Drarry Oneshots (𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆)

Non-Toxic Masculinity

Top!Harry

Bottom!Draco

Author:  SidneyJane ( on ao3) 

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"Mione, what do you think?" Harry did a clumsy kind of twirl, losing his footing part way through.

Hermione was perched on the edge of her and Rons bed, one leg crossed over the other surveying Harry's choice of outfit with the kind of sincerity that he hadn't got from Ron. As usual, he was wearing all black, but he'd recently learned the art of layering. And androgyny. He thought he'd rather cleverly paired his leather jacket with an almost completely open silk shirt. And a black skirt. He knew that this was a fashion risk, but he really felt that he looked good.

He was starting to get nervous however, Hermione was taking a long time to give any feedback. She came up to him, and pulled the skirt up to his waist, "Always wear it on your waist, Harry... it looks far better..." she tucked his shirt in, pulling at it slightly so the gentle fabric still draped over his body, "just relax," she said, and as he did she smiled, "there you go... don't let the outfit wear you," she sighed and then nodded toward the mirror.

Harry looked at himself. If anyone had ever told him when he was a teenager that toward his late twenties he would finally find a style that made him feel powerful, he would never have believed them, but here he was. Avant-garde and androgynous, and far more experimental than he would ever have thought.

"Ronald, why can't you make an effort?" Hermione sighed as she helped Ron with his tie.

"Yes, Ronald, " Harry said playfully, "Why can't you make the effort? You are my wingman after all..." he batted his eyes and sighed.

Ron gestured toward his tie, "I am making an effort..." he grinned, and put his arms around Hermione's waist, "besides... who do I need to look good for?"

***

Harry had somehow convinced Ron to come to a muggle club with the lure of not having to think about work, and the absolute fact that none of their coworkers would be there. Dance music pulsed throughout the club as they waited for their drinks. Harry had intended to get as drunk as possible, work had been hell during the week, but it was Saturday night. Party night. He didn't have to think about magic, cover stories, or wizarding media pestering him for some kind of interview while he was half cut. The last time that had happened he had got himself into a spot of bother with the journalist and ended up on the front page - not a proud moment.

"You look like someone who is out on the prowl," the sultry bartender looked Harry up and down, seeing the look of surprise on Harry's face, he quickly added, "not that I'm allowed, of course, but there are some great people in tonight," he gestured toward the dancefloor and smiled before he slinked off to serve someone else.

"He's not wrong Harry," Ron took a long swig of his drink, "there'll be somebody in here to satisfy even your predilections."

"You know, Ron," Harry grinned, "I think you're the only person to get more eloquent when they drink,"

Ron rolled his eyes, knowing full well that Harry was teasing him, and gazed over the dancefloor, full of writhing, sweaty bodies, and smiled. People from all walks of life danced together, not caring about personal lives for the moment.

He held his hand out, "Come on then," Harry took it and followed him. Ever since they had had a long conversation one night about their blunders at the Yule Ball, and how much easier it would have been if they'd just gone together, their friendship had a lot fewer boundaries. They often danced together at clubs, until Harry found someone to pair off with, or until Ron wanted to go home. They had become very comfortable just expressing their admiration and platonic affection for each other, and they had no real qualms about any of it. It had been awkward at first, especially for Harry whose upbringing hadn't exactly been full of expressed feelings and relaxed sentiments, but now they were closer friends than ever before.