AU! Muggle.
Written for Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
House: Thunderbird
Class: Career Planning
Task: 3. Wand Maker: artist! AU
Bonus Prompt:
4. (word) paint
9. (colour) blue
Word Count: 2908/4500
The Eyes Are The Window To The Soul
"Well, hello there, beautiful!"
Hermione whirled around, her face red with exertion, and the canvas swayed at her sudden movement. She yelled out in terror as the canvas toppled towards the man and tried to steady it as best as she could.
Hermione grunted as she stumbled through the hallway. The giant canvas almost slipped out of her arms as she turned around the corner. "Oh, God, I'm going to die!" she muttered as she continued to waddle towards the lift. Her art class was on the seventh floor, and Hermione knew if she wasn't able to get the canvas into the lift, she'd have to carry it all the way up. Gulp. Sweat beaded on her brow as she panted and wheezed, her arms trembling with the effort of holding the canvas up.
"Whose brilliant idea was this, anyway?" she grumbled, almost slipping on the wet floor. "Oh, right! Ginny! I'm going to kill her, of course. So what if she likes to draw and paint and be creative? That doesn't mean I'm creative! I can't even..."
"Hey, watch out!" an old man yelled as Hermione walked past him, smacking the younger woman's shin with her cane. "Constant vigilance, young lady!"
"Sorry!" Hermione squeaked, her arms trembling even more under the weight. "I didn't see you there!"
"Kids these days," the man grumbled as he hobbled off towards the door.
Hermione rolled her eyes and continued walking. Where's the bloody lift? She wasn't one to curse regularly, but the canvas was just as annoying as her Philosophy teacher, Professor Umbridge. She grimaced at the thought of the vile old woman and tried not to ruin her mood even more.
"Well, hello there, beautiful!"
Hermione whirled around, her face red with exertion, and the canvas swayed at her sudden movement. She yelled out in terror as the canvas toppled towards the man and tried to steady it as best as she could.
The man laughed as he reached up and placed his hands on either side of the canvas. "You're going to poke someone's eye out with that thing, beautiful. Why don't you let me help?"
Hermione glared at him, aware of what he really wanted. "For the last time, Rowle, no. And I can manage this on my own. I don't need your help."
Thorfinn Rowle flashed her a wide smile over the top of the canvas, almost dazzling her, and drawled, "Come on, beautiful. It's just one date."
"No. Leave me alone," Hermione grumbled as she hugged the canvas to her chest and tried to walk towards the lift again. As the canvas was too big for the petite young woman, she didn't see a chihuahua, who was dressed in a disgusting shade of pink, running towards her.
"Babe, stop!" Thorfinn yelled as he quickly reached down and wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist.
"What —" she trailed off when the dog whizzed past her feet and almost tripped her. "Rowle, let me go!"
"I'm only trying to help," he said with an annoyed glint in his eyes. "You're a walking hazard right now."
Hermione tried to glare up at him, but the blond's height made her tilt her head all the way back, which caused her to feel incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden. "I am not! I just need to get away from you."
"I'm not an asshole, all right? I swear I'll treat you right — if you only give me a chance," Thorfinn said as he slowly unwrapped his arms from around her.
"I don't care," she grumbled, pulling away from him. She wondered how his arms had gotten so thick and corded with muscles, but she quickly pushed the thought away and continued walking towards the lift.
Unfortunately, when the doors of the lift slid open and Hermione tried to push the canvas inside, she belatedly realized the lift was too small for the canvas and her. And then, the canvas was stuck. Tears welled up in her eyes at the sight, and even though she tried to push them away, she couldn't.
"Hey, beautiful… You crying? Don't cry, baby," Thorfinn murmured, stepping beside her. He glanced at the stuck canvas and the half-shut doors. "Do you want me to help you now?"
Hermione sniffled, trying to hide how emotional she felt, and she peered up at the broad-shouldered man. "I… you…"
"Hey, don't cry, okay? I won't ask you out — I'll do that later," he said with a cheeky grin. "Step back." Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and did as he had said.
She knew why she was crying; it was because she was terrified of what awaited her upstairs. It was her first creative project ever and she wanted to make a good impression on the teacher, but she wouldn't be able to do that if she was late or if her canvas was ruined. Hermione had never been the creative type, but when her best friend had demanded she join alongside her, Hermione had been unable to refuse.
Fortunately for her, the art class was in the building opposite to hers, but unfortunately, Thorfinn Rowle, the muscled construction worker who worked right across the street, had taken a liking to her. Well, she claimed it was unfortunate, but all her friends were just waiting for her to go out with him.
She was brought out of her musings when Thorfinn pulled the canvas out of the lift and turned to her. "See? Easy peasy," he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Hermione shyly whispered, "Thank you."
Thorfinn shrugged. "No problem, babe. Always happy to help you. Now… seventh floor?"
"What?"
