Rating:
PG-13
House:
Astronomy Tower
Ships:
Dean Thomas/Luna Lovegood Ginny Weasley/Harry Potter
Characters:
Dean Thomas Ginny Weasley Harry Potter Hermione Granger Luna Lovegood Ron Weasley Seamus Finnigan
Genres:
Drama Romance
Era:
The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
Spoilers:
Half-Blood Prince
Stats:
Published: 05/05/2006
Updated: 09/06/2006
Words: 30,434
Chapters: 5
Hits: 6,075

The Tell-tale Art

Heronmy_Weasley

Story Summary:
Dean loses a potentially embarassing piece of art, but in looking for it, he finds something altogether different.

Chapter 01 - Part One

Posted:
05/05/2006
Hits:
1,767
Author's Note:
Set during those few weeks of "bliss" between Ginny/Harry, but before Harry and Dumbledore go off. My attempt to give Dean a voice in the "breakup" and a little happiness, too.


I.

Dean Thomas was trying hard not to appear frantic despite the fact that he was flinging papers and clothes out of his trunk at an alarming rate. As he was getting toward the bottom of the cavernous trunk, his calm expression wavered. After the trunk, he would have no place else to look, and that would mean that he would really be in a fix.

"Eh, Dean, what the hell's with the racket?" Seamus Finnigan said irritably from the other side of the dorm room. "I'm trying to get this Arithmancy bilge sorted."

"Sorry. Looking for something." Dean seized a folded piece of paper eagerly, but his hopes were dashed when he opened it and discovered that it was just an old Potions essay. "Cor, where the hell is it?"

"What exactly are you looking for?" asked Neville Longbottom timidly, putting aside the book he was reading. "I might've seen it. Trevor got away from me last night and I had to move some things around to get at him."

"Er, it's nothing," Dean mumbled, shoving aside the last items in the chest. Nothing. "Just, uh, some work I need to turn in for my mum."

"For your mam?" Seamus's eyebrow rose. "What kind of work would you need to do for her from all the way out here?"

"Well, it's work for me, but she asked me to do it." Dean got to his feet and closed the trunk with a bang that made Seamus and Neville jump. "My mum doesn't want me hanging about the house this summer. She knows a bloke whose sister runs an art school outside London. Mum wants me to apply, but I've got to send off a few of my drawings to see if they want to take me on or not, and now I can't find one of the drawings I was going to send."

Dean was quite happy that blushes weren't that noticeable on him because his face burned hot as he spoke. It was mainly the truth. His mum did want him to hone his art skills by attending a residential summer program for young artists. He did have to send a portfolio that was representative of some of his recent work. But he had never intended to send the drawing in question. In fact, he quite wanted to burn it and scatter the ashes to the wind - provided he could find it, that was.

"Eh, rotten luck, mate," Seamus said, resting his chin on his hand. "But can't you just whip out another one and send that along? Who'll know the difference?"

"Uh ... this was one of my best pieces," said Dean, casting a long glance around the room. "I spent a lot of time on it. Almost three months."

"Three months!" Seamus raised his head. "Blimey, what the hell was it of?"

"Nobody!" Dean blurted, feeling his face flush again. "I mean - nothing -"

"Nothing?" Seamus sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. "You're in not in this much of a sweat over nothing. C'mon - maybe me an' Nev have seen it around, but we just didn't know what it was."

Trust me - you would've noticed it if you'd come across it. Dean squirmed under Seamus's curious stare, but the sound of voices on the other side of the door caught their collective attention, and a second later Ron Weasley and Harry Potter entered, speaking in low voices. They stopped short when they noticed that the room was nearly full, but no one said anything for about a second or two. Finally, Ron cleared his throat.

"Er, something wrong with the common room? It's empty down there right now."

"Well, excuse the bloody hell out of us," said Seamus in a voice approaching a growl. "Last I checked, this was our room, too, and we had as much right to be in it as anybody."

