The Visit
Rating: PG
Characters: Alphard Black and Albert Deschamps (OMC)
Disclaimer: Jo owns Alphard, but I own Albert. I'd love to have the set, though.
A/N: AU - The Black family, as depicted in communiquills, was written before JKR published the Black Family Tree. Alphard is the oldest of three brothers.
Sequel to The Letter
For my beloved friend alphatauri3791, on the occasion of her birthday. Baci, cara.
Million thanks to minnow_53 for her quick beta.
***
Alphard smoothed his robes once more, not to make them lie flat, but to dry the sweat off his hands. Finally, he drew in a sharp breath and went downstairs.
Achernar was eating breakfast and smiled when he saw his oldest son, dressed up for another day at work. Alphard was everything Achernar had ever wanted in a son: intelligent, handsome and with a strong sense of familial duty. He felt confident that Alphard would be a fine head of the family, as soon as he finished school and married the pureblood heiress who'd been promised him since birth.
He'd been a little surprised when Alphard approached him with a proposition: he wanted to spend his free time during the Christmas holidays at Gringotts, working with the goblins and learning all he could about money management. Achernar agreed Alphard had the brains to do so, but reminded him that it was unusual for a Black to accept paid employment. Alphard countered that it wasn't really work; he would be receiving no payment for it. It was more like an education - and something good for the family. It didn't befit the Blacks to leave all investment decisions to the goblins, after all.
Achernar immediately sent an owl to Gringotts, and by return post Alphard was offered an office and access to the goblins' financial expertise. Achernar was pleased to see that his son was taking the additional duties responsibly: Alphard was early leaving for work and late coming back home, most nights arriving just in time for dinner.
After the meal he would talk to his father in private in the library, updating him on the day's events. Achernar was impressed with Alphard's business acumen and the ease with which he conducted his affairs.
***
That morning Alphard ate little and excused himself early, saying he had to be at Gringotts soon.
"Aren't you working too hard, Alphard?" Cassiopeia asked. She had no interest in money matters and thought her oldest son was a bit eccentric in his zeal; Achernar, however, was almost bursting with pride and she accepted Alphard's oddities even though she didn’t understand them. This didn't prevent her from bragging about him to her friends, though.
"Mater, Gringotts will close on Christmas Day, and that's only two days away. I have to make up for that time."
"You won't work on Christmas Eve, I hope," she retorted sternly. "We have our Yule Ball and your presence is of utmost importance."
"I'll work half a day and will be here for the Ball, Mater," Alphard said pleasantly. He knew well enough why his presence was required: his intended would be there, and their interaction would be the talk of Wizarding society. Everyone wanted to see the heir of the Blacks with the girl he would be marrying.
"Achernar, what do you have to say about it?" she asked, affronted.
"Cassiopeia, Alphard is a very responsible young man. He knows his duties: I don't doubt he'll be here on time."
Alphard inclined his head slightly. "Thank you, Pater. I won't disappoint you." He rose after receiving his mother's nod at his request to be excused. "I will see you la-"
He was interrupted by his younger brother Arcturus. "Pater, can I go with Alphard?"
Alphard's stomach knotted. There was no way his very idiotic brother could accompany him that day. He was about to say something when his father spoke coldly. "Absolutely not, Arcturus. You have no business being at Gringotts. This is your brother's job as future head of the family. You're the second son. You'll do as he tells you."
Alphard suppressed a victorious smile, ignoring Arcturus's furious glare. The youngest brother, Altair, didn't say a word. He knew that he was quite low in the pecking order.
With a nod at his parents, Alphard rushed to the fireplace and was promptly taken to Gringotts.
***
The hours seemed to drag. Alphard looked at the clock on the wall every five minutes - or every second, it seemed. This was odd, he thought. Normally the day would fly by. He tried to spend as much time away from home as possible; the house stifled him, and his brothers annoyed him no end.
At first, his job had been an excuse to get as far away as he could from Grimmauld Place during the holidays. After a few days, though, he realized that he actually enjoyed watching the investments he had made and seeing them grow and he immersed himself in the family affairs with diligence.
