The Painters Legacy

The willow tree’s branches swayed gently in the breeze, casting flickering shadows over Harry and Viktor. The autumn sun hung low in the sky, its golden rays glinting off the surface of the Black Lake. Harry’s sketchbook lay open on his lap, the soft rasp of his quill filling the tranquil silence between them.

Viktor was sprawled comfortably across the grass, his head resting on Harry’s lap. His dark eyes were half-lidded, but every now and then, Harry could feel the weight of Viktor’s gaze, a quiet and steady presence that made his heart flutter in ways he didn’t entirely understand.

“You alvays draw,” Viktor murmured, his voice breaking the silence. His accent softened the words, making them sound less like an observation and more like a quiet curiosity.

Harry smiled faintly, his hand stilling for a moment as he glanced down at Viktor. “It helps me think,” he admitted, his voice soft. “Sometimes it feels like the only way I can make sense of things.”

Viktor tilted his head slightly, his dark brows furrowing. “Things like vat?”

Harry hesitated, his quill poised over the page. He wasn’t used to talking about himself like this, but Viktor had a way of asking questions that made him want to answer. “Everything,” he said finally, his voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and amusement. “Life, people, magic... myself.”

Viktor’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he let out a thoughtful hum. “You draw to understand. But I think... you also see the vorld differently.”

Harry blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You see more,” Viktor said simply, his voice low and steady. “More than most people. Maybe that is vhy you are such a good artist.”

Harry felt his cheeks flush, and he glanced away, suddenly shy under Viktor’s piercing gaze. “I don’t know about that,” he muttered, his fingers idly tracing the edge of the sketchbook.

Viktor sat up then, shifting so that he was facing Harry. The sudden movement startled him, and he looked up, meeting Viktor’s eyes. There was something searching in his expression, a quiet intensity that made Harry’s breath hitch.

“You blush,” Viktor said, a teasing lilt to his voice. He leaned closer, tilting Harry’s chin up gently with his fingers. “You do not like compliments?”

Harry’s heart raced under Viktor’s touch, and he felt the heat rise to his face again. “I’m just not used to them,” he admitted quietly.

Viktor studied him for a moment longer before his lips curved into a faint smile. “You should get used to them,” he said, his voice warm. “You deserve them.”

Harry’s gaze dropped to his lap, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the sketchbook. “It’s not just that,” he said after a pause, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s... complicated.”

Viktor tilted his head, his expression softening. “Tell me.”

Harry hesitated, his fingers gripping the edges of the sketchbook tightly. He had never told anyone about this before, not even Hermione or Ron. But something about Viktor’s presence, the quiet steadiness of him, made it feel easier to share.

“It’s who I am,” Harry said finally, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “Or... what I am.”

Viktor’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. He simply waited, his gaze unwavering.

Harry took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “You’re right,” he said, his voice steadier now. “I do see things differently. Feel things differently. It’s because I’m not... normal.” He glanced up at Viktor, his emerald eyes searching. “I’m what’s called an Aetherborn.”

Viktor frowned slightly, tilting his head. “Aetherborn?” he repeated, the unfamiliar word rolling awkwardly off his tongue.

Harry nodded, his fingers brushing against the parchment of his sketchbook. “It means my magic... it’s different. Stronger, maybe, but also more unpredictable. It connects me to things—people, emotions, even the magic around me. It’s like... I can feel everything.”

Viktor’s gaze softened, his hand still resting gently under Harry’s chin. “Is it... hard?” he asked quietly.

“Sometimes,” Harry admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s like being caught in a storm, with everything swirling around me. But other times...” He glanced down at his sketchbook, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s like seeing the world in a way no one else can. Like drawing—you don’t just see what’s there. You see what’s beneath it.”

Viktor nodded slowly, his dark eyes thoughtful. “You are different,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “But not in a bad vay.”

Harry blinked, his gaze snapping back to Viktor. “You really think that?”

“I know it,” Viktor said firmly. He smiled then, a small, crooked smile that made Harry’s heart stutter. “And I am glad you told me.”

For a moment, they simply sat there, the weight of Harry’s confession hanging in the air between them. But instead of feeling heavier, Harry felt lighter, as though a burden he hadn’t realized he was carrying had been lifted.

“You know,” Viktor said after a pause, his tone turning teasing, “if you can feel everything, you must know how much I enjoy annoying you.”

Harry laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “Oh, I know,” he said, his voice warm. “Believe me, I know.”

Viktor chuckled, leaning back slightly, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “Then I vill have to try harder, yes?”

Harry rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at his lips. “You’re impossible,” he said, shaking his head.

“Maybe,” Viktor said, his grin widening. “But you like me this vay.”

