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Harry Potter had never owned nice clothes. Hell, he'd never even owned clothes that were bought specifically for him, that were only ever worn by him, that actually fit him. He only ever had Dudley's ratty, oversized hand-me-downs. And that didn't really bother him, not until he got to Hogwarts.
See, Harry was literally never let out of the house when he was growing up, so he didn't have to be seen in Dudley's tattered clothes, and nor did he see how much nicer everyone else's clothes were, and how much better everyone else's families treated them. But then Harry went to Hogwarts, and he realised a lot of things.
For starters, it was really nice to wear his own uniform for once. It was the first time he'd really had his own clothes, and it was just a uniform. And he had a lot of money he wasn't sure how to use, which was also inconvenient because he couldn't use Galleons and Sickles in the muggle world, so he couldn't really buy himself anything.
And nor could he just casually go to Diagon Alley during school break.
So he had a uniform of his own, and that was it. In terms of clothing at least.
And again, it had never really bothered him until he started seeing Hogwarts students not in uniform, wearing their own clothes. And what Harry noticed was that everyone had nice clothes, in good condition, fitting them well, and only oversized if that was their preference. And if they had hand-me-downs too, they wouldn't be as worn-out as Harry's.
Hell, even Ron had better hand-me-downs, and his clothes had gone through several kids before they got to him.
People noticed that Harry's clothes looked old and way too big for him, but no one really questioned it. He was a famous, role model to all the students, so they just accepted his style as trendy and desirable, simply because it was Harry's. No one shamed him, but he still felt ashamed by it.
One person who always looked good was Draco Malfoy.
Draco was a pureblood, a rich boy, someone with a reputation to uphold, so of course he looked good whenever he was out of uniform. Hell, even in uniform he made sure he looked pristine. But in his own clothes, particularly as he grew up, grew taller, and matured, he looked extra good, especially in the dark suits he wore.
He walked around the castle looking regal, elegant. With the way he walked, and the way he dressed, he practically embodied the word rich, the word classy. And sometimes, on the rare occasion when he wore muggle-style clothes, he still looked good. Some could say he looked even better than when he wore his suits.
Draco tried a lot to look good, and yet he could still look good without trying. And Harry was jealous, just a little bit. He wanted to be proud of how he dressed. He wanted clothes that fit, that weren't falling apart.
And then, during sixth year, like a wish come true, clothes started appearing in his dorm.
Hogwarts was letting students out for a Hogsmeade trip, which meant everyone was wearing their own, nice clothes, to go buy themselves some nice things. And Harry had ran away from everyone, including Ron and Hermione, and hid in the boys' bathroom.
He thought he was alone, which is why he started ranting to himself.
He stood, staring at his reflection, and picked out every imperfection in his clothes. They'd been worn so many times, the material was becoming flimsy, and he was sure there'd be holes and tears soon. And then people would really have something to say about his clothes. Something to finally point out and demean him for.
After having so many people against him in fourth and fifth year, he wasn't sure he could take another year of criticism.
The flannel shirt he was wearing was only recently beginning to properly fit him, which was so crazy to him. He'd been wearing it for so long, and now it was starting to fit. And only because he was growing taller- because Harry was still skinny, just not as malnourished-skinny as he was before Hogwarts, and as he'd be during every summer break.
Harry sat down on the floor and stared at his shoes. They were starting to fray, and so were the bottom of his baggy jeans. It was a miracle both his shoes and jeans even fit in the first place, so the fact that both were really beginning to wear down meant he was going to have yet another imperfection for people to notice.
His shoes were beginning to form holes on the back of the heels, from the inside, and the soles were beginning to fall off. It would last only so long before the holes cut through to the outside of the shoes, and the soles would peel off.
"Great clothes, am I right?" He muttered to himself. "So new, in such pristine condition. Hey, everyone, let's be jealous of The Boy Who Lived, who survived the killing curse but can't even wear nice clothes. Such a spoilt kid, right? So spoilt none of his clothes have ever been his first, or in good condition for being given to him. Such a spoilt kid."
