04. Hair
Lavender Brown & Parvati Patil
Lavender brushed Parvati's hair using long, even strokes, careful not to apply too much pressure. Too much pressure and the comb's teeth would dig into her scalp, too much pressure and the glossy hairs would break (too much pressure and Parvati would break).
Once upon a time, Lavender could've French braided the hair or tied it into an intricate knot. She could've teased it into a perfectly messy bun or charmed it to curl perfectly. But today, she just brushed it with slow, careful strokes.
War was a monster. A monster that kept Lavender subconsciously tracing her ugly ugly scars with one dainty finger. A monster that kept Parvati in the pits of despair.
Those nights after the war, more often than not, Parvati ended up sitting rigidly on the cold bathroom tile in her underwear, knees tucked behind her chin, looking into nowhere, completely nonresponsive.
And Lavender doesn't know why she picked up the comb and she doesn't know why she thought it would help, but she brushed Parvati's hair using long, even strokes, careful not to apply too much pressure, whispering I love you with every stroke.