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rarepair_shorts2014-12-14 02:02 pm
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FICLET: War Orphans - 13 (Dean/Draco)
Title: War orphans - 13
Character pairing: Dean Thomas / Draco Malfoy
Prompt: prism perfect
Rating: PG
Word count: 660
AN: Challenge completed! Last part of thirteen.
Link to prompt table: here!
War Orphans - 13
Dean needed a break from his Transfiguration essay. On the other side of the table, his study partner seemed to be engrossed in theoretical Potions. He tried to figure out what he was working on but quickly let it drop and pulled out yet another portrait of Parvati he’d been drawing. He wasn’t happy with it. She was lying on a window sill in a boy’s uniform, with her knees up and an arm resting on her stomach while her other arm was thrown over her eyes. He just couldn’t get her face right, though he’d already resorted to have the arm cover half of it up, and when he’d tried to spell it to make it move, the face just shook and erased itself, leaving a blur; one of her legs twisted and seemed to dislocate itself. At that point he just wanted to put colors everywhere and hide the imperfections.
“You keep drawing her,”
Dean looked up. Malfoy was watching him, his gaze even. Dean held his gaze for a second before looking at the portrait of Parvati
“Yeah, I know. I’m obsessed with her.”
He looked back to the portrait, and then back again to Malfoy.
“She sits for me sometimes.
He drew a lot of people, but he did draw Parvati a lot more than the others; his other drawings were mostly class scenes or magical creatures; he had one of Malfoy but it wasn’t finished yet.
“Sometimes I feel like I can read everything that needs to be said on her face.”
Malfoy said nothing. Dean bit his lip thoughtfully.
“Plus, she’s hot,” he said looking up with a smirk, hoping to have elicited a knowing look or a smirk of Malfoy’s own.
It hadn’t. The other boy just looked at him, uncertain, and with a vague hum of assent he went back to his research. For a split second, Dean felt disappointed, but then he shrugged the feeling away and proceeded to color the bad picture.
…
It was funny, now that he thought of it, how things had evolved since then. Back then, Draco had been so sure Parvati was the only thing Dean ever thought about. Now he knew Dean was still obsessed, but not like that. Parvati was the subject of his most elaborate drawings but his drawing pad was thick with quick portraits and details and creatures of all sorts—whatever caught his eye or crossed his mind.
They were sitting outside in the park, in the shadow of the East wall, their legs close, and Dean had let him take his folder and browse through the collaged pages. Draco wasn’t sure whether the sheer quantity of it made him sick or awed.
Dean’s hand appeared and grabbed several pages at once, expertly yet unceremoniously, until he found one in particular. “Look at this one.”
It was him, reading a book with a quill in his hand, presumably at the library.
“Merlin, do I look depressed,” Draco said, wrinkling his nose.
Dean chuckled. “Yea, but look what happens when I make it move.”
He flicked his wand over the drawing and his charcoal self slowly, almost imperceptibly looked up, shooting an intense look—of longing?—at whomever was facing him.
Draco shuddered. “Did you actually see me do that?” he dared ask, his voice faint.
“Not when I did it,” said Dean, smirking in a way that made Draco feel self-conscious. “I think—maybe I wanted you to look like that, and it just showed when I charmed the parchment. Isn’t it hot?”
Draco felt torn.
“I feel naked.”
Dean’s smirk altered.
“Yea, shut up,” Draco said, looking away.
Dean took his hand, drawing Draco’s attention again. He just gazed at their loosely entwined fingers, brushing his thumb over Draco’s knuckle, still smiling.
“Never show it to anyone,” Draco said. “And I mean, not even Parvati. Or, Merlin forbid, Finnigan… Please.”
Dean’s small grin never left.
“I won’t.”
Back to part 12 / Back to prompt table
Character pairing: Dean Thomas / Draco Malfoy
Prompt: prism perfect
Rating: PG
Word count: 660
AN: Challenge completed! Last part of thirteen.
Link to prompt table: here!
Dean needed a break from his Transfiguration essay. On the other side of the table, his study partner seemed to be engrossed in theoretical Potions. He tried to figure out what he was working on but quickly let it drop and pulled out yet another portrait of Parvati he’d been drawing. He wasn’t happy with it. She was lying on a window sill in a boy’s uniform, with her knees up and an arm resting on her stomach while her other arm was thrown over her eyes. He just couldn’t get her face right, though he’d already resorted to have the arm cover half of it up, and when he’d tried to spell it to make it move, the face just shook and erased itself, leaving a blur; one of her legs twisted and seemed to dislocate itself. At that point he just wanted to put colors everywhere and hide the imperfections.
“You keep drawing her,”
Dean looked up. Malfoy was watching him, his gaze even. Dean held his gaze for a second before looking at the portrait of Parvati
“Yeah, I know. I’m obsessed with her.”
He looked back to the portrait, and then back again to Malfoy.
“She sits for me sometimes.
He drew a lot of people, but he did draw Parvati a lot more than the others; his other drawings were mostly class scenes or magical creatures; he had one of Malfoy but it wasn’t finished yet.
“Sometimes I feel like I can read everything that needs to be said on her face.”
Malfoy said nothing. Dean bit his lip thoughtfully.
“Plus, she’s hot,” he said looking up with a smirk, hoping to have elicited a knowing look or a smirk of Malfoy’s own.
It hadn’t. The other boy just looked at him, uncertain, and with a vague hum of assent he went back to his research. For a split second, Dean felt disappointed, but then he shrugged the feeling away and proceeded to color the bad picture.
It was funny, now that he thought of it, how things had evolved since then. Back then, Draco had been so sure Parvati was the only thing Dean ever thought about. Now he knew Dean was still obsessed, but not like that. Parvati was the subject of his most elaborate drawings but his drawing pad was thick with quick portraits and details and creatures of all sorts—whatever caught his eye or crossed his mind.
They were sitting outside in the park, in the shadow of the East wall, their legs close, and Dean had let him take his folder and browse through the collaged pages. Draco wasn’t sure whether the sheer quantity of it made him sick or awed.
Dean’s hand appeared and grabbed several pages at once, expertly yet unceremoniously, until he found one in particular. “Look at this one.”
It was him, reading a book with a quill in his hand, presumably at the library.
“Merlin, do I look depressed,” Draco said, wrinkling his nose.
Dean chuckled. “Yea, but look what happens when I make it move.”
He flicked his wand over the drawing and his charcoal self slowly, almost imperceptibly looked up, shooting an intense look—of longing?—at whomever was facing him.
Draco shuddered. “Did you actually see me do that?” he dared ask, his voice faint.
“Not when I did it,” said Dean, smirking in a way that made Draco feel self-conscious. “I think—maybe I wanted you to look like that, and it just showed when I charmed the parchment. Isn’t it hot?”
Draco felt torn.
“I feel naked.”
Dean’s smirk altered.
“Yea, shut up,” Draco said, looking away.
Dean took his hand, drawing Draco’s attention again. He just gazed at their loosely entwined fingers, brushing his thumb over Draco’s knuckle, still smiling.
“Never show it to anyone,” Draco said. “And I mean, not even Parvati. Or, Merlin forbid, Finnigan… Please.”
Dean’s small grin never left.
“I won’t.”
Back to part 12 / Back to prompt table