Alone in a Quiet Spot

It was painting day, Saturday, the day most people did nothing, or did their homework they'd put off all week. So the Library was actually a rather busy place. Though busy in Library standards wasn't like anything else. There were more people than usual sure, but all of them had their noses to their books or were searching the shelves for something in particular. It was on these days that Phoenix went to a little corner that was set aside just for her... she'd met the Librarian right after he'd started working there and they'd hit it off pretty good. His daughter was a Gryffindor and she'd met her while painting once, after that the girl had apparently told her father about her, and they'd got to speaking about her paintings.

Now she came into the Library just about every Saturday (Unless she was swamped by homework), and did a little bit of painting in a little corner he'd helped her set up. She came in carting a duffle bag and a small work bag filled with her paints. Every bit of the bag, of her clothes and of everything she owned was splattered in at least some sort of paint. Either smeared on her shirt, dotted on her pants, or flecked across her shoes, it didn't matter. She was a walking paint tray.

Ignoring the glances that were so often thrown her way (possibly because she'd enchanted her hair to be bright blue this morning),  she made her way to the back corner of the Library, next to a window, that was further away from the books than other spots. That was simply a safe place since sometimes paint went further than she thought it would have. Taking a moment to get her bearings, she set her bag down on the table nearby, pulled up a chair and sat down, gathering her thoughts and preparing herself for a good long session of painting.

It took her less than a minute to do this, and she stood back up again, unzipped her bag and started to pull out her instruments of art. A small table easel, a canvas (already stretched), and her painting bag slid out of her duffel and onto the table. She took a moment to set up the table easel and set the canvas on it. She pulled out her art tray, and laid out her paints in a neat and orderly line above it. It never stayed that way for long. She dabbed a bit of paint onto the tray in the order of the rainbow, and then sat down.

Mixing time, she wasn't sure what she wanted to paint yet, but mixing the colors usually gave her an idea, so she pulled a bit of yellow out, and a bit of red, and made a rusty orange, then a bit of brown, white and black made grey, and so on. She mixed for a good few minutes, concentrating on the colors she made, before she looked at the canvas. She picked up a brush, dipped it in a color, and started to paint.

Sebastien O'Sullivan would tell you he liked his job, if asked during the week, however he wanted to quit every Saturday. Funny thing, although he often said to himself that current Saturday is his last one on this workplace, he never did anything to make it happen, like for example go to Theodore Rookwood's office and say he's quitting the job.

He was running from one part of the library to the other part for whole day, always carrying a couple of books that students needed but couldn't find them by themselves, without taking a minute off, he was exhausted till the noon, which reminded him he should agreed to go running with his brother long time ago when Christian offered it for the first time. Maybe Bastien shouldn't shake away his idea when he offered it for second time, or twenty seventh time, which was the number of his last attempt. In Sebastien's defense, he said his brother to continue to run alone (he maybe said something about Nymeria and earned a punch in the shoulder, too) when Chris asked him the last time saying that he really should start running if he doesn't want to get tons of fat because as a twenty-saven years old man, he'll soon become too old to try new things.

There wasn't a happier man than O'Sullivan when the late noon came and new students stopped arriving at the library so he could finally catch his breath. He walked through the library to see if every student had everything they needed, satisfied when no one asked him for more books.

Instead of going back to his table to pick up where he stopped with the book he was currently reading, he decided to check on Phoenix. Sebastien saw the girl entering the library earlier, but was too busy to check on her until now. He walked through the library, his fingers touching the ridges of the books as he passed his favourite shelf, knowing where would he most likely find Phoenix. Finding her equalled finding the most calm place in the whole library.

O'Sullivan leaned on nearest shelf when he finally found Phoenix busy with painting, he couldn't recall ever seeing her doing anything else than painting.

"Nice haircolour."

Sebastien walked towards her, stopping a few steps behind her and looking at canvas above her head. "I wonder how will this one look when it's done."

(Sorry cause it's wonky, it's been quite time since I wrote as Sebastien)