Title: Masterpiece
Author: GrapeSmshr
Rated: If there was a rating between PG-13 and R, this fic would be in that category.
Coupling: HP/DM *slash*
Disclaimer: I'm not even gonna bother...
Ok, I originally intended this to be a one-shot, but I decided to break it up into two parts. The sole reason behind that (besides being evil) is that I wanted to see if anyone would actually read it. The other part is all typed up and ready to go, so it'll more than likely be posted up either Sunday or Monday, or earlier if I get enough positive feedback (hint, hint). So, here is part 1. Read on and enjoy!
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Masterpiece
Part 1: It's In the Eyes
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.
.
.
Vibrant violet red trailed its way across stark white, leaving lazy, moist strokes in
its wake. White gave way to green as the two colors entwined and began to dance
around each other in painfully slow movements. Not long after, every spot of white had
been saturated by the two complementary shades.
With one last stroke, tired fingers flexed slowly, curling and uncurling against damp
palms. Taking one step back, Harry Potter's scrutinizing emerald gaze focused on the
sight before him.
Large red roses stacked upon each other, the occasional leaf and stem peering out
from beneath crushed petals. Layer after layer of different shades of the rich hue
spilled forth in a three-dimensional wonderment that would have made Mother Nature
weep with jealousy.
Smiling in satisfaction, Harry began to snap the lids back onto his paint jars.
Grabbing the set of dirty brushes, he made his way into the bathroom. Sure, he could
have cleaned them using magic, but cleaning them the old-fashioned way had become
a ritual for him. As he stuck the brushes under the warm stream of water, he watched
in fascination as the reds and greens swirled together down the drain of the
luminescent porcelain sink.
For the last week, all Harry had been painting with were reds and greens. It might
have been due to the upcoming Christmas holiday, which was in three weeks. But
besides that, the two colors just looked really great together.
Hearing a gasp from outside, Harry quickly shook the dripping water from the
brushes before going back into the seventh-year boys dorm, where he had been
painting.
Hermione stood in front of the canvas, unable to tear her eyes away from the
painting. "Beautiful, absolutely beautiful," she breathed, finally looking at Harry.
Flushing slightly, Harry began to put away his paints and brushes. "It's not much,"
he mumbled.
"Not much?" Hermione echoed in disbelief. "Judging from that painting alone, I
never would have guessed that you have only been an artist for three months." She
sighed, flopping down on Harry's unmade bed. She fingered her Head Girl badge
absently, almost like she wanted to make sure it was still there. Harry suspected she
probably slept with it on, too.
Once everything was cleaned and put away, Harry took a seat next to his best
friend for seven years. Judging from the very rare glimmer of inattention in her eyes, he
could tell that she had something important on her mind. Often, he marveled at how
well he could read her, and she him. He supposed it was natural, since they spent
almost every waking hour together.
"All right, Hermione, out with it," Harry instructed.
With apologetic eyes, Hermione gave him a weak smile. She knew he would be
able to tell that something was off. He always could. "I just got a letter from my
parents. Now, I know you, Ron, and I made plans to spend the winter break together,
but... Harry, my parents asked me to come home." Taking another breath, she rushed
on. "Since the war ended, they want to celebrate with me since it's safe to go home.
Ron got a similar letter from his parents."
Harry tried not to flinch at the mention of the war. Five months later, he could still
see the last stand against Voldemort as if it had just happened yesterday. But, he
promised himself and his friends that he would try his hardest not to dwell on it. That
was when he had started to paint, throwing his energy into something that wouldn't
drive him crazy. "It's fine," he answered, laying a hand on her arm reassuringly. "I'm
happy you have something to celebrate."
"Oh, Harry!" she threw herself at him, pulling him into a fierce hug. Harry was used
to these random displays of affection. They started up after they had all almost been
killed on the battlefield. But Harry wasn't going to complain. He rather liked the comfort.
"I better go. Meeting with Dumbledore." And with a quick kiss, Hermione left.
Shaking his head, Harry gave one last glance to his latest painting before following
in the direction that Hermione had run off.
It was the middle of the day on a Saturday, and the halls were swimming with
students from all years and Houses. Harry exchanged greetings and smiles with
several of them as he made his way out of the castle.
He often spent copious amounts of time at the lake because it was usually
unoccupied and peaceful. Today was no exception. The high afternoon sun cast out a
wave of gold glitter along the surface of the calm gray-blue water. The scene really
made Harry's fingers itch for a paintbrush. He had never painted landscapes, but he
could very well start with this scene. "Marvelous," he murmured.
"I know I am, but there's no need to fawn over me, really," a voice rang out from his left.
