His feet were cold.

But Harry couldn't renew his heating charm in case Draco came in and felt the radiant heat.

And the longer he stood in a dark bathroom, the more he felt like an utter twat.

He should just go. Leave things alone like Hermione said. He could have a warm shower and skip Hagrid's class for an extra couple hours of sleep. Pretend he hadn't gone mad and decided to lurk about in a bathroom to spy on his roommate who was probably just-

There was a creak as Draco stepped inside, flicking his wand to turn on the lights. He eased the door shut, trying not to make noise and then leaned back against it with a sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face. He hung his uniform up on the hook on the back of the door, carelessly dropping his shoes on the floor, so one flipped under the sink, and set his little black bag on the edge of the counter.

Harry pressed his back against the wall, all too aware of his own breathing even though it made no noise.

Draco's hair was sticking up on one side, and he frowned at himself in the mirror, pressing it down with one hand, which worked annoyingly. His fingers worked over the buttons on his black silk shirt; fumbling and slow as he yawned. The silk slipped off one shoulder then the other, exposing a long neck and smooth, strong back. His skin was pale and flawless.

Harry was transfixed by the way his shoulder blades moved under the skin and the line of his spine tracing its way down his back. He shivered, heat flooding his body, pooling at the base of his spine. There was a part of his mind that was desperately screaming at him to close his eyes, to even turn away; this wasn't why he was here, this wasn't part of anything. But-

Draco laid his shirt over the edge of the sink and tugged at the tie holding his pyjama bottoms on He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and slid them off his hips, carefully stepping out of them, so they didn't fall on the floor.

Harry sucked in a shaky breath. He'd never properly stared at a bloke's arse before. And his legs- fuck. Draco's legs were long and gorgeous, strong thighs and perfectly shaped calves.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and desperately tried to press down his growing erection. He heard the shower turn on, water splashing and-

Draco huffed, and there was a sound of- of-

Harry's eyes flew open. A ward was all that separated the shower from the rest of the room, an invisible ward that only stopped water. Water sluiced down Draco's head over his chest and back, the heat of it flushing his skin pink and making rolling clouds of steam.

Draco leaned on his weight on one arm braced on the wall, his eyes squeezed closed as his other hand moved over his hard cock. He swiped his thumb over the head, and his face twitched, his mouth falling open. Despite the echoing sound of the water, all Harry could seem to hear was the sounds coming from Draco. The faint gasps and groans were the loudest of all.

Harry squeezed himself through his pyjama bottoms, squirming against the rough cotton and biting his bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. He had never been harder in his entire life.

Draco tilted his head back as his hand sped up, squeezing his eyes shut and, coming with a groan that made Harry's cock jolt, precome soaking into his sleep pants. Harry reached out and grasped the edges of his cloak tightly shut.

Draco had moved on to washing his hair and Harry was able to calm himself down, at least a bit, though his erection stubbornly refused to go down. It certainly didn't help at all he could see was Draco Malfoy washing a soapy flannel over himself in a way that ought to be illegal. He wished he could just close his eyes, but the image of Draco coming seemed to be permanently burned into the back of his eyelids.

Harry sagged in relief when Draco finally turned off the shower, stepping out and scrubbing a towel over his head as he cast a drying charm over his body.

Draco was in no rush to get dressed and stood naked, slowly towelling his hair dry in front of the sink before tossing the towel on the floor. He did a shaving charm though Harry couldn't see a lick of stubble on his chin. Finally, Draco pulled open the ties on his little black bag and reached his arm deep inside, pulling out a small pot of lotion or cream that he put on the counter, followed by another and another.

And Harry felt like a complete wanker. Of course, Draco Malfoy had a stupidly elaborate bath routine, and that would explain why he got up early and why he had a bag for everything, that many pots and potions wouldn't have fit on the sink if he tried to leave them.

The pots of creams were put away and replaced with a hair product and a cologne that left a subtle hint of a spicy muskiness in the air. Draco finished fussing with his hair and Harry thought that would be last of it, but Draco reached even deeper into the bag and carefully drew out three fancy dress boxes. They were each an inch thick, about the length and width of a large book in a creamy off-white colour. There was something stamped in a curling silver script on top, but Harry couldn't read it from where he was standing.

Draco opened each box just a bit, glancing at the contents with a frown then put them back in his bag and retrieved another three boxes to peek through, the second of which he apparently liked. He took the lid off and lifted out a pair of silky, steel-blue knickers edged with slightly darker blue lace. He stepped into them, slipping them up his long legs, fingers sliding down to pull the smooth material over his bum.

Harry's heart seemed to have moved to his throat.

Draco put on a matching garter belt that rested slightly above his hips, pale blue ribbons skimming across his thighs when he moved. He sat on the closed toilet lid and put his feet on the towel he had dropped on the floor, taking a stocking from the box and carefully gathering it up in his hand until he could slip his toes in. He slid the nearly sheer silk over his calves and up his thighs. Whenever he moved, Harry could see a blue tint to the hose

Draco stood and attached the garter clasps to the thin material with practised ease, adjusting the ribbons until they were slightly taut. He grabbed his wand from the counter and summoned his shoes, slipping them on and then transfiguring them into shiny black stilettos that made his arse positively breathtaking. He conjured a full-length mirror right beside Harry and studied himself in the reflection, pushing his hair back, turning and cocking out a hip just so with a self-satisfied smirk. He ran his hand over his thighs and arse and up over the lace garter belt.

Then he sighed and vanished the mirror, turning his shoes back into oxfords and put on his uniform and robes, until the lace and silk were hidden beneath layers of cotton and wool like they'd never been. Draco checked his hair in the mirror one last time, picked up his things and left.

He turned off the lights as he went, leaving Harry in darkness as his legs gave out and he slipped down the wall. Harry shoved down his pyjamas and fisted his cock with a shudder.

Harry remembered how Draco looked in the shower, his skin slick with water.

Outside Draco's wardrobe opened and closed as he put away his things.

Harry remembered Draco pulling on sheer tinted stockings up one leg, then the other, so agonisingly slowly.

And outside, Draco picked his bag up off his desk and looped it over his shoulder.

And Harry remembered how Draco looked in black stilettos, running his hands over skin and intricate lace.

There was a muffled click as the door to the dorm closed behind Draco.

In the dark, Harry came so hard his whole body shook.