Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Rules for Challenges

Of Alabastor and Underoos

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

Summary: Draco is caught in a compromising position and it's all Dawn's fault. Will Blaise be able to get him out of this, or will he actually have to apologize?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Dawn-CenteredMinuetFR1315,070031,2326 Aug 066 Aug 06Yes
Disclaimer: I don't own any of it, I just like to play around with it. Dawn is a product of the man they call Joss, and Draco and Blaise belong to Ms. Rowling.

Setting: Takes place a long time after season 7 of BTVS. Dawnie's all grown up! It's also Draco's 7th year at Hogwarts, but is AU sometime after Book 5 because Dumbledore is still alive.

AN: Well -- this whole thing was sort of inspired by the Underoos-related quote from Echo's fic "Chase Malfoy of Diagon Alley." It's a brilliant fic that I would give my left lung to have her finish, but I don't think it was meant to be. That story made me laugh so hard I nearly peed myself. Anwho, hope you enjoy this fic and thanks for the inspiration Echo.

Of Alabastor and Underoos

Draco Malfoy was naked. From the top of his blonde-haired head to the tips of his toes, his naughty bits were exposed for all the world to see! Damn.

The day had started off well enough. Draco and the rest of the 7th year Muggle Studies class were on a trip. It wasn’t exactly something that Draco had ever thought he would be doing. After the whole debacle at the Department of Mysteries, Professor Dumbledore had gone mental and decided that all pure-blooded wizards would be required to take at least one year of Muggle Studies. Clearly the headmaster thought that he could bring about ‘peace through better understanding.’ Barmy old git. Draco had hated the idea of taking the course, but found he had no say in the matter. Not even the great Lucius Malfoy could get him out of it. Perhaps it had something to do with that whole ‘alleged Death Eater’ thing.

Though he would never admit it to anyone, Draco was actually starting to enjoy the class. He wouldn’t give up his magic for anything in the world, but he did have to admit that muggles had a fair amount of talent themselves. They had some rather interesting ways of compensating for their lack of magic through invention and technology. Amazing. Though he kept his cold, detached game face on during class, when he was alone, he poured over the texts with rabid curiosity.

The class had come to the section on muggle art history, which was quickly becoming Draco’s favorite subject. And now, halfway through the school year, an exciting new term had been added to his vocabulary. Field trip. Draco had been educated at home by private tutors until he reached the age to attend Hogwarts. No one, not his tutors nor his professors at school, had ever even suggested having a class anywhere other than the classroom itself. They were actually going out into the muggle world to visit an art museum so that they could experience it first-hand instead of just pictures in books. And, as the trip was mandatory, it held the added bonus that his father could not possibly object.

Mindless of what his father or his classmates thought, Draco had slipped away from his group of herded cattle to spend some more time in the Renaissance exhibit. It was his favorite period in art history, and he felt that he could sit there all day breathing in the beauty of the pieces. His favorites were, of course, the sculptures. He loved the smooth lines and delicately carved musculature of the figures.

As Draco hid, crouched behind one of said figures, he tried to come up with some sort of escape plan that wouldn’t involve flashing his man-parts to his entire class, not to mention all the elderly women that volunteered during the day at the gallery. His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of approaching footsteps, followed by a very familiar voice.

“Where the hell are you, Malfoy?” the male voice hissed. With equal parts relief and regret, Draco noted that the voice belonged to his best friend, and chief tormentor, Blaise Zabini. Damn.

The pair had been friends since their first days at Hogwarts, when they were placed together as roommates. A study in opposites, Blaise was the taller of the two at six feet even. His raven curls, carefully slicked back to keep them out of his light brown eyes, were a direct contrast to Draco’s straight blonde locks, that often slipped down to cover much of his pale, angular face. And Draco’s eyes were a shade of blue so pale, that they often appeared gray in most light. Although both had the sleek physique of an athlete, Blaise had darkly tanned skin from many hours spent in the sun, while Draco’s smooth, alabaster skin almost rivaled the marble of the sculpture he was hiding behind.

