Summary: Draco and Remus are danseurs, male ballet dancers, closeted ones of course. Harry, Ron and Severus find them, while Draco is in his costume. A bitch fight follows, and odd feelings are suddenly revealed, from Harry Potter and Ron Weasley nonetheless.

Pairings: Harry falls for Draco, Ron has a crush on Harry and Snape and Black like Remus. In other words, it's all one sided love, with Draco freaking out.

Warnings: Language and Slash

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, it all belongs to JK Rowling. I do not make any profit off of this fic.

Author's Notes: Read the crack at your own risk! And Review please!

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The Danseurs

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“You need to stretch your legs out more, like you’re doing the splits except in the air,” Lupin advised, though it sounded more like a command to Draco.

Draco suppressed a glare as he walked over to the other side of the room, trying very hard to make his strides as elegant but manly as possible. He turned around, stuck his head up in the air like there was something up his ass, which there most likely was and leaped forward, in a run.

Once he reached about three feet from Lupin, he jumped up, his right leg extending in front of him and his left behind him. It was as if he was floating on the air, his arms mimicking his legs. Draco could almost imagine how beautiful he looked.

He landed back on the ground, right on his toes, sending pain shooting up Draco’s leg but he ignored it and did a spin with his left leg in the air and ended in fifth position, with his toes touching the other foot’s heel.

“Are you trying to break your feet?” Draco couldn’t believe it. Instead of getting a round of applause he, he was being insulted?! “I didn’t ask for some fancy ending Draco, besides you’ve only been dancing for what, six months now? You can’t go around doing things like that. You’ll eventually break something. Anyways, that’s enough for tonight, go get some sleep.”

His teacher, and partner in secretly practicing ballet, Remus “Draco would never admit it, Hot” Lupin walked off to the back corner of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom turned dance studio. Draco panted for breath and started to stretch his limbs, he was going to feel the pain in his leg for weeks now.

Ten minutes later he was out of the class and sneaking back to the Slytherin dorms, having pulled on his robes overtop his skin coloured leotard. He could feel a wedgie coming on and a snarky comment to go with it but then realized he would be insulting himself and kept the comment to himself.

Draco knew that if he got caught or found for that matter it would never die, he would forever be, Ballerina Boy. Draco scowled at how prejudiced society could be, discriminating him because he enjoyed dancing. What sort of a basis was that to discriminate against? Fools, the whole lot of them.

He had reached the dungeons and in a few quick steps and whispered the password to the stone wall, which moved out of the way immediately. Draco walked in, tired from practice but was stopped in his steps for a few reasons.

The first, Blaise was standing before him in an absolutely absurd outfit, a dark brown pipe in his mouth which was spurting out bubbles.

The second, Crabbe and Goyle was sitting at a table, doing their homework. What the bloody hell? Was the apocalypse coming!?

And lastly, Pansy was no where to be seen even though Draco and told her to wait for him because he knew he was going to be tired and in need of a good massage. He hadn’t told her why he’d need the massage or where he was going but she was such a good little bitch and didn’t bother to ask any questions. Now if only he could get Theodore to listen…

“Draco!” Draco snapped out of his dream of making Theodore his bitch boy and looked over at Blaise who wore an expression on his face Draco couldn’t quite place. A mix between psychotic and high perhaps.

“What?” Draco snapped, striding in and taking in Blaise’s appearance, which looked similar to the on the cover of the book Blaise had shoved Draco’s face in that morning at breakfast causing him to spill his pumpkin juice all over himself and have a piece of jammed toast stuck to his head.

“Where have you been?” His voice was demanding and he suddenly strode around Draco and back in front of him in a quick few seconds.

“What’s it to you?” Draco growled. He got cranky when he was constantly annoyed.

“Why Draco, I’m your best friend, I deserve to know. Besides I’ve been hearing rumours.” He emphasised the rumours with this glee in his voice that didn’t make Draco happy in the least.

“What, what rumours?” Draco asked, trying to keep his calm on.

“That you,” here Blaise pointed his pipe all knowingly in Draco’s face, which caused a bubble to pop right in his left eye.

“Ow!” Draco cried, rubbing his eye.

“Wuss.”

“Sod off! I’m tired, I’m going to bed, you loon,” snarled Draco and he was just about to leave when Blaise yanked him back.

