Together, They Were Perfect

She was painting a picture.

It was a picture of a handsome young man whom she had known many years ago. It seemed as though it had been a previous lifetime - and now she saw him only in her dreams, never reality.

Every day, she would wake up before the sun rose and sit down at her easel to paint. Just as the amber-gold waves would spill in from her studio window, she would rise to go to work. Then each night, when darkness spread its vast, starry curtain across the land, she would continue to paint, not exactly knowing why she did it.

And though she had never formally met the man, never befriended him, she seemed to know him. Her paintbrush easily glided over the canvas, catching the smooth lines and curves of his face, the angles and color of his beautiful hair... it was almost as though she had captured his very soul in a jar and then released it into her painting. It was funny, because the last time she'd seen him, he'd only been about seventeen. But she'd simply painted his face as though he were thirty. She wasn't entirely sure, but she guessed that her painting would be pretty similar to his actual face - less than fifteen years older, but just as handsome. After all, she'd seen him so many times in her dreams that painting his face came as naturally as breathing. There was something about this man that she just couldn't put her finger on. Something intriguing and mysterious...

She lived in solitude, as she had for all of her adult life. Now and then, family members or old friends would drop in to visit, but they would eventually leave. She understood, and she wasn't lonely. Her paintings kept her company. It was odd, really, to think of a painting as a companion. But she did. She thought especially of the unfaltering gray eyes of her dream man's portrait as her guardian angels - when they were watching over her, nothing bad could happen.

She hardly ever used magic anymore, especially in her paintings. She may have used the odd summoning charm now and then when she was feeling lazy, but she would never use her wand to create her art. And so it was odd that she had managed to finish the painting in only a few short weeks. It was a beautiful portrait of him, but she knew that something was missing. Though she was troubled by the thought that she had left something out, she eventually decided to set it aside and started a different picture. A self-portrait.

It was easy to fall in love. She did so each time she began a fresh picture. The canvas was so spotless and new that it just begged to become an attractive painting; it pleaded with her to spread her ideas across it with the swoop of a paintbrush or the flick of her wrist. She loved painting, but more than that, she cherished the idea of having a clean slate. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world: being able to start anew, as if a whole new world was waiting to be discovered and explored.

And explore it, she did. She began the self-portrait with a renewed vigor: letting her hand sway across the paper as she looked in the mirror to note the lines of her face. She was quite pretty, actually. Her hair was long and fiery red, and it seemed to whisper secrets to her ears, cascade over her shoulders, and dance down her back. She had full, cherry-red lips, a smattering of light tan freckles over her button nose, and deep, maple brown eyes that sparkled with an unrequited love.

Before long, she had finished it. It was somewhat plain, yet elegantly beautiful. But as with her last completed portrait, it seemed as though she had forgotten something. What was it? What had she forgotten?

She was ready to tuck it away and begin on a fresh new canvas, but she looked at it long and hard, trying to discern what she hadn't included. An idea played in her imagination, and then spread like a wildfire in the forest. It seemed to sparkle and crackle just as a fire would, growing larger and more prominent as she contemplated it; considering it carefully. It was a strange thought, perhaps. But maybe...

She saw nothing as she went into her living room. Paying no attention to the sharp cracks of thunder, the sudden explosions of lightning, or the pulsing of the rain outside, she walked slowly toward her small, homey den. As if in a trance, she hung her self-portrait above the fireplace. With automatic, methodical hands, she hung up the first painting - her dream man - right beside it. And she had been right. They looked perfect together.

Both were posed in the same way. She had painted only their heads and shoulders, and both were looking toward the side of the painting, as though seeing something outside of the frame. Her downy crimson tresses were streaked with sunny gold; highlights. Somehow, unknowingly, she had used the exact same color for her highlights as she had for his entire head. She remembered from Hogwarts that his hair had been his pride and joy: shiny, platinum blonde, and beautiful. So in a peculiar way, his silvery-blonde hair coordinated perfectly with hers. Both were clad in silky green robes - his more of a deep, snake-like green; hers lighter and complimenting her light skin and striking scarlet hair - and held their heads high. And they were different, too. She was slender and somewhat petite, (having somehow missed inheriting her mother's... well... rounded figure) while he was broad-shouldered and gave the impression of being strong and powerful. Her deep, russet-brown eyes shone with unshed tears and an endearing innocence, while his cloudy gray eyes flashed with arrogance and smugness... yet they were content and poised, as well. She had always suspected that behind that practiced confidence, he was somewhat insecure and had tried to make up for it with his quick brain and even quicker insults. Lost in these thoughts, she looked at each portrait carefully, not detecting that outside, the storm had stopped; peace had descended. If she had observed that, she might have wondered why the storm seemed to subside so swiftly. But she had no idea what went on around her. She knew only what she was thinking, and that was that even though these two people came from different worlds; different families, and they could never be together, somehow, when put side by side, she realized that she had found what had been missing. They had been missing... each other. Together, they were perfect.