This was ridiculous. Completely mental. Just one door down Bellatrix, Fenrir or the Dark lord himself could be walking past. They could even open the door, as the Dark Lord didn’t allow for anything to be locked, and see him like this.
He’d be fucked if that happened. Quite literally, he could imagine. The way Fenrir, and sometimes even Bella looked at him… He shuddered at the thought. But he still couldn’t bring himself to stop watching himself in the mirror, six inches taller due to his mother’s elegant black heels under his feet.
It was a mesmerizing sight, combining his closeted sexuality with the hidden desire to steal Pansy’s make-up and make himself desirable in a completely different way than a pureblood heir was supposed to be. Not that anyone would ever find him desirable like that. He had no idea what he was doing both with walking in heels and putting on makeup. He’d look like a stumbling clown.
Besides, and more importantly, he was going to be dead soon. The Manor, where he was forced to stay more and more often, wasn’t a safe place for a teenage boy who’d fallen out of the Dark Lord’s graces. Only last week he’d missed a killing curse by an inch while he was being useless on a mission, and the repercussions of that…
He shuddered again, and kicked of his heels, quickly hiding them under the bed. The image in the mirror had been nice, but he could feel himself fall apart because of it. The realisation that no one would ever see that side of him, that he would never get to come out, even if it was only in hidden away nightclubs in knockturn, hit him like a brick wall.
His life would be over soon. His fantasy would die unlived, and he would die unloved. Or at least never loved the way he wanted to be. He supposed that was only fair, given the mark on his arm and the shit in his past. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.
He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to occlude, but nothing helped to stop his hands from shaking. He’d taken the fantasy too far, had allowed himself to feel, and now the fear wouldn’t leave him alone.
So, he did the only thing he could think of, and shot the most powerful stinging hex he could manage at his feet. His damned feet that were never going to strut around in any kind of heel or fantasy. And just as the pain overwhelmed his senses, he managed to retreat back into his occlumency shell, dissociating from a world he no longer wanted to live in.
And just in time too, as he heard some screeches from downstairs. Apparently the snatchers had caught someone important.
Snow was falling down behind the window in gentle flocks, now that the storm from the past days had finally began to lie low. It was a beautiful sight, seeing the Hogwarts grounds covered in a glistering crisp white blanket. He reached out and drew a small branch of mistletoe in the fog on the window with his nail.
As he did so, his sleeve fell back to reveal part of the tattoo sleeve on his left arm. He’d gotten the most of it about three months ago, on the same night Harry had agreed to be his friend. Most of his tattoos were flowers, but there was one drawing on his upper arm that was different from the rest.
Harry had made the sketch for it, and Draco still didn’t know how he’d managed to nail it like that. He’d never told the Gryffindor about his desire to wear heels and dresses sometimes. Maybe that was why Harry had been so insecure about showing the sketch to him. He still had though, after Darco had defeated him in a tickle battle and he’d handed his sketchbook over in defeat.
Right there, on the last page, stood a sketch of Draco. It was just Draco, curled up in a blanket on a comfortable sofa reading a book. And at first sight that was all there was to it, until he’d looked closer and spotted a black pair of pumps sticking out under a garment that wasn’t actually a robe; It was a dress.
Draco had stared at it for a solid five minutes before putting the book aside and hugging Harry so tight it had to hurt. The tattoo had been added to his sleeve three days later, a delay that was only caused by him being too busy loving Harry to go to the tattoo parlour any sooner.
“Hmmm, mistletoe.” Harry shook him out of his ponderings by coming up behind him and cirkled his arms around his chest. “That means we have to kiss, right?”
“Possibly.” Draco smirked, but he didn’t turn around. He enjoyed standing there too much, looking out over the fresh snow with his lover’s arms around him. It was frequently difficult, letting Harry love him. Both because he didn’t feel like he deserved it, and because past trauma stopped him from doing many things. He had a very hard time letting go of control in almost every situation, even one as simple as a kiss, because in the past that control had been forcibly taken from him.
But things were getting better as Harry was nothing but patient with him. Besides, it wasn’t like the other man didn’t have plenty of demons of his own to deal with. They were actually pretty well suited for each other in that aspect. Both gently exploring a life they never thought they’d get to live.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The snow.” Draco sighed and leaned back against Harry. “The peace and quiet. The freedom of it all.”
“Not as beautiful as you.” Harry closed his eyes with a sigh and nuzzled at Draco’s neck. One of his hands sneaked away from Draco’s front to rest on his left upper arm, right across the tattoo.
“You’re a sap.” Draco shook his head, but a warmth still pooled in his gut. Harry loved all of him, even the parts he couldn’t name and the parts he was ashamed of. He briefly thought back to how he’d felt around this time last year, so sure he was about to die, so scared he would never get to live his own truth. Scared he would die without anyone really knowing the real him.