He seldom took lunch outside, preferring to have a sandwich owled in from the Leaky Cauldron. His father, popping in one day as a surprise, had commented that he should take a break, to which Alphard had answered reasonably, "Pater, the markets don't stop for lunch." Achernar could sense that his very presence was distracting and never came back to check on his son. The daily reports Alphard gave him sufficed.
On that December 23rd, however, the hours crawled. Alphard went out at lunch time for a change and walked to the Leaky Cauldron, hoping that it would be crowded and the wait would make the time go a little faster. To his surprise, the place was virtually empty, and he returned to Gringotts barely thirty minutes after he'd left.
After lunch he couldn't concentrate on his work at all. In his mind he was going through the steps he'd be taking in a few hours, the words he'd be saying, the person he'd finally be seeing again. One minute, he’d decide it was all madness, and he wouldn't go through with it after all. The next minute, he knew he would.
His nervousness took his mind off the clock and soon enough he realized it was five o'clock. Time to go -- if he decided to go. He had to stop at the Leaky Cauldron again, nip up to the room he'd reserved for the day and change into the Muggle suit Michelle had left for him. From there he knew to hail something called a cab; he'd give the address to the driver and that would be it.
Drawing a sharp breath, he decided he could at least go to the house. Then, he’d find out whether he had the nerve to go up the stairs to Albert Deschamps' studio.
From a drawer he took the strange wallet that Michelle had given him, filled with Muggle notes. He'd taken the time to study the strange money and felt confident he wouldn't make too much of a fool of himself.
Telling himself that he was a Black and had nothing to fear from anyone, Alphard left Gringotts, en route to his first foray alone into Muggle London.
***
The cab stopped in front of a four-storey building. Alphard took the notes confidently out of his wallet and was smugly pleased that the driver had treated him as just another passenger. He'd passed his first test as a Muggle. With a confident smile, he stepped out of the car, looked up and had a bad attack of jittery nerves. He turned around quickly toward the cab, thinking about getting back to the Leaky Cauldron. To his dismay, all he could see was the fast-retreating car.
Alphard Black was alone in Muggle London, in a deserted street at dusk on a cold December night. He could walk somewhere to hail another cab, back to his life and his world, to the girl he would have to marry, to his duties as the head of a horrid family. Or he could enter the building. Upstairs, waiting for him in a cozy, warm studio, was the person he most wanted to see at least once more.
In a move that would change his life, Alphard took heart, and rang the bell at the door.
***
He thought that Albert would surely hear his heart beating as he climbed the stairs to the top floor. Rubbing his hands to dry them, he finally made it to the loft, and to the man waiting at the door.
"Mr. Black, what a pleasure. You had no trouble finding the place, I hope?" Albert greeted him, scrutinizing Alphard's face and shaking his hand.
"No, not at all," Alphard answered. "Your instructions were perfect."
"Please come in. It's cold outside. May I have your coat and hat?"
Nodding, Alphard took off the wool overcoat that Michelle had chosen for him. It was made of something she called cashmere and was light, yet incredibly warm. Alphard had touched the fabric in awe, wishing that he could wear that all the time instead of a heavy cloak.
It seemed that Michelle had good taste in Muggle things. Alphard noticed the glint of approval in Albert's eyes as he took the coat, and saw him fingering the supple fabric.
After Albert had hung up the coat and hat, he turned to Alphard, who had been observing his every movement. Blushing because he’d been caught staring, Alphard looked around at all the canvases, some still on easels, others framed and hanging on the walls.
"I'll be happy to talk about each of the works here, Mr. Black. But first, may I offer you some tea? Or maybe something stronger?"
The only thing stronger than tea that Alphard had ever had in his life was wine with his meals at home. He was too young to drink any cocktail, so he asked for a cup of tea, accepting a seat in an old but comfortable-looking chair.
Albert sat in front of him, openly studying Alphard's face: he felt a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. He felt even worse when Albert started asking questions about him - where he was from, what he did for a living. To the first question, Alphard answered sincerely that he was from London originally, but had left to go to school abroad; he hoped that Scotland would classify as "abroad". To the second, his answer was "I manage money," which he felt was true at that point in time.
Before Albert could ask other, more unanswerable questions about his family and where exactly he went to school, Alphard thanked him for the tea and got up, concentrating his interest on the displayed artwork.
