419. Ravenclaws started a trend where they’d dress in another house’s colors to support the other house and promote general house acceptance. The Hufflepuffs quickly caught on, and soon you couldn’t tell a person’s house by looking at them
Ah, to kick off imagine challenge week, I want to start with Asha ( @burchly ). I think I might take a sort of AU direction with these, try my hand at it for once. I hope you enjoy. I think you’ll agree with me when I say: it screams you.
Although these are ‘personal’ imagines, I still used Y/N so everyone could relate and read.
Apart from the occasional humming that escapes your lips, which are pressed together tightly in due concentration with your eyebrows furrowed and your y/e/c eyes just a few inches below them, narrowed in complete focus as you tilt your wand at a different angle, changing the direction of your stroke slightly. You pause, licking your lips once, and take a step back to glance at your work so far. The canvas, propped up on the desk in front of you is quite literally glowing, perhaps it could be attributed to the sunlight that’s beaming in throughout the room.
Professor Slughorn, had somehow gotten you access to the room for yourself. “I reckon you’d like to try doing it with a little more light than in the dungeons during my potions class.” He had added with a wink while handing you the canvas, when you had raised your eyebrows at him in curiosity.
“I don’t paint during class, Professor.” You had protested, setting the canvas down next to you on the floor.
“Doodle, draw, whatever you call it.” He pressed on, clasping a page of your parchment in between his index finger and thumb, a piece of parchment that was covered in doodles.
You frown slightly, biting the inside of your cheek before blowing air out of your mouth and peering up at him, “Thank you.”
So here you are, in an empty classroom with the warm autumn sun rays shining through the numerous windows, making all the dust visible in the room. Your paints, are in a messy pile to your left, haphazardly scattered and a slab of drywood is set in front of them, where you were testing the mixture of severals colors earlier.
You set your wand down, and opt to use a paintbrush for the next part, wanting to get the details as precise as possible. You brush back a lock of hair that is falling from your messy bun, and pause for a moment, lowering your hand and squinting at it, wondering if you had gotten paint in your hair. You pick up the brush you want, and run your fingers through the soft bristles, biting your bottom lip and picking up a tube of paint. Truth be told, you could opt to all of the work magically, but there was a whole other thrill to hand painting something. You dip the brush into the paint, and lean forwards, taking careful slow strokes across the canvas with just the slightest flick of your wrist.
The door opens with a rather annoying clang, and you flinch a bit at the sound, holding your brush steady mid air as you wait for the commotion to pass, before pressing it back to the canvas. You can see someone, whose shape is all too familiar too you making their way towards you from the door. “Stay on that side. I mean it.” You mumble quietly, eyes still focused on the canvas. You hear a rumbling chuckle fill the room, and you sigh, closing your eyes slightly before taking a step back from the painting to get a better view at the person it came from.
Your boyfriend, Sirius, is staring at you, sitting on top of the desk right in front of your canvas, but he can’t see your painting. He’s gazing around at your mess, the towels on the floor, the bowl of magically washing brushes and the collateral explosion of paints. “Been busy, love?” He asks, smirking up at you.
You scowl at him, setting down your brush and crossing your arms. “What’re you doing here?”
He hisses, titling his head at your slightly, “S’not how you’re supposed to greet your boyfriend, baby.” He scolds.
“Oh sod off. You know I don’t like having people around when I paint.” You counter, narrowing your eyes at him.
“And why’s that? Do I make you nervous?” He taunts, pulling on his tie and licking his lips seductively.
You roll your eyes at him in response, “Yes, that’s it.”
“Lemme see.” He says suddenly.
Your eyes widen, darting to the painting then back to him. “No! No no!” You protest, rounding the table to rush towards him, hands pressing against his chest and pushing him backwards. He laughs, loudly, at your attempt and grabs your wrists in his big hands with ease, pulling you to his chest roughly and pushing your hands back to your sides, not harshly, but with enough force to keep them there.
You whine, trying to pull away from his grasp, “It’s not done! Sirius! Don’t!” You whine , scrunching up your nose and staring up at him with a pleading look.
“Want to see what’s kept you from me all day, budge over.” He argues, trying to step around you.
You yelp, jumping to block his path. “Sirius-”
“I’m taller than you, love, not that hard too..” He trails off, placing a big hand on top of your head, making to move you aside like a small child.
You growl slightly, swatting his hand away, “SIRIUS ORION BLACK.”
This causes him to pause, looking down at you with an amused look, “Did.. did you just use my full name? What are you, my mum?”
You frown at him, scoffing a bit, “You did not just call me your mum.”
He smirks, knowing he’s distracting you. “So what if I did? What’re you going to do about it, love?” He teases, backing you into a desk.
You squeak, the back of your thighs hitting the wood, and you almost tumble backwards but his big hands are quick to steady you, a few paints clatter to the ground with a chorus of thuds.
“I- I’m going too-” You stutter, mind hazy with his sudden proximity.
He’s peering down at you, smirking as usual, as you blink furiously. This is precisely why you didn’t like having him around when you painted, he was so bloody distracting.
