Reflections

He is standing in front of a mirror. It is full length, showing his entire body, although he is only naked to the waist. His hands move, memorizing each and every perfect detail of the flesh beneath his fingers. He leans in closer, examining his face.

His eyes are cool emerald green, the shade of unreachable water, of a snake in the grass, of jealousy. They flicker and darken with anger, lighten with joy. Beautiful obsidian pupils expand as the sun filtering through the windows hides behind a cloud. They are covered with thick, dark lashes. Usually hidden behind glass lenses, they never get a chance to shine with their full potential.

He reaches up, and speculatively runs a hand through his hair. It is thick, black, messy, and hides his forehead. He lifts the bangs, and frowns at an unmarked forehead. Not perfect, then.

He ignores the tanned brown skin to run a delicate fingernail over soft, rosy lips. They are thin, and shy, opening slightly to allow his finger access to a small, scarlet, cat-like tongue. He bites down briefly on the finger, liking the thrill of arousal that runs through him, and then continues the inspection.

His chest is thin, showing the barest hint of ribs under pale, muscled skin. The light dapples his abdomen, turning it golden and warm. He stretches, enjoying the sight of sliding pectorals in the yellow sunlight.

He inspects the arms next, examining the light skin not kissed by the warm shine of spring light, constantly hidden beneath huge T-shirts or robe sleeves. The hands themselves are long, and thin, reminding him of a pianist. The nails are clipped short, and a little crooked, the knuckles pale and lined. He explores lower, delighting in finding all the ticklish little spots that make him shiver with delight. He longs to slip one hand under the pants and find out all the little hidden secrets, but he refrains. He is savouring the moment.

Not taking his eyes off of the mirror, he moves a hand a takes a small milk chocolate in his fingers and brings it to his lips. Slipping the tiny square into his mouth, he waits as it melts, then frowns again. Not quite. He picks up another, this one almond, and repeats the procedure. The flavour overwhelms his tastebuds, and he shuts his eyes in ecstasy, licking and sucking each finger in an attempt to get every last molecule of chocolate. Once the heavenly confection is no more then a memory, he lets his body fold up, gently coming to the floor as he fixes this emotion in his memory.

A moment later he doubles up as a spasm of pain rips through his abdomen, again and again, his breath hissing out from between his teeth as he rides the waves of discomfort. A moment later they ease, and he gets up, shaking quietly. His hair, now silver blonde, falls into cold grey eyes. His hour of paradise is up, and he must wait another month before the Polyjuice is ready, before he can experience it again. But he is not without triumph.

************************************************************************

The nest day, at breakfast, Harry Potter is sitting an talking with his friends when the owl comes. It is an eagle owl, and he is momentarily confused. It drops a small box in front of him, and leaves. The delicately wrapped and tied white chocolate almond liquor chocolates wink seductively up at him from the package. The note on top is simple, and not signed.

I know that they are your favourite

fin