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“This is fucking ridiculous.”
Draco’s gaze swept left to right before he ran a tentative finger along one leg seam of his underwear. His very tight underwear. His very tight underwear that was slowly creeping its way up to nestle in his arse crack, burying itself deeper with every twitch of his legs.
He plucked at the unpleasantly smooth fabric and settled it back over his cheek, feeling it immediately recede towards his buttock cleavage once again. With a shudder, he thanked Merlin for the sweet mercy of being alone at that moment.
“You can still back out, you know?” Theo teased, absently rubbing one swollen earlobe.
Oh, yes. Theo was there too.
“I can’t,” Draco hissed. “I made a promise.” His fingers found the other leg seam and tugged, but that only served to shift his underwear off centre, and—with them—the entirety of his genitalia. Suppressing a yelp, Draco wriggled his hips to shake out the ache.
“I’m sure she’d understand,” Theo preened, rolling a tiny diamond stud between forefinger and thumb. He inhaled sharply and bit his lip as the movement of the metal twisted the loose flesh of his lobe. “It’d probably be best—argh! Motherfucker!—best if you left it to the professionals anyway.”
“Professionals?” Draco scoffed, spinning on his heel to address his best friend, and firmly cementing his wedgie in the process. “You—shit!—you really think mutilating yourself with that heirloom of your grandmother’s qualifies you for this?”
“It’s an earring, Draco,” Theo tutted, rolling his eyes. “And it’s cool.”
“It’s a brooch, dickhead,” Draco countered. “And a rusty one at that. No wonder your lobe’s turned a nasty shade of Gryffindor pride.”
“All the models wear one.”
“Wear one what? Ear infection by Cartier?”
Theo fixed Draco with what might have been a withering stare, had his lobe not been leaking pus. As it was, Draco merely grimaced.
“You’re just jealous that I look like a model,”—Theo splayed a hand across his chest before waving it in Draco’s general direction—“and you look like a twat.”
It was true. Draco did look like a twat.
Even so…
“I do not look like a twat,” he insisted, smoothing a hand across his chest and wishing that it was more covered; the sleeveless, cropped, white cotton shirt that he was wearing left little to the imagination. And pairing it with an unfastened bow tie—hanging limply round his neck—a top hat, and a black, polyester G-string?
Well. That was just asking for trouble.
“You know you look like a twat,” Theo argued, the sharp arch of one brow creasing his forehead as he surveyed Draco up and down.
“I don’t—”
Theo’s slow blink and cocked head saw Draco’s protest die in his mouth. Draco sighed and let his shoulders slump.
“Okay, fine! But I’m a twat on a mission.”
“Yes!” Theo agreed emphatically. “A mission to get in Hermione Granger’s knickers!”
“Yes! To g—Wait, what? No, Theo!”
Theo huffed a breath, from the back of his throat, out through his nostrils. “Don’t play coy. We all know you’re hiding a massive boner for the lion queen.” He dipped his chin and sniggered. “Though I’m not sure you’ll be hiding it for much longer in that thong.”
“Oh, fuck off, Theo!” Draco spat, twitching a hand through his sweaty, platinum fringe. “Shitting Salazar, what am I doing?”
“It’s alright, Draco,” Theo soothed. “Some people just aren’t cut out for supermodel life. Here, take off that outfit and I’ll walk the show in your place.” He held out a hand, and Draco slapped it away.
“I’ve already said ‘no’,” Draco growled. “What are you pushing this for? Are you trying to get in Hermione’s knickers too?”
“I’m more interested in Potter’s,” Theo smirked, running his tongue over the fronts of his teeth in a way that had Draco recoiling.
“I don’t think Potter wears knickers, mate,” Draco quipped.
“You’d be surprised,” Theo bounced his thick brows and winked. “Those are a lovely shade of Gryffindor pride too.”
“You have not seen Potter’s underwear,” Draco snorted, adjusting his top hat. “I’ll add that to my list of ‘lies Theo tells that never happened’.”
Theo levelled a glare at Draco and wrinkled his nose. “Piss off! It could happen,” he asserted, but the whine that bore his words undermined the sentiment. “Potter would get it! Right in the bumholey.”
“Lovely,” Draco sniffed. “Well, I think we’ve established that’s never—”
“Hi, boys!”
Draco choked on the end of his sentence, instead wheezing and spluttering his way through a squeak that was arguably more embarrassing than the insult he’d been about to deliver. When he managed to inhale all the saliva from his mouth, Theo thumped him on the back.
“Easy, mate,” Theo jeered, smacking Draco right between the shoulder blades until he groaned. “Hermione was only saying ‘hello’. Nothing to get so worked up about.”
“Not…” Draco gasped, a cough punctuating every word, “worked… up. Just… swallowed… some… something.” He gestured to his throat and then bent double, hands braced on his thighs as he attempted a few deep breaths.
