𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐚¹- hp.

𝐱𝐢𝐢. my nightmares have come to life.

(brief mentions of assault and blood, please read with caution.)

꧁—— ❦ ——꧂

Nimbostratus clouds wept whispers through the town days later, forewarned commination tucked away in the persistent pitter-patter, smothered beneath roaring laughter.

A subtle chilled breeze buried malaise within her bones through the open window as drapes flowed in warning, tangled sheets sprawled across the bed, paint splattered on the floor, her endeavour for a distraction.

Harry huffed, placing the paintbrush in a water cup. "You make this look easier than it actually is."

"You just need to be imaginative." Lavinia laughed. "No one said it had to be perfect. Swirl the paint around, paint some lines, whatever you want to do in the moment you should do."

"I was certainly not born to be a painter, that's for sure." Harry snorted, staring at his canvas in dissatisfaction.

Lavinia leaned forward to rest on her crossed knees, palms flat against the wooden floor, and rolled her eyes. For his first time painting it wasn't even a poor attempt, substandard at best, but nonetheless it was alright. She could tell he'd gotten irritated halfway through, smearing black in various spots over shades of blue, speckles of white here and there. Pushing the edge of the canvas with one hand, she turned it around so the black was nearest to him, sitting back down.

"Oh honestly, Harry, where the black ends hold the brush vertically and swipe up with less pressure. It'll look like trees. Run your thumb over the tip of the brush and it'll spray more white paint over the blue, and paint a white circle in the middle if you're that unsatisfied. It'll look like a starry night."

Harry nodded, furrowing his brows as he imagined the outcome. "Now that's a brilliant idea."

"Now go back to painting, you toe." Lavinia said.

"You really just called me a toe? For someone who just said I had to be imaginative, that was a boring insult." Harry smirked as he raised his brow.

Lavinia pinched the bridge of her nose, snickering. "My apologies. I'll be more creative next time."

"That's what I like to hear." Harry laughed.

Lavinia rolled her eyes once again, dipping her brush into the orange for the pond of koi fish she was painting. There were only so many times one could paint the moon before it was considered too many. She had hoped that by suggesting they paint, the unease coursing through her veins would settle, but the feeling of trepidation suffocated every breath she took. Unfortunately, her intuition had never been wrong before.

After a while Harry placed the paintbrush down, clearing his throat. "I need to tell you something."

She warily looked up, "Yes?"