Harry laughed self-deprecatingly, playing with the edges of his laces.
"So spoilt, he doesn't even properly fit into the same hand-me-down shirt that he's had for over six years. Six. Must be such a spoilt kid, right? What a lucky guy. So spoilt, he's always wearing the same damn clothes with just a little variation. No, this can't be due to his minimal selection. No, he must just like his clothes so much. Not technically his clothes, though."
Harry sighed, leaning against the wall behind him.
"It's not fair, is it? Everyone wants to be me, but is my life all that? I almost die like every damn year, and I have no parents, no family. The 'family' I have don't even want me. They act like I'm a waste of space, like I'm some invalid they'd been forced to take care of. And I do so much around the house, and they can't even give me some nice clothes to wear."
One of the buttons on his shirt conveniently fell off, and he just laughed again, banging his head against the wall behind him.
"I just want something to wear that I don't need to be ashamed of, for once in my goddamn life. Hell, I'd even take more hand-me-downs if I could just fit into them for once, and if they weren't already falling apart beforehand. But I can't ask Ron for clothes- he's already got a limited amount. And Hermione would share, but I'm not gonna fit into women's clothing."
And then he laughed again, a little less sanely.
"Actually, I probably would. Fucking Dursleys think I don't even need to eat, right? I'll fit into her clothes after summer break, cause I always come back here looking like a damn twig. And no one notices, because of course, this is just Harry Potter style. Being abnormally skinny and wearing worn-down clothes. Why question the Saviour, right?"
Harry was sure if he kept ranting, maybe he'd cry. So it was a blessing when he heard Ron call out for him, giving him a reason to stand up, brush off his second-hand clothes, and leave the 'empty' bathroom.
But what he didn't realise was Draco had been in there the whole time, in the furthest stall, hiding away from the rest of the world too. He'd been so overwhelmed with the task, and he couldn't stand to be around people anymore, not with the guilt and fear eating him alive. And he'd been praying for something to distract him.
Harry accidentally ranting to him was like a wish come true.
Draco, for once, felt bad for Harry. He'd been one of those people who called him spoilt, assuming things about him. And now he knew that Harry wasn't treated like a prince, wasn't in any way spoilt, and was ashamed of how he dressed, just like his 'family' seemed to be ashamed of him.
Draco had a lot of clothes. His parents weren't the greatest at verbally expressing affection, so they'd show it through spoiling Draco. And a lot of their money went towards clothes for him, clothes that he wouldn't even wear. He had so many muggle-style clothes, all fancy and expensive, just sitting in a pile in his cupboard at home.
He'd never thought too much of it, but now he felt bad for Harry. He felt bad for not being grateful for what he had, even if life was at its worst right now. So he dragged himself out of the bathroom and made his way to his dorm, writing up an owl to his mother, asking her to send him all of the muggle-style clothes he left to collect dust in his cupboard.
Narcissa sent the clothes without any questions, arriving the next day. And now Draco had something to channel his time and attention into that wouldn't eat him alive.
A lot of the clothes were brand new, which he thought would scare Harry off at first. So the first thing Draco left for him was an emerald-green shirt, and it'd be a little big on Harry, but not drastically big like the clothes his cousin had worn first.
Draco had only worn it a few times, so it was a little worn, but still in pretty good condition. The way he would've preferred to wear the shirt on it's own - no blazer - with the sleeves rolled up, top button undone, but he couldn't do that anymore, with the Dark Mark on his wrist, so he had to give the shirt away, right?
He wasn't sure how to make this little secret mission work, until one night, when he'd snuck out to just fly at night when it was isolated and serene, and he saw Harry doing the same thing, coming out from his dorm's window.
Draco flew back to his room quickly, grabbing the shirt, and flew over to the open window. All the other boys were asleep, thank god, and so he carefully placed the folded green shirt down on the end of Harry's empty bed, and flew away just before Harry returned.
He hid on his broom, beneath the window, and heard Harry seem to be confused and a little wary. But there weren't any complaints from him, at least audibly, and Draco deemed it a successful mission. And a week later, when Harry finally wore the shirt, like he'd spent time trying to figure out if it was meant for him before he did, Draco was incredibly happy.
