This Is A Colorful Day (Warren)

Max looked at the sketch that he'd drawn a few days ago and then back to the canvas that he was currently working on. The sketch was merely for reference, as he was now doing the picture again in full color. He'd had this in his head since he'd had a dream the night before he'd drawn the original sketch. He'd written the colors that he'd wanted it to be in the margins, and was now trying to mix the paints he was working with to match one that he'd wanted very much.

He finally got the tint that he had seen, and took the brush that was between his teeth to start applying it to his canvas. He smiled to himself as the painting started to appear the way it had in his dream. He was going to give this to his foster mother and her fiancé. He had the feeling that they would appreciate it, even if it didn't seem to make a whole lot of sense to them. Max chuckled at that thought. He didn't think that this painting would make sense to anyone but him. Unless they thought the same way he did, that was. And he'd noticed that a few of Hogwarts students did, but none of them were in the room with him now. In fact, he was all alone at that moment. Or so he thought.

Max felt eyes on him, but pretended not to notice. He wanted to finish at least half of the painting before he went to lunch, but finally the feeling that he was being watched was getting too much for him to take, and he looked around to the person standing across the room from him.

"Well, since you are here, and you have been watching me, what do you think of it?"

Max grinned sheepishly when Warren called him a little DaVinci. He knew he didn't have that much talent, but it was nice to know that someone thought that he at least had some. He recognized the name of Warren's older brother, but had never actually met Damon. He wondered if that would was the reason that the name had been brought up. He didn't want to ask, in case he was thought of as a stupid moron or something, but made a mental note to keep the name in mind.

He turned back to his painting and started working again. He'd never actually thought of himself as having talent at all. He just did what was in his head. This was only his third attempt at painting, and he was surprised that he'd been able to get it to look ecactly the way that he'd wanted it to. He wanted to do another for his cousin, who he hadn't seen since he was about seven years old. It wasn't until Armistad had shown up at the house that Max had inherited that he learned why that had been. Armis was more like him than he'd ever realized, and he hoped that if he was to paint for him, his cousin would at least keep the painting somewhere in the house.

He turned back to Warren. "I'm Max Xandex, and I don't know about being a Da Vinci. I've never really thought about what I do with my works. I just get the picture in my head and begin to put them to paper. I've not worked with paint that much, but when I have, it's come out the way I want it to." He put the brush down and wiped the paint from his hands.

"It just seems that anything that I work with in art comes out exactly the way it looked in my head." He stepped back and looked at his painting critically.

Warren smirked noticing the sheepish smile. The boy was adorable and it was cute to see someone still be bashful of compliments. Still Warren hadn’t been lying, the painting was incredibly good and if Max continued developing this talent he would no doubt one day be referred to as a great artist. He felt more at ease though, knowing that despite this talent Max wasn’t arrogant. Damon would tell him to be more careful but Warren was tired of being careful. Tired of pretending that he wasn’t who he was.


He watched as the boy worked wondering what it was that he was painting. It looked so real and vivid almost as if it was a real place on this Earth. Warren was better at abstract, he could draw dreams and places that could never exist. It was a different talent although Warren was glad for it. Damon kept every single one of his creations and they lined the rooms of their house back home. He wondered where this particular piece was going though.


“Nice to meet you and trust me you have talent. Serious talent. It’s beautiful that you can imagine places like these,” he said softly. Most of Warren’s own work centered around those bright lights that had visited him and his brother. Damon knew it and never commented on the colors. He would just smile in that same far away gaze and hang it up. “So you thought of this?” he asked wondering if perhaps it was a true place that they could one day visit.


“Well maybe you could do a painting of me sometime. I’m not very good at self portraits. A painting for a painting?” he said playfully.

A painting for a painting? Well, Max didn't have any idea what to say to that, but without thinking, he lay down the brush he was holding and turned to a blank canvas that was standing near him, picking up a pencil and started to draw, glancing at his new subject every so often. He didn't know what had prompted him to do this, but he found that he just had to.

The pencil flew over the canvas, little scratches sounding with every stroke. His picture was starting to come together already, and it was surprising to him. Usually he had to finish one project before he could even start to think of another, but for some reason, this was different.

Max finished the sketch and began fine tuning the drawing. He began shading and blending and within another fifteen minutes, he was finished and put the pencil down, looking back and forth between the canvas and his subject. He tried to have a critical eye while he studied it, but he had never really thought of what he did as art. Maybe if he showed it to Warren. He turned the canvas toward the other boy.

"Was this what you had in mind? Granted that I'm not that talented, but I think maybe it comes close to how you look."

Max was surprised. Pleasantly suprised. He'd never had this kind of a reaction to one of his works. He'd been told that his portrait of Warren was magnificent and then had been kissed, and kissed very well. But it had been over before Max had the chance to respond. He would have been more than willing to kiss the Ravenclaw back if he'd continued.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about. I liked it. Very much." He smiled at Warren and turned back to the canvas he was holding and set it back on the easle, looking at it with a new eye now. One that belonged to someone who'd had his lips claimed by the subject of the work. Lips that were still tingling from the impact. He'd been kissed by girls, but never by another male. It had been a rather interesting experience. And also thrilling. Max's heart had started to pound a mile a minute and he had all sorts of colors and images running through his head.

He closed his eyes as they started to form a picture in his mind. It would be his third work of the day, and he usually was only able to do one or two a week. It seemed that Warren served as a muse for him. Max's hands flew over the canvas again and within no time he had finished the drawing and was starting on the colors.

The painting began to take on even more shape as he filled in the pigments where his mind was telling him they would be going. He didn't even look to see what it was that his mind was telling him to create until it was finished. Then he stepped back and his jaw dropped at what he'd made in the short span of time.

On this new canvas was himself, and he was with another person, wrapped in an embrace from behind by someone with blond hair and blue eyes. Max's brown eyes roamed across the canvas again and he was astonished at the amount of detail he'd captured. He had even put his tattoo in the painting, and he'd not even known what he was doing. But what struck him the most was the person that was holding him. It was Warren, the Ravenclaw boy that had just kissed him.

"Oh, my......." was all he was able to whisper before he turned the canvas around to show to Warren.

Whatever Max had said about liking Warren kissing him before, it was totally erased from his mind now. This kiss was better than the last and he couldn't restrain himself from bringing his hands up to the Ravenclaw's shoulders to keep him where he was. He didn't want to let go of Warren's lips, his mind even screamed at him to not let go. He wanted to hold onto the other teen until he couldn't think any longer.

Something was starting to happen to him. Something that he'd not felt very often. He'd known that he was attracted to both males and females for a year now, but it still surprised him when it happened. Max chose not to fight it, and let it flow over him in a rush. He didn't feel shame, because he knew that this was who he was. Who he'd always been, even though it had cost him his family. But then again, what kind of family had he lost? One that had mistreated him because he could use magic. He was better off without them, and more than happy to finally be himself living with the Radcliffe and Michaels families.

He finally broke the kiss, but didn't try to hide what Warren had done to him. He wasn't ashamed, but if the Ravenclaw was offended then he would apologize. Somehow, though, he didn't think that Warren would mind in the least. Because it seemed to the Gryffindor that he wouldn't be getting kissed if there were going to be any kind of problem with a physical reaction. Now the matter that he had was to try to get the same reaction from Warren as well. Before something happened to make them seperate and have to leave the room, heading back to their own dorms before they could learn if something might come of this.

"Warren," he whispered. "Where is this going? I know that I want it, but do you?"