Author's Note: This is an extremely short one-shot that I wrote about a thousand years ago for practice. I consider it (as a bit of an inside joke) to be my personal ad for Shinkle Shine's magical toothpaste, hence the title. Shinkle Shine's is briefly mentioned in my other story 'Love Games'. So, if any of you are wondering what inspired that particular story, it was this brand of toothpaste. No joke.
I am merely posting this today, of all days, as a 'Happy Birthday!' to Ron Weasley. Everyone loves a redhead...
"So wait, let me get this straight," Ron said, standing next to Harry in his cramped bathroom at the Burrow. "They're glasses that fit in your eyes?"
Harry sighed dramatically, turning his head to look at Ron, which was a futile effort in itself, due to the fact that all Ron's face appeared to be was a blur. Harry's own face showed minor annoyance at the fact that he kept getting interrupted with the same bloody questions. He didn't think it was that hard of a concept to grasp.
"Yes, basically."
"But, don't they hurt?"
"Would I wear them constantly if they did?" Harry asked flatly, turning back to his own reflection in the large mirror and squinting. He leaned in to get a better look at what he was doing before Ron interrupted him again.
"Why don't you just go to St. Mungo's and get that charm done?" he asked innocently. Despite Harry's annoyance, Ron's curiosity was too pure. "I heard it's helped a few people out. Laser-whatsit?
"Well, I wouldn't trust the possibility of losing the terrible eyesight I have already to a life of blindness just based on some bloke's aim," Harry said nervously. Before Ron could ask him another question, he eyed his close reflection and brought the pad of his finger up to his right eye, touching the little near-invisible lens to his iris. He looked over (one eye in focus, the other still blurry now) at his best friend to see him wincing. Harry laughed.
"Bloody weird," the redhead said, visibly shivering.
Harry was about to tease Ron for being so squeamish before he realized that he himself had been nervous about the whole 'eye-touching thing' not a week ago. After seven full days of putting the contacts in in the morning and taking them out at night, he was almost surprised at how routine it seemed already. He fished around in the little solution-filled container holding his left contact and finally grasped it between two fingers. Ron looked at it questioningly, and Harry sighed again.
"Go on, then," he said, holding it out and knowing he would now have to clean it again. Ron poked it eagerly, fascinated.
"It's squishy," Ron said, looking up for confirmation.
"Yes, it is," Harry nodded. He then rinsed it and shoved it in his left eye haphazardly, blinking it into place before grabbing his toothbrush. A false tear ran down Harry's cheek that he didn't notice.
"What's wrong?" Ron said, startled. "I didn't mean to touch it, I was just curious."
"What?" Harry asked, completely confused. Feeling the wetness on his cheek, he rolled his eyes and wiped it away. "That just happens sometimes," he said when Ron continued to look wary. "'Cause of this," he shook the little bottle of solution.
"Oh…right."
Trying not to be offended at how sensitive he must be seen, since Ron seemed to be truly convinced that Harry had been crying over such a small matter, Harry proceeded to brush his teeth while Ron leaned on the counter casually.
"It's weird, you know, you not having those on all the time," Ron jabbed a finger at Harry's abandoned glasses on the counter by the sink.
"Mm," Harry replied, brushing his molars vigorously.
Harry had only recently received these as a venture of his own into the muggle world. To celebrate his nearing seventeenth birthday, he had gotten a rather large amount of money transferred over to muggle currency from his vault, which only revealed to him how surprisingly out of practice he was with using it, and had indulged himself on various things of a frivolous nature. One of his indulgencies included buying a shiny new pair of contacts to replace his glasses, which had never really stopped being a bother to him. With a pang of guilt at…well…Harry wasn't quite sure what, he also had to admit that he had hopes that they would possibly aid him in not getting killed by Voldemort or his followers in a heated battle. What if it was raining, and he couldn't see? What if they got broken beyond repair by a spell? What if he merely dropped them in combat? The only thing to help enlighten his sight would surely be the green flash of an Avada Kedavra curse, which would do him little good in finding his glasses. With a spit of Shinkle Shine's Shimmering Toothpaste (Two minutes to tooth tranquility!) into the sink, Harry realized he had planned out his purchase a lot more than he had originally thought.
"You know, maybe I should get some," said Ron thoughtfully, bringing Harry out of his depressing thoughts.
"Erm, Ron, you don't wear glasses," Harry said, his breath coming out in an icy mist. The toothpaste.
"No, I suppose not," Ron added, sounding disappointed.
Harry looked back at his reflection, now in clear focus thanks to the contacts. He felt like he was forgetting something.
"Take care of that niffler you call a hairstyle!" he heard his own voice mirrored as his reflection eyed his hair disdainfully.
After glaring at the mirror in annoyance, Harry ran Ron's comb through his hair futilely. It sprang back to its erratic pattern, ignoring his efforts completely.