Author's Note: This is really the first fic that I've written in awhile. It all started because I had nothing better to do in Science class. Please forgive any errors that may be embedded in the story.
Disclaimer: I really don't think that you'd get very much if you tried to sue me anyway but just to get rid of all that legal nonsense I'd like to state that I do not own Harry Potter. The wonderful, beautiful fabulous, spiffing, genius, ect. JK Rowling does. Anything else you recognize doesn't belong to me either. I do however own the plot (as far as I know), a crayon, a pack of gum, a string, 2 hair ties and my soul (for the time being).
Express YourselfChapter 1: The Room
He couldn't stand it anymore, all the happy people walking around, laughing and joking. What made it worse was that 2 of those people happened to be his best friends, although in their case they were flirting. So he snapped, he threw the essay he was working on onto the table and walked out of the portrait without a word to the ensemble of people who had congregated in the common room after classes.
It was really hard to explain what he was feeling because there were so many emotions running through him all at once. He felt guilt for all the deaths he had caused. He felt anger for the no win situations his "destiny" had put him in and for the fact that no one seemed to understand He felt lonely because he didn't have anyone to talk to about how he felt. And he felt left out because his best friends seemed to always be leaving him to pursue "couple time".
Even though he was happy that Ron and Hermione finally figured out that they were meant to be together he wished that things could go back to the way they used to be when it was the three of them. Without his two best friends Harry was lost. And although he would loath to admit it, he was jealous. Harry wanted someone to love like that, someone who would love him back the same way.
While Harry was thinking he had been walking aimlessly around the castle. When he finally began to care where he was going he found himself in a part of the castle that he had never seen before. 'Great, now I'm lost. I'm going to be stuck in the maze of hallways and die of starvation.'
(A.N. Quite the drama queen, isn't he?)
That was when everyone's favorite Gryffindor found it. He was looking for a way back to a more familiar corridor when Harry saw this room at the end of that hall.
It almost seemed to be calling to him and before he even realized what he was doing he was standing in the middle of it. The room was huge, with whitewashed walls. There was a table in the middle of it that was covered with paint splatters of many different colors. Next to the door where Harry had entered was a huge chest and to the right of that he found a bookcase. On the other end of the end of the room sat a couch, and coffee table in front of a fireplace.
Harry's Gryffindor curiosity got the better of him. He went over to the chest and began to look through it. He found tubes of paint, paintbrushes, pencils, erasers, and paper. The paper was kind of yellow but the paint was defiantly still usable. When he took a closer look at the bookcase he found that it was covered with old art books. The room obviously hadn't been used in years.
He fell in love with it immediately, it was exactly what his jumbled brain needed, a way to express himself, a way to get out all those feelings that had been stewing inside him for so long. And a secluded place to do it in.
Harry decided to make this room his own. He wanted it to scream what he was feeling because he couldn't say it out loud. So our little Vango got to work, picking out supplies and beginning his self appointed task.
Hours later the walls were covered with the beginnings of a large mural. He glanced at his watch and was jolted back to reality. 'Fuck! I'm later for dinner!'
He prepared for an interrogation about where he was, cleaned up and ran to the great hall as fast as he could.
Everyone was already there and it looked like they were almost finished.
"Harry! Where were you?" Hermione asked. She looked like she had been worried and Harry almost felt bad for the way he just got up and left like that. He gave her an apologetic smile and answered, "I'm sorry, I just needed some air."
"You really shouldn't be wandering around like that, it's dangerous. You could have..."
"Mione, Harry's fine, leave it." Cut in Ron. Harry sighed as he sensed the brewing of yet another one of their flirty fights.
"You know what? I'm not really hungry, I'll talk to you guys later." And with that he got up and strode out of the Great Hall. He was thinking about whether or not to go back to the room when he hit a solid, moving object. Both he and the object fell to the cold stone floor in a tangle of limbs and shouts.
"Hey! Watch where you're...Oh it's you." Said a voice from above Harry. Apparently the object he ran into was a person, but not just any person, Draco Malfoy.
"Nice to see you too, Malfoy. And as much as I'm enjoying this little encounter all good things must come to an end. So if you wouldn't mind getting off me I'll be on my way."
Malfoy looked embarrassed as he got up and left without another word. 'That's it. The world has gone nutters! And did I just see Draco Malfoy blush? Maybe I'm going crazy.' With a sigh Harry headed up to Gryffindor tower to finish the essay he had been working on before.
The next day after classes he decided to go back up to the room and work on his drawing.
But when he got there he found that his drawing had been continued. Harry walked closer to it and really looked at the wall. It seemed that someone had picked up where he left off.
Harry wanted to be mad that someone intruded into his space but he couldn't bring himself to be. There was something about the new parts of the mural that pulled him in. They bother contrasted and blended with Harry's part at the same time. It was like the artist understood what Harry was going through and he was trying to tell Harry his story.
Harry had a sudden urge to answer the mystery artist. He picked up his supplies and began to paint.
And that's how it began, a sorted love affair with a painting and the artist behind it.