Ron went bright red. "I was only asking -"

"Parvati and some others were in the common room a bit ago," Neville said hurriedly. "Me and Seamus needed to work on our Arithmancy assignment, and Dean's looking for something."

"Not that we owe any explanation," Seamus mumbled, looking down at his book again. "It's our bloody room, too, you know ..."

Dean sighed and went to search under his bed - again. Since Ginny Weasley had started dating Harry Potter two days before, things had been quite uncomfortable in the room. Seamus was only trying to be a good friend, and Neville was trying to keep out of the middle of it all, but Dean found himself wishing that he could do a spell that would make the end of the year come sooner. It wasn't enough that Ginny had dumped him for no reason at all, but he had been bloody humiliated at the Quidditch Cup celebration with Ginny and Potter snogging for the world to see.

Dean drew his wand and cast Lumos so that he could better see under his bed. After a few minutes in which he discovered nothing but dust, he was about to give it up when Neville's voice piped up again.

"Dean's lost a drawing. Have either of you seen it around?"

His head popped up in time to see Ron and Harry look at each other and then down at him.

"A drawing?" Ron said, frowning. "I don't think so. What kind of drawing is it?"

"It's nothing," Dean said, forcing an unconcerned tone. He couldn't tell if Ron was baiting him or not, but he didn't want to take the chance that Ron knew just exactly what sort of drawing it was. Weasley was quick with a wand, so he had heard.

"I'm trying to get into a Muggle art school over summer hols, and I need to send a few drawings. It's not a big deal."

"But you worked on it for three months," said Neville, looking even sorrier than Dean felt at the moment. "When have you got to send in your things to the Muggles? Do you have time to maybe do it again?"

For the first time since he had realised that he couldn't find the picture, Dean almost felt like laughing. Almost. A glance at Potter and all the humour of Neville's statement drained away.

"Not likely, Nev," said Dean quietly. Gathering up the papers he had thrown around he grabbed his a textbook and made his escape.

~*~

Dean, bloody hell, they're not that big!

Artistic license! Besides, it's not like I've ever seen them, you know. I had to, uh, estimate.

Hmph. Is that supposed to be a hint? ... I'm teasing! It's lovely, Dean, really.

It's not done yet. I've still got the colouring to do, and I think I buggered up the socks -

The socks are perfect. Everything's perfect!

Well, you're pretty perfect. I tell you that all the time. You don't need a picture to tell you that, do you?

Hmmm ... no. But maybe you do. I suppose it's a good thing that you only need one hand to draw, isn't it?

Blimey, Ginny! -

"Blimey." Dean surfaced from his memories when he saw Ginny and Harry pass by the small footpath right by the lake. Dean was fairly sure that they weren't able to see him, since he was half-hidden by a nearby bush, but he had a perfect view of the couple no doubt looking for a quiet place to snog.

Dean forced his eyes back to his sketchpad and tried not to take too much notice of Ginny's laughter ringing in the air. Her laugh was one of the things that had attracted Dean to her the most; it was so carefree and contagious. Even when she had teased him, all she'd had to do was to laugh and Dean got swept up in the tide, unable to keep himself from laughing, too.

She hadn't laughed at the drawing, however. Though it had, in some respects, been her idea in the first place, when faced with an almost finished product, she had looked as if he'd poured the contents of Gringotts's vaults at her feet. Aside from her crack about his exaggeration on the size of her breasts, she had been awed by his work, not wanting to touch it for fear of smudging the pencil line. Dean was sure that Ginny would laugh if she knew that he had lost that drawing. She would laugh and then hex him into the next century.

After a sleepless night and his usual yawn-inducing slate of classes, Dean had decided to take stock of his predicament at his favourite spot for drawing - a little clearing by the lake. The problem was fairly obvious: He had drawn a very compromising portrait of his ex-girlfriend and now he couldn't find it. If the drawing was found and fell into the wrong hands - say the slimy hands of a Slytherin - Ginny might become a laughingstock.

