Stick To Me

Draco Malfoy yawned widely, then stopped midway, drool dripping from the side of his mouth. Carefully, he cracked open one eye and surveyed his surroundings. The Slytherin boys' dormitory was empty except for him on this Sunday morning. The growling of his tummy let Draco reconsider: It was empty on this Sunday afternoon.

"Damn those bloody traitors," the blond growled rather unimpressively, mostly due to his still sleep-sticky eyes and his crinkled left cheek where he'd rested on his pillow. Even if it was considerate of his roommates to let him have his beauty sleep - but whom were they kidding? He couldn't look any better than he did already - they were willing to let poor Draco starve. The blonde Slytherin considered the possibility of this being part of an elaborate scheme to get rid of him, before he firmed his resolve to be even more watchful of his pretty backside than before.

Fishing a chocolate bar out of his breast pocket, he quickly devoured it to keep his tummy from grumbling any more.

Draco squinted against the light that kept pouring through the magical windows and stumbled into the general direction of the bathroom. Two metres short of his destination, Draco's attention waned. He tilted his head back again, screwed his eyes shut and yawned. Nothing in his fifteen-year-long life could have prepared him for the following, as he trudged on, oblivious to the upcoming horrors, his bare feet tapping over the rug-covered stone floor, his eyes foolishly closed.

"Eep!" Draco shrieked as his toe got caught up in a piece of clothing that lay hazardously in the middle of the dorm room. The Slytherin tried to step over his unmoving attacker. Unfortunately, there was another piece of clothing on the floor. Faster than Draco could wrap his still sleep-befuddled mind around it, he found himself stumbling, his arms thrashing wildly in the vain attempt to keep his balance. In years to come, Draco would see the haunting memory of the stone floor rushing up to meet him. Landing with a hard smack, his feet tangled in what he was loath to believe were Crabbe's or Goyle's undergarments, Draco mewled piteously.

"It is just my luck," the boy whined with a wince as he touched his sore nose, "that I'm alone and nowhere a hero in sight when a helpless maiden- uh, a *man* is in dire need of one. Killing Voldie and rescuing the entire world was good and all, but where is Saint Potter when there's really an emergency like preventing my pretty face from bruising ...?" Draco sniffled, kicking the restricting clothes from his feet without looking. After successfully thwarting the second attempt at his life in less than five minutes, the Slytherin felt more awake and ready to face the world. Well, after a much-needed visit to the bathroom, that was.

Avoiding any further incidents, Draco quickly made his way into the bath, shutting the door firmly behind him. Thoughtfully averting his gaze from the full length mirror in front of him - even someone as gorgeous as the Malfoy Heir couldn't look impeccable first thing in the morning -, Draco quickly shed himself of his snugly cotton pyjamas and hopped into the shower.

With the first drop of water hitting his head, the blond's hair acquired a life of its own, springing in every direction as the heavy charms that were placed upon it lost their effect. It was hideous to look at, Draco winced as he touched his extremely unruly hair, wishing that it would just hurry up and grow already. As it was, his hair was still too light to stay straight. Without his hair gel and the charms he used at night - the same ones his father had used in his childhood - Potter's hair would appear silky and divine compared to his mop of stringy spikes. Draco supposed he looked like a shining star, his hair haloing around him like sunrays; he had never dared to look in the mirror, dreading the mortification of that horrendous event. He doubted he'd ever come over the shock. There were rumours about his great great great grandfather Obnoxious Malfoy who had risked a glance in the mirror with his natural hair. Well, suffice it to say he didn't live to tell the tale; therefore it was only a rumour. However, Draco wasn't inclined on finding out whether it was true or not.

After washing his hair with the special Weighing Down Shampoo, Draco's locks were now dripping wet and his head resembled a very bright coconut palm, only without the coconuts.

Quickly, Draco dried off, determined to keep his mind off the Malfoy Hair Curse as much as possible. (It was rumoured that some ancient Malfoy tried to charm his hair into resembling Zeus'. Needless to say, the God wasn't too pleased with the earthling's daring, thus cursing his whole bloodline with the hideous mane.) The Slytherin, wrapped tightly in a fluffy towel, kept his eyes sealed shut as he moved to the small cabinet by the sink.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief as he grabbed the xxx-large tube of hair gel. The sigh, however, quickly turned into a panicked gasp, as the blond couldn't squeeze any gel out of the tube. He very carefully cracked open one eye and froze in utter horror: The tube was empty. Empty. The single word echoed in Draco's head like a mocking mantra.

"Merlin," he whimpered. "Whatever am I going to do?" As it was Sunday, Draco still had a plenty of time before classes would start again. But even on a Sunday, he couldn't hide the entire day. He needed to get supplies, quickly. Whoever had used the last dollop of his hair gel was going to pay. Dearly.

Now wasn't the time to plan revenge, though, now Draco needed to figure out how the heck he was supposed to get some gel before he contacted his mother for more ...

:+:+:

Draco pulled the hood deeper into his face, wincing as he caught sight of the greenish-blue scales on the back of his hand, and hurried down into the common room. Breaking into one dormitory that wasn't his own proved to be more dangerous than previously anticipated. Draco growled low in his throat at the memory of all the jinxes and hexes that had hit him during the last hour. Being preoccupied with his hair dilemma, Draco hadn't really been in a state of mind to successfully defend himself. It was a shame. What would his father say?

"Poor baby!"

Draco jumped, pressing a trembling hand to his racing heart, while the other hand still held the hood securely over his head. He hadn't even realised he'd arrived in the common room.

