𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇/𝐃/𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐄 2008

Painted Alive

Title: Painted Alive
Author: j_folked
Pairing: H/D
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU (Snape and Lupin live). Angst. Mentions of suicide and murder but no actual depictions.
Word count: 8,689
Summary: Draco never imagined that Wizarding paintings could be affected by Dark Magic until the artwork in Malfoy Manor gets struck by a mysterious phenomenon. Does Harry have what it takes to save the day once again?

There is no sense to this. Complete and utter rubbish is what it is. What good can writing down thoughts actually achieve, particularly when no one is to read them in the first place? Just an indulgence to one's insanity, I gather. Or, as I suspect in my case, a perpetual state of loneliness, a condition that is not viewed as proper for anybody. People around the "lonely" people will do whatever they can to cure them of such regrettable status. That is, if someone cares about you, big emphasis on the if. The other option is people not caring about you and therefore, not wasting a single moment to remind you of just how lonely and sad you are. Whichever the case is, both factions have something in common: they constantly intrude in your life, making the so called deplorable loneliness a constant issue.

I wonder, sometimes, do they ever consider that maybe people just want to be left alone? That such a thing is even possible? Perhaps they do. Perhaps what they can't fathom is someone like me wanting to be left alone. I wonder what they would think if they knew that sometimes I wish for it all to end. I'm not talking about the melodramatic I-want-to-die ending. After all, death is only a transformation of the way we exist. No, I mean just, I don't know, fade away. Like the colours of paint fade into each other to create something new, something better, and something completely different from what they were before. Yes, colour.

I guess it could be said that colour has always been part of my life. You couldn't have really grown up in here and not have an eye for colour, especially when your eyes are a rather special hue at that. When even the colour of your hair becomes your description, when it makes people want or dread to be near you. Granted, I wasn't aware of that when I was younger, only of the colour in the art, particularly the paintings. Sure, the portraits are more than mere decorations. They tell a story, the story of a great, old, bigger than life family, a story that would make many proud and others embarrassed, but a story nonetheless. Paint is the medium. Colour is the language. And it was colour that spoke to me. Sometimes I wish I could be like colour. All that potential for transformation, for change. Sometimes I wish I could change.

April 28th

The thick vapour coming from the cauldron was the unequivocal indication that the potion he had been working on for the last 45 days was indeed completed. Although there was still room for disaster -decanting the potion was sometimes as tricky as producing it- he felt satisfied, at least for the little while it took for the potion to get down from boiling to a slight simmer. Once this process was finished, he started the pouring of the potion. Deeply engrossed in the process he barely heard the door of the room opening. It was almost a disgrace how he had let his guard down those days, he thought. In the past he would've been able to hear the board just outside the door creak before the person attempting to enter his working room even had the chance to place their hand on the doorknob. He would have waited for the transgressor behind the soon to be opened door, wand at the ready and a hex already forming on his lips. The good old days.

"Has someone passed away?" he didn't stop his work; neither he turned to look to see who had walked in the room.

"Excuse me?" his puzzled lover asked.

"You are full aware of the importance of both the safe handling and the precision with which my work needs to be done. Thus the importance of not interrupting me while I am doing such delicate and precise work. Especially when I'm dealing with volatile potions as you must be well aware I'm doing right now since I took the provision of informing you this morning of what exactly I was going to be working on. Since you don't really have a death wish, the logical conclusion is that something very tragic has come to pass. Being that death is such a tragic occasion -some may deem it to be the most tragic of them all- it is safe to assume that you would only dare to interrupt me in such a situation, knowing full well nothing more would need my immediate attention. Although Merlin knows it is debatable if the demise of certain people is tragic after all..."