forced | d.m.

20.realism

March '01 | H E R

Althea magically directs her equiment into the leather case—table easel, palette, professional apron and all sorts of painting tools swallowed by the extension charm.

In the last three weeks, things have picked up in Althea's artist department. She has actual jobs now that she's going after—mostly witches and wizards who want a piece of her work and her initials signed in the corner.

Those jobs have been solely portraits so far and today's is no different. She has gone the exact route she planned for and it is making her as happy as she thought it would.

And it's not that she does it for the money. No, last week, she cut the price way down because the old lady didn't seem to have as much. Draco advised against it when she came home that day, stating it'll lower her value. Althea can see his point, but she couldn't help it. Ms. Charlize was too adorable.

Painting is to spread her name. Finally having a purpose other than looking pretty beside her husband—which is still a duty she pursues with pride. Only now she has filled a hole she hadn't known existed.

Two strong arms hugging her shoulders from behind bring a stop to her thoughts, his warm, firm body molding against her back as he lays a kiss on her cheek. Sighing contentedly, Althea leans against him, hands laying on the smooth, soft worsted wool of his suit.

Right here, she can't remember anything ever feeling this right.

The feel of his cheek against her head. The scent of rich cologne with a mix of apple shampoo. How could she possibly stand being four days without him?

"You don't need to take this job, darling," he says. "You don't need the money."

It came sort of last minute, as in she received an owl the evening of yesterday, talking of urgent matter. It's been a hassle, she has to admit, pushing other pressing appointments and postponing her day date with Jacob—biggest bummer of them all— but she won't bow out now.

"Experience, Draco." They sway a little on the spot, eyes studying her atelier that has grown in inventory and is in dire need of organizing. "I need—I want experience. I love what I'm doing."

His exhale is steady against her head, calming her nerves for the while. "I know. I'm really proud of you, you know that?"

Thank heavens he doesn't see the hardcore blush or the ridiculous grin. Head to toe, she is fused with warmth. "I do."

A gentle kiss is layed down where his cheek was before it returns, arms giving a slight squeeze to her shoulders. "I'll miss you."

The forlorn note is not just found in his tone, but his eyes as well when she turns around, bringing her arms around his neck.

"I'll miss you too." She frowns, not liking the severe sadness on his face. Maybe touching his cheek will make it better. "The bed will feel so lonely."

For four days they will be parted for a business he has not much saying over. It happened twice before, nothing of the unusual, but this time she can admit to herself that his absence will take it's effects.

His eyes close, savoring the touch like she did the hug, though she can't shake the feeling of something lying underneath. His forehead slants against hers, some quiet breaths exchanged. "You'll wait for me?" 

That charms a smile out of her. What kind of question is that? "For the rest of my life."

He is kissing her in the next breath, soft sweet slow and it produces it's own kind of magic, giving the feeling of lifting into the air, if only a hair's breadth.