Harry didn’t re

spond, but the warmth in his chest told him that Viktor was right.

0o0o0o0o

The Durmstrang ship loomed over the lake like a phantom, its masts cutting into the darkening sky. Lanterns hanging from the deck swayed with the gentle rocking of the ship, casting a golden glow that danced on the surface of the water. Harry followed Viktor up the creaking gangplank, his steps hesitant but steady, the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the hull echoing in his ears.

“Are you sure about this?” Harry asked, glancing nervously back at the shore.

Viktor smirked over his shoulder, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “Afraid, Harry?” he teased, his voice low and warm.

Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No. Just... curious.”

“Good,” Viktor said, his smirk softening into a smile. “Then you vill like it.”

As they stepped onto the deck, Harry took a moment to look around. The ship was even more imposing up close, its dark wood polished to a near-mirror shine. Ropes coiled neatly at the base of the masts, and the faint smell of salt and aged wood filled the air. The sound of voices drifted up from below deck—laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses creating a symphony of camaraderie.

“Come,” Viktor said, gesturing for Harry to follow him.

They descended a narrow staircase, the air growing warmer and heavier as they went deeper into the ship. The faint hum of magic buzzed in the back of Harry’s mind, a subtle reminder of the enchantments keeping the vessel afloat.

The dining hall was nothing like Harry had expected. Instead of the austere, militaristic setting he had imagined, it was cozy and alive with warmth. A long wooden table dominated the room, laden with plates of steaming food—roasted meats, fresh bread, and an array of dishes that Harry couldn’t even begin to name. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a golden light that made the polished wood of the walls glow. The air was filled with the rich aroma of spiced wine and hearty stews.

“Viktor!” a voice called from the far end of the table. A tall boy with sharp cheekbones and an easy grin stood, raising a tankard in greeting. “You finally decided to join us!”

Viktor chuckled, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder as he guided him into the room. “I brought a guest,” he said, his tone light but carrying a note of pride.

All eyes turned to Harry, and for a moment, he felt a flicker of anxiety. But then the tall boy broke into a grin, waving them over. “Ah, so this is the famous Harry Potter,” he said, his accent thick but his tone warm. “Viktor has told us much about you.”

Harry glanced at Viktor, raising an eyebrow. “You have?”

Viktor shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, guiding Harry to an empty seat beside him.

“Only a little?” another voice chimed in, this one belonging to a girl with bright green eyes and a cascade of dark curls. She smirked, leaning forward on her elbows. “He talks about you constantly.”

“Maria,” Viktor warned, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.

Maria ignored him, turning her attention to Harry. “You must be special if Viktor brings you here. He never brings anyone.”

“Enough,” Viktor said, his tone firm but still laced with humor. “Let him eat before you scare him avay.”

Harry chuckled, relaxing slightly as he reached for a piece of bread. The chatter around the table resumed, and he found himself drawn into the lively atmosphere.

The conversation flowed easily, ranging from the day’s training sessions to lighthearted teasing about Viktor’s flying technique. Harry listened more than he spoke, but the Durmstrang students’ warmth and humor quickly put him at ease.

At one point, the tall boy—who introduced himself as Alexei—turned to Harry, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, Harry,” he began, leaning back in his chair. “What’s it like being the Boy Who Lived?”

Harry groaned, his head falling into his hands. “Is that what Viktor’s been telling you?” he muttered, shooting Viktor a playful glare.

Viktor raised his hands in mock innocence. “I only told them the truth,” he said, smirking.

“The truth?” Harry repeated, his tone incredulous. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of legend.”

“Well, are you not?” Maria teased, raising an eyebrow.

Harry rolled his eyes, but there was no malice in his expression. “If by legend you mean constantly getting into trouble, then sure,” he said dryly, earning a round of laughter from the table.

As the evening wore on, Harry found himself enjoying the easy camaraderie of Viktor’s friends. They teased each other mercilessly, but there was an underlying warmth and respect that reminded him of his own friends back at Hogwarts—when things had been simpler.

At one point, Maria leaned over, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, Harry,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What’s it like having Viktor as a friend? Is he as brooding and serious as he pretends to be?”

Harry glanced at Viktor, who was currently engaged in a lively debate with Alexei about the merits of broomstick brands. A slow smile spread across his face. “Not always,” he said, his voice warm. “He has his moments.”

“Moments?” Maria repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Harry nodded, his gaze softening as he watched Viktor. “Like when he insists on making sure I’m okay, even when I don’t need him to,” he said quietly. “Or when he goes out of his way to make me laugh. He’s... a lot kinder than people realize.”

Maria smiled, her expression turning thoughtful. “You care about him,” she said simply, her tone free of judgment.

