AUTHOR'S NOTES:

This was my 2012 HP Reversathon Fic Exchange (reversathon . livejournal . com) entry. The fest is over and reveals are out, so now I can post this for you here. This fanfic is finished. I will post a new chapter up every week until it's done.

My recipient for the fic exchange was: crystalusagi

Keeping with the theme of a 'reverse', and taking into account my recipient's likes/dislikes, this one came to life in my head almost instantly. Everything in it is a reverse – roles, genders, POV, etc.

A gigantic thank you goes out to my beta, Ladysashi. Thank you to the HP Reversathon fest mods for running this wonderful fest!

DISCLAIMER:"Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

TIMELINE: Post-Hogwarts, EWE (2010).

MAIN CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter

SECONDARY CHARACTERS FEATURES (alphabetical order, last name): Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini

SUMMARY: When Harry Potter catches his co-worker Draco Malfoy in the dressing room at Harvey Nichols sporting women's lingerie, the unrequited feelings of half a lifetime are about to come to a head...

RATING: NC-17 (MA)

WARNINGS: Explicit heterosexual andhomosexual sexual situations (including oral, intercourse in both genders, and loss of virginity F-M). Male cross-dressing. Polyjuice Potion-Gender Switch. Explicit profanity. Sexual exhibitionism. Alcohol consumption. Characters somewhat OOC. Wacky plot. Snarky!Draco. Leatherpants!Harry.

IMAGES TO GO ALONG WITH THIS FANFICTION (remove all spaces to make URL load properly): s905 . photobucket . albums/ac260/RZZMG/Sweat/

SWEAT (ALTERNATIVELY, "CATCHING THE GOLDEN SNITCH")

BY RZZMG

One week before Beltane...

My face was on fire, my blood pounded like a galloping horse in my ears, and the tiniest bit of sweat dotted my upper lip. I swiped a hand across it to get rid of the moisture, feeling my body flush from head to toe with an anxious, uneasy tension.

"I can explain."

"I bet you can," Potter remarked, an impish grin stretching his dimpled cheeks. His eyes roamed my body from head to toe and back again. "And I bet you really want to as well, just so that I won't run and tell everyone we work with at the Ministry that I caught you wearing women's lingerie in the changing room at Harvey Nichols."

I hissed at him, anger burning in my gut. "You fucking prat!" I pulled at the green, lace babydoll that covered my torso. "This Muggle shite-"

Potter's finger was suddenly in my face, cutting me off. It wagged back and forth in silent rebuke. "None of that. We're in public." He looked around, and then ducked inside the private changing room that I currently occupied before a protest could be launched, shutting the door behind him and activating its locking mechanism.

"Potter, what the bloody hell?" I snarled.

"One second," my former rival stalled me, reaching into an innocuous shopping bag he carried around and withdrawing his wand from its depths. He waved it at each of the four walls in the tiny cubicle, incanting a spell under his breath, and the familiar tingle of a Silencing Charm told me that they were now safe to discuss wizarding matters.

"Now, why don't you get to the explaining part," he insisted, leaning against the door in a casual pose that struck me as well-practiced and intentionally meant to show off his broad shoulders and tapered torso. It also caused his hips to jut out just the slightest bit, giving me an eye-full of the sizable package contained under the man's Muggle jeans.

I felt the sweat gather above my lip again and stared at the floor, refusing to be caught staring.

"It's... complicated."

"It always is."

I frowned at the odd comment. "Think this is funny, do you?"

There was a poignant silence and I could feel Harry Potter assessing me with those fathomless emerald eyes of his. "I'm an Auror, remember? In the two dozen years since the war ended, I think I've seen pretty much everything there is to see, Malfoy. This-" he nudged his chin at me, "isn't shocking, so much as amusing."

"I'm glad I could entertain you," I sneered, lifting my head and meeting his gaze. My anger erased my earlier humiliation, straightening my spine.

A smirk worked its way back up Potter's chirpy face. "So, 'Mister Brooding and Mysterious' is into an alternative lifestyle, then?"

Firmly, I shook my head. "It's this... blasted party my wife annually hosts." Gods, how could I explain such a thing to the Goody-Good-Of-The-Year award winner? The whole idea was perverse even by my father's standards, and Lucius' friends had been known for their rather bizarre games during their heyday. "It's tradition in Pure-blood families of a certain social status to throw a private celebration during Beltane. Astoria has determined this year to be a costumed soiree. Adult-themed, if you take my meaning."

