A Painting is Worth a Thousand Words
She liked art, and sometimes her voice sounded like a painting.
The young woman couldn't have felt anymore comfortable if she had just crawled under the blankets of her bed as she was while she walked through the gallery of drawings and photographs that had just opened. She heard someone faintly say the name of the artist, but barely registered it as she looked at one drawing that just caught her attention more than any of them.
She squinted and moved in closer to the lit up frame. Her breath left her chest when she noticed just whom the sketch was of. It couldn't be…how did the artist know her.
She ran her fingertips over the jaw structure of the woman in the sketch and then her own. She didn't notice the tall, young black man that walked up behind her until she felt his breath against her ear, "You were my muse in school." He said softly and goose bumps appeared down her arms and he smiled softly. She turned and her eyes widened.
"Dean…wow…" she whispered. He handed her a glass of red wine and she accepted it with a smile. When she regained composure, she sighed, "So…this is your gallery?" she asked.
"Well, half mine…and half Adrian Pucey's. He's the owner of the photographs." He said, nodding to a tall, dark haired man on the other side of the room who winked at Hermione.
"Ahh…" she said, blushing at the man's heated gaze. "Well, your drawings are exquisite I have to say." She looked down at her wine before taking another sip.
"So, I here you work at the Ministry?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, I did. But…after my divorce from Ron, I quit and I applied for a job at a bookstore not far from my flat." She said and bit her lip to keep tears from flooding her eyes.
"I'm sorry." He said, looking away sheepishly. He turned back in time to see her shrug while she wiped tears from her cheeks. "Hey, don't cry." He said softly and set his glass down on a random table near him before taking hers and doing the same and sitting them down in one of the many black leather couches around the gallery near the infamous drawing of her.
"He told me he couldn't take me always…I don't know, being so knowledgeable…he thought that I should be like his Mother and stay home to be a house-wife." She sobbed quietly.
He ran a hand down his face before sighing, "Listen, you're Hermione Granger…you aren't made to stay home and be a house-wife, and you need someone who embraces your knowledge." He said and she smiled tearfully at him.
"Yes, well, steer me towards said person and I'll be happier than anything to meet him." She replied, wiping her tears away from her eyes.
They sat there for a moment and looked around the busy gallery, "You're looking at him." He said softly and her head jerked towards him.
"Dean…" she said, tilting her head.
"No, listen…" he said, turning towards her fully. "I meant it when I said you were my muse in school, every time I saw you, I just got this burst of creativity and had to draw something…I thought you were especially beautiful anytime you became angry. Your cheeks got red with blush and your eyes brightened up." He said and she blushed then, but not out of embarrassment. "When you studied, you just look so determined, and I loved that about you. But, when I finally got the courage to talk to you, Ron swept you off of your feet after the war ended."
The gallery started emptying out and Adrian walked over, "Well, Thomas… it was a fabulous turn out. I'll call you in the morning, alright?" he said. "And it was nice seeing you again, Kitten." He said, his green eyes sparkling mischievously.
Hermione glared at him, and Dean's jaw clenched before Adrian smirked knowingly and took his leave with a busty blonde on his arm. They stood there in silence before Hermione cleared her throat. "I should probably go, it was really nice talking to you again." She whispered and before Dean could say otherwise, she was gone.