Harry lay on the hotel room bed trying to rein in his impatience. His attention shifted back and forth from a strangely-shaped spot on the ceiling to the clock next to the bed.

"Are you done yet?" he called when the red numbers clicked over to 8:55.

"Perfection takes time, Potter." Malfoy's voice from the bathroom sounded smug.

"Perfection is going to miss the mark if he doesn't get his arse moving."

"I have plenty of time. Bulgar never makes it to the bar until 9:05 and I'm nearly finished… there. All done." There was the sound of running water, then a pause, and then Harry's Auror partner appeared in the doorway. "Well? What do you think?"

Harry sat up and then was very glad he was seated or else he might have fallen. He knew his jaw was gaping, but he couldn't seem to force it back into place.

Malfoy cocked a brow at him, obviously expecting feedback, but Harry's brain seemed to have left the building, replaced by the overly loud sound of his pounding heart. He made a strangled noise that was utterly inadequate at expressing his opinion. In truth, he wasn't even sure of his opinion.

Malfoy wore a dress, if the scrap of blue silk could be called a dress. It looked more like an oversized shirt, except that it hugged Malfoy's form and highlighted the slenderness of his waist and hips. It fell to mid-thigh, with tight sleeves that covered his arms, but bared his shoulders.

Malfoy's hair was longer than usual, curling in soft ringlets around his face and falling around his neck, but it was just as blond and soft-looking as ever. His face was the same, but different, with kohl around his eyes and something shiny on his lips. His lashes seemed longer and darker.

His hands went to his hips and he made a huff of annoyance. "Feedback, Potter," he demanded before spreading his arms wide and executing a slow turn, giving Harry a view of his arse encased in the blue silk, and his bare-looking legs that seemed to travel downward forever before ending in feet encased in gleaming blue heels.

"It's um… great," Harry managed finally. "Very convincing."

Fuck me, he thought to himself. Malfoy made an amazing girl. Except that Harry knew he wasn't a girl at all, he was simply Malfoy in girl clothes. For some reason, it was erotic beyond belief. Harry's body certainly found it so—he didn't dare rise from the bed and disclose his condition.

"Excellent vote of confidence, Potter. Thanks for that." Malfoy rolled his eyes and strode to the small desk near the door. He picked up a small silvery handbag and then looked over one bare shoulder at Harry. "Try to be inconspicuous."

With that, Malfoy sauntered out, walking in the high-heeled pumps as though he had been wearing them his whole life. When the door closed behind him, Harry sprawled on the bed with a groan. This is bad. This is very bad.

Harry had talked himself into believing that his growing crush on Malfoy was nothing more than misplaced emotion caused by them working together. They had been through dozens of dangerous situations ever since Kingsley had made them Auror partners and Harry had gone from annoyance to reluctant tolerance to implicit trust.

But this…

Harry pushed himself away from the bed. He could have a personal crisis later, after he made sure his partner was not in danger.

He checked his appearance in the mirror and hurried out.

The hotel bar was a popular place at this particular hotel. They had been sent to Brussels to question Merwin Bulgar, before he jaunted off to the next country on his world tour, one he had begun after he had inherited a large sum of money from his dead uncle. The Ministry needed to determine if Bulgar had contributed to his uncle's death in order to speed the inheritance process. Unfortunately, Bulgar was a Muggle and Brussels was currently operating on an anti-magic ban.

The ban had caused Malfoy to rant for a full hour about "stupid political machinations" and "pro-Muggle extremists" and "intolerance never breeding tolerance". He also included a completely inappropriate, in Harry's opinion, tirade about Harry's wardrobe. Harry had only nodded in agreement and allowed Malfoy to drag him to several shops to prepare for the mission. The shopping trip had resulted in Harry's natty new wardrobe and Malfoy's current state of girl.

It had seemed like a simple plan, since Bulgar was known to have a weakness for women. Malfoy would Polyjuice as a girl, ply Bulgar with drink, invite him back to her room, and extract a confession. They had done it before and it had never bothered Harry to see Malfoy in someone else's form. But this time was completely different. This time, it wasn't Polyjuice—it was Malfoy in a dress.

Harry thought it was Malfoy's stubbornness that forced him to go through with the plan despite their inability to use magic of any sort, ignoring Harry's insistence that they simply wait for Bulgar to leave Brussels and have a go with Legilimency. Granted, Bulgar seemed more than happy to hang out in Brussels for an extended period. They had followed him for four days and he seemed no closer to leaving.

