Inspired by the pictures for the movie!Epilogue. Now with better formatting! I still don't know what I did wrong there. Thanks to my betas, written for the dracoawards. Again, I spell it Asteria because that's how JKR spells it on the family tree.

Shock

"Getting a bit thin on top, aren't we, dear?"

Feeling as if he'd been hit with a hex, Draco turned around slowly, one hand still clutching the towel around his waist. "What did you say?"

"Your hair, dear, your hair," the mirror replied. "Seems like there's more of it in your brush than on your head, these days."

Gaping at the mirror in disbelief, he felt a sick, sinking feeling in his stomach. "No, it's... no."

It was the haircut, Draco assured himself as he ran his fingers through his too-fine hair. That hamfisted cow had thinned it and cut it too short in some places. Darting his head from side to side as he tried to get a good look at the crown, he noticed there was more scalp showing than before. While he still had hair there - thank God - there was not enough of it for his liking.

"Just a bad cut, that's all," he said, shaken and unsettled.

"Of course, dear."

Denial

"I'm thinking of growing my hair out," Draco told his wife over tea that afternoon. "Maybe I'll try something new and wear it long."

Her reaction was not as encouraging as he would have liked and her voice was far too gentle as she repeated, "Long?"

"Yes, long. The way my father wore it when he was younger." Lucius hadn't worn it that way in decades. After Azkaban he seemed to prefer it shorter; these days his hair barely brushed his shoulders. "About mid-back but no longer."

"Just like your father then, how nice," she said weakly. That same stiff smile returned to her face. "It would take a while for it to grow that long, don't you think?"

Pursing his lips, he wondered why Asteria didn't just come out and say it. "No, not really, since we're wizards and not Muggles. There are potions that would let me have my hair that long in a month."

"Right." Her eyes flicked up to his hairline. "I must be honest, I really don't think long hair would look as good on you as short hair does."

Draco huffed. She wasn't even trying. "Well, that's a pity but it's my hair."

"Your hair?" And from the edge in her voice, he could tell she was remembering the time she toyed with cutting her own hair and he complained for three days until she abandoned the idea. "Well, maybe a change is in order. Perhaps, I'll cut my hair short, maybe the length yours is now?"

He returned her smile, drawling, "Go right ahead, darling."

More fool her then, if she thought she'd be hurting him more than herself. One of the very first things he'd discovered about her during their many romps in bed was how much she loved having her haired played with, even pulled. Sometimes, he wondered if she enjoyed certain acts and positions just because he'd be more likely to thread his fingers through her hair and tug on it while she arched her back and moaned for more.

If she ever went through with it, she'd be borrowing his hair-growth elixir in a week.

Asteria sipped her tea. "And perhaps Charm it as well, I've been toying with the idea for a while."

That wasn't funny. "Charm it?"

"Another color. I was thinking red. A really bright, eye-catching red." He knew it was just the reaction she wanted but he couldn't help frowning at the very idea of his wife Charming her lovely dark hair so she'd look like a missing Weasley spawn. It was grotesque.

A smug little smile played on her lips. "What do you think?"

He left the table without another word.

Anger

It simply wasn't fair.

Draco watched the two pass by, utterly oblivious to him as they wove through the crowd of shoppers looking for that perfect Christmas present. It sickened him to notice that other than the streak of gray at the front, Potter looked much the same as ever with his hair the same mess it had always been. Beside him, Weasley had grown even more hirsute with his shaggy hair and beard and now resembled a large orange gorilla.

He felt his face grow hot. It wasn't fair. They were the same age as him. They'd been through almost as much as he had; Potter, perhaps, slightly more after being raised by those filthy Muggles of his. Why weren't they worse for wear? If it weren't for the gray in Potter's hair, they wouldn't even look their age!

It wasn't fucking fair. He was twenty-eight years old! He shouldn't have to worry about seeing more of his hair in the bathroom sink and on his pillow than on his head. He shouldn't have nightmares where he was completely bald. He shouldn't have to wake up in the morning clutching his head as if trying to protect what was left of his hair. He was twenty-eight fucking years old and he was losing his hair. It wasn't the haircut, it wasn't his diet, and it would only get worse from here.