Harry glanced at her, startled, but before he could respond, Viktor turned back to them, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. “Vat are you two talking about?” he asked, his tone suspicious.

“Nothing,” Maria said innocently, though the smirk tugging at her lips suggested otherwise.

Viktor’s gaze shifted to Harry, who quickly busied himself with his plate. “Nothing,” he echoed, his voice a little too casual.

Viktor didn’t look convinced, but he let it drop, turning his attention back to Alexei.

By the time dinner ended, Harry felt like he had known Viktor’s friends for years. They walked him and Viktor to the deck, teasing them mercilessly the entire way.

“You should come back,” Maria said as they reached the gangplank. “You’re much more fun than Viktor.”

Harry laughed, glancing at Viktor. “I’ll think about it,” he said, his tone teasing.

As they stepped off the ship and back onto the shore, Viktor sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They are... exhausting,” he muttered, though there was no real annoyance in his tone.

Harry grinned, nudging him lightly. “You love it,” he said.

Viktor glanced at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe,” he admitted.

They walked back to the castle in comfortable silence, the cool night air wrapping around them like a cloak. For the first time in a long time, Harry felt at peace.

0o0o0o0o

The hallways of Hogwarts were quieter now, the echoes of footsteps bouncing off the stone walls. Viktor walked beside Harry, their arms occasionally brushing as they made their way through the dimly lit corridors. The evening had been more enjoyable than he had expected, watching Harry laugh and relax among his friends on the ship.

Harry clutched his sketchbook close to his chest, his gaze shifting between the ground and Viktor. There was a soft blush dusting his cheeks, one that Viktor found himself staring at more often than he cared to admit.

When they finally stopped just outside a large tapestry that hid the entrance to the Room of Hidden Things, Viktor reached out to gently grasp Harry’s wrist. The younger boy looked up at him, his green eyes wide and questioning.

“You had fun tonight?” Viktor asked, his voice low and warm.

Harry smiled, the corners of his lips tugging up shyly. “I did,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Your friends were... amazing. I didn’t expect to feel so welcomed.”

Viktor chuckled softly. “They liked you,” he said, his hand still lingering on Harry’s wrist. “How could they not? You have this... way of surprising people, Harry.”

Harry’s blush deepened, and he averted his gaze. “I don’t know about that,” he muttered, fidgeting with the edges of his sketchbook. “But... thank you. For bringing me tonight. It meant a lot.”

Viktor hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, his thumb brushing over the back of Harry’s hand. “You mean a lot,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

Harry looked up at him again, his green eyes shining with something Viktor couldn’t quite place. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them like a taut string. Then, before he could overthink it, Viktor leaned down, his free hand coming up to cup Harry’s cheek.

Harry didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his lips parting in surprise as Viktor pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to his mouth. The world seemed to fall away in that moment—the cold stone walls, the flickering torchlight, even the soft hum of magic that filled the air.

When Viktor pulled back, he was met with Harry’s wide, astonished eyes. The younger boy blinked up at him, his lips still slightly parted, and for a moment, Viktor worried he had overstepped.

“I—” Harry began, but his voice faltered. He cleared his throat, his cheeks now a deep shade of red. “I should probably go.”

Viktor frowned slightly, his hand still lingering on Harry’s cheek. “You don’t have to,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harry smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I want to stay,” he admitted, his voice quiet and a little shaky. “But I’d feel... selfish.”

Viktor didn’t understand—how could Harry, who gave so much of himself to everyone around him, ever feel selfish? But he didn’t press. Instead, he nodded, letting his hand drop back to his side.

“Goodnight, Viktor,” Harry said softly, stepping back.

Viktor watched as Harry turned and walked toward the tapestry, his figure growing smaller with each step. He wanted to call out, to tell Harry to stay, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he stood there, rooted to the spot, as Harry disappeared into the Room of Hidden Things.

For a moment, Viktor simply stared at the spot where Harry had been, his chest tightening with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. Then, slowly, a small, goofy smile spread across his face. He reached up to run a hand through his hair, letting out a soft laugh.

“Merlin help me,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

With one last glance at the tapestry, Viktor turned and began making his way back to the Durmstrang ship. The night air was cool against his skin as he stepped outside, the sound of the lake lapping gently against the shore filling the silence.

As he walked up the gangplank and onto the deck, Viktor’s mind was still on Harry—his soft smile, his blush, the way his green eyes seemed to see right through him.

Viktor leaned against the railing, staring out at the moonlit water. He didn’t know what the future held, but one thing was certain: Harry Potter was unlike anyone he had ever met, and Viktor knew he was already in too deep.

