Harry Potter hated long, perfectly manicured fingernails.
Hermione found that out a few weeks after she'd made a New Year's resolution to stop her nervous habit of biting her fingernails. She found a temporary charm for making things taste bad and cast it on her nails to stop herself from chewing on them.
He noticed immediately. She grabbed his hand one day, and he instantly let go, staring down at her fingers like they'd grown eyes. "What in the hell did you do to your nails?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and lifted her hands. Her fingernails were longer and filed to perfect ovals, and they gleamed with clear varnish. "I stopped chewing my nails. Why? Don't they look better?"
He shrugged. "I s'pose. I liked them better before."
"They were ragged and awful before!"
"Bitter, fake old hags have long fingernails, Hermione," he explained, stroking her knuckles absently. "Every ancient croaker that's ever tried to be my new best mate has long fingernails. My...my aunt had them, too. It's just...not you."
"Harry..." she was wavering, and he knew it. "It's a nasty habit."
"Cut them, then. But keep them short. For me? Please?" He glanced up at her through those long black lashes with those glowing green eyes, and she caved.
"You're impossible, you know that?"
"Yeah, I do."
(A/N: Another one of mine. It's fun to write these, but you know what would be even more fun? *drumroll* Requests from you guys, out there! I promise I don't bite!...Hard!)