mirror // pansy parkinson

thirteen

For the past three days, I spent most of my time painting.

I discovered some paint in Carter's room in which I went into without his consent. There were also canvas, and an art stand left unattended at a corner of his room.

I didn't know what were they before he told me, of course.

He was horrified by me going into his room but he wasn't mad. He just rolled his eyes but muttered something about locking the door.

Pansy asked them what they were. He did, said it was his art supplies.

'You can take those if you like,' he said, sitting on his bed as I scoured through his supplies on the floor. 'I don't use them anyway.'

'I would if I knew how to,' I answered, looking at a weird board with some dents. 'What did you say this is?'

'A palette.'

'These things are really odd.'

'Muggles stuff are odd.'

'Muggle? I wasn't aware you're a muggleborn.'

He shook his head. 'I am a pureblood, hate to burst your bubble. My aunt married a muggle. He gave me those things when I visited them.'

'Interesting,' I said, examining the palette. 'So you're pretty exposed to muggles, huh?'

'I guess you can say that,' he said. 'Being a muggle is less complicated than a wizard.'

'I, for one, like being a witch.'

'Well, if it's on a different circumstances I might enjoy it.'

Carter had told me that he had experienced no normality. He never went to a school like Hogwarts (he was nearly enrolled in Beauxbatons but Greta refused), never had friends and learned boring stuff with his mother. He was not exactly keen on being a healer type.

'I s'pose you want me to teach you how to work this?' Carter asked, swiftly changing tacks.

'That'll be wonderful.' 

Carter just grinned.

Three days after that, I developed an interest in painting. It was like a therapy for me. Like a numbing spell, where I can forget about things.

'Bloody hell, stay still, will you?'

'I am!'

Carter was currently sitting in a manly position on a stool, looking far too attractive for me. His dark curls shone in the light, his right arm was extended and his face was pale, showing the slight freckles on his face.  He had a jawline as sharp as his bony, curt and long fingers.

'No you're not, stop titling your head.'

'Well excuse me for being uncomfortable.'

I completely ignored this as my brush worked its way on the canvas, using my wand to control its movements.

'Ah damn– I messed up your hair.'

'How dare you,' he playfully said.

I scrunched my nose up as I undo the stroke.

When I got to his eyes, it took me a while to figure out a color. I mostly used my wand to form a specific color (we learned that as a side lesson in school) but I had a hard time to figure it out.

'Are we done yet?' he whined, still haven't moved an inch.

'Can't get your eye color right.'

'Just add some blue.'