0o0o0o0o

The door to the Room of Hidden Things shut with a soft click behind Harry, and he pressed his back against it, letting out a shaky breath. His legs gave out beneath him, and he slid down onto the cold stone floor, clutching his sketchbook tightly to his chest.

A wide, goofy smile spread across his face as he leaned his head back against the door, staring up at the enchanted ceiling. His cheeks burned like fire, and he felt certain that he resembled a tomato.

He lifted a hand to touch his lips, his mind replaying the kiss again and again. Viktor’s soft yet firm touch, the warmth of his hand on Harry’s cheek, the way the world seemed to stop in that moment—it all felt like something out of a dream.

A giddy laugh bubbled up from his chest, and he buried his face in his knees to muffle it.

“Enjoying yourself, are we?”

Harry yelped, nearly leaping out of his skin as the familiar voice rang out from the shadows of the room. His head snapped up to see none other than his father, James Potter, leaning casually against a nearby shelf with a wide grin plastered across his face.

Behind him, Severus Snape emerged, his arms crossed and his expression as stern as ever. “For Merlin’s sake, James, don’t startle the boy,” he scolded, though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Scared him? He looks like he’s been caught sneaking biscuits from the kitchen!” James teased, his hazel eyes twinkling mischievously.

Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands. “What are you two doing here?” he mumbled, his voice muffled.

“Checking up on you, obviously,” James said, pushing off the shelf and striding over to Harry. He crouched down in front of him, grinning like a cat who’d caught the canary. “So, care to tell us why you look like you’ve just been kissed by the love of your life?”

“James,” Severus warned, though he made no move to stop his husband from interrogating their son.

Harry’s blush deepened, and he shot his father a halfhearted glare. “None of your business,” he muttered, hugging his sketchbook closer to his chest.

“Oh, it’s very much my business,” James said, wagging a finger at him. “Come on, spill! Who’s the lucky person? Or should I say, the very lucky person?”

Harry groaned again, but a small, embarrassed smile tugged at his lips. Before he could answer, Severus smacked James on the back of the head.

“Leave him alone, you insufferable man,” Severus said dryly, though there was an undeniable fondness in his tone.

“Oi! That hurt!” James complained, rubbing the back of his head.

Harry couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing, his earlier embarrassment momentarily forgotten. His parents’ antics were always a source of comfort, and in this moment, he felt nothing but pure joy.

Severus arched an eyebrow at Harry, his dark eyes softening. “Well, are you going to tell us about your day, or do we have to continue enduring James’s foolishness?”

Harry took a deep breath, his smile still lingering as he looked between his fathers. “Alright, fine,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “I’ll tell you.”

He began recounting the events of the day, from sketching by the lake to dinner on the Durmstrang ship, carefully leaving out certain... intimate details. James listened with rapt attention, interrupting occasionally with dramatic exclamations, while Severus remained quiet but attentive, his lips twitching in amusement every now and then.

When Harry finished, James let out a low whistle. “Sounds like quite the day, kiddo,” he said, ruffling Harry’s hair. “And I have to say, I like this Viktor fellow. Anyone who can make you smile like that gets my approval.”

Severus rolled his eyes but didn’t disagree. “Just remember to be careful,” he said, his tone more serious. “And if you need anything, you know where to find us.”

Harry nodded, his smile widening. “Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Papa.”

James grinned, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Anytime, kid. Now, how about we go raid the kitchens? I’m starving.”

“James, it’s past curfew,” Severus said, though he didn’t sound particularly opposed to the idea.

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “You two are impossible.”

But as he got to his feet and followed his parents out of the room, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky to have them by his side. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew he wouldn’t face them alone.

NOTES:

HI! Happy New year guyssss!!! Huhu I saw this comment on not to forget this fic, Hahaha sorryyyy! So heres my reasoning:

On January, today, we have two exams, mid term and quarterly (3rd quarterly and 3rd mid quarterly exams) it's supposed to be January 3rd mid exam and march 3rd quarterly, 3rd quarter is the longest month of the quarter for our schooling but they speeded it up, so next week we have exams for THE WHOLE WEEK, + reporting on history. Then the end of January we have projects, and on February we have another project to pass. The first week of February specifically. And we have this event on Jan 13-16th I think, it's for all schools coming and idk what were supposed to do there but yeah. Our 3rd quarter exam is the end of the month AND aside from history reporting we also have English reporting for THIS week. 

I took a day off of school today bc I was sick and my body felt sore and numb. 

I feel like my skin is bouta fall off lmao, anyway.

I hope you like this chapter, if you want the next then PLEASE, comment bc I will forget. My brain is boutta explode ngl. But yeah, happy new year! Mwah!