An ungrounded fear, he could say now as he turned around in Harry’s arms and kissed the man. It was a slow, almost chaste kiss, but it felt so much more intimate than that. It felt like acceptance. Like freedom.
“You like my sap.” Harry smiled against his lips.
“I like you.” He threw his arms around Harry’s neck and pulled him close. Both because hugging Harry was always nice, and because he didn’t want to be facing his boyfriend as he said his next words. “I could wear your present tonight, if you want me to.”
Harry’s breath froze at the suggestion, as expected. That morning, among a small but deeply treasured pile of Christmas gifts, Draco had found a gorgeous pair of Louboutins. The first ever pair of heels not nicked from Pansy or his mother, but just for him.
“You’d do that?” Harry asked breathlessly, leaning back so he could watch Darco’s face. To his own surprise, Harry didn’t see him blush, because his cheeks hadn’t heated at all. He wasn’t ashamed about wanting to wear heels now. Maybe because he’d be doing it for Harry too, not just himself. Or maybe just because Harry made him feel so well loved and accepted that he couldn’t do anything but accept himself as well.
“Of course.” Draco smirked and pulled Harry’s hips flush against his own. Normally he wasn’t so forward, but something about this night felt different. Only a year ago he thought he’d never get to do any of this, and now that all of that had changed he would be damned to pass up on the opportunity. “I love driving you mad, and what better way to do that than by wearing high heels?”
“Merlin, Draco.” Harry almost growled and pushed him gently up against the window. It was an odd combination, pure lust and extreme care, but it was the only combination Draco could handle on most days. As soon as he felt the control in himself or Harry slip away, he started to panic even though there was no reason to. Harry was excellent at respecting those boundaries though, even though it sometimes felt like he was holding back. “You’ll be the death of me.”
“No, I’ll be the life of you.” Draco captured Harry’s lips and kissed him. “None of us are dying until we’re old and grey and ready for it, alright?”
“Of course. You won’t get rid of me that easily.” The heat in Harry’s eyes was still there, but a seriousness could be seen in them too. They both had a bit too much experience with the idea of dying, which meant that moments got like this sometimes. And though that lowered the amount of times they had spontaneous heated sex, it still was one of the best bits of their relationship. It made them both equally intense. “We are going to have another million Merry Christmases, and a fuckton of happy new years.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Draco smiled as he lost himself for a moment in a fantasy that he was going to live in. The idea alone felt overwhelmingly amazing. He pressed a kiss on Harry’s forehead, enjoying the moment. “Merry Christmas Harry.”
“Merry Christmas, Draco.”
Draco could see Harry’s breath catch in his throat as he approached the man. He and the other heathens he called his friends were all seated at the same round table. One of many that replaced the house table during the holidays to encourage inter house unity. He smirked and made the sway of his hips just a tiny bit more obvious.
“Merry Christmas, all of you.” He greeted them with a nod and sat down between Dean and Hermione with a mischievous smile on his lips. Because of course he could have taken the empty seat next to his boyfriend, but where would be the fun in that? Harry would get to kiss him and hold his hand through the entire dinner and that would ruin his plan of driving his lover mad.
Judging by Harry’s restless fidgeting, his plan worked. “Hermione? Can we switch places?”
“Granger, if you switch places you’re not allowed to read through my potions notes ever again.” Draco said casually as he pushed his chair back a bit and crossed his legs in such a way that he knew Harry had an excellent view on the heels. “I think it’s important that we try new things tonight.” His eyes briefly flickered over to Harry and he winked. “Talk to other people than usual.”
“So we all strengthen our group by becoming better friends!” Luna caught onto his idea and happily switched places with Seamus. As a result, Draco got the evil eye from both Ginny and Harry, to which he responded with a delighted chuckle.
It soon turned out though, that Draco’s ploy to drive Harry mad served another purpose, because soon enough he was deep in conversation with Dean. The somewhat more quiet Gryffindor apparently owned three pairs of heels himself. And ever since Seamus had introduced him to British drag culture the summer after the battle, he’d seriously considered making a drag persona himself.
“I mean, make up and drag is just a different art medium, and I’ve always felt like magical fashion is severely lacking. You can only make that many unique robes before it becomes repetitive, and showing more extreme femininity like drag does is virtually impossible. I tried wearing my mum’s old gala robes at the Halloween feast, and literally no one noticed they were meant for women. Which is a good thing in some ways, because putting gender roles on clothing the way muggles do is bullshit, but I want to play with gender in more ways than just putting on a sock-stuffed bra, you know?”
