A/N: I'm trying so hard to finish this story and get it all posted before Book Six, so bear with me here. I hope this chapter and the one following it suit your needs since I can't post Chapter Nine until you have had a bit of suspense. I will most likely be posting it and Chapter Ten tomorrow. Chapter Eleven might show up then, too.
7
To Gel or Not to Gel
Draco looked into the partially fogged mirror that he had been standing in front of for the past hour. He held his hair gel in his hand, debating whether to put it on as usually did and look the same as he always had or to let his hair dry without it and go to see Hermione.
He bit his lip in frustration, tossing the bottle from hand to hand. He looked at himself. His hair didn't look all that bad the way it was, mussed and mildly spiky.
Draco put the gel down decisively and headed into the dorms to get dressed. He glanced at the clock that was hanging on the dorm room wall as he put his shirt on. It was already five twenty-five.
He gasped and hurried to pull on his trousers. He hopped out the door on one foot as he yanked his socks on, carrying his shoes in his mouth by the laces and his winter robes slung over his shoulder.
He reached the bottom of the stairway and sat down, shoving his feet into his shoes.
He hopped up and began sprinting to the portrait hole, pulling his robes on. He had just about reached the exit when Pansy Parkinson appeared out of nowhere.
"Morning, Drakie-Poo," she said, walking towards Draco.
"Pansy, get out of my way," Draco commanded.
Pansy didn't seem to hear him. "I see you're going without gel this morning," she said, "You look like a bloody Gryffindor if you ask me-"
"Which I didn't," Draco interrupted.
"Are you trying to impress someone?" Pansy asked, stepping towards Draco.
"No," Draco growled, "I need to go, now, so move."
Pansy took a large stride towards Draco so that she her nose was almost touching his. Her black hair had been coiled into tight, corkscrew curls.
Draco took a step back. "You got a perm, I see," he said, planning his escape.
"Oh, you noticed!" Pansy screeched, smiling in squinty manner, "Do you like?" she asked, primping her hair.
Draco stepped to the side. "Not really," he replied.
Pansy looked hurt, which was what Draco had intended to make her feel. Her eyes teared up.
Draco smiled, seeing this as an exit, and ran to the portrait hole. He made it out and sprinted up the corridor.
He burst out of the dungeons, marvelling at how the drafts of wind made his hair move so easily.
A/N: Please review! I beggin' ya!