I think this came about because I've been twirling my hair every since I can remember... and I can't stop.
Twirl
It didn't really matter that she was gesticulating wildly about her Transfiguration mark.
It wasn't extremely important that her right eye was in a constant state of twitchiness.
And who would really care that her right big toe kept scratching her left leg in irritation?
No – the only valid thing in this world was the fact that he was twirling her hair between his fingers. That she was gesticulating to him and not to her fellow seventh-year girls.
The only effectual routine now included her in his arms and his fingers about her fiery hair, soothing her equally flammable temper.
And when she leans up to kiss his chin after letting off steam, he couldn't care less that her arms are still crossed – because he knows she will loosen up and end up laughing with ease in about ten minutes. She will ask if he wants to play a game of Exploding Snap, kiss his temple, and flounce onto the floor in front of the fire and admit that all was well.
But for now, James was content to twirl her soft hair between his rough fingers and hear her troubles.
Because after six years of waiting, did ten minutes really seem that bad?