A/N: Takes place after the war. AU.
Corrugated: shaped into a series of regular folds that look like waves.
Corrugated
He doesn't like her hair now.
He watches her as she talks with someone and glares at her hair from behind as he stands stiffly, drink in hand at the one of the many galas he was forced to attend. As if feeling him stare at her, she turns, only to meet his glare. She looks surprised for a minute and then starts walking towards him.
He finishes his drink and walks slowly, with elegance and poise like he was taught to and opens the door to the balcony. She joins him a minute after and opens her mouth to speak.
"I don't like your hair. Right now, I mean. It looks like a corrugated roof, for Merlin's sake! It is way too symmetrical and bloody artificial. It just doesn't seem like … you." He says before she could speak.
"Oh, is that so? Pray tell me, how do you know what seems like me? You don't know me, Malfoy. Not that much." She says with her eyes narrowed. He steps closer to her, so close that he could smell her hair.
"On the contrary, I do know you, Granger. Your friends, they see but they do not observe. I know how your hair looks like when you've been running your fingers through it out of frustration. I know when you don't bother to brush your hair properly when you wake up late and instead bundle it all up in a bun."
"Well, everyone can't be perfect, Malfoy. Except for you." She mumbles the last bit under her breath and he leans down and even though he heard it perfectly, asks, "Sorry, I didn't catch that last bit. What did you say?" He says smirking.
Her cheeks redden and she mumbles, "Except for you."
He leans down even further, so that his lips brush hers when he whispers, "And you." And he slowly kisses her. He only means for it to be a short kiss but like every other time when he kisses her, it deepens. And as she responds with fervor, he opens his mouth to sigh and she slips her tongue in. Their tongues battle for dominance in a war in which there were no losers, only victors and the battlefield was each other's mouths. His hands move to her hair, mussing it up, the movement of his hands increasing with the frenzy of their tongues. They break apart, gasping for breath and grin at each other like lovestruck teenagers, only they truly were lovestruck teenagers.
He notices her hair and his goofy grin stretches to impossible limits. He leans down and whispers in her ear, "Now, your hair is perfect." She blushes and tries to pat down the brown whirlwind that is her hair. He turns and opens the balcony door. She suddenly stops in her frantic (and futile) attempts to smoothen her hair, as if remembering something.
"Hang on; did you quote a muggle writer?"
A/N: Read and Review! Virtual cookies for those who understand which author it was and which line it was! *wink wink*
