Its been a long few days of work, he spent cleaning up his house, dusting, moping, sewing the torn couch back up with stitches because of the gnawing marks, or cat sharpening its claws, or basically airing out the house. He went to the small village of Otter St. Catepole, a small little village where everyone knew everyone and all the little shops line the market street for him to replenish his food supplies, because the cupboards where desolate, the frig was bare, the freezer runs at full blast to only keep frozen the ice cubes from melting.
While he was in the village he sold some of his local remedies to town folk or some light hearted 'Love potions' to the women looking to sway their man. He was known their so it did not take him long to draw up business, for a modest price he sold almost all of his small vials to help pay the bills, and his quest for something special.
Last night, he was undercover, hidden behind bandage wraps and cloaked under night fall, he showed up in Knockturn alley, to show up at a meet, he had once a month with his black market buyer. The haggle for hours, he trying to cheat him, Luke trying to get the best buy. If it was anyone else except him, than they would have disapporiate, with a cynical laugh. But because Luke only made the best of the best of potions,, Luke would not settle for anything less, so the haggled. Finally settling on a price, this agreement made both of them unhappy but in the end, he made the deal.
With all of this cleaning, scourwering and profiteering, he felt worn and dirty. With only a few hours asleep since the start of summer, and every waking minute full of activity, he looked ragged and withered to the point of not functioning but he pushed on. Now with all the work done around the house, and his grigotts back in order, somewhat, he had time for himself.
Luke slowly open the door to the bathroom, his eye lids half close with weariness and dread to find the perfect gift for his love, he barely notice the light outside reflecting off the black and brown marble. He always found it interesting that this was the only remodeed room in the house. He could never figure out why this, from all others, especially his parent's bed room was where their money went too, but he was glad all the same.
He took of his plain white t-shirt that clung to his chest, revealing his tone body, not the most well define, but all the same, nice body. He brush his hand against his chest. Dirt, sweat and grim slowly was brush aside of his usually smooth skin. He knew he needed a shower, bad, but he kept looking himself in the mirror.
What have I become?
He had no answer for the question as he starred at his chest, branded from a curse blade. Mindlessly, he unbuckled his belt, unhinge the button. With his the help of his hands, he slipped off his blue jeans, and underwear. Now he stood completely natural in front of the mirror. Everything expose.
The coolness of the marble chilled the air, sending ripples of shivers down Luke's spine. With all his strength he had to start moving once more, moving just so he would not stop, for good.
He open the glass door to the shower, and hobbled in. it was a size of a small walk in closet, probably could fit a whole quiditch team, if he wanted too, but for now he tapped a button, and water shot out of the faucet. The sound it made hitting the floor, was a never ending flow of rain. Luke stood back listening to the rain, waiting to see the steam rolling to the sky. It only took a minute before the room around him started to warm up, the glass door became foggy.
As he stepped in under the waterfall, his muscles quivered under the shock of hot water, trickling over them, as if water was flowing over cobble stones in a brook. His eyes were closing, standing their, his hand helping him lean on the shower wall. He let the flowing river, wash away his tension, with all the dirt, all the sickening filth on his body. He was content to stay under the shower head forever, not wanting to move or to think as his his body became relaxed.
But he knew it would never last long enough. He had things to do, people to see. His mind and soul was at war with each other. He mind telling him to stay their, to not move, just stay and relax there for a bit longer. His soul, was pushing him forth, to get it done, to keep moving forward.
It took all his might just to open his eyes. Surprisingly the sun seem lower in the sky. Time did not seem to effect him, as his eyes was close, and the only thing in his world consist of the flow of hot water, and four marble walls.
He picked up a freshly bar of soup, and started to clean himself off. When the bar of soup hit the water a fresh wave of pine scent clog the air. It was a refreshing change of pace, where he had been. He started with his arms, moving to his chest, he scrubbed hard against his scar to get all the dirt that lay beneath the crevasse, that clang for survival. Finally he moved to his thighs, his pelvis and legs, washing them clean. With his body finally absent of filth leaving glossy smooth skin, he felt rejuvenated, refreshed.
He moved on, taking a razor to shave off the stubble from his face. Little airs trickled down as he took the blade across his cheek. He could not tell from the black marble, but he assume that like Charybdis pulling sailors and ships, was being pulled by a whirlpool down to its depths. It felt strange to have no hair on his face, like a boy once more, innocent, naive, but he had no complaints.
He dunked his head underneath the storm, washing his face, his hair was flatten by the onslaught of water. Pulling back to open his eyes once more, he looked around to find he shampoo bottle, he had three line up in a row. He took the one that was almost gone. With a squeeze of the bottle the last few handful of drops came out. He set the now empty bottle aside, and started rubbing it in his hair. First he could feel the oil, so greasy that his hands could slip right off. But as the shampoo settles in, the grease was uplifted leaving behind brown blonde silky hair, as he dunked his head underneath the faucet one more time. Slowly the shampoo made a trail down his body toward the drain, as water washed it away from his hair.
After he did it twice more, and stroll his fingers to his wet hair a few times, he was ready to leave the shower. He tapped the same button which turn it on, to turn it off now, leaving the only sound was drips of water falling from his body into the pool below, and the gurgling of water as the drain slurps up all the excess water. He turn around to see that the glass door was impossible to see out of it, making it difficult to see if he had extra towels, hanging up. He slide the door open, squeezing through to find two white towels hanging neatly up on their hangers. He took one, as water dripped on the floor, to dry himself off. Mythotically, he moved from his legs, to his thighs, all the way to his face and hair. Finally pulling the towel away, and wiping off the mirror, he could see his hair sticking up every which way. A smile broke from his lips amused by the sight. With a few more things to do in the restroom, for instance put on cologne, brush his teeth, fix his unruly hair (Maybe?) and clean up after himself, he would be soon ready to take on the world.
Home 
