Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, and Oscar Wilde, author of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Note: Written for the 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Chall (The Picture of Dorian Gray), Harry Potter Chap Comp (Ch 3), and the "As Many As You Want" Comp (Color)

Fine Art

Harry knocked on the door of his favorite artist and sincere friend. It was a beautiful day, spring had just arrived and the buzzing of bees filled the air, bumbling happily near the star clusters of lilac blossoms nearbly. The weeping whillow waved to and fro as the wind trickled past the leaves, not so much weeping as it was dancing, welcoming the coming spring and shaking away the dreary winter.

Tucking his hands inside the pockets of his coat, for a chill was still present in the air, permeating London at least until mid-May, Harry waited patiently for a butler to open the oak door. True to his prediction, not a minute later, a young man, probably only half a decade older than himself, greeted him, bidding him to wait a moment longer so as to alert his master. As the door closed once more, Harry amused himself by examing the petals of a tiger lily, stroking the fine petals admiringly. A songbird began trilling, filling the space with sweet, high notes before another joined in, creating so beautiful a harmony.

Harry pulled out his pocketwatch, checking the ticking hands absently, releasing a soft sigh. Basil was taking longer than usual. Did he come at a bad time?

A pale face emerged slowly, cautiously, skin sticky with anxiety, more pale than Harry had ever seen before.

"Basil, dear friend! I have almost mistaken your pallor to be the very marrow of our bones! What has caused you to be so deathly afraid?"

"Oh, Harry," the artist breathed, color returning to his cheeks, "it is so good that it is this Harry and not the other, for when my servant came forth to alert me of a presence, uttering a low, 'Harry,' I perceived it to be someone else, one who shares your name. He had penned me a letter, writing that he'll visit me soon."

He opened the door wider, beckoning Harry in. Any lasting chill was washed away, submitting to the warmth from the heat of the hearth, embers roasting, flames flickering romantically.

"He must be one dreadful individual for you to express such a reaction," Harry mused, following Basil to his studio.

"Not so much dreadful, for he is still my friend. I just fear the corruption he will cause should he meet this individual."

"Someone else is present?"

"Yes, and although I enjoy Lord Henry's company (the man who shares your name), I do not trust him completely. His cynicism would alter this poor youth, and I won't be able to bear it if he were changed."

"Hmm, should I be jealous that you have found a closer companion that is not myself?" The two were now standing beside the door of the studio, quietly conversing so as to not alert the individual inside. Curiousity was steadily growing in Harry, wondering who had managed to capture Basil's attentions so completely.

"He is...," the artist paused, "someone whose beauty and spirit should be cherished. Not yet exposed to the cruelties of this world, his perspective and views are innocent and naive. He incites the need to protect, and Harry would only use that to his advantage."

"And you trust me with your fair companion?"

Basil stared into bright emerald eyes and wondered again how he had ever found such a compassionate fellow, one so good and honest, such a rarity in the world.

"I trust you with my life."

"Well, shall we meet your friend?" With that said, Harry turned the bronze knob, heart racing just a tad at the exciting prospect.

I had originally intended for this to be slash between Dorian and Harry, but this happened. I'll continue this later on :P - Aldira~