Walking a wire between pain and desire Characters: Faelan, Padma Summary: An afternoon in the sun
Biting his lip, Faelan stroked his paintbrush in experimental swirls, watching as blue swished through green, smearing the colours over purple in round, textured circles. He liked the effect, but wouldn’t have really cared if he didn’t. He was just messing around, painting nothing in particular, as he sometimes did when he was thinking about things other than art.
The small canvas rested on his knees, and he sat under a flowering tree on the grounds of Haven’s Loft, back to the trunk, while Padma lay on her side at his feet, reading. While he glanced down at her, a breeze swirled past them, sending a few white petals from the tree branches down onto Faelan’s canvas. He left them there, painting their edges into place on the canvas, trying to decide if the result was beautiful or hideous.
After a moment, he scowled, dipping his brush in a jar of water to clean it. He couldn’t even paint abstract art that he didn’t even care about without getting confused. Everything was confusing these days. Ever since the battle in Hogsmeade and his stint as a furry household pet, nothing had felt normal. Magic was going haywire all over the place, and he was tired of reading theories out of books because he couldn’t learn how to do any spells. No one was ever home, and when they were, they all talked to each other in quiet voices, looking like they hadn’t showered or slept or eaten properly in a while, and when he asked questions, he never got straight answers anymore. Harry’s friend Hermione was in hospital again and no one could explain why, and now Regulus was sleeping in a spare room, and when he’d asked Gaius why that was, he’d gotten a vague “it’s safer for him for a while”, with no explanation of safer from what.
Even Padma didn’t have time for him. He looked at her again, trying to figure out what she was reading, but she looked very serious about it and didn’t seem to be relaxed at all. She’d been as busy as everyone else lately, but she never explained why she looked so tired or where she’d been whenever he mentioned having come down to see her the day before. For a while, he assumed she was off visiting her new nephew, but he thought she’d seem happier about that.
Glumly, he splashed a few drops of white onto the canvas and began feathering it out, making the whole thing look like an oddly coloured starburst. He didn’t really care that everyone seemed too distracted to take the time or inclination for a real conversation. What bothered him was that he felt bothered in the first place and couldn’t figure out why. But he just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing out on something that either no one else was noticing, or that everyone assumed had nothing to do with him.
He knew he was being a moody brat, but everyone had seemed so concerned about him when he had four legs, he kind of thought they’d act happier to see him now that he was back on two.