Chapter 7
In Which We Study the Peculiar Physics of Rumours

Harry had left Draco's with kohl still smeared around his eyes, and his old robes thrown over the new ones to hide them. He and Draco had both agreed on the necessity of burning Dudley's old jumper, and had conjured up a small fireplace in which to do it. Then Harry had felt honour-bound to help Draco put the clothes away, and when they'd finally realized how late it was getting, there was no time for Harry to change into something less showy. He might be able to plead ignorance of the hour if he left now, but not if he stayed long enough to undo all those damned buttons.

He arrived in the Gryffindor common room with his other clothes bundled underneath one arm, insisting that he keep the remainder despite Draco's rather poetic protests. Even with his old robes buttoned up, it was obvious he was wearing something odd under them, and he had hoped to sneak up to his room without being seen. That went out the window as soon as the portrait swung open to reveal a crowd of insomniac Gryffindors swigging contraband butterbeer and chattering with manic cheer.

Despite the fact that he spent many an evening himself staying downstairs with his increasingly sleepless housemates, he'd managed to fool himself into believing that they'd all be in bed by now. He tried to sneak around the large group and escape upstairs, but Ginny chose that exact moment to look up from where she was reading by the fire. "Harry?"

Every eye in the room turned to him, and he found himself blushing for the millionth time that day. He froze in place and tried for one of Draco's eloquent shrugs, hampered slightly by the fact that he was holding a bundle of clothing with just enough sticking out to prove he'd gotten completely naked, wherever he'd been. Ginny stood up and stalked over to him, while one of the fifth-year girls grabbed the bundle of clothes away.

"What on earth are you wearing?" she exclaimed , getting closer. "And what did you do to your hair?" She peered up at him, her voice getting louder and higher-pitched with each question. "Is that eyeliner?"

"Er, yes?" he said, batting her hands away when she tried to undo his robe. "Ginny!"

"What? I want to see the whole thing." She sounded like she thought it was a perfectly reasonable demand, and he sighed. He knew that tone, and whether from her or Mrs. Weasley, it meant that Harry was in for a certain amount of fussing over.

He gave in and undid the fastenings on his robes, barely letting it fall before someone whisked it away. The crowd that had formed around him all backed up a step, and someone even whistled. He could only thank providence that he'd finally gotten his anatomy under control, at least the lower portions. He could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment and wondered if the blush reached his bared shoulders.

"Give us a twirl, Harry!" called out a voice, and he realized the game had been abandoned in favour of himself as the new entertainment. He considered refusing, but deep down he knew they needed the distraction, so he did a spin on one heel worthy of Draco, then strutted towards the stairs before whirling back. The full coat swirled around his ankles like a hug before settling back down to frame the white cloth over his thighs and groin.

There was more whistling and catcalls, and the sound of someone clomping down the boys' stairs behind him to see what all the commotion was. He turned to let them pass and found himself staring into Ron's stunned face. "Jesus, Harry, did you lose a bet?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the look on Ron's face. "Something like that," he said mysteriously. He couldn't resist giving a little swing of his hips to set the coat swaying, adding, "Like it?" with a wink.

"I always knew you were hiding something under those clothes, Potter, but damn!" That last came from Lavender Brown, who was coming down the girls' stairs with Parvati Patil, both in their dressing gowns.

Harry blushed again, then tried to shove his hands into his pockets only to find he didn't have any, just the little loop on the pants where he'd put his wand. How on earth did Draco function in these clothes? He shivered a bit as a cold draft found his bare shoulders, and not at all at the image of Draco in this very same outfit. "I'm just impressed that someone finally taught him what styling products are for," said Parvati, leaning in distressingly close to examine his new haircut.

"Perhaps he's had other things to worry about," said Ginny crossly, pulling Harry over to sit by the fire. The rest of the Gryffindors ranged themselves around him.

"Now, explain this to me again," said Ron, crowding onto the couch next to Harry. "Who did this to you, and why did you let them?"

Harry blushed again. Harry didn't really want to lie to Ron, but he also wasn't sure he was ready for all of Gryffindor to know he'd let Draco get him naked, even for the purposes of immediately re-clothing him. "Er, well... it was pointed out to me that my look could use a bit of updating."

"Like that's news," said one of the fourth years snidely, but Harry ignored it. The fact that his clothing was a disgrace to Gryffindors everywhere had been a bone of contention between him and some of the more publicity-minded girls for years now.

"And well, I was being an insensitive git, and they made me do this," he said, sweeping a hand from head to toe, "as an apology."

"You let them tart you up because you were an ass? If that's all it takes, I should've demanded it years ago!" declared Parvati, and Harry blushed. She'd never really forgiven him and Ron for their behavior at the Yule Ball in their fourth year.

