Hair Like Draco

"I wish I had hair like you," Harry murmured, running his hands through the blonde boy's hair.

Only yesterday had Harry seen a memory, which he wasn't supposed to have known of. It was of his father, being, to put it quite frankly, an arrogant jerk. Lately he had come to question his appearance. Looking like his father had always made him proud…until now. In the memory, his father constantly messed up his already untidy hair, to make it look as if he had just stopped Quiddich practice. Harry found this to be stupid, as he was always trying to make his own hair lie flat.

Confused and annoyed with the fact that his father wasn't as brilliant as Harry had always thought he was, he regretted looking so much like him. Every time he caught his reflection in a mirror or window, his brain would explode with questions about what his father really had been like.

And now Harry was lying in the grass, in a clearance in the Forbidden Forest, with none other than Draco Malfoy. His father would have hated him for it.

Harry and Draco had not always been fond of each other. In fact, up until now they had hated each other. This had been the year that had all changed. Before this year, Harry and Draco had had some strange encounters. One, in Harry's third year had involved both boys staring at each other intently, getting closer and closer before Draco had pushed Harry away and stormed out of the room. Another had been only last year, when they had first kissed. Sometimes, they still hated each other…but they were also in love.

It was a lovely day, and Harry and Draco had decided to meet up. They had entered the forest under Harry's fathers cloak and had been lying, side by side, talking for hours. Both had skipped lunch.

As soon as Harry had commented about the blonde's perfect hair, Draco had hit Harry's hand and smoothed his hair over saying, "Don't mess it up, Potter," in a joking manner.

But, then, Draco had seen the look on Harry's face. Something was troubling the raven-haired boy.

"What's wrong?" Draco questioned.

"What?" Harry asked and then quickly replied "Oh, nothing…" at the questioning look Draco was giving him.

"Tell me," Draco whispered and Harry knew he should. Draco was his boyfriend.

Wow…thought Harry.

Draco is my boyfriend. Boyfriend. Never thought I'd be using that term.

Harry gave in and voiced his worries to the blonde.

"My father was an arrogant fool, and I'm just like him," Harry said hastily.

"I'm sure he wasn't," Draco began, "and my father is a Death Eater and I'm nothing like him. You are no fool," he finished.

Harry smiled weakly. Draco always had a way of making him feel better. In reply to the smile, Draco leant over and kissed Harry on the lips. It was a soft kiss, new to Harry. Every kiss with Draco seemed to be different.

It was true. Their first kiss had been feverish and angry. They were expressing their hate through love. They had kissed passionately, they had kissed quickly, slowly; they had shared hard kisses, ecstatic kisses, elaborate kisses…but this soft kiss was new. It seemed to linger, as if they had forever. Harry liked the feeling.

When they finally did break apart, Draco just stared into Harry's emerald eyes.

"You may want my hair," he said "but I want those gorgeous eyes."