Disclaimer: How much of Harry Potter do I own? 0%

How much of Harry Potter does J.K. Rowling own? 100%

Sorry for taking so long to update, a lot of stuff has been happening that's been keeping me from writing. Plus, I'm probably not going to be getting on the computer for a while after this because I will be grounded. How do I know this? I'm getting my lip pierced this weekend and my parents don't know about it. So wish me luck!

xXx

Draco blinked rapidly as the stag bound toward the forest, where the trees swallowed him with their thick trunks and shady canopies. The first thing that popped into his head was, Why on earth did that animal's eyes make me think of Potter? He came to the conclusion that it was just how green the stag's eyes had been, and he quickly dismissed the thought. There's no way the two are connected, he thought absently.

Of course I wouldn't have had a sketchpad at such an opportune time, was his second, and much more frustrated, thought. Although, he reasoned with himself, it wouldn't have done me any good even if I had had it with me. There's no way he would have stayed still after I made noise. He shook his head as he descended the porch steps and headed toward the pen containing the hippogriffs.

Draco had been an artistic person ever since he could remember, but only his closest friends and his parents knew about his love of art. Because really, no one needed to know that the former Prince of Slytherin had such habits like drawing and painting.

When he was about five yards away from the hippogriffs, he stopped and bowed deeply. They all stopped to look at his silently and quickly bowed back. A smile stretched across Draco's face as he approached the gate of the pen. It had taken a long time to get the hippogriffs to trust him, but now that they did, he was immensely happy. He opened the gate and they trotted out, some of them stopping to nuzzle his arm as they passed. Watching them take off into the air, his smile grew. He trusted them enough to know that they would come back at dusk much like they always did.

He stayed and watched until they disappeared from view. He sighed lightly and turned to their pen. Hippogriffs were very intelligent creatures, but all living thins have to get rid of waste. Draco was just glad that they all went in the same corner. Most days he just used magic to clean their pen and feed and water them, but occasionally he liked to do the work himself. Today was a magic using day.

Draco flicked his wand lazily toward the pile of waste in the corner of the pen, causing it all to disappear into thin air. "Accio feed," he called loudly, pointing his wand toward the barn. Not even a minute later he saw two bags of special hippogriff food floating toward him. Everyone knew that hippogriffs were carnivores, but most people didn't know that they also enjoyed something else every now and then.

Once the bags were on the ground in front of him, Draco bent down, heaved on of the bags off of the ground, and balanced it, right side up, on top of the fence. He pulled roughly at the strings holding the top of the bag closed and they quickly came loose, leaving the bag open and offering chances for him to spill it. Draco dumped the contents of the bag into the closest feeding trough, and then he repeated the task with the other bag and another trough. Next he took out his wand and cast an 'aguamenti' spell on three different water troughs, filling them to the brim.

Having finished his task, Draco grabbed the empty bags and headed back toward his house. When he got inside he disposed of the trash, and headed up stairs to the room he had dubbed his 'studio'. Seeing the stag had made Draco suddenly want to capture the creature's image on paper. Choosing a variety of brown, tan, and green pencils, along with the appropriate type of sketchbook and a sharpener, Draco headed back downstairs. He stopped in the kitchen to grab another cup of coffee on his was out.

Draco set his materials in his favorite seat and proceeded to put it, and a side table, closer to the porch railing and into direct sunlight. He set the coffee on his armrest, arranged everything and got his workspace, and he began…

An hour later saw Draco with a small pile of crumpled papers beside his chair and a blank page in front of him. His elbows were on the table and his head was in his hands. He stared at the paper before him. I've never had so much trouble drawing something before, were his frustrated, and slightly baffled thoughts. Even doing things from memory has never been this hard!

Sitting back in his chair with a loud sigh of exasperation, Draco looked out over his property and toward the forest where the stag had disappeared. Why is that animal so compelling when I've only seen it once? I've seen other deer before, He thought angrily.

Sighing again, Draco reached for his supplies with intention of giving up when he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, he saw the exact same stag from earlier making it's way across the field toward his house.

Almost bursting with shock and excitement, Draco grabbed the pad of sketch paper, and a regular graphite pencil. He leaned back in his chair, brought his knees up closer to his chest and propped his sketchbook up against his knees. Draco held himself as still as possible and still draw as fast as he could when the stag stopped at the edge of his lawn. He probably came back to eat the grass, he thought absently while his hand flew across the paper.

Draco was so absorbed in his sketch that he didn't notice his elbow get closer and closer to his, now empty, coffee mug. While frantically drawing one of the stag's back legs, Draco's elbow came into contact with the cup and it fell to the floor with a loud crash.

He didn't even glance at the fallen mug because all of his attention was on the stag. It was looking at him with large, frightened eyes and Draco could almost hear it's frantic thoughts. It quickly turned its body toward the forest and started to run. Without thinking, Draco threw his hand up in protest and shouted, "Wait!" To his utter shock, the stag stopped suddenly and, after a brief pause, swung it's head around to face him.