AN: Hi there! This story, Picture Perfect, is a challenge set by Omnicat; a story about the Fat Lady and Sir Cadogan. I leave you with your imaginations to figure out how the story will progress! And so, as you know, I own no characters or anything except perhaps the plot, as everything belongs to J. K. Rowling. So you know the drill, on we go!
Knightmares
The Fat Lady paced restlessly around in her portrait. It was evening; her friend Violet was sleeping and the Fat Lady knew from experience that Violet should never be awakened—the monks were off busy with a congregation of some sort, and the wolves? Let's not even get started.
The only other painting she really knew would be awake at this time was Sir Cadogan.
Thinking about the portly knight brought a smile, unbidden, to her pastel medium face. But as quickly as it came, it left. She remembered, all those years ago, that when Sirius Black had slashed her painting (he had apologized recently), he, Sir Cadogan had filled in her place. Sweet as that was, he had given her special little Gryffindors grief. Why, he had changed passwords so often in an hour, hardly anybody had gotten in.
Also, during the few times she had visited him in the evenings, he had displayed such rude behavior, claiming that it was 'his knightly duty'. She had responded rudely by saying something along the lines of, 'bring your knightly duties elsewhere', and he had answered by saying that it was his portrait anyway, and to leave bringing her overly large derriere out of his abode and back into her Obesity House. She had left in a huff, whirling her ruffles around, taking care to hit him and his fat pony squarely on the face with her drawers.
"It looks like you're not asleep, are you, Fat Lady?" asked a kind voice.
The Fat Lady turned around and stared out of her portrait. "Oh! It's you, Professor Dumbledore, sir. I was just—thinking."
Albus Dumbledore himself stepped out of the shadows, revealing his long sleeping gown decked with a purple flower border. In his hand, he carried a candle lamp, the wax slowly dripping down the candle's stick. "It is odd, how most think better at night than they do in the morning." He chuckled. "Our students are a living example of that."
The Fat Lady nodded, about to offer him some tea, but remembering that she was a portrait and could not do such thing for him. To cover up the awkward silence, she looked down at the Headmaster's feet. "Professor, aren't your feet cold?" For indeed, his feet were bare.
"They could be, and they couldn't be," said he airily, wiggling his toes as an afterthought. "And one… can never have too many socks."
The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow, but hastily put it down. "That's true, sir."
Professor Dumbledore surveyed the Fat Lady with his piercing stare, and waited a while before responding, "You are troubled."
The Fat Lady tried to laugh, and promptly gave up after producing a half-hearted bray. "I'm not troubled, sir. Is this why you came here?"
Dumbledore shook his head serenely, allowing himself a smile. "Oh, not at all. I came up here to find out where Mrs. Norris went. Mr. Filch happened to be sick today; I believe he is in the Hospital Wing catching up with Madame Pomfrey."
The Fat Lady chuckled. "So," she heard Dumbledore say, "What were you thinking about? Enlighten me as I search for that mangy cat."
"Oh, I was just—" The Fat Lady paused, wondering whether or not she should tell Dumbledore the truth. "I was, er, just thinking about the, er, night."
"Night," said Dumbledore, and he poked his crooked nose around the nooks and crannies of the corridor.
"That's right," said the Fat Lady, tinges of pink appearing in her cheeks and double chin. "The, er, kni—night."
Dumbledore pulled back from the corner he was so thoroughly searching, bringing with him Mrs. Norris, who squirmed and clawed in his arms, unknowing who her captor was. Upon seeing that she was with Dumbledore, however, her yowls turned into mews, and Dumbledore nodded at the Fat Lady once. "Yes, I see what you mean. I'll be seeing you, Fat Lady."
"What? Wait! What do you—"
Dumbledore turned around, a twinkle in his eyes. "Yes, what do I mean?" The Fat Lady simply gaped at him as he turned around, his gown bedecked with flowers floating round his bare ankles. "Good night," he called over his shoulder.
--
"Enchantsmentus Spectacularis." The Fat Lady stirred, her eyes fluttering, but still keeping resolutely closed. "Enchantsmentus Spectacularis!" The Fat Lady groaned and turned around. "ENCHANTSMENTUS SPECTACULARIS!" The Fat Lady would have kept sleeping right through the password, if not for a swift kick in her chubby shins.
"Oi, fat maiden! Wake up, ye have a student in distress!" Then, she was rewarded with another sharp kick in the ankles.
The Fat Lady groaned and sat up. "Password?" she asked to a disgruntled Ron and Hermione, who were looking mightily impatient at her undignified statement.
"We told you already," snapped Ron, "Enchantsmentus Spectacularis."
"Yes, yes, you don't have to be so rude about it," yawned the Fat Lady, allowing the two students entrance into the Common Room. "Oh, and—" she added, "Young Weasley? You have to stop taking Ms. Granger out for late night strolls—it's a good thing for you Filch was sick!"
Ron yelled something back at her, and she chuckled, swinging her portrait closed.
Her merriment was short lived as she noticed who was standing beside her. "Cadogan," she muttered, scrutinizing the rather short knight, who was attempting to tug his overly large sword out of the charcoal-oil medium rug he had embedded it into.
Upon hearing her voice, Sir Cadogan snapped his head up. "Sir Cadogan to ye, my fat maiden in distress," he said testily.
"What are you doing here, Cadogan?" the Fat Lady snapped. "You're invading my abode."
"Well, since ye wouldn't get thy fat arse up and let thy—how did ye phrase it?—special little Gryffindors in, I decided to drop by and wake ye up."
"Thanks and no thanks for the help," the Fat Lady replied, annoyed, yet amused at the same time.
"Oh, I know ye are thankful," said Sir Cadogan, managing to pull his sword out of the rug, yet promptly falling down on the Fat Lady's lap.
There was an awkward silence, which was soon broken by Sir Cadogan's stutters and attempts to get off of the Fat Lady.
After a minute of this, the Fat Lady rolled her eyes and simply pushed him off, right into the next paintings. "You were right, Cadogan!" she yelled after him, watching him tumble right into a painting of a herd of cankerous old goats. "I was thankful that my artist gave me such strong arms!"
AN: So, what did you think about the first chapter? Yay or nay? I'll be putting up an update very soon! I'll see you when I see you, da.