Of Monsters, Of Men

Chapter 11

"Get up before you sleep through your shower time."

Harry groaned and sank deeper into the covers. Tom threw the covers off of him and Harry yelped as cold air enveloped his body. Harry opened his eyes, squinting at a freshly-showered Tom with his wet hair.

"Mmmhrg," muttered Harry, wishing he was smothering his face in the sheets as he sat up and stretched his arms.

"The clock is ticking."

Harry narrowed his eyes at their clock. It read half past seven. His assigned shower block was from 7:40 to 7:50. He snatched his glasses and adjusted them on his face, scrambling off the bed.

"Keep talking and I'll be all out of time," Harry muttered snidely, rushing to gather his toiletries.

Tom ignored him.

Harry spun around and frowned at Tom, holding his shower caddy (really, it was just a battered cardboard box) and towel.

Whatever. I don't have time for his antics.

Not wanting to waste more time, Harry rushed to the second year bathroom, groaning internally when he saw it was occupied. Through the opened door, Selwyn was busy brushing his teeth. A sore sight for sore eyes. Selwyn gave him the stink eye in the mirror as Harry entered scowling.

Putting down the box, Harry grabbed his shampoo and hung his towel on top of the shower door as he entered the sixth shower stall. After a short wash, he reached out and slung the tower around his waist. Thankfully, Selwyn had left.

Walking to his box, he returned the shampoo and glanced around again. Tom was entering as well, no doubt intent on fixing his hair. Somehow, Tom's sauntering into the bathroom deepened the scowl on Harry's face. Harry reached into the box and fumbled around until he found a smooth plastic pot. Brylcreem.

Brylcreem was a muggle pomade that Tom and Harry used on a daily basis, because, well, looks were everything in Slytherin. And because Tom wouldn't be caught dead using something so disgustingly muggle, he waited until no one was in the bathroom—after Harry's shower block (breakfast began at eight)—to style his hair.

Harry hurried over to the sink at the far end and unscrewed the lid. Lifting out a dime sized amount, he toyed with the product, unwilling to hand it over to Tom's outstretched hand. At Tom's impatient flat expression, he sighed sharply through his nose, glaring from the corner of his eye as he shoved the Brylcreem into Tom's palm.

Harry glowered and massaged the product into his hair, combing it to the side. He watched as Tom did the same whilst staring intensely into the mirror and inspecting his looks. Oddly enough, the sight of his friend made something twist unpleasantly in Harry's chest, and he had to take a long, slow breath to calm himself.

Christ, Harry thought, a frown pulling at the corners of his lips. Why am I so annoyed with Tom today?

In a great rush, Harry quickly washed his face and brushed his teeth. Because they were assigned the last two slots on the shower schedule, they usually had the bathroom to themselves. The isolation was an undoubted blessing, but it meant that every day was a struggle to be on time to breakfast, which began only ten minutes after Harry's shower finished.

Harry hurriedly gathered all of his supplies and hastily shoved them back into the box. Sprinting to his dorm with his towel in one hand and shower caddy in the other, he set them down, changed into his underclothes, and shrugged his robes on. He grabbed his wand and bag, and he shut the door tightly and ran to meet Tom, who was waiting for him at the end of the hallway.

Irritation pulling his brows into an angry furrow, Harry forced himself to keep pace with Tom's quick steps to Great Hall, which was filled by loud chatter and hushed whispers. But when he found a familiar head of close-cropped strawberry blond hair in the crowded corridor, Harry's eyes brightened.