Title: Unkempt Desire

Rating: R (for language)

Beta: simeysgirl

A/N: This is my first. Ever. Fic. Please don't hate it.


Harry had three levels of unkempt hair. There was naturally unkempt, which was as neat as it got. It was his normal style, seen every morning and usually worn throughout the day. On busy days the naturally unkempt hair would gradually become chaotically unkempt as Harry continued to drag his hand through his locks. Lastly, on the really stressful days Harry's hair would resemble a briar patch and he could often be seen gripping at clumps of it attempting to yank it out. Whatever kind of day it is, whatever style Harry's hair takes, the one constant is that Draco will be secretly fawning over it.

Draco wasn't sure when exactly he had become obsessed with Potter's hair, only that he was finding it increasingly hard keep his eyes off of it, to imagine his fingers running through it and on those really bad days, refraining from taking a taming charm to it.

He didn't even know why he was fixated with Potter's hair. Maybe it was due to that fact that, as a Malfoy, he always had to look presentable and pristine which meant never a hair out of place, while Potter's hair was just ... messy. Wild. Free. All things Draco's hair, and Draco himself, could never be.


"He's doing it again," Ron said as he nudged Harry, who looked up from his Charms homework.

"What? Who?" Harry replied distractedly, removing his hand from his hair and sighing. He really wanted to get this, his last essay before the Christmas break, finished; preferably before midnight.

"Malfoy!" hissed Ron, "he keeps glancing over at us."

"So?"

"So! He's not smirking, or frowning, or throwing insults. He's just-" Ron's shoulders climbed up to his ears as he tensed up, "-looking!" His shoulders slumped down again in defeat. "He's just looking."

Harry lifted his eyes from his homework and across the common room until they landed on Malfoy, who caught his gaze and quickly turned away to his own work.

"Maybe he's wondering why you keep staring at him?" Harry offered after turning to see his friend's narrowed eyes looking accusingly in Malfoy's direction.

Ron's head snapped back so fast Harry was sure he must have crinked his neck.

"I'm not staring!" Ron said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Whatever. Have you finished your essay? Can I have a look?" Harry dragged Ron's Charms work towards him as he fisted a handful of hair, mind firmly back on his homework.

Later that night when Harry had finished his essay and was laying in bed waiting for sleep, he thought back to the moment he'd caught Malfoy looking at him. In truth he'd noticed Malfoy staring at him more than a few times since the start of term. The staring itself was not an unusual occurrence but, just as Ron had (finally) noticed, there was no customary evil, calculating or nasty expression on Malfoy's face.

It had caused Harry some distress when he began to notice calm grey eyes settling on him so often. Then one evening, he was in the Great Hall with Hermione, discussing help for his potions assignment. It had been his most stressful day of the year so far, and it was made even worse when he looked up to find Malfoy staring at him again. Often Malfoy would avert his eyes as soon as he realised Harry had caught him looking, but this time he seemed unaware.

Harry's sudden lapse in attention caused Hermione to snap at him about not taking his Potions assignment seriously and Harry ran a hand through his hair to calm and distract himself. It didn't work. As his hand passed through his hair he noticed those grey eyes following the movement. Puzzled, Harry stopped and lowered his hand. Malfoy's eyes stilled, not following Harry's hand to the table. Intrigued now, Harry tilted his head and allowed a few strands of his in-need-of-a-cut hair to fall into his face and blew them away again with his mouth. Malfoy's eyes suddenly widened and lit up.

Malfoy was staring at Harry's hair.

Laying in bed now, Harry started to wonder what the hell Malfoy was playing at. Why did he keep staring at Harry's hair? Harry knew his hair was a complete mess. It had never sat flat or in place and it probably never would, but that doesn't give Malfoy the right to stare at it. Or to put it more bluntly, thinking back to some of the expressions he'd seen on Malfoy's face over the last few weeks, ogle Harry's hair.

No, something had to be done about this. How could he get Malfoy to stop staring at his hair? Shaving it all off was the first idea that came to Harry's mind, but he discounted it straight away. It was winter; he didn't want his head getting cold and he really didn't suit hats. He had to make his hair worse, if that was possible, so Malfoy wouldn't bloody enjoy looking at it so damn much.


It was getting more embarrassing every day. Potter had caught Draco staring at him too many times than was comfortable. And now the Weasel had started to notice, too. He needed to learn some self-restraint, but that had always been a problem for Draco when it came to Potter.

Self-restraint in mind, Draco strode into the Great Hall the next morning and walked determinedly to his fellow Slytherins without so much as a surreptitious glance towards the Gryffindor table. He sat down opposite Blaise and happily started piling crumpets onto his plate.

"You seem cheerful this morning," commented Blaise.

