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lesyeuxvertsTitle: At Last
Author:![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
lesyeuxverts
Beta: the wonderfulalisanne
Word Count: (100)(12)
Rating: R
Pairing: Draco/Harry (Harry/Ginny, Draco/Astoria)
Prompt: drag
Warnings:
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Draco loved Harry in drag – the stilettos, the garter belt, the skirt that barely covered his thighs, and the makeup that darkened his eyes, making them look larger.
Harry leaned against the bar, one hip thrust out at an angle. His hand was on his hipbone, smoothing down his skirt, and he surveyed the room.
He left lipstick marks on his glass, and drank only half a beer before he became tipsy, flirting with other men and throwing his head back when he laughed. His neck was pale and perfect, the bulge of his Adam's apple stretching his velvet choker.
----
Draco dragged himself to the Ministry at noon, his tongue scalded raw by coffee and his hair carefully rumpled. He smirked after the security guards and smiled at the Minister when they met in the elevator.
He didn't ask after Harry. He didn't mention the club. That was his, his and Harry's, and one day –
Draco greeted his secretary, answered important owls, and made an important Floo call. He suggested adjustments to the treaty with Bulgaria and sent his secretary out to buy Quidditch tickets for him.
One day, he wouldn't have to pretend that Harry didn't belong to him.
----
Draco gave Astoria a dutiful kiss on the cheek and patted Scorpius on the shoulder. "Best seats in the stadium," he said, pretending that they didn't share the Top Box with Potter and his family.
The Weaselette glared, gripping Potter's arm and pulling him away. "Look at what the Kneazles dragged in, Harry."
Scorpius recorded the game with his omnioculars, and Draco watched Harry. He'd seen him before – in corset and heels, in crimson Quidditch robes, dressed as an Auror, and dressed as a student.
He wanted to see Harry naked in his bed, with Draco's name on his lips.
----
Draco wouldn't admit it – wild thestrals wouldn't have dragged the truth from him. He caught the vase before Astoria could throw it.
"That belonged to my grandmother."
"Your grandmother was a –"
"Astoria," he said, and that was enough. He did not tell her where he spent his nights, he did not tell her about the club.
He did not tell her that he watched Harry dance, that he caught glimpses of Harry's arse under his short skirt. "My nights are my own business."
Draco had never touched Harry, had never betrayed his farce of a marriage. That was enough.
----
Draco learned to love Harry when he wasn't in drag – when he came to the club dressed in tight jeans that displayed his arse, when he wore a shirt that showed the outline of his nipples, when he leaned against the bar and chatted casually with other men.
He was not a coquette – he never touched the other men, never took them to the back room, never went home with them.
They still flocked to him, as they did when he wore his heels and his 'come-fuck-me' look, but he never claimed any of them.
He never looked at Draco.
----
Scorpius dragged Albus Severus into every conversation, and Draco allowed Harry's son to come to the Manor for a week during the summer.
Albus had Harry's eyes, green and bright. Draco gave his son strict instructions to behave, and locked himself in his room with silencing spells and heavy wards.
He thought of Harry's eyes while he touched himself. Black eyeliner, a smudge of blue eyeshadow to heighten the green, mascara that lengthened his lashes – Draco imagined Harry, hiding from the Weaselette, leaning close to the mirror to apply his makeup.
Harry's name was on his lips when he came.
----
Draco searched the grounds and dragged the lake when Astoria vanished. There was no hint of foul play, no residue of spells, no trace of her.
Harry still came to the club every night, and Draco still watched him. He waited a week before approaching Harry in his office.
"My wife is missing."
Harry handed Draco an envelope. "I know," he said. "She told me to give you this."
"Did she – say anything else?"
There was a smudge of mascara under Harry's eye, and he looked as though he hadn't slept. "No," he said, still refusing to meet Draco's gaze.
----
Draco hated it when the Daily Prophet dragged up all the dirt – his wife's affairs, his finances, his child. Harry came to his rescue.
He took Draco out to lunch, and they ate fish and chips together. Draco didn't sneer at Harry's manners, and only stared when Harry licked the grease from his fingers.
"I'm fair game, as long as the kids stay out of the press. The Daily Prophet will extend the agreement to your family, if you want it."
Draco wanted to kiss Harry.
They shook hands – Harry's grip was firm, and his touch lingered longer than necessary.
----
The divorce proceedings dragged on for months. In spite of her letter, Astoria fought Draco for custody of Scorpius, for the Manor, for his money – at last Draco won, and he led Scorpius from the courtroom.
Harry was waiting in the corridor, Albus Severus at his side. The four of them Flooed to Diagon Alley together without saying a word.
