Catalysts. HARRY POTTER.
This is how Fleur deals with it.
PG
When the war ended, Fleur cut her hair short enough that she had trouble adjusting to the weight, or rather lack of it, around her head. It bobbed around her chin and jaw and strands of it found their way into her eyes and - if Bill felt like being spontaneous - into her mouth.
He lamented the loss of those eleven or twelve inches when they started one of their teasing matches. Fleur suspected those were due more to giddy relief that it was actually over and that they could start something so frivolous.
Most people couldn’t believe it was over.
And that was the reason Fleur cut her hair.
Not that she told anyone.
She hadn’t told them when the subject came up after one of the Burrow dinners.
(“It’s very twenties,” suggested Molly, trying to look as if she actually approved of Fleur’s existence.
“It’s not,” said Ginny. “It’s more like those hairstyles they had in the sixties. You know, the futuristic ones. The models all wore the same thing and they all had hair like that…”
“Why did you cut your hair, Fleur?” asked Fred with a grin like he was only barely restraining a dirty joke.
She shrugged. “I wanted to.”
The twins looked immensely disappointed. Fleur giggled at their expressions, which seemed to cheer them up.)
She hadn’t told Harry either, though Harry really hadn’t asked and actually might have deserved the answer if he had.
(“’arry!” she called, stepping out of the large, heavy doors and onto the steps leading up to Gringott’s.
“Fleur,” he said pleasantly, looking up at her. “You cut your hair?”
She shrugged, attempting, and failing, not to be annoyed. “Yes.”
Harry was apparently more perceptive than she thought. “You work here?”
“No - I work at ‘ogwarts now. I visit Bee-Bill sometimes.” She tilted her head. “I thought you were still traveling?”
“I am,” said Harry. “I’m supposed to talk to one of the goblins about…something.”
Fleur smiled. “If you get a chance, feel free to drop in on us, alright?”
“Of course,” said Harry. “I’ll see you later.”
He never did drop by.)
Fleur’s hair grew back quickly, a side effect of veela blood. It took a year for it to return to the flowing silver curtain it had been. She cut it again when Bill proposed, but there wasn’t a reason the second time
except that she was getting tired of it long.
After all, everyone had realized it was over by then.
Original.
Notes: Commentary for this fic can be found here