a quick doodle (david/lysander)

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It was a pretty nice day out and David was glad that he got a chance to get outside that wasn’t for Quidditch practice. That was in a couple of hours, after his last class of the day, and he decided that he would take a few to draw a bit in his sketchbook. He had slipped outside and settled himself on one of the stone benches that littered the courtyard and dropped his bag down on the grass by his feet. He bent over and unzipped it, pulling out his large sketchbook and a pencil, one that he kept strictly for his sketches and doodles.

He has been working on his most recent comic strip and he needed to get a few things finished for it. He had the whole thing planned out in his head, but he just needed to finish the last few scenes of it. He had decided to make this one about a werewolf that fell in love with a human who knows nothing about magic, werewolves or anything else. He thought it would be funny. He doesn’t usually make a series out of his comics, opting to do random ones instead. He may reuse some characters, but he tries to make up new ones.

He has been working on this current strip for a couple of days now, and he had another day or two to finish it. He liked to get at least one done a week, which he found somewhat difficult between all of his classes and then also his Quidditch responsibilities. He didn’t mind the extra work though, he loved drawing and his comic strips were one of his ways that he got out his frustrations. He had just finished one of the pictures and had only two left to go when the tip of his pencil broke. “Blast!” he said with a huff.

He went into his bag for either another pencil or a sharpener, neither of which was there. “Of course not,” he said grumpily as he sighed once more and then began to close up his book and put it back into his bag. He’d have to finish later, after class and Quidditch practice. He must have left his sharpener on his bed, which is where he was working on his sketches last, before now. As he had his head bent over his bag, he saw a shadow fall over him. Instinctively, he looked up to see who was now standing before him.

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Lysander loved to be outside in the warm air. Today, however, he had more a reason than any to be outside—or, more specifically, away from the dungeons. He had it on very good authority (his own authority, in fact) that a dungbomb had been set to go off in T-7 minutes, and he wanted to be well away from the line of fire—not to mention the line of suspicion—when it happened. Lysander figured that being outside at the time of the explosion was a near-perfect alibi. The only way it could get more perfect was if he was sure someone saw him out here during the period of time.

He scanned the courtyard looking for a familiar face, and his eyes landed on David Harley. Harley was a year-mate of Lysander's, but more than that, he was the team quidditch captain. Perfect. Lysander lifted his backpack a little higher on his shoulder and waltzed over to the boy.

He arrived near Harley just in time to hear Harley curse a pencil. Lysander shook his head. He'd never been an artist himself, but he knew how frustrating it was to have to stop in the middle of his potions notes to cut himself another quill tip. He himself had started using pencils recently for some things. The erasers were more than a little useful when he was taking notes on something particularly complicated.

"Hey," Lysander said, crouching down across from Harley. "I might have a spare, if you're interested."

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It really would figure that his pencil tip would break mid-sketch and that he didn’t have a spare or a sharpener. It was a good thing he didn’t use his pencils for class time. If anything, he’d probably get in trouble with his professors for not using a quill and ink, even though he found that using a pencil was far more beneficial for note taking in class. If there was a mistake, a quill would have to be struck out and re-written, whereas a pencil could easily just be erased and written over. It made everything more tidy and orderly, and legible too. A quill and ink bottle also generally left ink blots on the pages, which smudged and ended up getting all over his fingers, hands and arms as well. Talk about messy.

As he was bending over to put his things away, a shadow cast over him and he instinctively looked up to see who it was. He didn’t hide his smile at his roommate and teammate Lysander appeared over him. “Hey, mate,” he greeted him as he watched him crouch down beside him. He offered him a spare pencil if he wanted one and David didn’t hide his smile as it grew wider. “Really? That would be awesome,” he said as he paused from putting his book back into his bag. “I was trying to finish up this week’s comic strip,” he said, knowing that Lysander was well versed in David’s comic strip cartoons by now. They’ve only been roommates for how long now?

