The Sketch Book

The sketch book was closed, lying on the black walnut endtable, its dark blue cover unadorned. On any other day, at any other time, Pansy Parkinson might have ignored it.

But Pansy had had a bad day. She needed a distraction.

She flipped the book open, marginally intent on locating a name. The nobel thing would have been to return it, but Pansy wasn't feeling too nobel right now, so she might forget nobility and use this to turn a profit. Especially if it was some pervert who was drawing fantasy pictures of his professors naked.

Then again, maybe not, she thought as a censored version of Professor Snape entered her mind. She shuddered.

But even so, curiousity was stronger than preservation of mental sanity.

She flipped past the blank information sheet that most books like this had. Then she froze. The first page was filled with sketches...

Of her.

She slammed the book shut and looked around the common room. This had to be a joke, pull one on Pansy day or something.

But the common room was empty.

She hestitated a moment more then her cat was killed and she opened to where she was. It was her. The pictures were random, the kind of thing she did at least five times a day. Biting her nails, tugging at her lower lip the way she did when she was concentrating. Tucking her hair behind her ear.

There were three pages of the sketches. Some were just her eyes or her lips while others were almost complete works of art. Her sitting on a stool at the Three broomsticks. Her on the floor reaching for a fallen quill.

But the one that really sent shivers down her spine was the one of her in the act of reaching under her collar to tug at the celtic cross her mother had given her years ago.

She closed the book and looked into space for a few moments. Who could have done this? Draco? No. The boy was gorgeous as sin, but he lacked the artistic talent of a three year old. Ok, maybe it wasn't that bad, but he was no where near this unknown artist's calibre.

Blaise? Again, no. Blaise was a decent artist but he had a specific style and Pansy could recognize it.

She opened the book again and found the next page. It was her again, but this time she was dressed as she had been for Yule ball. But there were subtle differences. Her hair wasn't in the style that Leanne Eldest had sworn was the latest fad, but rather falling from a half pony tail that accentuated her face rather than hid it. She was wearing the off the shoulder elegant dress that her mother had gotten from Italy, but the gaudy diamond necklace Draco had given her to wear with it was gone, replaced by her simple cross.

Pansy smiled slightly.

The smile disappeared when she saw the next page.

It was filled with sketches. But this time they weren't of her.

They were of Ginny Weasley.

Pansy silently fumed. Ugh! How could any one even compare her to that infidel! Sure Draco not so secretly lusted after the scarlet haired girl, but there was no accounting for bad taste. (Pansy conveiently forgot she had dated him for a while.)

Pansy examined the pictures, determined to see what was so great about the Gryffindor. Once again, sketches and almost full compositions mixed together. Ginny biting her hair. Wrapping a strand around her fingers. raising an eyebrow at the viewer. Then the full scale. Ginny sitting comfortably by a wall or something. Ginny stretching and looking at the artist.

Pansy felt a surge of irrational jealousy. She didn't like to share.

She flipped the page and almost admitted defeat. There was a full page drawing of Ginny at Yule Ball. Her hair was curled elegantly and fell below her shoulders. She was wearing a floor length dress with celtic belt and deep, embroidered neckline, with no sleves.

Pansy was still staring at it when Blaise came into the common room.

"Hey! Glad you found that."

Pansy looked up, surprised. Draco followed Blaise and looked at the picture over Pansy's shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Pansy demanded. Draco flipped past the Ginny picture, revealing more sketches of Pansy and Ginny, then back to the Ginny picture.

"I found that after class today and must have left it in here. I meant to give it to Snape in detention so he could ask who's it was, but I lost it."

"That's rather embarrasing for who ever lost it don't you think?" Pansy sniped then felt her cheeks flare up.

"Maybe. Why should you care?"

Pansy skillfully evaded his eyes. "Never you mind. Just because I'm feeling altruistic, doesn't mean you should concern yourself."

Blaise shrugged and dropped it. Draco straighted and, muttering something about how it looked nothing like her, stalked off.

(A/N: dedicated to periwinkle-blue who wanted to read a Pansy Neville.