Harry Potter’s Bad Hair Day

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/25701499.

Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Character: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter
Additional Tags: Cute Harry, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hair, Ficlet, One Shot, SO FLUFFY,
fluff overload, Chill draco, Emotional Harry Potter, Hogwarts Common
Room, Bathrooms
Stats: Published: 2020-08-04 Words: 1012

Harry Potter’s Bad Hair Day

by ChronicMigraine

Summary

All Harry wants is a haircut. Is that really too much to ask for?

Notes
See the end of the work for notes

Harry ran his hand through his hair. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, with a pair of
conjured shears in one hand. Just a little bit. Snip.

He beamed, exhilarated. It worked. It worked! Snip. Snip. His hair, apparently hearing the victory
beneath it, immediately shot up once again. Not this time! Not on my watch!

Harry wanted to cry. Please. I just want to be able to see. Just fringe?

No!

His hair ticked his nose. It was far too long. Frustration bubbled in his chest and he nearly poked
his eye out trying to bluntly chop his hair off. It was useless. It shot out again. Where the fuck was
it all coming from?

“Please, goddamnit.” Harry shook the shears off his hand and buried his face in his palms. His hair
wrapped itself around his hands, as if consoling him.

Fuck off.

The bathroom door swung open. Of course it had to be Malfoy. Malfoy paused, one hand on the
door handle as his right eyebrow slowly raised. He glanced at the hair covering the floor and sink,
enough to cover several small villages.
Calmly, still looking at the hair, he said “Potter, what are you doing?”

Harry opened his fingers enough to peek at Malfoy’s reflection. “I’m trying to cut my hair.”

Malfoy looked at him and his calm expression cracked, leaking bemusement. “Clearly. It’s a
miracle you have hair left on your head.” Malfoy stepped farther in the room, taking care not to
disrupt the hair. It formed a circle around Harry, almost protecting him.

Harry rubbed at his face, weary. He hoped his puffy eyes weren’t too noticeable. It had been a
rough day. He set aside his pride. “Can you help me? It won’t stay short and I just want to be able
to see again.” Harry pleaded quietly.

Malfoy looked at Harry, whose lack of glasses frankly made him look like a particularly pathetic
crup. It made him want to slap him and hide him at the same time. He looked heavenward, praying
for patience. “Turn around, Potter. I don't have all day.”

Malfoy shut the door behind him and used his wand to shift the hair away from him. No way was
he catching Potter’s fleas. Harry’s entire body relaxed and he exhaled. It'll be okay. He’ll cut my
hair and it'll leave me alone. He nearly cried again from the sheer relief.

“Okay,” his voice wavered and Harry cursed it. Why has his body turned against him? “Here are
the shears. I've tried spells and they haven't worked--” his voice cracked. “I tried burning it off too”
he whispered. “It's been hours.”

Malfoy seriously reconsidered Potter’s sanity. “Right.” He considered Potter’s hair. It was thick,
black, curly, and alive, reaching like tendrils towards his face and sticking out at the top. It curled
around his neck and seemed to cling onto Potter. He carefully took the silver shears in his hand and
examined them. They seemed to be muggle.

“Look straight ahead and don’t tilt your head.” He hesitated, then touched Potter’s hair. Harry felt
his ears redden. It’s okay. He’s going to fix your hair. Malfoy sectioned out a small piece in the
back and gently ran his free hand through it. He pushed it down and prepared to cut. “I’m doing it.
Stay still or I’ll poke you.”

Harry grimaced. He’d already burned and cut himself nearly four times in the past hour. This was
nothing. He stood still anyway. Malfoy’s face was a thing of artistic perfection. Every muscle in
his face said, I’m studying for my NEWTs, I'm a resident healer, I'm the head of the DMLE, I'm the
Minister for Magic. I’m cutting Harry Potter’s hair. Snip. Snip. Snip.

Malfoy released the section and stood back. Harry held his breath. And nothing happened. The
newly released hair happily fluttered to the floor, joining its friends peacefully. Harry’s eyes filled
with sudden tears and he wiped his eyes with the corner of his sleeve. It worked.

Malfoy smirked triumphantly at Harry through the mirror, standing taller. Harry swallowed
thickly. “Can you do the rest?”

Malfoy set the shears down and grabbed Harry’s shoulders to spin him around, seeing his red
rimmed eyes. Suddenly uncomfortable, he grabbed the sides of Harry’s head and made sure it was
straight. “Stay like this.”

Harry nodded and Malfoy sighed, exasperated. “Don't move, you daft pygmy puff.” Harry gave a
watery smile and sniffed.

“Are you sure it hasn't regrown?”

 Malfoy checked the back through his reflection. “It hasn't.” He ran his hands through Potter’s hair,
privately noting how soft it was. He could do this all day.

He adjusted Potter’s fringe. It reached his nose. Potter was still looking at him through his hair.
“Stop looking at me, Potter! Merlin.” Harry quickly averted his eyes and sniffed again. Malfoy
counted to five, then reached his pocket for a handkerchief. “Here. And don't give it back to me.”

Malfoy smoothed out the hair again, twisted it, and cut it. With each cut, Harry grew more
emotional. Finally gone. His hair. Finally. When Malfoy finished his work, He stepped back and
examined through narrowed eyes. Harry jammed his hands into his pockets, suddenly so grateful
he could hug him.

Oh, fuck it.

Harry spinned around and grabbed Malfoy’s hands. His cheeks were still wet with tears and he
threw himself into Malfoy’s robes. “Thank you so much, Malfoy,” he said emphatically.

Malfoy froze. In a historically ineloquent moment, he forgot himself and managed to wrench one
hand out of Potter’s deathhold. He patted the Gryffindor awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Er- right. Let go, Potter. These robes are new. Bloody sap.” He made no effort to push him away.
Harry used the opportunity to wipe his tears into Malfoy’s robes. Malfoy sighed, then raised his
hand from Potter’s shoulder blade up to his hair. He ran his hands up and down, reveling in the
shorter bouncy curls that clung to him. His hair sung. How good it felt to be loved and free.

End Notes

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