Bloom Again /James Potter/ ❁book 2❁

❁Chapter 14❁

[so i think i'm the worst at taking a break but i'm still on a break i've just been procrastinating a whole lot]

Chapter 14

Bea knew it wasn't exactly safe for herself to use a ladder in her art gallery considering she was apart of the clumsiest family alive. Both her and Remus were extremely clumsy, so much so that Remus was able to hide his entire identity of being a werewolf because being so clumsy was so completely plausible that no one cared to think otherwise.

And Bea was no different.

She had dragged the ladder from one of the many closets that the castle offered when a plan popped into her head that she thought would lead to an interesting outcome. She had hauled up as many cans of paint onto the ladder and soon flicked her wand so that they levitated beside her and followed her around as she painted.

It started with a vine painted with the dark green paint that dripped down her dungarees, it trailed over the wooden panels of the ceiling and she was slightly terrified of how high up she was, but she decided to ignore it.

But when she couldn't reach the very top of the ceiling, she decided the ladder was no good for her and pushed herself on to the wooden panel, sitting there with her paintbrush in her mouth and four more paintbrushes she was using of different shapes and sizes. She was getting the hang of painting she thought, and detail was coming naturally to her, but Beau said it wasn't very surprising considering she spent every single day painting for hours upon end.

She puffed out some air, her back hunched over as she stroked the paintbrush over the wood, the yellow stood out over the dark brown wood and she decided to use the wood as the middle of the sunflower she was painting to sprout from the vines.

"Bea!"

"Jesus!" she shrieked, eyes wide and looking down to see Beau at the door with eyes just as wide and disbelief in his eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he exclaimed, closing the door behind him with his arms flailing around him in exasperation, "you're going to fucking kill yourself you fucking idiot!"

"Been there, done that," she grumbled with an eye-roll, "throw me that book up."

"I don't have the best aim!" he called, muttering some colourful words under his breath when she merely glared at him.

"If I hit you with it then it's not my fault!" he grinned cheekily, eyes scanning the room until he spotted the ladder and decided just to climb up to her with the book in his hand, "what is it anyway?"

"I believe it's a book," she said simply, grabbing it from his hand and rolling her eyes when he leaned his head on the wooden panel she was sitting on.

"Your sarcasm isn't appreciated."

"Is it ever?" she huffed, flipping through the book until she found the page she was looking for. She kept it open with her knee resting on the page and Beau absentmindedly twiddled the lace of her converse in his hand as he watched her paint the sunflower.

"Why don't you let your friends in here?" he asked.

"You're my friend," she only replied with, trying to steer herself away from the conversation but he merely rolled his eyes.

"Your other friends," he said, grumbling something about her being a smart arse and sounding completely odd with his accent.

"Look at my paintings," she whispered, eyes focusing solely on the sunflower, "they are...are memories of that time, how I can portray that in paintings, the red is the blood. But I've drawn you so many times that it's like second nature, and I've drawn flowers, but every turn is another dark painting, something I don't want them to...to see."