Malfoy was seated at the bar. The high stool made the hem of the dress ride up even higher on his thigh, exposing far too much skin, in Harry's opinion. And when did Malfoy acquire such nice legs? It must have been the shoes that made them look so… touchable.

Harry took a seat in a darkened corner and ordered a whiskey from a passing waitress. He didn't care if he was on duty; he needed a drink.

Malfoy leaned toward Bulgar, who was surprisingly handsome but for a slight paunch likely caused by too much alcohol. He covered it well by wearing tailored suits. Within moments, Malfoy had encouraged Bulgar to move to a tiny table at the edge of the room, closer to Harry. The table was barely large enough for two drinks to fit on, and Malfoy's knees touched Bulgar's beneath the table. As Malfoy sat down, Harry noted with a jolt that Malfoy's legs weren't bare at all, but covered in sheer stockings that were clasped with tiny buckles attached to white suspenders.

Harry gulped his drink as soon as the waitress brought it.

Malfoy laughed at something Bulgar said and then reached out and delicately tapped at Bulgar's wrist. Bulgar snatched at Malfoy's hand before it withdrew and tugged on it in order to place a kiss on his knuckles. Malfoy smiled and Harry ordered a double.

In the space of a half hour, Harry became more and more agitated while watching the pair. Malfoy made a show of putting on lipstick that caused his lips to gleam when he smiled. Bulgar shifted closer in order to close his fingers around some delicate bauble Malfoy wore around his neck. Bulgar tugged on it, pretending to study it, and Harry nearly rolled his eyes at the obvious ploy. Sure enough, when Malfoy was close enough to kiss, Bulgar's lips pressed against Malfoy's.

The glass shattered in Harry's hand. Only iron self-control kept him from allowing his magic to explode forth and break something. He looked at the blood in surprise and then the waitress was there, sweeping up the glass and exclaiming over his injury in words he barely heard. When she stopped blocking his view to rush off and fetch him first-aid, Harry saw Malfoy and Bulgar heading for the exit.

Fuck! Harry clenched a damp cocktail napkin in his fist to stop the bleeding, tossed some money on the table, and followed. The lift doors were closing on Malfoy and Bulgar when Harry rushed forward and shoved his injured hand between the closing halves. With a ping, the doors opened and he stepped inside with a sheepish, "Sorry."

He made a show of pressing the button for the 8th floor, which was already lit, and then pretended to watch the numbers as they rose. From the corner of his eye, he watched Bulgar lean close and murmur in Malfoy's ear. He had a possessive hand clasped around Malfoy's hip. Harry's hand clenched on the napkin.

Malfoy laughed and Harry's eyes swung to him. Their gazes locked for a moment, Malfoy's silvery and dark, Harry's probably displaying far too much anger for the job.

Harry lingered to allow Malfoy to exit first, followed by Bulgar. Malfoy halted at the cover room and opened the door with a card key. Harry walked past them and fished the other room key from his pocket. The rooms adjoined and Malfoy had strewn girl clothes and toiletries all over the other in order to make it look like he was a female travelling alone.

Harry closed the door and hurried to the sliding portal that separated his room from Malfoy's. He heard glass touching a countertop and then the pop of a cork being extracted from a wine bottle. Harry wondered how far Malfoy would go. Surely, Bulgar would not be happy should he shove a hand beneath Malfoy's pretty dress only to find a cock waiting there.

Harry rested his head against the door and shut his eyes against the image. He pictured his own hand sliding up those thighs, over the stockings, touching soft skin and moving higher. Was Malfoy wearing lacy knickers? Probably, knowing him. The very idea of Malfoy's cock encased in a scrap of lace and silk made it difficult for him to breathe. Harry swallowed hard and finally admitted that he had a very real thing for his partner. And, apparently, a thing for his partner in feminine clothing.

The sound of voices was indistinct and Harry wondered if Bulgar knew Malfoy was a man and simply didn't care. Perhaps he was just as excited by Harry at the prospect of sliding the silk dress from Malfoy's slender body, or even to leave it on and simply bunch the dress around Malfoy's waist to expose that incredible arse.

Harry's fingers touched the indentation that would slide the door open. He had tested it earlier and knew it was soundless. A quick peek wouldn't hurt, just to make sure Malfoy was all right.