“There you are,” Blaise said as spotted Draco’s white-blonde bangs, “How dare you make me search amongst the cretins for you! I actually had to…….what the hell are you doing back there?” Blaise could barely see his friend’s face, and it didn’t look as though he was making any attempts to come out from behind the sculpture.

While Draco dreaded telling his friend the truth about his situation, he realized that the brunette’s scheming Slytherin mind was probably his best chance at getting out of the situation unscathed.

“What the hell does it look like I’m doing, you great prat, I’m hiding!” Blaise took no offense to the insult. Knowing that Draco’s legendary temper was generally a sign of his discomfort, he grinned inwardly.

“My, my, Princess. What’s got your panties in such a twist?” he purred. “Come now, you can tell Uncle Blaise.” Even though he hated it when Zabini called him by that horrendous nickname, Draco had to admit that it was, at times, well-deserved. His legendary temper tantrums tended to be more diva-like than manly. Zabini was one of the few who were able to see past his attitude to the young man hidden behind. It had become a bit of a contest to see who could come up with the better insults.

“I told you to quit calling me that! I am not your princess, you insufferable twit! I happen to have a real problem over here, and if you’d shut your gob long enough to hear me out, I would tell you!”

Blaise said nothing, but raised a carefully sculpted brow, indicating that his angry friend should continue. Draco took a deep breath before he spoke again. “I seem to be… well actually I am…mphked,” he finished in a mumble.

“I’m sorry, Prin-er-Malfoy, but I didn’t quite catch that last part.” Blaise said. Draco sighed heavily. There was no way to get out of this.

“I said that I’m naked,” he repeated sullenly.

“Naked?” Blaise questioned.

“Yes, naked, you big buffoon. Nude, starkers, in the buff, severely lacking in clothes, however you want to say it, the family jewels are dangling in the wind here, and it’s starting to get a bit chilly!”

“Temper, temper, Sweet-cheeks, I know what the word means,” The left corner of Zabini’s mouth lifted into the trademark smirk that Draco wanted to slap right off of his face. “I know that you love these sculptures, Malfoy, I just hadn’t realized that you wanted to be one of them. Come to think of it, though, your pale, yet nicely formed ass would fit in quite nicely.”

Although Blaise was strictly into girls, he and Draco often joked about the nature of their relationship; mainly to enjoy the discomfort that their off-color jokes caused their fellow students.

“Yes, it is rather attractive isn’t it?” Draco deadpanned. “The point, however, is that I did not choose my current state of undress. It was chosen for me.”

Blaise grinned at this. Images of the elderly female docents wrestling Malfoy to the ground only to steal his clothing flitted through his mind briefly. But he hadn’t seen any of the old girls wandering around with the 17-year-old’s school uniform, and he knew that none of the other students would dare attack his friend. Almost everyone assumed that Draco would follow in Malfoy senior’s dark footsteps and take his rightful place beside his father’s master. Their fellow Slytherin’s revered the blonde too much to do something like this and the rest of the student’s feared him too much to try it either.

Blaise turned his head to glance over the rest of the room. Although it was clear that no one had walked out with his best friend’s clothes, he was hard pressed to see so much as a sleeve or shoe in the remainder of the exhibit hall. It was almost as if his clothes had ……..disappeared. Blaise wrinkled his nose in confusion. That could only mean that magic was used, and all of the students had been forced to leave their wands at school. But wait -- there was one person in the group that was capable of performing magic without a wand. He looked back to his blonde companion for confirmation.

Meanwhile, Draco had seen the wheels in his friend’s brain spinning and knew that he would have it figured out quickly. One of the things that he admired most about Zabini was his sharp and often devilishly cunning mind. Not that he would ever tell Blaise, mind you, but he did admire it. He lowered his head, not quite able to meet his friend’s eyes.

“It was Summers,” he confirmed. True to form, Blaise didn’t even try to contain his reaction. His laughter started from somewhere deep within his body and worked its way upward in spasms and hiccups until it came roaring forth from his mouth. Tears flowed steadily from the corners of his eyes as he carelessly raised a hand to wipe them away. After several minutes, his laughter finally began to die down.

“Are you quite finished?” Draco questioned petulantly. He was going to have to kill Summers for this. That harpy had thrown his life into chaos from the very moment they met. Though it had been almost six months, Draco remembered their meeting as if it had only been yesterday.


