Whoops?

After Harry got over the nudity, he started trying to get out of going into the shower.

“You stink, go.” Draco trys to argue.

“Yeah but what if something happens while I can’t see you?” Harrys distress was tangible.

Draco pushes the werewolf into the shower, “I’ll be right out here, you can keep the curtain cracked,”

“But-” Harry began but Draco was starting to get tired, and didn’t feel like arguing anymore.

“Go you dirty mutt.”

While Harry drags his feet all the way into the shower, Draco throws his hair into a quick braid. Or at least it should’ve been quick. Before he could even finish half of it, Harry was sticking his head out of the shower.

Harry still had suds in his hair and was staring at the unfinished braid.

“Yes?”

“Um, can I learn to do that?”

Draco pauses. “I don’t see why not.”

“To your hair?” Harry adds.

“I’ll let you try tomorrow,” Harry was visibly excited by that and Draco couldn’t help but think how much Harry was acting like a crup right now.

Finally, Harry got out of the shower looking every bit like the quidditch playing war hero he was. Draco had to avert his gaze, it’s not like he hadn’t seen it before, but he wasn’t looking then, he was just waiting. That was his mistake. There is so much worth looking at.

Harry ties a towel around his waist, leaving his V-line just barely visible, which doesn’t help to lessen the pure sex appeal of the saviour of the wizarding world.

How unaware Harry had to be of himself to just walk around like that. It was like he was taunting him, just by trying to find the plaid pants he had been wearing to bed for the past three days, naked as the day he was born, apparently deciding finding his underwear was too much work and he was going to go full commando.

Draco tried his best to distract himself by finding his own pants, which proved marginally less distracting than Harry. When he finally did find his pants, Harry was staring at him, specifically at his chest.

“We already talked about it, Harry,” Draco tries to comfort, “I don’t hold them against you.”

Harry looked confused for a moment before realizing that he had been caught staring and turning a vibrant shade of red.

“No its not that,” Draco raises an eyebrow, “It’s just-”

Harry looks reluctant to continue, “You’re very pretty.”

Draco can feel the heat rising on his cheeks, he tries his best to suppress it, he knows he goes terribly splotcy when he blushes. Harry looks pleased with himself.

“Lets go to bed,” Draco splutters.

Harry only hums and flops down.

***

Harry wakes up to the familiar bone-deep ache. He lays completely still as long as possible. When Draco wakes up he immediately notices his state.

“We can stay here today,” Draco says quietly, and Harry appreciates that endlessly.

He can hear everyone eating breakfast in the Great Hall. He can smell the treacle tart. Small mercies.

“Let me call Beeny for breakfast,” Harry groaned and then winced at the volume of his own voice, “We’ll get something light,”

Draco asks Beeny for some fruit. Harry really didn’t understand why at first, but the first tentative nibble of the watermelon was magical.

Harry had doubted how much good reading about his condition would do him, but if he had known this trick earlier, he would spend so much less time on the day after scarfing everything in his sight.

After they had finished Draco unleashed his braid and sat in front of Harry. Harry was confused for a moment before remembering their deal, making him grin.

Draco gives soft directions, while Harry runs his fingers through his hair, slowly twisting a loose braid.

“Do you want to try again?”

Harry nods eagerly. He works at it for a couple of hours, at some point Draco had acquired a book. When Harry hears footsteps his hands still and he pulls Draco closer to him. Draco lets out a surprised noise but other than that doesn’t react.

Even when he smells Parkinson's cheap perfume he doesn’t release him. Parkinson knocks and Draco taps Harry once as a warning before raising his voice loud enough to be heard outside.

“Come in,”

***

When Pansy enters the bedroom of the whole little place, she was startled to see Draco reading, all but in Potter’s lap with a half-finished braid. He set his book to the side and waved.

Potter was staring straight at her. Somehow his eyes seemed darker than usual, with an intensity that was almost scary.

“Harry it's just Pansy, you can let me go,” Draco spoke softly but Potter didn’t budge.

Draco shrugged, “Sorry Pans,”

Pansy goes to sit on the bed but Potter growls so she pulls a chair up instead, she makes a conscious effort to keep her voice low, “What are you guys doing?”

“Harry wanted to learn how to braid,” Draco says.

Pansy feels her eyebrows go well into her hairline. Draco gives her a look that says ‘Do not.’ so she refrains.

Dracos very finicky about his hair. When they had resigned themselves to a life of pureblood traditions and thought they’d rather court each other than any of the other purebloods Pansy had tried to keep up the appearance by running her fingers through his hair, and that had ended in a two-week-long argument.

Potter had become significantly less intense and had even let Draco scooch away a little so he could go back to braiding his hair.

“I’m mostly here to check if there's anything I can grab you to help,” Pansy said it off-handedly, like she couldn’t care either way, she did have appearances to keep up after all, but she had read about how painful these transformations are and she had started to grow fond of Potter, “I brought pain-potions,”

She pulls the shrunk-down potions out of her pocket, “I’ll leave these here I guess, I don’t really want to witness your bones rearrange themselves, so I’m gonna leave but enjoy your…”

She looks at the two of them, who are still basically intertwined, “Alone time.”

She waggles her fingers in a wave and then leaves.

***

At some point Harry got bored of the silenced and stole a book on turning into a werewolf and tried all sorts of charms until he finally got something that was almost a television. It only got one channel, and every now and then flashed text across the screen about how excruciating it is to be bitten, but mostly worked.

Draco was very concerned by the box and stated as much, “What do you intend to do with that,”

“Watch telly,”

“Watch what?”

Which turned into a whole conversation about how Harry managed to turn a book into a painting, and then the explanation of the fact it was not a painting, but eventually Draco warmed up to the baking show that was on and set his book aside, leaning into Harry as he braided his hair.

The last couple of hours before the transformation were spent similarly. Draco watched the makeshift telly, while Harry slowly perfected the braid.

When the time finally came Harry moved all the furniture in the room and sat in the center.

“Where do you want me?” Draco asks standing near the wall.

“You can just sit on the bed, you might want to face the wall,”

“Do you mind if I watch,”

“No, but it won’t be pretty.”

Harry strips down to the nude, downs both pain potions and begans to wait.

It’s not hard to tell when it starts, even with both pain potions its agonazing. Fur begans to sprout from everwhere and his bones begin too rearrange themselves. He grinds his teeth to hold back the howl of agony that wants to escape, when his teeth turn sharp blood fills his mouth.

As the transformation completes he looks at Draco to see how he reacted to his wolfish form. He had a sympathetic expression and he pointed to the entrance of the room where Ron and Hermione were standing with a basket of trecal tart.

Well fuck.

***
The entire transformation process was down right horrifying. Draco couldn’t imagine how it felt. He had heard Greybacks pack but he had never seen it and never really cared how much pain they were in. But watching Harry, he wanted to puke.

About a quarter of a way through the process the doors open.

“We brought you some-” A startled Ron Weasley trails off.

The transformation felt like an eternity.