“Not so fast, I haven’t finished my sentence,” he said, in what seemed like an angry tone but for what reason he was angry Draco couldn’t imagine. He was the victim, the one with bubble solution in his eye. The nerve of this guy, in his plaited suit, to get iffy with him after he had tried so hard to show that bloody “Best Dancer of the Year” nominee off and only got told off for it.

“I don’t bloody care!” Draco spat.

“I do! It’s my incomplete sentence, and it DEMANDS to be finished!” Blaise retorted.

“Oh bloody Merlin, get on with it!” Draco cried, impatiently.

“Now then, I’ve heard rumours of you running off to the Ravenclaw dorms. What do you have to say to that, Mr. Malfoy!?” He wore this triumphant look on his face, which Draco thought looked absolutely ridiculous on him, as victory only ever looked good on Draco’s beautiful features.

“Er…I don’t care?” He offered.

“What!? But I’ve spent forever finding clues as to whether or not you’ve been going! Draco you’re not allowed to not care! Right Theo?” he complained, stomping his foot. Like a four-year old Draco thought.

“…” Came Theodore’s reply.

“Theo!?”

“…I don’t care Blaise.”

“But you’re my Watson! How am I, Sherlock Blaise, going to solve mysteries such as Draco’s late comings to bed without a Watson?” Blaise whined.

Theodore was currently wearing his patented I-don’t-give-a-bloody-fuck look and Draco suppressed an urge to laugh.

“Say something!”

“Fuck off.”

“That doesn’t count!”

“…Sod off?”

“Blaise…”

“WHAT!?” Draco took a step back from him but then realised why he had addressed him in the first place.

“My arm you prick! Let go of it! And how dare you touch me and,” Draco exclaimed, “hurt me! Look at this bruise! Look!” Draco was gesturing madly to the faint blue bruise on his arm were Blaise had squeezed too hard.

“There’s nothing there…” Blaise replied, with a look of disappointment in his eyes.

“Are you questioning me!?” Draco screamed, now acting like a four-year old himself.

Blaise looked at him and then walked off to Theodore, “Draco’s taking drugs, Theo, I’m sure of it.”

“He’s just a narcissist Blaise, now get out of those ridiculous clothes and put on your robes.”

“Never! I am Sherlock Blaise!”

Draco growled, “Blaise, I will write my father and tell him of your atrocious behaviour!” With that he stalked off, in a fit of his rage.

Blaise stared at him leave and turned to Theodore, “Why does he always write to his father…like holy crap, does he have a father complex?”

Theodore groaned in his seat, placing a hand on his forehead.

Draco awoke the next morning, feeling the intense pain in his leg. He had Defence Against the Dark Arts that very morning and he couldn’t limp to class, because Lupin would shove it in his face in tomorrow’s lesson.

He pulled off the covers, and sat up in his bed, already shivering because of the dungeon’s cold. He quickly grabbed his robes and got up, wincing as he stood on his left leg. Fuck, why am I always trying to be a show-off?

Draco began walking towards the washroom, slightly limping but trying not to make it look evident. Blaise was still sleeping, his costume lying on top of his trunk, Nott was already gone, that was usual and Crabbe and Goyle were snoring loudly. Draco rolled his eyes and entered the washroom.

By the time he finished taking a shower and fixing himself up to look devilishly handsome, Blaise was banging on the door screaming for him to come out. Draco thought it was extremely rude of Blaise to be acting in such a barbaric fashion, especially towards him, after all, Draco had to look his finest. How else was Potter going to feel jealous?

He sighed as he flung open the door, fully dressed, with his hair combed so that none of it tufted upwards. Proper grooming was very important to him, and he had started to experiment with his hair, getting rid of the slicked back look which just wasn’t doing it with the ladies.

“It took you long enough!” Blaise huffed, running past him into the washroom. Crabbe and Goyle were still sleeping and if it was possible, snoring louder than before. It must have been the homework they were doing last night…maybe it fried their brains…?

“Good morning to you too Blaise,” Draco retorted, looking every bit as insulted as his father would approve in the matter at hand. Of course he got nothing from Blaise because he was probably more obsessed with looking groomed than Draco. Sighing Draco walked out of the room, not bothering to wake up his lackeys, as he knew they wouldn’t get up.

