Must Have Done Something Right / Scorbus

Chapter 4 / Mirror, Mirror, Quit Making Me Blush!

The prospect of having to spend a substantial amount of time with Claire Zabini until well into next year was not appealing. Laying aside the fact that Albus hardly knew her, her ability to talk non-stop was enough to make his head feel like it had recently acquired a Bludger as a house guest. He spent only a little over an hour with her in the Potions classroom, but seventy minutes with her was more than enough. He cringed when he thought of their scheduled weekly meet-ups to begin their research.
Albus hated Slughorn.
Raking his fingers through his scruffy hair, he sat back against the deep green Slytherin couch and stared into the embers of the fire that were slowly dying. Much like my life, he thought, sighing dramatically.
"Mate, I told you before you enrolled that you shouldn't do Potions," Bryce Gilles, one of his Beaters, said from his position hunched over a chess board. Opposite him was Merrick Sims, Chaser, who clearly had the upper hand in the game before them. The two seventh-years had been playing for well over two hours.
"Shut up and get back to your game," Albus said, throwing a pillow aimed for his head.
"Oi! You wanker!"
The pillow was tossed back, hitting Albus square in the face.
Matt laughed from beside Albus, his head peaking up over his comic to watch his friends.
"I don't see why my predicament is so funny to you, Morion," Albus sneered in his direction. He huffed and placed the pillow comfortably behind him and leaned into it.
"You're such a drama queen, Potter. It's just a Potions assignment," Matt laughed.
Albus stared him down. "It's not the assignment I'm worried about. It's the...company," Albus said, whispering the last word, lest anyone here, particularly Zabini herself. He cast a look around and spotted Malfoy sitting on a single-seat couch near the back of the room, reading a textbook. Albus noticed the blond boy had a smile on his face as he read his book, which he thought was entirely strange. What could be funny in a textbook? Shrugging, he turned back to Matt.
"What's wrong with her, Al? She's not exactly hard on the eyes," Matt smirked.
Albus screwed his face. "Seriously? One: I've got a girlfriend, and two: I'm not—"
"Ok, ok," Matt said. "I'm just messing with you."
"Well, mess no more...I've got a headache." Albus slumped down and sighed, clutching his hair again.
Merrick, who had just captured Bryce's second bishop, spoke up. "Ok, I've had enough of this pity party," he said, obviously wanting a change of topic. "When's our next Quidditch practice, Cap'n?"
Albus stifled a yawn and told him it was tomorrow. "Be there on time, Bryce, alright? Just this once." His teammate had the grace to look sheepish. "First game is in November, against Gryffindor, too, so it isn't gonna be easy. We need to put in one hundred percent," he said, adopting his 'Captain tone', as Matt liked to call it. He dropped it immediately, when he fought a yawn again. "I'm heading up to bed. See you lads tomorrow," Albus bid. He received a grunt in return from Matt, who had buried his head once more in his comic, watching the moving cartoons raptly. Bryce and Merrick ignored him altogether. Albus shrugged and turned to the staircase, feeling suddenly exceptionally tired.
The stairs to the sixth year boys' dorms seemed longer than usual and Albus found himself dragging his feet up the last couple of the steps. Once inside the empty room, he marched straight to his bed, stripped off his t-shirt and trousers, deposited them into the mess of his trunk and meandered over to the connecting bathroom to brush his teeth. He shivered as the cold tiles chilled his bare feet.
"Hey, handsome," came a greeting in a definite female voice.
Albus jumped and almost dropped his toothbrush before his tired brain registered that his mirror had just spoken.
"Shut up," Albus groaned through his toothbrush, as he swivelled the tap on.
"My, my, Mr Potter. With an attitude like that..." the mirror said, sounding affronted.
Albus sighed. "Sorry, Sybil," he said, referring to the name that the boys had christened the mirror with. With such an outspoken personality as hers, a name was required. Just really tired." He proceeded to scrub his teeth clean.
"You look like crap," Sybil helpfully offered.
Albus snorted, causing him to choke on the peppermint paste in his mouth. He spit some out and continued. "Thanks," he grumbled.
"Just your face, though," the mirror continued. "The rest of you is gorgeous. I mean, Mr Potter, have you been working out?" Sybil asked, admiration in her tone.
Albus pulled the toothbrush out of his mouth and stared at the mirror. "Stop perving on me," he said with a small smirk. "I have a girlfriend, you know. A relationship with the two of us would never work," he joked. It occurred to him them of how stupid he must look: looking into a mirror, and talking about dating.