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wearing his uniform
so short, i'm sorry
-covers face with hands-
next one will be better[/center][/blockquote][/color][/size][/font]

Lysander nodded when David said that a pencil would be great and rummaged through his backpack for a spare. When he pulled it out, he frowned at it dubiously, wondering if the difference in tip thickness would mess up David's art.

"All I've got is mechanical. That okay?" he asked, holding the pencil out to David in offering.

Lysander grinned when David said he was finishing up the week's comic strip. Personally, Lysander loved the comics David made. He really thought they'd be a good addition to the quibbler, though he hadn't had the guts to speak up to anyone about that yet. He'd never had a super interest in the Quibbler as a kid, after all, and he didn't want anyone to think that he had a soft spot for David… Would people think that every time he mentioned a guy, once they new that he was gay?

It was reasons like that which kept Lysander's foot firmly in the closet.

"Can I see?" Lysander asked, nodding his chin at the comic. It would, of course, only help his cover if he was truly engaged in what was going on out here, but more than that, Lysander truly enjoyed David's comics. They were funny.

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David’s smile didn’t falter when Lysander told him that the only pencil he had was mechanical. David didn’t usually work with those sorts of pencils, of only because he found them to be much frailer than the wooden number two pencils he was used to. His eyes moved to the pencil that Lysander had been holding out to him and David smiled as he took the pencil from him. “Thanks mate,” he said as he withdrew his hand from Lysander's outstretched one. “It should work all right for now,” he said. It wouldn’t make too much of a difference in the pictures, thankfully. If anything, David would just do a basic sketch with the mechanical pencil and then fill the rest in when he got back to his dorm later. No big deal.

When he started talking about his comics, David couldn’t help but smile. He truly enjoyed doing his comic strips and doodling random things on paper. He didn’t hide his comics from anyone at Hogwarts, though he had when he first started attending the school. He didn’t really know anyone back then to trust them with his artwork, especially since he never really thought he was good enough. Eventually, he learned that his work was pretty good and that more people enjoyed his mini comics than he would have thought. They became a regular thing as he entered his third year and has been doing them since. Lys asked if he could see what David had so far and he smiled and nodded his head before he pulled out the notebook and flipped open the page to what he was working on.

“There’s a bit left to do still, but the basics are all there,” he said as he handed the open book to Lysander. “And I still have to finish the last two scenes of it, but I should have it done tonight, after practice,” he said. “You didn’t forget it was tonight after dinner, did you?” he asked his friend and teammate.

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Lysander nodded at David's thanks. It was no big deal to give up a pencil; they ran fairly cheap and Lysander's parents had never been the type to bemoan money spent on school materials anyway. In all honesty, Lysander wasn't entirely sure where their money came from—as far as he could tell they just tended to crawl around after invisible bugs half the time—but they must be pretty good at it, because he and his siblings had never been without life's necessities.

Lysander grinned when David showed him the comic. This week's strip was quite good—but then, Lysander hadn't expected anything less from his talented roommate. He shook his head, a smile tingeing his lips, and passed the drawings back to David.

"Brilliant, mate," he said sincerely. "Really. You could make some good money off of that stuff."

It was the closest he'd ever come to telling David to show his work to the Quibbler. Lysander frowned, realizing that his hands were a bit sweaty, and subtly wiped them on his pant legs. He wasn't sure why telling David that his work was good should make him nervous; it was nothing less than the truth.

Lysander relaxed slightly at David's questions about the quidditch practice. A mocking lilt entered Lysander's eyes, and he said, "Oh, was that tonight? Damn. I had a clown beating scheduled."

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As David watched Lysander look over his newest yet unfinished comic strip, he felt himself becoming self-conscious about it. David knew that he was pretty good with drawing and that most people, Lysander included liked his weekly comic strips, but there was always that one chance that someone didn’t like it, or that he just didn’t do a good job on it this time around. He was insecure when it came to a number things and people’s approval on those things were always something that made him anxious. As his roommate of five and a half years so far, David knew Lysander well enough to know that his friend would easily tell him if he didn’t like it and what to fix, and it was because of that that David held his breath.

