Disclaimer: Characters in this story belong to JK Rowling, and her respective publishing company and yadda yadda.
Author's Note: Alright, so here's my attempt at something purely fluffy and cute. The idea came from an essay I read on vanishing spells in the HP universe. And the many many fanfics that have their characters simply vanish their clothing instead of removing I properly. Sorry, the story wasn't beta'd or anything. My eyes are keen, but not that keen.
Summary: You see, the problem with vanishing is that, if you do it improperly, you find yourself losing a little more than just your things…
Warnings: Uh, major slash. Some bump n' grind and highly suggestive sexual situations between two men.
The Problem with Vanishing
Harry stumbled backwards, gasping when his back made painful contact with the door behind him, the knob digging into his hip insistently. He let out a strangled cry, though his lips were otherwise occupied.
The other body that pressed into him didn't seem to care if he would have a bruise the size of Hogwarts on his back tomorrow morning; it just cared about tasting Harry. Harry finally quit trying to fight it and conceded.
And all too soon the heat that was pressed into him was gone, and Harry's hands flew to his dress shirt, tearing at the buttons, though his hands were shaking far too much to get them undone. He managed to pop three buttons off, but got fed up pretty quickly with the effort. With a frustrated sigh he took out his wand and vanished his clothing, standing starkers in front of his attacker.
After what seemed like an agonizing 13 seconds, his equally as starkers attacker was pressing his body into him, chest to chest, knees to knees, lips to lips; and Harry let out a satisfied moan, despite the door knob still digging into his hip painfully.
"You couldn't wait, could you?" Harry panted, trying, and failing, to peal his wet, green t-shirt from his body.
"Why should I have to?" his lover asked in a haughty tone, removing his own wet clothing with ease.
Harry paused in his attempts to remove his clothes and opted to stare as the beautiful specimen before him, drenched in rain, took their sweet, precious time to remove the rest of their clothing.
"We can't very well shag if you're still dressed, Potter," his lover informed him coolly, twisting in a way that drove Harry mad with desire.
Harry renewed his pursuit in tugging off his clothing, though it was now considerably more drenched and even harder to peal off, "For the love of…" Harry growled, then took his wand out and vanished his clothes.
And then he leapt at his lover, his lips clashing almost painfully in a clash of tongue and teeth and groping hands, made all the better by the torrential rain pouring down on them from above.
He didn't even think about how he was going to sneak back into his flat with no clothes as his lover attached his talented tongue to that spot right there, below his ear.
Harry hiccuped, and then giggled, as he tried his best to run up the stairs, his pursuer close on his heels and equally as stumbling and fumbling as he was. He lost his balance as he stepped on the edge of his casual robes, tearing the fabric around the feet, and nearly toppled backwards down the stairs as he reached the top, but was caught by a pair of sturdy arms.
Harry giggled again, his eyes swimming with the effects of the Elfin Wine and Fire Whiskey that he had consumed entirely too much of. His cohort's eyes, though foggy like his, weren't as foggy, and he seemed to understand what was going on a little better.
They stood at the top of the stairs for a while, alternating between giggling quietly and breathing heavily. They seemed keen to keep up this pattern while shifting a bit closer with tiny little baby steps. That is, until a door down the hall swung open and Harry spotted the familiar flash of the red hair of his best mate.
"Ro-UMPH!" he was cut off by a painful hand slapping over his mouth and dragging him into the nearest empty room.
"Harry, you dolt," hissed his partner in crime, trying to sound as angry as he could in his inebriated state, but failing miserably as he burst into a fit of little giggles.
For some reason, those little giggles infuriated Harry to no end, and he had to stop them instantly. He launched himself at the man in front of him, taking his lower lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth and biting down none too gently.
The giggles melted into soft and needy moans as Harry continued his mind numbing kiss. "Ha-Harry…I need you now," came the breathy plea that Harry had been waiting for, and Harry was happy to comply.
His fingers went to the buttons on his robes, but kept missing horribly, his motor skills thrown way off balance from the alcohol burning through his bloodstream in copious amounts.
He pulled away, concentrating on undoing the buttons. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as the concentrated very hard on the suddenly entirely impossible task. He let out a frustrated snort, and was answered with more giggles.