Draco gave Scorpius money for ice cream and told him to come back in an hour. When the boys were gone, he was left alone with Harry.
Harry took Draco's hand. Their pulses met, separated only by skin. "All right?"
----
Draco had never told Harry that he watched him, that he'd seen him at a gay club every night for the past decade. He never told Harry that he'd watched him dance in drag, wearing a ruffled skirt and a corset, his legs stretched by stilettos and his eyes darkened with makeup.
He had never told Harry that he loved watching him, that he spent sleepless nights over him.
Even after they started taking lunch together, drinking at the Leaky Cauldron in the evenings, and watching their sons eat ice cream in the summer – even then, he never told Harry.
----
Harry dragged the Weaselette to Ministry functions with him, and she clung to his arm like a limpet. Draco called him "Potter," and he turned away, heading for the champagne.
Draco was alone in the crowd, watching Harry walk away.
He'd seen Harry alone in crowds before – in the middle of the dance floor, his body pressed between other men, his head thrown back and his mascara smeared with sweat. Harry was touched, but he did not touch – he was in the crowd, but not part of it, and Draco couldn't join him.
Draco didn't look back as he left.
----
Draco dragged the trunk down from the attic and spread the contents on his mother's bed. Silks and laces, perfume and makeup – none of it was suitable for the club. He brushed his hand over the silk before setting to work.
A few Transfigurations and a dose of Polyjuice later, he was ready. Corset and heels, lipstick and rouge – it was no longer his mother's dress, but it was silky and sheer and black, perfect for the club.
Harry noticed him at once, and made his way over to Draco. Bending close, he whispered, "I like your natural appearance better."
----
Harry dragged the back of his fingernail across Draco's skin, trailing down his neck and stopping over his heart. He leaned close, dusting kisses over Draco's face.
"You came to me at last," he said, holding Draco. "Will you dance with me – now and when the Polyjuice wears off?"
"You don't –"
"I want you."
They danced together. Harry whispered secrets in Draco's ear, under the beat of the music: silk and corsets, divorces and details, things they'd never had a chance to talk about.
They danced all night. Draco kissed Harry goodbye at dawn.
It was a new beginning.
Author:
lesyeuxvertsBeta: the wonderful
alisanneWord Count: (100)(12)
Rating: R
Pairing: Draco/Harry (Harry/Ginny, Draco/Astoria)
Prompt: drag
Warnings:
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Draco loved Harry in drag – the stilettos, the garter belt, the skirt that barely covered his thighs, and the makeup that darkened his eyes, making them look larger.
Harry leaned against the bar, one hip thrust out at an angle. His hand was on his hipbone, smoothing down his skirt, and he surveyed the room.
He left lipstick marks on his glass, and drank only half a beer before he became tipsy, flirting with other men and throwing his head back when he laughed. His neck was pale and perfect, the bulge of his Adam's apple stretching his velvet choker.
----
Draco dragged himself to the Ministry at noon, his tongue scalded raw by coffee and his hair carefully rumpled. He smirked after the security guards and smiled at the Minister when they met in the elevator.
He didn't ask after Harry. He didn't mention the club. That was his, his and Harry's, and one day –
Draco greeted his secretary, answered important owls, and made an important Floo call. He suggested adjustments to the treaty with Bulgaria and sent his secretary out to buy Quidditch tickets for him.
One day, he wouldn't have to pretend that Harry didn't belong to him.
----
Draco gave Astoria a dutiful kiss on the cheek and patted Scorpius on the shoulder. "Best seats in the stadium," he said, pretending that they didn't share the Top Box with Potter and his family.
The Weaselette glared, gripping Potter's arm and pulling him away. "Look at what the Kneazles dragged in, Harry."
Scorpius recorded the game with his omnioculars, and Draco watched Harry. He'd seen him before – in corset and heels, in crimson Quidditch robes, dressed as an Auror, and dressed as a student.
He wanted to see Harry naked in his bed, with Draco's name on his lips.
----
Draco wouldn't admit it – wild thestrals wouldn't have dragged the truth from him. He caught the vase before Astoria could throw it.
"That belonged to my grandmother."
"Your grandmother was a –"
"Astoria," he said, and that was enough. He did not tell her where he spent his nights, he did not tell her about the club.
He did not tell her that he watched Harry dance, that he caught glimpses of Harry's arse under his short skirt. "My nights are my own business."
Draco had never touched Harry, had never betrayed his farce of a marriage. That was enough.
----
Draco learned to love Harry when he wasn't in drag – when he came to the club dressed in tight jeans that displayed his arse, when he wore a shirt that showed the outline of his nipples, when he leaned against the bar and chatted casually with other men.