"You're heading to the seventh floor, right? I'll carry it for you. It's not that I don't think you can't carry it all the way up yourself — I'm sure you can — but I don't want you to hurt yourself. You're too precious to me."
Hermione's heart slightly melted at his words. He was surprisingly charming, and Hermione was terrified of letting him into her life, aware that once she did, she'd love him forever. And that was her biggest fear. Loving someone who might not be as serious with her.
"I'm still not going out with you, Rowle."
"Babe, you'll go out with me one day. I'm sure of that," he said with a shrug. "But right now, I'm only here to help. Now, come here."
"What?"
Thorfinn grinned and said, "Come here, beautiful. I don't want you to get too tired for your class. So…" He suddenly handed her the canvas and bent down to pick her up by her waist.
"Rowle! What the hell are you —"
"Shh! I won't get handsy — unless you say so explicitly," he teased, holding her against his chest. "Now, don't drop that thing, or else we'll both fall — though I've already fallen for you, beautiful."
Before Hermione could protest further, Thorfinn bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time. Hermione was amazed at how easy it was for the tall man and envied his grace. She would never have been able to do something so athletic.
"How are you able to see past this thing?" Hermione asked, bewildered.
"I'm not the one who's pint-sized, beautiful."
"Ugh, I'm not that short — you're just abnormally tall!"
"And handsome, right?"
"Hmph." Hermione thanked God that he couldn't see her face, or else he would have seen her blush. "Are we there yet? My legs are… just dangling right there."
"I've got something that's definitely not dangling," he teased, his tone lascivious, and Hermione groaned.
"I walked right into that one," she muttered, and he let out a hearty guffaw.
"You can climb onto it, actually," he said, his shoulders trembling with suppressed laughter.
"Oh, shut up!" Hermione's face was redder than a tomato, and Thorfinn could feel her embarrassment radiating off of her.
When they finally reached the seventh floor, Thorfinn gently placed her down in front of the art class, hesitant in letting her go. He wanted to hold onto her forever if she'd just let him, and he knew he could make her the happiest woman in the world. He didn't have much, but he had his heart.
"Hey, babe," he started, but Hermione interrupted him.
"Thorfinn, no. N-O, no."
"I don't understand why you're so worried about this. Just go on one date with me, and if you don't like what you see in me, then, I promise on your life — because you're that precious to me — that I won't pester you for another date," he said, his shoulders slumped. "Just… One date is all I ask."
Hermione nibbled on her lower lip for a few moments and finally, she thought, 'It's just one date.' She looked up at him and nodded. "Alright, just one date."
"Perfect. Are you free tomorrow? I've got a couple of things in mind, so I'll need your whole day."
Hermione wasn't surprised. "I'm free on Sunday."
"Sunday's perfect. May I finally have your number?" He grinned at her mischievously, and she softly chortled.
"Why don't you give me yours?" Hermione didn't want to take any chances.
"Beauty and brains? I've hit the jackpot," Thorfinn teased as he checked his pockets for a pen. He quickly scribbled his number on her arm and added a cheesy heart at the end, which made Hermione laugh. He beamed at her reaction. "Call me whenever you want, babe. I'm always free for you."
Hermione chuckled and said, "Thank you, Rowle, for helping me up here."
"Hey, no… You called me Thorfinn before!"
"Okay, Thorfinn. Thank you," she said, smiling shyly at him.
"Why does my name sound so good on your lips? You know what else would be good on your lips?" he asked her innocently, and Hermione gently kicked his leg and almost toppled over. "Okay, okay, no innuendos now. I'll see you later, beautiful."
"I just can't get your eyes right!" Hermione wailed as she threw her paintbrush onto the ground. She kicked her stool away, scowling and crossing her arms over her chest petulantly. "I'm a terrible painter!"
"No, babe, you're not," Thorfinn said with a wide smile. "You're just not motivated enough."
"What do you mean? I'm supposed to be drawing your eyes, but I just cannot get the right colour!" Hermione wailed, pacing the small room. Her clothes were stained with different colours, and her hair was pulled up in a messy bun. Thorfinn had never thought her more beautiful.
His best friend, Antonin Dolohov, had said that taking Hermione to a couple's art class on their first date might not be the best idea, but Thorfinn hadn't listened to him. He had wanted to impress her so much on their first date that when he asked her for a second, she would inevitably agree.
They had enjoyed their breakfast in the middle of the woods, where Thorfinn had fallen off the log when a squirrel had darted past his feet, which had caused Hermione to burst into peals of laughter. Then, he had taken her to a coffee shop, where the waitress had accidentally spilt hot coffee on Thorfinn's lap, but he had taken it all in stride. He had even joked that he was just so 'excited' to spend time with her, and Hermione had secretly appreciated his good humour.
After that, they had visited a local museum, and Hermione had spent the entire time chattering about the artefacts in the glass window. He had listened patiently, asking her questions, and had even impressed her with his knowledge. He didn't tell her he had stayed up all night learning the facts for her.