Taking a step toward the large tree at his side, Harry acknowledged the speaker.
"Fancy meeting you here, Malfoy." Not bothering for an invitation, he plopped down
gracefully on the dead grass next to the pale teen.
They sat in semi-comfortable silence, neither knowing if they should be exchanging
insults or pleasantries. It was much easier to opt for silence, anyway.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry studied the form of his longtime rival. Like
himself, the other boy was decked out in a cloak and scarf to try and ward off the biting
chill in the air. High, smooth cheekbones were slightly flushed from the wind, and his
normally perfect hair was disheveled, strands of white-blonde blowing into his slate gray eyes.
It was his eyes that always managed to capture Harry's attention. He had become
accustomed to seeing a stoic, unreadable expression in their stormy depths. But in
the past two years, Harry had come to witness many emotions hiding themselves in
those silvery pools. Every once in a while, when he and Malfoy were verbally sparring,
the Slytherin would let his guard down and allow something other than anger to smolder
in his eyes. Those were usually the arguments that Harry lost. He was too entranced
by the pride, the tiredness, the loneliness, and, every so often, the slightest flicker of
amusement. The first time Harry had seen those eyes light up with something other
than discontent, he knew he had been a witness to something special.
Draco could feel Harry's eyes on him. He always could tell when he was being
watched, especially by the Boy Wonder. It was quite annoying most of the time. But
now, Draco was curious as to what the other boy was looking for. Without turning his
head, he drawled, "Why don't you save your eyes some work and just take a picture?"
Harry didn't jump when silver eyes met his emerald orbs. He held the gaze. "No
camera," he said coolly. His answer seemed to startle the blonde. Harry raised a
hand to absently brush an unruly strand of hair behind one ear.
Draco's eyes widened. "What did you do?" he asked as he forcefully grabbed
Harry's raised arm.
"What do you mean?" Harry's startled expression mirrored the other boy's.
"This." He flipped Harry's wrist over to show a streak of dark red running across
the back of his hand.
Harry made a face. He thought he had washed all of the paint off earlier. He
glanced up and saw that Draco was staring intently at him with what appeared to be
anger and... worry? Realization dawned upon him as he chuckled. "It's only paint,
Malfoy. I just finished a painting."
Draco's face burned with humiliation. He had just made a fool of himself. He hated
being wrong. Even more than that, he hated showing any kind of emotion, especially to
Potter. Jumping up, he turned to make his way back to the castle.
A firm hand grasped his wrist. He was pulled back and found himself face to face
with Harry. Before he could even ask what was going on, Harry's free hand moved to
the back of Draco's neck and pulled him forward until their lips connected.
Draco gasped, but it was swallowed in Harry's mouth as the Gryffindor gingerly
swept his lips across the Slytherin's own.
Pulling back just enough to talk, Harry said, "Thanks for caring."
.
.
"Why don't you save your eyes some trouble and just take a picture?"
Snapping out of his daze, Harry's eyes focused once again to see his rival looking
at him strangely. Feeling his face start to cover in a furious blush, Harry couldn't get
his mouth to form any words. He was still reeling from his apparent daydream about
the boy sitting not two feet to his left. His lips moved to spill forth a witty retort, but he
just couldn't speak.
Watching the charcoal-haired boy, Draco marveled at just how red one person
could turn. The dark shade Harry had turned was definitely not normal. It was amusing
to watch, however. For the briefest of seconds, he considered touching Harry's face to
see if his hand got scalded, but he pushed this thought quickly to the back of his mind.
Eyes locked, Draco waited expectantly for Harry to say something. When the
Gryffindor still didn't, he rolled his eyes and stood up, heading back to the castle. He
knew the other teen was staring after him. Smirking, Draco continued on his leisurely stroll.
As soon as the blonde was out of earshot, Harry cursed loudly. Damn those
untimely daydreams! He really needed to do something about them. Watching as
Draco retreated into the school, Harry repeated to himself, "Marvelous," as his mind
started formulating a plan.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I know, there wasn't *too* much action in here... And the tiny part I did throw in turned out to not even be real... But! part 2 will definitely make up for it. Boy, will it make up for it. I can honestly say that I've never written anything quite like it, as far as the romance factor goes. I've written a ton of fics, but I really think this one is in a world all its own. If you want to see what I'm talking about, please review! The more reviews I get, the faster I post. If I get at least 10 reviews by tomorrow night, I'll post the next chapter then (Saturday). Please review! Even if you didn't like it that much, go ahead and tell me. I take constructive criticism well.
And if you are in the mood for more fun H/D slash, read my other fic Insomnia if you haven't already. It's a good read, and it's short and sweet.
Anyway, thanks for reading!