His leg was throbbing, but he managed to hide the limp and walk steady with his usual grace and poise. He came into the common room, to find it empty, most of the Slytherins having already gone to eat breakfast.

He followed suit and walked out of the cold dungeons, towards the warmth of the Great Hall. He was hungry, and he wanted to have a word with Lupin before he went off to Charms.

Draco swept into the Great Hall, the portrait of elegance and style. He walked past the Gryffindor table to find a few girls ogling at him; Draco simply smirked in their direction. He couldn’t help it if he was drop dead gorgeous. Potter was giving him a disgusted look so Draco sneered back as he walked toward the Slytherin table. Turning to look away from the awful Gryffindors, Draco glanced at the Slytherin table. Pansy was seated in front of Theodore and there was a seat next to her that was open. Since she hadn’t shown up in the common room last night, Draco had a few questions to ask her.

“Good morning Pansy,” Draco drawled out, making a point to show her he was upset with her.

“Good morning Draco!” She smiled back. Draco put on a cold face and sneered as hardly as he could so to make it clear he was angry with her. She went on smiling, completely ignoring his glaring eyes.

“Pansy!” He cried, in frustration. Theodore snickered in front of him, and that only made Draco angrier.

“Mmhmm?” replied Pansy, still unaware of his obvious rage.

“Where were you last night?” asked Draco, adding butter onto his toast.

“Oh! Daphne and I had a sleepover! It was completely last minute but such fun!” Pansy exclaimed.

Draco didn’t say anything, absolutely disgusted that he was forgotten for that Daphne girl and her stupid sleepover. “Well then.” He finally muttered, curtly, getting up from his seat so he could speak with Lupin. “I have business, Parkinson. Good day.”

He saw the quizzical look on Pansy’s features and an amused one on Theodore’s’. Blaise was walking into the Great Hall as Draco walked over to Lupin. Draco could see the bubble blowing pipe in his mouth and a look of utter distress form on Theodore’s face.

Draco smirked. Serves him right!

He walked up to Lupin’s seat to see the man sipping his coffee as if no one else in the world existed. Maybe he was happy or something. Anyways, Draco’s urgency to speak with him was much more important than his happiness or bliss or whatever it was that he was currently feeling.

“Professor?” Draco called out.

The danseur’s eyes shot open and he glanced at Draco. “Mr. Malfoy. How can I help you?”

“It’s about last night,” replied Draco, looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to him or eavesdropping on his conversation. No one was so he proceeded. “I realize that last night didn’t go that well, so I was hoping if we could have a practice tonight?”

Lupin stared at Draco, for a very long time which made Draco’s mind wander a bit. He began to think about Potter and how the boy never seemed to clean himself up. Draco certainly couldn’t leave his fate in the hands of a boy who did not know how to comb his hair and dress himself in a respectable and tidy way.

“Draco?” A voice called his name

“Huh?!” Draco snapped out of his daze and looked at his Professor and teacher who had his brow raised and staring at him.

“I called you eight times…” He trailed, a look of concern crossing his face.

“Oh…” replied Draco, starting to go red in the face. “I’m sorry…”

“I’m sure you are. Are you alright?” Lupin enquired.

“Fine.” Draco replied keeping his answer short. Besides why would Lupin care if Pansy hadn’t shown up last night, leaving him to face the stupidity of Blaise? And he certainly couldn’t tell him about his leg.

“Swing by tonight, we can practice. Actually I wanted you to try something new, so it’ll be prefect,” he smiled, sipping from his cup.

“Thank-you Professor,” Draco smiled, suddenly noticing Potter and Weasley standing nearby.

Draco quickly hid his horror and sneered at both boys before walking off with his head up in the air, making sure it was graceful and beautiful. After all presentation was everything.

He didn’t bother to go back to the Slytherin table and walked straight out of the Great Hall, so he could get to Charms. Although showing up early wouldn’t do well for his image…besides that Charms Professor didn’t sit too well with Draco. He was such an ugly old prune like thing, and a short one at that. Ick.

In his reflective state Draco found himself standing right in front of the Charms classroom with no one else around. He was certainly early…and alone. Draco was suddenly hit with an idea. He could practice! Taking off his cloak, Draco threw it by the wall and started to stretch. A few minutes into it he felt that he was ready to go. He would practice his spins; they needed some work. Taking his shoes off, and shoving them over to his cloak, Draco did a few ups and downs on his toes to ready them. He then, lifted his left leg up so his foot met with his right leg’s knee and in an elegant manner brought his hands up over his head, going up and down on his toe a few more times, Draco flung his left leg outwards to the right, sending his body into a spin. As he rounded up and ended where he had started he found himself face to face with Fliwtick.