Then, he had brought her to the couple's art class, which he had claimed was a good idea as it had been an art class that had brought them together. Now, as Thorfinn watched her pace, he knew he needed to do something to make her feel better.
An idea popped into his head, and he shot to his feet. "Come here, beautiful," he said, startling her.
When she hesitantly stepped closer, he wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her up against him. She blushed at their proximity and was about to look away, but he cupped her chin in his large hand. "Don't look away from me," he whispered, his gaze intense. "You want me to draw the eyes?"
"How will you do that? I'm supposed to draw your eyes," she said.
"Beautiful, you've already drawn half my portrait, and it's not like we're coming back here again. It doesn't matter what kind of eyes we paint," he said, smiling at her. "Don't look away from me, okay?"
Hermione was confused, but she shyly gazed into his eyes, her heart threatening to punch its way out of her chest. "Okay."
Thorfinn picked up another paintbrush and dipped it in the brown paint. As he started to paint, he occasionally glanced at the canvas behind Hermione but mostly kept his eyes trained on hers.
"Describe my eyes, beautiful," he whispered, tightening his arm around her waist.
"Your eyes?"
"Yeah, tell me what you think of my eyes. For example, for me, your eyes are not just brown… They're the forest and autumnal leaves, the soil in summer and after the rains. They're the colour of hot chocolate on a cold, winter night that cocoons your like a blanket. Your eyes are the epitome of innocence and purity; they reflect your kindness and the strength of your spirit," Thorfinn murmured. "In fact, your eyes remind me of a poem… Want to hear it?"
"Uh… okay."
He cleared his throat and murmured, "O brown eyes, how warm you are, with look I may not meet, lest there I read too deep and too far a meaning wild and sweet. O —"
"O Brown Eyes? By Ruby Archer?" Hermione blurted out, her eyes half-lidded with amazement. "You know that poem?"
"I memorized all the brown eyes poems I could find," he admitted sheepishly.
Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she thought, 'God, he's so smooth. This is why I didn't want to go on a date with him.' She knew one date wouldn't suffice with him, but she was terrified of giving her heart to him. She was aware of how easily she could fall in love with him, and it scared her. She had once given her heart to her best friend, Ron Weasley, but he had been too careless with it. Now, as she gazed into Thorfinn Rowle's sapphire-blue eyes, she wondered if her heart could survive his imminent betrayal. She just couldn't believe he wouldn't hurt her; it was a subconscious fear that always stopped her from moving forward with a man.
"Now, it's your turn to describe my eyes," he said, breaking her out of her musings.
"Your eyes… are like the ocean," she whispered, her cheeks flushing at his intense gaze. "No, they're a fire in water. Passionate. So full of life yet so uncertain. They're the blue-grey of the stormy skies that drowns you in the rain. They're… like the stars too."
"And why's that, beautiful?" he said, his eyes glinting with delight.
"They... draw you in to explore the emotions inside," she whispered, her cheeks reddening even more at her answer.
"Do they draw you in?" Hermione swallowed but nodded. Thorfinn beamed at her acceptance and leaned forward to press his lips against her forehead. "Thank you for being honest, beautiful… And look! Ta-da!"
He gently set her down on the ground and turned her around. Hermione gasped when she saw the eyes Thorfinn had painted on the canvas. The facial structure was his, but the eyes… Those were her eyes, but they looked so underwhelmingly beautiful.
"What did you do?" she asked, in awe of his ability.
"Look carefully."
Hermione stepped towards the portrait and squinted, scrutinising it carefully. The black of the pupils was surrounded by a ring of jagged brown fire swallowed by sapphire-blue. Immediately, she realized what he had done. "Those eyes… Those are your eyes and mine!"
Thorfinn's ears tinged pink at her immediate realization and he mumbled, "Your eyes are way more gorgeous."
Her heart pounded against her ribs as she stared at their portrait. The painted eyes dominated the portrait, and a lump formed in her throat. He was serious about her. There was no way she could step away from him now that he had revealed his vulnerability.
"Do you… do you like it?" His tone was surprisingly shy, and it just cemented Hermione's decision.
"Is this what our hypothetical child might look like as a teenager?" she teased, grinning up at him, and he blushed even harder.
"I-I didn't… Oh, God…" Thorfinn trailed off when she burst into giggles.
"I love it. I truly do." She took his hand in hers and smiled up at him. "I'm going to take this painting home, by the way."
"Hey, no fair! I completed it! I should be the one to —"
"Why don't you just paint my portrait then?" Hermione tried not to blush under his stare, but she managed to get her point across.
Thorfinn smirked and said, "You know we'll have to look into each other's eyes for that… Think you can handle me?"
"I'll try," she whispered, and Thorfinn wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her closer.
"That's all I can ask of you."
Hermione didn't know what would happen in their future — she was secretly terrified of getting hurt — but she knew she could lean back and let him lead. Maybe this is the start of something beautiful.
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