And it wouldn't be fair - she had not posed for him, though she had hinted that she might have if he'd asked. She just simply suggested that he do something "daring" with his art and draw a "saucy" picture of her. Dean could tell that she hadn't really thought he would do it, but that she'd been delighted by the result. Though his hormones had been racing all over the place, Dean had taken his time with it and had taken the task seriously, starting it right after they'd come back from Christmas hols and working painstakingly at it so that he could present her with it sometime after Quidditch season.

Not for the first time, Dean cursed his perfectionist nature. Since the only clothing Ginny wore in the portrait was a pair of striped Quidditch socks, he'd decided that it would be best to colour it so as to get an even bigger effect. Ginny had pleaded with him to let her keep it as it was, but he'd talked her out of it. Then things had got pushed aside with Quidditch and school and such, and now, things had gotten pushed aside permanently.

Dean looked up sharply when a voice wafted to him from beyond a clump of hedges. His first thought was that Ginny and Potter had swung around and were now on the other side, but after a moment he was able to place the slow, measured tone of the speaker.

"Ulster takes the lead - no, Yudith is in the lead. She is passing the Quaffle to Grigory ..."

Dean bounced up into a crouch and peered through the foliage. He saw the glittering expanse of the lake, and next to it, quite close by, was a blonde girl with a wand behind her ear and a frog sitting calmly on her head. Dean watched the girl, wondering what it meant that Luna Lovegood was just as odd from behind as she was from the front.

Still, he was curious as to who she was talking to and what she was talking about. It sounded as if she was commentating on a Quidditch game. Dean looked up but didn't see hide nor hair of a broomstick. It was then that he noticed that Luna wasn't looking at the sky at all. Her focus seemed to be on the lake itself.

"Grigory has passed Mairead, but he's dropped the Quaffle in the water. It looks as if he is attempting a dangerous maneuver to go after it."

Dean could just make out a number of frogs hopping about and splashing water on the grassy part of the bank. He leaned over to get a better look, but lost his balance and fell face-first into a bush.

"Bugger!" Dean tried to get to his feet but was hindered by branches that got tangled into the cuffs of his trousers. Luna turned around and regarded him quietly as he attempted to pull himself free. The frog on her head flicked its tongue in his direction but settled down again.

"Uh, sorry about that," he muttered, free at last of the branches. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me," she said calmly. "I knew you were there. I raised my voice a little so that you could hear better."

"You did?" Dean felt self-conscious suddenly. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything. It's just that I heard voices, and I heard things about Quidditch ..."

He cleared his throat, feeling somewhat silly. He was babbling, and to Loony Lovegood of all people! There she was, talking nonsense, as usual, and with a bloody frog on her head added on to that, and he was trying to explain his presence to her?

"Well, I didn't know it was you, specifically," she said. "But I knew someone was there. Lancelot told me."

"Er, Lancelot?"

She simply pointed to the creature on her head. "He twitches a little when there's someone nearby. But sometimes he doesn't - especially after he's had a spider for lunch. Twitching isn't good for his digestion."

Dean glanced at the frog, and he took a step or two backward. "Right. Well, I'll be going now -"

"I was just practicing my commentating," Luna said, quite as if he had not spoken. "I'd like to announce another Quidditch game, but Professor McGonagall says that I need more experience. I was so awful the last time I tried it."

Dean recalled that match all too well. Most of the blokes in Gryffindor had gone about hissing Loser's Lurgy at each other and howling with laughter. He stifled a grin at the memory, trying to disguise his amusement with a cough.

"You can laugh," she said with that same placid expression. "Everyone else did."

He sobered immediately, her matter-of-fact tone making him feel a little ashamed of himself. There was an awkward pause as Luna continued to stare at him and Dean fished about for something relatively nice to say.

"Er, well, you're getting better," he said finally. "I really thought there was a game going on over here."

"There is," she said, waving out toward the lake where the frogs were still hopping about. "It's been suspended because Grigory dropped the Quaffle. Well, it's actually a ball of yarn, but it serves the same purpose. I haven't quite figured out what to use as Bludgers. I'm using dead spiders now, but the players kept eating them." Luna waved toward the lake. "They've taken to Quidditch very well."

