Drarry Eighth Year

Friends

It was another day at Hogwarts and another potions lesson. Harry and Draco were working on the day's assignment; finding the differences between a bezoar and an antidote. 

    "...So a bezoar will sometimes make everything a hell of a lot worse, basically. That's what  I'm getting from page 102-103, anyway. I'd rather not recap the detailed descriptions of people's stomach exploding, so just take my word that sometimes an actual antidote is really necessary."

    Draco laughed slightly at Harry's one-sentence summary of the reading, writing it down in his notes. "I appreciate the lack of detail, for once. Page 104 says that an antidote will always work, but is sometimes really tricky to make. You might have to wait for a whole lunar cycle or get rare ingredients. A bezoar is just more convenient. It also says that when you-"

    Suddenly, mid-sentence, Draco's hair tie snapped and startled the both of them. His white-blonde hair came cascading down like a glittering waterfall and rested gracefully just below his jaw in loose waves. Harry opened his mouth in absolute astonishment at the now slow-motion view of Draco shaking his head and letting his hair rest more peacefully. Harry felt inexplicably woozy at the sight of his platinum waves framing Draco's sharp face. The light hit it in a way that made it sparkle and almost glow. He just couldn't help but stare as his heart almost jumped out of his chest. 

    "Close your mouth, Potter, you look like a gaping fish," Draco said in an accusatory tone, though he was trying his hardest not to blush and directly not make eye contact with Harry.
Harry snapped right out of his trance and blinked a couple of times to steady himself. "Right, of course, y-yes," He said, staring at the book in front of him. 

"Is my hair really that surprising to you?" Draco said in mock annoyance looking up at Harry and making contact with his sparkling green eyes. 

Harry considered it for a moment. "Sort o-of, y-yes." 

"I wouldn't guess you happen to have an extra hair tie for that mop on your head, would you?" Draco asked, smirking.

"No, definitely not, I don't happen to have your rapunzel hair," 

"First of, I've got no clue what a "rapunzel" is, but I am certainly not it." He sneered.

"She's, erm, like a princess with lo-" 

"Oh, haha, really funny, Potter. Laugh it up all you like, but I like my hair like this." Draco said, genuinely offended. 

"No! No..." Harry furrowed his brows and looked confused, "I didn't mean it like that. I, erm, r-really l-like your, erm, hair...I think it looks nice when it's down." 

Both boys went bright red in the face and fell into an awkward silence for the rest of class. When they were dismissed, they both exhaled a breath of relief to get away from all of the palpable tension in the room. That day, Draco decided that he always would wear his hair down, but he told himself it was for no particular reason.

/////////////////////////////////

    At dinner later that evening, Harry could barely do anything but nudge around his food. His mashed potatoes had turned to mush halfway through the meal because of his constant poking and prodding with his fork. Hermione looked over and saw Harry staring down at his meal, not taking a single bite. 

    "Harry, what's the matter? You seem really off," Hermione said. Harry knew better than to ignore her when she asked these kinds of questions or else she'd just get more concerned. 

    "Nothing, just a tiring day," Harry replied, trying his best to look normal, though he wasn't sure why he was in a weird mood. 

    "Mate, even I know something's wrong," Ron chimed in with his usual goofy smile, trying to make things better.