7. Don't tell them, or worse yet, show them, their imperfections.

Ginny

“Ew.”

“What?”

“You've got a pimple on your face. I slept next to that all night.”

“What? Where?”

“Right there. I thought as you got older, you don't get pimples anymore.”

“Shove it, Malfoy.”

“Don't worry, darling. With a simple charm, all will be forgotten.”

“Absolutely not! That leads to scarring. Let me make a potion for it.”

“I don't think so, love. Remember in your sixth year, you tried to make a potion to get rid of your skin problem? Your entire face-“

“SHUT UP, MALFOY! YOU DON'T HAVE TO REMIND ME, YOU ARSE!”

“Meep.”

“Go make it for me, then, if you're so good at it. Go on.”

“If you wish.”

Draco headed to the kitchen, preparing the materials. He pulled things from the shelves, the cabinets and the fridge.

“Unicorn feather, unicorn feather, unicorn feather… Where are you?” he muttered to himself.

“Top shelf, you ponce.”

“Ah. Thank you, love.”

He plucked up the remaining ingredient and set it on the counter. He pulled out the old cauldron and poured two cups of dragon syrup with a pinch of faerie dust. He stirred it for a few minutes before throwing in two veela hairs. Last, he dropped in the unicorn feather. With a distinct `pop' sound, it was done. He scooped some up into a small vial and headed back upstairs.

“Here you go.”

“Care to hand me a cotton swab?”

He sighed before walking to the bathroom and handed her a q-tip.

“Anything else, princess?”

“Mirror.”

He was getting slightly irritated. He accioed the mirror over to her, where she was busying herself with dipping the cotton swab into the vial. With the assistance of the mirror, she dabbed the concoction on her blotch. In seconds, it disappeared.

“Thanks, darling.”

Draco

He yawned obnoxiously, smacking his lips to see if they were as soft as last night. Still good. He ran a hand through his hair before slipping on his robe and slippers, heading to the loo. He did his morning routine. He used the toilet, brushed his teeth and took a shower. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. Handsome stud, you.

“You've got wrinkles,” the mirror cackled.

He paused. The mirror was lying. Right? He stared a little closer.

“There's nothing there.”

“You just don't want to admit that the Malfoys have imperfections.”

“That's because we don't.”

“Then you're just a defect.”

“Shut up! I don't have wrinkles. Those are for old people.”

“How old are you, Malfoy? You can get wrinkles at any age. In your case, you have them on your forehead. Three of them, to be exact.”

He got even closer to the mirror, up the point where his breath was on his reflection. He gasped.

“It's true!” he squealed.

“I told you, you ugly ponce.”

He was on the verge of tears. His father didn't even have wrinkles yet! This couldn't be happening. He must call father.

“What's with the yelling?” Ginny yawned as she walked in.

He squeaked before pushing past her to the fireplace. He threw in floo powder and whispered, “Lucius Malfoy.” Lucius' sleepy face popped into sight.

“What do you want, son of mine? I wasn't to be up for another half hour so make it snappy.”

“I've got wrinkles,” he muttered forlornly.

“What was that? My hearing wasn't what it was seven years ago. Speak up, boy!”

“I've got wrinkles!” he screamed.

“This is what you disturbed my sleep for?”

“But, father! You don't understand! I have three of them!”

Lucius sighed. His son would never grow up…

“Just use the concealmente charm. Works wonders. Now leave me alone.”

“Thank you.”

He pulled out from the fireplace where Ginny was standing, holding back her grin.

“Wrinkles, eh? I see them, now that you mention it.”

“I'm ugly! Don't look at me or you'll be ugly too and I won't be able to love you anymore!”

“Oh, shut your face. Concealmente. There. It's all gone.”

He ran to the closest mirror. She was good.

“Now I'm sexy again. Let's go have sex.”

“Bugger off.”