chapter three
He doesn't want to get in the bathroom. Something about its plain white porcerlain walls drive up from the ceramic-like floor to the carefully decorated ceeling have him hesitated. It's a limited space. Of course. ( Who would spend extra moneys on something that you barely visit, honestly? - he thinks to himself. ) But he is not afraid of that. No, he does not have claustrophobia, or whatever it was called, following by Hermione's sarcastic remarks first time he used this almost entirely Muggle-styled bathroom. Nope, he does not have any adverse intelectual thought-process that requires professional's medical attention, nor does he really had any reason to be standing out at the entrance of the room for solid 10 minutes. He did it anyways.
Taking the shoes off, placing them to the shelf to make it less messy, hanging the coat that he thrown on without a second thought to the meet-up with Harry only to end up sitting slightly distant from his friend because his coat's a bit smelly and musty ( he forgot to wash it before the meeting. Merlin, since when did he become so forgetful? Magic can do the trick, of course, but do you really put any hopes on him? He totally forgot to cast that spell on himself, which, again, all thanks to his cursed brain. ). All the procedures went silky smooth. Years of practice. Actually it was only three and a half year cause he has adapted to this healthy-and-capable-adult's life style since they ( Hermione and him, of course ) moved to live together in this decent flat that he actually bought after she left. Not that he had anywhere to spare his earnings, so.
And then, he walks up to the bathroom, and he stands there, for 10 minutes, just figuring if he should come in, or not. Well, to be more exact, what he was thinking then were quite a mess, bunch of thoughts and questions are tangled together with knots that connected them by their briefing answers, creating walls of a labyrinth that the final destination was his mind. ( wait, he still has it? He thought he lost it. )
He probably should. He smelled like rubbish. Even with the spell on. Scent of rotten flesh, of freshly digged tomb, of slicky blood that lead trails to him-bloody hell, stop.
So he stops thinking to takes his time to enter the room.
The floor felt cold to his bare feet. He doesn't want to use slippers, though. He just enjoys the feeling of sensing everything through his skin, it was a kind of intimacy that makes life more real. Steps and steps, he takes himself to that small, surrounded area, straight away and ignores the mirror on his way. No thanks. He does not really fancy taking a look at himself now.
If there's one thing he wish he could get rid of, but can't, it's the decorative towels hang freely on the wall just in reach from the shower. It's Hermione's. Something he'd always forget not to touch and use them to dry himself off ( now that's soemthing he learned to do after his lover moved in. Merlin knows how he survived. He didn't even own a washcloth before she came. And look at him now, body-towels and face-used washcloth. His mom would be proud of him. What about mione? ). And that often not ends well. Hermione would scream at him and of course he agrues back. They're a couple now, can't the towel be shared??
" of course not! I've bought for both of us ten towels just to prevent this kind of situation, don't you understand? " She sighs in fustration, shooking her head at him with her arms crossed in front of her chest and standing with that missy position he is all but grown accustomed of ( know-it-all standing pose, he rolled his eyes ), " now, thanks to you, Ron, i would had to go back and take another towel with me because you had already used the one i planned to do. "
" ... look, i' didn't mean to do it, alright? I was just- tired, and i mistook that one for mine because i was tired- It's an incident. " He tried to explain, eventually knew that this wasn't gonna work when that frown still stuck on her face. " 'Mione .... "
Grabbing that thing within, he steps in the shower. Places the towel on the shelf, he'd start to undressing himself. Unbuttoning the shirt first, then go with the belt, before zip down the pants and walk out of it. Only boxer on, his fingers linger on the waistband for a couple of seconds before pulling it over to strip it off. He's completely bare now.
Dirty clothes tossed aside to the basket. He turns on the water.
It is warm.
Now, just to be clear, he wasn't the type of person who spends long time taking a nice, hot shower. He surely wasn't had been that interested in seeking comfort by rinsing all the filthiness in his body away, cause there's simply no ways he'd willing to stay in a bathroom full of boys ( first his brothers, then his classmates ) just to be made fun of his body. It was all jokes, yeah, he knows, but that doesn't mean he wasn't offended. Of course he'd make sure everyone knows that by stomring out the bathroom after some big words. Now that only a memory, but it does help developing a habit of taking a quick shower when needed which was quickly appreciated later when he got to be an Auror ( people don't care about dirts while fighting, 'mione. ). He wasn't a person of long-timed bathes, so there are no reasons for him to starting as one now, aren't there?
He hates how water felt so comforting at the present time. He does not want to adapt to a new habit, goddamn it!
But he did it anyways.
Just like he always does.
Adapted.