DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all other characters and locations belong to J. K. Rowling.

Harry Potter and the Boxer Bandit

The narrow wooden drawer was empty. Completely empty. Not a single pair of tighty whities or boxers to be found; even the silver thong Ginny had given him as a gag gift last year for Christmas had vanished. Eyes widening in disbelief, Harry tentatively reached into the compartment and ran his fingers along the pale wood. He jumped slightly as his nails scraped the bottom, the sound drawing him from his stupor. Shaking his head, he drew back slowly and glanced over his shoulder. His emerald orbs narrowed, suspicion creeping through him. Gritting his teeth, he twisted back around and shoved the drawer closed, privately taking pleasure in the loud crack that filled the chamber.

'Alright, give them back.' He snarled, wheeling around and planting his hands on his towel clad hips. A shiver racked him, goose bumps rising along his arms and legs as he waited for one of his dorm mates to answer. Crossing his arms to ward off the chill, he began to tap one bare foot in an irritated manner.

Rolling over in his four poster, Ron shot him an aggravated look and yawned widely. 'Give what back, mate?'

'My boxers!' Harry roared, yanking the empty drawer out of the dresser and waving it at the room.

Mouth closing with a loud snap, the redhead stared at Harry with a disbelieving look. 'Mate, I don't have your boxers,' he said slowly, as if he was explaining something to a small child.

'Well, they're not here.' The dark-haired wizard snarled, dropping the empty drawer to the floor and giving it a hard kick. His satisfaction in watching the wood slide across the floor and crash into the wall was dulled only by the pain growing in his toes. 'I want my underwear back.' He hissed loudly.

'What's going on?' Dean mumbled, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

'Someone stole Harry's underwear,' Ron explained.

'No way!' Seamus exclaimed from behind his curtains. With wide eyes and a smirk of disbelief, the Irish wizard appeared in a gap between the garish red panels. 'All of them?'

'Yes, all of them.' Harry said, frustration creeping into his voice. Still not quite believing that the redhead didn't have his underwear, he began to carefully examine the rest of his drawers. He was desperately unrolling his fourth pair of socks in search of . . . something, when a thought occurred to him. Straightening slowly, he turned to face the four wizards who were watching him avidly. 'Have any of you checked to make sure all of your boxers haven't disappeared?'

Exchanging suddenly worried glances, the four wizards scrambled from beneath their blankets and lurched toward their personal wardrobes. The scrape and thud of drawers being desperately opened and closed filled the room, the sound heralding four anguished cries. Silence settled upon the round room as the four wizards stared into their empty underwear drawers, their mouths hanging open in shock.

Feeling slightly better about the entire situation, Harry hitched his towel up and sat down on the edge of his bed. 'It's not so funny now, is it?' He asked imperiously, folding his arms in an attempt to ward off the chill that was creeping up his spine.

'But where did they go?' Dean asked dumbly, closing the drawer which was supposed to hold his underwear and then jerking it open again. His face fell at finding the drawer still empty, as if he'd been expecting his boxers to magically reappear, which was actually possible.

Snapping out of his stupor, Ron slammed his drawer closed and spun around. 'Hermione,' he gasped, 'she'll know what to do.' Without thinking any further than that, the redhead raced from the room.

'Hermione!' Ron bellowed as he thundered down the stairs into the Gryffindor Common Room. He halted upon the bottom step, sweeping the room with panicked eyes. In his pajama clad state, he drew the attention of the entire chamber; many students stopping what they were doing just to stare.

The witch in question sighed heavily, not bothering to lift her narrowed orbs from the page of the book she was currently reading. 'Here, Ron.' She called, flipping to the next page.

Relief was evident in the expression on the redhead's face as he charged toward the bushy-haired witch, coming to a halt at her crossed feet. 'You have to help me, Hermione.' The wizard cried, hands sliding through his hair in an agitated manner. Shooting his snickering younger sister an angered glare, he returned his attention to his girlfriend. 'All of my underwear are missing!'

