Rabastan's fingertips brushed against the stray hairs that were slipping out of the severe hairstyle she had her locks twisted into. Part of the costume that made her "Madam Dolohov the fearsome interrogator', she wasn't foolish enough to leave her hair long where anyone could grab it while she was working. Too many painful lessons learned the hard way. He gently pushed them behind her ear, taking care not to let the curls snag on his fingers. It was an act he'd done without thought for years. Though it never bothered her before, Antonin's warning about her Co-Head rang through her mind. He was unpredictable, dangerous. She had to be careful.