Uncommonly Happy
by zahra








Even when Harry sleeps, his hair is out of control; it’s the sort of minor annoyance that only Draco would notice. It’s not really an annoyance though, it’s just an observation. One of many observations that Draco has made in this bed, if only because Draco spends an inordinate amount of time watching Harry sleep. It’s not really an obsession, but Harry scrunches his nose when he sleeps, and it makes Draco smile. It makes him feel... better.

Watching Harry Potter sleep as a relaxation technique.

Draco has always had sleeping problems, but something about being with Harry has made them disappear. Not that they’ve disappeared entirely, but they’re not nearly as vivid as they used to be. Draco doesn’t have to sleep with the linen over his face to muffle his noises anymore.

He used to dream in Technicolor about crimson blood and peeling skin. In his dreams he smelled burning incense and sulfur flames. Now Draco smells pumpkin juice and dirt. Harry’s hair smells like sour apples, and it’s slightly sticky from something that Draco has one or two guesses about.

Toffee apples are supposed to be for children.

Of course only children are supposed to have hair as unruly as Harry’s, and perhaps that’s why Draco can’t help but be drawn to it. Even in the past, before, well, just before, Draco was entranced by Harry Potter’s black mop. If ‘entranced’ is at all the right word, but how else to explain his accidentally turning Potter’s hair green and silver in their fifth year, or into snakes in their sixth?

In their seventh year he had been aiming for snakes and the Slytherin colors, but by then it was too late. Too late for Draco to pretend that what he felt for Harry was anything akin to animosity.

“’s it blue again?”

Of course Harry would wake up, he seems to know when Draco’s watching.

“Sorry?”

“My hair, is it blue again?” Ah, Draco had forgotten about the blue hair. Probably because it had disappeared so quickly – along with the blonde hair and the sandy brown and the white. He had put his foot down at the red - all those Weasleys were more than enough ginger hair for anyone.

“Don’t fret, I didn’t turn your hair blue again.”

“Oh, that’s all right then. Going to go back to sleep now?”

“’Kay.” And yeah, it is okay. It’s late and it’s dark, and Harry can’t see the enormous grin on Draco’s face when he wriggles back under the duvet. There’s a moment where Draco reaches out and smoothes the unruly mess away from Harry’s forehead, but it bounces back just as he knew it would. Not that Draco is bothered – pomade charms aside, he likes Harry just the way he is.