The Tell-tale Art

IV.

For Dean, the next few days fell into a predictable pattern: Classes, meals, maybe a game of Gobstones with Nev in the Common Room, and more searching for the drawing. Nothing turned up, lessons dragged, and it was getting harder to dodge Harry and Ginny, who'd taken to lounging around in the common room, holding hands. Dean reckoned that they had just as much right to be there and do that as anyone, but he wasn't particularly keen on seeing it.

The thought that the common room might be "occupied" caused Dean to take refuge in the library one afternoon after Ancient Runes. It was a wet and windy day, though not particularly cold, and Dean was making good progress on his castle picture, having had an opportunity to work on it in Arithmancy and - to a lesser extent - Charms. He hoped to get a bit more done, and he silently thanked God when Seamus opted out of going to the library with him. Apparently his friend's resolve to be more serious about schoolwork extended only so far.

The library was somewhat more crowded than usual, what with Fifth-Years revising for O.W.L.s, tired-looking Seventh-Years revising for N.E.W.T.s and assorted students working on year-end assignments. It took Dean a moment to find a table that wasn't crowded with books or people, and he walked briskly toward it only to stop dead when a figure darted out from between the shelves. Luna dumped an armload of books on the table and ignored the glares and "shushes" aimed at her head.

Dean backtracked a little and hid a little behind a bookshelf, not sure what he should do next. Since that episode near the lake with Harry and Ginny, Dean hadn't really seen Luna other than at mealtimes in the Great Hall.

For some reason, though, seeing her now made him feel a bit bad about how he'd left things between them. It wouldn't do to act like a berk every time someone mentioned Ginny - or Potter, for that matter. He'd told everyone that he didn't care anymore, after all. It was high time, he thought as he walked toward her, that he started acting like it.

"Hi. Is anybody sitting here?"

Luna looked up in surprise, then over at an empty chair. "Well, if you sit down, I suppose someone will be sitting here, yes."

Dean considered that a moment and warily took a seat. All right. Now what do I do? He gnawed his lip while he cast about for something to say. "So. Where's, um, Lancelot today?"

Luna blinked at him. "He's dead."

"He's dead? Are you serious?" Dean frowned. "But he looked all right - sort of - the other day."

"Yes, that was a good day for him," she said with a strange smile. "He had a bit of a toffee biscuit. Faded rather fast after that. I buried him near the lake. It was his favorite place, you know."

"Crikey, that's horrible ..."

"He was old and I was rather expecting it," she said. "He was a lovely frog, though."

"Did you have him a long time?"

"Two weeks," said Luna. "And I didn't have a single headache in all that time."

"Well, then it's good that you have something nice to remember him by," murmured Dean. The headache thing aside, he didn't feel at all odd about the conversation, so far. He'd lost a number of pets during the years, and while he'd never worn any on his head, he could empathize with Luna's predicament.

"D'you think you'll get another frog? Not right away, but eventually?"

"Of course." Luna looked somewhat wistful. "Though I don't have very much luck with frogs. Or newts, either, but that's a different story."

Dean was sure that it was, but decided to leave well enough alone. He remembered, though, Luna's expression of resignation when she'd cradled the ailing Lancelot, and it made him want to be kinder to the girl.

"How many frogs have you had?"

"Quite a few. They all died, of course. Well - one ran away." Luna was lost in thought a moment. "And the other might have been eaten by a Jibberty snake, but that's not very certain."

"Cor, you really don't have much luck with frogs." Dean shook his head. "Don't you reckon you should try something else? I know Hermione has a cat, and that seems to be going all right. Or an owl, maybe."

"I like frogs," Luna said. "Maybe I've not been quite good at keeping them around yet, but I think eventually, I will. It would be silly to give up entirely just because I've had some bad experiences in the past."

That stirred some vague thought in Dean's brain, but he couldn't pin down exactly what he was reminded of. At the tail end of his vision, he caught Luna winding her tie around her wrists as though they were handcuffs.

