http://hp.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=544195475
http://hp.adultfanfiction.net/authors.php?no=1296765299
Summary: "It all started the morning Harry woke up and discovered that every last stitch of his clothing was gone."
Care to Explain?
by Closet Skeleton
It all started the morning Harry woke up and discovered that every last stitch of his clothing gone.
“I can’t figure out what in the world happened to all my clothes!” Harry yelped, then glared furiously at his best friend. “It’s not funny, Ron, so stop laughing!”
“Well, all your clothes are gone!” Ron laughed. “You haven’t even got any socks! What kind of prank were they playing on you?”
“I don’t know, Ron,” Harry narrowed his eyes at his best friend. “Your brothers are the most notorious pranksters Hogwarts has ever had... perhaps you inherited something from them? Did you have a hand in this, Ronald Bilius Weasley?!”
Ron snorted. “I did not. Here, you can borrow one of my uniforms, okay?”
“Fine,” Harry muttered, changing out of the shorts he’d worn to bed the night before - the only stitch of clothing he had left in the entire room, except for his Invisibility Cloak, which he was half tempted to put on and just hide - and pulled on the uniform Ron had handed him. It was overly big for him - the cuffs literally hung over his ankles and hands, but he just rolled them up, yanked on a pair of Neville’s shoes the boy lent him, and headed down for breakfast with his book bag.
“Why are you wearing a uniform so big?” Hermione asked, warily, over her kippers.
“Get this,” Ron said, leaning forward eagerly to tell the story, despite Harry’s red flushed face. “When we woke up this morning, every single piece of Harry’s clothes was missing. He didn’t have anything left - not even socks, or pants, or anything!”
At that precise moment, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini were passing by where they sat at the Gryffindor table, and the blonde’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the three of them, before he elbowed Blaise, and muttered something under his breath.
Draco Malfoy had been acquitted from his Death Eater activity after Harry had finally defeated the Dark Lord the summer before on the defense that he had been forced to join to protect his family, and he did release a vast amount of information to the Order by the end of the war. To all the Gryffindor’s surprise, he hadn’t caused trouble for them once since they had come back for their seventh year of school, albeit after a year off when the school had been closed.
But now, at Draco’s hissed order, Blaise sneered at them. “Woke up this morning, and not a thing fit, Potter?”
Harry groaned, and speared a kipper with his fork. “Leave us alone, Zabini.”
“You know, I thought you’d finally gotten to act like a normal wizard the last couple months, but you are apparently back to looking like an utter muggle loving disgrace again,” Zabini pressed.
Ron leapt to his feet, fists clenched in righteous indignation for Harry’s sake, Harry bolted to his feet to try and pull Ron back to his seat, and Hermione alone noticed the dangerous way Draco narrowed his eyes at Blaise, as though he, too, was pissed about the comment Zabini had made.
“Sod off, Zabini!” Ron yelled.
Zabini instead, wand just poking out of the tip of his sleeve, hissed something under his breath.
For a moment, no one was quite sure what exactly Blaise had done. But then Harry realized that he was feeling somewhat... cold, all of a sudden... and someone, somewhere had started to laugh. Then suddenly everyone was alternately laughing or gasping, and Hermione gapsed, “Harry! Your clothes!”
Harry looked down at himself, then let out a squeal of horror when he discovered that he was completely and totally naked.
Deatheaters, he could handle. Voldemort, he’d faced down and killed by himself. Snape, he would - and had - hunt down and exact revenge on solidly.
But standing naked in the middle of the Great Hall where everyone could see just what exactly it was he had - that was something he couldn’t deal with.
Turning bright red, Harry threw his hands in front of his private bits, and was about to run screaming from the room when something very unexpected happened. Draco Malfoy walked up to him, removed his own cloak, then wrapped it firmly around Harry’s shoulders.
“What-?” Harry started, gaping in confusion as Draco carefully fastened the buttons and clasps, not saying a word, and not meeting his eyes. “Malfoy, what are you doing?!”
Draco still didn’t say anything, but as soon as he had finished fastening the buttons, he knelt suddenly in front of Harry, bent, and touched his forehead to Harry’s bare toes. Then he stood, spun, and strode grandly from the Main Hall, cloak billowing in a style scarily reminiscent of the late Potions Master.
Ron and Hermione were gaping at him when Harry turned to look back at them, and Zabini was nowhere in sight.
“What the bloody hell was that, mate?” Ron gasped.
Harry blinked. “I’d really like to know that myself.”
To Harry’s alarm, he was quite unable to remove the cloak Draco had put on him. They had tried every unlocking charm they could imagine on the buttons, but nothing worked. Headmistress McGonagall had even tried her darndest, and nothing would work. At last, he went back to class, going about his usual business... but with no clothes but Draco Malfoy’s Slytherin crested robes. And absolutely nothing else.
As humiliating as that was, however, what was even worse was that, every time he entered a room that Draco was in, be it classroom, or the Main Hall again, Draco would walk up, kneel and touch forehead to toes again, then stand back up and go back to whatever it was he was doing, and he wouldn’t say a word to Harry.
It was driving Harry nuts!
So the next morning, when he came down to breakfast, still wearing Draco’s robes as he had been utterly unable to get them off even to sleep the night before, Harry had to admit that he was kind of expecting just another repeat of yesterday’s activities.
What he did not expect was for Draco to walk up to him at the Gryffindor table, and dash his plate off of it onto the floor.
“Malfoy, the hell?!” Harry spluttered, bolting to his feet.
Draco knelt to the floor, and picked up something Draco hadn’t noticed before - a silver tray loaded with fresh fruits and pastries, the really rich and fancy kind that Hogwarts never got. Still, he didn’t say anything, just knelt, eyes downcast, tray in hand.
“What are you on about, Malfoy?” Ron sneered, but Hermione seemed to have a more objective view to all this.
“I think he wants you to eat that food, Harry,” Hermione said primly, turning another page in her book, which looked even thicker and older than usual.
“Yeah, right,” Ron scoffed, but Harry figured, hey, why not?
Reaching down, Harry carefully plucked a strawberry off the top of the pile, and holding it carefully between index and thumb, took a bite of it. It was easily the best piece of fruit he had ever tasted, and Harry couldn’t help but moan at the taste. Merlin, it was heaven in a mouthful!
“Thanks Malfoy,” Harry said, truthfully, as he finished the juicy berry, and licked the juice off his fingers. “Er... you can go now... I don’t really need...”
For the first time in the last twenty four hours, Draco made some response, looking up. His quicksilver eyes were startlingly hard and serious, and he fixed a firm look on Harry that invited no arguments.
Feeling strangely pinned under those fierce eyes, Harry hastily grabbed for another piece of fruit, and despite the dozens of eyes on him from around the room and from his own table, Harry kept eating until Draco seem...
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