It was a glorious Saturday afternoon in the summertime and Draco had just finished practicing some Quidditch maneuvers at the manor. He felt rather refreshed after a hot shower and was soon headed out to meet Blaise Zabini in Hogsmeade.

Draco knew that Lucius thought the Zabini’s were a powerful pure-blood family and would have no objections to Draco spending time with Blaise. In truth, his father probably thought that Blaise would be a good, dark influence on his son and help to bring him into Voldemort’s fold. Hah – if his father only knew!

Although Draco really was meeting with Blaise, he had omitted the fact that the two of them were on their way to Hogsmeade to meet with Albus Dumbledore. The Slytherin pair had been working as spies for the Order for almost a year and they were meeting with the headmaster to give him their monthly report.

The plan was to meet up with Blaise, and eventually the professor, at some new little tea shop that had opened on the outskirts of the village only recently. With a name like Caritas Café, it was easy for the blonde to remember it. He realized that he was quite early and decided to sit down with a cuppa and wait for the others’ arrivals.

Draco had just picked up his second cup when fate literally came crashing into him in the form of a twenty-seven year old, blue-eyed loon that went by the name of Dawn Summers. He hadn’t known that she was right behind him when he turned to go back to his table with the freshly topped off cup. As a result of their collision, he spilled almost the entire cup down the front of his oxford shirt.

“Merlin, woman, why don’t you watch where you’re going?” he fairly screeched. “Do you even know who I am?” It may have been a bit over the top, but she had just interrupted the sanctity of his day!

As a general rule, those who encountered the legendary Malfoy temper tended to apologize profusely and back away immediately. It came as a bit of a surprise to Draco when the woman with the willowy figure and long chestnut hair with fuchsia streaks merely raised an eyebrow; clearly unimpressed with his little tantrum.

“I could really care less who you are Powder,” she replied with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “And point of fact, you’re the one that ran into me, I haven’t actually moved.” Draco immediately bristled at her insult. Bloody Americans. He didn’t think anyone had ever dared insult him to his face before; assuming that being called powder was an insult.

“Well, how about you move now and get the hell out of my way!” He pushed past her and stormed back to his table. It wasn’t until he sat down that the blonde realized he was still covered in tea. He sighed heavily as he realized that he had yet to turn 17 and therefore, wasn’t allowed to ‘Scourgify’ himself. Instead he picked up a napkin, dipped it into his glass of water, and attempted to clean some of the mess. At the sound of something being placed on the table in front of him, he looked up with a smile expecting to see the server. It quickly disappeared when instead he met the cool gaze of his attacker as she placed a fresh cup of tea in front of him.

“Come to apologize, have you?” he drawled. Although he would never admit it, he was slightly disappointed.

“A little self-absorbed, aren’t you? And the proper response here would be, ‘Thank you for the tea, miss. I’m sorry that I’m such a cranky-pants bastard, but I’m spoiled and rich and really don’t know any better.’”

To his utter amazement, the woman, clad in a white peasant blouse and loose-fitting khaki cargo pants, then proceeded to sit down across from him and make herself comfortable! Draco was about to give the brazen hussy what for, when she leaned back in her seat and casually crossed her legs. He noticed that she was wearing what looked to be some pretty serious steel-toed boots. Perhaps a more cautious approach would be advantageous here.

“Is there something that you needed, Miss…..?”

“Summers,” she replied. At the look of confusion on his face, she clarified. “It’s my name, Malfoy, Dawn Summers.

“That’s not a name, it’s a season,” he scoffed. “And I thought you said you didn’t know who I am! For your sake, I hope that you’re not trying to attack me to get to my father, because he will have you for breakfast!” So much for the cautious approach.

“Easy on the paranoia, there, little boy. First of all, if I wanted to hurt you, I’m thinking I could come up with something a bit more painful than scalding you into submission. And second, I said I didn’t care who you were. Of course I know who you are, you’re the reason I’m here. You’re the mission.”

“I’m sorry; did you just call me the mission? Because if you’re trying to convince me of your good intentions, you’re doing a piss-poor job of it.” Draco was now on the edge of his seat, running possible escape scenarios through his head.

