Harry's imagination seemed to get caught in a loop of that morning, it played in fantasies, in his dreams and in class more often than he would ever admit, thank Merlin for robes hiding uncomfortable erections. Erections that he kept getting even when he wanked every day, two or three times a day, not counting the times he woke with damp pants in the morning like he was thirteen years old again.

He couldn't take a shower without imagining Draco in there with him, standing behind him, touching him with thorough, meticulous hands. At night he fantasised about Draco stepping out of the bathroom in nothing but silk and lace and joining Harry in his bed.

And his dreams-

His dreams were-

Illuminating.

One dream in particular; it started like a memory, with Draco putting on his lingerie in the bathroom except at some point, earlier and earlier with every repetition, Harry was the one wearing the delicate clothing. He stood in front of sink and Draco dressed him, hands and fingers sliding over Harry's skin with a reverence that made him tremble.

Harry spent his mornings in a fog of lingering desire until he'd see himself reflected in the mirror. Draco was so elegant, poised and beautiful and Harry was just, ordinary.

He stretched his hands out in front of himself. They were rough, his fingers blunt, and his brown skin marred by the fading 'I will not tell lies' left by Umbridge. Nothing special, maybe his eyes, but certainly nothing especially attractive, nothing that would look good in garters and stockings. But he couldn't stop thinking about it.

"What did you want to talk about, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry jolted out of his thoughts.

Hermione slowly shut the door behind her, frowning in concern, "Is it about why you've been so distracted lately?"

"I- yeah," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hermione crossed the dusty floor, looking around the disused room in confusion, "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Harry said quickly and suddenly wished he hadn't asked her to come at all but he knew he couldn't let it go either. "It's just, erm, embarrassing... I didn't know who else to ask."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it and just nodded.

Harry smiled gratefully. "Would you-" he cleared his throat nervously, "Um, do you know where someone might buy lingerie, like stockings and fancy knickers, that sort of thing?"

"Is this for someone or-?" Hermione asked carefully.

Harry looked down at the floor, "myself."

"Okay," Hermione said quietly. She touched his arm, pulling Harry's gaze back, "I know someone who buys things like that for people."

Harry's chest squeezed, and he felt faintly breathless, "Do you think they'd help? Would they tell anyone?"

Hermione thought for a second. "She wouldn't tell anyone-" she grimaced, "-but she's the type to enjoy knowing."

"What's that mean? Blackmail? Or-?"

Hermione sighed, "No... it's just this horrible smug look she has. I don't think it will bother you much."

Harry blinked in surprise, wondering why Hermione would know about the other girl's smug- Ah. His cheeks flushed hot, "You-?"

Hermione's face scrunched up, and she smacked his arm, "Oh, don't. I just saw the book she orders out of, and I thought Ron might look-"

"Stopstopstop!" Harry said waving his hands, "Merlin! I really don't want to know any more about- ergh- anything."

Hermione relaxed and smiled sheepishly, "As long as you know, there's nothing wrong with being interested in that sort of thing. I think everyone is a bit odd and that's just fine."

Harry huffed in relief, "Yeah."

"So, I'll talk to her and set up a meeting," Hermione said.

Harry smiled, "Thanks, Hermione."