In which Draco sits on the couch and Harry walks past him and Draco’s head snaps up, because he *knows* that scent. And Draco gets so P I S S E D because, “Potter! Do you have any idea how expensive that shampoo is! It’s custom-made! And here you are, wasting it on that untamable mop of yours!” Also, there’s this other minor detail. Of course, Draco couldn’t care less about it, but… now Potter doesn’t smell like Potter anymore and… wait, did he just say that out loud? Well shit!
After that, Draco gets flustered on a daily basis.
“Potter, why are you standing so close to me? We’re doing the dishes, there’s no need for your arm to touch mine.”
“Potter, if you want to read the paper, wait your turn, don’t read it over my shoulder.”
“Potter, stay on your side of the couch!”
Of course, Harry doesn’t. And eventually, Draco stops complaining. Well, he doesn’t exactly stop complaining…
“Potter, my skin is all chafed because of your stubble.”