sassy_cissa (sassy_cissa) wrote in slythindor100, @ 2007-03-17 22:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | non-challenge |
the lost portrait
Original poster: megyal
the lost portrait.
Author: megyal
harry/draco (implied), pg-13
Word Count, 863 words, non-challenge entry
[x-posted to harrydraco, slythindor100]
Inspired by a line from this wonderful fic that I'm reading right now: And Then There were Three, by swtalmnd, in particular, the third chapter:
Snape bowed his head in acknowledgement. "You are most welcome. It is unfortunate that many of those with whom you might wish to speak had no opportunity to have their portraits painted before they passed away."
ETA: This ficlet has nothing to do with that lovely chaptered fic; that line just struck me.
Draco blinked wearily at the damp stone walls of the massive storage center, here at the lowest floor of the Ministry of Magic, ruefully wiping dust from his hands onto his sensible blue robes. A Malfoy house-elf was trotting dutifully between an open door marked Malfoy: Evidence Room, levitating precious jars and other small items that the Aurors had seen fit to take while raiding the manor, decreasing their size and placing them in a heavy trunk.
Draco felt tired and miserable. He folded his arms and gazed down the dimly lit hall, listening to the the forlon trickle of water somewhere. It was damp and dark, memories forgotten and locked up in dim loneliness. Shaking himself a little, he gave a curt nod to the elf and walked slowly down the passageway.
Longbottom. Allweather. Lillefur. Evans. Draco stopped short at this last, nearly at the very end of the high stony hall, peering at the name. This wasn't a Wizarding name that he recognised, although there was something about it that jolted at his---oh.
Green eyes filled his memory, sharp and slanted and full of shy awareness. He put out a cautious hand and the rounded bronze handle turned under his curious fingers. He fished for his wand in one of his sleeves and muttered Lumos. There was a collection of charred furniture in one corner and Draco pulled his mouth into a pained line at the burned patterned on the sofa. There was a small white crib next to that, shockingly whole in comparison to the other items of furniture, cute in its tiny state even with the layer of dust settled on it.
He brushed cold fingers against the mobile hanging over the crib and it gave a sad little trill; he paused, listening carefully. He heard hushed whispers from the darkest corner and sensing no threat, he made his way over there.
The strong light from the tip of his wand washed over a large red curtain and he pulled at the cord gently, holding his breath as the curtain parted to reveal the portrait.
They were here; a lovely young woman with thick red hair and familiar eyes bouncing a plump baby in her lap as she sat in an ornate chair. A tall man stood behind her, his glasses and hair sending a rush of almost unbidden delight through Draco.
"Hello," he said softly. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Hello, young Harry."
"Hello!" Lily said genially, even as she seemed to struggle with the squirming Harry, who was dressed in a ridiculous set of tiny blue robes with a fancy white collar. He gave a little yell and tried to lunge out of her lap. "Harry, please! Keep still."
Draco hid a little grin and then noticed that James Potter was frowning at him.
"That hair...and those eyes. Are you related to Lucius Malfoy?"
"Yes." Draco kept his voice firm. "I'm his son."
There was a strained silence and Lily strove to break it with another smile; Draco could see exactly where Harry's open grin had come from.
"Yes, I remember when they put your birth in the Prophet. We have been here so long, if you're a young man now and not a baby still like Harry here?" She hugged Harry tightly and he wrinkled his tiny nose and babbled. James looked down at them protectively.
Draco said, carefully," Yes, it has been a long time...Harry is...well, Harry is Harry."
"I'm so glad," Lily said, her eyes shining in much the same way that Harry's did when he was pleased. "We were so afraid, with the threat of Voldemort...we thought--"
"He's alright. We're all alright now, more or less."
James squinted at him and then sighed as Lily shifted a leg and pressed the heel of her boot onto his foot.
"I suppose you're friends with our son then, if you're able to speak of him like that."
Draco kept his gaze on baby Harry, trying to find any sign of the fiery young man now. The baby stuck his thumb in his mouth and grinned toothlessly around it at Draco.
"Just recently, we've become very close." Draco's low voice held the hint of pleasure. "He's...we're.."
"Oh." Lily's face was tinged pink and James was looking down at his infant son with a faint expression of horror. The baby laughed and waved at Draco, little fist opening and closing. Draco raised his other hand and copied the move.
"I think he'd love to see you," Draco said, trying to imagine the look on Harry's face when he went back to his flat and saw this portrait on the wall. He could just picture the shock; Harry would probably have to sit down. "We didn't even know you existed."
"I'd love to see him, too," Lily replied, looking down at the baby's messy black hair. She tried to smooth it down with one slim hand, but it stuck up even more. She grinned ruefully as James chuckled. "Now, that's my greatest wish."
Draco smiled, reaching for the wooden frame of the portrait and ending the Sticking Charm. "I'm pretty sure that is his as well."
fin
sequel: in a boy's dream