“Mr. Malfoy…” He trailed, looking more than disturbed and startled.

“Uh…Profe..ssor…” Draco trailed, still on his right toes with his hands up.

“I…I’ll be going into my…my classroom, you uh…ca-carry on?” Flitwick stumbled with his words and Draco snapped out of his own startled horror and quickly brought his hands and leg down to stand in his socks.

“Of course, Professor,” Draco smiled, grabbing his things and slipping them on. “I’ll, I’ll wait outside.”

“If, if you’d like,” responded Flitwick but didn’t seem to be moving in any direction. A few minutes passed in an awkward silence.

Draco finally broke it, “Uh, aren’t you going in?”

“Ah, yes! Of, of course! Sorry, sorry to disturb you…” The man scurried to the door, fumbling with his keys.

“You, you could use Alohamora,” Draco offered, his voice nervous.

“Yes, yes you’re, you’re right! Ha…ha, how, how silly of me.” He cried, more nervous and shaken than Draco.

“…” Draco could only smile nervously as he watched the Professor take his wand out and use the charm he had suggested to get into the classroom. He stumbled in and Draco stood in front of the open door willing someone, anyone to show up so he could forget all about Flitwick finding him in such a…personal position.

At that very moment Potter and his posse of two came around the corner and Draco almost groaned. Okay maybe not anyone

“Malfoy,” Weasley snarled, giving Draco a glare.

“Weasel.” Draco commented, not bothering to pay him any heed and walking into class. Draco could hear Flitwick mumbling but he immediately stopped when Draco entered. Even so Draco had caught the last part of his sentence, “must be a girl–”

Draco mentally groaned and sank into his seat, trying to ignore everyone in the room. He could hear the Gryffindorks whispering in front of him. Those stupid little nitwits, he thought miserably, flipping through his Charms textbook so as to make it seem he wasn’t paying attention to them or Flitwick…

Soon enough the rest of the students arrived, Blaise came and sat down next to him giving him a quizzical look which Draco decided to ignore. The class went by rather quickly; Flitwick didn’t look over at the Slytherins once, Draco assumed it was because of him or the fact that Blaise was blowing bubbles out of his pipe again. Crabbe and Goyle showed up late for class, with food in their hands. Flitwick asked them to eat their food in the hallway and then come in. Other than that, they were all practicing cleaning charms, which Draco thought completely useless, as he would never be doing any cleaning. His father would get a new House Elf and all would be fine. Potter had lost them the last one. Damn ruffian.

The rest of day went by with Draco speaking to no one as he was upset about being caught by Flitwick and afraid the prune would tell someone. He had better not though; otherwise he’d feel his father’s wrath…right after Draco told him he was taking ballet lessons. I’ll rethink that one…

Draco was seated at the Slytherin table happy he’d be going to practice tonight; it would make the rather nasty past hours happier. Besides dancing always helped him calm down and feel happier. Ever since his mother had taken him to Madam Lulu’s ballet The Three Knights Draco had fallen in love with the art. It was beautiful and once Draco had put two and two together he had realized that Sir Edward looked exactly like Professor Remus Lupin…

“What would you like Mr. Malfoy?” the Professor asked without looking up.

Draco stared at him, hard, as if willing him to look up and somehow expecting him to do so but no such luck, “You’re Sir Edward aren’t you?”

His head shot up and Draco couldn’t help but suppress his smirk, he was right, he always was. “How…how do you…?”

“Know?” finished Draco, still smirking, “I saw the ballet, my mother forced me to watch it.”

“Oh.” He looked terrified.

“Yes, so you are a ballerina right?” Draco lathered on, making sure to make Lupin feel as uncomfortable as possible.

“I’m a danseur. A male ballet dancer,” Lupin shot at him. Draco knew he was insulted.

“I know what a male ballet dancer is called Professor. However, I was wondering why a Wizard was participating in a Muggle dance.”

“Draco,” it was the first time Lupin had ever used his first name. “If it was a Muggle dance I doubt your mother would have taken you. There are plenty of Wizards who dance ballet.”