He finally gave up and vanished his clothes with a clumsy wave of his wand, then pounced on his lover, knocking them both to the floor with a loud and painful 'thump.' There they rolled around, battling for dominance, until one conceded and gave in to the drunken passion.
"It is straight, Draco," Harry grumbled, pulling on his tie.
"It is not, now stand still and let me redo it," the blond man said, standing in front of Harry and placing his hands on his chest, moving them slowly towards the tie.
"Ack! No! It's straight!" Harry said, swatting away Draco's hands and stepping back away from his lover. He turned his back to his boyfriend, crossing his arms over his chest, his shoulders tense.
The blond frowned, stepping forwards to place his hands on the tense shoulders, rubbing and massaging lightly. Harry relaxed slightly.
"What's got you so wound up, Harry?" Draco asked quietly, wrapping his arms around Harry's middle and placing his chin on his shoulder.
"Nothing," Harry mumbled, ducking his head to avoid having to look at Draco's reflection next to his own.
"Are you having second thoughts?" the blond asked. Harry shook his head fiercely.
"Of course not!" he said hotly, his fists curling at his side. He relaxed again as Draco placed calming kisses to the side of his neck.
"You're going to have to lend me a line here. I'm not a mind reader, you know," Draco reasoned, "And I want to know how to make you feel better."
"I guess I'm…nervous, is all. And afraid," Harry muttered after a long, pregnant pause. Draco regarded his quizzically.
"Afraid of what?"
"Of what they'll think…"
"Oh, of what they'll think of you and me?" Draco asked, his brows furrowing.
"Gods, no, Draco. I couldn't care less about what they think about you and me. I'm afraid of what they'll think when they find out I'm…" Harry swallowed thickly, unable to finish the thought.
"That you're gay?" Draco spoke the word with so much ease and grace that it almost instantly put Harry in a better place and a calmer state of mind. Harry nodded.
"Don't worry about that. If these people truly love you, like you say they do, then they'll accept you no matter what," Draco said wisely, and Harry smiled, turning about in his arms. He pressed a sweet kiss to Draco's lips, sighing contentedly through his nose.
The kiss continued sweetly like that for a few moments more, before Harry felt fingers fiddling with his tie again and he batted them away, stepping back and effectively breaking the kiss.
"Draco, I said leave the tie, it's fine," Harry said, his tone deep and steely.
"But Harry," Draco whinged, reaching out for the tie again.
Harry pulled his wand out, "Fine! I won't wear a tie!" He pointed his wand at his tie, and the tie vanished. "In fact, I won't wear any clothes at all!" The rest of his clothes vanished with another swoop of his wand.
He turned around and made to storm from the room, but his wrist was caught and he was twirled around, hugged to a fully clothed body. Lips were pressed to his and he melted as they whispered, "I'm not complaining."
"You take that back right now!" Harry shouted, flinging a spell at his rival.
"Only if you take it back first!" exclaimed Draco, blocking the spell and deflecting it into a lamp, which turned a horrid puce color. His eyes flashed dangerously as he thought of his robes turning that color.
Harry ducked as a spell flew at him, hitting the wall behind him and turning it transparent. "I didn't say anything wrong!" he answered, aiming a spell at Draco and missing.
"Like hell you didn't!" Draco shot back, shooting another spell at Harry, and then ducking behind a sofa as Harry deflected it back to him. The flowers on the mantle behind him exploded into a bunch of bits of sparkling confetti that stuck in his hair and to his robes.
Harry snarled, the sound vicious and angry. He shied away from a hex sent at him from Draco, barely paying attention as a picture on the wall behind him turned into a wooden duck and fell useless to the ground behind him.
"Fine! I did say something! And maybe I'll say it again!" Harry barked, shooting a stream of little pillows from the tip of his wand that flew towards Draco and exploded in little puffs of flour and feathers where they hit.
Draco spat out a mouthful of feathers and flour and peaked over the edge of the couch, which was a bad idea because a spell hit him square in the face. He felt his nose twisting and contorting and changing shape. He reached a hand up to touch the new nose with the tip of his fingers. He was horrified to find that it squeaked when he touched it and felt soft and plush. He twisted around to view himself in a mirror. His jaw dropped when he found a shiny red clown's nose in the middle of his face.
