CHAPTER FIVE: THE STUDIO

PRINCESS MYA GRANGER

CASTLE OF KING CHARLES

I woke the next morning to see sunlight streaming through my windows and Rosalie setting the day's schedule on my bedside table.

"Ugh," I groaned. "Is it morning already?"

"Yes, my lady," Rosalie answered, smiling. "And such a beautiful morning it is, my lady, that you shall not want to sleep any longer once you see the sun."

"Mmph," I mumbled.

"Come, my lady. Let me take you to the window."

Rosalie practically had to drag me from the bed to get me to stand up. She led me over to the window, where the room-darkening curtains had been tied back but the sheer white curtains remained closed. I drew them aside, blinking as the bright sun hit my eyes.

"Well," I said. "It certainly is a very nice day out. What have I got planned today, Rosalie?"

"Not very much outdoors, I'm afraid," she replied. "But you've got studio time this afternoon."

"Studio?"

"The art room, my lady? It is where you usually spend your free time."

"Oh yes, of course," I said, pretending like I remembered. I was excited, though. I'd be allowed to paint and draw just like I did in my time. No one in my time knew about my art; it would be a nice change not having to hide it.

I spent the day helping decorate the main hall and the ballroom---after all, the ball was in two days---and then going to more dress fittings. That night before dinner, I wandered around the castle until I found a room whose door had Studio carved into it. Slowly I pushed the door open.

The room was fantastic for a studio---and, I noticed, it was a near replica of the studio in Hogwarts, where I spent most of my free time(which was the main reason no one could ever find me, as everyone assumed I would be in the library.) I liked to sketch people, but often I'd sketched ghosts---which were really difficult---or, even more often, I'd sketched other people in the studio. Therefore, almost all of my art was of people standing at easels with a paintbrush in hand. I'd always wanted to do something different; maybe I could convince one of the maids or someone to pose for me.

I looked around, noicing there were paintings, sketches, and clay sculptures all over the room: on the walls; lying on tables; covering every flat surface; hanging from the ceiling; still on easels; and leaning against the legs of tables and chairs alike. I walked around, looking at all of them and noticing that they were mostly landscapes. Several were drawn through the windows of the studio; one was drawn through the ceiling. Only three were of people, and they were all of myself. Self-portraits, I noticed; they all bore my signature, a scrolling capital H with a small cursive g; the tail of the g curled around the horizontal line of the H.

I had one sketch, in my time, of Fred and George Weasley---which I'd managed to get solely because they'd both been asleep, and there had been no one else in the common room. Sketching them, I'd realized minor things about them that told them apart---a freckle here, an old scar there---and ever since, I'd been able to tell who was who. It had always frustrated them; I smiled at the memory.

I set up an easel, then started drawing---but from memory this time. I thought of Harry and Ron; of the time I'd found them in the library, sitting across from one another, using their books as pillows as they slept, Ron's red hair mingling with Harry's dark hair. As I thought of them, my hand began moving, forming two human shapes, hunched over a flat table covered in stacks of books. I left their faces blank and moved instead to the hands: Harry's were pulled in, close to his face, still holding the side of a page as though he'd been about to turn it; Ron's were sprawled across the table, one of them flopping off the end of the table in it's attempt to stretch further.

The door of the studio opened; I ignored it, working steadily. Annamaria came in quietly, and didn't say a word; she merely walked around and viewed the other art in the room. I began working on Harry and Ron's faces, closing my eyes occasionally to remember their expressions.

Annamaria came behind me, watched me draw.

"Who are they?" she said quietly.

"Harry and Ron," I said slowly, adding faint shadows beneath Harry's eyes---those ever-present shadows that made you realize that there was more to Harry than met the eye.

"Are they---real?"

I paused thoughtfully. "No," I said softly. "No, they're just a memory."

Annamaria nodded, as if that made sense, then moved a painting to sit in a nearby chair.

"We missed you at dinner," Annamaria said quietly after a long silence. "Father was wondering if you were sick; I told him I'd look for you. I thought I'd find you here."

I smiled, never taking my eyes off the drawing; I scanned it for oddities, imperfections even as I said, "I lost track of time."

"As you are so wont to do," Annamaria agreed. "Father doesn't understand your talent."

"He doesn't have to," I replied, stepping back to admire my work. "He just needs to allow it."

"So he does, Mya."

Glancing at the drawing for a final time, I placed my pencil and charcoal on the nearby table and looked at Annamaria, who was watching me.

"What?" I asked.

"I also needed to find you," she said, "Because I checked your balcony, to see if you were there, and this was on the railing." She held out a note with another white rose. I knew who it was from before I even saw the initials on the scroll.

Mya,

Did you know knights practice dueling daily? I had to duel my sword-servant (that's what he calls himself) this morning--and I was suddenly really glad I got fencing lessons when I was younger. Can you imagine the great Sir Draco, defeated by his own servant in a fake duel? I'd be a laughingstock.

See you tonight.

DM

I looked up, smiling, at Annamaria. She was looking at me, a little teasing grin on her face.

"Have you got an admirer?" she asked, grinning.

