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“Draco!” Harry shouted as he returned to their flat, carrying all of the treats that he knew Draco liked best. He wished that Draco wouldn’t date such arseholes (he wished Draco would date him) but no matter how many times he’d told Draco that he deserved better the other man wouldn’t listen. So he did the best he could when things inevitably went pear shaped, he bought snacks and self care things that would cheer him up.
The other man had been having a cry in his bedroom when Harry left and he knew that the best way to snap him out of a bad break up was with cookie dough, margaritas, and gummy worms while they did face masks.
When Draco didn’t respond or emerge from his room, Harry went over and knocked on the door, “Draco,” he said again. “Come on. I got strawberry margarita mix.”
Still Draco didn’t answer, so Harry knocked again, “I’m coming in,” he called as he pushed the door open. “I know you’re upset,” he started but then he saw that the room was empty.
Frowning, he turned and headed back out and just as he was about to send a patronus to find him, the front door opened and Draco came bursting through.
“Oh good,” he said, giving Harry a sharp smile, “You’re back.”
“I am,” he affirmed, “I got your favorites,” he said, nodding toward the grocery bags. “They were out of snickerdoodle dough so we’ve got chocolate chip, but I-”
“Will you help me dye my hair?” Draco blurted.
Harry blinked, “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, of course.” Even though he loved Draco’s hair and the thought of it being anything less radiant than his platinum locks made him feel a bit sad.
“I,” Draco started, before biting his lip and looking away. He rubbed his left forearm, a nervous habit that always made Harry feel a little nauseous.
“Hey,” he said, stepping closer and taking Draco’s hand, “Whatever you need is what we’ll do.”
“I bought pink hair dye,” he confessed in a whisper, holding out the container to show Harry. “Ben always said that I couldn’t dye my hair pink, that we weren’t ‘that kind of gay’ but-”
“Not that kind of gay?” Harry asked incredulously. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
He shrugged miserably, eyes filling with tears.
“Listen,” Harry said, softening his voice, “Dying your hair doesn’t change who you are. Subscribing to hippogriff shite like that doesn’t do anyone any good. I think that you will look fucking hot with pink hair.”
“Yeah?” he asked hopefully, the corner of his mouth curling up as he looked at Harry.
He nodded, “Yes. Give me that,” he added, taking the jar from Draco and examining it. “This is going to be great.”
———-
They spent the next hour dying Draco’s hair, then eating snacks and drinking margaritas while the color set. He helped Draco wash it out in the sink and then dry it with his wand before showing it to him in the mirror.
“It looks amazing,” Harry said in awe, staring at Draco’s reflection in the mirror.
Draco reached up and ran a trembling hand through it, “It does, doesn’t it?” he asked with a smile.
Harry nodded and reached up to smooth his hand along the back, “I just want to keep touching it,” he murmured as he carded his fingers through Draco’s hair a bit more.
“Okay,” Draco breathed in agreement and Harry glanced up at his reflection in time to see his eyes slip shut.
“Come on,” he said, twisting Draco’s hair in his fingers, “I cued up Dirty Dancing before I left. We can watch it while you let me play with your hair.”
The grateful little smile that Draco sent his way made Harry’s heart pitter-pat against his ribs and he realized for the thousandth time just how completely gone he was on Draco Malfoy.
———-
Throughout the next week, Draco got used to his hair. Most people really liked it and Harry was secretly thrilled every time someone complimented him on it.
Harry also hadn’t lost his obsession with it.
It had become their custom now, to sit together on the couch at the end of the day and talk. Draco would rest his head in Harry’s lap and Harry stroked his hair and gazed down at his perfectly beautiful face. He was always glad that Draco kept his eyes closed so that he could just stare at him.
It was late on Thursday, they’d been talking and laughing for hours at this point as Harry continued to stroke Draco’s hair, when Draco said, “It’s really too bad that you’re straight.”
Harry blinked, his hand freezing in Draco’s hair.
“Don’t be offended,” Draco said, opening one eye to look at him, “I’m not trying to come on to you or anything-”
“I’m not straight,” he said.
Draco’s eyebrows furrowed, “What?”
He shook his head, “I’m not straight,” he repeated. “I’m bi.”
“No,” Draco replied.
“What do you mean no?” Harry asked incredulously, “I think I would know.”
“But you’ve only dated women in all of the time I’ve known you,” he said, both eyes opening now as he stared at Harry.
“I dated Ginny,” he clarified, “And then I haven’t dated anyone since because I have trust issues. But I can assure you that I am very not straight.”
“Oh,” Draco said.
He raised his eyebrows, “That’s all you’ve got to say? You tell me that you wish I wasn’t straight and then when I tell you I’m not you say 'oh’?” he asked.
“What would you like me to say?”
“Oh I don’t know, maybe try 'Harry would you like to go on a date with me’ for starters.”
Draco blinked at him, “But you don’t want that with me, you-”
“Are you kidding me?” he asked. “Draco I couldn’t have dropped more hints for you if I’d written you a love letter.” He shook his head, “I am crazy about you. Literally all you have to do is say the word and I am yours.”
Draco leaned forward and pecked him on the lips, “Be mine?” he whispered against Harry lips.
He kissed him again, joy spreading through his limbs and making him feel like he was flying, “Yes, of course, you silly man.”
He pulled Harry in closer, wrapping his arms around his neck and nuzzling his cheek, “I can’t believe you didn’t say something.”
“I can’t believe you thought I was straight,” he countered.
“Okay,” Draco said, pulling back so that he could rearrange himself in Harry’s lap. “So new ground rule.”
“Okay,” Harry replied, his hands gripping Draco’s waist, thumbs brushing over his hip bones.
“No more assuming.”
He laughed, “No more assuming,” he promised. “Also,” he said, “No more doing things for other people.”
Draco tilted his head to the side, “What do you mean?”
“I just,” he shrugged, “I want you to be you,” he said. “Whatever you want to do with your body, I want that,” he said.
The corner of Draco’s mouth tilted up in a smile, “Yeah?”
He nodded, “Yes. No more hiding who we are.”
“Okay,” Draco breathed like it was a revelation. “No more hiding,” he promised.
And it was a promise that they helped each other keep for the rest of their lives.