Moving Day

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

"As far as I know," Dare said. "They might take a picture and just redraw part of it, though. But yeah, it takes a couple years and a ton of people to make a movie, even the live action ones like we watched. Which aren't drawings. Those are Muggle pictures taken so fast that our eyes can't keep up. They have cameras built to do that." Dare didn't know nearly as much about movie-making as he did about watching, but he did the best he could and hoped Michael got it.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael tilted his head again and flipped the pages one more time. "It's hard to be a muggle," he said. It was, wasn't it? Having to do everything like that when there was a spell somewhere that could do the same thing in barely a fraction of the time? Michael didn't think he would have the patience to draw and redraw enough pictures to make an entire movie.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Dare's lips quirked as he looked at Michael. "It's hard to be anyone," he said, then leaned over to press a kiss to Michael's cheek. When Dare straightened, he looked down at his book, flipping over to the next page, another landscape. This one, however, was a view of the back of a house, the edge of a pool just showing at the edge of the picture. A short row of lemon trees stretched against one wall, and bougainvillea climbed up another, then trailed down over a small picnic area. The house itself was big enough for four and an office, and had large windows facing out toward the viewer. Within, hints of furniture were just visible. "This is--was-- my house," Dare said.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

"Wow," Michael breathed, it was a beautiful house, though much much smaller than the ones he was used to seeing. He looked closely at it, taking in the details and trying to imagine Dare there in it. "Do you miss it much?" he asked, though his eyes stayed on the page as his mind ran wild with possibilities and ideas. How could he not imagine Dare there at the edge of the pool, or coming out of the door with a sketchbook in his hand?

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

"Well, yeah," Dare said, looking down at the picture. "I mean, not all the time, I'm at school, and I was always away at school except holidays, but when I think about it I do." Dare sighed down at the picture. "I don't think it'd matter at all if I knew I was going back, but there's no reason to, you know? Even if Dad hadn't sold it, it wouldn't be the same." It had been almost a relief leaving it. Dare turned to the next page, a self-portrait.

A slightly skinner, ganglier Dare with black shoulder-length hair sat cross-legged on the floor, the current sketchbook open on his lap, a set of pencils at his side. Behind him, his bedroom was visible, a steel-framed bed topped with black and burgundy sheets, a tall, narrow black dresser with steel drawer pulls, and director's chair, though his guitar wasn't visible, hidden away in the closet. The picture was framed by the frame of the mirror he'd done the drawing from. "Well, I don't think I need to tell you what this is," Dare observed.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael smiled softly at the picture, though part of it was, admittedly, because of the thought of Dare drawing himself drawing himself. But once he got that private laugh out of the way, he focused more on what was actually in the room, and then, finally, on Dare. "I think I like your hair better the way it is now," he said, glancing up at Dare, then back down at the drawing. Though, he was used to Dare's hair all colored up, but just the dark hair didn't seem to fit him as well.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

"So do I," Dare said, his lips curving as he glanced up at Michael. "I was still figuring out what to do with it then, but it's better than third year. I had a mass of frizz then, thought about growing it long like Silver just to weigh it down. Thank God I didn't." Dare chuckled at himself for that. "I've got a ton of self-portraits," he said. "When there's nothing to draw, I'd draw myself. Or Silver, there's a ton of Silver. He'd sit in one place so long he was just asking for it." Silver, who he hadn't talked to since before he'd told Michael he loved him.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

"Have you heard anything about him or Dru lately?" Michael asked, then his mind went back to the latest gossip column, where he faintly remembered skimming over and catching their names. "They were in the last Prophet, but I didn't read what it said." He just remembered the names. He couldn't see their relationship being rocky, though, they seemed like they would have a good relationship.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Dare looked back up at Michael, shaking his head lightly. "Neither did I," he said. The first part of the article had been more than enough for Dare. He couldn't imagine his brother having done anything worth getting in the Prophet for, so he didn't worry about it. It was probably some random b.s. about him and Dru, and if something important had happened there, he'd have told Dare himself, right? "Maybe I'll hunt him down at school tomorrow," Dare suggested. He looked back down at his drawing again. "I probably ought to explain about us, too." That they weren't like in the article, that they were staying together, and maybe, just maybe, that they loved each other.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael's arm tightened gently around Dare at the reminder, and he looked back down at the page. He hadn't even thought of what Silver would think about the article that said his brother and boyfriend were having sex all over the school. He wrinkled his nose, it probably wasn't a pleasant thought. Really, Michael didn't even like to think of Emilian having sex, so how must it be for a blood relative like that?"

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Dare turned the page to break the spell; he didn't want to think about that now. He wanted to talk with Michael. Dare sifted through the book, showing Michael this picture or that, many of himself or Silver in various places in the house, and one of the beach, though it was only partially done, half bleached by the sun and smudged with the remains of sand. It was the picture of his parents that got him, though. The drawing was outside again, somewhere on the lawn looking into the picnic area.

A tall, slender man in a button-up shirt and open waistcoat sat at the picnic table, dark hair curled gently around his face and extending a mere inch from his collar. He had the same marbled green eyes as Dare and Silver, the same straight brows and slightly prominent nose. His lips were straight, but his eyes gleamed as he looked to the side at a woman with golden waves of hair that flowed just past her shoulders. She had a somewhat crooked half smile on her perfectly bowed lips as she watered a pot of flowers, as though she knew she was being watched. She wore capris and canvas shoes, and a long shirt tied into a knot at her waist.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael took his time looking at that drawing, his eyes hovering on the image of the man that had written that horrible letter for a few long seconds. It didn't seem like he would be capable of doing it, not with the look in his eyes because of the woman. Then his eyes turned to Dare's mother, smiling when he recognized that smile he loved so much on Dare. "She's beautiful," he said softly, his eyes turning up to Dare.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Dare's lips curved into an echo of his mother's smile, and he brought his gaze back up to Michael. "Thank you," he said. What else was there to say? He missed her, and looking at that picture, he remembered his father a year and some months ago before all this had started. He looked back down at his parents. "He's changed since Mom died," Dare said. "It was just us then, all of us, but then she got...sick and he was concentrating on her. Then she died and it was like he didn't have anything." And now he was all involved in trying to get back with the Blackwoods.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael didn't know what to say, but he knew that it wasn't fair for the man to change so drastically, to turn his back on his own son. It wasn't right. But Michael knew what it was like to have someone close like that die, knew how it could bring about a change. Hadn't he changed? His eyebrows came together, he didn't like that line of thinking, didn't want to try to see things from Dare's father's perspective. "Maybe he'll get out of it, maybe it's just taking a long time," he said, trying to pull away from his troubled thoughts.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Dare shrugged. "Maybe," he said. He didn't know if he wanted his dad back the way he was, though, didn't know if he could be that way without Mom to balance him. Part of him just hoped his dad would forget him and go on. Dare turned the page again, finding a scene of the basement from the couch. You could just see Dare's feet in the picture, as well as the end of a well-worn couch. To the left was carpet in some indiscriminate earthy shade. The walls were red brick interrupted with shelves that held various books or trinkets, an open doorway that held a set of wooden stairs leading upward, and again to Dare's eyes, an empty spot on the floor where his guitar would have been. There was a smudge on the edge of the picture, but it was only visible for a moment before Dare turned the page a few times, then settled again on a scene of a smiling girl with brown-and-blonde streaked hair. "The rest of this is pretty boring," he said, and closed the book. "It's summer after 4th year, not much except more anime." And Amber. Dare nearly shuddered at the thought.