A thud and the sound of breaking glass made Harry fling the door open. He stared at Malfoy, who stood over Bulgar's prone form with a clenched fist.

"Is he dead?" Harry asked.

Malfoy glared at him, looking completely like himself in that moment, despite the ringlets and makeup and attire. "Of course not. Were you enjoying the show?"

"I wasn't watching!" Harry protested, but he flushed because he had been about to. "What did you do to him?"

"Muggle drugs in his drink, Potter. You should look into them. Help me move him to the bed."

Harry wanted to ask why, but he simply took Bulgar by the arms while Malfoy grabbed his ankles. They sidestepped across the room and flung Bulgar on the bed.

"He's innocent," Malfoy said. "Bastard just got lucky. We'll need to look somewhere else for his uncle's killer. If it wasn't for the money, there has to be another motive."

Harry barely heard him, because Malfoy's hands were busy fastening Bulgar's trousers, which had been partially undone. "How do you know he's innocent?"

"Veritaserum. They confiscated our potions, but not my Veritaserum-laced lipstick." Malfoy looked smug, as well he should, the tricky bastard. "Pity the Muggle drugs knocked him out so quickly. I could do with a decent shag."

Harry goggled at him. "A shag?" he echoed in a choked tone.

Malfoy glared. "Spare me your homophobic self-righteous nattering, Potter. I don't want to hear it."

"What? I'm not homophobic!" Harry was surprised at the idea, especially considering how much he'd wanted to put his hands on Malfoy all evening, but the thought of Malfoy wanting Bulgar was surprisingly irritating. Harry shook his head, exasperated. "You don't know anything."

Harry spun on a heel and returned to the adjoining room. They had what they needed. He couldn't wait to leave. His thoughts were whirling. Had Malfoy really been interested in Bulgar, or was he simply being an arse and having Harry on?

Malfoy slammed the adjoining door and locked it.

"I don't know anything?" Malfoy demanded. "Then what was that display downstairs? I have never seen a glimmer of interest in your eyes until I put on this!" Malfoy gestured to his current outfit and sneered. "I'm not a bloody girl, Potter, so get over it."

"What are you on about? I know you're not a girl. What does that have to do with anything?"

Malfoy made a huffing noise and turned away, dismissing him. "Never mind. Forget it. Let's just finish this."

"Wait, are you saying you want me to be interested?"

Harry couldn't see his face, but the defeated dip of his head and the tension in his shoulders said volumes. For Harry it was like the moon appearing though a gap in the clouds to illuminate the darkness.

"Are you still wearing that lipstick?" Harry growled and marched forward. Without waiting for an answer, he swung Malfoy around by one shoulder and hauled him in for a kiss. After a moment of shocked stiffness, Malfoy seemed to melt against him. Harry kissed him as though he would die without a taste of Malfoy's lips, and he licked at Malfoy's mouth, tracing the contours before delving inside to taste everything he could reach.

He pulled away after long minutes, feeling the familiar lightheaded sensation induced by Veritaserum and expanded by Malfoy's kiss. He stared into Malfoy's startled eyes. "Ask me anything," Harry whispered.

"Do you want me?" Malfoy asked in the same hushed tone.

"Yes."

"Because I look like a girl now?" His voice sounded bitter.

"No. Yes." Harry groaned. He realized it might have been a mistake to hand Malfoy the power of absolute truth, but Malfoy looked shocked.

"How can it be both? You can't fight Veritaserum, can you?"

"Because I want you all the time, but dressed the way you are… I don't understand it, but it's driving me mad."

His arms slipped around Malfoy's waist and pulled him closer, surprised at the lack of resistance.

"You want me all the time?"

"All the fucking time," Harry admitted and kissed him again. Then he drew back. "Wait, the Veritaserum is affecting you, too! You've ingested it."

Malfoy scowled and hissed, "Yes."

Harry grinned. "You want me, too?"

Malfoy tensed. "Yes."

"How long?"

Malfoy shut his eyes and sagged forward. "Years," he whispered.

Harry swallowed hard, realizing they had foolishly wasted quite a lot of time. "Any idea how we should remedy that?"

"You could let me fuck you right here in this Muggle hotel room," Malfoy suggested and batted his dark-rimmed eyes. Harry suspected it was a ploy to verify Harry's claim of not wanting him because he looked like a girl.

"All right," Harry replied. He was only nervous until he saw the look in Malfoy's eyes, amazement quickly overrun by heat.

