Chapter 2
“How stupid can you be, you twat?”
“Oh shut up, like you’re any better. It’s obviously going to be dragon blood”
“I’m the one tutoring you! It’s obviously moonstone!!”
They had spent the last 30 minutes arguing over the contents of Amorentia, the tutoring session was going horribly.
Harry rolled his eyes and groaned, slumping back in his chair. His hair was sticking out all over the place and he looked absolutely miserable. And all he could think about was how stupidly blonde Malfoy’s hair was.
How did he even get it that colour? Bleach?? He doubted it, Malfoy would probably throw a fit about how ‘muggle’ it was. He probably used a spell. Which spell?? His hair was practically white… And it was so shiny too. It was insanely irritating. He wondered what Draco would do if he casted a hair colour changing spell.. Huh, it was definitely worth researching that…
Harry's eyes lingered on Malfoy's hair for a few moments longer, lost in thought. He shook his head to snap himself out of it and turned his attention back to the open book on the table. Malfoy was stare at him skeptically, his cold gray eyes fixed on Harry in a steely glare.
"What the hell are you staring at, Potter?" Malfoy sneered, raising an eyebrow.
Harry flinched, caught off guard by Malfoy noticing his staring, he hadn’t thought that Malfoy was capable of thinking that quickly. He quickly looked away, a slight rising to his cheeks. He shrugged and rolled his eyes.
"Just trying to figure out how you manage to make your hair so unnaturally blonde," he retorted, his voice laced with feigned annoyance.
Malfoy let out a harsh scoff, his lips twisting into a small frown.
"Unnaturally blonde? That's rich coming from you, Scarhead. At least my hair is pretty, unlike your perpetual bird's nest."
Harry had to hold back from bursting out in laughter. He had successfully offended Malfoy. He couldn't help but feel a small sense of victory. He knew he had struck a nerve when Malfoy's smug smirk faltered ever so slightly, and it made him unnecessarily happy to see Malfoy pouting self-consciously.
"At least my hair doesn't look like it was fried off and soaked in cleaning bleach," Harry shot back, unable to resist returning the jab.
“What’s bleach?” Malfoy asked. He was staring up at Harry unbelievably genuinely.
Harry blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. He stared at Malfoy, his confusion evident.
"Bleach? You don't know what bleach is?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Malfoy's expression remained unchanged, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "No, I don't believe I do."
Harry couldn't help but be puzzled by Malfoy's ignorance. Who didn't know what bleach was?
Harry's eyes widened slightly in realization. He mentally berated himself for not considering Malfoy's pureblood upbringing. Of course, Malfoy would have no knowledge of mundane muggle household items.
"Ah, right," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, bleach is a cleaning liquid that muggles use. It's really dangerous, though."
Malfoy's expression showed a slight flicker of relief before his usual cool demeanor returned. "Ah, I see," he said, casually trying to brush off his ignorance.
Harry couldn't help but find Malfoy's ignorance somewhat endearing, though he wouldn't dare admit it.
“What’s that got to do with my hair?”
Malfoy was frowning again, feeling defensive about his precious hair.
Harry chuckled lightly, finding Malfoy's defensiveness about his hair rather amusing.
"Well," he started, trying his very best to seem innocent, "many muggles use bleach to lighten their hair. Hence the reference to your incredibly blonde hair."
“But I don’t…”
Harry raised an eyebrow, amused by Malfoy's flustered reaction.
"I know, Malfoy," he assured him, suppressing a grin. "I was just messing with you. Your hair is naturally that blonde, right?"
Malfoy flushed slightly, his ears turning a faint pink. He hastily attempted to brush off the topic.
"Of course it is, Potter. I'm a Malfoy, after all. We have superior hair," he said haughtily, flicking his hair back for emphasis.
“So then why do you put so much gel on it, if your hair is ‘so superior’?” Harry asked.
Malfoy's expression faltered, a hint of irritation visible in his gaze. He huffed in offense.
"First of all, it's called pomade, you uncultured swine," he said haughtily. "And it's for styling. Superior hair still needs to be tamed."
Harry stifled a laugh, finding Malfoy's attempt to explain his extensive hair care amusing.
"Ah, right. Of course," he said, keeping a straight face. "Your pin straight hair has such a mind of its own, doesn't it? It's practically begging for some taming with all that fancy pomade."
Malfoy's cheeks reddened further, his grip on his quill tightening as he clenched his jaw.
"Oh, shut up, Potter. You wouldn't understand proper hair care if it socked you in the stomach."
Harry shrugged, a smug smile on his face.
"Perhaps, but at least I don't spend half my life in front of a mirror, desperately trying to make sure every strand is perfectly in place."
He was starting to enjoy this. Maybe tutoring wouldn’t be all so bad.