~Picture Perfect~
(Osiris~ title is underconstruction- may change!)
Draco Malfoy, 15, wiped the sweat from his eyes and stepped back as his eyes scanned avidly.
"Perfect..." he whispered, taking the paint brush once more and scribbled his signature.
He glanced at it once more- an angel with large white wings perched, her legs both on the left, facing the viewer, on the back of a motorcycle, her long white-golden hair floating majestically; her almost transparent wings not blocking the view of a dark-haired man with bright green eyes and a lightning bolt on the shoulder of his leather jacket.
He wiped the paint off his cheek, only succeeding to get more on, and smiled at the completion of his two year project.
Getting everything into perspective, shadowing, inking, painting, it all paid off just to get a look at it.
He was sure to get at least second place.
He turned his back and washed his hands under the sink in the corner of the room, took one last look and left, closing the door tightly and locking it after him.
**
"Draco Malfoy!" his mother, Narcissa, chided, "Past eight! I don't know what's gotten into you lately," she sighed and put a plate of rice and fried beef into his hands, "Eat. Then wash your face, you've gotten pastel on it."
"Yes, mum," he took the foot and chewed on the chopsticks until he reached his room. A terrible pain filled is heart and he dropped the food into the trash can trying to figure out what it meant...
**Next Morning**
Harry Potter, 15, grinned, "What a prick," he sneered, then took a pose- his feet together, his back straight, and his hands together, "'Peeeerfect," he crooned causing his best friends Hermione Granger, Ron, George, and Fred Weasley to burst into laughter.
"What do you say we trash it?" Fred asked, his eyes shining with mischeif.
"Moi? Trash art?!" Harry threw a look that shone with false offense, "Never!"
"Then I'll start!" Hermione took a paint scraper (really sharp knives bent at a point) and tossed it to Harry who caught it by the handle.
"So these art geeks can have knives, but I can't?" he asked with mock sadness, but let Geoge throw one first.
It landed right between the biker's eyes.
"Y'know, if you tilt your head like this and squint your eyes, it looks alot like you!" Ron contorted his face.
They laughed.
"You look like you're trying to shit," Hermione handed him a scraper.
"She's not very pretty," Ron jabbed it into her heart.
Fred splashed red paint across the angel.
They heard movement.
Hermione quickly looked outside, "Snape! Scatter!" she whispered.
Hermi went out the window, Ron went out hte back door, and Fred and George went out the other window.
Harry was about to leap out a window, but a thin hand gripped onto his arm.
"Potter," he whispered, "That was our best student's best art and you ruined it..."
"I'm sure he can...whip up another," Harry blinked innocently, often getting away with things by kissing the greasy-haired professor whose hair only appeared greasy- it was quite soft and dry.
"Not this time- that took two years, Potter," he glared maliciously, "Today you will tell him exactly what you did and help him create a first place painting and in turn you must participate in an extraciricular activity in the srping festival- you have three months. Wait here," he turned on his heel and leaving him alone.
Harry stared up and swore he saw a tear fall from the angel's eye.
He heard a gasp that made him jump, "My...my...my angel....." Draco murmured, bringing his hand to his signature.
"Look-"
"Do you know who did this?" Draco asked, tears shining in his big, beautiful, blue eyes.
Harry felt ashamed for once in his life and shook his head, "Not a clue...but...I'lll help you redo another.."
"If someone hated my picture so badly," Draco wiped away a tear, "I don't want to ever paint again," he turned and ran down the hallway, but Harry was quicker.
He grabbed Draco's wrist, "C'mon, let's show those....deliquints...who's boss! We'll show them!" He held out his hand.
Draco stared at it.
"Harry Potter..."
Draco took it, "Draco Malfoy..."
"We'll start today...in the..." he tried to think of somewhere where his friends wouldn't find him, "The playground!"
"Okay," Draco beamed up at him.
(Osiris~ title is underconstruction- may change!)
Draco Malfoy, 15, wiped the sweat from his eyes and stepped back as his eyes scanned avidly.
"Perfect..." he whispered, taking the paint brush once more and scribbled his signature.
He glanced at it once more- an angel with large white wings perched, her legs both on the left, facing the viewer, on the back of a motorcycle, her long white-golden hair floating majestically; her almost transparent wings not blocking the view of a dark-haired man with bright green eyes and a lightning bolt on the shoulder of his leather jacket.
He wiped the paint off his cheek, only succeeding to get more on, and smiled at the completion of his two year project.
Getting everything into perspective, shadowing, inking, painting, it all paid off just to get a look at it.
He was sure to get at least second place.
He turned his back and washed his hands under the sink in the corner of the room, took one last look and left, closing the door tightly and locking it after him.
**
"Draco Malfoy!" his mother, Narcissa, chided, "Past eight! I don't know what's gotten into you lately," she sighed and put a plate of rice and fried beef into his hands, "Eat. Then wash your face, you've gotten pastel on it."
"Yes, mum," he took the foot and chewed on the chopsticks until he reached his room. A terrible pain filled is heart and he dropped the food into the trash can trying to figure out what it meant...
**Next Morning**
Harry Potter, 15, grinned, "What a prick," he sneered, then took a pose- his feet together, his back straight, and his hands together, "'Peeeerfect," he crooned causing his best friends Hermione Granger, Ron, George, and Fred Weasley to burst into laughter.
"What do you say we trash it?" Fred asked, his eyes shining with mischeif.
"Moi? Trash art?!" Harry threw a look that shone with false offense, "Never!"
"Then I'll start!" Hermione took a paint scraper (really sharp knives bent at a point) and tossed it to Harry who caught it by the handle.
"So these art geeks can have knives, but I can't?" he asked with mock sadness, but let Geoge throw one first.
It landed right between the biker's eyes.
"Y'know, if you tilt your head like this and squint your eyes, it looks alot like you!" Ron contorted his face.
They laughed.
"You look like you're trying to shit," Hermione handed him a scraper.
"She's not very pretty," Ron jabbed it into her heart.
Fred splashed red paint across the angel.
They heard movement.
Hermione quickly looked outside, "Snape! Scatter!" she whispered.
Hermi went out the window, Ron went out hte back door, and Fred and George went out the other window.
Harry was about to leap out a window, but a thin hand gripped onto his arm.
"Potter," he whispered, "That was our best student's best art and you ruined it..."
"I'm sure he can...whip up another," Harry blinked innocently, often getting away with things by kissing the greasy-haired professor whose hair only appeared greasy- it was quite soft and dry.
"Not this time- that took two years, Potter," he glared maliciously, "Today you will tell him exactly what you did and help him create a first place painting and in turn you must participate in an extraciricular activity in the srping festival- you have three months. Wait here," he turned on his heel and leaving him alone.
Harry stared up and swore he saw a tear fall from the angel's eye.
He heard a gasp that made him jump, "My...my...my angel....." Draco murmured, bringing his hand to his signature.
"Look-"
"Do you know who did this?" Draco asked, tears shining in his big, beautiful, blue eyes.
Harry felt ashamed for once in his life and shook his head, "Not a clue...but...I'lll help you redo another.."
"If someone hated my picture so badly," Draco wiped away a tear, "I don't want to ever paint again," he turned and ran down the hallway, but Harry was quicker.
He grabbed Draco's wrist, "C'mon, let's show those....deliquints...who's boss! We'll show them!" He held out his hand.
Draco stared at it.
"Harry Potter..."
Draco took it, "Draco Malfoy..."
"We'll start today...in the..." he tried to think of somewhere where his friends wouldn't find him, "The playground!"
"Okay," Draco beamed up at him.