Dawn noticed his unease and held her hands up in front of her as she attempted to defuse the situation. “Okay, obviously I am going about this all wrong. I’ll tell you everything as long as you promise not to interrupt until I’m done.” She took the slight nod of his head as permission to continue.

“Alright, so my name is Dawn Summers and I work for the Watcher’s Council. I’m one of the senior Watchers, actually. Anywho, we’ve been doing this restructuring thing after the old council got blown up, and right now we are working on making new contacts, both supernatural and otherwise. One of our new contacts is the Order and I have been assigned to work with Dumbledore and, more specifically, you. Old Albus seems to think that you and your friend Blaise are in more danger than most so he asked me to kind of keep an eye on your arrogant ass and protect you. So, I guess I’m like your guardian angel or something.”

Whatever Draco had expected her to say, that certainly had not been it. Was this some sort of trap? Only Dumbledore and one or two other Order members knew where his allegiance lie. Surely this American woman wasn’t privy to such information.

It took several moments of silence to compose himself enough to respond. “I’m sorry, Miss… Summers, is it? Clearly you have been off your medication for some time now and need help getting back to the nut house you broke out of. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be somewhere that is not here.” He rose as if to leave, but she was faster and blocked his exit. Damn.

“Look, I know that it sounds a bit crazy, but I’m telling you the truth. You’re in danger, and if it were up to me, I’d let the random demon guys and magical folks with poor costume choices have your pompous, holier than thou ass. Lucky for you though, Merlin’s twin seems to want to keep you around.” Dawn followed his skeptic gaze down to where her hands were clutching the front of his tea-stained shirt. Realizing the action wasn’t helping her plea of sanity, she quickly dropped her hands down to her sides.

“All right. Since the word ‘crazy’ seems to upset you, let’s just say that someone’s been ‘Confounded’ one too many times, hm?” Draco said in an attempt to placate the obviously disturbed woman. “Either way, you can tell those people in charge that I thank them for their concern, but I will just have to take my chances with the aforementioned ‘random demon guys.’”

Draco spun quickly, trying to catch her off-guard, and made to exit the building through the backdoor. He had been compromised and needed to find Dumbledore. At the very least, he needed to contact Zabini and tell him to get out and get to Hogwarts where he would be safe.

He heard the woman rise from her seat somewhere behind him, but didn’t hear the curses he expected to be thrown at him.

“I guess we are just going to have to do this the hard way, then,” she said in a tone that had Draco looking around for help. Unfortunately for him, the waitress had taken this particular moment to take her break, as there were no other patrons in the café. He noticed that Summers’ eyes had changed from an ocean blue to an unearthly pale green.

“Come here,” she said with a smirk. As she raised her free hand and whispered something he couldn’t understand, Draco felt a tugging sensation at the front of his shirt. He noticed that he was moving forward by some unseen power. He also noticed that the woman had not used a wand.

Too stunned to come up with the required sarcasm, he said, “I don’t believe you.” Dawn didn’t appear to be all that surprised or offended by his statement. She simply smiled and patted him on the shoulder, and gestured for him to take a seat. He considered making another run for it just as Albus Dumbledore himself walked through the door of the café.

“Ah, it seems that you two have already met. Wonderful, wonderful. I apologize for being late, there was a matter that I had to attend to at the school.” The headmaster repeated Dawn’s earlier gesture to take a seat and this time the blonde complied.

The trio then spent the next twenty minutes discussing the details of Summers’ assignment. She would be taking an apprenticeship with the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts. From there, she would be Blaise and Draco’s main contact throughout the school year and would allow her to keep a watchful eye over the pair. No one was to know her real job, nor were they to know that she was capable of wandless magic.

Although he agreed to everything, Draco was disgusted with the fact that the headmaster had sent some girl to protect him. He was a Malfoy, after all; he could protect himself. And Summers – that annoying Yank – had just smirked the entire way through Dumbledore’s explanation. There was no way he could work with this woman, this lunatic.