“Teach me.” Draco had only brought up the situation so he could benefit from it. There was something about ballet that, that intrigued him.

The tutu’s perhaps? Draco held a blush back, waiting for Lupin to answer him. The man looked absolutely stunned and speechless, and was soft of gaping at Draco with his mouth open.

“Sir?”

“I…you…ballet…what?”

“I’d like to learn, is there a problem?” Draco asked, in his most serious voice.

“Are you on drugs? Maybe you’re delirious with a fever! I’ll, I’ll get Madame Pomfrey.” The newly instated Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher jumped out of his seat and was making his way to the door.

“What’s so weird about me asking you to teach me how to dance?” Draco screamed, losing his calm completely. Father would have been disappointed.

Lupin flung around, “It’s you! You’re a Malfoy, I, why?”

“I think it’s fascinating…and…er…pretty.” Draco looked away from the Professor at the end, finding an old cupboard extremely interesting, what with it’s collected dust and peeling varnish. The dull brown colour was definitely very attractive.

“You think it’s pretty?”

“…That’s what I said.”

“…”

“…” Draco was tapping his foot, very quickly, it was a nervous habit.

“Maybe you should be a tap dancer, what with those tapping skills.” If it was supposed to be a joke, Draco was not amused.

“Are you going to teach me or not? And, why are you teaching at Hogwarts if you’re a danseur?” Draco threw the word back, emphasizing it so he could show Lupin just how much of an ass he was. Not that he though he was an ass. Pansy had just told him a few times. But what would she know; all she ever did was squeal at cute things and squawk at anything that was ‘gross.’

“Dumbledore asked me to, I couldn’t say no. Besides no one, but you it seems, knows I’m a danseur. And I expect it to stay that way.”

“You didn’t answer the first question,” Draco pointed out, demand in his tone.

“It would have to be after dinner, twice, maybe three times a week.”

“That’s fine with me.” Draco responded.

You get to wear the tutu!

Shut-up! His thoughts were getting out of hand.

“And it’ll need to be kept secret.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Draco responded, already making to get out of the room.

Lupin said nothing more so Draco left, extremely content with the way he handled the situation.

Draco realized that Blaise was calling him, and waving his hand in front of his face.

“What?” He snapped, trying to make it seem as if he was deep in thought.

“You blanked out, thinking about your Ravenclaw mistress?” He questioned, eyes narrowing in what Draco thought was Blaise’s questioning look.

“...Ravenclaw mistress!?” Draco and Pansy said at the same time, although Draco sounded more incredulous to Pansy’s appal.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Your Ravenclaw Mistress. That’s why you were late last night, right?” Blaise continues, ignoring Pansy’s shrieks at Draco.

“…You are the biggest buffoon I know,” Draco replied, ignoring Pansy out of pure malice. She had been at a sleepover while he needed her. Let her think he had a Ravenclaw mistress! Let her! As if he cared.

“Ah ha! Insulting me already, obviously you do have one!” Blaise persisted.

Draco blinked at him a few times, beginning to question why the boy in front of him was his best friend. “…I need to go. G’night.” Draco rose from his seat and began to walk. He had seen Lupin leaving his seat and knew that the lesson would start soon. He had his leotard underneath his robes and his ballet shoes safely shrunk and tucked into a robe pocket.

“Going to see her already!” Blaise shouted behind him, to which Pansy added, “DRACO HOW COULD YOU!?”

Draco rolled his eyes and continued to walk out of the Great Hall. He wound his way down to the DADA classroom and didn’t bother to knock as he entered. Lupin had changed the room into a dance studio once again; mirrors lined all the walls except for the one with the door.

“You were quick today,” Lupin smiled, he was wearing a loose pair of pants and an equally lose shirt. He had never once worn the leotard he had forced Draco into. Perverted old man…

“Well, I asked for the practice…” Draco responded, taking off his robes. He took out his shrunken ballet shoes and de-shrank them. Pulling off his shoes and socks, he slipped into them feeling the hard bit at the end.

“I’ve got a costume for you today,” said Lupin, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“A costume?” Draco asked, slightly worried about what it would be. He got up onto his feet, and started to make sure the leotard was properly on.

“A costume.” Lupin repeated. Draco turned around to look at his teacher, eyebrow raised.

