Blue [DRARRY]

Chapter 1

   "Merlin, don't be such a prat." Draco hissed to himself, tugging frustratedly at his hair.

   It was soft - too soft - and his fingers simply slipped right through. He'd been hiding behind this stupid stature for the best part of ten minutes now. He'd miss breakfast at this rate, and he needed to make his entrance now. If he just turned up to lessons, by lunch news would have spread, and it wouldn't be shocking anymore, so much as it would be everybody craning to get a look at him.

   He had to do it now.

   Taking a deep breath, and steeling himself for the stares he was going to get, Draco ruffled his hair, shook himself a little, then reluctantly approached the great hall.

   At first, nobody really noticed, and the chatter didn't even quieten. But Draco didn't pause at the entrance, walking straight in. It was the Slytherins who noticed first, their noise silencing as he approached the table, taking in his appearance. The way his trousers hung low on his hips, suggesting his belt lay forgotten in his dorm. The way his shirt had half-heartedly been tucked in, resulting in one half still hanging out. The way his tie hadn't quite been done properly, and was loose, giving an all round laid back aura. The way his robes had been left behind altogether. But most of all... the way his platinum blonde hair, usually slicked back to the point where it would barely budge if you touched it, was left to its own devices, curling at the base of his neck, and flopping unceremoniously into his eyes, slightly wavy. But on top of that... it was bright blue. More of a turquoise if you were going to be precise, but Draco knew the Slytherins weren't going to be. It wasn't green enough to be called green, so blue it was.

   It was strange how much it suited the boy, not that anybody would admit that. This was going to be one of those topics that nobody in his own house spoke about, and the Gryffindors would probably keep quiet too. As for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, they would likely just not care, and that was fine by Draco. In fact, he reckoned the sooner the stares stopped, the better. Of course it would take a while, but it would hopefully be worth the wait. He felt like Pansy Parkinson would spare him the spreading of gossip about it, if only to save her own skin. He didn't fancy himself likely to see much of her anymore.

   If she remained how she'd always been, then he was fine by that.

   He could only hope she'd leave him alone for now; Blaise too. He would have enough to deal with once Professor Snape-

   "Mr. Malfoy," a voice drawled, and Draco sighed.

   Think of the Devil? He must have upgraded.

   Draco plastered on a wide, hopefully patronising grin, and turned on the bench to look up at his Head of House.

   "Professor." He greeted silkily.

   "I don't strive to cause many theatrics here, Malfoy, but are you really foolish enough to think I could let this," he gestured in borderline disgust to Draco's hair, "slide?"

   "If course not, sir," Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "I did it anyway."

   "My office," Snape snarled, "eight thirty. Don't be late and anger me more."

   He didn't give the Slytherin boy chance to reply before stalking off.

   Draco simply turned back and began to eat.

   ---

   Draco thought it was funny. How, if people had questions about someone - or for someone - they would never go to the person who could provide the most effective answers; the people said questions concerned. They would instead ask others, and take their guesswork, or partial answers as complete. By lunch, Draco wanted to scream. Yell that he'd be happy to answer any and questions, so long as they went to him first. So long as they believed the answers he would give. That was an entirely new request altogether however.

   He'd heard a few whispers. Why had a Malfoy dyed his hair? Why blue? Was that intentional? Well thought out? Or just a random colour choice? Was he rebellion, and how serious of a rebellion was it? He'd heard a couple of seventh years on his way of the great hall after lunch. They were Ravenclaws, and he couldn't help but dislike them as soon as be heard them questioning each other in hushed voices on why the colour wasn't coming out when exposed to certain counter-charms. Draco seethed quietly to himself that they had no right to subject him to any magic without his consent, and the fact that they had tried to do as much proved that it had been a smart choice to use muggle hair dye. It had been easy to obtain, fairly easy to do, and saved him from the hassle of dealing with stupid Ravenclaw students, who apparently thought it was perfectly okay to mess with his personal choices, even if it meant violating him magically.

   The nerve of some people.

   None of this, of course, was said aloud. In fact, Draco pretended he hadn't heard them at all. Why cause more trouble? Besides, ha had enough of thag coming his way tonight when he went to see his godfather, who would surely have a lot to say. Draco hadn't even bothered to plan an excuse. What was the point? Snape would find a way to debunk it all. He wasn't actually sure which bothered him more. The fact that Snape seemed to be the only Professor bothered, or the fact that some of the Professors seemed to even appreciate his sudden change of demeanour literally overnight. But it wasn't anything particularly unexpected. He'd known from the beginning that this was going to be tough. Now it was just being proven.

   When it came to lessons, it was different again.  In some, he went completely ignored, which was fine by him. He spend these pleasantly peaceful moments doodling mostly. It calmed him, he found, which helped for those lessons in which a anything did was stare at him. They must have thought they were being subtle, but it would have been obvious even to someone trying not to pay attention. Draco could we with these lessons well enough by just simply getting on with his work, throwing his full attention into it. Or, in the cases where Potter was in his class, he could just focus his attention on him. Potter also seemed curious enough in Draco to stare, but he was much more subtle than the rest. Draco wouldn't have noticed it at all if it weren't for the fact that he was looking  right back. Grey eyes met green on multiple occasions throughout the lessons he had with the Gryffindors, and he found that Potter was less capable of hiding embarrassment than he was. Potter quite suited a blush; much more so when it wasn't accompanied by a scowl. Draco had noticed immediately that it was missing, and despite himself, smiled at the progress. Therefore, he'd also ended up smiling at Potter himself. Thankfully, the Gryffindor had done nothing more than adopt a shocked look before turning back round in his seat. He hadn't looked at Draco since, and that was fine by him - he could stare at the back of his head in peace.

   At eight twenty-nine that evening, Draco raised his fist to the door to Severus Snape's office, knocking loudly, and wishing for nothing more than  to sink into the floor.

   "Enter."