Author: Edesina
Beta: -
Rating: M
Characters: Ginny Weasley, unknown artist
Genre:Horror, Artistic text
Summary: Cold air caressed her body yet the cuts were burning feverishly. The blade burned her like lava, artist's gentle touch froze her skin.
Disclaimer: Santa Claus didn't give HP to me even though I wished…
A/N: Actually, this is one of my favourites I have written this far (well, the original version at least). I don't tell who I think is the artist. You can put in her place any Slytherin you want.
The Short Syllabus of Painting
Light and shade danced on a girl's black robe, her blonde hair and on the emerald green tie. She walked around the room, setting on firewhite candles and watching how golden-red flame ate the black wick. Warm thread of light charged at the darkness mercilessly and revealed more of the room.
Leather book shelves were revealed as well as large canvas that was leaning against grey wall. By a large chandelier rested a silver ritual knife with ancient lettering engraved on its to the knife were a handful of different kinds of paintbrushes.
The girl walked on the table, on it was a naked girl who couldn't move an inch. Tights ropes tied her on the table. A Slytherin girl watched another girl for a moment, satisfaction warmed her cold eyes. She had spent weeks to find an appropriate girl and even more time to lure the girl with her – alone. She had wanted a red-head although they (they weren't persons, only tools) were rare in the Hogwarts. Red-head with only pure-blood running through its veins was even more unusual.
The blonde watched Ginerva Weasley's pleasing figure and made sure that blood-traitor saw how she picked the ritual knife and she flashed an evil smile when the red-head paled. The silver blade gleamed and few ruby droplets stained Weasley's white skin.
"Well, Weasley, be a good girl and this will be over quickly," the Slytherin commanded with a low voice. She met the pleading brown eyes without feeling a slightest emotion and chose a small brush. A light touch dried the blood droplets and the artist turned away.
Two steps were required to narrow the distance between the table and the canvas. The artist hesitated a moment, examined the rust-red paintbrush strokes. The canvas was painted in titanium white and the contours were highlighted by the shiny whiteness. On the ground was silver flower sea.
The blonde Slytherin sketched a fluffy bunny, red blood whitened after every brush and eventually the bunny was almost pink. When the blood dried it looked light brown.
The artist to get more paint and she cut a long but thin wound running on the redhead's collar-bone. She let the paintbrush follow the new cut. The silky touch caused shivers to dance on the Weasley's skin. And for a moment she worked with the canvas. She didn't even bother to play with the redhead when she needed more blood. She just made new cut every time without bothering to look.
Ginny watched the artist's painting. Cold air caressed her body yet the cuts were burning feverishly. The blade burned her like lava, artist's gentle touch froze her skin. She was freezing cold and burning hot at the same time and the paintbrush left red marks on her skin. Blood, her blood, was on the canvas, on her lips where the brush was right now, playing with her lips, making her want to be kissed.
The movement stopped and Ginny glanced at the artist's face. The blonde looked at the canvas but her eyes were empty. After an eternity she walked to a bookshelf and picked one bottle of many similar. She dipped another paintbrush in the bottle and leaned towards the flower sea. She touched the flowers gently and they glittered in the candlelight like the Slytherin had covered them with frozen veil that covered trees in the middle winter.
Nodding satisfied she walked back to the Weasley girl. It was girl's turn now. She followed fair skin with the blade all the way from fingers to shoulder. The blade, even though it was sharp, didn't leave a cut unless she wanted. The atmosphere was literally on the edge of the blade.
When Weasley flinched, the knife scratched the skin barely over the wrist. Few ruby tears stained the whiteness and shattered the horror-filled harmony of the room. The artist stared blood, this was what art was supposed to be. Cruel yet beautiful, ruthless yet fragile. Cold smile tugged her lips as she leaned to taste the blood of blood-traitor.
Then she let the blade taste the same euphoria. Cuts left marks in the girl's skin and brush spread blood droplets as thin protection against the world. The dagger danced stinging every now and then, leaving path of blood behind. Light and shadow was engraved skillfully in Weasley's naked form.
Ginny moaned as the Slytherin painted on her. A dragon carving snaked its way around her hand. It was far from painful but pain disappeared as cold and endless pain numbed her.
After a moment the artist switched the blood-stained paintbrush to a unicorn-brush. Hairs were harder so it was suitable for work that required even more accuracy. It was for finishing touches, not for covering as the artist called the first part of human painting.
Second part was nicer yet slightly boring. Good part was that she didn't have to listen to her girl's cries. Weasley didn't cry though. She dipped the brush ion the same color that she had used on flowers. It was silver and it sparkled like crystal.
The sticky paint mocked Ginny as the Slytherin coloured her lips. The silky brush tickled and she wanted to bite her lips to get rid of the torturing feeling. The artist continued on her cheeks and eyelids and hissed when Ginny wrinkled her nose. Nervously Ginny licked her lips – and she swallowed hard as the taste of blood with a soft promise of vanilla tangled in her mouth. Soon the aroma of chili replaced it and set her mouth burning before turning into freezing but fresh orange morning and dissolved slowly.
"Do you like it?" the artist asked, Ginny's vision was slurred and the blonde seemed – and sounded – to be far away. "The blood of unicorn."
The Gryffindor couldn't answer; words were too slippery for her tongue. Obviously the Slytherin knew the answer.
The large canvas was almost dry; blood had turned brown and the artist girl did the finishing touches on Ginny's body: her silver signature in ornamental handwriting.
Letters glimmered in a weak candlelight before the small light died. Ginny felt steel against her hands, then the ropes that had kept her still. The hollow sound of closing door meant that the Slytherin girl had faded into darkness lastingly.
Fin
A/N2: Did ya learn any new tricks? Reviews would be nice ^^