Dean Thomas and the Peculiar Paintings (The Deviant x Myself)

[BlackestKnight]

Shell Cottage, ever since the skirmish back at Malfoy Manor and their arrival to the beach safe house, Dean exhibited a certain emotional withdrawal from the others of Dumbledore's group. Perhaps without his intentions being so but Dean kept to himself. Something he wasn't known to do before. He spent hours at a time hold up in the attic, only surfacing when necessary. His presence at times was like a shadow. Something you know of, but faintly recalled.

None of the other students had bothered to check with him so far, but everyone had their own personal demons to contend with at moment, which made it all the more easy for him to go virtually unnoticed. Something he had an unintentional talent for at times.

On one occasion however, Dean would find that the secret world he created up in Bill and Fleur's attic would receive a guest of sorts. The subject of many of his attic "inspirations". A peculiar blonde he knew from his years at Hogwarts, why so many of his images featured her likeliness came as a surprise to him to even him , he found that he enjoyed drawing Luna the most out of the girls, it didn't cross his mind as to why until he returned to the cottage and his attic art space.

 

[The Deviant]

Luna had woken up that morning with an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. It often seemed that no matter what, she was always cheerful, always off in her own little world, but this wasn't always the case, and it was hitting her especially hard now. She needed to find a place to be alone, and she needed to get away before she could run into any of the others. If they saw her acting any different, they might worry. She didn't want them to worry any more than they already did over everything else.

Still in her dark blue silk nightgown that barely reached her thighs, she quietly sneaked up to the attic, feeling around for the light switch. As the lights came on, she looked around in awe at the paintings surrounding her. There was a familiar figure in most of them, and after some observation, she realized it was her.

The sadness that had weighed so heavily on her chest when she woke up dissipated, replaced with a deep curiosity. Who could've been painting all these portraits of her and a few of the other Hogwarts girls? She didn't peg any of the Weasleys as artists, Hermione seemed far too busy fretting over their strategies, and she's already seen Harry and Neville's poor attempts at drawing in the past.

That only left Dean.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned just as the young man in question ascended the staircase. He appeared shocked and a little embarrassed, and she couldn't help but smile her usually absentminded grin. "Hello Dean!" she greeted cheerfully, "I like your paintings."