"All right?" Malfoy breathed.

Harry chuckled. "Yes." And then Malfoy's lips were on his greedily, kissing him with a passion he'd scarcely dreamed of.

Harry barely noticed when Malfoy walked him backwards, until his legs bumped the edge of the bed and he sat down hard, breaking the kiss. Malfoy smirked down at him, looking far less feminine, and somehow even sexier, with his pale lipstick smeared and his hair mussed from Harry's hands.

"Shall I leave the dress on?" Malfoy asked.

Harry shook his head. Malfoy shrugged and turned around to offer Harry his back with an expectant glance over his shoulder. Harry cleared his throat and sat up to grip the shiny silver tab of the zipper. He pulled it down slowly, exposing Malfoy's bare back bit by bit as the fabric opened. When it reached the end, giving Harry just a glimpse of bright blue lace and the white suspenders, Malfoy shimmied his hips and the silk slipped down and dropped to the floor.

The sight of Malfoy's arse clad in lacy blue knickers nearly did Harry in.

"You're a kinky pervert, Potter."

Harry ignored that and lifted both hands to squeeze the perfect globes of Malfoy's arse, slipping his fingers beneath the white straps that held the rear buckles onto the stockings. His cheeks were firm and fit Harry's palms nicely. He leaned forward to press a kiss against the small of Malfoy's back.

Malfoy turned around and pushed Harry roughly back against the bed before straddling him, climbing onto the bed and seating himself upon Harry's abdomen. Harry gazed at him with leisurely pleasure, admiring Malfoy's bare torso, pale nipples, and sharply outlined cock mostly hidden beneath blue silk.

"Are you sure about this, Potter?"

"I trust you," Harry said simply, warmed anew by Malfoy offering him the opportunity to back out.

Malfoy groaned. "Such a Gryffindor," he muttered and then tugged at Harry's shirt, yanking it free from the waistband of his trousers, rising a bit before settling back down atop Harry with much more skin between them. Harry could feel the warmth of Malfoy's arse, just brushing the tip of his hard cock, still trapped by the cloth of his trousers. Malfoy's bare thighs felt hot against his sides.

"Always," Harry replied with a laugh and wrapped his hands around Malfoy's hips as Malfoy began to unbutton his shirt, starting at the bottom and working his way upwards. Harry's expression turned serious. "I like working with you." The Veritaserum gave his words extra weight. He wanted to ask how Malfoy felt, wanted to make sure this thing between them wouldn't destroy everything, but he stilled his tongue, unwilling to take advantage of the potion.

"Definitely a Gryffindor. Don't worry, Potter, I don't have any intention of filing a complaint or ruining our partnership, unless—"

Malfoy stopped with a grimace and Harry prodded, "…unless?"

"Well, I wanted to say 'unless you were shite in bed', but the potion wouldn't let me lie, even in jest. Fucking thing."

Harry grinned and then gasped as Malfoy finished with the buttons and flung his shirt open before splaying his hands over Harry's chest. "Well, I'll do my best anyway." He tucked his fingers into the lace of Malfoy's knickers and tugged until the head of Malfoy's cock popped free.

"Have you ever been with a man before, Potter?" Malfoy asked.

"Not fair, Malfoy. And no." For effect, he snapped the elastic on one of the suspenders.

"Good." Malfoy climbed off him, but only to unfasten Harry's trousers and pull them off, along with his pants. Harry's cock was hard and straight, bobbing when Malfoy cocked his head to examine it.

"Better than Bulgar's, you think?" Harry couldn't resist asking.

"Much better," Malfoy said with a smirk.

Harry had a hard time keeping his eyes off Malfoy's cock, still covered by the blue silk except for the crown, which was red and glistened at the tip. Harry wanted to touch it, and lick it, and do all manner of things with it.

"You seem fascinated with mine. Shall I introduce you?" Malfoy moved forward again, this time perching next to Harry's head to give him a better view.

Harry lifted himself up and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the head of Malfoy's cock, tasting the precome there and feeling smug at the sound of Malfoy's gasp. A hand curled into Harry's hair. "Pleased to meet you," Harry said and then took it deeper, pushing the panties down with his tongue.

"Fuck, Potter."

Harry hummed against the flesh in his mouth and then sucked lightly. It wasn't a bad thing at all, really. In fact, Harry thought he could get used to sucking Malfoy's cock rather quickly. He used one hand to drag the material aside and take Malfoy deeper.