“What would the costume be?” enquired Draco, hesitant to know.

“Why, you’re already wearing it,” he smiled, to Draco’s confusion.

“What’d you mean I’m wearing it? I’m just wearing my leotard,” Draco said, rather perplexed.

“I don’t believe you’re in your leotard anymore, Draco,” said Lupin, turning around and summoning a bottle of water which he took a small sip from. Draco, extremely confused, looked down at himself to tell his teacher he was still in nothing but his leotard. What he saw made his eyes bulge from their sockets.

“What in Merlin’s good name did you put on me!?” Draco screamed, unable to absorb that he was now standing it a rather flamboyant pink tutu, with dazzling white beads sown into it here and there. The tutu itself was rather frilly and seemed to stick out from Draco’s hips at a perpendicular level.

“Why I thought you knew…” said Lupin, sounding disappointed, “it’s a tutu Draco.”

“I know that! Why did you put it on me!?” Draco spat, more than just shocked at his current state.

“It helps a ballet dancer keep there arms away from their hips. I’ve noticed you have a problem with that. My teacher had me wear one when I had trouble keeping my hands the correct distance away from my hips. That and I had to see you in a tutu, since I’ve heard you drawl on about how dashing you would look in any colour,” Lupin grinned.

“You, you, how could you!?” screamed Draco.

Lupin only smiled, “If you want to be the best, you’d better get used to wearing it. Your arm to hip distance needs working on.”

Unable to retort back with anything that would meet his teacher’s explanation, Draco glared as hard as he could and clenched his jaw in his rage.

“There’s a good boy,” Lupin smiled. “Start your stretches, we’ll begin after.” Draco huffed, and began to make sure all his muscles were loosened up. Lifting his right leg backwards, Draco stretched it out as far as he could, feeling the pain shoot down his thigh.

Ten minutes later he was staring at his Lupin awaiting instructions. “Now then Draco, I want you to begin with your jumps, since that’s where we left off. Once I see some improvement, we’ll begin something new.”

At this point Draco was much too angry to be paying all his attention on his teacher and was picturing the man in the most ridiculous outfits he could imagine. A dress, purple in colour with an absurd amount of putrid green feathers, being amongst these outfits.

Walking, as if whatever he had shoved up his ass had been shoved up further, he stopped at the end of the room and began to run forward, jumping a few feet before his teacher, who stood smiling in black tights. Bastard!

After about an hour of jumping and running, and calling Lupin names along with picturing him in clown costumes (with the random bumblebee one here and there), Lupin asked Draco to stop and take a break.

“Your jumps are definitely getting better, however you’re trying too hard to extend your legs. Try to make the jump last longer too, in a ballet show, jumps like that are what get the audience going.”

Draco glared at him, took a sip of his water and with a snarl said, “How does this bloody tutu help with my jumps?”

“If you didn’t notice, not once were your arms to close to your body when you running for the jump, in fact they were spread out and made the presentation much better. Now then, how about we work on your en pointe dancing. Keep you steady on your toes, you don’t seem to have much balance,” Lupin instructed.

Draco wanted to groan, as dancing en pointe always left his feet aching. Moving over to the wall with the banister, Draco placed one hand firmly on the banister and lifted himself up onto his toes.

“Lift up your arms,” Lupin told him. Draco did just that, he felt himself tremble but he got himself steady. “Now, bend your knees down and then up. Repeat that, five times.”

Draco closed his eyes, concentrating, and bent down. Releasing a breath he went up, his feet shook under the pressure.

“Come on Draco.”

Draco, went down again and quickly brought himself up. He began to repeat the action but his feet weren’t going to hold for five knee bends. His toes felt like they were going to break.

“Steady, Draco. Steady.”

Then he fell, backwards. Of course Lupin caught him immediately, but Draco had wished he had fallen. He was angry. Mostly at himself. “Arg!”

That’s when the door opened. In walked Potter and his Weasel but hey stopped dead in there tracks when they saw Draco in Lupin’s arms wearing his delightful pink tutu.

Draco’s eyes widened and he quickly got out of Lupin’s arms, practically falling into them again as he tried.

“…Pro…fessor?” Potter managed to spit out and beside him Weasel’s head exploded and Draco saw the lack of his brain bursting out all over the clean mirrors along with his traitorous blood. Draco smiled glad Weasel had finally died. The world would be a better place, a much better place.