"But frogs can't really play Quidditch," Dean said slowly, dimly amazed that he was truly taking part in this conversation. "I mean, they're frogs."

"Of course they can't," said Luna, looking at him as if she pitied his denseness. "But if I can commentate a Quidditch game for frogs, which don't play Quidditch, I think I'd be able to do a better job for people, who do play Quidditch."

Dean started to reply, but stopped when he had a sudden thought that there was a sort of logic in that. The very idea of finding something logical about something Lovegood had said scared the pants off him, and with a hasty "goodbye," he turned and all but sprinted away.

II.

Over the past few days, Dean had grown to dread mealtimes. When he and Ginny had been together, they'd sat with each other, of course, sometimes with Seamus, too, but mostly off by themselves, doing more talking than eating. Now that she was with Potter, Ginny sat on the very end of a far-off table with him and spent the time wrapped up in each other, mindless of anything or anyone else.

Dean sighed aloud and poked at his food. Maybe if he didn't see them every time he looked around, he'd stop thinking about it so much. Maybe if he could find that bloody picture and destroy it, he'd be able to get on with it and not spend so much time remembering ... things.

Seamus was next to him heartily cursing Professor Sinistra in between bites of his food. Dean put in a word or two when it seemed necessary, but his eyes roamed around the Great Hall, Most of the Hufflepuffs were crowded together at one end, passing around something belonging to Ernie MacMillan. Dean was able to see, then, right through to the Ravenclaw table. Lisa Turpin was chatting with Padma Patil. Next to them was a cluster of Ravenclaw boys having a boisterous conversation.

His gaze traveled the other end of the table and rested on Luna Lovegood's bowed head. She was twirling her fork in her plate and looked about as interested in her food as he was in his. Dean thought about it and wondered why Luna always seemed to sit alone. Ginny had said that Luna wasn't a total outcast among people in her own house, yet it appeared that she was. Of course, there was always the possibility that Luna preferred solitude - or the company of frogs.

Looking at Luna, Dean was reminded of something Ginny had once told him, namely that it was possible that the blonde girl had had a soft spot for Harry Potter. There had been a good deal of buzz, too, when Potter had taken Luna to one of Professor Slughorn's little parties. Back then, Ginny had opined that it might be just the sign of encouragement Luna needed. Dean hadn't thought that Ginny sounded angry or jealous, but now he had to wonder. After that party, the buzz surrounding Potter and Luna had intensified, and Ginny didn't seem inclined to join in the gossip.

Dean wondered what had happened there. Maybe Potter had tried something with Luna and decided that she was just too bloody weird for him. And if so, could anyone really blame him? Dean shook his head when he recalled the "Frog-Quidditch" conversation by the lake.

"Why're you so quiet tonight?" Seamus asked at dinner. "Still thinking about that picture?"

"I suppose." Dean said, his gaze dropping to his plate. "I need to send in the portfolio before exams."

"You might find it by then," said Seamus. "But I don't see the big deal about it. You're always scribbling away at something. Why not take Nev's advice and draw something else?"

Dean's gaze wandered back to Ginny and Potter, and he sighed again. "I don't really want to think about it right now."

"I'd help you look, if I knew what I was looking for," Seamus said. "It'd have to be a lot better than revising for Astronomy. How could Sinistra give another rubbish assignment right before one of the last Hogsmeade weekends of the year?"

Seamus went on from there, much to Dean's relief. He wasn't really interested in his friend's grievances about the amount of work they needed to do, but Seamus's yammering was having the welcome effect of distracting him - mostly - from Ginny and Harry nuzzling each other only a few feet away.

III.

Dean settled himself at the lake next afternoon, sure that he was in the frame of mind to draw something halfway decent. Since all the nonsense with Ginny's portrait had emerged, he'd not been able to draw anything that seemed "right." Even before he had stumbled on Luna, he'd just stared at his sketchpad, not able to dredge up even a glimmer of an idea.

