The Usefulness of Muggles

All was well, or at least Draco had thought so, until he’d walked through the door of his boyfriend’s flat. It wasn’t bad enough that Harry lived in a Muggle neighbourhood or that his flatmate was a Muggle-born. Yes, Muggle-born, not a Mudblood. He’d had that hammered into his head enough over the last two years. It wasn’t even bad enough that the love of his life had a Muggle job. But now Draco was expected to go to a Muggle party. And not just any party, but a Muggle Halloween party! As much as he loved Harry and would do almost anything for the man, he drew the line at this.

“No,” he said stubbornly, arms crossed and chin jutting out furiously. “I won’t go.”

“Draco, come on! It’ll be fun,” Harry pleaded for the hundredth time.

“Fun? Fun! Watching Muggles parade around in ridiculous witch and wizard costumes? Dressed as Inferi and Dementors? That’s your idea of fun, Harry?”

“They don’t dress as Inferi and Dementors, we’ve been through this. They dress like mummies and zombies, and wraiths. You know they have no idea what a Dementor even is.” Harry scowled, his temper finally getting the best of him.

“I told you he wouldn’t go,” Hermione said in that irritating, bossy tone that she always had.

Draco looked up at her and snarled. “What the hell are you supposed to be, a human inferno with fake cleavage?”

She smiled down at him with condescending eyes. “I’m Elektra.”

As if that was telling him anything at all.

“Elektra is a famous comic book character, a sexy, powerful, ninja assassin.” She smiled smugly and, ignoring the look of contempt Draco was giving her, turned gracefully on her eight-inch heels to face Harry. “Okay then, I’m going. I’ll give everyone your regrets for not being able to make the party.”

The next thirty minutes passed in strained silence until Draco could no longer stand it. He stood up in a huff and grabbed his cloak from a nearby chair. “Go to your damn party, Harry. I’m going home.”

“Draco, wait.” Harry sprang from his chair quicker than a Snitch and grabbed Draco’s arm. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

As furious as Draco was, he couldn’t stay angry when Harry used that pleading tone. “It’s all right, Harry,” he said softly. “Go to the party, have fun with your friends. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Harry let go of Draco’s arm and looked down, shuffling his feet nervously. Draco recognized the action immediately and his heart sank. Harry had something to tell him and if it made him this nervous, it couldn’t be good.

“Just say it, Harry,” Draco said calmly, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. He’d been waiting for this day for two years. The day when Harry realised Draco no longer fit into his life, the day when his love was no longer enough. “I can handle it, you know. I’m a big boy.”

Harry looked up in surprise. “Handle what?”

Draco huffed and threw his cloak back over the chair. He rubbed his forehead in exasperation before sitting on the edge of the sofa, staring studiously at his hands. “I can handle it if you don’t want to see me anymore. I won’t like it, but I won’t die.”

The silence that followed only seemed to confirm the obvious, but damn it, he’d thought Harry would at least say he was sorry, try to explain, give him some lame excuse about how it wasn’t that he didn’t care. He felt the sofa shift as Harry sat down beside him, but he wasn’t prepared for the gentle hand that touched his chin and lifted his face up, or the softness in Harry’s eyes when they met his.

“Draco, you idiot. Why on Earth would you think that?” His voice was warm and tender and it made Draco’s heart leap into his throat.

Harry leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Draco’s unresponsive lips. “It was just an argument. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you anymore.” Harry brushed an annoying hair from Draco’s eyes and pulled the man into his arms. “God, Draco, what have I done to make you jump to that conclusion?”

Draco blinked several times and allowed himself to return the hug, burying his face in Harry’s neck. “I don’t fit very well into your life anymore, Harry. We both know that.”

Harry chuckled and pulled away so he could see Draco’s face. “You’ve never fit into my life, Draco and I’ve never fit into yours, but we fit each other more perfectly than anything I’ve ever known.”

Draco was shaking his head ominously. “But your friends dislike me and I hate your job and... the party. Things like this will always come up and one day you’ll get tired of making excuses.”

Harry laughed again and immediately apologized when he saw the look of hurt in Draco’s eyes. “The only reason I wanted to go to the party was that I wanted to see you dressed up like a pirate or Peter Pan or Superman, with tights or boots or a sexy red cape.”

Draco’s mouth fell open in surprise. “What?”

Harry was no longer looking at him and from the blush that was spreading from his cheeks down his neck, Draco could tell why. He felt a tsunami of relief wash over him and he laughed. “Bloody Gryffindor,” he said as he pulled Harry to him and kissed him soundly. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

“I was embarrassed,” Harry mumbled against Draco’s chest, where he was trying his best to hide. “I was afraid you’d laugh at me or worse - that you’d be mad or insulted.”

Draco wrapped his arms tighter around Harry and laughed again, but then abruptly stopped. “I’m not laughing at you, Harry. I’m just... surprised that’s all. Not mad. Not insulted. Just surprised that my innocent little Harry has a fetish I didn’t know about.”

