Disclaimer: Boo-hoo, I don't own.
A/N: I decided to make a follow-up. Took me long enough. I hope you enjoy this! Questions will be answered in the following installments and yes, there will most likely be more of this.
Also, it's best if you read 'Hairclip' first. But if you don't, then all right. XD
Scrunchy
One-shot
It was one of the windiest Quidditch matches they've ever played in. Students were clutching at their scarves and hats to keep them from blowing away. The players were having a hell of a time trying to keep on their brooms and their speed was reduced greatly since it was precarious to move fast in such windy conditions.
Draco growled as he maneuvered his broom around the pitch, facing towards the wind and consequently having the gust whip at his hair. He'd left his hair without gel since third year and was now paying the consequence as he spit out a golden lock which had inadvertently drifted into his mouth.
He cast an angry glance around the pitch. It was a miserable game. The wind was not helping either team. The bludgers were zooming around with more lethal speed than before and the snitch was completely invisible, flying with the wind.
At least Potter was having the same luck in finding the blasted snitch.
Speaking of Potter…
The Gryffindor came to a stop nearby, cheeks red from the whipping wind, and grinning from ear to ear. His hair, which was longish and still as scruffy as ever, was tied back with a pink-colored elastic material.
He was also wearing that goddamn hairclip.
Draco had thought it a good idea then, plus it had taken points off Gryffindor. But ever since that time Potter had continuously teased him by wearing the girly clip everyday (or after classes, to avoid getting reprimanded by the professors) until it became a new fashion trend in school.
Draco had just wanted to keep that blasted fringe at bay.
"What in bloody name are you smiling at?" Draco demanded, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of the wind.
Harry shrugged, a glint in his eyes. "Nice hair, Malfoy. Maybe you should be the one wearing the clip. Want to borrow? I can take it off if you want." He reached up towards his hair, where, indeed, the clip rested, pinning back the messy fringe.
"Oh bugger off, you fucking wanker," Draco muttered in supreme annoyance. He would have charmed his hair to keep still, but they had no wands with them.
Harry just chuckled and flew away, admirably still moving with his usual grace and skill in the sky that never manifested itself when the Golden Boy had his feet planted firmly on the ground.
This only served to infuriate Draco more. He was just as good as Potter but it didn't even look like the Gryffindor was troubled by the weather, wherein Draco felt as if he was a leaf in a storm.
He decided that keeping still would probably lead to him being puffed off his broom and began circling the pitch. He kept a close watch on Potter, his eyes watering a little as the wind came and came. He reached a hand to his hair and cringed at the tangled state it was in.
Just as he tugged at a particular knot, a flash of gold sped by, followed closely by Potter, nearly knocking Draco off. It took him only a moment to recover before he was racing after Potter and the snitch, trying to forget the wind that was fighting against the two seekers.
The cheers of the crowd could barely be heard over the whistle in his ears as Draco flattened himself on his broom, urging for more speed.
He was side to side with Potter, and the idiotic Gryffindor had the gall to grin at him.
A few seconds later, a split moment before the two seekers would eventually collide with each other, a hand closed around the snitch and the game was over.
"GRYFFINDOR HAS WON!"
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The magnified proclamation wasn't difficult to hear over the rush of wind and even that was drowned out by the ecstatic yells of the Gryffindors. Although, it was unknown if they were happy that they won or that they could finally get out of the horrid weather.
Draco sulked as he stomped towards the Slytherin locker room. He was in a fury, of course. First, he'd been beaten by Potter, again, and his teammates had once more placed all blame on him even if they were no more talented themselves.
On top of it all, his hair was a fucking disaster. It stuck up all over the place, in knots and tangles that would be painful to straighten out. He desperately missed his perfectly sleek blond hair.
Just as he was about to attack his hair (nothing beat conventional grooming methods) with a comb, an amused tone spoke from behind him and Draco immediately stiffened and whirled around.
"You know, I used to wish I had hair like yours, Malfoy," Potter mocked gently, standing there with his arms crossed and hair still tied back.
Draco sneered. "What are you doing here, Potter? This is Slytherin territory. Do you want to get hexed or are you just as stupid as we all think?"
Potter merely grinned and moved forwards. Draco was instantly holding his wand, although he did not point it at Harry.
"No need to get defensive," Potter said cordially. "I'm only here to gloat and whatnot. But since I'm not that type of person, I guess I actually have no reason to be here."
Draco stared at Potter incredulously. Good lord, Potter was an idiot.
Potter looked at Draco's mess of a hair and grinned. Draco opened his mouth to give more scathing comments when Potter reached up to his head and pulled out the elastic band, hair springing free to untidily point in every conceivable direction.
"Next time," Harry said with a smile that was free of any malice, "wear a scrunchy if you decide to go flying. Think of this as gratitude for the hairclip. I've grown fond of it."
Then he turned around and left.
Leaving a dumbstruck Draco to stare at where he'd stood moments before, hair looking as if it had been blow-dried by a demented psycho, and his cheeks were tinged a pink color that was definitely not because of the wind.
END (MAYBE NOT!)