Albert got up too and went to stand next to Alphard, describing his work and providing interesting background on the pieces. Alphard was finally able to relax and he became absorbed in the conversation.
Moving his eyes from one piece that appealed to him immensely to its neighbor, he noted the clock on the wall: it showed seven p.m. Alphard started. The Blacks had dinner promptly at eight and lateness wasn't tolerated.
With a tightness in his chest, Alphard realized that his time with Albert was drawing to a close. He had created this ruse to buy a painting so he could see the painter. He'd arranged for the Gringotts job so he could come to Muggle London that special day.
And now he didn't want to leave. But, come what may, he couldn't be late for dinner either. He turned to Albert, saying, "It's getting on, Mr. Deschamps. I have a dinner appointment and I'm afraid I have to leave soon."
He thought he saw a little disappointment in Albert's face and attributed it to the fact that he hadn't, in fact, purchased anything. He hadn't thought about actually buying a piece of art. For a start, he had no place to hang it. He couldn't take a Muggle painting to Grimmauld Place. He might, after he became head of the family, but not now.
But, if he bought a piece of art, then he would have to come back with the money, wouldn't he? The thought made him smile, which brought a glint of something different to Albert's eyes. "I'm undecided between two of your pieces, Mr. Deschamps," he said, pointing at both of them.
"Interesting," said Albert. "These are my favorite ones: Landscape in Summer and Autumn Wood."
"I can't choose," Alphard said earnestly. Now that he had pretty much told Albert that he'd buy a painting, he resigned himself to the idea of owning a Muggle landscape. He could leave it at Michelle's house for a while.
"It's a very personal issue, Mr. Black. I can't help you in this case," Albert said with a broad smile.
"I'll take both," Alphard exclaimed.
"Both?" Albert gasped in surprise.
"Yes," Alphard nodded enthusiastically. He would bring the money and take one of them; he couldn't possibly carry two at the same time. That meant he'd have to return a third time to the studio. The thought made him grin happily.
"Well, I'm…honored. Thank you, Mr. Black."
Alphard had no idea how much two paintings would cost, but he had some money saved from his birthday and from the monthly allowance his parents gave him. Since he never took girls out, he didn't have much use for money. He could also arrange for a loan at Gringotts, to be paid over time. Michelle could help, too. "Wonderful. I can be back after Boxing Day to bring the money to you and carry one of the paintings. If you don't mind, I'll return later for the second one."
"Oh, no, you don't have to do that," Albert answered, shaking his head. "You can arrange for a banker’s draft and I'll have the paintings delivered to your house."
Alphard panicked. He had no idea what a banker’s draft was and, worse than that, he had no house to which the paintings could be delivered. And deliveries meant that he wouldn't see Albert again. "No," he answered quickly. "I'll be more than happy to come and get them myself."
Albert shook his head. "Sorry, Mr. Black, but my insurance won't let me do it. They must be delivered and paid for by draft."
"Why's that?" Alphard hoped that it was a logical question.
"Because the insurance company requires a professional packing job and a review of the painting at the delivery end. It's just to make sure there are no damages. If you carry it yourself and the painting is damaged, neither you nor I will be covered. And the payment by bank draft is to guarantee that the goods have arrived before the funds are released to me."
Nodding sadly, Alphard looked at the clock: already twenty-five to eight. He had just enough time to get to the Leaky Cauldron and Floo back to what would be a dreary existence. In those few seconds, he realized that at least he'd have something from Albert forever, to remind him of the best couple of hours he'd ever had.
"All right, Mr. Deschamps. I'll be leaving London at the beginning of the New Year, but I'll ask my friend Michelle Higgins to contact you with the details for delivery. She will also arrange for the draft." He hoped that Michelle knew exactly what to do.
He accepted his coat and hat from Albert and shook his hand. To his surprise, Albert didn't let go. Gazing straight into Alphard's eyes, he said, "Mr. Black, this is something I've never done before, so please excuse me if I'm out of line. I do portraits occasionally and I'd like to do one of you."
Eyes opening wide, Alphard babbled, "Of…me?"
