Avast, Ye Scarhead!
Title: Avast Ye Scarhead!
Word Count: 1,500
Rating: R
Warning: Cross-dressing
Summary: Draco's costume brings out Harry's inner caveman.
Author's notes: Written for The Fluffy Halloween Fest on hd_fluff. I chose a fantastic prompt from the lovely digthewriter: Harry and Draco are flatmates, getting ready for a Halloween Party. Harry is going as a caveman and Draco as something sultry. He needs "help" with zipping up his robes/dress/costume. Thank you, slashedsilver for doing an amazing beta job! You're the best, darling.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
“Go as a caveman, he said. It’s the easiest costume there is, he said.”
Harry continued to grumble about Draco’s unhelpful suggestions as he finally managed to adjust his not-so-modest loincloth and tie it up. The sheer amount of... him on display was disconcerting. Harry was fairly certain that real cavemen didn’t necessarily wear leopard prints but the girl at the shop had talked him into it.
After two painful hours of skimming through fashionable prehistoric selections-all of which seemed to get scantier and more suggestive as the time went by-Harry was more than okay with taking her word for it.
At least these ones covered the family jewels.
He took another look at himself in the mirror, winced and hoisted his club. With any luck, his flatmate would be ready by now and they could get on with hosting their annual Halloween Party. The sooner it was over, the sooner Harry could put on a damn shirt again.
He padded over to Draco’s room and knocked. “Are you ready yet? Everyone’s going to be here soon.”
“In a minute,” Draco hollered back.
Harry scowled as he waited, tapping his foot and pacing outside Draco’s room. Finally, even his saint-like patience in the face of Draco’s primping rituals wore out and he banged on the door again. “Draco, come on! I’m starting on the pumpkin margaritas without you!”
“Oh for Merlin’s sake!” Draco snapped back. “Just come in, Potter!”
Harry huffed and swung the door open. The sight in front of him made him stagger to a total halt. Harry’s eyes widened as he fought the urge to collapse in a dead faint. At least the club was handy. He could lean on it for support.
Draco finished fussing with his hair and turned to him. His frilly, red skirt ruffled as he moved and Harry’s eyes tracked the movement. “Look at you,” Draco grinned. His eyes roamed Harry’s form approvingly. “I told you the caveman costume was perfect.”
Harry nodded haphazardly, vaguely registering the compliment. He was far too busy devouring Draco’s form with his eyes to pay real attention. “You… what are you?”
Draco rolled his eyes and struck a pose. “Isn’t it obvious?” he demanded. “I’m a pirate wench.”
“I can see that,” Harry blurted. “You look… just…”
Draco smirked and made a saucy turn for Harry’s benefit.
Harry noticed the sword swinging on his hip for the first time. In addition to the aforementioned scandalous skirt, Draco was sporting a white shirt that fit him like a glove. The sleeves were long and flared at his wrists. There was a gold hoop in his ear and a pirate cap with the Jolly Roger sat jauntily on his blond hair. The whole ensemble was topped off with thigh high boots and-Salazar help him-fishnet stockings.
Harry swallowed as he realized the skirt was even shorter in the back and displayed the barest glimpse of Draco’s underwear. Black, lacy underwear. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. The loincloth was hardly going to hide his unfortunate situation for very long.
“So what do you think?” Draco asked.
“I...um…”
“I’m going to assume you like it,” Draco announced, running a finger over the hilt of his sword. “You don’t want to pitch your club against my sword, do you?”
The teasing put Harry back on familiar ground. “Careful, wench,” he countered. “A little thing like you shouldn’t go around taunting big, strong cavemen.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s more fun when I’m the one with the witty comebacks,” he complained. “Now make yourself useful and zip me up.” Harry hadn’t noticed a zip anywhere. Draco just smirked and lifted one of his high heeled boots. He placed his foot up on a stool and gestured meaningfully at Harry.
Of course.
Harry chuckled fondly at the haughtiness but obliged and knelt to zip up Draco’s boots. “And why can’t you do this exactly?”
“Are you suggesting I bend over in this outfit? I don’t want any rips or tears.”
