The question seemed ill-timed, though Draco realised that it was probably just for Potter to keep himself distracted, having just admitted that he was squeamish about it.<br/>The long hair had never been a conscious decision, rather it was just something that had happened to him as time went by. He had always vehemently been against anything that could make people compare him to his father, having a visceral reaction to the idea; yet the hair had just grown on him.<br/>“It happens,” he said, as he placed the knife back on his desk, grabbing his wand in the process and immediately started on the spell. It was highly complicated magic, and Draco desperately needed to be able to concentrate. He felt that he had already done more than enough harm to Potter, so the least that he could do was to get this spell right.<br/>His hands were moving between the open wound he had just made on Potter’s arm and the open vial he had on his desk, softly muttering the incantation as he went. It took a while, but eventually soft silvery threads started appearing, causing a sigh of relief to flow through Draco, even as he kept his focus on the work at hand.