Someone could pull all of Percival’s fingernails out, one by one, and it would be less painful than the conversation he was currently having with Lucius Malfoy. He thought, that by the sixth time, there would be simply no other ways to explain how the blonde styled his hair each morning, but then Lucius started on the seventh, and Percival let out an involuntary groan, quickly disguising it as a cough. “That’s ah -- fascinating stuff, mate.”

“Is your hair supposed to look like that?”