He whirled around in anger, his wand level at Harry, who was now roaring in laughter at the confetti covered, clown-nosed Draco. "You bloody wanker!" Draco howled, aiming hex after hex at Harry.
Harry yelped and began to retreat from the hexes the best he could. One caught him in the hindquarters, and the clothes vanished from the contact, leaving his bare buttocks hanging out. He yelped again when another hex caught his left arm, the sleeve of his robes disappearing.
Draco cackled in demented delight as Harry failed to escape his spells. He chased Harry around the flat that they shared, shooting hexes at him until his hair was bright green, his left foot large and grey, like an elephant's, and all of his clothes were gone.
They finally stood face to face, both panting and clutching their wands at their sides. They both wore matching looks of fury and contempt. That is, until Harry's face split into a wide grin.
Draco sneered, "What're you smiling at, Potter?" he growled. Harry winced slightly; Draco only used his last name when he was truly angry. But that didn't stop him from smiling.
"I think this was all a ruse to get me naked and to get out of dinner at the Weasleys," Harry stated, his smile still plastered to his face.
Draco rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh yes, Potter. I made you say something horrible about my manhood because I wanted to end up looking like a sparkling poncey clown," he said coolly.
Harry grinned wider, and then pulled his wand out and made Draco's clown nose disappear. He stepped forwards to deliver a short, sweet kiss to Draco's cheek. "I'm sorry I said that you over compensate by buying too many clothes," Harry stated solemnly.
Draco sighed, and laid his hands on Harry's shoulders, "And I'm sorry that I called Granger a Mudblood," he said forlornly. Harry cleared his throat, obviously wanting more, "Three times," he added.
"Good," Harry stated with a firm nod before wrapping his arms around Draco and pulling him into a tight hug. He pulled back, grinning again.
"What's that smile for?" Draco asked wearily.
"You've got a completely nude boyfriend who was just thoroughly angry with you and is now completely willing to have fantastic make up sex, and you're asking him why he's smiling?" Harry asked incredulously.
Draco's grinned matched Harry's, and he pushed his nude, green-haired lover back towards the bed they shared.
Harry stared in dismay at his rack in his and Draco's shared closet. Where there were normally robes and muggle clothes hanging side by side, there was nothing.
"Harry! Hurry along or we'll be late!" Draco called from in front of the mirror he was primping in.
Harry didn't answer, and continued to stare in utter shock and disbelief. There were three pairs of jeans, two t-shirts, a wife-beater, one set of old dress-robes and his school robes remaining on the racks. Every other bit of clothing was gone.
"Harry! Did you hear me? We're going to be late!" Draco exclaimed indignantly as he stormed to the closet. "You know Mother hates tardiness," he was saying as he walked into the closet. His words died off quickly as he followed Harry's line of sight.
When he didn't speak, Harry did. "Draco, I've no clothes," he stated simply.
"I can see that, dolt. The question is; where are your clothes?" he asked, approaching the nearly empty rack.
"Don't you think I'd have had clothes on by now if I knew?" Harry snapped, glaring over at Draco. "Is this some kind of joke? Did you hide all my clothes on me?"
"Why would I do something childish like that?" Draco snapped back, offended by the accusation.
"I don't know, as a way to get even for something I didn't do," Harry stated, folding his arms over his chest and trying his best to look like a haughty Slytherin.
Draco snorted, "Yes, Harry, you've caught me. I wanted to make us late for dinner at the Manor because I love hearing my mother complain and gripe about how I can never be on time."
"Well it's not my fault that you have punctuality issues," Harry sniffed, lifting his chin a bit higher.
The next few moments were spent in an awkward, hurt silence as they stared together at Harry's nearly empty rack of clothing. The only reason Harry suspected Draco was because the other man's clothing was still all there. But Draco was vehemently denying the fact that he had anything to do with it, and he normally 'fessed up if Harry caught him in a scheme.
"I should go tell Mother that we'll be late," Draco sighed finally, turning to leave the closet. Harry stayed, staring curiously at his empty rack. He ran his fingers through the space below the empty hangers. He expected his hands to run over invisible clothing as he did it, but there was nothing. He searched the wall behind the rack, but nothing showed up there, either. He let out an annoyed huff, crossing his arms and pouting.
