Pouting
Draco is
brilliant at pouting.
Brilliant.
When he wants something, his
lower lips sticks out, just a little.
And his cheekbones develop a
slight flush.
Draco is brilliant at getting his
way.
Brilliant.
But Harry is brilliant at
resisting.
Brilliant.
It was hard at first; of course, Harry would always end up giving in. Draco's accusatory look, the slight pout, was all that was needed. Harry couldn't help it. One look and he would break down and do whatever it is Draco wanted.
Ron liked to comment that this proved that the wizarding world was doomed.
Harry would dance with Draco, even though he couldn't dance to save his life. Carry Draco up the slope-just for fun. Carry Draco down the slope-because he laughed too much and was now tired. Warm Draco. Anything.
He would buy whatever Draco asked for too, even though everyone knew perfectly well that Draco had enough to buy these things himself.
He
bought Draco, a kitten, twelve roses, a whoopee cushion from one of
the muggle joke shops, new silk pyjamas, a pirate hat. Anything.
Everything.
But now, Harry is getting better.
Much better.
So
when Draco asked for a toy boat, Harry merely raised his eyebrow and
laughed.
So Draco pouted.
But Harry resisted.
So Draco's
lower lip stuck out further, trembling slightly. And his cheeks
puffed out slightly as he looked at Harry through lowered lashes.
So Harry bought Draco the boat.
And Draco-went home to practise pouting in the mirror.
While Ron went to pray for the Wizarding world and the rest of humanity.
