A/N - This was originally posted during the summer of 2002; therefore, it is not OotP or HBP compatible. I am reposting this story at the request of several people. I hope you enjoy, and that it's as good as you remember it.

It was early.

He didn't know what time it was, exactly, or what was going on. What did manage to register was the fact that there was now someone sitting on the bed across the room. That bed had been empty, he remembered, but now there was someone there. Watching him. The thought made him uneasy, but he closed his eyes and tried to sleep anyway. It took a few minutes before he realized that it wasn't going to work.

The darkness was almost complete, with the exception of the torchlight in the hall outside the closed door. The stranger across the room was sitting with his back to the wall, his head leaning against it.

Time passed slowly. The thought occurred to him that the stranger had a strong back, because he was able to sit like that for so long without slumping forward.

He watched the stranger until daylight came two hours later. He realized that the stranger hadn't been watching him at all, but rather he had been sleeping in the position he was in – leaning against the wall, his head straight, his legs crossed. The stranger's eyes didn't open as the room slowly became lighter.

The stranger looked quite interesting, he thought to himself. Pale hair, even paler skin, old-fashioned robes…the man across the room didn't look like anyone that he was used to seeing, especially not in this place.

The light finally fell across the stranger's eyes, and they fluttered open. The eyes were silver and frighteningly cold.

"Why did you sleep like that?" he asked before realizing that it might be rude.

The stranger regarded him, and something like realization crept into his eyes. "Gilderoy Lockhart," he said softly.

He thought for a moment before replying. "Yes," he said finally.

"My, I'd wondered what had become of you," the stranger said. His voice was mocking and as cold as his eyes.

"Become of me…oh. Yes," Gilderoy said. "Got in the way of a bad Memory charm is all."

"That's what I heard," the stranger said. He didn't offer anything by way of explanation.

Silence.

"So…what's your name?" Gilderoy asked.

The stranger arched an eyebrow, as if in disbelief. "Lucius Malfoy."

"Oh. What did you do?"

Lucius said nothing.

"You must have done something to end up in here, it's a psych-"

"I'm aware of what it is, Lockhart. And it's none of your business why I'm here."

"I'm sure people will know soon enough anyway. You'll tell me then."

"No, I…never mind. Just never mind. Get up and get dressed, for God's sake. You look like hell."

Gilderoy frowned slightly and got up to look in the mirror. Lucius was right; he didn't look anywhere near as he should. He opened the door and started down the hall. He returned a few minutes later with some towels and various showering necessities.

"You'll need to take a shower. They get cross if you don't, and lord knows we don't want that."

"I happen to know the routine, Lockhart. Get in the shower."

Gilderoy did as Lucius said. He washed his hair, making sure to clean it right down to the roots. It wouldn't do to have greasy hair or – and he grimaced at the thought – flakes. He hadn't been plagued by those yet, but you never knew…

"Aren't you done in there yet?"

"You can't rush these things, Lucius!" Gilderoy yelled back, but he hurried up anyway, trying to avoid being yelled at by someone who had done Something Unknown that was bad enough to end up in a mental ward. He was pretty sure that Lucius hadn't gotten in the way of a spell gone wrong, because he looked and seemed relatively normal. Maybe he had tried to attack someone. Or maybe….

"Damn it, Gilderoy!"

"You can't use profan –"

"I'll be using a lot worse than 'damn it' if you don't get the hell out here!"

Gilderoy muttered some choice words before turning off the water. He dried himself as quickly as possible, wrapped two towels around himself (one around his waist and another turban-style around his head) and then walked out of the small bathroom.

"Thank you," Lucius said in a show of mock-gratitude. "I've been in these clothes longer than feels sanitary. I want to take a shower while the hot water holds out." With that he entered the bathroom. It occurred to Gilderoy that entered wasn't anywhere near the right word. Lucius had positively flounced in, slamming the door behind him.

Gilderoy stared after him, then shrugged and turned to the mirror. He took his hair down and started fixing it, brushing it through with one the combs he had gotten from Contraband. One could only do so much with just a comb, but Gilderoy liked to think that he had mastered it. It was an art form, when it came down to it. He smiled to himself and put the comb on the sink, then turned back into the main room to get dressed.

He opened the drawer on the small wooden dresser and noticed some other clothes lying folded next to his. They must belong to Lucius, he thought as he took his own clothes out and got dressed.

Before long, Lucius had turned the water off in the bathroom. He came out about thirty seconds later, not bothering with a towel to cover himself. He simply walked out naked, drying his hair. Then, with one hand still holding the towel to his head, he moved to the dresser and took out a plain set of black robes. He dropped the towel and yanked them on.

Gilderoy stared. This had to be the least-shy roommate he'd had so far.

Lucius turned and noticed Gilderoy staring. "What's your problem?" he said. He sounded sulky.

"Oh, did the hot water give on you?"

Lucius said nothing, but put his shoes on and walked over to the mirror. He gripped one of the combs from the counter and started to brush his hair with it. He had more than a little difficulty, as his hair was long and rather tangled, presumably from the night before.

"Need help?" Gilderoy asked.

"Not unless you plan on -"

Gilderoy ignored him and took the comb from Lucius' hand. "Now hold still."

"You don't have to. I would prefer it if you -"

"Nonsense. You certainly wouldn't be able to do it yourself, as you obviously don't know what you're doing."

"I don't know what I'm - it's my hair, or am I wrong?"

"It won't matter if you don't take care of it properly."

"…am I arguing with you about my hair?"

"Yes."

Lucius tried to twist around and take the comb from Gilderoy, which resulted in his hair being wrenched painfully to the side. "Goddamn it, Gilderoy!" he shrieked.

The door opened suddenly, knocking into both men and causing Gilderoy to drop Lucius' hair and grab his shoulder. Lucius shoved his hand off roughly and took the comb from him.

"Really, what is going on here?" said the person who had opened the door. She was a tall woman whose white uniform contrasted roughly with her black hair. "I can hear you both clear down the hall."

To Gilderoy's surprise, Lucius smiled and said "I apologize, Marlene. I daresay it won't happen again." Marlene made an official-sounding noise of disbelief and left them alone, but not before taking the combs from the counter and Lucius' hand.

"And where do you know Marlene from?" Gilderoy asked.

"She's the one on my suicide watch."

"Suicide?"

"Oh, you caught that?" Lucius said dryly.

"Well, you threw it out there for me to -"

"…never mind, Gilderoy."

And with that, Lucius turned and left the room.