“Truly, Draco, this reaction is completely inappropriate for the situation,” Narcissa admonished as she held tightly to her young son’s hand, doing her best to not physically drag him through Hogsmeade to her hairdresser. “You are getting a haircut, and no amount of protests or tantrums will change my mind on the matter.”
“I don’t want to get my haircut, Mother,” Draco complained, looking seconds away from digging in his heels and dropping to the ground in a full-out pout.
“And pray tell, why?” the normally calm blonde witch nearly said in a huff of frustration. She stopped at the corner of the block just 10 meters from the prestigious establishment her husband had approved of when she told him she wanted a new hairdresser for them all.
The last had been involved in a prostitution scandal, and it simply wouldn’t do to be involved with them in any way.
“I don’t like people touching my head,” Draco began. She could tell there was more to it, but Draco had a habit of only giving bits at a time. It was similar to the Muggle expression “like pulling teeth.” Crude, but accurate.
“You will have to get over it then, dear. People will be touching you throughout life. You are beginning to look scruffy. Worse than your cousin, Sirius Black.”
Draco’s cheeks puffed out as he flushed in outrage but stubbornly refused to retort.
“You have dead and split ends,” Narcissa continued, reaching out to grab up a chin-length lock to bring up to her son’s blue-eyed gaze. The ends of his usually silky hair were frayed and frizzy, a true disgrace to his inherited thick and luxurious tresses. “Soon you won’t be able to brush your hair. You’ll have to rely on someone else to do it for you, or you’ll go around looking like rats have made homes of your hair.”
With every statement, Draco became more and more resentful, scowling the best he could. The effect was ruined by his cute little cheeks and pretty blue eyes, however. Narcissa suspected she would never think of her son as fierce, no matter how old he grew to be.
“But they are too loud in that building, it smells funny, and what if my hair doesn’t grow back! They always to tell me to sit still so they don’t cut too short because they can’t glue it back,” Draco complained further, determined to find some reason that would convince his mother.
“I specifically requested this day because they are not as busy on Saturdays, so the noise level will be at a more acceptable volume,” Narcissa said patiently. “The last salon we had smelled funny because it was part of an unsavory, dirty business we did not know about until too late. There is no reason for your hair to not grow back. You will be fine. Nothing bad will happen, Draco.”
With that, she started tugging him along again.
“Harry likes my hair long!” Draco blurted.
Ah, there it was. What was likely the real reason he didn’t want a haircut.
“Draco, we are only going in for a trim. I just want the dead and split ends taken off. Yes, your hair will be shorter than before, but it will grow back, and it will be all the healthier for it.” She released his hand and gently stroked her hand over the top of his head. “I promise Harry will still love you, even if your hair is a few centimeters shorter.”
She managed to cajole him into the sleek establishment. There were only three hairdressers within, and a few more customers, some waiting, some already in their seats. Narcissa approached the receptionist to check in for her appointment; as always, she had arrived exactly on time. As she spoke to the young witch at the desk, she heard a voice that was like music to her ears.
Harry came running from where Lily Potter nee Evans was having her hair trimmed, black hair flopping around his face as he scurried across the room to hug Draco. Lily turned her head and smiled at the betrothed children, then at Narcissa. Narcissa walked to Lily while the hairdresser scheduled to care after her and Draco finished her prior client.
“How does Harry handle getting his hair cut, Lily?” Narcissa inquired after the usual greetings and pleasantries.
“Oh we don’t bother trying to shorten it, just trim the edges so there’s no dead ends,” Lily replied, facing the mirror again so the hairdresser could resume her work. It appeared that Lily had decided to go for a slightly shorter hairstyle and to have the thick mass thinned so it was more manageable. “It grows back to the same length all the time, ever since he was a babe. I imagine that he decides on the length he likes subconsciously, and his magic takes care of the rest.” Green eyes flashed back to Narcissa. “Why do you ask?”
By then, Draco and Harry have wandered back to where their mothers were, arms linked like a miniature version of clingy teenage lovers. Narcissa ruffled Harry’s hair in greeting, delighting in his bright smile.
“Draco has a few misgivings about getting his hair trimmed,” she remarked in answer to her future in-law. “He’s afraid it won’t grow back.”
“Draco, I’ll hold your hand while you get your haircut,” Harry offered, eyes bright and wide as he looked to the blonde toddler. “No one will mess up your hair if I watch and make sure they do it right.”
A few of the other ladies there in the salon cooed at the undeniably adorable scene, and Narcissa was hard pressed to not crack her face open in the largest grin ever.
“Okay, but only if you hold my hand,” Draco agreed, blushing but doing his best to be firm, as though this had been his plan all along, regardless of the fact that they’d not known the Potters were getting their hair done as well.
“Looks like we’ll have to correspond hair appointments, Narcissa,” Lily said as they watched their sons go with the slender middle-aged witch to the chair she had magically adjusted for the small Malfoy boy to sit in. Harry dragged over a stool so that he could stand beside Draco’s chair and hold his hand.
Syncing their appointments at a hair salon would be only the smallest of changes they would make. Narcissa would count her blessings if most of her son’s life challenges were as easily fixed as this.