Author: GrapeSmshr
Rated: If there was a rating between PG-13 and R, this fic would be in that category.
Coupling: HP/DM *slash*
Disclaimer: I'm not even gonna bother...
Ok, I originally intended this to be a one-shot, but I decided to break it up into two parts. The sole reason behind that (besides being evil) is that I wanted to see if anyone would actually read it. The other part is all typed up and ready to go, so it'll more than likely be posted up either Sunday or Monday, or earlier if I get enough positive feedback (hint, hint). So, here is part 1. Read on and enjoy!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Masterpiece
Part 1: It's In the Eyes
.
.
.
.
Vibrant violet red trailed its way across stark white, leaving lazy, moist strokes in
its wake. White gave way to green as the two colors entwined and began to dance
around each other in painfully slow movements. Not long after, every spot of white had
been saturated by the two complementary shades.
With one last stroke, tired fingers flexed slowly, curling and uncurling against damp
palms. Taking one step back, Harry Potter's scrutinizing emerald gaze focused on the
sight before him.
Large red roses stacked upon each other, the occasional leaf and stem peering out
from beneath crushed petals. Layer after layer of different shades of the rich hue
spilled forth in a three-dimensional wonderment that would have made Mother Nature
weep with jealousy.
Smiling in satisfaction, Harry began to snap the lids back onto his paint jars.
Grabbing the set of dirty brushes, he made his way into the bathroom. Sure, he could
have cleaned them using magic, but cleaning them the old-fashioned way had become
a ritual for him. As he stuck the brushes under the warm stream of water, he watched
in fascination as the reds and greens swirled together down the drain of the
luminescent porcelain sink.
For the last week, all Harry had been painting with were reds and greens. It might
have been due to the upcoming Christmas holiday, which was in three weeks. But
besides that, the two colors just looked really great together.
Hearing a gasp from outside, Harry quickly shook the dripping water from the
brushes before going back into the seventh-year boys dorm, where he had been
painting.
Hermione stood in front of the canvas, unable to tear her eyes away from the
painting. "Beautiful, absolutely beautiful," she breathed, finally looking at Harry.
Flushing slightly, Harry began to put away his paints and brushes. "It's not much,"
he mumbled.
"Not much?" Hermione echoed in disbelief. "Judging from that painting alone, I
never would have guessed that you have only been an artist for three months." She
sighed, flopping down on Harry's unmade bed. She fingered her Head Girl badge
absently, almost like she wanted to make sure it was still there. Harry suspected she
probably slept with it on, too.
Once everything was cleaned and put away, Harry took a seat next to his best
friend for seven years. Judging from the very rare glimmer of inattention in her eyes, he
could tell that she had something important on her mind. Often, he marveled at how
well he could read her, and she him. He supposed it was natural, since they spent
almost every waking hour together.
"All right, Hermione, out with it," Harry instructed.
With apologetic eyes, Hermione gave him a weak smile. She knew he would be
able to tell that something was off. He always could. "I just got a letter from my
parents. Now, I know you, Ron, and I made plans to spend the winter break together,
but... Harry, my parents asked me to come home." Taking another breath, she rushed
on. "Since the war ended, they want to celebrate with me since it's safe to go home.
Ron got a similar letter from his parents."
Harry tried not to flinch at the mention of the war. Five months later, he could still
see the last stand against Voldemort as if it had just happened yesterday. But, he
promised himself and his friends that he would try his hardest not to dwell on it. That
was when he had started to paint, throwing his energy into something that wouldn't
drive him crazy. "It's fine," he answered, laying a hand on her arm reassuringly. "I'm
happy you have something to celebrate."
"Oh, Harry!" she threw herself at him, pulling him into a fierce hug. Harry was used
to these random displays of affection. They started up after they had all almost been
killed on the battlefield. But Harry wasn't going to complain. He rather liked the comfort.
"I better go. Meeting with Dumbledore." And with a quick kiss, Hermione left.
Shaking his head, Harry gave one last glance to his latest painting before following
in the direction that Hermione had run off.
It was the middle of the day on a Saturday, and the halls were swimming with
students from all years and Houses. Harry exchanged greetings and smiles with
several of them as he made his way out of the castle.
He often spent copious amounts of time at the lake because it was usually
unoccupied and peaceful. Today was no exception. The high afternoon sun cast out a
wave of gold glitter along the surface of the calm gray-blue water. The scene really
made Harry's fingers itch for a paintbrush. He had never painted landscapes, but he
could very well start with this scene. "Marvelous," he murmured.
"I know I am, but there's no need to fawn over me, really," a voice rang out from his left.