“Sorry, Draco,” Hermione murmured, placing a warm palm on his back as Theo stopped whacking him. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“S’fine,” Draco rasped, waving her away with a flutter of his fingers. When she didn’t remove her hand, he added, “M’alright,” and shrugged his shoulders to shake her off.
Truthfully, Draco would have preferred she keep touching him, but the heat of her skin through his flimsy shirt was already shooting fire down his spine, and he didn’t think he could handle prolonged contact. As Theo said, the insubstantial thong would not conceal his erection.
Draco focused his attention on thinking unsexy thoughts—contemplating Theo definitely helped—and, as Hermione withdrew, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and straightened up.
The plan for unsexy thoughts was immediately derailed.
Hermione was wearing a baby pink corset with black lace detail, that cinched her waist and hugged every delicious curve. It caressed and boosted her breasts, pressing them together into glorious cleavage. The soft gold of her skin was accentuated with a glitter powder that shimmered across the smattering of freckles beneath her collar bone. Low on her hips, a black mini skirt clung to her, barely grazing the tops of her thighs. What did cover her thighs, however, were a pair of black, leather boots…
Draco wiped his mouth again, subtly so as to hide the drool.
“Are you alright, Draco?” Hermione asked, head tilted as she considered him with her big, molten chocolate eyes. “You’re not wanting to back out of the show, are you? It’s okay if you are. We have reserves.”
Draco wanted to yell ‘no’ to reassure her, but all he vocalised was, “Hrrkk.”
“I’d be happy to step in for you,” Theo purred. “We both know I’d look much better in that outfit.”
“I’m not sure,” Hermione mused, tapping a finger against her chin. “I think Draco looks quite hot.”
Draco died on the spot. He was to be buried there, with underwear flossing his arse crack and a slowly hardening cock that threatened to tear the fabric.
“This prat? ‘Hot’?” Theo jerked a thumb at Draco. “You haven’t seen him walk yet.”
“I know how to walk, Theo,” Draco snarled through gritted teeth.
“Good, because we don’t have time to practice,” Hermione said. “I came to get you because the show is starting. We’re on any minute now.”
“Oh, Merlin. Really?” When Hermione nodded rapidly, Draco stammered, “Okay, yes. Fine. I… Erm, I’ll be there in a second. I’ll catch you up.”
“Alright, but really only a second, Draco. We’ve can’t miss our cue.” Hermione leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, and Draco blushed furiously. “Thank you for doing this,” she whispered. “You’ve no idea how much it means to me that you’re supporting the fundraising for House Elf access to dentistry. Those are two of my great loves.” She stepped back and excitedly clapped her hands a few times before disappearing down the corridor.
Draco let out the breath he was holding in the shape of the word, “Fuuuuccckkkk.”
“You’re already semi-hard, mate,” Theo observed, with a nod.
“Well, don’t fucking look at it.” Draco tried not to think of Hermione, but ended up thinking of Hermione. His cock twitched.
“Whoa, he’s coming out to play.”
“Oh, shit. This is a nightmare,” Draco groaned. “I’m about to walk a runway in front of the entire sodding school and my dick’s ready to poke someone’s eye out.”
“Calm down, Draco. Just… think about something else.”
“Like what?”
“Umm… What about your mum and dad boning?”
“Ew, Theo. That’s gross.”
“Exactly.”
Draco opened his mouth to chastise Theo, but felt his cock start to soften. “I—Okay, that’s working, actually. Keep going.”
“Oh,” Theo exclaimed, “well… Uh, imagine them doing it doggy style. Old Luci coming at your mum from behind an—”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Draco snapped. “I meant ‘keep going’ like give me other things to think about, not continue to theorise about my parents’ sex life!”
“Well, you didn’t specify!” Theo contested. “It’s doing the job, though. Little Draco is fully flaccid now.”
Peering down, Draco breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank the founders. Alright.” He adjusted himself in his thong and winced as the seam inched its way between his cheeks. “I need to get out there. Thanks, mate,” he said, clapping Theo on the back as he rushed past.
“Eh, Draco? Yo—”
“Tell me after, Theo,” Draco called over his shoulder, picking up his pace to a slow jog, despite the underwear chaffing his balls. “I’ve got to go.”
“But, mate, your boll—” was all Draco heard before he rounded the corner and almost ran straight into an angry Hermione. She tapped her watch as he fell into place next to her, quickly pushing through a curtain and on to the stage.
It wasn't until he reached the end of the runway—having already walked past McGonagall, Sprout, and Slughorn—and was met with the awkward giggles and pointing from students on the front row, that Draco realised he had a whole testicle hanging out.
In his rush to cup his hands around it and escape, he tripped over his own feet and came crashing down into Hagrid’s lap. The last thing he saw, before he was unceremoniously dumped on to the floor, was Hermione’s folded arms and slowly shaking head, as the rest of the Great Hall erupted into laughter.