And Harry looked happy too, wearing the shirt in exactly the way Draco would've, with the sleeves rolled up, the top few buttons undone.
At first, Harry was beyond confused. A nice, rich-quality shirt ending up in his bed? He'd asked all the Gryffindors if it was theirs, and they'd all told him it wasn't. He gave up trying to figure out whose it was, and tried it on, just because he was curious. And it was the nicest he'd felt in clothes in a long time.
The fabric was soft, and not at all scratchy. Whilst it was a little big on him, it was still clear that the shirt was relatively new, or at least it hadn't been worn that often. But what stood out to him most was the scent, the faint scent of cologne, and the faint scent of citrus and sandalwood. It smelled nice, and a little expensive.
Harry kinda liked it.
Ron and Hermione had asked him wear he got the shirt from when he first wore it, and Harry just smiled and shrugged, telling them he wasn't sure, but he wasn't complaining. They teased him for having a secret admirer, or a fan who wanted to give him gifts, and Harry just accepted the teasing with the green shirt wrapped around his body like a hug.
Draco heard the whole conversation, and felt a sense of pride knowing Harry was happy.
So the mission was not done yet. It had only just begun.
Draco noticed that Harry seemed to have a nightly routine. He would sneak off to fly alone when everyone else in his dorm was asleep, every Friday night. And Draco would use that opportunity to leave him some clothes, one by one, then a few at a time, until he was running out of his worn clothes to give.
Every Saturday, Harry would come into the Great Hall to eat, wearing Draco's gifted clothes, never able to identify who'd given them to him, but happy to wear them anyway. And as the term went by, Harry got healthier in terms of eating consistently, so he fit into the clothes a little better over time.
Draco couldn't forget what Harry had said about the Dursleys not wanting him to eat.
One item of clothing that Harry tended to wear often, was Draco's green hoodie. It was a little oversized, fluffy on the inside, and seemingly Harry's favourite hoodie. He wore it a lot, and he overheard Harry talking to Ron about how whatever scent was originally there was now fading away, and he was almost disappointed.
Draco blushed, grateful no one was there to see, and realised that Harry didn't just like the clothes for the fact that they were nice, but because of his scent. Draco had tried to make sure they didn't smell like him at all, to make sure Harry wouldn't figure out he was giving the clothes, but if Harry liked the scent..
Then Draco would happily leave his cologne lingering on the clothes before he dropped them off.
He thought Harry would be happier by the time Draco finally started leaving new, completely unworn clothes in his dorm. But Harry must've been a creature of habit, wearing the older, more worn clothes more than the new ones. He did wear the new ones every now and then, like every Saturday once they'd been recently given, but the older ones he seemed to prefer.
When Draco realised Harry's shoes were still falling apart, he had to be stealthy and sneak into Harry's dorm to find his shoes, and therefore his shoe size. Draco was a half shoe-size bigger than Harry, but even so, he decided to just buy Harry some new shoes.
The first pair he left was one of his own, definitely never worn before. He was sure he'd worn it once, and then never worn them again. So he left the black shoes at the foot of Harry's bed, and then disappeared, going to his room to ask his mother to buy him a bunch of shoes a half-size down, for no apparent reason, and send them to him.
And again, Narcissa didn't question it, just doing as Draco asked. And so for the next few weeks, Draco left the newer clothes and new clothes, one of each per week, in Harry's room, and felt that pride when he saw Harry walking around with more and more confidence each week.
Draco had originally began the secret mission with the intention of distracting himself from the task he had to do, but he started to slowly realise he didn't care so much about himself anymore, but how it affected Harry. He liked seeing Harry happy, more proud of himself, more comfortable in the clothes he wore.
He found a gold chain in his room, a chain he never wore because he preferred the way silver looked on his skin tone. And Harry had a darker complexion, which would look good with gold jewellery. And so, he left the chain in Harry's bed, because if he wasn't gonna wear it, someone else had to.
Draco felt butterflies in his stomach when he saw Harry wear the gold chain beneath his shirt, the shirt that Draco let him wear home.
