Chérie, parchments and quills

Chapter Thirteen - The winds of remaining corruption

"What of my own students? As head of Slytherin, shouldn't I be assuring my students are ready to leave likewise?" He knew what Minerva was going to say before she said it.

"Slytherins unorganised? Merlin help us the day that happens. I'm sure you will find the time to round up any Slytherin stragglers mind you ... after passing on my message first of course. It's the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs that I find need the extra time to gather their wits about them. Unless Harry makes an appearance soon, I fear that there will be chaos amongst the cats this morning."

---OOO---

When Harry answered his door that morning, Draco frowned in concern. Harry was dressed, if you could call it that, but it looked as if he'd been dressed by a three-year-old. In fact, no! He'd seen three-year-olds dress better. It also appeared that Harry hadn't gotten much sleep, if the redness of his half-closed eyes were anything to go by.

"Oh, dear Merlin Potter, what are you thinking? You do realise that Halloween has long gone and that we're now approaching Christmas?"

"Not now Draco." Harry pleaded, leaving the door open as he went back inside. He picked up his half mug of black coffee. "Why are you here? Minerva?" He asked, before downing the last of his caffeinated drink.

"She noticed your absence at breakfast. You do realise that you should be taming your lions, right?" Draco asked, frowning at the mess: student essays and homework left out, robes thrown over the back of the armchairs, and toast half eaten on the dining table with two empty mugs.

"I'm going! I just had a rough night." Harry admitted, putting his empty mugs into the sink and disappearing into his bedroom.

"Minerva would like to see you when we get back from Hogsmeade." Draco shouted so that Harry would hear him.

"Did she say why?" Harry asked, rushing from his room as he threw on his robe. Apparently, he was ready to go.

"No." Draco frowned at Harry again and block the door. "Potter, I cannot in good conscience let you leave this room like that."

"What's wrong with this. It's what I usually wear." Harry frowned, looking down at himself.

"You always go out with your buttons in the wrong holes." Draco pulled at Harry's shirt. "Your hair looks like a bird's nest – a worse bird's nest then it usually does anyway." Draco wrinkled his nose at Harry's hair before looking down at him again. "And your robe is a wrinkled mess. Not to mention that you have odd socks on and your tie is still untied."

"I don't have time to–" Harry cut himself off as he growled in frustration, running a hand down his face.

"Nightmares?" Draco asked. Harry just nodded. "Oh, come here Potter!" Draco ordered; it burned his eyes just looking at Harry's state of dress. He stepped closer to the raven-haired man.

Draco didn't know what made him do it in the first place, but he'd started now so he had to carry it through. Besides, it was like an itch to look at Harry and not fix the complete dress disaster in front of him.

He took Harry's black tie, throwing over his own neck for the moment, and then undid the buttons on Harry's light grey shirt. He was amazed that Harry was letting him do this, but he worked quickly and was soon fastening the buttons the correct way ... before he could admire Harry's chest or think any further about removing Harry's shirt entirely. It was a fantasy he couldn't afford, but as he fixed Harry's tie into place, he couldn't help but become increasingly aware of Harry's breathing, of their proximity, of his own hands slowing in their work. He finished the perfect tie knot, and was about to remove his hands, when Harry caught his wrist.