"Um, listen," said Dean, looking around and then lowering his voice. "I wanted to say that ... uh ... I'm sorry about the other day."

"The other day?"

"You know, after Pott- after Harry and Ginny left. I was kind of a prat to you."

"You were?"

"Well, yeah. I - it's just that ... I, um, I've lost something," Dean said, "and I've been looking everywhere for it and I don't think I'll ever find it again. It's frustrating, and that day I saw you, it just all sort of hit me at once."

"I understand," she said with a nod. "I lose things all the time - well, some of them are taken from me, but I suppose that counts as losing them. Have you put up an advertisement?"

"What? No." He quickly shook his head. "I don't want anyone to find it."

"You don't?"

"Well, I mean, I want to find it, but I don't want anyone else to find it." He squirmed at her inquisitive look. "It's a long story."

"You could tell me if you wanted," she said. "I like long stories. But would it really be so awful if someone else found it?"

"It would be awful. Beyond awful, trust me," he said grimly. "If I ever do find it, I'll just chuck it in the lake or something. At least then I know there's no way anyone else'll know about it."

Luna looked puzzled. "I thought you said this was something important."

"It is."

"But if you find it, you'd throw it away?"

"Or tear it into bits, yeah."

"Then why bother being upset that it's lost?" she asked. "If you only want to throw it away, then it's probably better that you never find it at all."

He thought about that. "I suppose that's true, but this thing is a little different. It could ... hurt someone. As long as it stays lost, there's a chance it could be found, and that wouldn't be any good for anybody."

"But it's important to you."

"It's important that I find it for all the reasons I just said." Dean paused. "And it's important in other ways, too."

Luna cocked her head, but asked no more questions. The conversation lapsed then and she flipped through a few of the books she'd gotten. Dean considered leaving but figured that as long as he was there, he might as well take advantage of the quiet and work on his castle drawing.

Flipping open his sketchbook, he immersed himself in the task, drawing for nearly a half-hour before he came up for air. He lifted his eyes and was startled to see Luna staring at him over the edge of a book she was holding upside-down.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No. I like watching you work." She put the book down and rested her chin in her hands. "You're an artist?"

"I like to draw, yeah. It started off as a hobby. It still sort of is, I suppose."

"I wish I could draw," she said, tucking her quill behind her ear. "I think I would draw my frogs. Then I'd always have something a bit more lively to remember them by when they leave."

"I don't think frogs are that hard to draw, actually -"

"When they're sitting still, maybe not. But what do you do when they move?"

"Uh ...?" Dean wasn't really sure how to answer that question, but then Luna went on to another.

"Do you draw people, too?"

"Sometimes." Dean began to sweat at the thought of the drawing again. "Usually I don't, though. Being at Hogwarts, there's other interesting things to draw - things I wouldn't find in the Muggle world."

"I think people would be interesting. Not everyone can draw people." She was silent a moment. "But then, not everyone can draw a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, either."

"I suppose not," Dean said, trying not to laugh. "I know I probably couldn't."

"That's a good thing," she said, smiling at him. "If you can draw either people or a Snorkack, that means that you're quite talented. If you were able to draw people and Snorkacks, then it is highly probable that you'd be abducted by Aurors and forced to participate in their scheme to flood the Ministry with propaganda making light of the Rotfang Conspiracy."

"The Rot ... what?" Dean's lips began to tremble. Luna's expression turned faintly indignant.

"It's true! Dad has people that are willing to go on the record about kidnapping artists and forcing them to retouch the pictures of Aurors' teeth."

Dean's head fell forward and he shook with laughter. He barely heard the voices around him telling him to quiet down, and he barely felt Madam Pince's bony fingers as they dug into his shoulder and propelled him out of the library. Dean let himself be dragged away, but he twisted around to get another look at Luna. The solemn look in her eyes reminded him of the last time he'd seen her with Lancelot, and his laughter stuck in his throat.