"Well, you never thought of it, did you?" Harry tossed back over his shoulder.

"Eyeliner's a bit much, though," said Ron, giving him another critical once-over. "Still, it is an improvement."

"Yeah, and we're going to make you wear it next time we go to Hogsmeade!" declared Parvati. The last time they'd gone, he'd been wearing one of Dudley's awful sweaters, one of the huge orange ones with bobbles on, and he'd been photographed for Witch Weekly's Worst Dressed Wizards issue. He'd been chosen number one for the second year in a row. The first time he'd been wearing one of Mrs. Weasley's Christmas jumpers, much to her chagrin.

"No eyeliner," said Harry, suddenly fearing what else they might do, given the opportunity to make him sit still with his eyes shut.

"That's fine, the eyeliner kind of makes you look cheap, anyway," said Lavender, cocking her head to one side. "Well, not cheap, precisely. Expensively for sale, though."

Ron's eyes about popped out of his head, and he might have defended Harry's honour if he hadn't been choking on butterbeer. Harry patted his back and said ruefully, "I'd argue, but I know you're right." He gave a huge, overly-dramatic sigh, and everyone laughed.

They all began questioning him then, mostly about the hair and the coat and how the sleeves stayed up, then moving on to Quidditch and the end of the year, and wondering if they'd get a Leaving Ball or not. Harry gradually relaxed, although the pink never quite left his cheeks, and eventually everyone else did, too. Pretty soon people were wandering upstairs in ones and twos, until it was safe for Harry to escape.

"I learned a really useful charm for the rest of Dudley's clothes, though," he told Ron when they'd finally escaped up to their room. Harry had changed back into his old clothes for the demonstration. "Aptare Juste!" he said, flicking his wand.

The clothes writhed and wriggled, and he resisted the urge to twitch as the boxers and jeans moulded themselves to his body. The t-shirt had been one of his own, and still hung loosely over the now-tight jeans. "Wow, that's awesome, Harry. D'you think it'd work on my stuff?" Ron, as much as Harry, suffered from hand-me-downs.

"Sure, but I think you've gotta be wearing 'em. Let's do it tomorrow." He yawned hugely, and Ron echoed it. It was well past midnight and all but the most determined were already asleep.

"Yeah, all right." They changed into their pyjamas in silence. As they tucked themselves in, Ron said softly, "I noticed you never did say who dressed you up, you know."

Harry smiled into the darkness. "Let's just say I think I've made a new friend, but I didn't feel like trying to explain that to the entire house."

There was silence from the other side of Ron's bed for long enough that Harry thought he'd fallen asleep until his voice drifted over. "It was Malfoy, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "But I was being a git, just for the record."

"Why?" asked Ron, and Harry could hear the other questions crowded into that one word. What happened to us, and why would you go to him. What's going on with you lately, where were you all day, and most importantly, what was going on with him and Draco.

"I just... had a shift in perspective, I guess," said Harry tiredly. "I finally realized that Draco's grown up, just like we have, and he's turned into someone not totally devoid of value."

Ron snorted, but all he said was, "Just be careful, Harry."

"I will, Ron."

They both fell silent, and Harry let sleep pull him down into the darkness. He didn't fear his dreams anymore, not since he'd finally learned Occlumency properly and no longer dreamed at the Dark Lord's whim. The last thing he heard before he drifted off was Ron's soft snoring.

The eyeliner came off in the shower after a bit of scrubbing, but his hair dried in the same soft chunks. The outfit was stowed carefully in the back of Harry's wardrobe, although he'd already developed a special sort of dread for their final Hogsmeade trip, only a week away at this point. He had little hope that Parvati would forget his promise, and he had a sneaking suspicion that someone would alert the press that he'd finally stopped letting fashion victimize him.

He spelled himself and Ron a single outfit each, and went to breakfast in clothes that, while still worn and ugly, at least fit. He got catcalls from the few Gryffindors lounging in the common room, and Dean threatened to hide all his jumpers until he bought some that weren't obviously designed by the colour-blind. They crawled out the portrait hole to find a small knot of giggling second-year girls, their eyes wide and cheeks pink in a way that suggested that Harry was the topic of their interrupted conversation.

They walked through the Great Hall with eyes following them like beacons, amidst whispers of "shoulders," "eyeliner," and "haircut." Harry studiously ignored them, sitting down and grabbing toast. "How do they do that, anyway?" he asked Ron, through a mouthful of marmalade.

"Do what?" Ron was, as usual, fairly oblivious.

"Less than half of Gryffindor saw me last night, and most of them aren't even awake yet, but every single person here knows about my new look." He didn't bother to whisper, since the cat was well and truly out of the bag.