Harry would have liked nothing better than to rip and tear until Draco was flushed and naked and writhing on his bed, or bending over as the case may be. Perhaps it was the caveman talking but it was starting to sound like a fantastic idea as far as Harry was concerned. Although the boots could stay. Harry liked the boots. The leather felt soft and supple under his palms and he couldn’t help running his hands over them as he handled the zipper.
Draco tensed and inhaled sharply. Harry smirked. So he wasn’t the only one affected. Well, two could play this game.
“So I’m curious,” he murmured as he traced Draco’s calves through the boots. His voice took a low, husky tone and he noted Draco’s pleasant shiver with a surge of approval. “Why didn’t you just go as a pirate? Or do you just like being a wench?” He zipped up the boot as he let the word roll off tongue.
Draco gasped softly. “I like the stockings,” he replied. “They feel good.”
“Do they?” Harry’s hand trailed up to the racy stockings and he ran his fingers over Draco’s pale thighs. Oh, they did feel good. But Draco’s skin felt better. “How does this feel?” he demanded, tracing a hand over Draco’s thigh again. Draco gasped and arched into the fleeting touch. Harry’s lips stretched in a predatory grin and he went further, letting his hand slip under Draco’s skirt now. “How about this?” he asked, tracing the lacy underwear with teasing fingers. The tell tale bulge throbbed under his touch and Harry felt his own cock responding.
“Potter.” Draco’s voice was breathy and he was holding on to the dresser to support himself. He was biting his bottom lip and it was all Harry could do not to take him there and then. He could play a little longer though. Draco would come to him if he did this right.
So Harry zipped up the boot and straightened himself. “All done,” he announced.
Draco blinked uncomprehendingly at him. His pupils were blown and his lips were swollen thanks to the assault he’d just put them through. “Is that it?” he half-whimpered. It was the most erotic thing Harry had ever heard.
He smirked and pulled Draco closer, placing a proprietary hand on his hip and drawing him closer. “What more do you want?”
Draco moaned and bucked against him, his eyes hazy and unfocused. “Do I have to spell it out for you?” he snapped, frustration tinting his voice. “What kind of caveman are you?”
Harry grinned and tightened his hold. “Oh, you’ll see.” That was all the warning he gave Draco before seizing him in firm, strong hands and pulling him into a bruising, searing kiss. Draco moaned into the assault and wrapped his legs around Harry, hitching up his skirt and Harry’s loincloth in the process. Their groins rubbed together and Harry growled his approval, breaking the kiss. “My little wench,” he hissed, moving over to Draco’s bed and throwing him on it rather unceremoniously.
Draco landed with a squeak, but when he looked up at Harry his eyes were bright with mischief and a teasing smirk pulled at his lips. “It seems I’ve been captured,” he drawled, stretching out on the bed and parting his thighs just a bit. “However shall I escape my fate?”
“Just lie back and look pretty,” Harry growled, prowling over him as he prepared to stake his claim, caveman style. “You’re not going anywhere until I’ve had my fill of your booty.”
****
Downstairs, a group of embarrassed guests exchanged awkward glances and polite shrugs. The moans and gasps coming from the bedroom upstairs were unmistakable.
Pansy Parkinson tried her best to hold back stifled giggles, Hermione attempted to engage a mortified Theo Nott in conversation and Narcissa hummed and straightened a flower arrangement, evidently pretending that none of this was happening.
Lucius Malfoy and Ron had found some common ground too. They were both seated on the same sofa, staring out into the distance and sporting twin looks of dumbfounded horror.
“Well they’re not coming down anytime soon,” Blaise Zabini announced. “Shall we just move the party to my place?”
“Yes!” Lucius and Ron jumped up, screeching their approval in desperate unison.
“That would be wise,” Narcissa agreed. “It wouldn’t do to… ahem, disturb them.”
“Speaking of disturbed,” Ron muttered fretfully. “ Could we please hurry?”
The remaining guests mumbled their assent and made for the Floo and various exits. Pansy smirked at Hermione, who grinned back.
“Saw it coming?” she asked.
“From miles away,” Hermione replied. “Shall we head for Zabini’s before we miss the real party?”
“In a minute,” Pansy replied. She smirked and swiped up a bottle or ten. “No sense wasting good pumpkin margaritas, yes?”