"Yes. You have a very classical face. And I'd like to do it as a thank you for your purchase today. Would that be acceptable?"
"It'd be an honor!" Alphard exclaimed, his heart leaping at the prospect of seeing Albert again. And maybe more than once. "How long would that take?"
"It depends. Maybe seven sessions of one hour each?"
Seven hours with Albert! "All right. I'll…be out of town, though, for a few months. When I come back, then?"
"That'd be perfect. I have a few commissions to finish first. When will you be available?"
Hoping that Albert wouldn't equate his answer with the end of the school year, Albert answered, "The end of June."
"Couldn't be better timing. By then I'll be done with the other work."
"I'll be in touch, then," Alphard answered, hoping that the intervening months wouldn’t go too slowly.
"All right. And if you come to London before then, maybe we could have a planning session?"
I can get away on Hogsmeade weekends, Alphard thought happily. There should be one coming up in February. "I'll be back sometime in February. I'll let you know when."
"Fantastic. Look forward to seeing you," Albert said with a broad smile, finally letting go of Alphard's hand.
Going down the stairs with a big grin on his face, Alphard turned back and saw that Albert was still at the door, watching him.
***
That night, at dinner, Alphard informed his parents that he'd like to spend next summer at Gringotts, too. Cassiopeia pursed her lips, but couldn't go against Achernar’s immediate assent.
***
That Christmas was the best ever for Alphard. He fulfilled his duties as the heir to the Blacks flawlessly and smiled courteously as he was complimented on the beauty of his bride-to-be.
Every time anyone said how lovely she was, another face came to his mind.
When the party was over, he went to his bedroom and, right before going to bed, crossed another day off his calendar.
One day less until February.
Characters: Alphard Black and Albert Deschamps (OMC)
Disclaimer: Jo owns Alphard, but I own Albert. I'd love to have the set, though.
A/N: AU - The Black family, as depicted in communiquills, was written before JKR published the Black Family Tree. Alphard is the oldest of three brothers.
Sequel to The Letter
For my beloved friend alphatauri3791, on the occasion of her birthday. Baci, cara.
Million thanks to minnow_53 for her quick beta.
***
Alphard smoothed his robes once more, not to make them lie flat, but to dry the sweat off his hands. Finally, he drew in a sharp breath and went downstairs.
Achernar was eating breakfast and smiled when he saw his oldest son, dressed up for another day at work. Alphard was everything Achernar had ever wanted in a son: intelligent, handsome and with a strong sense of familial duty. He felt confident that Alphard would be a fine head of the family, as soon as he finished school and married the pureblood heiress who'd been promised him since birth.
He'd been a little surprised when Alphard approached him with a proposition: he wanted to spend his free time during the Christmas holidays at Gringotts, working with the goblins and learning all he could about money management. Achernar agreed Alphard had the brains to do so, but reminded him that it was unusual for a Black to accept paid employment. Alphard countered that it wasn't really work; he would be receiving no payment for it. It was more like an education - and something good for the family. It didn't befit the Blacks to leave all investment decisions to the goblins, after all.
Achernar immediately sent an owl to Gringotts, and by return post Alphard was offered an office and access to the goblins' financial expertise. Achernar was pleased to see that his son was taking the additional duties responsibly: Alphard was early leaving for work and late coming back home, most nights arriving just in time for dinner.
After the meal he would talk to his father in private in the library, updating him on the day's events. Achernar was impressed with Alphard's business acumen and the ease with which he conducted his affairs.
***
That morning Alphard ate little and excused himself early, saying he had to be at Gringotts soon.
"Aren't you working too hard, Alphard?" Cassiopeia asked. She had no interest in money matters and thought her oldest son was a bit eccentric in his zeal; Achernar, however, was almost bursting with pride and she accepted Alphard's oddities even though she didn’t understand them. This didn't prevent her from bragging about him to her friends, though.
"Mater, Gringotts will close on Christmas Day, and that's only two days away. I have to make up for that time."
"You won't work on Christmas Eve, I hope," she retorted sternly. "We have our Yule Ball and your presence is of utmost importance."
"I'll work half a day and will be here for the Ball, Mater," Alphard said pleasantly. He knew well enough why his presence was required: his intended would be there, and their interaction would be the talk of Wizarding society. Everyone wanted to see the heir of the Blacks with the girl he would be marrying.