He was not a coquette – he never touched the other men, never took them to the back room, never went home with them.
They still flocked to him, as they did when he wore his heels and his 'come-fuck-me' look, but he never claimed any of them.
He never looked at Draco.
----
Scorpius dragged Albus Severus into every conversation, and Draco allowed Harry's son to come to the Manor for a week during the summer.
Albus had Harry's eyes, green and bright. Draco gave his son strict instructions to behave, and locked himself in his room with silencing spells and heavy wards.
He thought of Harry's eyes while he touched himself. Black eyeliner, a smudge of blue eyeshadow to heighten the green, mascara that lengthened his lashes – Draco imagined Harry, hiding from the Weaselette, leaning close to the mirror to apply his makeup.
Harry's name was on his lips when he came.
----
Draco searched the grounds and dragged the lake when Astoria vanished. There was no hint of foul play, no residue of spells, no trace of her.
Harry still came to the club every night, and Draco still watched him. He waited a week before approaching Harry in his office.
"My wife is missing."
Harry handed Draco an envelope. "I know," he said. "She told me to give you this."
"Did she – say anything else?"
There was a smudge of mascara under Harry's eye, and he looked as though he hadn't slept. "No," he said, still refusing to meet Draco's gaze.
----
Draco hated it when the Daily Prophet dragged up all the dirt – his wife's affairs, his finances, his child. Harry came to his rescue.
He took Draco out to lunch, and they ate fish and chips together. Draco didn't sneer at Harry's manners, and only stared when Harry licked the grease from his fingers.
"I'm fair game, as long as the kids stay out of the press. The Daily Prophet will extend the agreement to your family, if you want it."
Draco wanted to kiss Harry.
They shook hands – Harry's grip was firm, and his touch lingered longer than necessary.
----
The divorce proceedings dragged on for months. In spite of her letter, Astoria fought Draco for custody of Scorpius, for the Manor, for his money – at last Draco won, and he led Scorpius from the courtroom.
Harry was waiting in the corridor, Albus Severus at his side. The four of them Flooed to Diagon Alley together without saying a word.
Draco gave Scorpius money for ice cream and told him to come back in an hour. When the boys were gone, he was left alone with Harry.
Harry took Draco's hand. Their pulses met, separated only by skin. "All right?"
----
Draco had never told Harry that he watched him, that he'd seen him at a gay club every night for the past decade. He never told Harry that he'd watched him dance in drag, wearing a ruffled skirt and a corset, his legs stretched by stilettos and his eyes darkened with makeup.
He had never told Harry that he loved watching him, that he spent sleepless nights over him.
Even after they started taking lunch together, drinking at the Leaky Cauldron in the evenings, and watching their sons eat ice cream in the summer – even then, he never told Harry.
----
Harry dragged the Weaselette to Ministry functions with him, and she clung to his arm like a limpet. Draco called him "Potter," and he turned away, heading for the champagne.
Draco was alone in the crowd, watching Harry walk away.
He'd seen Harry alone in crowds before – in the middle of the dance floor, his body pressed between other men, his head thrown back and his mascara smeared with sweat. Harry was touched, but he did not touch – he was in the crowd, but not part of it, and Draco couldn't join him.
Draco didn't look back as he left.
----
Draco dragged the trunk down from the attic and spread the contents on his mother's bed. Silks and laces, perfume and makeup – none of it was suitable for the club. He brushed his hand over the silk before setting to work.
A few Transfigurations and a dose of Polyjuice later, he was ready. Corset and heels, lipstick and rouge – it was no longer his mother's dress, but it was silky and sheer and black, perfect for the club.
Harry noticed him at once, and made his way over to Draco. Bending close, he whispered, "I like your natural appearance better."
----
Harry dragged the back of his fingernail across Draco's skin, trailing down his neck and stopping over his heart. He leaned close, dusting kisses over Draco's face.
"You came to me at last," he said, holding Draco. "Will you dance with me – now and when the Polyjuice wears off?"
"You don't –"
"I want you."
They danced together. Harry whispered secrets in Draco's ear, under the beat of the music: silk and corsets, divorces and details, things they'd never had a chance to talk about.
They danced all night. Draco kissed Harry goodbye at dawn.
It was a new beginning.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-03 03:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-03 04:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-03 04:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-03 04:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-03 08:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-03 11:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-03 11:57 am (UTC)(Even if Harry in my head balks at himself in drag - he prefers Draco *G* Silly muses.)
no subject
Date: 2008-02-04 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-04 10:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-05 06:51 am (UTC)