Every morning after waking, women had to dress and groom themselves, while men had to shave. Of course, some did not shave. Albus Dumbledore's beard had grown almost to the floor.
Most people thought Gay men cared greatly about their appearance, but Albus valued other things more. He was a Gay man who did not look Gay at all; even after his death, no one had noticed.
The half-blood Veela, stripped of her glamour, sat on the Half-Blood Prince's lap and shaved him with a sharp razor.
It was her first time shaving a man. The razor scraped through the white foam, revealing skin that was no longer as smooth as a child's. The pressure was difficult to control: too light, and it would not shave cleanly; too heavy, and it would cut his face. Yet he indulged her, letting her do whatever she pleased to him.
The weather was not as good as yesterday's. Dark clouds filled the sky, as though it were about to rain. Staying home all day and going nowhere was not so bad, really.
After Tannhäuser grew tired of staying in Venus's cave, he wanted to leave. But how long had he stayed there?
The little cottage in the wilderness where they had once lived in seclusion was their "cave." They had stayed inside it for six years without growing tired of it.
"You've only shaved half of it," he reminded her. "Do you want me to go out looking like this?"
"It's fine if we don't go out today," she said distractedly.
He was no longer the thin, gaunt child he had once been. His muscles were thick and solid. For a man in his forties, he had kept himself in remarkably good shape.
She cupped his head and touched her lips to his,