Chapter 8
Once Harry had recovered, he very much so realized Draco was almost naked. He attempted to say a lot of things, succeeded in none of them, just a lot of noises, and then turned his entire body and kept his hands in the air as though he was being held at gunpoint.
Draco burst out laughing and got to pulling on some trousers and a baggy sweater.
Harry couldn’t help but think they matched, kinda. They had both ended up dressing as cozily as possible to combat the all-nighter they'd pulled. Harry himself was wearing a long-sleeved red shirt, with an embroidered H on the corner, and a pair of jeans again, choosing to skip the robe today, Minerva probably wouldn’t be happy but he was comfortable.
Staring in the mirror next to Draco made him feel something Harry couldn’t quite name. Harry stared at the two of them while he brushed his teeth, Draco's eye bags from the night stood out far more on his fair skin compared to Harry's darker complexion.
Now that Harry knows they’re there, he can’t help but notice the scars peaking out of Draco's sweater onto his collarbone. He wants to run his fingers over them.
Harry poked Draco in the waist to get past him, sliding his toothbrush into the toothbrush holder.
Harry sat on the toilet while he watched Draco run his fingers through his hair coated in a thick substance.
Draco hums quietly in a language Harry doesn’t understand, he caught several words like, “Chante, rossignol, chante” which made him think it was probably French.
“What is that?” Harry asks, trying to nod at what Draco is putting in his hair through the mirror.
Draco jumps as if he had forgotten Harry was there but he must’ve gotten the point across because he answers, “It's a hair potion, conditioning, are you even going to attempt to brush yours?”
Harry runs his hands through the dark mess of curls on his head, it’s getting longer, almost shoulder length now, “Eh,”
“Oh come here,” Draco waves Harry over and withdraws his wand.
After appraising Harry for a moment he seems to come to a decision and summons a hair tie. Harry watches Draco in the mirror as he resumes humming and twists Harry's hair into a loose braid.
After a moment he takes a step back apparently pleased with his work.
“Right I think we oughta head out then,” Draco turns on his heel, grabbing a robe with a fur lining to throw on over the top of his current outfit.
It made him look comically overdressed but then he attempted to hand Harry a robe as well.
“Oh no, I think I’m fine.” Harry makes an attempt to wave away the offered robe but Draco forces it into his arm and he pulls it on with a sigh.
***
Draco realized as he walked into the Great Hall, not just on time but several minutes early, that being early to breakfast was rather out of character for the two of them. It surprised him that the only people sitting at the tables were several Ravenclaws and Minerva; he wasn’t that early.
Draco takes a seat next to Minerva and Harry slides in next to him, already chugging at the coffee laid out.
Before long the remaining professors arrive. Draco can see Neville nudge Harry out of the edge of his eyes.
“Wow Harry you look like shit,” He says cheerfully.
Harry grins sarcastically, a trace of fondness under his tone, “And you look like a vampire got to your neck, might wanna cast a few glamours.”
Neville blushed furiously and rushed to mutter several spells.
“Didn’t know congical visits were allowed,” Harry teases, poking one of the bruises.
“Oh, shut up. you stay in Draco's room,” Neville retorted making Harry splutter.
Draco frowns, “No need to bring me into it,”
Neville laughs.
After a few moments, the students flood into the Great Hall talking and laughing, except, for the Gryffindor table. The students at that table were still laughing, but their conversations were hushed and they were exchanging money.
Draco kicks Harry under the table, “Harry it appears your students are buying illegal potions.”
Harry's head whips around and he squints, “Holy shit, Draco I forgot my glasses,”
Draco facepalms.
“How do you not notice that sort of thing?” Draco pulls his wand from his holster, “Hold still, if you move I could blind you permanently.”
Harry freezes and Draco guides him back by the chin and casts a temporary vision-enhancing charm. Without his glasses, Harry's eyes, already a vivid shade of green, seem almost unnaturally bright.
“Is it done,” Harry whispered.
“Yes, but your eyebrows need plucking.” Draco hums.
Harry blanches, “You are not coming anywhere near my eyebrows.”
Draco takes the opportunity to smooth a thumb over his eyebrow, “We’ll see.”
The Gryffindor table grows suddenly louder, causing Harry to redirect his attention back to his own house table and promptly burst into laughter.
“They’re not buying illegal potions Draco,”
“Then what in Merlin's name are they doing?”
“They’re making bets,” Harry makes a motion to push up his glasses, frowning when his hand meets nothing but air.
“On what?” Draco questions trying to get a better look at the paper.
“Couldn’t tell you,” Harry grins, “Oi, Ms. Foster.”
Victoria Foster goes concerningly pale, “Yes, Professor Potter?”
“What’s going on over there,” Harry goes to run his hand through his hair but Draco wacks his hand away.
“I worked hard on your hair; leave it be.”
Harry sighs.
“I’m afraid I neither can nor should tell you, Professor.” Ms. Foster says, suppressing a grin.
Harry raises an eyebrow, “Is that so, wow Professor Malfoy maybe they are doing drugs.”
“Professor Potter,” Draco scolds sharply.
“You know exactly what we’re doing Professor Potter, don’t scare the firsties.” Ms. Foster scolds.
“I suppose I’ll leave it be,” Harry says, grinning, “For now.”
Draco kicks him in the leg. Harry responds rather promptly, retorting with his own kick.
Before long a full-on battle breaks out, and it doesn’t stop either. At least until Harry gets tired and traps Draco's legs between his own and continues eating as if he had done nothing at all.
***
Throughout the day Harry feels great. No all-nighter can bring him down. He was the Saviour of the Wizarding World for fucks sake. Until about his fifth class, in which he wishes to melt into a puddle. His head hurt and his vision was just a bit blurry.
“Alrighty guys, I’m feeling a bit under the weather, so you’ll have to pardon me if I’m a bit slow today.” The class hums in agreement, “Let's get started.”
***
Draco brewed a quick pepper up in between classes in anticipation of the incoming crash, he had stayed up late a couple of times whilst studying to become a potions master and he knew that it wouldn’t be all sunshine and rainbows soon.
So when the drop comes in and knocks back the pepper up and continues as usual. At least until his sixth period.
Now Draco knows it's below him to eavesdrop on a group of fifteen-year-old girls, really, he does. But in his defense, they had said Harry's name.
“Professor Potter looks so tired,” One says, worry clear in her tone.
The others nod in agreement, “He was kinda hot though, wasn’t he, with his hair like that and his broody eye bags.”
“He didn’t even have his glasses on, really he was smoking.”
A mixture of disgust at a bunch of children objectifying someone almost double their age and an unnamed feeling rose up in him.
Draco decides to put a stop to the gossip, clearing his throat loudly behind them and arching an eyebrow, “Care to share with the class.”
Most of the girls flushed and averted their eyes but one girl stood up and appraised Draco.
If the colors on her tie didn’t cue you into her being a Gryffindor her proudly shouting her opinions on her Professors body said it loud and clear.
At Draco's horrified expression, she chuckled, “You asked Professor Malfoy.”
Draco makes an attempt to regain his composure.
“Francene you can’t just say that,” Her friends scolded.
“That was not worth winning that bet, Franny.”
“Ms. Hudds sit down this instance.” Draco hissed.
Running an exhausted hand over his face, “Where were we?”