Taking a step toward the large tree at his side, Harry acknowledged the speaker.
"Fancy meeting you here, Malfoy." Not bothering for an invitation, he plopped down
gracefully on the dead grass next to the pale teen.
They sat in semi-comfortable silence, neither knowing if they should be exchanging
insults or pleasantries. It was much easier to opt for silence, anyway.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry studied the form of his longtime rival. Like
himself, the other boy was decked out in a cloak and scarf to try and ward off the biting
chill in the air. High, smooth cheekbones were slightly flushed from the wind, and his
normally perfect hair was disheveled, strands of white-blonde blowing into his slate gray eyes.
It was his eyes that always managed to capture Harry's attention. He had become
accustomed to seeing a stoic, unreadable expression in their stormy depths. But in
the past two years, Harry had come to witness many emotions hiding themselves in
those silvery pools. Every once in a while, when he and Malfoy were verbally sparring,
the Slytherin would let his guard down and allow something other than anger to smolder
in his eyes. Those were usually the arguments that Harry lost. He was too entranced
by the pride, the tiredness, the loneliness, and, every so often, the slightest flicker of
amusement. The first time Harry had seen those eyes light up with something other
than discontent, he knew he had been a witness to something special.
Draco could feel Harry's eyes on him. He always could tell when he was being
watched, especially by the Boy Wonder. It was quite annoying most of the time. But
now, Draco was curious as to what the other boy was looking for. Without turning his
head, he drawled, "Why don't you save your eyes some work and just take a picture?"
Harry didn't jump when silver eyes met his emerald orbs. He held the gaze. "No
camera," he said coolly. His answer seemed to startle the blonde. Harry raised a
hand to absently brush an unruly strand of hair behind one ear.
Draco's eyes widened. "What did you do?" he asked as he forcefully grabbed
Harry's raised arm.
"What do you mean?" Harry's startled expression mirrored the other boy's.
"This." He flipped Harry's wrist over to show a streak of dark red running across
the back of his hand.
Harry made a face. He thought he had washed all of the paint off earlier. He
glanced up and saw that Draco was staring intently at him with what appeared to be
anger and... worry? Realization dawned upon him as he chuckled. "It's only paint,
Malfoy. I just finished a painting."
Draco's face burned with humiliation. He had just made a fool of himself. He hated
being wrong. Even more than that, he hated showing any kind of emotion, especially to
Potter. Jumping up, he turned to make his way back to the castle.
A firm hand grasped his wrist. He was pulled back and found himself face to face
with Harry. Before he could even ask what was going on, Harry's free hand moved to
the back of Draco's neck and pulled him forward until their lips connected.
Draco gasped, but it was swallowed in Harry's mouth as the Gryffindor gingerly
swept his lips across the Slytherin's own.
Pulling back just enough to talk, Harry said, "Thanks for caring."
.
.
"Why don't you save your eyes some trouble and just take a picture?"
Snapping out of his daze, Harry's eyes focused once again to see his rival looking
at him strangely. Feeling his face start to cover in a furious blush, Harry couldn't get
his mouth to form any words. He was still reeling from his apparent daydream about
the boy sitting not two feet to his left. His lips moved to spill forth a witty retort, but he
just couldn't speak.
Watching the charcoal-haired boy, Draco marveled at just how red one person
could turn. The dark shade Harry had turned was definitely not normal. It was amusing
to watch, however. For the briefest of seconds, he considered touching Harry's face to
see if his hand got scalded, but he pushed this thought quickly to the back of his mind.
Eyes locked, Draco waited expectantly for Harry to say something. When the
Gryffindor still didn't, he rolled his eyes and stood up, heading back to the castle. He
knew the other teen was staring after him. Smirking, Draco continued on his leisurely stroll.
As soon as the blonde was out of earshot, Harry cursed loudly. Damn those
untimely daydreams! He really needed to do something about them. Watching as
Draco retreated into the school, Harry repeated to himself, "Marvelous," as his mind
started formulating a plan.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I know, there wasn't *too* much action in here... And the tiny part I did throw in turned out to not even be real... But! part 2 will definitely make up for it. Boy, will it make up for it. I can honestly say that I've never written anything quite like it, as far as the romance factor goes. I've written a ton of fics, but I really think this one is in a world all its own. If you want to see what I'm talking about, please review! The more reviews I get, the faster I post. If I get at least 10 reviews by tomorrow night, I'll post the next chapter then (Saturday). Please review! Even if you didn't like it that much, go ahead and tell me. I take constructive criticism well.
And if you are in the mood for more fun H/D slash, read my other fic Insomnia if you haven't already. It's a good read, and it's short and sweet.
Anyway, thanks for reading!