Hair
Harry Potter had a new fetish in life: hair.
He'd never really thought too much about it before since it was just a mass of dead strings hanging from everybody's scalp, but if you really thought about it, hair was a lot like fingerprints, no two people's was exactly alike.
Take Ron Weasley's hair, for example. Though all of his family had the flaming red mass of hair, each head had different qualities. Ron's was a bit more tamed than the rest of them, with a bit more wave than the others. Ginny's was much thicker than the others and tended to poof out like Hermione Granger's. Fred and George's hair was a lot stringier than the other Weasley children.
Hermione brown hair was a strange sight to see. She had very thick hair indeed, thicker than anything Harry had seen before, and also very crimp and not very attractive in Harry's opinion. He had wondered at first why she always left her hair down and never did anything with it but now he understood why she didn't; it would take her forever to tame that mass.
Now Harry's hair wasn't all that special, just a jet black untamed mess atop his head. He could do something with it, he just didn't want to. His hair would probably look very nice if he took the time to comb it or run some gel through it, but he really didn't care to. If people didn't like him because his hair was messy, then something was definitely wrong with them.
Now Draco Malfoy seemed to spend a lot of time with his hair every morning. It was all neatly combed back out of his face, never a stray hair in sight, and always seemed to stay that way the entire day. How much hair products he had to use (or spells) to get it that perfect, Harry could only guess. But Harry certainly couldn't complain; Malfoy always looked damn hot with his perfect, seamless golden, white hair.
Harry found himself many a time worried that the bustling Slytherins were too rough around Malfoy's perfect hair. He was always afraid that one of these days someone would mess up the perfect strands and then Malfoy wouldn't be-- well Malfoy anymore because he wouldn't have that perfect trademark hair.
Harry had also found himself wanting to touch that perfect hair on many occasions. Though he didn't want to mess it up, he did want to touch it and see if it was as silky as he always imagined it was.
In his sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry's friend Hermione had (uneventfully) become a prefect. What did come as a surprise though was that Draco Malfoy had become a prefect as well.
Harry always knew that Malfoy was smart but he didn't know that he could apply himself enough to become a prefect. When he saw Malfoy in action, however, he realized that the boy really only wanted the power to give detention and take points from houses instead of actually caring for the well being of the students of Hogwarts.
He had also come to terms with the fact that Malfoy used his prefect title against Harry every chance he got. Harry would be walking down the corridor minding his own business and Malfoy would be walking straight toward him and wouldn't move out of Harry's way. When they would meet in the middle, Malfoy would simply say, 'Well I am the prefect here' and Harry always ended up stepping around him.
Harry was basically under Malfoy's control when he was around and he didn't really seem to mind it all that much.
Malfoy was a hard trainer when it came to Quidditch. He kept himself up to beat and always in good shape, which meant a lot of working out in the Quidditch locker room. Harry had stumbled in many times on him doing sit-ups or push-ups or any other thing to keep himself in shape and had always turned straight around and pretended he hadn't just seen it.
But this time it was different. With his new revelation about his hair fetish, Harry couldn't seem to bring himself to stop looking at Malfoy's golden hair as he strained himself to do more sit-ups than he ever really needed to. His hair glistened with sweat, but still stayed in its perfect daily condition which marveled Harry to all ends.
Harry had probably stood gawking at Malfoy's sweaty hair for more than ten minutes and he didn't think he'd ever get tired of it. Harry's eyes began to stray, however, to other parts of the Malfoy boy in front of him. With nothing but a white muggle shirt to cover his sweat covered chest (making the shirt see through, to Harry's delight), Harry found that Malfoy was very well built (not to mention strikingly handsome in this lighting).
Harry had now been watching Malfoy for over half an hour and began to wonder just how long Malfoy would be working out. It was making Harry a bit tired to see the boy work so hard at something that he really didn't even need.
If ever Harry had been getting bored, he would soon be appeased of it when he saw that Malfoy was finishing up and was now getting up. Harry was still there watching him and didn't know how the hell he could explain himself for this. Harry thought that if he ran as fast as lightning Malfoy wouldn't catch him in the locker room, but he knew that this was not possible and realized that he was now a mouse trapped in a cage with a lion named Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy didn't really seem phased by Harry's presence there, though. He just sort of cocked his head to the side a bit, gave Harry a little quizzical look, nodded and stepped around Harry to get a towel from the cabinet in the corner.
