stood and sauntered to Malfoy.
"Hey," he said, jabbing a finger into Malfoy's chest. "If I bother you so much just say so instead of staring." He moved forward, trying to push his finger harder. "Not that I care if it bothers you."
"You're drunk," Malfoy pointed out, his eyes downcast. Harry looked to where Malfoy was looking and saw his skirt was flipped up, his whole right leg showing. He pushed the fabric down and huffed, raking his eyes over Malfoy's trousers to find some sort of imperfection he could stare at in return. He eyes caught sight of...
The haze over his head seemed to subside as the information that Malfoy was aroused registered. He felt his own cock twitch at that. Harry had forgotten how easily aroused he became whenever he was tipsy. And it never failed to help him think more, except for the fact that the blood working his brain was descending further south.
"Oh," Harry muttered. He felt more than saw Malfoy's eyes slide off Harry's skirt to his own trousers.
"Yeah."
After a long silence in which they both stared at the bulge in Malfoy's trousers, Harry said, "You're a pervert."
"Says the bloke wearing a skirt."
Suddenly Harry felt his fingers curl over the bulge. He most definitely had to be tipsy still because he would never have actually done that.
"Potter," Malfoy purred, moving closer and closing his hands over Harry's arse, the thin scarlet fabric separating him from touching skin. Just when Malfoy's hands traveled lower and reached his thigh, Harry jumped. Partly because Malfoy's hands were cold but mostly because a bloke near them had choked on his martini, wide eyes staring at them.
"Shall we move this to somewhere more private?" Malfoy asked, his fingers not halting in their determination to go under the skirt. Just when cold finger-pads brushed the bottom curve of his arse, Harry squeaked and grabbed Malfoy's sleeve, pulling him to the nearest door.
A voice called out to him but he didn't really care what Hermione was trying to say, because Malfoy's other hand was playing with the band of his skirt and he was way more interested in getting into an empty room.
After growing desperate from going room to room they found an empty office and Malfoy promptly shut the door behind it, whispering a silencing and locking spell before tossing his wand on a leather chair. Harry stood there, feeling naked in his skirt. Were they going to.... Harry hadn't done anything with a bloke in half a year. Would he remember what to do? The fact that it was Malfoy didn't seem to bother him so he didn't focus on it.
Leaving Harry no time to decide if he should continue or not, Malfoy shoved him on the desk, one hand teasing its way up his skirt. Harry squirmed, trying to move the stapler from digging in his lower back. Malfoy pulled Harry's wand out of the tiny, convenient, inside pocket of his skirt -- it instantly enlarging to normal shape -- and clearing the desk with a sweep of it. With a clatter that sounded very loud to Harry, it fell to the floor.
"Erm," Harry hesitated, scooting on the desk better and angling so that he was laying long ways. That way his whole body but knees down could fit. Malfoy hovered over him, staring. He sat back for a view of Harry's skirt. That had to be the first person who liked Harry in a skirt.
"So god-damn sexy." Harry barely saw Malfoy's lips move but then the skirt was flipped up to lay on his stomach and his thong was around his ankles. When had that happened, was all Harry could think before Malfoy's mouth was on his cock.
Harry gurgled, arching up and bending his head so far back it hurt. But it felt so good. Malfoy's hands snuck under his arse and trailed a line between his arsecheeks. Then it disappeared, and Harry barely had time to register the fact that it was in Malfoy's mouth with Harry's cock when it was prodding at his arsehole.
Malfoy's tongue was running up and down and left and right and Harry couldn't take it any longer. He dug his fingers into Malfoy's thin hair, gaining purchase. Malfoy sucked hard and it was a good thing he had done that. "Fuck, oh god, Malfoy," Harry moaned low in his throat.
Blearily, he felt another finger find its way into Harry's arse but did it really matter? They were moving in and out and eventually they were moving in time to the bobbing of Malfoy's head. Harry dropped his head to the desk, back arching.
Malfoy twisted his fingers just so and took Harry deep in his mouth, sucking hard as he pulled away. Toes curling, Harry came screaming.
When the ringing in his ears became quieter Harry looked down at Malfoy, who was resting his cheek against Harry's thigh. He hadn't even realized Malfoy came too but the proof was there in the front of his trousers.
Eventually Malfoy sat up, rousing Harry from drowsing. Carefully, Malfoy pulled Harry's thong up then smoothed his skirt down, the scarlet deep against the pale of his fingers.