Draco shook his head as if to physically drive away the memories and bring himself back to the matter at hand. Meanwhile, his alleged best friend was still giggling like a ten-year-old girl at a slumber party. There was nothing else for it; he was definitely going to have to kill her. First he needed to not be naked though.

“Summers did this? My God, I love that woman!” Blaise managed to choke out in between spasms. He was the only other person that knew the truth about Dawn. “Seriously, she and I together – oh the fun we would have,” Blaise continued as he wiggled his brows suggestively.

It was enough to make Draco forget his current state of undress as he leapt from behind the statue to grab Blaise by his shirt collar. “You keep your bloody hands off of her, Zabini! You and I may be friends, but she’s practically family, and I will not allow you to sully her with your promiscuous, man-whoring ways.” The blonde’s statement made Blaise grin. It was so easy to get a rise out of Malfoy.

“Princess, you know that I would love nothing more than to shout our love from the rooftops, but in the interest of not causing the premature heart attacks of the elder members on staff here, perhaps you should stay behind the statue until we find you some clothes,” he said wryly.

Draco’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red as he quickly dropped his hands and scurried back to the cover that the statue provided. Blaise, however, was not quite ready to end his torment. “My, my, Malfoy. Did you know that when you’re embarrassed, you blush in the most interesting places? It’s quite adorable!”

“Damn it, Zabini,” the blonde ground out. “Could you just keep your perversions to yourself and help me get out of here?!?”

The raven-haired teen chuckled at his friends growing discomfort. “Oh, I’m working on it. I am a Slytherin, for Merlin’s sake. I can carry on a conversation while plotting someone’s evil demise – I think I can manage this.” Draco felt a bit of relief wash over him. He had finally managed to get his friend on task; the end of his torture was in sight. “Besides, I would never make the same mistake twice with that one. Now, the flirting is just a reflex; we both know it’s a joke. You remember what she did the first time, when I actually thought I had a chance in hell?” Blaise asked.

“Ugh, don’t remind me, you git, I really don’t need the visual.”

Summers had tried to impress upon Blaise the significance of the ten-year difference between their ages. She told him that she thought of him as nothing more than a child. When he didn’t seem to be listening to her words, she tried a different tactic. One afternoon as he was showering after quidditch practice, she had removed all of his regular clothes leaving only his boxer shorts which she had magically changed into adult-sized Spiderman Underoos, something they only recognized after starting their Muggle Studies course.

Undaunted, the brunette had walked out of the locker room wearing them with pride. He was far less amused when Dawn switched them again; turning them into adult diapers that were magically charmed to stay on until he apologized.

“You?” Blaise groaned. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel clean again after that one!” Although he shuddered to think of that particular incident, it did bring an important point to mind. “While I hate to bring this up, you do realize that Summers doesn’t generally hex us unless we’ve done something to deserve it,” he questioned.

Draco, who had been drumming his fingers along the side of the sculpture, said nothing and tried to keep his expression neutral. Blaise wasn’t buying it. “What did you do, Malfoy?”

“Why must you assume that this was my fault? I did nothing.” Draco whined.

“I swear, one of these days you’re really going to make my ears bleed from overexposure to all of your whining! I assume it to be your fault, Malfoy, because it usually is. And ‘nothing’ didn’t get you naked, so what did you say to upset my blue-eyed goddess?”

Blaise crossed his arms in front of his chest and fixed his friend with the harshest glare he could muster. He knew that the difference between Malfoy’s and Summers’ tempers was that Dawn could hold a grudge forever. If they didn’t get the issue resolved quickly, it could be adult diapers all around.

“Fine!” Draco shouted as he threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Although it wasn’t completely my fault, I’ll have you know. The woman was following me around like a hawk; it felt like she was trying to smother me!”

“In other words, you didn’t want her to find out about your little obsession with the smooth and pasty mannequins they call art, here, and have her think that you were not quite the manly-man that you pretend to be,” Blaise concluded. Really, the boy was absolutely transparent! “I can only assume that you must have insulted her to get her to leave you with your dirty little secret. Question is: What. Did. You. Say?”

For the second time that day, Draco was unable to look Blaise in the eye. “I may have jokingly suggested that the reason she spent so much time following me around was due to her deep-seated lust for my body,” he mumbled.

