Initially submitted two years ago for my school Literary Wing collection, under the pretext of original poetry. Then some people read it and saw the light. Smart fans, them.
Enjoy. :)
Disclaimer: All, er, implied characters and elements are (c) J. K. Rowling.
Narcissus Incarnate
"Not again," the mirror sighs
As he strides before it,
Touching his hair,
Smoothing his robes.
An ever-ready comb
Pausing in mid-air;
Buckets of gel
Glowing upon his head.
He checks his face:
Flawless.
But a frown etches across:
Something isn't right.
A lock of hair
Falls over his eyes,
Sneaky as a snake,
Prominent as a scar.
He yelps; runs it back in place.
Oh, relief. Oh, joy.
What mask shall he wear today?
Let's see:
A scowl —
Too unattractive.
A pout —
Too innocent.
An evil smirk —
Too malicious.
. . . but I like it.
He leaves the mirror behind —
Smirking for all his worth —
And turns with a flourish
Of gold and silver,
Black and green.
Perfect beyond dreams.
-fin-