Many Happy Returns
headers and warnings
Harry was glad that Christmas had given him an excuse, his order passed off as a gift for a friend who'd had a major Potions accident and spoiled her best uniform beyond even the house elves' ability to repair. He'd had no problem taking his own measurements -- the Charm was a relatively simple one -- and Madame Malkin had been happy to take his order by owl. It had been a bit more difficult to come by the underthings, but he'd managed to find a discreet little shop in Hogsmeade with a clerk that believed his blushed and stammered explanation of a gift for some unnamed girl, and had supplied him with an assortment in a charming gift box.
Of course, Harry wasn't going to use the box to give the gift, as all of the clothing was wrapping for the real gift -- himself. Neville was 17 1/2 today, and since they hadn't been able to spend their real birthdays together, Harry had bribed their dorm mates to leave them the room for the afternoon so he could give Neville his own private surprise party.
Harry looked at himself in the mirror nervously, the black stockings charmed to stay up his spell-smoothed legs, his prick and bollocks barely constrained by the wisp of pink silk he'd chosen, his feet looking oddly petite in their shiny black Mary Janes. He slipped on the skirt which somehow didn't help, his whole lower half done up sweet and girlish, though the charm he'd used to shorten the skirt had done its work a bit too efficiently, so it was a touch slutty as well. Which, really, worked for his purposes, and Harry put on the blouse and tie with a little shiver as a cold draft found its way up his skirt again and brought his nipples to obvious attention under the thin white cotton.
He hadn't bothered with anything else, figuring it would just be more to take off, and he found himself blushing as he watched the tall, flat-chested girl in the mirror swish her hips and flash just a touch of skin at the tops of her stockings. He even managed to get his hair to cooperate a little, taming it with a handful of sparkly pink-and-gold barrettes he'd borrowed off Lavender Brown, though he hadn't been quite brave enough to beg, borrow or buy any cosmetics.
Really, his cheeks were flushed enough without it, and all the nervous biting had given his lips a sweet, plump redness to them. His eyes looked huge and green behind his glasses, anticipation shining out of them while his fingers danced over the clothing, checking the spell on the stockings, toying with the hem of the skirt, brushing over a peaked, sensitive nipple as he straightened his perfectly straight tie one more time.
He only hoped Neville would like it, and not turn right around and leave as soon as he saw his boyfriend looking a lot more like a girlfriend.
Harry didn't have long to wait for the answer; Neville cracked the door and peered in timidly, obviously wondering why Harry had gone through all the trouble to get them a whole afternoon of blessed privacy. Harry turned to him and smiled just as nervously, and said softly, "Happy half-birthday, Neville. Do," Harry paused to clear his throat, "Um, do you like it?"
Neville closed the door behind him and walked toward Harry, his face holding the same mix of lust and wonder it always did when Harry got naked, or took Neville in his mouth, or lay back on the bed with his legs spread, offering to let Neville top for once. "I like it a lot," Neville said quietly, walking all the way around Harry without touching, stopping between Harry and the mirror. "You really did all this for me?"
Harry relaxed all at once, a grin splitting his face as he nodded. "I really did all this for you. Look," he said, blushing again as he lifted the skirt to show off the pink lace panties and his cock pressing against them, his balls and groin just as smooth as his legs. "I got, um, a few different pairs."
Neville looked up at Harry, eyes boring into Harry's for a long, tense moment before he reached out and cupped Harry's cock through the almost-too-scratchy lace. "You'll wear this again for me?" he said, as much statement as question.
Harry tried not to moan as Neville's fingers explored the way his balls fit into the tight lace, and he leaned in and whispered, "Whenever you like." He pressed his lips to Neville's, trying not to think about what it would be like to wear the panties, or maybe the pair of soft grey silk ones, under his trousers when he went to class.
Neville gave in and opened his mouth in a moan that Harry couldn't help but echo, then their tongues tangled together in a rush of lust. He finally got impatient with the lace and tugged them down, just to the tops of Harry's thigh-highs so they bunched there, obscenely feminine below Harry's needy prick and bare, smooth balls. Neville gasped again and cupped them, rolling them in his palm, and said, "I can't believe you shaved for me."
Harry spread his legs as wide as the panties would allow, hands coming up to clutch at Neville's shoulders. "A-anything, you know I'd do anything for you," he gasped, hips rocking into Neville's caresses.