“Er…Harry,” Draco heard Lupin croak, which was when he realised that Weasel’s head hadn’t exploded and he had just seen that in his own head and that the boy was now standing there staring at him with disgust…and some other undistinguishable expression. It was on Potter’s face too…

Draco suddenly remembered exactly how pink and frilly his tutu was and horror began to etch its way onto his features, quicker by the second. Swallowing Draco looked at Lupin and Potter, not bothering to spare a look for Weasel as his head had not exploded and therefore there was nothing to look at.

“GET OUT!” He screamed, desperately pressing the tutu down so he wouldn’t look like a girl…Although, even if he did, he would make a very pretty one.

“Now, now Draco,” Lupin began but quieted down as he looked from Draco to the doorway. Draco’s eyes darted in the direction and saw that there was another “visitor”. There stood Severus “Dead Sexy” Snape, in all his evil, bitter, I-hate-Harry-James-Potter glory. The look on his face was rather peculiar…it almost matched the way Potter was staring at him…again, who cared about the Weasel.

Draco knew that his own face probably wore an expression equal to that of a centaur caught in the headlights of the Hogwarts Express. “Change, change my clothes, NOW!” shrieked Draco, turning around to face Lupin, who didn’t look all that worried.

“Calm down Draco. Let me talk to them, I’m sure they won’t tell anyone about, your…outfit…”

“YOU PUT ME IN THIS THING, NOW TAKE ME OUT!” Draco screamed, red in the face due to anger and embarrassment.

“Why would you want to take it off?” Draco froze where he stood and tried to make sure that the voice of who had asked the question wasn’t whose he thought it was. He looked at Lupin who was staring wide eyed in the direction of Potter. Dear Lord…

Not daring to turn around, Draco hissed at Lupin, “Change my clothes, now.”

“Do you really want to go from a tutu to a leotard? I mean a lot more leg shows in those things.”

Draco couldn’t believe his ears or his teacher. The man was positively crazy! “I don’t care! Get me out of this tutu!”

“Draco, shut-up! Lupin, you practice ballet?” This time it was Snape who was asking the creepy question. However, this time Draco turned around to stare incredulously at his Head of House. He had walked in and was now staring at Lupin in a very wanton way. The same look seemed to sit on Potter’s face and as Draco glanced at Weasel, he held the same expression.

“…I…uh…yes…” Lupin trailed. Draco was sure he wasn’t too comfortable with the look he was getting.

“I never knew,” Snape whispered, stepping forward. Draco took a step back, hitting Lupin. Snape sent him a death glare almost immediately and Potter sent one Lupin’s way. Feeling more uncomfortable than ever and feeling a wedgie coming on Draco scurried over to his robes, wrapping them around himself. This of course did not help to hide the tutu, and only made his robes look like a very ugly dress. Potter’s eyes did not leave him.

For the third time that night, someone walked into the room, “Moony, I –” and stood dead in their tracks, mouth a gap. This time, a person’s whose presence almost made Draco faint. It was Sirius “Hot like Colours Are” Black.

“Padfoot, what in bloody hell are you doing here?!” Lupin exclaimed, Snape twirled around to see him too and glared nastily.

Draco placed a hand against the wall, making sure he didn’t faint. Potter quickly walked over, “Are you okay? You can lean on me if you’d like.”

Draco stared at him with terror and an extreme nervousness and saw black flash before his eyes but then Snape and Black started walking around in a circle, glaring at each other, their hands both inside their robes ready to pull out their wands.

“Harry, if I wore a bloody tutu, would you notice me?” Weasel cried.

What bloody hell!? Draco thought, eye twitching as he felt bile rise up in his throat.

“Ron, you know why I can’t look at you. Hermione would get angry!”

“But Harry!”

“There are no buts Ron. You were meant for Hermione as I was for Draco. Don’t you read the fanfiction?”

“What are you talking about? What in Merlin’s name is fanfiction?”

Potter’s face contorted into confusion and he looked at Ron, “What did I just say?”

“Something about something called ‘fanfiction’,” Draco stated, matter-of-factly, forgetting Potter’s earlier statement of belonging to him.

“I see…What’s ‘fanfiction’?”

“I dunno,” Draco replied.

“You bastard! He’s mine!” Draco’s eyes flew over to Snape and Black, who were now throwing insults at one another.