"I like scarlet," he mused.
Harry snorted, lifting his head even though it felt so very heavy. "Scarlet's a Gryffindor color."
"We're out of school now, Potter." Ever so lightly his fingernail traced along the inside of Harry's thigh, making him shiver. "You should wear a skirt more often."
"Mmm." Harry let his head drop again.
"I'll be at the next ministry party," Malfoy whispered, his breath ghosting over Harry's lips.
Feeling like his eyelids were iron, Harry struggled to open them. "That's not until, what, next month?"
Lips closed over his and a tongue lazily slipped in, slowly waking Harry up. Once he started to get into it, flattening a hand down Malfoy's back and moaning softly, Malfoy pulled away.
"It's soon the holidays. They always have a Christmas party." He stood up and smoothed his shirt out. "So I'll see you there?"
"Maybe," Harry sighed, just wanting to fall asleep. It would have been nice if Malfoy would sleep with him. It had been a while since he slept with a warm body, even if Malfoy's hands were bloody cold.
"And you'll wear a skirt?" His voice seemed to be getting farther away.
"Maybe. Come sleep with me, won't you?" And he was much too tired to care that he'd said it out loud.
There was a slight pause where Malfoy hesitated. "Maybe for a bit," he yawned. Harry couldn't help the sleepy smile that spread across his face as Malfoy spooned against his back, breath rousing the little hairs at the nape of his neck, and fingers playing with the hem of his scarlet skirt.
Rating: NC17
Genre: Smut/General/Humor
Length: 2282, oneshot
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: His friends consider it strange but that doesn't stop Harry from wearing a skirt to the latest Ministry party.
Warning: cross-dressing
Note: Dedicated to my sister because it's her fault crossdresser Harry floated in my mind and refused to leave until written. Written for hp_challenge 'scarlet.'
Harry had a desire. It was a strange desire, if one consulted his friends. But to Harry it wasn't weird. It was...right. That's what it felt like. Every time he tore off those trousers, stiff from laundry detergent, and slipped on soft, silky, wavy, skirts his body sighed in relief. No, it didn't feel strange to him. Only to other people.
Of course, his friends tried to act like they were okay with it. Ron just plain ignored it, but he didn't say anything rude. Once Harry had paraded in front of him with a skirt on just to see what he would say. Almost anything but something about the skirt. Fred and George indulged him with jokes, but he knew they whispered behind his back because he had caught them once. Hermione kept thinking he needed to 'talk about it' but to appear as if she was supportive she bought him a skirt every Christmas. Ginny was probably the best at handling it for she sometimes borrowed Harry's skirts, even consenting to shopping with him once. Once, because Harry couldn't handle shopping with someone as shopping-crazy as Ginny.
Digging through his closet, Harry pulled out his favourite scarlet skirt. It was short and a soft cloth material that Ginny told him clung to his arsecheeks whenever he walked. With a heavy sigh and clenched shut eyes, Harry slid it on. Deciding to be simple and prevent the other guests from going into early cardiac arrest, he choose a simple button-down shirt and men's dress shoes. He never was one for matching shoes.
Before he could back out he threw floo power into the fireplace, watching it change color, and stepped in, yelling "Ministry of Magic!"
At first no one noticed him. It was rather crowded. Quickly, before anyone could stumble out of the fireplace behind him, Harry lost himself in the crowd, one lady apologizing for bumping into him by saying "So sorry, ma'am."
"Harry," a voice hissed in his ear. He jumped and turned around, relishing in the way his skirt swished about his thighs. Maybe it was a little too short. He was pretty sure anyone who happened to be looking caught a glimpse of his thong. Man thong, though that didn't seem to pacify Ron.
"What are you doing?" Hermione was practically spitting fire. Harry looked around. No one had noticed him. Hermione didn't know what she was talking about.
"No one notices, Hermione."
Someone scoffed. "Talk about seeing only what you want to see."
Slowly Harry turned his head. He only knew of one other person who had a voice that condescending. Only one other person who could talk in such an effective drawl. Sure enough, Draco Malfoy was standing beside him, ogling his skirt.
The last time Harry had seen Malfoy was at a Ministry hearing three years ago. With the war over and Malfoy caught, Harry testified on his behalf. The only thing Malfoy had done was not kill Dumbledore, having went into hiding soon after. That crime didn't seem so big compared to everything else that happened during the war. Compared to things Harry himself had done.