“And….” Blaise prompted. Draco’s head managed to sink a little bit lower.

“And there is the distinct possibility that the word pedophile was used.” Oh, this was not good. “You didn’t!” Blaise gasped.

“You bet your Spidey Underoos, he did!” called a third voice. Draco’s head snapped up in a flash while Blaise whipped around to face the object of their conversation.

Summers stood in the entrance way of the exhibit hall, hands on her hips; the very picture of grace. Clad simply in a white t-shirt and a gray pair of yoga pants, she had dispensed with the steel-toes today in lieu of a comfortable pair of clogs that perfectly matched the now-blue streaks in her hair. She liked to color coordinate in unusual ways. However, the expression on her face made both men pause to consider just how many ways this woman might know of to kill a man with those dainty little electric-blue clogs.

As usual, Draco was the one to end the uncomfortable silence by trying to swallow his foot whole. “Where the hell have you been!?! For someone whose job it is to protect me, you’re doing a bang-up job here!”

Blaise clapped a hand to his forehead in disbelief. He then glanced over to Dawn to gauge her reaction. Her eyes never left Draco’s as she coolly replied, “Keep talking, naked-boy. Personally, I would love to hear what you have to say when that sweet little old lady that works the front desk shows up. She was right behind me a minute ago.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re bluffing,” he accused.

“Try me,” she retorted.


“Arrogant prick who’s still NAKED!”

Blaise found he was getting dizzy. It was like watching a muggle tennis match.

“Lower your voice, you little viper! You wouldn’t dare leave me like this. Even you can’t be so cold-hearted,” he sneered. After a minute had passed and Dawn still hadn’t responded, a tiny flicker of fear crossed the young man’s face. “My father would kill me, Dawnie.” he whispered. At this admission, her expression softened slightly, but she wouldn’t give in just yet.

“Still haven’t heard the magic words, yet,” she sing-songed.

“I’m sorry, okay. Is that what you want to hear?”

“And…” she prompted.

“And I don’t think you just want me for my body,” he mumbled with a grimace. Damn Zabini and his incessant giggling.


Draco groaned aloud, “And you’re obviously not a pedophile.”

“And…” This time her prompt was met with a look of confusion. He couldn’t remember saying anything else that would warrant an apology.

“Oooh – I know, I know!” Zabini was waving his hand in the air and bouncing on his toes like an overactive five-year-old. Dawn nodded her head in his direction, indicating that he was allowed to answer.

“And we are but peasants who are honored to bask in your goddess-like presence!” Draco rolled his eyes at his friend’s obvious butt-kissing, but the smile on Dawn’s face was enough to keep him from commenting.

And, in the brief moment of time it took for her to blink an eye, Draco found that he was once again clothed. After looking himself over several times to ensure that she hadn’t left him with strategically placed holes in his uniform, he heaved a great sigh of relief, and stepped out from behind the sculpture.

“Well, now that that’s over, what do you say we find the rest of the cattle and get out of here.” Without waiting for either of his companions’ responses, he strode towards the door of the exhibit hall.

“You know, you ever call me a pedophile again, and it is on like Donkey Kong.” No sooner had she said it, Dawn felt an unexplained need to throw the kid a bone. She knew what the admission of his fear had cost him. “But you didn’t have to hide the whole loving the girly art thing, though. It’s one of the things I actually like about you; keeps me from killing you myself.” Draco’s steps faltered for only a moment before he resumed his confident walk across the room.

“Have I mentioned that I love girly art too?” Blaise queried. Dawn gave him a look that could freeze a man solid. “Thought I’d give it a try. Sorry, Summers. Shutting up now.” Draco turned to watch as Dawn took Zabini’s offered arm and they in turn made for the exit. At times he envied their ability to touch so easily. Shrugging off the moment of melancholy, he joined his companions in their search for the rest of their class.

“By the way, nice shoes, Summers. Come with the hair, did they? Two for one special?”

“I liked you better when you were still naked,” she said as she rolled her eyes.

“That’s what they all say, love, that’s what they all say.”

The End

You have reached the end of "Of Alabastor and Underoos". This story is complete.

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking