"Please take it. I wouldn't have given it to you if I didn't want to. And it's not like I don't have the money." Malfoy was pleading and earnest in his bright knit cap, the wrapping paper decorated with skating Santas crinkling quietly up in one long-fingered hand, his eyes wide and beseeching, clear starbursts of greys. "I want you to have it. Besides –" And he reached out and tugged gently on a lock of her long, admittedly rather untamed hair, which spilled down over her shoulders. Her scalp tingled in a nice way. "– You need a good hair stylist."