Word Count: 1,500
Rating: R
Warning: Cross-dressing
Summary: Draco's costume brings out Harry's inner caveman.
Author's notes: Written for The Fluffy Halloween Fest on hd_fluff. I chose a fantastic prompt from the lovely digthewriter: Harry and Draco are flatmates, getting ready for a Halloween Party. Harry is going as a caveman and Draco as something sultry. He needs "help" with zipping up his robes/dress/costume. Thank you, slashedsilver for doing an amazing beta job! You're the best, darling.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
“Go as a caveman, he said. It’s the easiest costume there is, he said.”
Harry continued to grumble about Draco’s unhelpful suggestions as he finally managed to adjust his not-so-modest loincloth and tie it up. The sheer amount of... him on display was disconcerting. Harry was fairly certain that real cavemen didn’t necessarily wear leopard prints but the girl at the shop had talked him into it.
After two painful hours of skimming through fashionable prehistoric selections-all of which seemed to get scantier and more suggestive as the time went by-Harry was more than okay with taking her word for it.
At least these ones covered the family jewels.
He took another look at himself in the mirror, winced and hoisted his club. With any luck, his flatmate would be ready by now and they could get on with hosting their annual Halloween Party. The sooner it was over, the sooner Harry could put on a damn shirt again.
He padded over to Draco’s room and knocked. “Are you ready yet? Everyone’s going to be here soon.”
“In a minute,” Draco hollered back.
Harry scowled as he waited, tapping his foot and pacing outside Draco’s room. Finally, even his saint-like patience in the face of Draco’s primping rituals wore out and he banged on the door again. “Draco, come on! I’m starting on the pumpkin margaritas without you!”
“Oh for Merlin’s sake!” Draco snapped back. “Just come in, Potter!”
Harry huffed and swung the door open. The sight in front of him made him stagger to a total halt. Harry’s eyes widened as he fought the urge to collapse in a dead faint. At least the club was handy. He could lean on it for support.
Draco finished fussing with his hair and turned to him. His frilly, red skirt ruffled as he moved and Harry’s eyes tracked the movement. “Look at you,” Draco grinned. His eyes roamed Harry’s form approvingly. “I told you the caveman costume was perfect.”
Harry nodded haphazardly, vaguely registering the compliment. He was far too busy devouring Draco’s form with his eyes to pay real attention. “You… what are you?”
Draco rolled his eyes and struck a pose. “Isn’t it obvious?” he demanded. “I’m a pirate wench.”
“I can see that,” Harry blurted. “You look… just…”
Draco smirked and made a saucy turn for Harry’s benefit.
Harry noticed the sword swinging on his hip for the first time. In addition to the aforementioned scandalous skirt, Draco was sporting a white shirt that fit him like a glove. The sleeves were long and flared at his wrists. There was a gold hoop in his ear and a pirate cap with the Jolly Roger sat jauntily on his blond hair. The whole ensemble was topped off with thigh high boots and-Salazar help him-fishnet stockings.
Harry swallowed as he realized the skirt was even shorter in the back and displayed the barest glimpse of Draco’s underwear. Black, lacy underwear. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. The loincloth was hardly going to hide his unfortunate situation for very long.
“So what do you think?” Draco asked.
“I...um…”
“I’m going to assume you like it,” Draco announced, running a finger over the hilt of his sword. “You don’t want to pitch your club against my sword, do you?”
The teasing put Harry back on familiar ground. “Careful, wench,” he countered. “A little thing like you shouldn’t go around taunting big, strong cavemen.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s more fun when I’m the one with the witty comebacks,” he complained. “Now make yourself useful and zip me up.” Harry hadn’t noticed a zip anywhere. Draco just smirked and lifted one of his high heeled boots. He placed his foot up on a stool and gestured meaningfully at Harry.
Of course.
Harry chuckled fondly at the haughtiness but obliged and knelt to zip up Draco’s boots. “And why can’t you do this exactly?”
“Are you suggesting I bend over in this outfit? I don’t want any rips or tears.”