Draco smirked, never giving too much away.

"No reason not to be. Santa will be visiting soon, after all."

"Of course. Sleigh bells and Christmas carols, what joy," Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Ever the grinch, Blaise. You'll never make Father Christmas's 'Nice' list!" Draco remarked, biting into a crumpet and winking at his friend.

Blaise sighed as he leaned over the table to reach a pot of jam. Draco's jaw dropped comically as, with Blaise not blocking the view, he suddenly had clear sight of the Gryffindor table. Namely, Harry bloody Potter.

"Crumpets not enough, you're looking to attract some flies now, too?" Pansy asked from Blaise's left.

Draco slowly closed his mouth, but didn't speak or take his eyes off Potter. What has he done? Harry was looking sheepish, surrounded by his friends, who were all pointing and rubbing his new, very short, hair style.

Draco's self-restraint didn't even last the morning. He was openly starting at Potter during their Charms class. He watched as the boy absently reached his hand up to his head only to look puzzled and then foolish as he scratched at the dangerously short hair that now covered his head. Potter seemed rather self-conscious about his new hairdo, keeping his head down and blushing whenever someone tried to rub his head. Draco was confused about this, he'd never really paid much attention to Potter's face before. It was peculiar to notice the emotions that so easily flashed across his features. It was kind of cute.

No. Not cute. Annoying. Potter was annoying.

"I know it's awful Draco, but you'll go blind if you keep staring at it," said Pansy loudly from beside Draco. This drew most of the class's attention to the fact that Draco was staring at Potter.

Fuck.

"It's like a train wreck; I know I shouldn't look, but I can't tear my eyes away." Draco quickly sneered, suddenly exaggerating his stare into a gawp as all the Slytherins laughed.

Potter's already embarrassed blush deepened. As Flitwick told the class to calm down, Draco noticed Potter pull his red and gold scarf out of his bag, quickly transfigure it into a hat and jam it on his head.

Even though Potter's hat kept his hair hidden for the rest of the lesson, Draco continued to spare glances at the boy's face. The face which remained flushed and low until Potter hurried out of the room when the class finished.

Damn it, Draco thought as he gathered his things and attempted to follow the red and gold hat down the corridor. Trust Potter to have a pretty face as well as attractively messy hair.


Ron and Hermione stopped Harry at the end of a corridor and pushed him into an alcove.

"Don't listen to them, Harry," Hermione soothed, "your hair looks great; it really suits you. Doesn't it, Ron?" She shot a mean glare in Ron's direction.

"Yeah, mate!" Ron spoke up instantly, "it's definitely not messy anymore! Is that why you cut it so short?"

Hermione glared again as she slapped Ron on the arm.

"I just fancied a change," Harry said as he slowly shook his head.

He'd certainly got a change all right. Now instead of the uncomfortable looks of longing he'd been receiving from Malfoy he was getting gaping looks of horror and snide comments. It was business as usual with Malfoy back to his charming self. So why did Harry feel worse?

"The attention my old hair got may have made me slightly uncomfortable," Harry continued, not wanting to divulge the fact that Malfoy had taken to staring at it, "but it was better that outright disgust and laughter."

"But that was just Malfoy, don't listen to him. He's got ferret hair for Merlin's sake!" Ron quickly jumped to his friend's defence.

"Harry," Hermione stated firmly, "the Slytherins will try to mock and upset no matter what you do or don't do to your hair." Harry lifted his head to look at her. "You can't let their reactions bother you."

A smile slowly started to appear on Harry's face. "Thanks, Hermione."

She was wrong of course; not all the Slytherins would upset Harry regardless of what he did with his hair. She was also right, however; he shouldn't let how people reacted to his hair bother him. Quite the opposite, in fact. His smile turned into a full smirk as ideas swirled in his mind.

That evening after all the other boys in the dormitory had gone to bed, Harry's locked himself in the bathroom. He took out his wand and, just as he'd done the previous night, pointed it at his hair.

"Cresco," he whispered.

And suddenly his hair was growing. Within a minute it was back to his normal length, but Harry didn't stop there. He kept the spell going a little while longer. When his hair fell easily around his eyes, ears and the back of his neck he lifted his wand and broke the spell.

Putting his wand down he ran a hand slowly through his new, longer locks. He twirled a finger through the hair at his nape. Finally he threw his head back dramatically, causing his hair to sweep through the air, and his laughed echoed around the room.

If Malfoy really enjoyed looking at Harry's hair so much, Harry was damn well going to give him something to stare at. Oh yes, he was going to have so much fun with this.