“Yours?! You only like him because he’s in a leotard and dances ballet!” Black screamed.

“And what of it? I would treat him better than you!” Snape retorted, with equal ferocity.

“Would you, you greasy haired, crooked nosed vixen! You couldn’t have James, so now you’re going after Remus!”

“How dare you! I am no vixen! You’re the slutty vixen, sleeping with so many men and ignoring poor Remus all those years!”

“I did not ignore him!”

“Actually,” Lupin said, speaking up for the first time since the fight had started, “you did.”

“There you are, Mr. I’m All That!” Snape laughed. Black lunged at him, wrapping his fingers around his throat. Trying to scream, Snape cried out, coming off as a mouse.

Clawing at Sirius’s face, Snape tried to get away. Sirius quickly let go, patting his face to make sure it was fine.

“You bitch!” Sirius screamed, slapping Snape across the face. Snape looked absolutely furious. “How dare you ruin my face! It’s already lost so much! Remus certainly can’t be with ugly old you, therefore I must remain pretty!”

Glaring, Snape seethed, “You disgusting mutt! Remus doesn’t need some shallow prat!”

“Actually,” Remus began, only to have Black and Snape scream, “Shut-up! We’re fighting over you!” at him.

“So they’re fighting over Remus…” Draco stated obviously, staring at the fight.

“I think I saw two seventh years fight over some Ravenclaw guy like the before…” Potter trailed, enthralled.

“Really?” Draco asked.

“Yeah…” he answered. Draco caught Weasel glaring at him. Wasn’t he staring at me with longing a minute ago? Or does he just want Potter…?

The fight finally ended when Lupin hexed both of them and stalked off, after magically changing his clothes into robes, leaving Draco in his tutu. “Wait!” Draco screamed, only to bang into Longbottom, who was too busy screaming to notice Draco in his tutu. Draco was slightly hurt.

“CHO’S DEAD! SHE’S DEAD! THE SQUIRRELS! THE SQUIRRELS! THEY KILLED HER! MAULED HER TO DEATH!!”

“Who’s Cho…?” Potter asked.

“Oh yeah, you don’t know her yet. She’s your love interest over the next two years,” Longbottom explained, ceasing his screams. After a small pause he added, “Why’s Malfoy in a tutu?”

“Love interest? I only have eyes for Malfoy,” Potter stated, as if he were defending his honour.

“It’s true,” Weasel put in.

“What are you talking about!?” Draco shrieked, running off, in his ballet shoes and barely covered tutu.

“Draco wait!” Potter screamed after him, but only the once as Neville placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. Weasel stalked out of the room not looking back. After about five minutes of looking sad, Potter along with his newly acquired posse member, Longbottom left the room too.

Draco stormed into the Slytherin common room, running past Blaise and Pansy up the stairs. He went straight into the bathroom and ripped off the tutu. He then started to stomp on the tutu as if it was alive and trying to eat him and he needed to defend his life. When he was finally satisfied that it was dead, or just no longer all that angry, he pulled on his robes, took off his ballet shoes and finally realised that he didn’t have his pants. Which was also when he realised that he had just run past Blaise and Pansy and the Hogwarts hallways pant-less and in a tutu. If that didn’t scream kinky, he didn’t know what did.

Groaning rather loudly, he sank to his feet and thought of what a horrible day it had been. And who knew what Blaise and Pansy were going to say now, especially with Potter all gaga over him. Draco’s eyebrows scrunched together, as if he had forgotten something other than just his pants in Lupin’s classroom. “Didn’t Lupin hex Snape and Black…? Ah well, they’re wizards they’ll figure it out. I have my own problems.”

With that he got up, threw his tutu in the garbage can and walked straight over to his bed fell in and slept like a baby.

The next morning, Draco was ambushed with questions, none of which he answered and heard two Slytherin sixth years whispering about how Snape had brought some unknown man to Hogwarts and done things to him in Professor Lupin’s classroom. They also added that it was absolutely horrible that Snape didn’t take the man to his own chambers.

Draco, not wanting to ruin he rumour as it had no mention of him, sat down at the Slytherin table and happily ate his toast.

Of course Potter ruined his happiness by staring at him the entire time. Sighing Draco thought to himself how he was going to get out of this one. Screaming and running off in a tutu certainly wouldn’t do it.