Protection (Drarry)

Chapter Thirteen

Harry woke up the next morning feeling strangely dull. He was meant to be seeing Dave for lunch, but despite the fact that he had enjoyed Dave's company the other night, he didn't feel like going. He forced himself to get out of bed and make his way to the shower. He wasn't the type to cancel plans, so he figured he needed to hurry up and find a way to make the best of it. Besides, he would surely enjoy it once he was there.

When he finally felt more awake and had made it downstairs to the kitchen, Malfoy was, of course, already up. Harry mumbled a good morning.

"Morning, Potter," Malfoy said, looking up at him. Malfoy gave a small start, his eyes lingering on Harry's hair.

Harry ran a hand self consciously through the wet tendrils that had curled around his face. "Is there something in my hair?" he asked.

Malfoy shook his head quickly and turned back to his toast. "I should be used to the shocking untidiness of your hair by now," he said with a smirk. "But it never fails to amaze."

Harry made a face. He sat down and took two pieces of toast from the rack Kreacher had prepared. Catching sight of his reflection in the window, he thought his hair looked rather tidy this morning, particularly since it hadn't even dried yet. He paused for a second, assessing his appearance. He'd never been one to really care how he looked, but if he was going to start dating properly then he figured he should probably consider it a little more. And if he thought about it, his glasses were very old fashioned.

He lifted his hand and took off his glasses. Of course, now he couldn't see anything. He turned to Malfoy.

Do you think I should get contacts?" he asked.

Malfoy stared at him. At least, Harry assumed he did. All he could see was a pale face and blonde hair.

After a long pause, Malfoy made a movement that could have been a shrug and said, "Shouldn't you ask Dave?"

Harry put his glasses back on. "Not that I know very much about any of this," he said. "But I'm pretty sure that if you're making an effort in your appearance for someone, you don't ask their advice. You just do it."

Malfoy seemed to be avoiding his eyes. "Then get contacts," he said, inspecting his toast carefully before taking a bite.

"So I look better without them?" Harry asked, his suspicions confirmed. That must be why Hermione was always offering to teach him spells that could temporarily help his vision.

"I don't know," Malfoy said, looking up at Harry with a strange mix of exasperation and amusement, like there was some joke that Harry wasn't getting. "Yes. Yes, you do."

Harry felt slightly disappointed. He was getting the sudden impression that he'd failed to pick up on years of hints suggesting that he could do with some aesthetic improvement. That was a little disconcerting, to say the least.

Malfoy frowned at him, seeming to realise that Harry was a little hurt. "Not that you look bad now," he said, the expression still on his face.

Harry laughed. "Thanks, but it's alright, Malfoy," he said. "I'm just a little stunned that people have apparently been telling me I look bad for years."

He pulled out his wand and tried to remember one of the spells Hermione had taught him. He had never bothered to listen. Finally he remembered one of the longer-lasting ones, although it did leave everything softly blurred. "Ensighteous", he muttered.

The world turned blurry. He pulled off his glasses. Malfoy was staring at him again, except Harry could see it now. Malfoy's expression of amusement had dropped and he looked almost lost.