Harry was more than a little confused. Was he just going to let me leave without a word? Harry wished that he didn't think so much sometimes.
"Just out of curiosity, Potter, is there a reason you've been watching me work out for the past half hour?" Malfoy asked without even looking at him. He was rubbing the towel on his neck and Harry found himself staring at the tender flesh that Malfoy was attacking with the towel. He had a sudden urge to lick Malfoy's neck.
"I like your hair," Harry said without really acknowledging what he had just spoken. He was too busy staring at Malfoy's pale skin to really care what he said.
"Well, I guess I should say thank you, except for the fact that my hair certainly doesn't change enough for you to look at it for 30 minutes straight," Malfoy chuckled lightly.
"It's really nice," Harry said, again not really caring what the hell he was saying in the first place. He had the distinct feeling that he was growing a bit hard in his pants which really wasn't good considering he was alone in a locker room (that was getting extremely hot all of a sudden) with Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy stopped toweling himself and began to walk toward Harry slowly. He dropped the towel somewhere along the way but didn't seem to really care. He stopped about two inches away from Harry's stalk- still frame and Harry could feel the heat radiating from the sweaty boy. Harry was now finding it very difficult to breath.
"You seem a bit-- flustered, Potter, is everything alright?" Malfoy asked with tone that Harry found a bit indecisive, though he had the distinct feeling that there was some sort of-- want in it.
"I'm fine, really, it's just a bit stuffy in here. Really hot," Harry said and then Malfoy's mouth was on his and he wondered what exactly he had said to induce such behavior.
Harry went rigid at first because it was a most unexpected action, but he finally gave in and began to kiss Malfoy back, a bit more hungrily than he had meant to. His hands found their way around Malfoy's waist, pulling him closer while Malfoy wrapped his arms around Harry's neck, running his fingers through the hair on the back of Harry's head.
Harry began to get a bit of a sick feeling in his stomach and pulled back to look into Malfoy's eyes to see what he would find there. He almost lost his grounding when he did. Malfoy's grey eyes bore into Harry's with a distinct look of desire and want that made Harry's mind reel.
Harry didn't know what to do, but soon found that he didn't really have to because Malfoy was now playfully biting and pulling on Harry's bottom lip and all thought and concentration had been lost in that simple action. If that hadn't been enough, Malfoy was now slipping his hands down Harry's sides and dipping them into the waist band of his muggle jeans which floored him.
"I don't think you should--" Harry started to say but was silenced by Malfoy's mouth on his.
"I'm the prefect here. I think what I say or do, goes," Malfoy whispered Harry's lips and there he was using that prefect excuse again and now Harry really didn't mind at all because Malfoy was unbuttoning his jeans and they dropped around his ankles and now he was standing in his boxers in front of his supposed enemy. This definitely was not a situation Harry had ever thought to find himself in.
Malfoy hooked two fingers in the elastic band and tugged down once and now Harry was standing in front of Draco Malfoy in all his glory and all he was really thinking was more.
Malfoy kissed him one last time before dropping to his knees in front of Harry and all sustainable thoughts were lost once Malfoy closed his mouth over Harry's hardness. With the skill that Malfoy used, Harry would think (if he had really cared to think at all at this moment) that Malfoy had done this before.
Harry couldn't stand up straight (even with Malfoy's hands holding his hips firmly) without holding onto something. So when his hands found their way to Malfoy's hair he couldn't help but run his fingers through the mass like he swore he never would. The thing was, Malfoy didn't really seem to care (he was a bit occupied at the moment anyway) so Harry decided he wouldn't beat himself up about it.
Malfoy's hair was all that Harry had imagined it to be-- and more. He expected to feel slimy gel as he ran his fingers through it, but instead all he felt was silky smooth hair that slipped through his fingers with great ease. Harry thought he wanted to do this more often.
When Harry was on the verge of release he grabbed a large tuff of that golden hair and tugged slightly until he came and finished shaking in Malfoy's hands.
Malfoy looked up at him while licking his lips and Harry decided that he liked Malfoy's hair when it was tousled by his own desire driven fingers instead of being straight and perfect.