Feeling as if he might Crucio the next person who so much looked at him the wrong way, Draco marched towards the apothecary. He wasn't going to accept this.

Bargaining

"Well, aren't we looking dapper today," the mirror said while he preened in front of it.

"Thank you," Draco answered with a broad smile, running a hand through his thick head of hair. The tonic had been worth every Knut; he hadn't had hair like this since he was a child. He wasn't even worried about the side-effects. He had never had heart problems and was willing to change his diet a bit to ensure that he didn't. Asteria would appreciate that, she'd was always on him to eat better.

Adjusting his cravat, he flashed a cocky grin at the mirror. "Don't wait up."

Several hours later, while Asteria slept in their bed, Draco entered the bathroom. Casting a Silencing Spell on the mirror, he grabbed the tonic from the cabinet and dumped its contents down the toilet.

The first sign that something had gone horribly wrong came two hours before. His wife had been straddling him, grinding slowly against him with her skirt pushed up to her hips and her tits pressed against his chest as she kissed his neck and ran her hands over him.

Nothing had happened.

He had tried not to panic, hoping it was only the wine slowing him down.

Twenty minutes after that, his dick still limp despite her best efforts, he'd had to concede it was not the alcohol.

Draco vanished the bottle and sat down on the edge of the tub, head in his hands.

Depression

Once he had stopped the potion, the new hair had fallen out as well. For the past few days, he'd felt like a dog shedding its winter coat. The worst of it was that people who had not noticed his hair loss before, definitely noticed it now, commenting on his "new haircut."

"That's new," his father said mildly, gaze darting to Draco's chin.

"I've decided to grow a goatee." He hoped it would take some attention off his hair.

Lucius nodded at this, his face a mask of polite concern. "Your mother used to tell me how your grandfather fussed over his beard. Apparently, he trimmed it twice a day and the house-elves had to spend an hour every morning combing it to ensure not a hair was out of place."

Draco had never known Cygnus as both his maternal grandparents had died before he was born. But he had seen the pictures. He remembered how his Grandfather's beard had grown another inch as more and more hair had disappeared from the top of his head until, in his final portrait, his grandfather had been completely bald with a snowy white beard that had reached his navel.

With a dull ache he realized that was the future that awaited him.

"I suppose we all need our little amusements," his father added, turning away from Draco to watch Scorpius play in the snowy garden. Draco studied his profile, noting that his white hair was long enough that he could pull it back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

It simply wasn't fair.

Testing

While there were spells for shaving, every week he liked to do it the Muggle way with a razor and cream. All Asteria's fault, she'd once offered to do it for him, telling him that St. Mungo's had taught its Healers and Nurses how just in case they couldn't master the spell. To his great surprise, he had enjoyed it. Not just the feeling of sitting back and being pampered while Asteria fussed over him but the shave itself.

Splashing water on his face, he grabbed the nearest towel and patted his face dry. His wife would be pleased at least. She hadn't said anything to him about his hair or beard after their last discussion on the subject but he could tell she hadn't been a fan of the goatee.

He gazed in the mirror, tilting his head so he could look at his hair from every angle possible. It wasn't so bad.

Picking up the brush, he tried a deeper side part. Satisfied, he slicked it back like he had when he was younger. Not bad at all.

"Good to see you moving on, dear," the mirror chirped.

Draco sneered in response.

Acceptance

He'd had his hair cut this morning; short and tidy. He was losing his hair and there was little he could do about it.

"You look very nice," his wife murmured, running a hand over his shoulders. Draco smiled. He wasn't sure what it was but Asteria loved seeing him in a waistcoat.

She laid a soft kiss on the crown of his head and he rolled his eyes. Before he could comment on it, however, she pressed against him and whispered in his ear, "I hope you're staying for lunch."

All said, things could be worse.