"No," I replied quickly. "He's a---friend."

"Good gracious, Mya, if you could see how red your face has turned! Redder than a cherry, you are. Who is he?" She asked eagerly, laughing slightly.

"His name is Sir Draco," I said, smiling indulgently, "And I'll not tell you more, because you'd only tease."

"Oh, come, Mya. I wouldn't tease you."

"Yes, you most certainly would. Annamaria, my dear, I love you; but I also know you well, and upon hearing that I have a---friend---you'd tease me about him. I know you would, there's no use denying such a fact."

"Is he but a friend?" Annamaria asked, her grin widening, "Or might he be a suitor, come to steal your heart away?"

"Annamaria," I said sternly, a small smile on my face. "I'll not tell you."

"All right, Mya," she replied, sighing. "As you will."

"What time is it?" I asked.

"It's---ten thirty, I believe. Why do you ask?"

"Ten thirty!" I said, surprised. I was due to meet Draco. I composed myself quickly, saying to Annamaria, "Wow. I didn't realize it was so late. I'd better get to bed---and you should, too."

"That's true," she agreed. "Well, I shall see you in the morning. We've got final dress fittings tomorrow."

I groaned.

"I know," she laughed. "Well, anyway, I wish you a good night."

"And you," I answered. "Sleep well."

The moment Annamaria left, I ran to the window, transformed, and flew out to the garden.

DRACO MALFOY

GARDEN OF KING CHARLES

That night at ten-thirty, I waited at the bench. I sat there for five minutes; I started thinking maybe I'd told Hermione the wrong time. I looked up at the sky just as she flew past overhead. She landed behind me, and I turned to watch her transform to human again: her face darkened to pale brown and her eyes returned to normal; her wings curled into her back and her claws retracted to form fingernails.

"Hi," I said blankly, watching as her fangs shrunk back into teeth.

"Hi," she said breathlessly. "Sorry I'm late."

"You're wearing a dress," I commented, grinning. "Since when do you wear dresses?"

"Since I was painting and I lost track of time. By the time I realised what time it was, I didn't have time to change. Oh, and my trousers haven't been washed yet, either," she replied, looking at her blue calico work dress in distaste.

"Cool," I replied, then offered her my arm. "Want to walk?"

"Sure," she said, taking my arm as she had last night, and we walked around the garden for awhile, going in a circle so that we ended up back where we started. After some time, she said, "Malfoy, say it."

"Say what?" I asked, bewildered.

"Voldemort," she replied, watching as I flinched. She released my arm as I stopped walking. "Why do you fear his name so?"

"Because he's the most evil creature that has ever existed," I said quietly. "Have you ever faced him, Mya?"

"Not directly," she replied gently as we sat on the nearby bench. "Harry has, of course, but every time he meets him, he tells people less and less about what happened."

"I don't blame him. The Dark Lord...he's---evil," I said with difficulty. "You've got no idea---when you're near him, you can feel the evil. It's like...you sense it. It's there inside him, and he'll never be able to get it out. It's like he's glowing---a glow all around him that you can just sense. Like an invisible light...a vibe, I suppose. You just know, no matter what form he's in, that there is not a good bone in his body. He is completely consumed by evil---he thrives on it."

I felt Hermione shudder beside me, and instinctively wrapped my arms around her, sliding my hands down her bare arms.

"Cold?" I asked.

She offered me a small, shy smile. "Not anymore," she replied.

"Good," I replied, and pulled her towards me so her back was against my chest. She turned to look at me; our faces were just inches apart. She smelled of cinnamon.

"Draco," Hermione said quietly, "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Of course," I replied, enjoying how close she was to me.

"Could I sketch you?"

I was silent for a moment, surprised. "I didn't know you drew."

"I love drawing," she answered quietly. "And painting, sculpting, and any other form of art on the planet."

"Oh," I replied, surprised. "Well, sure, I suppose. What for?"

"I don't know. Just---when you're an artist, you get this sense of people and places; and sometimes, those people or places just grab you and you suddenly feel like drawing them. It's weird, I know," she told me, "but it happens to me all the time."

I was quiet for a long time, and Hermione looked at me again, our faces close.

"A penny for your thoughts," she said.

I just sat there for a moment, looking at her and thinking how beautiful she was, then said, "I was just wondering why it feels like I just got a glimpse of your soul."

She smiled at me, a slow grin that made me want to kiss her for its charm, and said simply, "Maybe because you probably did."

"How?"

Her smile widened, and she searched my face---for what, I didn't know, but I allowed her to do it anyway because I liked it when she looked at me. "Because I told you about my art and how I sense things. I've never told anyone about that before."

"Really? No one?" I asked. "What about Ron and Harry?"

"Never," she told me, looking at the moon. "They know about my art, but only because they found me painting in the school's art studio once."

"Have you ever drawn people?"

"Only when they're asleep or from pictures," she replied. "Fred and George fell asleep in the common room once, and I painted them. And Harry and Ron fell asleep at the library. But sometimes, if I really want to paint someone, I get Colin Creevey to take pictures---no, don't laugh, he really is a fantastic photographer---and then I borrow them and paint from them."

