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Story Notes:
The fancy dress robes are lying over the back of the chair. Red high heels are in a pile by the trunk. The pretty silks scarf that Padma bought during a recent trip to India is hanging over the open door of the wardrobe. Harry shrugs off his robe and lets them fall on the floor, not particularly concerned if they get wrinkled or not. Parvati makes a tsking noise from where she’s seated at the vanity, grinning at him when he catches her gaze in the mirror.

He walks up behind her and watches her wipe off the make-up that he finds so unnecessary. She’s lovely without it, but she never listens to him when he tells her that he doesn’t see the need for it. It’s a woman’s prerogative to want to look beautiful regardless of what men say, she always tell him with a mischievous smile that generally puts him in his place and distracts him from topics of cosmetics anyway.

While she’s cleaning off her eye make-up, he reaches up to remove the butterfly pin keeping her hair in place. Long black locks fall down her back once he’s released it, and he runs his fingers through the softness. He loves seeing with her hair down. She hands him the brush without a word, and he smiles as he takes it and begins to brush her hair. He watches her face as he brushes, falling a little more in love with every stroke of his hand.