sassy_cissa (sassy_cissa) wrote in slythindor100, @ 2006-04-17 19:39:00 |
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Original poster: physixxx
Title: Something Borrowed Author: physixxx Pairing: H/D of course Characters: Harry, Draco, Champagne, a big, black queen, a catty mirror image, and a whole lotta make-up! Rating: PG, I guess. Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. JK has that privelege. Word Count: 1112 Made for: slythindor100's Monday Drabble. Continued from makeshiftdraco's Someting New Sorry so late, guys! “What in Salazar’s name is that monstrosity?!” Draco screamed. Draco sat I Champagne, still perfectly glammed out, stared at Draco with confusion colouring her glittered face. “Why, uhm... darling... that’s you.” “Lies and subterfuge!” Draco hollered. That bint," he stood and pointed at his reflection, “is hideous! I, on the other hand,” he waved his hand over his body in a singularly grand manner, “am beautiful.” “Well,” Champagne admitted, trying to add more eye shadow on Draco, “Pretty wizards rarely make pretty witches.” “Make me cute, damn you!” “Honey, I’m a drag queen not a magician...” Champagne stopped adding make-up. Realising that, yes indeed she was a magician, of sorts, she shook her head and added, “Well, it wouldn’t be fair to use a glamour on you, you know? It’s cheating. Like... post-ops.” “Oh, spare me your 'boy-in-a-dress' ethics! I will not be made a fool of! I’m Draco Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake!! I demand justice!!” he yelled, standing tall and stomping a foot. “I demand retribution! That beast is abhorrent!!” He pointed at his mirrored image, again. The Draco-in-the-mirror crossed his...er, her arms with a pout. “You’re no Eva Gabor, either, honey.” Draco gasped in abject horror, clutching at his chest as if stabbed. “You’re barely even...” The Draco-in-the-mirror looked around, as if trying to find something. “Kathy Bates!” Draco drew his wand. “I don’t even know who 'Kathy Bates' is but I wager it’s an insult...” “She’s actually a very good actress,” Champagne pointed out, her voice ignored by the two pending combatants. “You’re walking proof,” the mirrored image continued. “That pretty boys don’t make pretty girls.” “Why, I ought to—!” A hex was on the tip of Draco’s tongue. He didn’t really know if the snide remark was a slag-off or a compliment. Regardless, he hardly liked it. Champagne forced Draco back down in the seat, bodily. “Oh, bother it all, Draco! Just... sit down. I’ll try and ... soften you a bit.” Draco’s pouted, his eyes darting around the room. He sat silent, save for the tapping of make-up products as it hit the tray or the gentle brushing of blush and foundation along sharply angled cheekbones or the exasperated ‘hrmf’ of Champagne, who grew more and more frustrated as time went by. Champagne held a napkin to Draco’s mouth and said, “Open.” He did. She slid the napkin between his lips. “Close...” Draco closed his mouth on the napkin and then released it, leaving an imprint of his painted lips on the now-discarded nappy. Champagne continued brushing a secondary colour along Draco’s cheeks. “Bollocks! Does your face ever soften!?” “What do you mean?” “You’re so.... pointy! I’m trying to round it out.” “I am not ‘pointy’,” Draco said, with a rather elementary indignant expression. “I’m angular. There’s a difference.” Draco seemed ponderous even as Champagne worked on his eyes. “Well,” he exhaled. “I guess I shouldn’t feel all that bad. My outfit is hot, at least. Catholic schoolgirl, you say? The pigtails are a nice touch. But poor Harry... if I look like this, that poor bloke hasn’t got a chance.” As if by cue, the door to the dressing room opened. A tall, black drag queen – who looked more like an American Football linebacker in a wig – burst through, eyes blazing with giddy and glee. “Ooooh, bitches,” he called. “Harry Potter is soooOOoooh—” Draco straightened in his seat, a forlorn look on his face. “Oh, the poor boy,” he said, seriously concerned and prepared to provide Harry with all sorts of lies like ‘no you look great’ and ‘no, that dress doesn’t make you look fat’ and even ‘if I were straight, I’d bugger you all but good’. “No, you see—” the other drag queen tried. “Now, now, now,” Champagne admonished. “You remember the rules: No making fun of crowd participants.” “No, no, no... You don’t understand—” Draco’s face grew dark. “Oh, no. I understand, perfectly! You intend on making a fun of my lover just because he’s not as glorious a woman as he is a man.” “No, no... See here! You’re missing the—” “Oh, no!” Draco exclaimed, ready to pounce on the big queen, regardless of her size (at least two Dracos, for certain). His brows furrowed. Champagne couldn’t help but scowl. “Don’t grimmace, girl,” Champagne advised, shaking her head lightly and pursing her lips. “It doesn’t help the face.” Draco turned his reprimanding lour to Champagne. “Now you see here, Miss Thang! I’ll—” “... Draco ...?” The sound of Harry’s voice brought the room to a dead silence. In fact, if you looked closely, you could probably see a cricket chasing a tumbleweed. Draco’s eyes shot up to the door, his eyebrows disappeared in the fringe of his jet black wig’s bangs. Champagne squirmed, awaiting the worst. The big drag queen merely smirked, and stepped to the side, allowing Harry to walk in the room. At least, it might have been Harry. His wore a leather black and white French-maid outfit. With the exception of the short frilly sleeves, the kit was skin-tight, hugging all the right parts in all the right ways. The small patch of hair that normally adorned the dip in his chest was replaced by dark blush, coloured in a manner to help reinforce the illusion of a cleavage. Harry's exposed shoulders seemed rounded, too; not sharp and jagged as usual. His rounded face was made angular, but in a way that made him seem more... feral and still feminine. The glasses were gone and the eye shadow, a deep shade of sanguine red brought out the brilliance of his emerald green eyes. Even the white, lace meshed gloves made his hands look dainty and girlish. His hair, tied up in a top-tail with ringlets that fell loosely over his frill headdress, fell dangerously into his eyes. The thigh-high fishnet hosieries -- ruffled high along the legs -- accentuated his freshly shaven, smooth legs. Even his arms, normally a forest of hair, were as smooth as a twelve-year old girl’s. Jet black high heels made arches of his feet that seemed both painful and alluring at the same time. A heart-shaped, satin silk apron hung over his hips, which appeared more full than before; the pleaded furbelow barely covered his bits and pieces. Draco’s mouth dropped. Champagne’s mouth followed. Harry stood there, knock-kneed and slightly hunched over, wringing the feathered duster in his hand, nervously. He bit his lip until the big queen swatted at him. “Ah-ah-ah!” he warned. “You’ll mess up your lipstick.” He bowed his head, eyes still darting around the room. Even through the foundation, you could see a hint of blush pepper across his cheeks and nose. And still, the room was silent. “...I look horrible...” It was barely a whisper. He began to turn and leave when he heard Draco’s choked admission, even softer than Harry’s. “No... You—you’re... ...beautiful.” The gentle ripping sound of tape pulling from skin could be heard. Harry looked inquisitively around the room. “What was that sound?” Now, it was Champagne and Draco’s turn to blush. • |