Draco and His Mutinous Hair
Harry Potter held back a laugh as he watched Draco Malfoy swaying and singing off key. The Gryffindor held still, hidden in the shadows so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself. Oh, the blackmail potential - Prefect Malfoy, drunk in an abandoned classroom singing bawdy songs. Such appalling behavior! The blond suddenly spun moving rapidly across the floor until he miss judged the level of the floor. With a great smack he hit the wall and fell back. Harry really needed to start carrying a camera.
The sight of Malfoy sprawled dazed on the floor was almost too much for Harry. He snickered and tried to muffle it with his hand, but in the quiet of the dusty room even that tiny sound could be heard. Draco tipped his head back looking upside down at Harry who was still snickering in the doorway.
“Did you see tha’?” Draco asked flopping his hand. “Damned wall. Jumped ri’ at me.” The blond squinted at the now out-right laughing Gryffindor. “Potter!” He hollered. “You- you- Potter!”
“Mmhmm. And you Malfoy.” Harry said with a smirk.
Draco growled, “Did you make the wall jump at me? Bastard.” He added almost as an after thought.
“Oh, yes, Malfoy. I found the secret to controlling the very castle itself and have chosen to use that power knock you on your drunken arse.” Harry rolled his eyes and stepped further into the room.
“Really?” The blond’s expression was something between awe and anger.
“No, Malfoy, not really.”
“Pfft. Meanie, and I thought you were finally being intve- insep- good.” Draco sounded petulant, “G’way.”
“Nope. This is just too entertaining.” Harry’s smirk widened, he hopped up onto the old teacher’s desk. It was the only piece of furniture in the room except for what looked like the remains of a chair in the far corner.
“Laughing, funny haired bastard.” Draco cursed him and tried to get up. “Ow.” He sat up and curled over holding the back of his head.
“You okay down there?” Harry asked mildly concerned, that had been a rather spectacular crash. The Slytherin gave him the two-fingered salute. Well enough, Harry decided. He picked up the bottle off the other end of the desk. “Ice Whiskey?” He’d never heard of that.
“Taste like peppermint.” Draco told him as he pushed up off the floor. “Gimmie.” He demanded, making his way over to the desk. Harry took a sip, raised an eyebrow at the taste and took a longer swallow.
“Hey!” Draco grabbed the bottle from the brunet and propped himself up on the desk.
“So, what are you in here drinking yourself sick for anyway?” Harry asked. He was pretty sure the Slytherin’s tongue was loose enough from the alcohol that he’d actually tell him. It probably wouldn’t be anything dreadfully interesting but Harry was bored and a drunk Draco was entertaining.
“Why? ‘S not like you care anyway,” mumbled the blond.
“Sure I do, Draco. I’m a goody-goody Gryffindor, aren’t I?” Harry wheedled, throwing his arm over the other boy‘s shoulders.
Draco looked at him sideways but nodded in agreement. He swigged from the Ice Whiskey and leaned into Harry a little. “’m having a bad day. It’s my stupid hair. It‘s not long enough to pull back but it gets every where.” Draco turned, face earnest, toward the brunet. “It SNEAKS in my mouth! It’s horrible,” Draco sniffed. Harry had a hard time keeping a straight face. Merlin, mutinous hair.
“Then, I was doing my potions essay in the common room and there was this little green snappy thing like Pugsy uses just laying on the table. I was so frustrated I clipped back the front part of my hair with it. Then it didn’t get in my eyes anymore.” Draco took another sip and offered the bottle to Harry, who was being really nice. “Slimy Blaise showed up and he started making fun of me!” The drunken boy clutched Harry’s shirt. “But he doesn’t understand!” He practically wailed.
“Understand what?” The Gryffindor was debating trying to remove Draco’s hands or not.
“Long hair is a Malfoy family tradition! Patriarchs are supposed to keep their hair below the shoulders. It makes us look dgnified.” Draco confided with a nod for emphasis. “And since Father is in Akabam now I’m ‘Ord Malfoy. So I have to grow my hair.”
“Malfoy Lords have always had long hair?” Harry asked trying to distract Draco enough to pull his hands off. Unfortunately the drunken boy thought that meant Harry wanted to hold hands.
“Un-huh,” Draco shook his head. “Just the last...” He paused, lips moving as he counted to himself. “Some.” Draco concluded.
“Then it’s not an important tradition, besides you’re the head of the family now. You can do what you like, right?” Harry was struck with a very Marauderly urge, almost Slytherin really. The blond nodded, blinking as if the thought hadn‘t ever occurred to him. “Then sod the stupid rule! Cut your hair if you want. I’ll even do it for you; I know a great trimming spell.”
“Would you?” Draco’s eyes widened in shock. “Why?”
Harry guessed the Slytherin wasn’t completely smashed if he could still think to ask why. “I’m hurt - can’t I just want to help a schoolmate out.” When Draco didn’t look quite convinced Harry added, “Besides I never got along with your Father and it’d really irk him if you let me cut it for you.”
“Oh. Well I ‘pose that’s true.” Draco blew a breath upward to get some of the chin lengths strands of hair from his eyes. “Okay then, but not bald. You have to promise. On your gooy-gooy Gryffindor Honor.”
“I promise I won’t turn you bald, I’ll just cut it nice and short.” Harry put on his most sincere and innocent expression, complete with wide eyes and shy smile. “But I’m going to need my hands to cast the spell.” The brunet lifted their joined hands up and Draco blushed, hurriedly letting go. “Now hold still, this will just take a second.”
Harry twitched his wand and said the spell. A bright blue light swirled around Malfoy’s head and within seconds the platinum locks were floating to the ground. The same blue light burned them away as they fell so all that was left were little bits of ash by the time they hit the floor. Draco now had just a bare half-centimeter of pale blond hair left.
He looked like he had fuzz or dandelion fluff coating his head. Harry almost choked on a laugh when he noticed Draco had a large pale red birthmark in a wobbly heart shape right over his left ear. It had been hidden before but was now unmistakable.
“Well?” Malfoy asked anxiously.
“You look much better Draco.” Harry reassured him. “It’s really getting late though, I’d better be getting back, and you should too. Oh,” Harry remarked casually. “Do you want me to take the bottle of Ice Whiskey? You’ll be in worse trouble if Snape catches you with it. He’s due to start making his rounds soon.”
“You’re right. Can’t have that, he might try to confiscate my whole stash!” Draco pushed the bottle into Harry’s hands. “You’re not so bad, Potter - when you’re not being a prat.”
“And you’re a friendly drunk, Malfoy. Night.”
“Nigth.” Draco waved as he headed to the staircases. Harry made his way opposite to a disused passage that would take him right to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He said the password and hurried up to the sixth year boy’s dorms. Harry hid the bottle in his trunk and got ready for bed. His night had turned out better then expected. He’d been thoroughly entertained, pulled one over on Malfoy and appropriated most of a bottle of Ice Whiskey - which tasted loads better then the Fire Whiskey he‘d had at the twin’s.
Harry was looking forward to seeing Malfoy in the morning. He yawned and rolled over. He wondered how long it would take the Slytherin to realize the trimming spell will keep his hair from growing for six weeks.
-END-
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