Black is Always in Style

Harry rummaged through his sock drawer in desperation. Doesn't have a mate; given to me by Dobby; used to be Uncle Vernon's...why do I even still have those? Frustrated, Harry dug deeper until his fingers bumped against something that crinkled. Hey! Chocolate! I forgot I still had this! He unwrapped one of the candies and popped it in his mouth. Good, but I really can't wear them on my feet.

Frowning, he glanced at the basket of dirty clothes in the corner of his bedroom. With a sigh, Harry scooped up the few pieces of clothing that were scattered around the room, shoved them into the basket and picked the whole thing up. Balancing the basket on his hip, he grabbed the jar of Muggle money and the Daily Prophet, slipped on his shoes (without socks) and went out the door of his flat, locking it behind him.

Peering over the pile of wash, he shuffled down the stairs and out the front door of the building. Three blocks later, Harry arrived at the Laundromat and went inside. He wrestled the basket over to the nearest open washing machine and set the whole lot down. Opposite him, a tall man was removing wet clothing from the machine that stood back-to-back with Harry's own. Harry glanced up at him once before turning to the job of sorting his laundry. Halfway through reaching for his basket, Harry froze. Slowly, he turned his head to look at the man, who had also frozen in mid-action, again.

They were each so shocked it wasn't until one of the dryers buzzed that they came to themselves, each jumping so much that one would have thought the buzzer was a gunshot. Then, the man moved toward the dryer and began pulling out a bundle of black robes and folding them as though nothing had happened.

Harry's mind was working furiously. What the hell is HE doing here? Did he know I would be here? Maybe he did a spell to make all my wearable socks dirty just so I would have to do my laundry! Harry shook his head vigorously. No, that would have to be the stupidest plan ever. He turned slightly to watch Lord Voldemort, the darkest wizard of the age, folding his laundry. Maybe he just needed clean clothes...Harry thought wonderingly. With a shrug, Harry began to sort his wash, one eye trained on Voldemort in case he tried anything.

Once both of them had got their clothes in their respective machines, they sat down on the plastic chairs to wait. Harry tried to read his paper, but found he really couldn't concentrate. It didn't help that every other article was titled something like "Voldemort: Where Is He Now?" and "Death and Destruction in Diagon Alley: Is Voldemort Involved?"

Voldemort cleared his throat quietly and Harry threw the paper onto the seat next to him and reached for his wand. In obvious surprise, Voldemort jumped to his feet and also went for his wand. They stared at each other, each with their hands on their wands, but did not draw them. Finally, Voldemort sat slowly back down and Harry picked up his paper, but found he was too nervous to continue reading and soon folded it back up.

Voldemort took a breath and Harry tensed. "If you're finished, may I have that?" he asked.

Harry eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah. Sure," he said stiffly before handing the paper over.

Voldemort read the paper with the occasional chuckle which annoyed Harry to no end. Nothing else occurred until it was time for Harry to move his wash to the dryers which he did almost entirely backwards to keep one eye on the seemingly occupied Dark Lord.

Not long after that, the dryers buzzed again and Voldemort got up to get the last of his clothes. Harry watched as he pulled out another pile of black robes and began to fold them.

Without thinking Harry said, "Is that all you wear?"

Voldemort looked up at him angrily. "Black is always in style," he replied rather huffily.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, like it would kill you to wear a little color," he mumbled loud enough for Voldemort to hear.

The Dark Lord sent him another scathing look but didn't answer. He finished folding, then gathered the stack of folded robes in his arms and headed for the door. Harry watched gratefully but held back his sigh of relief when Voldemort turned at the door and looked at him. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it after a moment and instead, just shook his head and walked out.

Well, that was embarrassing.