Written for Charms (Write about someone who ends up with something that is not theirs. Extra Prompt: (word) exceptional)
Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own any characters. Another 8th year fic. I really like these. One of these day's I'll write a multichapter 8th year.
-oOo-
Out of all the things for Ron to find while digging through the lost and found, this was not it. The binding was frayed, the pages dog eared and torn, the light blue cover had scraps and stains all over it. But the inside was still largely intact. He had sat there for nearly twenty minutes flipping through the pages of the sketch book.
Faces he knew stared back at him in charcoaled perfection. The first page showed a sketch of Harry, much younger than he was now, sitting on top a broom. There was Hermione with that frizzed hair which had gone insane third year. Snape, who looked only a bit younger in this sketch. The Neville on the next page was quite chunky. Ron forgot how large his friends ears and teeth used to be. Crabbe and Goyle looked the same as always. The sketch of Ginny was more recent than the others before, showing her about third year. Ron dated the sketch of himself with those ugly dress robes to fourth year. The timing matched with the sketch of Krum and Fleur that flanked his own.
The pages went on. Almost all of them were full of people who had had one part or another with this school. He flipped through briefly, noticing that progression in the pages.
They were mesmerizing. Whoever had done them had managed exceptional work in capturing their subject. Which begged the question as to who drew these. There wasn't a name on any of them. No signature or clue.
Stashing the sketch book in his bag along with the lost jacket he had come to collect, Ron nodded thanks to the lady in the office before heading back to the dorms. It was busy that afternoon. Classes were out for Saturday and students ran freely to enjoy autumn air.
It was strange, such lightheartedness so soon after the war. It hadn't even been a year but people were already starting to reconnect with life. Ron figured that was a good thing. He had had enough of war and violence for a lifetime. A calm final year of schooling was exactly what he needed after last year's run for his life.
Finding the current common room involved a lot less stairs than the Gryffindor one did. Muttering the password, he stepped through the portrait hole and was greeted to the usual sight of cream and brown. The common held a small group of people, Zabini and Nott talking to Seamus and a few Hufflepuff girls he didn't know from his year.
Heading to his dorm, he nodded at the boys on the couch before jogging up the set of stairs. His dorm was the first to come up, pushing the door open he threw his satchel onto the bed and pulled out the sketchbook.
He flipped the book open to where he had left off, admiring the next set of pages. The sketches were just as gorgeous and insightful as the previous ones. Zabini with a cup of tea. The Greengrass sisters sitting by a tree. Ginny on a broom, wind in her hair. A few people he didn't recognize. Lavender with a flirt on her lips and a twirl to her hair.
Next was another of Hermione, much older than the last, bent over a book. Following that was one of Parkinson facing a mirror. Neville in the greenhouse, the changes in him over the years clear. Professors McGonagall at the head table. Snape beside a black board. A group of young students at a table.
There was a picture of Malfoy. It only showed half his face, but there was something sad in those lightly drawn charcoal eyes. Another of Malfoy followed, this one with eyes closed.
Narcissa Malfoy stared in regal beauty from the page with a care to her eyes that he had never imagined. Following that was a sketch of a tired looking Lucius. A crazed eyed Bellatrix. The red eyes on the sketch of Voldemort was the only color used in the entire book.
Another of Malfoy, pain in his eyes. One of Myrtle in the window. This one made five of Harry. The astronomy tower was the only none portrait sketch. A Dumbledore who looked exactly as he had before his death.
A defeated looking Malfoy was the last. He looked up from the page he was on, an overwhelmed and shattered expression to his eyes. There was a phrase scribbled on the bottom corner in a language Ron couldn't read.
With a start, Ron realized who these sketches belonged to. He shouldn't have picked up this book. He should have left it at the bottom of the lost and found where it had laid. This wasn't his pain to look at.
Closing the sketchbook, he slid it under his pillow just as the door opened. Malfoy walked in, tossing his satchel onto his bed and throwing his robes to the side. He caught sight of Ron, the two looking at each other.
Ron made note of just how well Draco drew his own eyes. Looking at the pools of silver now, Ron was sure he saw something he hadn't years before. He shook it off. This was Malfoy. New start, upstanding truce and all, this was still Malfoy.
"Can you stop staring?" The Slytherin asked, undoing his tie to add to the pile on his bed. He looked Ron over, a curious and unsettled expression on his lips.
Ron looked away, putting his focus on untying his shoes. He undid the knot on one before looking back and seeing Malfoy staring.
"What?" Ron asked. "Something on my face?"
Malfoy didn't even bother responding. He crossed the room, sending that confused expression towards Ron before reaching behind him. Ron didn't realized what he was reaching for before the blond pulled the beaten sketch book from under the pillow.
Expecting a tirade his way, Ron sat waiting. Malfoy wasn't even looking at him, instead was flipping through the pages with a careful finger. The edges to his grey eyes softened for what seemed the first time in years.
"I found it," Ron said. "In the lost and found. I take it you lost it."
"Misplaced it," Malfoy answered, flipping anther page. He focused his gaze at Ron. "You looked inside."
Shrugging, Ron pushed off his other shoe and shifted on the bed so that he was fully facing the other male. "Ya. I was curious. They're nice. The drawings."
"They weren't for you to see." The growl was more like what Ron was used to hearing. "And they're not drawings."
Ron shrugged, leaning back a bit on the bed. "I didn't know. I just found it."
"Do you always go through people's things?" Malfoy snapped back. There was an anger in his eyes. As soon as that rage started, it began to seep away. Closing the book, Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. "Sorry."
"Are you apologizing? I didn't know you knew how to do that."
"Shut up. And don't touch this." Malfoy waved the sketchbook before turning and heading back to his side of the doom. He turned back, leveling Ron with a flat gaze. "Thanks. For finding this."
"No problem." He sat there, rocking a bit on the bed and watching as Malfoy slipped the sketches into his dresser. "So, do you draw a lot?"
A snicker greeted him as Malfoy smirked. "This isn't sharing hour, Weasley."
A grin touched Ron's lips at that. "Maybe not, but I didn't know you could draw. It almost makes you human."
"Almost?"
Ron only sent back a snicker, reaching into his back in search for something to snack on. "You're still Malfoy after all. Even if you can draw pretty pictures."
A pillow came from across the room, slamming into Ron's side. He sent back a glare to match the one being sent his way. Neither glare really had much power to it.