A somewhat better night's sleep had settled his mind somewhat. The way he figured it, the drawing of Ginny was in the dorm somewhere. The next time he found himself alone there, he'd just need to give the place a nice turning over. Until then, he was sure he'd be relatively safe - unless Weasley stumbled across the thing, that is. The more he complained about its loss, Dean figured, the more people would want to help look for it, and the fewer people involved in this, the better.

Dean flipped open his book to the next clean page, flexed his arm and tested the pencil point on his hand. He was sure he had enough for the portfolio that was required, but sometime during the night, he'd had the idea of doing a quick sketch of the exterior of Hogwarts - which he would label as a "Fantasy Medieval Castle." There was a lot of detailing that had to be done to make it presentable, but Dean had confidence that he'd be able to get it done in a week's time.

The rustle of grass drew his attention before he got more than a few lines on the page. He looked up and did a double take when he saw Luna casually walking near him. Dean gulped, wondering how he'd be able to get out of having to converse with her. And she's got that bloody frog on her head! Not even Nev is that attached to Trevor.

She passed quite close, but said nothing as she plunged through the bushes and crunched her way to the lake. Dean's head whipped around as she passed, and his brow furrowed when she disappeared through the brush without so much as a glance in her direction. Dean waited expectantly for her to settle in and begin her "practice." He wondered if he should move to another spot, because there wouldn't be any way that he'd be able to concentrate with Luna Lovegood, well, being Luna Lovegood, especially when she was so close to him.

So when he didn't hear anything for a second or two, Dean was somewhat taken aback. In fact, it had an opposite effect; since he expected to hear something, it was distracting to hear nothing but silence. He tried to put it out of his mind and concentrate, but he found he couldn't. He felt as if he were on a precipice, waiting for something to happen, and it was making him extremely fidgety. Taking a deep breath, he went back to his work, tracing out the outline of the castle, but he looked around now and again, almost as if he expected Luna to be standing there looking at him.

After a minute or two of putting down a line or two followed by furious erasing, Dean grit his teeth, stood, and moved as noiselessly as he could to the bushes that separated them. His curiosity wouldn't be satisfied and he might not be able to get any drawing done until he saw what she was up to.

Peering over a mid-sized bush, Dean spotted Luna lying supine very near the edge of the lake. Her hair was spread out like a blanket over the green grass and she looked to be sleeping.

Dean had never been able to understand people who could just lay out on the grass like that. Whenever he tried it, he'd be able to last about five seconds before feeling itchy and uncomfortable. At any rate, that solved the mystery as to why she was being quiet. Somewhat satisfied, Dean started to move away.

"Hello."

Dean nearly fell into the bushes again. Cor, how does she do that?

"Uh, hi." Dean noticed that the frog that had been on her head moments before was resting in her lap. At least, it looked like it was resting. The frog lay suspiciously still, and Dean noticed Luna looking down at the thing with quiet resignation.

"I was just, um ..." Dean scratched his chin, not sure exactly what to say. Mentioning to Luna Lovegood that he'd been jittery because she hadn't been making any noise would make him sound as dotty as she herself was supposed to be.

"Aren't you going to practice? Your Quidditch commentating, I mean."

"No." Luna smiled sadly. "Professor McGonagall told me that she's going to let someone else have a go at it next year."

"Oh." Dean felt a little bad about that. Yes, she had been awful, but it seemed a shame that she wouldn't get a chance to redeem herself. Or try to, anyway. "It's probably just as well - even using a Sonorous Charm, your voice goes wonky, I've heard, if you do it too long."

"Yes, and it's probably just as well, too, because my team has gone off." She gestured toward the lake. "Only Lancelot stayed, but he's getting on in age and he can't hop very well. I was going to make him the referee since in Quidditch, the referee is usually the person with the slowest broom."

"Sorry about that." Dean managed a flinty smile. "Nev seems to have those sort of problems with Trevor, too, though he always turns up. Maybe the others'll come back later on."