“Going to what, love? Teach me a lesson?” He presses on, hands sliding down from your waist to either side of you, trapping you to the desk.
“I bloody hate you.” You mutter between grit teeth.
“Do you really, baby?” He asks, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. He’s giving you the eyes, and you melt immediately.
“Not fair, you-you can’t do that.” You whisper.
“You know what, you’re goddamn puppy dog eyes you blood fu-”
He cuts you off, lips on your and swallowing the rest of your obscenity. “Such a filthy little mouth you got, baby.” He scolds, after pulling away. His other hand releases your waist, reaching up to brush his thumb across the corner of your mouth, grazing your bottom lip slightly. You frown, feeling the coldness of his thumb and glancing down to see that he has jet blue paint on it. You squeal, turning around slightly to see that he has indeed dipped into your plate of jumbled paints.
“SIrius!” You screech, turning around to shove your hand into his chest.
“What?” He asks casually, laughing as he grabs your wrist and presses a kiss to the inside of it, his blue fingers making imprints on your forearm.
You whine, pulling away, “You’re wasting my paints!” “
Am I now?” He asks, rubbing his finger together and stepping back. He picks up an opened bottle of green paint, sticks his middle finger into it and reaches forward to slide it across your cheek. “S’not like you aren’t messy enough already, love.” He mumbles quietly, eyes falling down to your paint splattered uniform shirt. You can feel his eyes wandering elsewhere, silently referring to other messes.
“Sirius don’t you da-”
But he’s already pressing his hands against your cheeks, bringing your face closer to his, with his lips messy against yours. You whine, as he steps between your legs and gets closer again. The coldness of his hands isn’t really relevant now, long forgotten and now replaced by the warmth spreading from his cheeks to yours. You aren’t giving in that easily though as you let your hands fall back to brace yourself, and you dips your own fingers into the familiar paint. You pull away quickly, pressing your hands against his cheeks and his mouth pops open in an ‘O’ shape, before he smirks up at you, “Want to play dirty, huh baby?”
And you giggle, standing up and backing away with hands held up in surrender. He grins, grabbing his wand, ‘Accio!” He casts, pointing to a opened bottle of purple paint and stepping after you.
“Sirius! Don’t!” You cry, ducking as a line of purple paint shoots towards you. “C’mon love, wanted to play, didn’t ya?” He taunts, loosening his tie with his wand free hand as he runs after you.
And suddenly, it’s an explosion, paints flying left and right and squeals being exchanged with giggles and chuckles. The room is no longer quiet, but the sudden music is exactly what you needed.
It’s you, coming to a stop and panting with swipes of purple and pink coloring your cheeks and orange on Sirius’ forehead as he comes to halt too. You’re both out of breath, laughing, and taking each other in.
“Looks like masterpiece.” He mumbles, reaching forward to brush hair out of your face.
You laugh shaking your head at him, “You’re cheesy.”
“You’re adorable. M’sorry, can’t help it. Even all covered in paint, you’re beautiful.” He whispers, leaning forward and pressing his lips on your forehead.
You hum contently, clutching to his sweater and pulling him closer. “Don’t look too bad yourself, love.” You reply, eyes glistening up at him. In a room full of art, you realize, you’d still stare at him.
His eyes however, are focused behind you. And when you turn around you realize it’s far too late. He steps closer to the painting observing it carefully. It’s a simple one, a picture of Sirius that is constantly in the back of your mind. His hair is messy, and he’s holding a cigarette loosely between his fingers, features pristine and wrinkles deep around his dark eyes. He looks.. blissful.
You swallow, nervously, “Is it.. Do you, erm, like it?”
“You painted me?” He asks, turning back to look at you.
“I.. yeah, yeah. It’s not done yet though, I need to fill the hair and fix the strokes on the right side and-”
“Why would you paint… me?” He asks, staring at you incredulously.
You tilt your head at him in shock, mouth slightly agape, “Wh-what? Because.. You.. Sirius…” You sigh, taking a deep breath and looking up at him,
“Because, you’re art, Sirius.”
He stares at you, wide eyed, and you falter a bit when he doesn’t respond. But it’s only for a second, before he’s in front of you, hands cupping your cheeks and desperate hungry kisses being pressed to your face, and you whine, sputtering slightly, “S-Sirius!”
But he isn’t having any of it, lips on yours, biting slightly and tongue darting into your mouth. He pulls away, after a heated moment, forehead against yours and nose slightly rubbing and yours too, “I love you. I love you.” He mumbles, eyes opening sincerely.
You smile softly, tilting your head forward to kiss his chin, “Suppose I should make you more art, hmm?”
He chuckles slightly, “Or, can make art out of you.” He counters, rubbing his thumb across the dried paint on your cheek.
The door opens, and you two pull away from each other with a jump. Slughorn stares around the room, than at you two, and finally at the canvas which had managed to turn towards the door in all the commotion of the paint fight, before he nods once, “Reckon you two will clean this up, I assume?”
“You can’t clean up ‘art’, Professor.” Sirius responds, throwing a sideways grin at you.