11th day. Tangled hair (Harry/Draco)
Malfoy hated Potter. Even after an officially recognized relationship, he could not tolerate him for his negligence and carelessness. Yes, he was the Boy Who survived and the only one who was able to defeat Togo-Kogo-Nelzya-Nazyvat, but Harry was completely worthless in etiquette, manners and appearance. Draco's eye twitched nervously when he saw what his chosen one was wearing when he came to meetings or was going to the Ministry of Magic. Worn and torn robes, Muggle jeans, often sneakers, which often terrified the purebred magician, and he could barely resist burning it all down to classical music, watching the fire, drinking expensive wine. But the climax of the nightmare was the hairstyle. Black swirls of soft hair were in eternal turmoil and could not be changed.
- There's nothing you can do about it," Potter sighed every time, trying to smooth out the protruding bangs. - No matter how much you do, they'll still turn into bedlam. When I was a kid, my bald head was cut, and the next day my hair was like old hair. In general, do not bother.
But Draco found it hard to put up with such sloppiness. Since childhood, he was taught the rules of decent appearance, and he learned to style his hair before tying his shoelaces. Malfoy knew that Potter liked to break the rules, but this little thing just pissed him off.
- Stop hissing," Draco said evil, once deciding to take up the task of correcting the situation. He planted Potter in front of him, filled his hair with styling gel and combed out black strands. Of course it was painful to the subject, but he only sizzled through his teeth, thinking that Crucio was just a child's play compared to this.
- It's not gonna help," he said, trying to stop it all by winking when his hairbrush teeth got tangled in the whirlwinds again. - In an hour, everything will be the same as before.
- Don't talk too much, Potter," Draco sniffed proudly, sniffing at other people's hair. - I know what I'm doing.
But only Harry knew what he was saying, too. When he came to the reception, his head was in a mess again, and Draco was ready to howl.
- I can ask Hermione to look for a cure," Potter tried to calm him down by stroking on his back. - She knows everything, she'll find something.
- You could have found a solution, but only now did you say so? - Draco growled, giving the lover such a look that any other would have turned to ashes.
- Yes," Harry answered indecisively. - But I have a condition.
Malfoy only raised his eyebrow outragedly, hinting that he was willing to listen to it in a delusional manner.
- No way," Draco answered strongly when he heard Potter's suggestion.
- If you do that, I'll ask Hermione, and I'll have the hair you want at the next banquet," Harry said stubbornly.
Malfoy thought long and hard. It took a long time to decide. But in the end, I thought it was time to stop embarrassing Potter and sacrifice myself for that. More specifically, with his hair.
He got up early that day, as usual. Getting out of bed, he left Potter asleep in his bed, trying to catch Snitch in his sleep. Draco approached the mirror and was horrified to see his hair tangled up overnight and reached for a comb, but he pulled himself off. He decided not to do the styling today, in exchange for the perfect order on and in Potter's head. Malfoy sighed irritably and went to the kitchen.
With a cup of hot tea, he sat down in an old habit in a green velvet chair and opened the "Prophet", who was still shouting about the overthrow of the Dark Lord. Of course, the face of a former comrade-in-arms ran into the shadows, although Draco tried to keep away from his bad thoughts, and it almost worked, but their family fell into a lot of anxiety after the death of Voldemort. He gradually came to life, his spirit recovered, but he realized that some wounds would never heal. Turning the page, Malfoy saw a new tale from Rita Skitter, which markedly improved his mood.
Time flew by unnoticed. The cup was empty, but Draco kept reading when he finally made Harry come down. He froze in surprise when he saw a slutse in his chair. A pale, almost painful face with dark traces under his eyes, his lips and eyes accumulated early wrinkles, which became traces of dark days that had to endure. The tangled blonde hair had somehow frightened Potter, who had not yet woken up to the end. Malfoy only allowed himself to do this at school, after he had been "awarded" the Damn mark. Before him flashed terrible memories - frozen in horror face Draco and a lot of blood from the terrible spell, the pain in his eyes when he directed the wand on Professor Dumbledore, and total devastation from the influence of the Dark Lord. Malfoy was almost broken. Lost and frightened, without support and help, he wandered in the darkness, plunging deeper and deeper into it.
Because of him. Because of Harry Potter.
He rushed abruptly towards the chair and, uncomfortably bent down, clenched Draco in his arms, trying to express even so how sorry he was that he hadn't been there in times of despair.
- You scare me, Potter," Malfoy said, accepting that he would never get out of the trap. - What's going on in your head?
- You don't have to do your part," Harry said quietly. - I'll do whatever you want.
- I'm not saying I'm not happy about it, but you scare me," Draco said in surprise, but still replied with a hug, ruffling my black hair. They had a chance to fix it. And Harry wouldn't let it go and do everything to erase the past, leaving only happy memories.