*

Later that day, during a lull in Arithmancy, Dean turned a page in his book and sketched a frog. He didn't recall what Lancelot had looked like, really, especially since the animal had been asleep - or something - most of the time, but he thought it was a pretty fair representation. Dean studied the page critically, thinking that it looked kind of dull. It was just a picture of a frog, after all.

He jotted down some ideas in the margin, but the next thing he knew, he was drawing Lancelot in a more lively setting. Dean chewed his lip and stared at the page, a bit startled to realize that he'd drawn the frog squatting on the head of a figure with an oval face and a pair of prominent, pale eyes.


V.

Dean hated drawing hair. It was the one detail that he tended to save until last - along with noses and feet - but hair gave him more trouble than both those things combined, usually. With Ginny, though, it had been easy - just a long curtain of red and some strands over her forehead.

But Luna's hair was proving a greater challenge. Her hair was a little on the wispy side, but long and sort of ... floaty. He was having a hard time illustrating all that without making the girl look as if she'd been dipped head-first into a vat of Flobberworms or had been on the receiving end of a Petrification Curse.

He puzzled over this problem in the common room as Seamus grumbled over some schoolwork next to him and Weasley and Potter played Wizard's Chess at a nearby table. Hair aside, Dean was somewhat proud of his progress. He'd gotten the rough outline done by the end of Arithmancy and was now fleshing out the picture.

But other than the speed in which he had put the concept together, Dean wasn't quite sure what to make of the piece. Luna looked almost normal, sitting in a tuft of grass, wand behind her ear, staring off into an imagined distance. Dean recalled some paintings he'd seen in Muggle museums of pale, waif-like women in voluminous dresses with billowing hair and sad, serious eyes. Luna, Dean thought, would fit right in with those ladies of long-ago, except for her radish-like earrings and the frog squatting atop her head.

The scraping of a chair brought Dean out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Harry standing from the table.

"That's it for me, Ron. Four games is my limit."

"But you almost won that last one, mate! Let's have one more go."

Harry shook his head. Dean saw him glance toward the portrait hole and frown. He'd done that intermittently since he and Ron had come down to the common room, and Dean could only surmise that Harry was waiting for Ginny. As such, Dean also had an eye toward the portrait hole. Once Ginny came in, that would be his cue to go elsewhere.

"How about you lot?" Ron said, looking across the room. "Either of you fancy a game of Wizard's Chess?"

"Can't," said Seamus without raising his eyes. "Still have three inches to go on my Charms assignment."

"Yeah, I'm working on something, too," murmured Dean, not displeased with his fifth try of Luna's hair. "Sorry."

"Reckon that's it then," Ron said rather grumpily, putting the pieces away. Moments later, there came a muffled sound that Dean recognized as the trilling of the Fat Lady, and the portrait hole swung open.

Every head in the room snapped up as Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil entered, each of them loaded down with books. Harry's face fell and he stalked over to a far corner of the room.

Lavender stopped short when she spotted Ron, and Dean looked over in time to see the redhead go crimson in the face and focus intently on the chess pieces. Lavender stared at him for a moment, mouth trembling, and then with a sob she didn't succeed in muffling, sprinted toward the staircase that would take her to the girl's dormitory. Parvati gave Ron a thoroughly disgusted glare before running after her friend.

Dean and Seamus traded knowing looks as the commotion died down, but Dean was very well aware that neither he nor Seamus knew much about what had happened between Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown. They'd seemed inseparable for most of the year, then Ron had that poisoning scare and soon after that it was all over between them.

Seamus was of the opinion that Ron had done the dumping since Lavender couldn't be within two feet of him without going sniffly, but Dean wasn't so certain. Ginny had once told him that Ron was "in over his head" with Lavender. Dean interpreted that to mean that Lavender had the power in that relationship.

He was thinking this over when the portrait hole opened again and Hermione Granger stepped through followed by Ginny. Ron's face immediately grew radiant and Harry spun round and covered the space between himself and Ginny in about two strides. Dean rolled his eyes, and Seamus gave him a surreptitious pat on the shoulder.

"Either of you fancy some Wizard's Chess?" Ron was speaking to both girls, but Dean noticed his focus squarely on Hermione.