"That's crazy," I decided, and she raised an eyebrow at the outburst.

"What is?"

"That you felt like you had to hide your art from everyone. Why'd you hide it? You love doing it; if I had to hide things I loved I'd go crazy from the injustice of it."

She smiled again. "I didn't feel like I had to," she replied, thinking. "It was more like I didn't want to see people's reactions to it. I'm one of those people who just can't stand critisism; so, by hiding my art, I felt like there was less for people to make fun of me for. I don't know," she said finally. "It doesn't make much sense, but my art is the one thing I do that's for me. My grades are for my parents; the over-achieving is for my teachers; reading so much is for strangers so they think I'm smart---"

"Which you are," I interrupted, but she ignored me.

"I don't know...everything I do is really done for someone, and one day I realized that I needed something that could be mine, something that no one else really even needed to know about. Just...an escape. My escape."

I was silent for a moment, then said simply, "Wow."

"Yeah. You know what's weird?" she asked suddenly.

"Besides everything, you mean?" I replied.

"Yeah, besides that," she answered, smiling. "What's weird is that we're actually getting along."

"That is pretty weird," I agreed.

There was a long silence, in which we both thought about our current situation. "What's going to happen when we go back to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked finally.

"I don't know," I replied honestly.

"I don't either," Hermione answered. "I mean, will we go back to hating one another? Will we be friends? It's all so strange."

"That it is," I replied. "If someone had told me two weeks ago that in a week and a half I'd be sitting on a bench in some medieval garden with my arms around Hermione Granger, I probably would have either asked them what their IQ was or punched them in the face."

"You wouldn't have punched them," Hermione decided.

"No?"

"No. You'd be cruel. Hurt them with words, taunt them in the hallways, turn Slytherin House against them, get Pansy or someone to start a rumor about them maybe. You're not the physical-fight type; and if I'd known that during first year, I never would have allowed Harry and Ron to meet you in the trophy room for your so-called duel. I know you were only trying to get them caught, but I should have realized that challenging someone like that wasn't the type of thing you'd do to get revenge."

"No, it wasn't. It was funny, though."

"It was not. Don't be a jerk; you almost got them kicked out of Hogwarts," she pointed out.

"I did not; they heard Filch before he could catch them. That's the thing with Filch; he's so confident he'll find someone that he talks to himself while he's looking."

We talked for a long time; at least two hours. I was discovering just how much I enjoyed Hermione Granger's company.

"I'd better go," Hermione said suddenly. "I've got final dress fittings early tomorrow, and the ball's the day after. By the way, have you gotten your invitation yet?"

"Just this morning," I replied. "It's odd; you'd think they'd give you more notice."

"Yeah," Hermione said. "This ball's different, thank god; we choose who we dance with, and we don't have to dance with everyone if we don't want to. All we're doing tonight is crossing more names off."

"Are you going to cross me out now that we've made a truce, Mya?" I asked.

"Do you want to be crossed off?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course not."

"Well, then it depends on whether you're nice to me," she replied, grinning. "But I really should go. Annamaria already thinks I'm dating someone, and she found one of your notes, so she assumes I'm dating you. If I wake up looking tired tomorrow, god only knows what she'll think I've been doing with you."

I grinned teasingly. "What have you been doing?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Goodnight, Draco."

"Meet me again tomorrow?"

"Ten thirty, center bench?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there," she promised. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mya," I replied as she transformed, and I watched as she flew back to the castle. She stayed in her Animagi form long enough to say, Thanks for listening. I waved, and she returned the gesture before heading inside.

A/N: I know, I know, it's terribly annoying of me to leave you with that. But I found a good stopping point, and I think at this point, adding to it would take away from the chapter. So there's a nice, boring glimpse at my thoughts, in case you care :P

I also have a few notes:

From now on, point-of-view changes will be in bold; I think the story's easier to follow that way. I will fix earlier chapters eventually, but I'm being incredibly lazy right now and really only wanted to put this chapter up.

I hate to beg for reviews, because whenever someone asks me for one it sounds like they're desperate, but please review. It's the highlight of my day, seeing new reviews---mainly because I'm grounded for the summer and I don't have any other highlights. But in all seriousness, I would rather get twenty reviews saying "this sucks" than none at all. Any feedback---
good or bad---is appreciated. Just something to keep in mind.

As I mentioned, I'm grounded for the entire summer. Technically I'm not even supposed to be on the computer, so it will be a little difficult to update. I can manage it, but if it takes longer than expected or I suddenly stop updating, it means I either can't get on or I got caught using the computer. However, I am not restricted from my laptop (which is what I write everything on) because I bought it with my own money, so if I can't update, just know that I'm still working on this fanfic. In any case, I hope you enjoy.

THIS IS IMPORTANT: I recently posted the first three chapters of another fanfic of mine. It's called "Shall We Dance?" and it's a Hermione/Sirius pairing; which sounds gross, but she went back in time (yes, I like time-travel) and they're the same age. She goes back, becomes friends with the Marauders, the whole thing. Anyway, read it and let me know what you think!

Thanks for reading, and please review!