Title: Plus ca Change (The More Things Change...)
Author: Lady Morsmordre ()
Artwork: Fitting by Rene
Rating: PG-13.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
"Come this way, dear, another young man is being fitted right now," said the plump witch, as the directed Harry to the back of the store. The scene in the fitting room was quite familiar, if one allowed for the differences seven years had wrought on the participants.
As it had been the first time, the pale boy was the first one to speak. "Talk about d�j� vu"
"Good seeing you too, Malfoy."
"Who said anything about good?" was the question Harry had expected, and of course, Malfoy did not disappoint, but there was no sting in the tone. Over the years, their verbal sparring and occasional pranks had become an accepted form of interaction. It was the way they dealt with each other.
With a noncommittal sound, Harry simply stood there, waiting for his turn to be measured. He needed a whole new wardrobe. At the rate he had shot up this summer, nothing fit anymore.
He was still as wiry as ever, not an ounce of bulk seemed to stay on him, in spite of all the feeding up in the form of cakes and pies he got owled from his friends -- to compensate for the Dursleys' latest efforts to help Dudley lose weight. Fruitless, as ever, as his rotund cousin had his own hoard of sweets in a hidden stash in his room, but Aunt Petunia did not give up, and the small portions of "rabbit food" had been a mainstay through the summer.
He passed the minutes looking around, his eyes again and again returning to Malfoy. Thin too, but some lines defined muscles in his arms and chest, and Harry could not help but admire them in the back of his mind. The other boy simply stood there, seemingly unconcerned with the witch running her tape measure up, down and around him.
The blond moved almost instinctively, possibly so used to getting fitted for new clothes, this was second nature to him. His eyes met Harry's once or twice, and a tiny glint appeared in them, but he did not seem concerned about standing in his underwear in front of people. Nothing to be ashamed in his looks, he probably figured. He's right too, Harry caught himself thinking, and he bashfully looked away.
Feigning the same confidence, Harry removed his robes to make measuring him easier on the second witch, who was approaching him with a tape measure of her own. "Stand straight, dear," she said softly, and began working around him.
A distinctive snort from the stool next to his made him look at Malfoy again. "Hmm?"
"What exactly do you call those, Potter?" was the amused question, and Harry could not help snapping his arms tightly to his sides, when he realized the other boy was pointedly looking at his underwear. Yes, they were a rather ratty grey, with nondescript reddish edges, but they were comfortable, cotton, and well, they were underwear, so what?
Nobody saw them, anyway, except at moments like this, but he really had not given a lot of thought to impressing Madam Malkin with his taste in undergarments when he dressed that morning.
"Underwear, Malfoy. I thought more highly of your vocabulary, to be honest."
A brow quirked, and an amused glint appeared in the Slytherin's eyes. "No, these are underwear," a slim finger pointed to his own silk green boxers. "That barely rates higher than a loincloth."
"What does it matter to you, anyway?"
"No reason. I was simply pointing out that you have no taste, on top of your other faults, but it's no matter to me."
Silence ensued, both witches still working around the boys.
Moments later, "You are done, dear," was heard from some place to Harry's right, and Malfoy nodded, climbed down from his stool and reached for his robes, putting them on. With barely a backward glance and a nod, he left for the front of the store, leaving Harry to continue getting measured.
It was a matter of minutes before Harry was done too, and he approached the front counter so he could leave a deposit for his new garments, and find out when he could pick them up.
Madam Malkin herself was writing down the particulars of his order. Looking at her tidy notes upside-down, Harry read, "Hogwarts uniform robes - 2 sets, white cotton undershirts 5, grey wool trousers 3, one set of formal robes in green, crimson silk boxer shorts 1."
"Excuse me, I did not order silk shorts," Harry noted.
"Oh, I know dear, young Mr. Malfoy did it for you, and paid for them in advance. He selected the material himself," the plump witch replied distractedly, while she matched figures to each line.
Harry was miffed and more than a little embarrassed, but it probably would not do to make a scene, or draw attention to this. If he ignored it, he hoped the witch would too. "I see."
Having paid for the rest of his order, Harry left Madam Malkin's shortly after, and looked up and down the street, catching a glimpse of bright blond hair just down the block. He called, "Malfoy, wait up!" and hurried after the other boy, who was about to enter an imposing-looking building. A private residence, Harry figured. It would be just like the Malfoys to have a house right on Diagon Alley. They probably would not even consider staying someplace like the Leaky Cauldron or another inn, even if all they were doing was coming to London for a day of shopping.
Without preamble, Harry asked "What were you thinking, ordering underwear for me?" making sure to pitch his voice low so passersby could not overhear.
"Oh, I did not do it for you, Potter," came the reply, in the smirking tone Harry knew so well. Malfoy only turned around slightly, his hand on the open door, about to walk inside.
"Then why? Does my underwear offend you that much that you'd buy me some new ones?"
"No, like I said, it was not really for you. It was for my own sake. You see, it can only make my creative visualization easier, after all. Right?" was the perplexing answer.
A wink later, the door was closed in Harry's mystified face. The blush burned in his cheeks, and a splutter was all that would come from his throat.