He let go of the breath he didn’t even know he was holding when Lysander told him that the comic strip looked great. He then chuckled when Lysander went on to say that he could make some good money off his comics. “I don’t know about that, mate,” he said as he glanced down at the sketchpad and the drawings down upon it. “I mean, it’s fun to do and I’m not that bad, but I am more than sure there are loads better artists out there that get paid top dollar for stuff like this,” he told his friend, roommate and teammate. He appreciated the praise and welcomed it from people that weren’t his parents – they were always ready and willing to give him praise – since he was sure that their perception of his work would be less biased.

David laughed when Lysander told him that he had ‘forgotten’ about the practice and that he had a clown beating scheduled for after dinner. “Really? I’d love to see that,” he said, joining in on the joke his friend had started. “I might even have to cancel practice just for that spectacle,” he said, trying to mentally imagine a clown getting beaten by Lysander. The imagery was most amusing and David didn’t wipe off the smirk he was wearing as he continued to think about that. “we could always end practice early so you can still get that in, if you’d like,” he joked.

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Lysander shrugged when David said that other artists were probably better. Personally, he didn't agree, but he didn't feel comfortable pushing the issue more than that. Saying something like oh, you're great! Don't second-guess yourself! was just too… Obvious. He couldn't hear himself saying something like that.

Luckily the conversation soon turned to something a bit more comfortable—Lysander's joke about the clown beating. Truth be told, Lysander really didn't care much for clowns, but it wasn't like there were any around there to beat, so he was safe from actually having to go through on the bet.

"Hey," Lysander said, raising his hands in a placating manner, "If you wanna end quidditch practice early, that’s on you. Of course, it's also you we'll all blame if we're not ready for our next match—but alas, that's the price of being team captain."

He smiled, a slight blush heating the back of his neck for some reason he couldn't quite fathom. Lysander wiped his palms on his pant legs and looked back towards the school. He'd almost forgotten about the prank he'd pulled down in the dungeons. It would have gone off by now, but no one had come running out looking to find a culprit. It seemed like he'd gotten away with it.

Lysander allowed a small smile to grace his features. Perfect.

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When it came to art, David knew that he was good. He was a modest man though, and was more than sure that there were better artists out there than he. It wasn’t him fishing for compliments or him trying to down play his abilities; he felt it was the truth and that it needed to be told. He appreciated it when people told him that he was really good though. It made him feel like he had a chance to make it as an artist after school, even though he wasn’t entirely certain that that was what he wanted to do.

It was an option though, but so was playing professional Quidditch too. He’d already been approached by one of the teams in the British-Irish Quidditch league to play for them after school, but that was a year and a half away from now and even David knew that anything could happen. It would be awesome to do though, and he could do his art on the side at the same time. of course, he hadn’t told anyone about it, not even his closest friends, but that was because he didn’t want to get ahead of himself nor did he want to get a big head.

When Lysander mentioned that he had a scheduled clown beating for that evening, when they were supposed to have Quidditch practice, David laughed. He found it funny that Lysander picked a clown to make a joke out of and David decided to keep the joke going a bit. “Like I’d ever end practice early,” David said with a laugh, though he knew he’d call it early if there was a good reason to do so. Usually it took an injury of one of his players for him to call it, but even then it would depend on the seriousness of the injury.

David laughed when Lysander told him the team would blame him if they weren’t ready for their next match and that it was the price to pay for being the captain. “Don’t I know it,” he said with a knowing smirk. “And I will be scheduling a couple more practices before our next match anyway, which I will be informing the entire team of tonight, before practice ends,” he told his friend and roommate. “I just have to figure out what days would be best for us all first,” he said. There was so much more to being a captain than one thought, but David welcomed it and was honored to have the title.

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