Harry Potter finds a flatiron

It's going downhill fast.

Harry Potter has always hated his hair. 

"It doesn't suit me," he rants, glaring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Frustrated, he pulls at the messy, tangled curls that flop in front of his eyes and down to his chin.

 Or rather-should flop down to his chin; The curlyness of his hair makes it appear much shorter than it actually is. 

I have been growing my hair for so long, but it only got more and more curly! It still doesn't fall below my ears!  He thinks. 

 His nails dig into his palms as he resists the urge to punch the mirror. 

"BOY! HURRY UP IN THERE," there's pounding on the door, but Harry just rolls his eyes, knowing that Vernon won't beat him. He's still afraid of Sirius. Harry ignored the pang in his chest as he remembered his death. But since Vernon didn't know of his death, Harry still planned on milking it for all it's worth. 

Harry smiled at his own cunning. I knew I was sorted into Slytherin for a reason. Draco would be proud of me. Harry's boyfriend  was the reason why Harry started feeling so self conscious about his hair in the first place. Harry thought back to a week ago, when Draco commented on the lead singer of their favorite band- Get Scared. No one would think that Harry and Draco were into punk music, but it was what brought them together in the first place. Harry had to admit, Nicholas Matthews had awesome hair, but Draco's comment still made him very jealous. 

"His hair looks so soft and straight! I would love to run my fingers through it,"

Harry had been hurt, since Draco never ran his fingers through Harry's hair. It made him start wondering if Draco didn't really love him. After all, it had been Harry who had taken the initiative to ask Draco to go with him to the dance back in their fourth year. Astonishingly, none of the Slytherins were surprised when it happened. 

"We were betting on which one of you would ask first," Pansy had told him, "I managed to earn 7 galleons and 16 Knuts as I always knew you would be on top," 

Pansy refused to tell Harry what she meant by "Top" And Harry had needed the help of Dudley to decipher what she had meant. With the revelation that they were both gay, Dudley and Harry finally put behind their years of hostility, and made up. Of course, Vernon and Petunia didn't know about Dudley's secret. It made Harry wonder what his own parents would say about his sexuality. 

There was a gentle knock on the bathroom door the Harry knew could only come from Dudley. 

Harry quickly unlocked the door, and Dudley walked in. 

Yes, walked in, not squeezed in like he had to do years ago. Harry had advised Dudley to slim down if he wanted to get boys to like him. Dudley listened, and was now muscular, popular, and had straight hair; almost everything Harry would have wanted to be if he was normal.

Almost. Because Dudley didn't have Draco for a boyfriend. 

"What are you doing?" asked Dudley. 

Harry sighed, and told Dudley about his hair frustrations, while Dudley just listened to his long rant before placing a hand on Harry's shoulder with an excited glint. 

"I've got an idea, Harry!" Dudley opened the cabinet and pulled out a flat iron. While he waited for it to heat up, Dudley explained how a flat iron worked to a very confused Harry. 

"You're telling me I have to apply an iron hot enough to cook an egg ON MY HAIR?"  

"Yes, exactly, Harry," said Dudley calmly, clamping down the flat iron on a section of particularly divergent black curls. 

Harry walked out of the bathroom half an hour later with a large smile on his face. With wispy straight hair that fell just past his chin, his bangs were just long enough to be parted to the side. Dudley had to admit, Harry looked cute- not Dudley's type, of course. But he could still see the appeal. 

But Vernon didn't. 

"YOU FREAK! YOU CHANGED YOUR HAIR! HOW DARE YOU USE MAGIC IN MY HOUSE," 

"But dad, he didn't use magi-" 

Dudley was cut off by Petunia dragging him out of the living room. She knew how bad Vernon could get, and didn't want Dudley to witness the abuse. It was the freak's fault after all, she thought, He should have known better than to use magic. She ignored her son, until she passed the bathroom. A small flashing light drew her attention, and a horrible feeling of guilt washed over her as she gently turned off the flatiron.