A/N: Written for MidnightEmberMisery's Art of War competition. My rule is below, and my pairing is Gabrielle/Dennis :)

He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces.

Dennis Creevey loved his job. He was a quiet sort of person whose passions were drawing and writing, and his job at the Prophet suited him perfectly. Mostly he covered events in the Human Interest column—the annual War Memorial, important weddings and births, and so on—but sometimes he got to write about acts of altruism and the like, and he also did some illustrations throughout. He couldn't quite understand how someone could go into the Auror offices or become a writer for the Law and Justice column after all that had happened in the war.

For Dennis had, had quite enough tragedy and darkness to last him several lifetimes, though he had somehow managed to come out of it unscathed both physically and psychologically. The death of his brother had pierced him too deeply for him to be untouched emotionally, but he had healed, and he was happy with his life.

When he and Colin had been quite small they had started creating stories and newspaper articles with their limited skills in photography and composition, displaying them proudly to their parents upon completion. As they'd grown older, their skills grew, too, as did their passion for their respective arts, and they had continued to create works together. Dennis still had them all in a trunk in his parents' home and, though he didn't look at them for fear of dwelling, he did value them as a living memory of his relationship with his brother and he cherished them from a distance.

Several weeks had passed since the Third Annual War Memorial, and Dennis was on his way to his most recent assignment—the double wedding of Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione—not just as a reporter, but also as a welcomed guest. It was a beautiful summer day, perfect weather for the outdoor wedding. The sun was bright and warm, and there was a light breeze that he knew would sway both dresses and hair flawlessly for the photographs. He arrived at the Burrow early and was greeted by a bustling but hospitable Molly.

"Oh, do come in, Dennis, dear. Most of the family's rather busy, but you just go on out to the back yard and help yourself if you're hungry."

"Need any help, Molly?"

"No, no! Just go on outside and relax!"

Dennis loved the outdoors, and so he found a nicely shaded spot beneath a tree and began to draw. He was distracted sometime later by a large and rambunctious group of boys. He squinted slightly to see what they were congregating around and was amused to spot a girl with gorgeous silvery hair. She seemed torn between exasperation and an intense desire to be polite, and so he thought he might as well rescue her.

He pushed gently through the small crowd, a strange tingling sensation flowing over him. He suddenly felt a little lighter, a little more carefree. He noticed all of her features shift to another level of perfection and realised she must be Fleur's younger sister. "Gabrielle! I've been looking all over for you," he smiled apologetically at their audience. "I need your help with something, do you mind?"

She artfully masked her confusion and curiosity and shook her head, her hair flowing hypnotically around her shoulders. She opened her mouth to speak and he had to blink before he could hear her. "—really must. I'll see you all at the wedding," she was concluding with only a trace of the accent her sister possessed. The men were all nodding dazedly, despite the disappointment in their eyes, as Dennis led Gabrielle to a secluded part of the yard.

"You're nervous about something?" he asked kindly as they disappeared behind a cluster of trees.

"I—Well, yes, but… What makes you say that? And who are you anyway?"

"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly. "I'm Dennis Creevey. And your Veela-ing was what made me wonder. I mean, you didn't seem all that pleased with the attention, so I figured it was nerves or something making it harder to control." He paused, concerned for a moment that he'd made a mistake.

She flushed with embarrassment. "Yeah, I'm usually better at… Keeping it down."

"Is it difficult?"

"I'm a fairly… emotional… person," she confessed softly.

"Ah, I'm sorry it's hard for you."

She smiled and opened her mouth to thank him when a thought seemed to occur to her and she looked at him penetratingly. "Why aren't you grovelling or devising insane stories?"

He grinned good-naturedly. "Veela powers just don't really affect me as strongly as others. Hermione said something about innocence and whatnot. I didn't really understand it to be honest, but she isn't usually wrong."

She looked at him contemplatively. "What do you think of me then?"

"Which part of you? Your looks, or your personality?"

She was taken aback. "Both, I suppose." It occurred to him that she probably felt like people only liked her for her beauty, and that it must feel awful. He resolved not to screw it up.

"Well, you're very beautiful. My brother would have loved to photograph you—beneath the night sky, where you would shine in time with the stars—he always had this feel for beauty." He allowed himself a wistful smile. "Your eyes are deep and sensitive, and your smile is sweet and genuine. Your laugh is unrestrained, which implies that you're confident and truly happy. And I've seen you interact with others, and you are kind even to your less-than-welcome entourage." He paused and grinned. "Do I pass?"

Gabrielle blinked at him. "You see all that? Just from today? Have we met before?"

"I'm sure I'd remember if we had."

She seemed flustered and gestured to his drawing pad as a diversion. "What's that?" She giggled when he revealed his drawing of a garden gnome rushing dizzily back to the bushes. "It's very good."

"Thank you," he replied genuinely. "You can have it if you want." He tore it out and handed it to her.

"Oh, no, I definitely need this masterpiece signed!"

He obliged with a grin.