Draco spent the rest of the day pondering about what he'd overheard Potter and his friends saying. Potter had mentioned his usual hair getting attention, which worried Draco. Did Potter know Draco was so enthralled with his hair that he'd taken to staring at it at every given opportunity? That he wondered what it felt like? How every time Potter's hand slid through it Draco wished that it was his hand?

But no, Potter couldn't possible know any of that. He'd obviously just got sick of his unruly mop being as easily recognisable as that disfigurement on his forehead.

Draco also spent some time listing which hexes would be best to use on the Weasel after that ferret comment.

By the next day Draco had put the eavesdropped conversation out of his mind and was once again eagerly looking forward to the Christmas break. He woke early and was one of the first students to enter the Great Hall for breakfast.

He was just on his last bit of toast when he heard a collective gasp from the Gryffindor table. The command to keep looking at his food that his brain screamed was ignored by his eyes. Instead they slowly sought out the source of the disturbance.

Of course. Potter.

Draco couldn't actually see what all the fuss was about as it seemed whole of Gryffindor house had crowded around the stupid git. I wonder if he's shaved all his hair off, Draco thought, terrified.

Intent on finishing his breakfast, Draco raised the toast he was holding to his mouth. Suddenly Potter was on his feet shooing everyone away from him and Draco let out a gasp of his own. Potter hadn't shaved his hair, he'd grown it. It now fell across his eyes in an unbelievably seductive way.

Draco let out a slight whimper as the thought of Potter being seductive went through his head.

"Don't you want that then?" Pansy reached across the table and yanked Draco's piece of toast from his hand.

Oblivious to everything except the beautiful way Potter's hair flowed as he turned his head, Draco didn't notice his missing toast.

He wasn't listening when Pansy started talking about all the parties she intended to go to over Christmas; he was too busy being mesmerised by the strands of hair Potter was tucking behind his ear.

He didn't even notice when Pansy began waving her hand up and down in front of Draco's face, for Potter had just started absent-mindedly curling the end of his hair around one of his fingers.

"Draco!" Pansy shouting his name so it filled the Great Hall finally caught his, and everyone else's, attention.

"Er... yes?" Draco stumbled, finally tearing his eyes away from Potter.

"What's wrong with you this morning?" demanded Pansy.

"Nothing," Draco replied as he caught Potter smirking at his out of the corner of his eye, "Nothing's wrong at all."

Revenge acquired, Harry excused himself from the table and made his way out of the Great Hall. Not far from the alcove Ron and Hermione had accosted him in yesterday he stopped at the sound of his name.


"Potter!"

He turned around to see Malfoy walking up the corridor towards him.

"Malfoy," Harry replied easily, "come to make fun of my hair again?"

Malfoy's face was quietly blank as he opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off.

"Only I get the impression you're quite fond of my hair."

Mouth slowly opening and closing of its own accord, Draco didn't know what to say. Instead he settled for his best look of nonchalance.

"That's why you're always looking at me, isn't it, Malfoy?" Harry continued, "Why do you like my hair so much?"

"I don't like your bloody hair!" Draco threw back at him. I love your bloody hair, he thought.

"So it won't make you look all dazed and dreamy if I do this?" Harry said as he slowly ran both his hands through his hair and then shook his head slightly to allow the hair to fall against his face.

Enthralled as he suddenly found himself with Potter's hair, Draco did try to speak, he tried to say no. No, Potter's hair didn't make him look as dazed as he blatantly was right now. It didn't make him look- hang on-

"Dreamy?" Draco snapped out of his Potter's hair induced trace, "You think I look dreamy?"

"Well- er-" Harry faulted. Shit.

That classic Malfoy smirked was now firmly aimed at Harry. He'd never really considered why he hadn't wanted Ron or Hermione to know about Malfoy's voyeuristic tenancies towards his hair, but it suddenly became very obvious to him. Harry liked the way Malfoy looked at him. He liked the muted lust in those grey eyes when they were focused on him. He liked Malfoy.

Before Harry had thought of a response Draco had taken a step closer.

"Isn't that interesting?" Draco moved forward again, only inches from Harry now.

They stood still simply looking at each other for a few minutes. Draco taking stock of Harry's face for the second time in as many days and still finding it as attractive and telling as the day before. Harry was nervously trying to figure out what was happening behind the grey eyes that suddenly didn't just look dreamy, but alluringly bright.

They both moved at the same time. Draco's hands sliding into Harry's hair, finally needing to feel how soft it was. Harry's head leaning forwards and his eyes fell closed, unable to look into those deep eyes any longer.

As their lips met all thought was lost. The only thing left was long pale fingers running through soft dark hair and the gentle sound of content sighs.

When they pulled apart a minute later the world rushed back to them. There was an awkward silence until Draco finally broke it.

"Your hair is unbelievably soft. What conditioner do you use?"

-End-