Paint You Wings ✔️

Chapter 3

Working for his father's business tended to be incredibly boring if Draco was being honest with himself. But then again, boring could be applied to a lot of things in his life. He didn't have friends, he had business associates and "connections." Nothing worthwhile, aside from his mother. She was his best friend, and would also cover up for him should he need to get away for some time.

It was another tedious day of screening potential investors when Draco received a fax. This wasn't something particularly unusual, however he typically clocked out at 5pm and it was currently half past.

He finished up his last bit of work for the day, warily eyeing the fax machine the whole time. This led to him finishing rather quickly as he was naturally a curious man. Promising he would double check his paperwork again in the morning, he strolled over to the machine with purpose, wondering if it was just tomorrow's lunch specials from his favorite cafe.

The paper was quickly dropped to the ground as if its very contents had scorched Draco. Was this his father's idea of a joke? A harmless prank?

Carefully picking the paper up with two fingers as if it would cause him harm, Draco dropped it onto his desk to observe it. Any time his father had decided to "prank" Draco, his elaborate scrawl was always present in some way, shape, or form like a calling card. That was his way of taking credit for Draco's misery, making sure he didn't step one millimeter out of line.

Grabbing a magnifying glass, Draco poured over the artwork. After going over it once, he was satisfied that this was not the work of his father. His signature always stood out. No, a real artist knew how to disguise their signature in a way that it became a part of the painting. This would deter copycats as they would have to meticulously search to find it, and replicate it in such a way that it would look authentic.

Lip sucked in between his teeth, Draco wondered if he should look for this person's signature. He couldn't help but be curious, especially as he appreciated each intricate brush stroke. His wonder quickly turned into anger as he remembered how he wasn't able to create art anymore, and here this person was shoving their art into his face. With a look of disgust, he shoved it into an empty folder, then slammed it into a desk drawer.

"Out of sight, out of mind", he reassured himself, sighing deeply.

Harry on the other hand had no clue his artwork had been treated in such a manner. Going home to see his dads for dinner, he didn't even think to check to make sure that his artwork was properly sent. What reason did he have to think otherwise? There was a picture on his phone that he could show them, and that translated the artwork much better anyway.

The fax machine made the colors too flat, too dull. Each individual brushstroke didn't translate well either. Nothing could beat looking at his artwork in person. The walls of their home were filled with Harry's paintings throughout the years, accompanied by some of his mother's that they had been able to save. Where there wasn't artwork, there were photographs filling up the walls in between. Their home was lived in and lively, a stark contrast to the Malfoys' seemingly sterile home.

Soon enough, a new spark would be ignited in Draco's life, lighting the fire of rebellion Lucius tried so hard to keep at bay. It's funny really, how what Lucius thought would finally force Draco to follow in his exact footsteps gave him the key to his freedom. The end to Lucius's cruel and vicious streak was in sight, he just didn't know he would be the cause of his own undoing.