“So that’s what was different about you that night! I knew it was something but I couldn’t bloody think of what.” Draco let out a deep sigh and laughed. “You know, I actually owe you quite a big thank you for wearing those robes. I was looking at you almost all night trying to figure out why you looked different, and it got Harry so jealous he finally cornered me and asked me out. Well, after some other stuff.”
Draco briefly looked over to Harry and smirked, causing his lover to choke on his pumpkin juice. Dean laughed. “Yeah, I can imagine. And glad to be of service, my friend. I’ve never seen Harry as happy as he is now. Though in this particular moment he seems rather frustrated.”
“I’m only giving him a small lesson in patience.” Draco gave Harry one last wink before turning back to Dean, bending close to him and whispering his ear, “You have to pretend like I’m saying something sultry. Not that I am. I actually wanted to say that I’m not teasing him for no reason. He’s always so careful around me, which was a good thing because I really needed that, but not tonight.”
Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Why not tonight?”
“Well, it only really clicked just now when you were talking about personas.” Draco explained in a normal voice. “I just always felt different, when walking in heels or stealing Pansy’s lipstick. And I never wanted to be a girl, which is why it made so little sense in my head. But hearing you talk I realise that yes, that is a persona. And I’m not sure who that persona is yet, I just know he, or she, I suppose, can do with a little bit less care and a little bit more heat.”
“That… That makes sense, yeah, I think. Thank you for sharing that.” Dean reached out and impulsively grabbed his hand like a true Gryffindork.
Draco wanted to roll his eyes and pretend like it meant nothing, but somehow he couldn’t. He could only squeeze Dean’s hand back, and sit in silence for a bit. Though he’d felt like that for several years now, he’d never been able to explain it. And now he had. Not even just to himself but to Dean as well.
It was a very odd feeling, as if something had clicked. As if he had finally started making sense to himself. Himself, because whoever his persona was, she was gone in that moment. It was just Draco wearing heels, seeing puzzle pieces fall together and memories and emotions click into place.
“That… That…” He was no longer able to for words. It was hard enough keeping his happy tears back, and he couldn’t do both at the same time. So he stopped trying, and acted on instinct. “Thank you.” He let go of Dean’s hand only to hug him tight a second later. “Thank you for talking. For listening.”
“Anytime Draco.” Dean patted him on the back and it wasn’t awkward at all, even though they’d barely spoken before that night. They had something in common now, after all. Something big and nice and so fucking logical. Draco’s mind was still blown when they let go and held hands again. “It’s a big thing, isn’t it?”
“It is.” Draco leaned back in his chair and smiled as he let out a deep breath. Then he smiled at Dean and squeezed his hand again. “It really is.”
“What were you talking about with Dean?” Harry was trying to ask it casually and he failed like a champ. “You seemed to be having fun.”
“Oh, we were having a lot more than just fun.” Draco replied, shamelessly positioning himself on his bed with a single heel high up in the air. He still felt giddy from his talk that evening, which outed itself in a higher confidence level and an even deeper desire to let Harry turn up the heat. “But it was nothing close to what we are about to do.”
“It isn’t?” Draco saw the insecurity disappear behind Harry’s eyes. He was going to have to talk to the man about that the next day, because he was a loyal Slytherin for crying out loud. He would die before he would cheat (in love, that was. There were no such rules for quidditch). Right now though, Draco had something else entirely on his mind, which he made clear by letting his legs fall open. Heat flared behind Harry’s eyes. “What are we about to do then?”
“We?” Draco raised a single eyebrow and chuckled. “We are not about to do anything. You, on the other hand…”
Harry was already pulling off his shirt as he approached the bed, and his shoes and socks were off too once he climbed on top of the covers and claimed Draco’s mouth with a heated kiss. He was still holding back though. Draco could sense it. And he knew it was for good reason because the line between being turned on and having a panic attack had been so thin for such a long time for Draco, but tonight felt different.
Something had clicked, and now he just wanted to be a sexy high heeled lover who drove his boyfriend wild. The simple act of wearing heels made it so much easier for him to leave his emotional baggage behind and just be in the moment with the man he loved and trusted. He was no longer Draco Malfoy, the abused ex-death eater. He was Draco the high heeled reason behind Harry’s sexual frustration.
“Stop holding back.” Draco shamelessly grabbed Harry’s arse and pulled him closer. “I want you. I want you to show me how I made you feel. I want to feel your lust. Your jealousy.”
“Draco…” Heat flared behind Harry’s eyes, but insecurity again took over. “I don’t want to push you too far. I don’t want to own you.”
“You don’t own me, you want me.” Draco would have rolled his eyes if he’d been able to take them off Harry’s face. “And you have no idea how much that turns me on. I know you think your jealousy is an ugly thing, but it makes me horny as fuck, seeing what I can do to you.”
Harry suddenly sat back and put his glasses on the nightstand. “You are going to be the death of me.”