When Christmas break came around, Draco realised he was falling for Harry, and he couldn't believe it.
Harry was in love.
He couldn't believe it, but he'd fallen in love with someone he didn't even know. It was just the selfless act of giving him things, old but good-condition clothes and shoes, and then new clothes and shoes. He fell in love with the scent that lingered on the clothes when they were first given, and craved it again when it began to fade away.
What really did it for him was the gold chain. He wasn't materialistic in any sense of the word, but it was just the fact that it felt so important. Hermione had tested it to see if it was real, and it was, and Harry felt warm and giddy inside. Someone gave him real gold, just for the sake of it, and he never took the chain off after that.
When he went home for Christmas, he didn't bring all his new clothes with him, not wanting to give the Dursleys a reason to demean him for it. Hell, they'd probably take his gifted clothes and give them to Dudley, and Harry would absolutely hate them for it.
The chain, too, he reluctantly had to take off. There was no way the Dursleys were gonna take the most valuable thing he'd ever been given away from him.
He spent the whole break wondering who the mystery person could be. They had a routine, that whenever Harry snuck out, they would sneak in, leaving the gifts behind without so much as a note. It showed to him just how selfless the act was, how they didn't want recognition, or even a thank you for it.
They just wanted to see Harry happy.
Naturally, Harry sort-of fell in love.
He couldn't wait to go back to Hogwarts just so he could wear the clothes, the chain, the shoes, and finally catch whoever was gifting him so he could give them the thank you they deserved. And also because the Dursleys were still unbearable, and Hogwarts was more of a home to him than Privet Drive would ever be.
Draco needed an out.
Christmas break was unbearable for him, with Voldemort and his Death Eaters taking over his home. He never felt safe there anymore, constantly pressured into completing the task. It was over those cold weeks where he realised he was in real danger if he failed, and so were his parents.
That pressure was back, and he wanted his favourite distraction again. But the distraction would be pointless, because nevertheless, he still had a task to complete, even though he really didn't want to.
He returned to Hogwarts with a spare bottle of his favourite cologne, and left it in Harry's room, and that was the last gift he had to give. Because now he really did have to focus on the task, and he couldn't fathom the consequence if he failed.
And it hurt. He missed his weekly trip to Harry's room, the rush of sneaking in and hoping he wouldn't get caught. He missed going to the Great Hall on Saturday and seeing Harry wearing his gifts, a bright smile on his face. And worst of all, he was still falling for Harry, and he didn't know what to do about it.
The secret mission was over, and yet Draco felt incomplete.
Harry was going to lose his mind.
He finally had the bright idea of pretending to sneak out, and instead waiting secretly to catch the secret gift-giver in the act. But after the cologne gift, which he used constantly and was incredibly happy with, the secret gift-giver never returned. And Harry had enough clothes and shoes to last him a lifetime now, but that wasn't the point.
He didn't miss the gifts, he just missed whoever gave them to him.
He still snuck out every Friday night in hopes of the gift-giver to return again, but there was nothing. Not a single thing. Not even a split-second appearance. The gift-giver had given the final gift, and vanished, and stayed a secret.
So Harry had to try and deduce the gifts on his own, with no person to confirm it. He thought to himself about who wore clothes like his gifted ones, but no one came to mind. Until, whilst he was sitting in bed, wearing the first gift, the dark-green shirt that perfectly complimented his eyes, he realised he'd seen someone wear it before.
Draco.
Draco wore that very same green shirt a year ago, and Harry remembered being surprised by how good he looked in it. He looked smart, and also a little messy, and he had a silver chain beneath the shirt, and Harry fell in love for a split-second before remembering who Draco was, and all that he'd done.
And then Harry remembered the time Draco wore the green hoodie, late at night when he thought no one else would see him. Harry couldn't believe he hadn't made the connection sooner. Whilst Draco only wore fancy suits now, all the clothes given to him were a reflection of his elegance and richness, what Harry had once been jealous of him for.
