He adored her hair down.

It fell in long red waves, just past her shoulder blades, shimmering with the light from the torches. It meant she felt free, independent, superior. She could take over the world when her hair was down. She was everything, a goddess in her own right and everyone knew it.

When she left her hair down she hummed in the hallways. Students enjoyed it when her hair was down because it meant she was going to be fair and even in her punishments. They were days she was confident in herself and in the things she did. They were days where every answer was right, every stir of the potion exact, every movement of her wand crisp and clean.

Before they'd started dating his hands would itch with the need to run his hands through it. His eyes followed it, brushing against the crisp white shirt of her uniform or the muted grey of her jumper. Now he could bury his fingers in it while he kissed her senseless, or massage her head by tugging on it while they shared a care of magical creatures textbook.

Thus, hair down days were his favourite days.