The entire Gryffindor Common Room burst into laughter at the blurted announcement. Jokes and jeers began to fill the chamber as everyone took exception to the redhead's statement. The sound of someone else descending the stairs turned several heads, those first few immediately snapping their mouths closed and dropping their gazes. For there, standing on the second last stair, was a very angry Harry Potter. Complete silence was almost instantaneous. Giving the room at large an annoyed look, the raven-haired wizard descended the final two steps.

'Harry, give Ron back his boxers.' Hermione ordered, her gaze never leaving the page of her book.

'I can't,' growled the raven-haired wizard. There was a suspicious gleam in his emerald eyes, the narrowed orbs leaping from Gryffindor to Gryffindor as he quietly walked further into the room. Halting just behind Ron, he adjusted his towel and then proceeded to glare at the witch.

'Nonsense, Harry. The sooner you give Ron back his undergarments, the sooner we can go down to breakfast.' Hermione murmured, chewing her bottom lip as she reread a line. Shaking her head, she turned the page.

Letting out a frustrated hiss, Harry threw his arms up and whirled around. 'I can't give them back because I don't have them!' He spat.

'Well they didn't just up and walk away of their own accord.' Hermione murmured, closing her book and placing it on the small table next to her. The bushy-haired witch frowned and looked back and forth between the two, her expression becoming condescending as the seconds ticked by. Finally, after three minutes of silence, she rose and crossed her arms. 'Really, Harry, we're going to be late to breakfast.'

Gritting his teeth, the raven-haired wizard closed his eyes. 'For the last time, I do not have Ron's boxers. Not only do I not have Ron's boxers, but I don't have Seamus', Neville's, or Dean's for that matter. And while we're on the subject of missing apparel, I'll point out that I'm standing in the middle of the Common Room in a towel. Do you know why, Hermione, I'm standing in the middle of the Common Room practically naked?' He growled, opening his sparking emerald eyes and crossing his arms.

Hermione shot a desperate look at Ron, begging him with her eyes to distract the other wizard. When the redhead merely rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, she turned frightened orbs to Harry and gave an almost inaudible whimper. 'No,' she offered quietly, tensing in preparation for the explosion which was bound to occur after her response.

'Because all of my underwear are gone!' Harry roared. His tone brooked no argument, his stance growing more menacing with each passing second. Exhaling slowly, he took a deep calming breath and tipped his head to the side. 'And I'd really, really, like them back. Preferably right now.'

The occupants of the Gryffindor Common Room held their breath, their eyes desperately darting for some means of escape. Four third years shuffled toward the portrait, halting abruptly as Harry's head swivelled in their direction. A small group of first years huddled together in the far corner, silently praying that there truly was safety in numbers. Hushed whispers from the portraits hanging on the walls filled the silence, their excited chatter making the Gryffindors cringe.

Harry's eyes followed Hermione's to the clock sitting above the mantle, a devilish smirk curving his lips as the witch bent to pick up her book bag. Resettling his crossed arms over his chest, he sauntered toward the back of the Fat Lady's portrait and leaned against the wall beside her. 'Nobody's leaving until I get my underwear back,' he stated calmly.

'Harry, we'll be late for class,' the brown haired witch hissed in a scandalized voice. Her eyes widened when the dark-haired wizard shrugged his shoulders in indifference. Huffing in disbelief, she cast her gaze toward her boyfriend. 'Ron, surely you don't want to miss breakfast,' she wheedled, desperation creeping into her tone.

Biting his lip, the redhead shot a glance at the clock before sighing and moving to stand across from Harry. 'Sorry, Hermione,' he mumbled sheepishly, avoiding the witch's angered glare. 'They took my black silk boxers. You know, the ones with the little red hearts? Those are my favourite pair.'

'Really, Ron! I'm sure they're around here somewhere. Did you check under your bed?' Hermione asked, chancing another quick look at the clock. Her eyes dropped away from the ticking hand just in time to see the wizards shoot each other disbelieving looks and roll their eyes. 'Well . . . maybe the house elves have them.'

'Yeah, Hermione.' Harry snapped sarcastically, 'the house elves decided to do a routine cleaning of our room and were so offended by the state of our underwear that they threw them all out. Or, bear with me on this one 'cause it's a longshot, someone snuck into our dorm last night and stole all our underwear!'