Harry looked up at him and glared. “Not so innocent.”

Draco grinned and shook his head. “No, apparently not.” This time when Harry kissed him his lips responded immediately, as did the rest of his body. Harry pulled away long enough to drag him into the bedroom mumbling something that sounded like, “I’ll show you who’s not innocent.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thump... thump...

Draco started at the noise and realised it must be Granger stumbling in drunk from the party. He curled back into Harry’s arms and tried to go back to sleep, but decided a glass of water and a trip to the loo might be more important than sleep at the moment.

He headed toward the kitchen, still groggy from sleep, and tripped over something in the middle of the living room floor. Swearing furiously he plucked up the offending object. Staring at Granger’s shiny vinyl thigh-high boots sent a wicked thought through his mind and he forgot about the kitchen entirely. Picking up the boots, he headed back to the bedroom where he quietly slipped his wand from the bedside table, and scooped up the trousers and shirt that he’d so carelessly discarded earlier.

He tiptoed to the ensuite loo and sent a silent thanks to Professor McGonagall for pushing him so hard in Transfigurations. Pointing his wand at his shirt, he closed his eyes and pictured a luxuriously soft, black leather vest. When he opened his eyes all he could think was, “Perfect.”

Next he picked up his trousers and studied them, immediately thinking of a tight, leather mini-skirt, but just as quickly, dismissing the notion. That might be a little more than Harry could handle. Instead he changed them into a pair of tight leather shorts and grinned when he put them on. Apparently his imagination was more vivid than he’d thought. Not only were they indecently short, but he now had a flaming red dragon draped across his arse.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he looked at himself in the mirror. “Why the hell haven’t we done this before?”

He picked up his wand again and resized the boots to fit. Walking in eight inch heels would be a bit tricky, but nothing a good Stabilizing Charm couldn’t solve. Besides, I doubt I’ll be walking much.

He donned the boots and stood up. Staring at himself in the full length mirror, he couldn’t help but smirk. “Oh, Harry, be careful what you wish for,” he said smugly.

As if on cue, he heard Harry’s sleepy voice coming from the bedroom. “Draco, you okay?” There was a short pause before the lamp clicked on. “Draco?”

He took one more look in the mirror, sucked in a deep breath, and opened the door. If he hadn’t been so bloody nervous he would have laughed at the look on Harry’s face. First confusion, then surprise, then...

Harry sat up slowly, his eyes roaming hungrily from Draco’s face down the line of pale skin that was visible where the vest opened. He paused when he got to the obvious bulge in the tight leather shorts, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, and Draco was delighted to see him squirm. He continued devouring the sight before him with a look of utter wonder, as if he’d been blind and only now realized he could see. His eyes scanned over the blood red thigh-high boots, stopped at the heels and stared.

“Bloody hell, Draco.” Harry seemed to be having trouble drawing his eyes away from the boots, but when they finally darted back up to Draco’s, there was a predatory look in them that Draco had seen only once. The very first night they’d ever kissed.

He turned around seductively, bracing his hands high on either side of the door frame and waggled his dragon clad arse in invitation. “Is this what you had in mind, Harry?”

The tiny whimper from his lover’s lips was answer enough. He looked over his shoulder with his best "come fuck me" look and blew Harry a kiss.

Before he could blink, there was a soft pop and Harry was behind him, hands roaming down his thighs, lips devouring his neck. “Fuck, Draco, you’re gorgeous,” Harry managed to mumble between the kisses and bites that were already driving Draco mad. Draco pushed back, feeling Harry’s stiff cock, even through the tight leather shorts.

Harry moaned into his ear and his fingers began deftly undoing the shiny silver buttons that were the only thing standing between Draco and paradise. God, he’d never wanted Harry’s hand on his cock more than he did right now and once it was there he couldn’t help but buck into it. Harry’s other hand was hastily shoving the shorts down, his tongue was still doing evil things to Draco’s neck and... “Hurryharrypleasehurry,” Draco whimpered as he jutted his arse out so Harry could have as much access as possible. But when Harry dropped to his knees and Draco felt the warm tongue on his arse, the combination was too much. He came, shooting sticky white streaks over Harry’s hand, leaving it to drip slowly down the doorjamb.

Draco sagged against the wall until Harry stood and guided him to the bed. How he managed it with the shorts still around his knees he wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter because Harry was pushing into him with wild abandon and he was once again as hard as if he hadn’t had an orgasm in days. Harry was running his hands along the red boots and grunting and swearing and pumping his love into Draco’s body and it was all too good for even his thoughts to process.

Perhaps, Draco thought later, as he lay content and satiated in Harry’s arms while the morning sun crept in through the windows, if Muggles could invent red, thigh-high boots, they might be useful after all.

Just the Two of Us
Draco agrees to spend some time with Harry's Muggle friends, but as usual, he has an ulterior motive. Sequel to The Usefulness of Muggles.