(no subject)
Author: Irisri
Title: The Picture
Rating: G
Summary: It hangs on the wall, collecting dust, protecting the wallpaper from the germs and dirt that gathers around it.
Pairing: Draco/Hermione, sort of
Prompt: Picture dhr100
Prompts Complete: 34/100
Words: 548
Warnings: Disregard for Epilogue
Disclaimer: JKR owns all.
It hangs on the wall, collecting dust, protecting the wallpaper from the germs and dirt that gathers around it. Once a week, someone comes to spray glass cleaner on it and wipe it away. It sits alone, in a room with nothing in it except the occasional castaway stands and furniture that no one in the manor wants.
Within the frame, behind the glass and in front of the cardboard are three smiling faces.
The first, a man, his teeth white and shining. Blonde hair, cropped so that it frames his face, so light its like sunlight. A straight nose, one that says aristocrat, below blade-straight brows, darkened by charms, and grey eyes just below those. Black lashes frame the eyes that have just a hint of coldness, even as he smiles, that says he would do anything to protect what’s his, that says he would do anything, absolutely anything to get what he wants. Lean shoulders connect to arms that are almost lanky if it wasn’t for the muscles that subtly corded them, and one arm is wrapped around a woman whose head is against his chest.
The second person, the woman, has dark hair with hints of caramel through her curly locks. The hair is wild, framing her face, cascading down her curvy body, only to stop at her waist. Pale skin with chocolate brows and dark brown eyes look at the camera person, filled with love and happiness. A small nose, slightly crooked, makes a line to a full cupid bow mouth that curves delicately, and suddenly the head turns and laughs at the man. The arm that isn’t around the man’s waist curls around a child.
The third person, a child, at the mere age of three, looks slightly disgruntled at the thought of having to sit in one spot for any amount of time. But she looks up at her mother, and sees her mother looking at her father, who looks at both of them, and decides she can wait a few more moments. Her hair is a dark brown, though straight unlike her mother’s, and her brows are slightly arched. Grey eyes stare with mischievous innocence, and a small button nose wrinkles when the woman whispers something in her ear. Then the child is wriggling, and finally gets free, only to run from the camera’s view. Then the scene replays.
But time has passed, and shortly after the picture was taken, so was the woman and the man. The only thing they left behind was their daughter, who sneaks into the room when her grandmamma isn’t around, for she isn’t allowed in the room, to stare up at the picture, and to wonder what they were like, and to wonder why they’d been taken so soon.
Then she slips from the room, before a house elf comes, and gracefully puts her hand on the stairway rail and goes downstairs to her afternoon lessons. Her grandmother will ask why she smells of dust, and she will only say that she was going through some old things of hers.
Her grandmamma will believe her, the girl knows, for she’s said the same thing many times before, since the first time she accidentally walked into the room with the picture of her mother and father.
Title: The Picture
Rating: G
Summary: It hangs on the wall, collecting dust, protecting the wallpaper from the germs and dirt that gathers around it.
Pairing: Draco/Hermione, sort of
Prompt: Picture dhr100
Prompts Complete: 34/100
Words: 548
Warnings: Disregard for Epilogue
Disclaimer: JKR owns all.
It hangs on the wall, collecting dust, protecting the wallpaper from the germs and dirt that gathers around it. Once a week, someone comes to spray glass cleaner on it and wipe it away. It sits alone, in a room with nothing in it except the occasional castaway stands and furniture that no one in the manor wants.
Within the frame, behind the glass and in front of the cardboard are three smiling faces.
The first, a man, his teeth white and shining. Blonde hair, cropped so that it frames his face, so light its like sunlight. A straight nose, one that says aristocrat, below blade-straight brows, darkened by charms, and grey eyes just below those. Black lashes frame the eyes that have just a hint of coldness, even as he smiles, that says he would do anything to protect what’s his, that says he would do anything, absolutely anything to get what he wants. Lean shoulders connect to arms that are almost lanky if it wasn’t for the muscles that subtly corded them, and one arm is wrapped around a woman whose head is against his chest.
The second person, the woman, has dark hair with hints of caramel through her curly locks. The hair is wild, framing her face, cascading down her curvy body, only to stop at her waist. Pale skin with chocolate brows and dark brown eyes look at the camera person, filled with love and happiness. A small nose, slightly crooked, makes a line to a full cupid bow mouth that curves delicately, and suddenly the head turns and laughs at the man. The arm that isn’t around the man’s waist curls around a child.
The third person, a child, at the mere age of three, looks slightly disgruntled at the thought of having to sit in one spot for any amount of time. But she looks up at her mother, and sees her mother looking at her father, who looks at both of them, and decides she can wait a few more moments. Her hair is a dark brown, though straight unlike her mother’s, and her brows are slightly arched. Grey eyes stare with mischievous innocence, and a small button nose wrinkles when the woman whispers something in her ear. Then the child is wriggling, and finally gets free, only to run from the camera’s view. Then the scene replays.
But time has passed, and shortly after the picture was taken, so was the woman and the man. The only thing they left behind was their daughter, who sneaks into the room when her grandmamma isn’t around, for she isn’t allowed in the room, to stare up at the picture, and to wonder what they were like, and to wonder why they’d been taken so soon.
Then she slips from the room, before a house elf comes, and gracefully puts her hand on the stairway rail and goes downstairs to her afternoon lessons. Her grandmother will ask why she smells of dust, and she will only say that she was going through some old things of hers.
Her grandmamma will believe her, the girl knows, for she’s said the same thing many times before, since the first time she accidentally walked into the room with the picture of her mother and father.