Betaed by "leashy_bebes" (For which huge thanks). Inspired by the Artwork Draco in Muggle Clothes, by "deathJunkE" for the Draco big bang on live journal. All characters and situations belong to JK Rowling.
"It feels odd," Draco said. "Exposed." He ran his palms up the insides of his thighs, over the thick fabric. "Indecent."
"Well, you look great," Dean reassured him. "Stand up."
"Why?"
"Twirl round. Let me see it."
Draco stood: shy, reluctant. He pulled the soft waistcoat-thing down at the back.
"Don't do that!" Dean laughed. "That was the part I particularly wanted to see."
Draco sat back down abruptly, landing heavily on the velvet-cushioned seat of the stool he'd pilfered from the Manor. Thick seams bit into his flesh all round his privates. "It's too tight," he complained.
"It's not tight at all. Any looser and they'll fall off." Dean paused. "Which would be nice, but maybe a bit much for Gran."
Draco didn't smile back. Dean sighed and squatted down in front of his boyfriend. He put a hand on each of his slim knees, stared into his face. "I appreciate this, sweetheart, I really do. It's just that the whole 'Magic' thing still freaks them out a bit." The little frown lines at the top of Draco's nose deepened. Dean leaned away from him. "I didn't turn up at the Manor in jeans, did I? I made the fucking effort. Your Dad was still a bastard to me the whole visit. I put up with it. For you."
Draco looked over Dean's head. "We knew it wasn't going to be easy. You're male and Muggle-born. It's not what he was hoping for."
Dean stood up and took a couple of deep breaths. "Yeah, I get that. I wasn't exactly left in any doubt about that, was I?"
He still wasn't sure how the 'male' part was going to go down with his family. He hoped his Mum had got over her idea that Draco must have put a spell on him.
"But you're not gay," she kept saying, the last time he'd seen her.
In the end he'd shrugged, said simply, "I'm in love with a man, Mum. That's all it takes."
They didn't really understand the magical world. They all accepted its existence and that he belonged in it now – though that had taken a while. Mum hadn't known his father well, or for long; they assumed that was where he'd got it from. It freaked them out though; he'd never done any magic in front of them.
It was hard enough for his mother and sisters and brother to accept that he had a wizard boyfriend, he didn't know what his grandparents' reaction was going to be. Their generation expected things to be conventional. Wizard and boyfriend, both things were going to take some getting used to.
His war had been very different to Draco's, both full of fear and pain, but not the same at all. Dean had witnessed what the Snatchers did at first hand. He'd spent a year on the run, hiding out with Goblins, with Ted Tonks, with anyone who might protect him. He had been sure, every day, that he was going to die because of his blood status. He had wished repeatedly that he'd never received that letter from Hogwarts, that he'd never known, and had just quietly lived out his boring Muggle life; but it was too late.
Draco had wished for a different life then, too. Nothing specific, just anything other than slavery under Voldemort. He had been sure that each day would be his last, too. Somehow they had both survived. They had both woken up on the morning after Voldemort's death feeling exhausted and relieved and unsure about the future.
Draco buried his Aunt Bellatrix and Dean stood at Colin Creevey's graveside on the same day, and found themselves in the same pub late that night. They glared at each other and kept their distance, unable to forgive their enemy, nursing their schoolboy rivalries. Their hate lead to a drunken duel. In front of Muggles.
Exasperated Aurors threw them into separate cells at the Ministry to dry out while they Obliviated the other customers and Reparoed the bar. In the morning Draco and Dean appeared side by side in front of the Wizengamot.
"It's only few Galleons!" Draco had sneered at a devastated Dean in the corridor afterwards. "Honestly, if you can't afford the fine, then don't -" Dean punched him. He punched him for Neville, for Luna, for Hermione, for all the Weasleys, for Harry. He punched him because he hated arrogant rich gits who couldn't understand that some people just didn't have any Galleons, that they didn't even have any pounds to convert at Gringotts' outrageous rates, because their Mum was on benefits and they didn't have the right qualifications for a job in either world and they didn't feel like they fitted anywhere. It felt good, so he kept on punching him.