Harry wasn't sure until he brushed past Draco in a busy corridor. He could smell the scent he had learned to love, adopted as his own, and immediately recognised it. And when he turned to see who it came from, he saw Draco's trademark white-blond hair, and he confirmed that the boy he thought hated him was his secret gift-giver.
The boy who Harry had fallen in love with.
He just didn't know what to do, now that he knew.
On a particularly bad night, Draco found himself reverting to his old distraction. He couldn't sleep, and his stomach was eating him alive with guilt and anxiety, so he picked up a few gold rings that he never wore, and found himself flying to Harry's window.
What he didn't expect to see was Harry sitting on the edge, swinging his legs carelessly, wearing the gold chain beneath his shirt, the shirt that Draco let him wear home, gazing at the stars and the night sky. And Draco fell in love all over again, with Harry wearing his green shirt, his jewellery, hell, even his shoes.
All of the things he was wearing was Draco's, and not the new things. No, all of them were things Draco had worn before, some of the very first gifts Draco had given.
Draco turned on his broom and tried to leave, hoping he hadn't been spotted. He was covered up, so regardless of being spotted, he would've at least had anonymity. But Harry called out to him, and he stopped in his tracks, heart racing.
"You don't have to go, Malfoy."
Draco was stealthy, he had been for months. And yet Harry had figured it out somehow. Where had he gone wrong? "What?"
"I know it's you." Harry said, but he didn't sound angry. "Don't go."
And it wasn't for Harry's sake, but his own, when he turned around and flew over to the windowsill, hovering a safe distance from the brunet. But even so, he could smell his own cologne very strongly on Harry's clothes, and it made him feel warm inside, a stark difference from the anxiety and guilt that was there before.
Sheepishly, Draco put his hand into his pocket and took out the gold rings he was planning to leave there secretly. He didn't say anything when he handed them to Harry, but their hands touched for a second, and it felt like sparks, sparks of electricity.
Draco was really glad there wasn't enough light for Harry to see the blush that appeared on his cheeks.
"Why'd you do it?"
Draco didn't answer, and Harry put his arm out for Draco to take, pulling him onto the windowsill. This was the closest they'd ever been, sat next to each other on the windowsill, looking out at the stars. And both of them smelled like Draco's cologne. Harry could smell the citrusy-sandalwood scent that only Draco had, and he liked it.
"Was this meant to be a prank?" Harry asked, putting the rings on his fingers. "All of the gifts, are they secretly cursed or something?"
Draco felt sick, a reminder of the cruelty of the task he was being forced to do. "No. I wouldn't do that to you."
"So why'd you do it?"
"I heard you." Draco admitted. "At the start of the year, in the bathroom. You didn't realise I was there, and I heard you complain. I'm one of the people who made those assumptions about you. I guess I just.. I didn't- I felt bad. And all the things I gave to you weren't even being worn, so it was useful, I guess, to give them to you."
"And the shoes?" Harry asked. "The shoes weren't old. The first pair, yes, but the rest of them were all brand new. Did you buy them just for me?"
Draco looked down at his hands, twisting the silver rings on his fingers. "Are you mad it was me all along?"
"Mad?" Harry turned to look at Draco. He looked so pretty in the moonlight. "No. I'm just a little confused."
"Cause it's me?"
"Yeah." He said. "But also because I don't know how to feel. You did something selfless, multiple times, just because you overheard me complain. That's not like the Malfoy I've spent the last few years with. I'm not mad it's you, I'm just confused by all of this."
And by how I've fallen in love with a boy who's meant to be my enemy.
"You look good." Draco said distantly, not looking at Harry as he spoke. "It suits you. The gold chain beneath your shirt."
"The shirt that you let me wear home."
Draco looked at Harry, gave him a small smile, and looked back at the stars. Harry didn't say anything else, just leaning his head on Draco's shoulder, revelling in the peace between them. Draco didn't move at first, but after a minute, he put his arm out around Harry's shoulder, pulling him just that much closer.
They weren't friends, but they weren't enemies. And Draco still had a task to complete, but in the moment, it didn't matter. His secret mission was over, but in a cathartic way, and he finally felt complete.