Potter's eyebrows shot into his forehead. "A swinger's club meets a masquerade - that sort of thing?"

I tsked and crossed my arms over my chest, feeling quite defensive of Pothead making fun of a tradition that hailed back to Salazar Slytherin's days. "Yes, blast it! It's a freaking fetish party, all right? Even through my wife and I aren't together anymore, she continues this idiotic tradition, making sure to invite all of the who's-who in our circle to eat, drink, and make merry for one night, all on the Malfoy Galleon. Every year is a different theme. She does it so she can keep her place in the Wizarding Haute Ton secure. Are you happy now?"

This was the most I'd ever divulged of my personal life to Potter over our many years of working together, but what could I do? The man had me over a barrel - again. If I didn't give the irritating blighter some sort of explanation now, I was sure he'd spend the next million fucking years of our forced acquaintanceship bugging me about why I'd dare to wear something this outrageous, even in the privacy of a dressing room. Either that, or he really would tell his friends about this little indiscretion, and suffering further humiliation simply wasn't an option.

Gryffindor's former Prince frowned. "'Not together anymore'? You're not divorced. I'd have known."

Rolling my eyes, I tossed my hands into the air. "Of course not, you inane gimp! Malfoys don't divorce. We're married, but living separate lives."

Potter's hips rolled as he straightened, and my eyes were automatically drawn to the movement, despite my best intentions not to consider the wizard in that sort of manner. At least not anymore. I quickly looked away again, feeling the heat creeping up my pale cheeks. "In any case, she's currently with some Russian wizard, living in a private suite in London that overlooks The Alley. Scorpius primarily lives with me, but at this time of the year, he stays with his grandmother in Sicily," I finished, wishing fervently for Scarhead to leave soon so I could change back into proper clothing. I was feeling much too vulnerable for comfort's sake.

Unfortunately, as was typical for Harry Lives-To-Stick-His-Nose-In-It Potter, the man just couldn't leave well-enough alone.

"You sound like you hate the whole idea, so why not just tell your wife 'no'?"

Was he serious?

"Good Lord, Potter! Are you really that daft?" I scoffed. "No wonder your relationship with the She-Weasel didn't last. You never tell your witch that she can't do something. That will only make her try twice as hard to make you regret such a foolhardy decision."

That was one sage piece of advice my father had blessed me with before being hauled off to Azkaban for life, post-war. My mother had backed the old coot's wisdom with a fervent nod... just before she left for the warmer climes of Palermo to hook up with Blaise's dad, her long-time secret lover.

Potter shifted, scratching the back of his head in a very boyish move that made him appear seventeen all over again. "That's not the reason Ginny and I didn't work out. I told you that before. Regardless, you never answered why you're wearing women's lingerie. Was it a dare, or is it a cross-dressing party?"

I turned my back on him, grabbed the hem of the babydoll, and pulled it over my head. "If you must know, this Beltane is going to be... decidedly different. The entire reason Astoria started up a potion's company is because she has an interest in concocting new and interesting draughts specifically for these events. It's ridiculous, but it seems to appeal to the bent nature of our friends."

"Give me an example." Potter was really enjoying this, I could tell.

Huffing a sigh, I wrung the satin slip between my hands in frustration. "Fine. A few years ago, we all had coloured skin. Last year, we sprouted different kinds of wings from our backs. That kind of shite."

Potter looked impressed. "Wings? That's inventive. What were yours made of?" He looked positively delighted. "I'm guessing feathers."

I refused to answer and humiliate myself further, so I ignored the question. "This year, my wife says she's finally perfected her pièce de résistance." Here I stalled, preparing myself for the laughter sure to follow. "It... the potion changes one's gender. If you're a man, you'll become what you would have been had you been born female instead, and vice-versa."

Potter was strangely silent, but I couldn't force myself this time to look up and find out why. I could feel the flames breathing at the side of my face.

"A gender-twist Polyjuice where you use your own hair as template?" he asked, seemingly intrigued, rather than amused, as I'd assumed he'd be. "Standard one-hour, or longer acting?"

I cleared my throat. "Twelve hours. By early morning, it'll wear off. It's not illegal." I felt the need to defend my wife, even if I didn't love her in a romantic manner any longer and I did find the whole idea of this party rather degenerate. She was still my legal partner and we were pleasant and civil to each other despite the divergent paths our lives had taken since we decided that our marriage would be one of mere convenience. "Astoria explained that the potion would be clearly marked, and that anyone who drank it would do so voluntarily."

My bitterest rival was quiet again, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.