Thinking back on it, Malfoy never did thank him for saving his arse when he clearly had better things to do.
Hermione groaned, "I cannot deal with this." Harry wasn't sure if she was talking about him wearing a skirt outside the comfort and security of his house for others to see, or Malfoy being there. He rather liked to think it was the latter and since she had already stalked off Harry decided that was the case.
Malfoy was still ogling his skirt. Harry didn't think it was that surprising. Though, Ron had fallen off the couch and cracked his head on the coffee table first time he saw.
"What?" Harry snapped, ready to dash off. He had just caught Seamus Finnigan by the bar. They always drank and made fun of people together at the stupid ministry parties.
"Never pegged you for a cross-dresser," Malfoy said, voice strained.
Harry gave him a questioning look and, oddly enough, he flushed.
"Shit," breathed Malfoy, and Harry wasn't even sure he heard it. "You even shave your legs."
With a sneer Harry stormed off, just knowing his skirt flipped up to display his thong for the world to see. But Harry really didn't mind at the time. If Malfoy was going to make cracks about that... Harry just didn't think hairy legs went well with skirts, that was all.
Seamus raised a questioning eyebrow at Harry's skirt and murmured, "Scarlet," but otherwise didn't say anything. He was one of the many people who didn't know about Harry's habit. The only reason Harry had decided to show the world -- he was sure a camera just flashed his way -- that he wore skirts was because he didn't feel like hiding it. And he was Harry bloody Potter, savior of the wizarding world. They would have to love him. Right?
"Does that lady have a furry little animal on her upper lip?" Seamus asked, his Irish accent almost gone now that he was drinking. Harry always found it odd that his accent disappeared when intoxicated. Then he became tipsy and found it absolutely mind puzzling.
"Naw, I think it's a mustache. So, I've figured out that the alcohol eats away the accent part of your voice box and makes you have a normal voice." Harry tapped his chin, realizing the moment it left his mouth that it didn't sound quite right. But it also let him know that he wasn't drunk yet, just bubbly. If he could still question everything that left his mouth he wasn't too far gone. He happened to have a very loose tongue when tipsy.
Their glasses clinked together as Seamus leaned forward to stare into Harry's eyes. "Me do think the lady's drunk."
"I'm not a lady!" Harry shrieked, appalled. Not even Fred or George had called him that!
"Me do think the lady protests too much. Drink up me harties yo ho!" His fingers curled tighter around the glass and he threw the contents into the back of his throat.
That sentence was so different from the previous one that Harry found his anger ebbing away and he burst out in side-splitting laughter. Seamus was such a funny drunk.
"Ay, ay, ay," Seamus repeated, poking Harry's arm a little too roughly. Harry rubbed the tender spot and curled his legs under his arse, watching the scarlet material curve around every movement. He nodded at Seamus to continue. "Malfoy's watching you."
Harry looked up. Following Seamus' pointing glass he locked eyes with the white-blond haired man. Malfoy was so uncomfortable with Harry wearing a skirt and he wasn't even talking to him. With a grin Harry stood and sauntered to Malfoy.
"Hey," he said, jabbing a finger into Malfoy's chest. "If I bother you so much just say so instead of staring." He moved forward, trying to push his finger harder. "Not that I care if it bothers you."
"You're drunk," Malfoy pointed out, his eyes downcast. Harry looked to where Malfoy was looking and saw his skirt was flipped up, his whole right leg showing. He pushed the fabric down and huffed, raking his eyes over Malfoy's trousers to find some sort of imperfection he could stare at in return. He eyes caught sight of...
The haze over his head seemed to subside as the information that Malfoy was aroused registered. He felt his own cock twitch at that. Harry had forgotten how easily aroused he became whenever he was tipsy. And it never failed to help him think more, except for the fact that the blood working his brain was descending further south.
"Oh," Harry muttered. He felt more than saw Malfoy's eyes slide off Harry's skirt to his own trousers.
"Yeah."
After a long silence in which they both stared at the bulge in Malfoy's trousers, Harry said, "You're a pervert."
"Says the bloke wearing a skirt."
Suddenly Harry felt his fingers curl over the bulge. He most definitely had to be tipsy still because he would never have actually done that.
"Potter," Malfoy purred, moving closer and closing his hands over Harry's arse, the thin scarlet fabric separating him from touching skin. Just when Malfoy's hands traveled lower and reached his thigh, Harry jumped. Partly because Malfoy's hands were cold but mostly because a bloke near them had choked on his martini, wide eyes staring at them.