"Alright, Harry. Mother's okay if we show up a bit late. She said she got to a late start anyways," Draco said, coming back into the closet with Harry. He paused when he noticed Harry staring moodily at his empty clothes rack and laughed.
Harry whipped his head around, glaring at him. "This isn't a laughing matter, Draco, somebody stole all of my clothes!" he exclaimed, waving his hands in an agitated matter in front of him.
Draco continued to laugh as he stepped forwards, catching Harry's hands in the both of his. "You're so cute when you pout," he stated, pressing a short kiss to Harry's unaffected pouting lips.
"I'm not cute," he muttered dejectedly. His head fell forwards, and he pressed his forehead to Draco's shoulder.
"You are too," Draco insisted, turning his head to press small, fevered kisses to the side of his lover's neck. He grinned when Harry shuddered, leaning his head a bit more the side to allow Draco more room to press kisses to his neck, though he kept up his pouty persona.
He let out a sharp gasp, grinding his hips forwards when Draco's tongue hit that spot under his ear in just the right way. That made both of them gasp, their erections rubbing together through their clothing. Harry repeated the motion, and they both gasped again.
Draco pulled his lips away from Harry's neck, and their lips clashed together, each man battling for dominance over the kiss. All the while Harry continued his rutting, changing the angle of his thrusts to optimize the experience. Their tongues twisted and played tag, poking at gums and teeth and dancing, joining the frantic thrusting pattern of their hips.
Soon Harry was pulling away, his breath coming out in short, gasping pants, his eyes fluttering madly in a way Draco knew meant Harry was close to orgasm. Draco's lips attacked Harry's throat again, nipping in spots he knew drove his lover mad. Harry's hips snapped more violently, jerking and grinding in a frantic pace, and soon Draco felt that he was close as well.
Harry came first, shouting his climax and accenting it with a particularly delicious thrust of his hips. He continued to rut against Draco until Draco was also shouting out his orgasm, his hips rolling languidly against Harry's as they both rode out their orgasm. When they were both satisfied fully, they leaned heavily against each other, panting in attempt to regain their breath.
Eventually Harry pulled away a bit and pulled his wand out. Instead of just cleaning up the mess they had both made in their trousers, he vanished their clothes completely.
Draco let out an amused snort, and pulled further back from Harry, his eyes smiling and his lips smirking.
"Harry, I think I've just solved the case of the Golden Boy's missing clothing," he said nonchalantly. Harry looked up, startled at the sudden admission.
"Let's have it then," he said, still a little breathless.
"You, my dear Harry, are the caper behind your own disappearing clothes," he stated simply, not offering Harry an explanation at first.
Harry rolled his eyes, "Draco, that's ridiculous, you don't know what you're talking about."
"Where do you vanish your clothes to?" Draco asked, his brows arched, his lips still twisted into a knowing smirk.
"What do you mean where do I vanish them to? I just…vanish…them. Oh," Harry stared dumfounded at Draco, his cheeks flushing a bright, embarrassed red on top of the flush that he already wore from their prior activities. "Well how was I supposed to know I had to direct them somewhere? I only assumed that they'd end up back here!" he exclaimed, trying to wipe that smirk off Draco's face and failing.
Draco snorted in laughter again. "Get ready, Harry, Mother's expecting us. You can wear some of my robes, I suppose," he said, grinning over his shoulder as he turned to his racks of clothing to pick out a new outfit.
Harry let out a frustrated sigh and joined him.
Somewhere, in the middle of a deserted mall, in the middle of Middle-America, lay a heaping pile of clothes, including, but not limited to:
One set of dress clothes, the pressed white shirt missing three buttons and black trousers.
A crinkled up green t-shirt that looked as if it had dried in the wrong way from being drenched and a pair of thoroughly formerly-wet jeans.
A set of casual robes, the hem at the bottom tore, where someone had tripped over them.
Another dress shirt, attached to a crooked tie, and some dress trousers.
A set of robes, missing the butt and a left sleeve. The left sleeve lay not too far away.
And two pairs of thoroughly satiated trousers laying on top one another.