Melody
i
Dorcas has always been a dreamer. She floats through Hogwarts in a tangle of tales, weaving colourful patterns into the fabric of her life and lighting in the world with her laughter. She isn't a scholar and she doesn't do well on her OWLs or her NEWTs and even though her mother rants at her for two whole hours, she doesn't consider herself a failure - she measures her success in smiles and happiness (and, yes, she is successful indeed).
After graduation, she does not apply to the Ministry for a job. Instead, she packs her trunk and marches, head high, out of Diagon Alley into the muggle world, where she puts away her wand and pulls on ratty sweatshirts and brings her dreams to life through paint.
Her work is discovered in 1977 and she is famous by 1978. Critics describe her work as 'magical' and she always smiles at the irony - if only they knew 'Night Beneath Turrets' was her depiction of Hogwarts and the unicorns and dragons in 'Chasing Fate' were real creatures. Her first collection sells for thousands but she feels creating her art is much better payment.
ii
When she first sees him at her gallery, she doesn't take much notice of him. He has a face that she vaguely recognises: fair skin, freckles and bright orange hair that reminds her of the fire that she used to sit before in the Hufflepuff common room. But she gets deja vu at the strangest of times these days and she's just learned to go with the flow.
And she flows into the river of success. The second time she sees him, her artwork is selling for hundreds of thousands of pounds a piece and she still can't believe her imagination is so popular. As she revels in her bemused awe, he approaches her and his bright blue eyes see right into her soul.
"Miss Meadowes," he says, voice deep and thrilling. "I find your artwork strangely... illuminating. Why, I could swear you castle paintings remind me strangely of a school up North but, surely, I must be imagining things. Hmm."
He knows. And she laughs at this unexpected surprise. "Oh, you're not mistaken, Mr...?"
"Prewett. Gideon Prewett."
"Well, Mr Prewett, I do find pleasure in enhancing sights and places that I've seen. The mind does come up with the most delightful sights when you nurture it, I find."
She sips from her champagne glass as muggle mill around them. Now that she pays attention, she can feel the quiet hum of power around him, marking him as different from the muggles. She cannot say as much out loud, however - too many ears, too many secrets.
"Indeed." He, too, knows not to outright say anything. "I find your take on the school most interesting. Perhaps we can discuss it over dinner?"
The reply she had on her lips dies. She licks them wet, knuckles strangely tight around the wine glass stem. There is a sudden nervous tension surrounding her and she doesn't understand why.
"Okay." she says.
iii
Gideon Prewett takes her dining and dancing in the Lake District. She falls in love under the stars and when they kiss in the moonlight, nothing has ever been more perfect.
iv
Dorcas finds her dreams infiltrated by stunning blue eyes and a certain man's smile. So she paints them. She paints her love, her awe, her ecstasy in water colour but she never sells them. They hang throughout her little cottage and Gideon is with her always.
Every time she passes a picture, she smiles.
v
This is the only time in her life that Dorcas' reality has been better than her dreams, so she embraces real life and lets her dreams fall to the wayside, for now. She puts her art on hiatus and allows herself to be in love. After all, she's only 21 and she paints because it makes her happy, not for the money.
One night in July, Gideon pops the question and it is the best day of her life, better than the wedding that her mother never showed up for, at least. She floats higher than the clouds, intoxicated with her drug of choice - Gideon.
She truly believes that this will last forever.
vi
It doesn't.
War brews in the Wizarding World and Gideon can't stand around in their little perfect world while people are dying, so he goes to fight. He joins the Order of the Phoenix with his brother, Fabian and she paints her worry (what if he doesn't come home? what if he's dead? what will I do without him?) away until he comes home and she can pretend all is well again.
Sometimes, her illusions are all she has left.
vii
One cold September night, Gideon doesn't come home.
Gideon is dead, they tell her. Gideon is gone.
(She tears down the paintings in her house because they make her cry now)
viii
Dorcas has always been a dreamer. But her dreams turned into nightmares. The world forgot about the girl with the magical paintings that inspired so many because she packed up her paints and dreams. Without Gideon, there was no colour, no life.
The song of her life fades to a broken melody and she dances, dances, on her own in a grey world until Death whisks her home. She hopes Gideon has not missed her too much.