"Shall we move this to somewhere more private?" Malfoy asked, his fingers not halting in their determination to go under the skirt. Just when cold finger-pads brushed the bottom curve of his arse, Harry squeaked and grabbed Malfoy's sleeve, pulling him to the nearest door.
A voice called out to him but he didn't really care what Hermione was trying to say, because Malfoy's other hand was playing with the band of his skirt and he was way more interested in getting into an empty room.
After growing desperate from going room to room they found an empty office and Malfoy promptly shut the door behind it, whispering a silencing and locking spell before tossing his wand on a leather chair. Harry stood there, feeling naked in his skirt. Were they going to.... Harry hadn't done anything with a bloke in half a year. Would he remember what to do? The fact that it was Malfoy didn't seem to bother him so he didn't focus on it.
Leaving Harry no time to decide if he should continue or not, Malfoy shoved him on the desk, one hand teasing its way up his skirt. Harry squirmed, trying to move the stapler from digging in his lower back. Malfoy pulled Harry's wand out of the tiny, convenient, inside pocket of his skirt -- it instantly enlarging to normal shape -- and clearing the desk with a sweep of it. With a clatter that sounded very loud to Harry, it fell to the floor.
"Erm," Harry hesitated, scooting on the desk better and angling so that he was laying long ways. That way his whole body but knees down could fit. Malfoy hovered over him, staring. He sat back for a view of Harry's skirt. That had to be the first person who liked Harry in a skirt.
"So god-damn sexy." Harry barely saw Malfoy's lips move but then the skirt was flipped up to lay on his stomach and his thong was around his ankles. When had that happened, was all Harry could think before Malfoy's mouth was on his cock.
Harry gurgled, arching up and bending his head so far back it hurt. But it felt so good. Malfoy's hands snuck under his arse and trailed a line between his arsecheeks. Then it disappeared, and Harry barely had time to register the fact that it was in Malfoy's mouth with Harry's cock when it was prodding at his arsehole.
Malfoy's tongue was running up and down and left and right and Harry couldn't take it any longer. He dug his fingers into Malfoy's thin hair, gaining purchase. Malfoy sucked hard and it was a good thing he had done that. "Fuck, oh god, Malfoy," Harry moaned low in his throat.
Blearily, he felt another finger find its way into Harry's arse but did it really matter? They were moving in and out and eventually they were moving in time to the bobbing of Malfoy's head. Harry dropped his head to the desk, back arching.
Malfoy twisted his fingers just so and took Harry deep in his mouth, sucking hard as he pulled away. Toes curling, Harry came screaming.
When the ringing in his ears became quieter Harry looked down at Malfoy, who was resting his cheek against Harry's thigh. He hadn't even realized Malfoy came too but the proof was there in the front of his trousers.
Eventually Malfoy sat up, rousing Harry from drowsing. Carefully, Malfoy pulled Harry's thong up then smoothed his skirt down, the scarlet deep against the pale of his fingers.
"I like scarlet," he mused.
Harry snorted, lifting his head even though it felt so very heavy. "Scarlet's a Gryffindor color."
"We're out of school now, Potter." Ever so lightly his fingernail traced along the inside of Harry's thigh, making him shiver. "You should wear a skirt more often."
"Mmm." Harry let his head drop again.
"I'll be at the next ministry party," Malfoy whispered, his breath ghosting over Harry's lips.
Feeling like his eyelids were iron, Harry struggled to open them. "That's not until, what, next month?"
Lips closed over his and a tongue lazily slipped in, slowly waking Harry up. Once he started to get into it, flattening a hand down Malfoy's back and moaning softly, Malfoy pulled away.
"It's soon the holidays. They always have a Christmas party." He stood up and smoothed his shirt out. "So I'll see you there?"
"Maybe," Harry sighed, just wanting to fall asleep. It would have been nice if Malfoy would sleep with him. It had been a while since he slept with a warm body, even if Malfoy's hands were bloody cold.
"And you'll wear a skirt?" His voice seemed to be getting farther away.
"Maybe. Come sleep with me, won't you?" And he was much too tired to care that he'd said it out loud.
There was a slight pause where Malfoy hesitated. "Maybe for a bit," he yawned. Harry couldn't help the sleepy smile that spread across his face as Malfoy spooned against his back, breath rousing the little hairs at the nape of his neck, and fingers playing with the hem of his scarlet skirt.