The whispers were growing louder, bolder, and he could hear one girl saying, "I heard he lost a bet," while a boy at Ravenclaw almost shouted, "A *dare*, not a date!"

"Huh," said Ron, spooning sugar into a cup of tea distractedly, "Dunno. But you'd better hope they don't connect it with..."

Draco walked in at that exact moment. Harry's heart skipped a beat, and a hush fell over the room much as it had when Harry and Ron had walked in. "Bugger," said Ron, and Harry could only agree.

Students were glancing from Harry to Draco and back again as Draco stalked over to the Slytherin table, ignoring them completely. His arrogant mask was firmly in place, and he didn't look over at Harry once. Harry realized that he was staring right along with everyone else, and went back to committing marmalade-related sins on his poor, inadequate toast. He glanced up to find Draco sitting between Crabbe and Goyle, talking animatedly and waving his hands around. That entire end of the Slytherin table laughed.

Harry wondered bleakly if it was ego or paranoia that made him sure that Draco was telling them about their little dress-up session. His cheeks flamed when he pictured how absurd he must have looked with the underwear lacings holding him pinned flat in a nest of black curls. He reached up and fingered his new hair, wondering how long it would last before it reverted to its familiar crow's nest. He'd meant to ask last night, but Draco was very distracting even when there wasn't any nudity involved.

He shook his head, laughing silently at himself. Two days, and already he was thinking of Draco like... well, like he had a crush on him, Harry supposed. He shoved the last sticky bits of toast in his mouth, downed his tea and pushed back from the table. "I'm going back to the tower, I can't take this."

Ron nodded absently, busily working his way through a mountain of bacon and eggs. Harry grinned affectionately and walked out, trying to tune out the gossip.

"...was just suppressed passion, can you believe it?"

"I heard they..."

"...seen his hair?"

"...just like a Malfoy to try and change a person..."

"Hope you're not going on another little picnic, Potter," called out someone behind him, just as he was about to make it out the door. "Malfoy might get jealous."

He didn't even bother to try and pinpoint the source, just got himself out of sight as fast as possible. He took a few blind turns and ended up in a seldom-used hallway, breathing heavily and leaning against the stone wall. Someone, evidently, had seen the two of them yesterday. He could cope with that, had known it would happen. People would put two and two together and get five, though, and he wasn't sure he wanted to think about what else they were saying where he couldn't hear.

He sank to the floor, hands buried in his surprisingly soft hair. Draco had done something that completely changed the texture, and kept it from tangling up. He remembered the feel of Draco behind him, the way he'd cradled Harry's body gently as they gazed in the mirror, and felt a pang that had very little to do with lust. He'd felt surprisingly comfortable in Draco's embrace, even that first time standing in the frosty grass.

Spending time with Draco was familiar somehow, and every time Harry learned something new about him, it felt more and more like finding his way home. He knew a part of it was the love potion, an artificial arrow pointing his heart towards Draco, but even knowing what it was didn't help. The fact that Draco had accepted him so quickly, that he'd kept himself from taking advantage of Harry despite the situation, only bound Harry's feelings tighter.

He sighed, hoping he was wrong about before, that Draco wasn't using him to entertain the Slytherins. A sharp pecking at his arm drew him out of his moping, and he looked up from the floor to see a large eagle owl regarding him impatiently. He dug in his pockets for a few owl treats to placate it while he took the small roll of parchment off its leg, and it flapped off as soon as it was free.

He looked at the small scroll pensively. It was tied with a green silk ribbon, and he loosened the bow, heart hammering in anticipation of what might be inside.

Harry was grinning. Like an idiot, probably, and he pushed himself up off the floor with a strange exuberance. It was just two friends meeting, it didn't mean anything, but for some reason Harry felt like dancing down the hallway, and even allowed himself to skip until he'd made it into more well-travelled corridors. He practically crowed the password at the Fat Lady's painting, and then zoomed up the stairs to see if he had anything in his wardrobe that could be made presentable before three.

Eventually he found homework to do, and at some point Ron came in and demanded the promised help in refitting his entire wardrobe, but by two o'clock, Harry was about ready to scream with impatience. After the seventh time he asked Ron about his clothes, Ron kicked him out of the room. He led Harry to the door and shoved him out, saying, "I don't even want to know why you care what he thinks of your clothes all of a sudden, Harry, but I am bloody tired of reassuring you. Go. Away!"

Harry left, taking his Potions text with him in a feeble attempt to get some extra studying done. NEWTs were only a few weeks away, and his most recent mishap showed him in dire need of it. Maybe Draco would agree to tutor him or something. At least then they could meet in the Potions classroom instead of out on the lawn with everyone watching.