Hermione gasped and planted her hands on her hips, the knapsack she held sliding down her arm to rest around her wrist. Around the Common Room, the gathered Gryffindors gaped and shrank back against each other, nervously awaiting the impending explosion. 'There's no need to yell, Harry!' The witch screeched, stomping forward so she should directly in front of him. 'Besides, you know nobody can get in here without the password.'

'Oh, right,' growled Harry, unfolding his arms and gesturing wildly. 'Because 'Gryffindor rules' would be the last thing that the Slytherins would guess.' Shaking his head in a bemused fashion, he propped himself back up against the wall and lifted a hand to examine his fingernails.

Puffing up, the brown-haired witch tossed her hair and waggled her head. 'It was the first years' turn to pick the password, you know that.' Jabbing a finger in the direction of the gold clock, Hermione widened her eyes and swung her bag back up onto her shoulder. 'You can stand around and point fingers all you want, but I'm going to class.'

Sighing, Harry straightened and dropped his hands to his hips, tightening his towel while smoothly drawing his wand. He twirled the length of wood between his fingers, enjoying the horrified look that crossed the witch's flushed face. 'I'm not going to repeat myself,' the dark-haired wizard purred.

Flinging her arms up, the bushy-haired witch whirled around and leveled an angry glare at the student's milling about the room. 'Alright, joke's over! Whoever took the sixth year guy's underwear, give it back.' Making a placating gesture with her left hand as numerous cries of outrage and denial rose up, she shot a quick glance over her shoulder. 'I'm sure Harry and Ron will wait down here while the rest of you go back upstairs and put the boxers back. Nobody needs to get hexed or cursed. We'll do this like intelligent young adults.'

When nobody moved, Harry stepped away from the wall and waved his wand at the crowd. 'No takers? That's okay, I've got all day.' Exchanging a nod with Ron, he folded his arms and peered at the clock, silently wondering how long it would take for Professor McGonagall to realize nearly her entire House was missing.


Thirty-three minutes, Harry thought, lowering his gaze from the clock to the frowning witch standing in the center of the Common Room. He dropped his hands to his hips and absently shifted the simple white towel he wore. That was actually pretty damn fast when one considered the fact that the Gryffindors didn't generally go to breakfast en masse. To be perceptive enough to realize almost her entire House was missing was excellent. She must have some sort of sixth sense. His internal monologue was halted when the old witch wheeled around and began to vigorously shake a finger at him.

'You don't hold your entire House hostage because someone stole your undergarments, Mister Potter.' Professor McGonagall stated, shaking her head wearily. 'You send someone to find me.'

'But Professor,' Ron burst out, waving a hand to draw the witch's attention to him. 'What are you going to do about our underwear? I have a test in Charms today and I really need my lucky boxers.'

'Mister Weasley, I highly doubt the presence of your . . . lucky boxers will help you succeed in passing today's exam. Only the proper preparations can do that.' Frowning, McGonagall turned her attention back to Harry. 'Until I get to the bottom of this, Harry, you and your dorm mates shall have to do without. Unless, of course, you'd like me to assist you in transfiguring yourselves several new pairs?'

Ignoring the muffled titters, Harry shook his head. 'No thank you, Professor. Tomorrow is a Hogsmeade weekend, we'll all just wait until then to get new underwear.' Besides, the thought of wearing underwear you handled is kind of stomach turning. Clamping his teeth together, he offered his Head of House a tight-lipped smile. 'Thank you for offering though.'

'All right, I suppose you'd all best get moving. You may tell your professors to speak to me concerning your tardiness.' Giving a final bob of her head, she turned and headed toward the exit, pausing with one hand on the back of the Fat Lady. 'Get moving,' she ordered. The portrait thudded closed behind her, leaving the Common Room in silence.

'Well, you heard the woman.' Hermione snapped, pushing past a silently fuming Harry and a pale faced Ron. 'I'll see the pair of you in Potions.' That said, the witch swept from the room, a line of Gryffindors scrambling in her wake.

