Word count: 692

Most days, Gabrielle doesn't mind the whispers. After all, she's spent these past twenty-three years living her life with Veela blood in her veins. Of course people talk; of course they speculate how she only has so many admirers because they cannot resist her. Over the years, Gabrielle has learned to tune them out, but it feels so overwhelming today.

I hear she seduced that Creevey boy, someone at The Leaky Cauldron had noted when Gabrielle walked by. Poor boy never stood a chance.

Dennis loves her. She tells herself that over and over again. Why would he be with her if he didn't? She's only a quarter Veela, not nearly enough to force someone to love her against their will.

But what if? What if she's wrong? After all, it's been a year, and they haven't even had a single fight. Aren't fights normal in moderation? All he ever does is compliment her, and, as nice as that is, she can't help but wonder if maybe it's because she's too beautiful that he can't see her flaws.

This is ridiculous, and she knows it, but she stands in front of the mirror, removing the red ribbon from her silver-blonde hair. Her hand trembles, but she does not falter. Her fingers curl around the clippers.

She's seen her boyfriend use these things a dozen times, but she isn't completely sure she's watched and paid attention enough to actually know what she's doing. That doesn't stop her. The clippers hum and buzz as she passes them over her head. A clump of hair falls to the floor, a pale pool against the cold tiles.

Her eyes shift to the mirror, narrowing and critically assessing the cut. It looks even enough, she supposes, though, really, she has no idea. There's nothing to do except to finish, so she moves them through again, leaving behind a patch of barely-there hair sticking out from her skin.

Again. Again. Again. She doesn't stop until her beloved locks are no more, just useless strands on the floor.

Her nose wrinkles as she takes in her reflection. She is still lovely, but there's something about the close-cropped cut that takes something away from her beauty. At least, to her it does. She hopes Dennis will hate it; at least then she'll know it isn't just her Veela heritage that has him wrapped around her finger. At least she'll know he really sees her.

She touches her fingers to the necklace around her neck, a silver locket Dennis had given her after four months. He had told her he loved her for the first time that day, and she had believed him without question. She only hopes he means it after all.

…

"Gabi?" Dennis frowns as he takes her in, head tilting to the side. "What the hell did you do to your hair?"

Gabrielle can feel the relief wash over her when she hears his tone. Deep down inside, she's grateful that he sounds confused rather than disgusted. Her cheeks heat with a soft blush. "You do not like it?" she asks.

Dennis considers for a moment before shrugging. "It's a bit uneven," he answers. "I could touch it up for you if you'd like."

She can see the sincerity in his expression. Of course he loves her. Of course she didn't seduce him. How could she be so ridiculous? With a laugh, she confesses everything. By the end of the story, Dennis still looks confused, but a crooked smile tugs at his lips.

"Was it worth it?" he asks. "I know how much you love your hair."

Gabrielle laughs. "It's just hair. I have a potion that can grow it back," she tells him before reaching out and pulling him into a hug. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

"I love you, Gabrielle," he says, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "I love you for you. Don't ever forget that."

And she makes a silent promise to herself, vowing that she won't, that she will always remember how much Dennis loves her. Less importantly, she vows not to shave her head again just to prove a point.