"Trevor is a toad," Luna said, "and toads seem to have more loyalty. I knew that once I ran out of Bludgers, it would be over. But I still have Lancelot. For now, anyway."

As if he sensed that he was being talked about, the old frog opened its eyes briefly but quickly lost interest in his surroundings.

She looked at him. "Do you like frogs?"

"They're okay, I suppose. I like Trevor."

"He's a toad, you know."

"Er, yeah, well ... I suppose I like toads, then. You seem to like frogs pretty well. Uh ... but when you have one on your head the way that you did, doesn't it hurt your head?"

"Of course not." She looked surprised. "Haven't you ever heard that frog's breath is a wonderful cure for headaches? With exams coming up, I would suggest that everyone try to go around with a frog on their head. At least in the daytime."

Dean couldn't think of a coherent reply to that, but soon, Luna was the furthest thing from his mind. There was a noise of grass rustling behind him, and he turned in time to see Ginny and Harry walking along that same footpath. This time, however, Ginny looked over and she stopped. Potter did, too, as a matter of course, and Dean held his breath, wondering what was going to happen next.

"Hello, Dean," Ginny said softly. She looked over his shoulder. "Luna? Is that you?"

"Hi, Ginny." Luna stood and shook the grass off her skirt. "Hello, Harry."

"Hey Luna, Dean." Harry looked very uncomfortable. "Nice day out."

Luna beamed, Dean scowled, and Ginny looked around with a vague smile.

"I suppose it is," Dean said, looking straight at Ginny. She met his stare for a moment and then her gaze dropped.

"You're drawing something!" she exclaimed, gesturing at the sketchbook. "Are you still trying for that Muggle art school?"

Dean was caught off guard by her enthusiasm, and the panic he'd felt earlier about the drawing rushed back.

"Uh - yeah. I mean, I hope so. I'm not drawing anything in particular. Just some rubbish sketches, that's all."

"Ginny, we'd better get on," Harry said quietly, "I promised Hermione we'd meet her in the library before practice, and then there's something I need to do before dinner."

Ginny looked at Harry and nodded. "Well, we'll see you two later." She gave both of them a curious smile before she and Harry continued on, hand in hand.

Dean watched them go, feeling a rising ... something bubbling from deep inside him and he had to swallow several times to keep that something from choking him. It made him angry that the whole situation still upset him. It was over and done with. In a few weeks, they'd all be out for summer hols, and then one more year and he'd never have to see Ginevra Weasley or Harry Potter again. Why the bloody hell couldn't he just keep it together any better than he'd done just a minute ago?

"Are you all right?"

Dean whirled around in shock. He'd honestly forgotten Luna's presence. She was looking at him steadily, but Dean thought he could detect something like pity in her eyes, and he could feel his face growing warm. With everything else that had gone on, he definitely didn't need Loony-bloody-Lovegood feeling sorry for him.

"I'm fine."

"You don't seem to like that they're happy," she said simply and began to hum beneath her breath.

"I don't care about it," he said, speaking a shade too loud. "It's over between Ginny and me. If she's happy with Potter, good on her. If she's not, well, that's not my problem, now is it?"

"I didn't know that being happy for someone could be a problem," said Luna after a moment's silence. "But I suppose that for some people, it is."

It was like a kick in the stomach, and for a moment, Dean forgot how to talk. Luna was fixing him with that same vague, unconcerned gaze and he felt sure that he was going to explode.

"So I suppose you're just fine with seeing Potter off snogging someone else?" He shot back, knowing that he wasn't being very nice and even more certain that at the moment, he didn't give a toss.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Luna gazed at him in real wonder. "Though, I haven't actually seen him snogging anyone else, but I imagine that's what he and Ginny are planning to do right now."

She looked at him for another second and then went back to her spot on the lawn and lay on her back, just as she'd been doing when he'd first seen her.

Dean stared at her until he felt silly about it, finally moving away slowly, head down.