Rating: G-PG-R-NC-17, general PG13, really
Pairing: HP x SS SLASH
Disclaimer: Not mine but I just want to torture my darlings
Betas: Rimfire, Lothlorien (thank you so much, other mistakes are mine)
A/N 01: ' part of the Harry/Severus Fuh-Q-Fest from Dusk til Dawn. () challenge: 1) Write FOUR separate drabbles, stories of exactly one hundred words each. All drabbles must be interconnected somehow and they must go from G to PG to R to NC17, one of each.
A/N 02: it didn't come out the way I wanted it to be. *scratch head* it's... confusing, but read it anyway ^^;
/…Italic…/ Harry's words to Severus
*…Bold…* Severus' words to Harry
C & P by G.Arnet, 2003
[ Line: Etches ]
The facet lines were drawn on the canvas, etched deep into the pores. The charcoal residue was left on his hands, smearing his fingertips and under his nails. The dust settled on the edge of the old wooden table like ashes from the burnt coals from the fireplace. His jaded eyes stared at the picture as he adjusted his glasses.
The skin was white and a pair of black obsidian eyes stared back at him with a cold steel gaze. He shivered. It was only a monochrome sketch, but…
He shoved it inside a drawer and placed a heavy lock.
[ Color: Crimson ]
The evening was shadowed with dark clouds. The rain fell like endless drops of tears. The air chilled like ice in a glass of a good Scotch. He drank deeply. His companion did the same, and left the empty glasses on the table, in hope for...
…For what exactly?
The boy looked at him and he stared back. Black eyes challenged the innocent forest green ones. The brat grinned cheekily.
/Life, or what's left of it/.
The red wine inside the clear blue vial shimmered under the candle light.
The door opened and two figures disappeared.
The door clicked shut.
[ Texture: Abstract ]
*If the brush was your wand,
…You were painting the canvas with crimson.*
Droplets of blackened red acrylic fell onto the black soil canvas. Like Pollock's experiment on paint: how far the paint spilled, how much *blood* to achieve the longest trail of crimson? How many red stains on your robes? *How many… did you kill?*
/If the brush was your wand,
… You were painting the world in red/
He used different pigment, green light like the boy's eyes for all of his sins. /Like the color of poison residue/. Like his green eyed lover's sweetest kiss of death.
[ Shape: Irregular ]
/I hate my life/
…Not picture perfect.
/But…/ A single kiss.
…An old picture on the fireplace.
Fond memories. Now and then. For example;
/I like the fading sound of the evening rain/
…The touches here and there.
*The smell of flowers beyond the moor*
…Feverish skin against skin.
/And the shades of purple and blue at dawn/
…Eliciting some sighs and moans and whispers in their room, in their minds, echoed in their hearts.
*Or…*
…Just to feel these feelings together
/Sev, I…/
*Harry…*
No matter what
*/I think… I like this world/*
…it should be alright then.
[ ende ]
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