Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. I)

Picture Perfect (Dennis Creevey)

Did I ever think I'd write for Dennis Creevey? No, but here we are

I hope you like it ~ 

(This isn't edited...)

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No matter how many exhibitions I put on, they were just as nerve-wracking as the first one had been. My agent, who I'd lost when she ducked into the small congregation of people looking at my paintings, assured me that it was only because this was my fifth exhibition. I wanted to ask her if it ever got any easier, but because I was scared of what answer I would get in return, I held my tongue.

Instead, I found myself facing people who wanted to ask me endless amounts of questions about my work. Some seemed so awed by how painting worked in the muggle world and how much effort went into a single painting. I knew the crowd was made up mostly of pureblooded or half-blooded people who wanted a muggle painting in their home for novelty. These sorts of people were certainly easier to handle than those who were intent on looking for a deeper meaning in my paintings when there was none. Sometimes, a painting of a camellia flower really was just a camellia flower and not an outcry of desire like a particularly aggravating man who 'studied further the art of muggle paintings, I'll have you know' insisted.

Excusing myself before I could snap and lose a potential customer, I walked around the small gallery. From a distance, I hid amongst the crowd and watched as people reacted to my work without knowing that I was the artist – that was one benefit of being a no-name artist. I could easily walk amongst everyone who saw my paintings and could see their reactions without them filtering it in order to make me feel better. The overall reactions seemed to be positive and I welcomed them all.

My agent wanted me to become more well known. She wanted my talent to be rewarded (and for her to take home more money) but for now, I was content to be nameless. Just as I went to grab a drink from the table of drinks lined up in the corner, I heard my name called loudly from amongst the crowd. Recognising the voice, I sighed and resigned myself to being drinkless. Forcing myself to smile, I turned to face my approaching agent who had an elderly woman at her side. I could recognise from the way my agent was looking at me that this woman was a potential buyer.

Cora closed the distance between us, beaming in a way that had me putting on my professional smile. Standing between me and the potential buyer, Cora did the introductions and the pleasantries, effortlessly captured the potential buyer's attention and shifting the spotlight onto me when it was time.

"We were wondering if we could get a deeper explanation of a painting," Cora started, giving me a pleading look from behind the buyer's back, knowing just how much I hated having to explain the paintings that actually had meanings. It was like giving a stranger a peek into my heart and whatever swirled around inside me and wound up finding its way onto the canvas. It always felt too personal, too vulnerable to tell someone who knew nothing about me. But, there were some things you had to do in order to pay the bills.

"Of course," I agreed with a winning smile, letting Cora lead me toward said painting.

When we reached the painting – one that did have a meaning that tormented me, I swallowed thickly and wondered what to tell the buyer. Did I tell her the truth and say it was in memory of a dearest friend that I'd lost in my sixth year during the Battle of Hogwarts? Did I tell her about how horrific that year was and the only way I was able to cope with the grief of losing such a close friend was by throwing paint onto the canvas? Somethings were just too much to share.

"This is painting is dedicated to a dear friend," I started softly, hearing the lingering grief painting each word, "A departed dear friend who made my time at Hogwarts that much more magical."