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Drabble #12 - Enough

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Jul. 27th, 2006 | 12:07 pm

Title: Enough.
Fandom: Harry Potter.
Author: Ellie M.
Challenge/Prompt: None.
Pairing: Ginny Weasley/Anthony Goldstein.
Genre: More Angst!
Rating: PG-13 for nudity.
Word Count: 687.

Synopsis: He asked if he could paint her.

Author's Notes:

More angst with Ginny and Anthony, because that's all my Ginny muse seems to want me to write. Enjoy!


It was almost as if she were aflame.

Shadows of ginger caressed her pale skin, freckles flickering to life and just as smoothly melting back into the abyss of darkness that engulfed the cold room; heavy drapes hung over the stained glass windows, blotting out the sunlight that seemed almost impossible now, with the fire roaring high in its grate, the low pop and crackle the only sounds present in the draughty room.

Tongues of flame licked over her milky shoulder as her hair flowed down her back in an elegantly tumbling mess of ochre, autumn, and gold, the stray strands barely fluttering at her collarbone with each breath. Every so often, the gentle movement of her quiet breaths stirred those strands, and just so, they would ensnare the firelight; and then tawny scarlet would blaze, gleaming for a heartbeat, and then that would be lost to the darkness too.

Intently, his eyes traveled over the bare expanse of pale skin, pausing at the slope of her shoulder, the curve of her calf, his hand skating across the rough paper, charcoal smudging his fingers. Slender and light, his fingertips gently pulled shadow across her shoulder, down over the smooth swell of her breasts, caressed her face, sketched life into her eyes, though he never took his gaze off her, and his hands never lifted from the parchment. And as she sat, she let her own glance drift, watching the shadows dance and flicker across the rough cobblestone floor.

Hazel eyes flashed with the fire as she glanced from the hearth then back to the quietly working artist, dropping her eyes to his hands, watching their graceful glide over her black and white twin, and as she watched the charcoal draw out her bare stomach, she blushed; the colour washing over her cheeks, bringing kindling to the fire.

He brought his eyes to meet hers, dark brown to light brown, gaze questioning, the other both embarrassed and amused.

She shook her head, a very slight, almost imperceptible movement as she was careful not to shift her pose. He offered her a faint, if distracted smile in return and resumed his work, and she to watching.

Slender fingers wove with the fur of the rug she sat on, brushed through the soft darkness. She closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in thought for a fleeting moment, brows knitting with a pang of sadness as she thought back. It really wasn’t fair at all.

His hand stilled when she closed her eyes, about to tell her that he needed them open, that he needed to capture her expression; but that was just it – her expression had changed too. He glanced down to his half-finished work, her lips parted just so, her chin dipping ever so slightly, her eyes only outlines. But as he looked back to her, that expression of faint surprise had vanished, had been replaced with a wistful ache, and he couldn’t draw that. It wasn’t right.

She knew she was being watched. She opened her eyes and glanced to him, and immediately, he flushed, dropped his gaze, paused, and then drew again.

Without thinking, though she probably knew in her mind that it wouldn’t help at all artistically, she unfolded, stood, walked unashamedly bare of clothing towards him and knelt before him. He looked back up with wide eyes, startled at her sudden proximity; she raised a hand, let her fingertips graze his cheek, her thumb sweep over the blushing skin.

Slowly, she leant closer and brushed a chaste kiss over his lips, tender but sad. He let a soft breath escape at the gentle caress of her hand, eyes slipping shut at the soft brush of her lips over his. And just as soon as it began, it was over. She pulled away, resumed her position by the fire, on the rug, her hair as it once was; just like his sketch.

He went back to work, though there was an imperceptible waver to his lines and curves, just as that forlorn expression had slipped under her carefully arranged mask.


Enough now.


Read and review, por favor, my lovlies.


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Comments {2}


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from: brevityiswise
date: Jul. 27th, 2006 03:31 pm (UTC)

well, that was Ginny? hmmm, I wasn't exactly sure about that (I forgot to read the top part, oops.)

it's pretty. nice, flowing, smooth. plotline was there. (but I couldn't get that he was painting her until halfway through it)

but, why nudity? why? why?

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from: ellimental
date: Jul. 27th, 2006 03:34 pm (UTC)

Oh, well this was simply the written version of the roleplay. The roleplay was done months and months ago, and I just put it into... erm. Actual prose, I guess.

And Ginny, in our roleplay, has actually posed for a few of Anthony's portraits before, and this one was just different is all. :)

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