"I don't think so, Ron," said Hermione absently. "I still have to proofread my Potions essay. You have finished yours, haven't you?"

"Uh ... I suppose."

"What do you mean you suppose?"

"Er, well, I know what I'm going to write. I just need to get round to it, is all. It'll take me about 20 minutes at most -"

Ron was interrupted by Hermione scolding him on procrastination and the importance of getting work done well in advance of the deadline. Dean found it interesting that instead of looking annoyed, Weasley was grinning at Hermione as if she were telling him the answers to every N.E.W.T. he'd have to take next year.

"Where're you going?" Seamus asked when Dean stood up. Glancing at where Ginny and Harry were talking, his forehead wrinkled. "Here, mate, don't let them run you out," Seamus said in a furious whisper. "You were here first!"

"Never mind," returned Dean quietly, but he hadn't taken two steps before Ginny looked up.

"Hi, Dean. Hey, Seamus."

Seamus mumbled a hello, and Dean nodded. Ginny gave him a curious smile and stepped out of the circle of Harry's arms. She glanced at the book in his hands and gave a startled sort of laugh.

"You're going everywhere with that book lately," she said. "Just how many pictures do the Muggles want?"

"I just want to give them a good selection," Dean said, looking longingly in the direction of the staircase. "They'd like to see different styles and subjects and that. Least, that's what my mum told me."

"Have you found that other picture you lost?" asked Seamus. "Neville thought he spotted it under his bed, but it was just that one you drew of Trelawney. Good thing, too - Trevor had eaten half the page."

"You lost a picture?" Ginny asked before Dean had a chance to respond. "When?"

"Uh ... I don't really know. I hadn't seen it in awhile." Dean felt cold sweat trickle down the back of his neck. "It's not that important -"

"Not important?" echoed Seamus incredulously. "You've turned the bloody dorm inside out looking for it!"

Dean briefly closed his eyes. Bugger! Can't he keep his gob closed? "Yeah, but -"

"Maybe I have it," Ginny said, looking thoughtful. "I have loads of your sketches. What does it look like?"

"Don't worry about it," he said hurriedly. "Like I said, it's not that important. I don't need it for my portfolio anyway."

"Are you sure? It wouldn't take that long to just look." Ginny smiled and tilted her head in the direction of his book. Then she blinked and appeared to study the page more intently.

"That looks nice. What is it?"

"Huh?" Dean followed her glance. "Oh, nothing. Just something I started in class. It's not really done yet."

Ginny leaned closer and her eyes went wide.

"Is that Luna?"

"Uh ... yeah." Dean squinted at the page. "And her frog. Lancelot."

When he looked up again, he was startled to see Ginny looking not at the drawing but at him, mouth slightly open.

"You're drawing Luna?"

"Lovegood?" Seamus was standing now, looking as if someone had just set off a dungbomb underneath his feet.

"Why?" Ron blurted. The outburst earned him a withering glare from Hermione, but even she seemed to be curious as to the answer.

Dean scratched the back of his neck, not sure what the fuss was about. If he could draw a troll in a tea cozy and Professor Trelawney trapped inside her own crystal ball, what was so strange about drawing an ordinary girl. All right, so Luna Lovegood was anything but ordinary. Dean understood that, but ... what was the big deal anyway?

"I ..." Dean looked from one astonished face to the other, uncomfortable at being the focus of attention. "Blimey, I don't know. I felt like it. I mean, her frog just died and she seemed a little down about it all ..."

This lessened the tension in the room, and judging by the look on a few faces, the sadness of the occasion had hit home. Seamus, however, was still staring with a look that Dean couldn't quite place, but he did know that it made him extremely nervous.

"Since when do you give a toss about Lovegood's frog?"

All eyes locked to Dean as the question hung in the air. Dean searched his mind for an answer, but only remembered the look on Luna's face when he laughed about the Rot ... whatever thing she'd been talking about. And suddenly, deciding that he'd probably had said more than he'd intended to, Dean turned and left.