"Shame, if you ask me," Sybil sighed dramatically. "I suppose I shall have to spend the rest of my life alone." Albus snorted again. As long as I can keep catching glimpses of you delicious pieces of male specimens all day long."
With a roll of his eyes, Albus resumed his mission to clean his teeth.
"Speaking of delicious..." Sybil almost whispered, as the door to the bathroom opened.
It was Malfoy.
Through the mirror, Albus froze and observed his appearance, and saw Malfoy looking at him. Clearly, neither boy was expecting the other: Albus, in nothing but boxers; Malfoy, in a tight singlet and shorts, carrying his bathroom kit. Embarrassment heated Albus' system when he realised that he was standing there staring with a mouth full of froth had collected on the sides of his lips. He must look like a complete imbecile.
"Why, Mr Malfoy, you look positively edible," Sybil said, speaking first after a short awkward silence. "Don't you agree, Albus?"
Albus' eyes widened as he continued to stare through the mirror at the blonde. Edible?
Malfoy spoke first. "Uh...sorry. Don't mind me," he said, turning to leave.
"No, it's cool. It's your bathroom too," was what Albus meant to say but it came out sounding muffled and gurgled. He bent over the sink to spit out the residue and restore his ability to speak. With Albus' head averted away from the mirror, he missed the brilliant flush of pink on Malfoy's usually pale face, as the boy was standing directly behind him and could see the view in front of him clearly.
Sybil giggled.
Albus rinsed quickly, and then straightened his posture and turned to the blonde behind him. "Sorry about that," he said, "I must have sounded ridiculous then."
"Oh ... no, y-you sounded ... er ... fine," Malfoy murmured vaguely. His eyes were very deliberately not looking at Albus.
"Indeed," Sybil sighed.
Albus ignored the mirror and nodded. "Ok. Cool. Bathroom's all yours," he said, stalking out past Malfoy, trying to act as if he hadn't just embarrassed himself in front of Malfoy, with a mouth full of toothpaste and his earlier rendition of deer-in-headlights look. And Sybil just had to stirred up more trouble, as usual.
On his way out, Albus missed the blonde's very small gasp in the split second when their bodies passed each other, so intent he was on getting to his bed as fast as possible. If his bed had a voice too, then Albus was sure it would be inviting him to sleep. Gratefully, he reached his four-poster and collapsed.
Sleep was just curling into his consciousness, ready to snatch it away for another night, when Malfoy exited the bathroom. Albus, who was still semi-awake, couldn't help but watch him through the slits of his eyes, as he tiptoed over to his bed next to Albus'. Albus took note of the other boy's appearance. How is it that he looks like thatwhen he's going to bed? Albus swore that Malfoy's hair was neatly brushed. He watched as the other boy placed his kit down onto his bedside table. He then grabbed a bottle and began to spread some cream-like substance all over his face, arms and legs. It wasn't long before the sweet, fresh smell reached him. Something fruity. It was nice, Albus pondered.
It occurred to Albus that he and the blond had been in each other's classes and dormitories since their first year, but Malfoy had probably occupied more of his thoughts these past few days than all previous five years. Slightly annoyed, Albus pondered why, now, when there was more at stake this year? He had made a mental pact days earlier to stop thinking about Malfoy. Right good job he was doing of that. He was now Quidditch captain, he was incredibly popular—not only in Slytherin, but throughout the student body—and they had just begun their NEWTS studies, for exams next year—not that study was particularly high priority for Albus, but still, it was the principle of the matter. It just didn't make sense to have Malfoy in his head.
Through the small opening of his eyelids, Albus watched the boy finish applying the pleasant-smelling cream on his legs—which, Albus thought bizarrely, had no hair—get into bed and snuggle beneath his blanket, keeping quiet to not wake Albus. Soon only his blond hair was visible, which stood out against the dark green pillow case. The fluttering lamp light from the walls of the room caused Malfoy's hair to gleam. Albus, not for the first time, wondered if his hair could actually be that blond.
Albus sighed. He supposed Malfoy was always in the back of his mind, especially because of Matt and the rest of his team. Albus was always uncomfortably aware of the teasing, mocking, and practical jokes, but it seemed now, more than before, he felt sorry for the boy.
Whatever, thought Albus. He was tired; he had practice tomorrow and right now was not the time to be thinking of Malfoy.
With that final thought, Albus let sleep claim him, but not before catching a last whiff of Malfoy's nice smelling cream.