“No.” Draco sat up, which was the last thing he planned on actively doing before letting Harry take the reins. He captured Harry’s lips while guiding the man’s hands to the buttons of his jeans. “I’ll make sure you love life so much you’ll never die again.”
Harry chuckled. “You’re a sap.”
“Only because you still haven’t started pounding me into the mattress, Potter.” He grabbed Harry by the neck and pulled him down on top of him. “I’ll start insulting you if you don’t render me speechless soon.”
Draco smirked as he saw the shift on Harry’s face. This was the man he fell in love with. Careful and gentle and trusting without ever being condescending or disappointed, but burning like a wildfire once he let go of that control. Control, Draco realised now, which Harry didn’t need in order not to hurt him, which is why he felt so safe doing this with him.
“Careful what you wish for, Draco.” Harry said as he ripped Draco’s jeans open before fanishing the entire thing. But of course he left the heels on. “Because you might just get it.”
Draco smirked. This was going to be his best Christmas yet.
“Hmmmmmm, breakfast.” Draco muttered against Harry’s neck as he noticed the man was awake. “I want it. Go get some for me.”
“I can’t get breakfast if you’re attached to me like a koala, Draco.” Harry chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “Besides, why am I supposed to get you breakfast? I recall you doing very little last night.”
“I wore heels for the entire evening Potter.” Draco wrestled one of his feet out from underneath the blankets, grabbed a hold of it and nearly shoved it into Harry’s face. It wasn’t a very elegant position, but it served its purpose of showing Harry his proof. There was a big red blister on the back of his heel where his shoes had cut into his skin the day before. “That’s what happens when you do that.”
“Draco…” Harry, being the ridiculous gryffindor that he was, immediately leaned forward and kissed the sore spot on his foot. “Why on earth did you ever wear those shoes if they cause you pain like this?”
“Well what do you think?” Draco rolled his eyes and quickly shoved his foot back under the warm blankets. A high heel fetish he was okay with, but a foot fetish, that was just weird.
“Did-, did you do it for me?” Harry looked shocked by the mere idea of ever having hurt Draco. Which was nice because Draco could fully relax around him because of that, but also, he wasn’t going to break from a couple of blisters.
“Of course not. Get off your high horse Chosen One, not everything is about you.” Draco playfully shoved him, and Harry’s face lit up with relief before he playfully shoved him back. “I did it for me, because I like wearing high heels. But you got to enjoy them last night so the least you can do is get me breakfast.”
“You’re impossible.” Harry snorted as he let himself fall back into the pillows. “Creacher!” With a small pop a rumply house elf appeared at the end of the bed. “Could you get us some breakfast from the kitchens please? Preferably something you can eat in small bites.”
The elf nodded and disappeared. Draco arched an eyebrow. “Plan on feeding me, are you?”
“Maybe.” Harry’s eyes shone with joy just before he closed them and kissed Draco’s lips. “Happy boxing day, Draco.”
“You’re weird.” Draco muttered against Harry’s lips in between kisses. It was a good, nice place to be; Half naked in bed with Harry his personal furnace. “I’m happy.”
“Happy that I’m weird?”
“No, just in general.” Draco broke the kiss and smiled as he sunk back into the pillows. “I talked to Dean last night.”
“I noticed.” Harry snorted. “I was about ready to kill him when you two wouldn’t stop holding hands.”
“Yeah, well that wasn’t exactly planned to be honest.” Draco chuckled at the memory, but then grew serious. What he was about to say wasn’t an everyday confession, and though he knew Harry wouldn’t react badly to it, he was still nervous. “Neither was our conversation, but I am so glad that we had that. It felt almost like a second coming out.”
“It did?” Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “What did you guys talk about?”
“Well, Seamus took Dean to a drag night last summer. He told me all about that, and…” He took a deep breath, scolding himself for finding this so difficult. “I think I want to try that. No, I know I want to try that. It just… It makes sense, to me. It fits with me somehow.”
“It does.” Harry nodded, and as he did he began to smile. “You know it really does. The more I think of it the more-, yeah, the more it makes sense. That’s brilliant, Draco. It really is, that makes so much sense. I can’t bel-”
Draco grinned, and kissed Harry square on the mouth mid-ramble. “I love you.”
Harry seemed surprised my that confession for a moment, until… “Love you too, Draco. Love you too.”
Just as they were about to kiss again, Creature reappeared with what seemed like a mountain worth of chocolate, gingerbread, treacle tart, pancakes and muffins. It was perfect. Just like the entire Christmas had been perfect. Not that he was about to tell Harry that. He wasn’t that sappy. So instead he shoved Harry and beat him to the biggest slice of treacle tart.
Harry glared at him.
Now it really was the best Christmas ever.
And there were still many more to come.