Hey, everyone. This is another short drabble-esque story that's been plaguing my mind. Plot bunnies are rabbit little beasts. Actually started out as my outlook about the great debate of hot vs. handsome. Which I was thinking of while trying to sleep. I wrote it down and then realized it was a lot like a fanfic I was writing. I decided then and there I had to finish it, put it into context and subject it to scrutiny.

I will never own anything more of Harry Potter large amounts of merchandise.

Takes place after Hogwarts, whenever, doesn't really matter. Somewhat of a companion peace to Simply Beautiful, though it's perfectly suitable as a stand alone. Hope you enjoy it!

Handsome

She remembered listening to other girls swoon over him, talking about how hot he was, late at night by the common room fire or in the secret darkness of their dorms. She'd always laughed about this, and they'd ask why. She would shake her head and say no, he was not hot, he was handsome. They would scowl disapprovingly, and promptly ignore her, deciding immediately that she was deluded or boringly disinterested.

But by her definition, she was quite correct. He was not hot at all, but he was infinitely handsome.

In her opinion hot was a man's hair, his eyes, his body. It was right now, right there, just look at him. But handsome was different.

Handsome was his smile. It was the way his eyes looked when he was happy. It was how his hair was still endearing no matter how mussed up it got. Handsome was strong arms, not a chiseled body. It was all his quirks, all his faults, all his seeming perfections. Handsome was his laugh and his voice and the way he looked when he'd trip or make a mistake. It was watching his seventh year self help a lost first year find their way to Charms, and seeing the tender warmth in his eyes as the young student said a quick thank you before rushing off.

Handsome was the way the moonlight reflected off his face, or how he looked when he was lost in thought. It was the little crease in his forehead when something didn't make sense to him. Or the way he would pretend he was tired and would make poor attempts at staving off yawns to stay up and talk with her late into the night.

Handsome was how he acted and appeared every moment of every day. It was everything he did, mistakes and victories, regardless. Other girls did not understand handsome, because they did not understand what it was to love him.

She did, she thought with a smile, as he gently took her head and lead her out onto the dance floor, their wedding song playing in the background. She was vaguely aware of everything around them, she was acutely aware of the look on his face, in his eyes.

She had always preferred handsome to hot. It lasted a lifetime.

The End

I hope you guys enjoyed reading it; I really enjoyed writing this one. As always when I write ambiguous stories like this, I ask that you give your opinion on the characters portrayed. I apologize for any grammatical errors myself and my computer don't pick up. My beta's not on right now and I just want to post these two stories.

Flames are used for fuel and for chemistry experiments. Actually, I don't mind flaming, as long as you've got a reason to go with, because if you just tell me you hated it, I can hardly expect to do a better job next time, can I?

Keep it rolling,

AkaOkamiRyu