Harry would have liked nothing better than to rip and tear until Draco was flushed and naked and writhing on his bed, or bending over as the case may be. Perhaps it was the caveman talking but it was starting to sound like a fantastic idea as far as Harry was concerned. Although the boots could stay. Harry liked the boots. The leather felt soft and supple under his palms and he couldn’t help running his hands over them as he handled the zipper.
Draco tensed and inhaled sharply. Harry smirked. So he wasn’t the only one affected. Well, two could play this game.
“So I’m curious,” he murmured as he traced Draco’s calves through the boots. His voice took a low, husky tone and he noted Draco’s pleasant shiver with a surge of approval. “Why didn’t you just go as a pirate? Or do you just like being a wench?” He zipped up the boot as he let the word roll off tongue.
Draco gasped softly. “I like the stockings,” he replied. “They feel good.”
“Do they?” Harry’s hand trailed up to the racy stockings and he ran his fingers over Draco’s pale thighs. Oh, they did feel good. But Draco’s skin felt better. “How does this feel?” he demanded, tracing a hand over Draco’s thigh again. Draco gasped and arched into the fleeting touch. Harry’s lips stretched in a predatory grin and he went further, letting his hand slip under Draco’s skirt now. “How about this?” he asked, tracing the lacy underwear with teasing fingers. The tell tale bulge throbbed under his touch and Harry felt his own cock responding.
“Potter.” Draco’s voice was breathy and he was holding on to the dresser to support himself. He was biting his bottom lip and it was all Harry could do not to take him there and then. He could play a little longer though. Draco would come to him if he did this right.
So Harry zipped up the boot and straightened himself. “All done,” he announced.
Draco blinked uncomprehendingly at him. His pupils were blown and his lips were swollen thanks to the assault he’d just put them through. “Is that it?” he half-whimpered. It was the most erotic thing Harry had ever heard.
He smirked and pulled Draco closer, placing a proprietary hand on his hip and drawing him closer. “What more do you want?”
Draco moaned and bucked against him, his eyes hazy and unfocused. “Do I have to spell it out for you?” he snapped, frustration tinting his voice. “What kind of caveman are you?”
Harry grinned and tightened his hold. “Oh, you’ll see.” That was all the warning he gave Draco before seizing him in firm, strong hands and pulling him into a bruising, searing kiss. Draco moaned into the assault and wrapped his legs around Harry, hitching up his skirt and Harry’s loincloth in the process. Their groins rubbed together and Harry growled his approval, breaking the kiss. “My little wench,” he hissed, moving over to Draco’s bed and throwing him on it rather unceremoniously.
Draco landed with a squeak, but when he looked up at Harry his eyes were bright with mischief and a teasing smirk pulled at his lips. “It seems I’ve been captured,” he drawled, stretching out on the bed and parting his thighs just a bit. “However shall I escape my fate?”
“Just lie back and look pretty,” Harry growled, prowling over him as he prepared to stake his claim, caveman style. “You’re not going anywhere until I’ve had my fill of your booty.”
****
Downstairs, a group of embarrassed guests exchanged awkward glances and polite shrugs. The moans and gasps coming from the bedroom upstairs were unmistakable.
Pansy Parkinson tried her best to hold back stifled giggles, Hermione attempted to engage a mortified Theo Nott in conversation and Narcissa hummed and straightened a flower arrangement, evidently pretending that none of this was happening.
Lucius Malfoy and Ron had found some common ground too. They were both seated on the same sofa, staring out into the distance and sporting twin looks of dumbfounded horror.
“Well they’re not coming down anytime soon,” Blaise Zabini announced. “Shall we just move the party to my place?”
“Yes!” Lucius and Ron jumped up, screeching their approval in desperate unison.
“That would be wise,” Narcissa agreed. “It wouldn’t do to… ahem, disturb them.”
“Speaking of disturbed,” Ron muttered fretfully. “ Could we please hurry?”
The remaining guests mumbled their assent and made for the Floo and various exits. Pansy smirked at Hermione, who grinned back.
“Saw it coming?” she asked.
“From miles away,” Hermione replied. “Shall we head for Zabini’s before we miss the real party?”
“In a minute,” Pansy replied. She smirked and swiped up a bottle or ten. “No sense wasting good pumpkin margaritas, yes?”