harry potter imagines

014.|| pda [d.t.]

Summary: A short story where the author has no idea what is she writing at all.

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Should I say sorry? Because...

[Gryffindor!Reader]

[You are going to be reaaaally good at painting.]

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P.D.A.

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You sat on one of the chairs provided in the Gryffindor common room that is facing the window, dominant hand moving in various ways as you painted the scenery of the (now) peaceful and picturesque view of the Whomping Willow down the Gryffindor tower.

You tried to paint fast, as you are trying to paint it along with the orange sunset.

You wiped some of your sweat, spreading some of the paint on your face in the process. You sighed, as you looked at the gleaming, orange rays of the sun shining on your face and inside the common room, giving a calming aura.

You glanced at your canvas, seeing an incomplete version of the scene outside the Gryffindor tower and the calm Whomping Willow that is seen only once in a blue moon.

You picked another brush from the small table where you placed your painting materials so you can get them fast when you need them.

On the other side of the table, there sat Dean Thomas, he also talented in drawing, seeing the POTTER FOR PRESIDENT banner on one of the sheets that Scabbers has ruined for the Quidditch match against Slytherin, you could tell that it was pretty amazing for an eleven year old, as he only made it when you were first years.

You snapped from your thought, and you finally grabbed the paint but then George lightly slapped your back.

"Nice work, [Name]!"

Your loose grip at the paint loosened more as he slapped your back lightly, resulting the paint to fall under the small table.

"Oops."

George said, then he walked away to catch up to Fred for their up coming prank this week.

"Oh, Merlin, I hate bending so much..."

You complained, as you bent over the table to reach for it blindly, but you never felt anything. You sighed, annoyed when you don't have the choice to just to look under it.

Again, you saw nothing but a thin coat of dust under the surface.

Looking really troubled, you looked up from the table and looked at Dean.

"Hey, Dean? Can I ask you a favour?"

He looked up from whatever he was doing and then turned at your kneeling self.

"What is it?"

"Uhh, can you help me find my paint? It just went down this table but I cannot find it anymore. Do you mind searching it with me? You can decline it if you want, you know."

He nodded, squatting down the table, head going under the surface along with yours.

You slightly laughed as you saw his furrowed eyebrows when he searched for the lost paint you two are searching for.

Then you two stopped, as your eyes met with each other, seeing the most beautiful eyes (in your opinion, of course.) you two saw.

Your gazes locked, blinking in astonishment at what you saw.

Then it got closer,

And closer,

And closer,

Just a little bit closer,

And closer, as your lips met with closed eyes.

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"And that, my friends, is PDA, A Private Display of Affection."

George bellowed, receiving a few laughs from the students.

You and Dean parted, got up and went to your own chairs while blushing furiously.

"Oh, come guys! You can just do it right at the front! You're obvious, you know! There's no need to hide!"

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