Malfoy made a sound and then fucked in and out of Harry's mouth, slowly and taking care not to go to deep, even when Harry shifted forward, trying to take it all.

"Ungh, Potter, stop or you'll ruin the main event," Malfoy said and pulled away. His cock was wet and jutted from between the garter belt and the panties, looking incongruous and completely sexy.

Malfoy moved again, leaving the bed to retrieve the handbag before settling himself between Harry's legs.

"Planning to powder your nose?" Harry asked in amusement when Malfoy opened the purse.

Malfoy retrieved the lipstick. "Lubricant," he explained before removing the cap and twisting to reveal a slender pink spear.

"You're going to use lipstick as lube?"

"Unless you have something better?"

Harry didn't. He had never expected to end up on his back in the Brussels hotel room.

"Besides, it's moisturizing. I'm not sure if Veritaserum has ever been administered anally…"

"It has," Harry admitted, having read it in a training manual somewhere. He wasn't entirely comfortable about prolonging the effects of the truth potion, but that quickly became the least of his concerns when Malfoy bent down and drew a circle around his anus with the lipstick. "That feels so weird," he admitted.

Malfoy chuckled wickedly and then Harry felt pressure of Malfoy's finger before it pushed inside. He winced. It felt intrusive and strange, but he forced himself to relax.

"Slick enough?" Malfoy asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied and then groaned and twisted when Malfoy added another finger.

"The colour suits you," Malfoy said.

Despite the near-pain, Harry laughed. Strangely, it helped, especially when his amusement was reflected on Malfoy's face. The fingers moved inside of him, twisting and curling until Harry was fully relaxed and ready for another.

Malfoy was patient with the process, stretching and preparing him until Harry felt like a bundle of languid nerves, waiting for something more. Malfoy's fingers finally retreated, leaving Harry aching and ready.

Malfoy broke off the lipstick and crushed it in his fingers before slicking it over his cock. It glistened with a pale shimmer and Harry laughed. "We should write them a letter. Perhaps they'll add this particular use to the label."

Malfoy snorted and then lined up his cock with Harry's entrance and pushed. It wasn't pleasant, but Harry rode it out, assisted by Malfoy bending down and kissing him until he could hardly breathe. It got easier, and then even easier when Malfoy started to move. Malfoy's hands were everywhere, touching and caressing, and finally moving to Harry's cock. It had gone flaccid with his trepidation, but quickly recovered under the onslaught of Malfoy's judicious stroking.

Delightful tingles replaced Harry's discomfort with each movement Malfoy made. Harry watched as Malfoy fucked him, looking more gorgeous that ever as he hovered over Harry and concentrated intently with each motion, lips parted and barely a shimmer left there, the traces of lipstick wiped away by Harry's kisses.

Harry lifted his hips helpfully and gasped when Malfoy grazed over something inside.

"There it is," Malfoy muttered and then his mouth curved in a calculating smile. He touched the spot several more times with each upstroke and Harry had to close his eyes in order to fully assimilate it. He lifted his hips in time with Malfoy as they moved faster and more frantically, each panting with exertion.

Malfoy's name spilled from Harry's lips as he came, his own fingers assisting Malfoy in wanking him off, wet and slick with his release. His orgasm must have triggered Malfoy's, because he jerked over Harry with a soft grunt and huffs of air breathed against his face. He thrust several more times and then collapsed over Harry, hot and glistening with sweat.

Malfoy said nothing and Harry's arms wrapped around him, holding him in place for long minutes, until their sweat had cooled and Harry's fingers raked through Malfoy's hair, massaging his scalp in a gentle caress.

"I should have known you would be good at cuddling," Malfoy murmured against his neck.

"I should have known you would be good at fucking," Harry returned.

Malfoy chuckled. "Yes, you should have."

"I wish I had tested the theory earlier."

"Perhaps we weren't ready."

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe you're right. What should we do now?"

"Shower and then more fucking?"

"I thought you wanted to leave Brussels."

"That was before."

"Aren't we out of lipstick lubricant?"

"Good point. I suppose we should go back."

"You could always come to my place," Harry suggested. "I don't have any lipstick, but the cinnamon massage oil might be a better choice, anyway."

"For once I like the way you think, Potter."

Harry held him more tightly and made a note to send an anonymous gift of champagne to Bulgar's room. Bulgar had lost his blond only to help Harry find his.