"So, are you taking the potion to show solidarity to your wife's plans or because you want to?"

Shite. I so wasn't going to answer that question and suffer the knowing smirk I was sure I'd receive.

"I don't think that's any of your business," I grit.

The low chuckle from behind me caused a shiver up my spine. "I think it is," Potter countered. He moved, and the air stirred around me, and then the skimpy thong that matched the babydoll appeared in front of my face, held between two of Potter's fingers. "Planning on wearing these too? Bet they'll be fetching, although you should consider a Depilatory Spell first. I'm sure your wife can easily teach it to you."

Whipping the thong out of the man's hands, I balled it up with the babydoll and tossed them both to the floor, feeling my heart pound again as the level of my embarrassment climbed into elevations I'd never experienced before. "Can you please leave now? I'm tired of answering your stupid questions and looking at your idiotic face," I barked, hiding my mortification behind anger.

I glanced up, noting my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror before me. Potter stood just behind me, and I could feel the heat of his body even across the inches between us. As he stared at me and my disapproval in the mirror, his grin faded away. A determined expression descended across his features, and his shoulders and spine went stiff with tension. "We haven't discussed the terms of payment yet. If I'm to keep your dirty secrets mum, Malfoy, I want something in return."

My jaw hit the floor. Was Saint Potter really pulling a Slytherin on me with this blackmail shite? To my dismay, I was getting hard at just the thought. Thank Merlin I'd left my trousers on for the fitting earlier, as they were dark and provided good cover.

In a classic distraction technique, I stepped to the side, turned, and gathered my shirt from the hook on the wall where I'd magically conveyed it earlier. As I slipped the fabric over my shoulders and buttoned up, I fumed with the knowledge that this wizard had me once more. Just like after the war, during the trials, I was at his mercy. He had never taken advantage of that situation back then, but apparently a dozen years of working at the Ministry had done wonders to corrupt him.

"Tell me: what would society think if it knew that the Saviour of the Wizarding World had stooped so low as to blackmail a former Death Eater?"

Potter sighed with impatience. "Can the crike, Draco. I'm not biting. I want the favour."

At the use of my first name, my head snapped around in astonishment. I'd only heard Potter say my given name a handful of times in our almost two-decade long acquaintanceship, and then it was mostly during my trial during cross-examination. When we worked together, it was always my cognomen he used. The sound of my first name coming from that voice made things low in my abdomen tighten with a powerful lust.

"What do you want?" I croaked, desperately in need of a glass of water. A bucket of ice down my shorts would have been welcome just then, too.

"I want an invite to the party, as your... special guest," Potter stated, and there was no room in his tone to brook an argument from me.

I swallowed the lump that had gathered in my throat. "This is a Pure-blood only party. You'd have to fake like you belong. Also, I'll require an Oath of Secrecy from you that is unbreakable. No talking to outsiders about what you see or hear at the party this weekend. That's non-negotiable." I turned my gaze back to the wall before me, tucking my shirt into my slacks. "If you thought to report back to the Minister about Pure-blood revels-"

Harry scoffed at that. "That wasn't my intention. Unless someone is harmed or dark magic is used, I'll be officially off-duty. I'd be going for pleasure, not business, Malfoy."

I fixed my belt and looked back into the mirror to assure my clothing and hair was presentable for going back out into public. "So, are you secretly into this kind of thing then, Potter? Is that why the She-Weasel dumped you?"

His growl of irritation made me grin. "How many times do I have to tell you? It was a mutual split," my rival commented, his tone and facial expression dark. "And yes, I'm understandably curious as to what it is you former Voldemort lovers are up to these days."

I heard the lock release on the door, and knew our time was up.

"I'll expect that owl with the invite tonight, or come Monday at the office, they'll be a new topic of interest on everyone's lips," he stated with a dark, rolling anger to his tone, opened the door, and walked out without another word.

I waited until I could hear his footsteps fade, and then I bent and gathered the babydoll and thong I'd thrown down. I bunched them up in my shaking fist and silently gathered my anger around me like a cloak of protection against the emotions sweeping over me.

Son of a whore, there was no way out this time, was there? I was going to have to give in to his demands and break centuries of tradition, or end up the laughing stock of the Ministry. Harry Potter had me at his mercy - again.

Fuck, who was I kidding? He'd always had me like that... from day one onward.

Ruddy bastard.

TO BE CONTINUED...

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Please review! This is my first Drarry alone (just Harry x Draco, no threesome) fic. Let me know what you think!