Scent and Sensibility
"Are you certain?" What was this, the seventh time in the past couple days? Snape barely suppressed a groan of annoyance. "Don't you want to smell like lavender?"
Yes, he was certain, and no, he did not want to smell like lavender, thank you very much.
"So pretty, lavender," said the blonde, "the color, the flower, and the fragrance."
"That," said Snape in reply, "is a blatant opinion and nothing more."
"It's so soothing," he continued. "And the color, it looks fabulous on me."
Snape raised an eyebrow.
"One of these days, I'm going to stop offering and not only will you not smell lavender fresh, you won't get a share of my profits."
"No one is going to buy your hair potions. If I was your guinea pig, my head would probably have melted by now."
Lockhart looked dejected. "I happen to be one of the best potion makers this side of India," he said weakly. "And even if you could do the basics better, you know nothing of scents."
"I simply don't fancy smelling like a pouf."
"And what's wrong with a pouf? Some of the most famous witches and wizards—"
"I have no problem with homosexuals. That doesn't mean I have to smell like one."
"Not very secure in your masculinity?"
"Maybe I just don't like lavender!"
His face faltered. "You could have just said so."
"There you have it: I don't like lavender. Care for me to repeat it again? Repetition seems to be well within your bailiwick. Here, I will reiterate yet another point: I. Don't. Want. To wash. My hair. With your abominable. Poufy. Hair potion. Thanks." How a "thanks" could sound so entirely disdainful, he did not know. The man was a master of disdainful remarks.
"One chance," said Lockhart. "Give me one chance to wash your hair. There is only one kind of potion I can mix correctly, and that is a hair potion. Where do you think I get my shiny hair from? Certainly not from anything store-bought. I shudder to think."
"So what will it be?" he asked Snape. "If you let me wash your hair with it, and you like the results, it could really be worth it. I promise if you try it I'll never bother you about it again. I'm sure your hair could look just beautiful."
Snape seriously considered it, reasoning with himself, weighing his options.
"I could even change the scent."
"Done," he said.
"Okay, Snape, follow me."
They made their way to Gilderoy's bedroom and he sat Snape in a chair with gold brocade. The amount of uncalled-for ornamentation in the room made Snape flinch. Moving to an ornate cabinet, Lockhart returned with a jar of a thick lavender substance.
"Unscented, you'll be glad to hear." He told Snape to lean back and began to apply the potion. Snape relaxed as Lockhart began to massage it into his scalp. "It'll look just beautiful," Lockhart assured him.
After they waited for a while and rinsed it out, he said a quick spell to dry Snape's hair and surprisingly did not catch the man's hair on fire with it.
The blond stared and began running his hands through the hair. "I knew it," he murmured.
"Beautiful?" said Snape in a mocking tone.
"Yes," he whispered, rubbing the hair against his own cheek. This man, he thought, while not conventionally pretty, was charming in his own rite.
Snape thought of Lockhart as well, as the man was currently petting his hair and therefore impossible to ignore. While the man had no more than a Squib's ability to charm, he was admittedly beautiful.
Snape then got up, after assuring Lockhart he'd get back to him about his official opinion.
Lockhart opened the door just as Snape left his room and called after him. Snape turned around and came back to meet him at the doorway.
Lockhart cleared his throat. "Would you like to ask me to dinner? You can, if you want."
Such audacity. "What makes you think I'm attracted to you?"
"You think these looks make only females weak at the knees?" He reached out and stroked Snape's cheek.
"I'm not a pouf."
"Maybe if you keep saying it, people will believe you someday." He gave a small wink of a sparkling blue eye and then flashed Snape a grin.
Perhaps Gilderoy Lockhart was charming after all.