There weren't many students down there as it appeared. A couple of first and second years were doing homework in front of the fire ("Aww, little ones. Over time, they'll learn to bribe Ravenclaws to do it for them ..."), a few students from third or fourth year were playing some card game ("Aww, dumb ones. Hopefully Sev will catch them playing 'Exploding Snape'.") and on one of the couches, Pansy was openly fawning over Blaise, who fluttered his eyelashes tiredly at her ("Eww, gross ones. If I had eaten more, I'd consider throwing up ...").

"Yes, it was terrible," Blaise breathed, coughing delicately. "The monster was huge. I was lucky that I escaped with my life ..." He trailed off, closing his eyes. Pansy cooed over him immediately.

Draco sneered in disgust at the attention-seeking prat and his wannabe fiancée as he crossed the common room quickly. Nobody paid him any attention. Obviously it wasn't that uncommon that a disguised, hooded figure visited the Slytherin territory.

As Draco entered the hallways in the dungeons, he took a moment to breathe deeply. He had not the foggiest clue how to proceed. Should he ask his godfather for help? No, his father had strictly forbidden letting anyone in on the Family Hair Curse, even pseudo family members like Snape. And because Draco was sure he couldn't nick any potential hair gel from the Potions master without being noticed, the boy tried to think of other possibilities. The teachers, Filch, and Dumbledore were out of the question, and Pomfrey watched over her medical potions and gels like a hawk, which left ... the other Houses. Hufflepuffs were too natural to use gel or make-up and Ravenclaws were too clever to not somehow find out about Draco's curse. That being settled, the blond knew his choices were narrowed down quite drastically, considering that his own House had let him down already.

Steeling his fluttery nerves, Draco tried to blend in with the shadows in the hallways as he neared Gryffindor Tower for what he hoped was the first and last time in his life. He hadn't really realised his mistake until he found himself in the same corridor for the fifth time already.

"Darn," he cursed softly. "How am I supposed to *know* where Gryffindor Tower is when I was never there ..." That was a justified question.

"Looking for something in particular, kiddo?" a voice asked suddenly, causing Draco to repeat his performance from the common room. "Gryffindor Tower, by any chance?"

Forcing his heart to calm down, Draco looked for the source of the voice. The corridor was dark but the blond could make out a single painting lining the otherwise bare wall.

"Lumos," whispered Draco, pointing his wand at the painting. The glowing tip illuminated the picture of a landscape with ample rocks splattered around. But there was no person visible.

"Hey!" the voice croaked again. "Switch it off! The light blinds me! There's no sun in here and my eyes are sensitive!"

Draco muttered a disgruntled "Nox" and put his wand back.

"Ahh, that's better. Now, why don't you-"

"Do you or do you not know where Gryffindor Tower is?" Draco interrupted crossly. He didn't have the time to listen to the blabbering of one painting or another when his hair's welfare was in serious danger.

"Yes, I do."

There was a pause.

Draco waited for the painting to continue.

The painting waited for no obvious reason.

Finally, Draco snapped, "So? Where is it?" He didn't like being played for a fool, especially in times of hairy needs.

A quiet rustle could be heard. "It's down there."

Draco closed his eyes for a second. "Where?" he repeated forcefully.

There was another rustle. "Well, there! This way and then-"

Draco cut the painting off, "I don't *see* in which direction you're pointing, you dolt!"

"Oh," came the quiet voice. "Why didn't you say so? Humph. You turn to the left, no, the other left! Yes, then you follow the hallway straight till the second corridor to the right, then left and again left. You can't miss it."

"Straight, right, left, left, okay," Draco repeated and followed the instructions. On what was hopefully his way to Gryffindor Tower, the blond contemplated what he'd do once he reached his destination. He would most likely need to cast an Invisibility Charm on himself to sneak into the lion's den. Now, where was the likeliest place to get some strong hair gel?

As Draco trudged on noiselessly, an epiphany hit him with the force of Hagrid. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening as his mind recalled a distinct memory.

He had been in the library, leafing through some dark, uh, daft book for homework as Saint Potter and his two sidekicks had appeared. Not wanting to be seen, Draco had hidden behind his book. Curiosity, though, had gotten the better of him swiftly. What did the Golden Trio do in the library but researching something for their newest breaking of school rules?

Suppressing his gleeful cackling to a minimum, Draco had stayed still and observed his nemesis.

After ten minutes it had become clear that the know-it-all had only forced them to a NEWTs study session.

Vaguely disappointed, Draco wanted to surreptitiously leave the library, as the Weasel, obviously bored to tears, took some object from the desk to play with. Granger smacked the redhead and took her property back, putting the shiny object into her rucksack.

At that time, Draco hadn't drawn the right conclusions. Now, though, he was sure that he'd figured it out.

Oh, he could not have been more wrong.

:+:+:

Monday morning found an overly smug Draco Malfoy in Potions. He'd already sent his mother a request for more of his hair gel and he supposed that it would arrive in two days at the latest. For the time being, that was all right with him as he still had lots of the spare substance he'd stolen, uh, unknowingly borrowed from the bushy-haired know-it-all.

Happily stirring his cauldron, Draco couldn't remember a time when his hair had been more manageable. The blond smirked into his fist. His housemates would not know what hit them. He cackled silently. No one messed with Draco Malfoy's hair and got away unscathed.

"Ron!" Draco heard Granger hiss angrily from behind him. "You were in my rucksack again!"

The Slytherin snickered. Oh, trouble in paradise.

"I did no such thing!" the Weasel answered incredulously.

"Oh? And how come that something's missing? Something you said yourself your father was *very* interested in!"

"Just because dad collects everything Muggle, doesn't mean I steal your super thingy!"

"It's super glue, Ron, not super thingy!"

Draco snickered again. 'If she only knew,' he thought with a smirk.

Yes, if he only knew.

-End-