Neville's fingers strayed back, behind his balls to find his hole, wet and wide open and wanting. "Bend over the bed," said Neville, just enough force behind the request to make it an order, to make Harry even more desperate to have Neville inside him. When Harry's hands went to the panties to pull them off, Neville said, "No, leave them on."
Harry thought he'd never been so hard in his life.
He went over to his bed, walking awkwardly because of the panties and the distracting swish swish of the skirt over his aching cock and balls, and bent over, spreading as wide as he could manage but leaving the skirt down, though it was short enough that the hem didn't even reach the tops of his thighs, resting just above the crease and leaving him terribly exposed. Delightfully so.
"Beautiful," said Neville, pulling his cock out as he followed, not bothering to even undo his belt. "You really are mine, aren't you, pretty girl?" he cooed, then cast a slicking spell on his cock, covering it with smooth gel. "My pretty little girl."
Harry bit his lip and nodded, watching over his shoulder at this new, exciting Neville, commanding and loving all at once, someone he'd always suspected lurked beneath Neville's shy exterior and only needed some confidence to come out. Apparently, Harry in a skirt gave Neville that confidence. "Your p-pretty little girl," Harry repeated, stumbling a little over the words as he'd never thought of himself as pretty, or a girl, despite the outfit he'd donned for tonight.
Harry forgot all about such concerns when Neville's hands slid up his thighs, wand set aside for the moment, thumbs stroking over Harry's balls, then spreading his cheeks wide so Neville could see Harry's twitching pink opening. "You wanted this, didn't you?" he said, and Harry nodded, surprising himself by flipping the skirt completely up despite the way the exposure made him want to writhe or hide or maybe beg.
"Good girl," said Neville, nearly purring as he lined his prick up with Harry's hole, a slow and somewhat inexact process that had Harry nearly squirming under Neville's strong hands.
Harry embarrassed himself by whimpering when Neville's prick found its target, nestling with the head just piercing the centre of the ring. "Please," he said softly when Neville paused, and he dropped his head to his arms to hide at least some small portion of the desperation on his face.
Neville pressed forward with a moan of his own, pushing in fast and hard, making Harry squeak with surprise, though he'd stretched himself well enough that there was no pain at all. "All right there, princess?" Neville asked, petting Harry's arse gently while he gave Harry time to adjust.
Harry took a deep breath, then nodded and managed to gasp out, "S'good, just... surprised me."
Neville took that as permission and pulled out again, then began to fuck Harry hard and fast, with the sort of ungentle rhythm that Harry had often tried to get him to use but had never, until now, been successful. "F-fuck, ohgod, oh Nev," Harry moaned, pushing back as much as he could given Neville still had a good grip on his arse.
"Yes, so good, fuck," said Neville, babbling the same nonsense that he always did, they both did, filth passed back and forth like the sweetest love poetry as their bodies moved together. They moved together, having found their tempo, riding it toward completion as one, the unfamiliar feel of his bare balls swinging and his cock rubbing into scratchy pleats enough to get Harry off even without any extra stimulation.
It didn't take long for either of them, really, but as they were both seventeen and a half, Harry chose to take this as a good thing. It would leave them time for more in awhile, for him to ride Neville or for Nev to flip him over and have him that way, for them to do it again slow and sweet and still manage to hide the incriminating evidence before the boys came up to get them for dinner.
Harry was the first to go over that edge, moaning Neville's name as he spattered white seed over the dark fabric of the skirt and spared a brief, irrational hope that the house elves could get that out, as it was bound to stain. Even that was lost in the final burst of pleasure as Neville hit that perfect spot and sent Harry even higher, white noise making the world go away for a brief, eternal heartbeat.
When Harry came back to himself, Neville was the one shouting, his cock buried balls-deep in Harry's greedy arse as Neville came and came and came. Harry clenched his arse to draw it out, hoping to give Neville something like the pleasure that Nev had given him, wishing for the first time that he could see Neville's face properly. Neville slumped down over Harry, nuzzling against the back of Harry's neck, and whispered, "Best half-birthday present ever."
Harry couldn't help but laugh.
Title: Many Happy Returns
Fandom: Harry Potter
Warnings: Slash, underage (17), crossdressing
Summary: Harry didn't get to see Neville on his real birthday, so he decides to give him a very special half-birthday.
Acknowledgements: For yare's birthday. Thanks to the closet for encouragement, beta duties and secret-keeping.
All of the works contained herein are labours of love, unauthorized by those who hold the rights to such things, and no profit is made from them. No harm is meant, and hopefully no offense given.