'But . . . my boxers.' Ron mumbled, staring after his girlfriend. Transferring his wide eyes to Harry, he gave him a pleading look.

Avoiding the redhead's gaze, the raven-haired wizard rubbed the back of his neck. 'You did study, didn't you?' With a final sigh, he turned and headed back up to the dorm, his befuddled roommates trailing after him.



He was commando. Now, in the right pair of pants, commando was good, maybe even great. Hell, sometimes it was downright sexy. However, the individual who had designed the Hogwarts uniform had obviously not taken that into consideration. The cloth was scratchy and the seam . . . well, uncomfortable was putting it lightly.

Harry discreetly fell behind the pack of Gryffindors, his fingers itching to pull the line of cloth from between his arse cheeks. For the last twenty minutes of Potions, he'd had the worst wedgie ever. Gritting his teeth, he hobbled along behind the group, an extremely pained expression on his face. As soon as Ron and Hermione turned a corner, he heaved a sigh of relief and immediately began to tug at his pants. Seconds after that, a cool hand closed around his wrist and yanked him into a conveniently located alcove.

'How'd you do it?' Harry gasped, whirling around as a pair of arms encircled his waist.

'Do what?' Draco asked innocently.

'Sneak into my dorm room and steal all my underwear,' the raven-haired wizard hissed, attempting to wiggle away from the blond's questing fingers.

'Oh please, Potter. "Gryffindor rules?" Even we Slytherins aren't that crass.' The blond drawled. His hands slid down over Harry's waist and around his hips, fingers tauntingly massaging. 'Besides, isn't this so much better?'

'Are you kidding me?' Harry whimpered, tilting his head back as the blond began to trail light kisses along his cheek. He bit back a moan of delight as the Slytherin's hands slipped around to the front of his trousers, the pale digits trailing over the obvious bulge that was quickly forming there. 'Do you have any idea how uncomfortable I've been?' His zipper slid down with a hiss, the sound nearly causing his eyes to cross.

'See, so much more convenient.' Draco breathed, cools fingers closing over Harry's hard length. He chuckled softly as the Gryffindor groaned something unintelligible and pushed against him, urging him on. He pressed his face into the side of the other wizard's neck and blew softly, his fingers tugging teasingly. Nibbling the exposed line of throat delicately, he tightened his grip. Chancing a quick look into the hall behind him, he sank his fingers into Harry's hair and dragged his head up. 'Well? Do you concur?' He breathed, loosening his grip on the other wizard's shaft. His lips curved in a smirk as Harry groaned and let his head thunk back against the stone wall, the air leaving his lungs in hot gusts.

'I still want my boxers back,' He mumbled, closing his eyes till they were merely narrow slits of jade. Turning his head, he ran his tongue up the side of the blond's neck. A tremor ran through him as the Slytherin shuddered, his fingers delicately rasping the sensitive skin over his abdomen. 'Out of morbid curiousity, why did you take everyone in my dorms underwear?'

Draco snorted, and then moaned as Harry's fingers traced a random pattern over his stomach. Curling his fingers into the Gryffindor's dark locks, he pulled him closer. 'That too, was merely an act of convenience. Call me an opportunistic bastard if you must, but the chance to watch the Weasel squirm all day was just too good to pass up.'

'Well, Ron really wants his black silk boxers back . . . the ones with the little red hearts.'

'Then he'll have to ask Greg,' Draco stated calmly. Pulling away from Harry, he straightened and ran his hands down the front of his robes, brushing creases from the cloth. In a similar manner, he ran his fingers through his hair, resettling the pale locks carelessly.

'Greg?' Harry asked in a bewildered tone, absently shoving himself back into his trousers.

'You didn't seriously believe I'd touch the Weasel's underwear, did you?' Giving a disgusted shake of his head, the blond swung around. 'If we hurry, we can fit a quick shag in before Charms.'

Smirking in appreciation of the blond's brilliant mind, Harry trailed after his boxer bandit.

A/n: Inspired by the thong I thought I'd lost until I found it tucked under my dresser. The culprit . . . one of my ferrets. Thanks for reading, as always.