Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, or even an I-pod, and I'm not making any money off this.
Warnings: Slash, insanity, maybe crack, uselessness, undercurrents of Seamus/Dean.
A/N: This is an old story. Proceed with caution.
"Draco Malfoy looks hot in makeup, you know."
Harry could have gone his whole life without knowing that. He clearly wasn't the only one who thought so, either. Some things are just better left unsaid.
"What?" Ginny smiled thoughtfully. "He does."
There were a few more minutes of silence, in which Harry gawked at his friend, and Ron stared disgustedly at his sister. His voice came out dry and indignant. "Why are you telling us this?" It only made her smile more.
Ginny leaned back against the couch and absently flipped her fiery curls over her shoulder. At least she had the decency to blush a little, but only just so. She had the entire room's attention. "Because it's interesting information, silly. Besides, you asked me for gossip about the Slytherins – what did you think I would come up with?"
"Their latest Quidditch plans or something," Ron retorted, "not what Malfoy looks like in drag!"
Giggling a little, Ginny shrugged. "Oh. Well, now you know. Hope that'll come in handy, anyway." She slid off the end of his bed and headed for the dormitory door. She paused at the entrance, with one hand on the frame. "And I didn't say in drag. ...That information's still pending."
With a wink she closed the door, leaving Harry with the unpleasant mental image of Malfoy in a green dress. It looked suspiciously like the one he had once seen Snape in – or at least, a Boggart in Snape's form. It wasn't at all flattering. Hardly what he'd call hot.
Dean was the first person to break the silence. "One, why does she know creepy inside stuff on the Slytherins, and two, why is was she allowed in the boy's dorms? I'm not allowed in the girls."
Ignoring the last sentence, as he had had the same experience once upon a time, Ron muttered darkly, "She's dating one of them – Zambini or whatever. And Dumbledore trusts girls more than us."
Seamus rolled his eyes. "It's Zabini, and it's not like Dumbledore built this school." Everyone in the room glanced at him, and his cheeks went pink. "What? Blaise Zabini –he's in half our classes."
Dean glared at him. "Why do you know so much about the guys in Slytherin?"
"I don't, just his name!" The sandy-haired boy went even redder. "Besides, what do you care who I know?"
Apparently Dean didn't know why he cared either, because he glared down at his shoes and didn't reply. Instead, he turned his head to the side and said, "Doesn't matter if Ginny finds out their plays for us, Gryffindor'll take the Cup anyway, right, Harry?"
Harry gave a start. The little Malfoy-in-a-dress behind his eyes refused to go away, and it was traumatizing him out of breath. "Huh?" he said, before swinging his head wildly around at them. "Ginny plays what?"
Dean and Seamus both gave him a funny look. Ron was still looking absolutely mortified.
"I've never seen Malfoy wearing makeup before," he mumbled, like a zombie in a trance. "Do you think he really does?"
Now the little Malfoy-in-a-dress was also wearing Aunt Petunia's nail polish and lipstick. Neither matched the dress. The room was utterly quiet.
Then, at the same time, "Yes." "No."
Dean and Seamus looked at each other. After a moment, the latter muttered, "Am I the only one who's always thought he's a bit of a pansy? He does have awfully nice hair."
Dean narrowed his eyes. "Dude, he's a pansy alright, but just because he's such a wimp. Where'd the hair thing come from?"
Seamus shrugged. "Yours is nice, too."
Dean opened his mouth, closed it again, and lapsed into silence again. After a moment he crawled into bed, smiling oddly, and a moment later Seamus did the same thing.
Ron took a few more minutes before following suit, and he did so mumbling, "Stupid git won't know what's coming..."
When Harry finally joined his roommates, the lights had already been off for a good while. He was still staring at the blond in the back of his mind, squinting and widening his eyes. He supposed if the dress were a bit up-to-date, Malfoy could look a little pretty. He was just saying that as an honest fact, mind. The stupid ferret was still a bloody git.
That said, he pulled the covers over his head, before the now-dancing image did lasting damaged. He doubted Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would be very happy about paying for him to see a shrink, no matter how amusing it would be for Dudley to rub in.