Draco punched him back and pulled his hair and bit and scratched. Because it was good to be dishing it out. He'd taken enough.
They had lain out on the floor exhausted afterwards and started talking. They'd talked in the lift, in the hall, waiting for the floo, and it had been ok. Dean had flooed straight to the Hog's Head. He'd just got off the hearth in time before Malfoy fell through the floo after him. They got drunk together that night; they fell into each other's arms and, somehow, it made sense of everything.
Nothing else made sense so they stayed together. It was a secret for a while: a dirty, sneaking thing which hid in uncomfortable places. Not anymore.
"Why can't Muggles just wear normal clothes?" Draco asked, slouching forward.
"Normal?"
"Robes. You know what I mean."
"You are an impossible snob and you're a bigot!" Dean snapped. "I don't want you to meet my family after all."
"Good." Draco crossed his arms. "I don't see why we couldn't just keep sneaking around."
"Screw you!" Dean hissed, and walked out into the little kitchen garden of the cottage they'd just moved into. His Mum and his sisters would be here soon. His brother, Tyler, was bringing the grandparents a little later. He'd spent the previous day cooking, hiding all evidence of magic, cleaning and fretting. Mostly fretting. Draco had frowned at him in confusion as he watched him using the potato peeler. Mum distrusted magic, he wouldn't make her eat anything prepared that way.
His eyes prickled. All Draco had to do was dress normally and be polite and try not to scare anyone. He'd gone through hell at the Manor.
"Dean!" Draco's cry behind him was plaintive.
Dean didn't dare turn round. He was scared that if he did, he'd see that Draco had changed into robes and he knew he'd lose his temper at that. He'd shout and scream and they'd probably split up. Which would kill him, if he was honest. For all that Draco was selfish and spoilt, he was still the best thing that had ever happened to him.
"Dean, come back in. I think the pie might be burning and I don't know how to stop it. Not in a Muggle way."
Dean swore and spun round, dashed into the kitchen, heading straight for the cooker and not thinking about anything else. He put on oven gloves and pulled out the lunch; it was fine. It would be ok. Just a bit dark brown at the edges. He carefully placed the heavy tin on the top of the stove.
"It smells good." Draco said, hovering in the doorway. There he stood, his long-sleeved T-shirt so white it made his skin look like it had some colour, with the white socks which were greying from the bottom up. He did look a bit odd, but only because he was Draco Malfoy and neither of them were used to him dressed like this.
"Thanks," Dean muttered.
"I don't understand how you made it. Without Magic or Elves or anything," Draco muttered. "I can't do anything Muggly."
"Muggly?"
"Like magically. But Muggle."
Dean gave a fond little snort. "Not a word."
"Is now." Draco raised a cheeky eyebrow. " I say it is."
"I stand corrected! Of course, you've never been known to be wrong!" Dean took a step towards his lover, holding open his arms hopefully.
Draco sighed and stepped into them. "Do I look stupid?" he asked with a whine.
"You look fantastic." Dean kissed his cheek. "Always do." He slid his hand over the trousers, specifically over the seat, taking hold of a buttock with each hand. "Sorry I've been so snappy. I'm nervous. But we can't avoid my family forever."
"I know, I know." Draco sighed. "I didn't mean it, about sneaking around. This is forever as far as I'm concerned. We can't hide away forever." He sank his head onto Dean's chest, onto the unfamiliar texture of man-made fibres covering it. "I'm scared. They're going to hate me!"
Dean hugged tight. "They've got no reason to hate you, Draco."
"I'm not very likeable," Draco replied, as though that were an obvious and well known fact.
There was the sound of a car pulling up outside. They both stiffened. Dean stepped back and ran his hands over his short-cropped hair. He took a deep breath. A car door slammed shut.
"Come on, let's do this," he said, moving towards the front door. "And remember this: you're not just likeable, you're adorable."