Moments

3. Shopping in Hogsmeade

A/N This story was asked for by @lottie_maurauder_Xx with a request for leather trousers by @x_xdrarryx_x .

(997 words)

Potter's been in a sulk ever since he received an Owl this morning.

It's clear, even from the other side of the common room and I really want to know why. There was a time when I would have ferreted out the information and used it against him, but now...

I watch him leave with his school bag when he thinks no one notices; when he thinks Granger and Weasley aren't watching. They seem to mother him a little too much for his own comfort, when he's not an awkward third wheel.

I follow.

He ambles slowly to the library, looking lost. He takes a table in the shadows and pulls out his books reluctantly. He stares blankly at the page in front of him, his elbows on the table, eventually just sinking his head into his hands which only serves to mess up his overgrown dreadful hair.

I throw myself down on the pew-bench next to him, startling him, his bright eyes wide behind his glasses. I retrieve a Quidditch magazine from amongst his things and lazily flick through it as he watches me warily.

'Malfoy?' he eventually says.

'Hello,' I say casually, despite my beating heart. I'm not sure why it's beating so erratically fast.

'What are you doing?'

'Just checking you're okay...'

'Looks more like you're reading my new magazine.'

'Well, I haven't seen this one yet.'

'Nor have I,' he says slightly sharply.

I put the magazine down and look at him. We're close together and what has naturally turned into a staring competition is too intense.

He sighs, and hands me the letter he got this morning. It's warm from being in his pocket.

I snigger when I read it. I can't help it. There have been several articles on 'The Saviour' since the war but Witch Weekly want to do a full cover piece and the Ministry have asked him to comply. I do, however, gulp slightly when I see what they're offering to pay.

'I need to wear my own clothes,' he says nervously, looking despondently at his jeans.

'You certainly can't wear those...' I say. 'It's a good thing we haven't got any lessons before lunch tomorrow; you and I are going shopping.'

The next day I find myself in Hogsmeade with Potter.

'Why are you doing this, Malfoy?' he asks as I browse the racks in Gladrags Wizardwear. We don't have too long as I've also booked him into the hairdressing salon across the road from Honeydukes. He's not helping, he's given up because I've sneered at everything he's picked.

'I like shopping,' I haven't got a real reason. 'And you've got potential...' I add bizarrely. 'Take that frightful jumper off, it needs burning.'

'Molly made it for me,' he protests but he still peels it off and I'm surprised to see how ripped he is under all his awful over-sized layers.

'Hmmm,' I eye him up and down. Then put back half of my selection and start again. I decide he could go quite alternative and look damned sexy for all his adoring female fans so, despite his protests, I pick up a pair of leather trousers as I push him towards the changing rooms.

'Be a good boy for daddy,' I smirk and he blushes. However, he does try everything on and I veto it all until I'm satisfied. When we leave, Potter has an entirely new wardrobe, including the leather trousers, and his wallet is considerably lighter.

I won't let him leave the shop in his old scruffy jeans and that jumper. I don't care if the Queen of fucking England knitted it, he's never wearing it again. Instead he wears low-slung skinny jeans and a tight Slytherin-green t-shirt which brings out his eyes and emphasizes his lean muscles, and a three-quarter length black wool coat. His horrible trainers have been exchanged for black biker boots.

I'm proud of what I've achieved; he looks ten-thousand times better. And hotter.

Neither of us fail to notice that he is being ogled by various people in the streets and I see him stand a bit straighter and walk with a bit more confidence as I march him into the hairdressers.

Potter grimaces as the stylist rakes her fingers through his hair. She's pulling equal faces of disgust. We talk over his head as she combs through it, commenting on what may or may not work with his natural tousles.

'Have you ever had it cut professionally?' she asks.

Harry shrugs. 'Never been a call to,' he says and the stylist rolls her eyes.

'There's always a call to, darling.' She sets to with her scissors. When he leaves, his hair is styled back off his face and much shorter at the back and sides. His scar is now clearly visible and becomes doubly intriguing.

We see Madame Rosmerta actually stop stock-still when she sees him and stutter 'Harry?'

He smiles and winks and she giggles like a teenage schoolgirl.

'Ron will kill me if he finds out,' he laughs once we've passed The Three Broomsticks and she's out of view.

I smile too. I like this Harry, confident in who he is and every passing person seems to add to that without taking away his humility.

When we enter the Great Hall, a hush falls amongst the students as he passes between the tables. We both ignore it. I know it's because of this new image but I also know it can't help my own standing to be seen with the Chosen One.

I see the Weaslette do a doubletake and smirk to myself as she glares at me but Harry ignores her and strides towards the year-eight table where he squeezes in between Granger and Pansy, both of whom immediately gush over him. I slide in next to Blaise who raises an eyebrow at me and I know what he's thinking; his very bi-sexual tongue is on the floor.

I simply say, 'don't say a word.'

*****