A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.

Art Therapy Task 1: Write an artist!au

Word Count: 974

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.

Thanks to Angela for beta'ing :)

Enjoy!

Amelia could spend her entire life trying to figure out Fabian Prewett and have no success. The man was a mystery—his charming grin and quick wit was in sharp contrast to her cooler, calmer demeanor, but he was still everywhere she looked. She couldn't escape him, no matter how hard she tried.

Edgar was to blame, she decided. It was his fault she'd met Fabian, after all. Her brother had thought it'd be funny to tell the red-headed man that she would make a challenging subject for his amateur artwork.

Fabian, it seemed, wasn't interested in dismissing such a challenge.

One Friday evening, Amelia exited the Ministry and glanced to her left, catching sight of familiar twinkling brown eyes. She stopped on the sidewalk, huffed, and waited for the man to catch up.

"This is getting old, you know," she said briskly.

Fabian laughed, a freckled hand retrieving the pencil from behind his ear. "What? You don't like it when I wait for you after work?"

"If it was just after work, it wouldn't be a problem," she mumbled.

Fabian only grinned at her and cocked his head towards a nearby bench. Amelia sighed, but sat down. The Order member put pencil to paper and continued working on his sketch.

After a few minutes of silence, Amelia cleared her throat. "Remind me again why I agreed to this?"

Fabian smiled, but didn't look up from his work. "You said that the sooner I finish, the sooner you'll be free of me."

Amelia nodded. "Ah, yes. I remember now. And how is that coming along for you?"

Fabian did glance up at her then—the look he gave her was full of mirth. "I'll be finished when I'm finished."

Amelia tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear. This entire ordeal made her uncomfortable; she had never been described as attractive. It hadn't bothered her since her teenage years, but the way Fabian would analyze her like she was something to be treasured… it stirred something deep within her. She'd seen glimpses of the unfinished portrait; there was so much careful attention to detail, it overwhelmed her.

The wind picked up suddenly, whipping her hair about her face and lifting up the page Fabian was working on. He flattened it with his hand and stubbornly kept working. Amelia's blue eyes squinted against the cool wind as she looked at the Order member.

"I think there's a storm coming," she called. "Perhaps we should end this for today—"

"I'm nearly done. I promise," Fabian said, some of his hair falling into his eyes. Amelia relented.

"Fine, but hurry—it wouldn't do us any good if that thing got wet."

Fabian nodded distractedly, but otherwise didn't respond. The sky grew darker, and after a minute or two Amelia could have sworn she felt raindrops. Finally, she decided that Edgar would kill her if she let one of his valuable Order members catch a cold and stood up.

"Fabian," she called out to him, "we need to leave. We'll be caught in the rain at any moment, and since this is Muggle London we can't Apparate."

He glanced up at her, hesitating, then reluctantly placed the paper back in his pocket. "Right, yes. Where should we go?"

Amelia bit her lip, thinking. "There's a bus stop nearby," she began slowly. "We might be able to catch one to my brother's flat before the rain hits too hard."

Fabian hurried to catch up with her as she began walking in that direction. "Edgar's?"

She shook her head. "I've more than one brother, you know. Don't worry, you'll like him—and his darling daughter, Susan."

Fabian smiled. "You're fond of your niece, then?"

"I love all of my nieces and nephews," she confirmed. She spotted the bus stop a short distance away and pointed at it with a gloved hand. "Ah, there we are. Hopefully a bus will arrive shortly."

They waited beneath the small structure as rain began trickling down. Amelia smoothed her hair back from her face, aware of Fabian watching her. "Is there something you'd like to say?"

He jumped, then laughed at himself. "No… no, sorry. But," he added almost as an afterthought, "do you… do you really hate these sessions so much?"

He almost looked scared to ask, which got Amelia's own heart pounding. This was exactly the sort of question she'd wanted to avoid.

Nevertheless, Amelia worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—she believed in upholding the truth, and not a twisted one at that. So she answered him honestly.

"I don't mind, not once we've started. It simply baffles me that you keep coming back." She turned to look at him pointedly. "I've seen the paper. I know that it's pretty much finished."

Fabian looked surprised. He opened and closed his mouth, as though struggling to find the words he wanted to say. Finally, he chuckled lowly.

"Amelia, I just can't get your eyes right."

She frowned sharply, caught off guard. "What?"

Fabian laughed again, louder this time. "Your eyes, I can't get them right. I've been struggling for a week now, but I just can't get them to convey your seriousness, devotion, loyalty—and everything else that makes you, you." His expression softened, and he held a hand out, almost as if he wanted her to take it. "I want this to do you justice."

"Do you spend so much time getting your other subjects' features just right?" Her voice was hushed. She wasn't sure how strong her feelings for this man were, but he was making her feel something.

Fabian shot her a lopsided grin. "It's only been you for a long time now."

Amelia's dark brows rose slightly as she tried to come up with a response. Eventually, she reached out and brushed her fingertips against his.

It was enough for now.