"Achernar, what do you have to say about it?" she asked, affronted.
"Cassiopeia, Alphard is a very responsible young man. He knows his duties: I don't doubt he'll be here on time."
Alphard inclined his head slightly. "Thank you, Pater. I won't disappoint you." He rose after receiving his mother's nod at his request to be excused. "I will see you la-"
He was interrupted by his younger brother Arcturus. "Pater, can I go with Alphard?"
Alphard's stomach knotted. There was no way his very idiotic brother could accompany him that day. He was about to say something when his father spoke coldly. "Absolutely not, Arcturus. You have no business being at Gringotts. This is your brother's job as future head of the family. You're the second son. You'll do as he tells you."
Alphard suppressed a victorious smile, ignoring Arcturus's furious glare. The youngest brother, Altair, didn't say a word. He knew that he was quite low in the pecking order.
With a nod at his parents, Alphard rushed to the fireplace and was promptly taken to Gringotts.
***
The hours seemed to drag. Alphard looked at the clock on the wall every five minutes - or every second, it seemed. This was odd, he thought. Normally the day would fly by. He tried to spend as much time away from home as possible; the house stifled him, and his brothers annoyed him no end.
At first, his job had been an excuse to get as far away as he could from Grimmauld Place during the holidays. After a few days, though, he realized that he actually enjoyed watching the investments he had made and seeing them grow and he immersed himself in the family affairs with diligence.
He seldom took lunch outside, preferring to have a sandwich owled in from the Leaky Cauldron. His father, popping in one day as a surprise, had commented that he should take a break, to which Alphard had answered reasonably, "Pater, the markets don't stop for lunch." Achernar could sense that his very presence was distracting and never came back to check on his son. The daily reports Alphard gave him sufficed.
On that December 23rd, however, the hours crawled. Alphard went out at lunch time for a change and walked to the Leaky Cauldron, hoping that it would be crowded and the wait would make the time go a little faster. To his surprise, the place was virtually empty, and he returned to Gringotts barely thirty minutes after he'd left.
After lunch he couldn't concentrate on his work at all. In his mind he was going through the steps he'd be taking in a few hours, the words he'd be saying, the person he'd finally be seeing again. One minute, he’d decide it was all madness, and he wouldn't go through with it after all. The next minute, he knew he would.
His nervousness took his mind off the clock and soon enough he realized it was five o'clock. Time to go -- if he decided to go. He had to stop at the Leaky Cauldron again, nip up to the room he'd reserved for the day and change into the Muggle suit Michelle had left for him. From there he knew to hail something called a cab; he'd give the address to the driver and that would be it.
Drawing a sharp breath, he decided he could at least go to the house. Then, he’d find out whether he had the nerve to go up the stairs to Albert Deschamps' studio.
From a drawer he took the strange wallet that Michelle had given him, filled with Muggle notes. He'd taken the time to study the strange money and felt confident he wouldn't make too much of a fool of himself.
Telling himself that he was a Black and had nothing to fear from anyone, Alphard left Gringotts, en route to his first foray alone into Muggle London.
***
The cab stopped in front of a four-storey building. Alphard took the notes confidently out of his wallet and was smugly pleased that the driver had treated him as just another passenger. He'd passed his first test as a Muggle. With a confident smile, he stepped out of the car, looked up and had a bad attack of jittery nerves. He turned around quickly toward the cab, thinking about getting back to the Leaky Cauldron. To his dismay, all he could see was the fast-retreating car.
Alphard Black was alone in Muggle London, in a deserted street at dusk on a cold December night. He could walk somewhere to hail another cab, back to his life and his world, to the girl he would have to marry, to his duties as the head of a horrid family. Or he could enter the building. Upstairs, waiting for him in a cozy, warm studio, was the person he most wanted to see at least once more.
In a move that would change his life, Alphard took heart, and rang the bell at the door.
***
He thought that Albert would surely hear his heart beating as he climbed the stairs to the top floor. Rubbing his hands to dry them, he finally made it to the loft, and to the man waiting at the door.
"Mr. Black, what a pleasure. You had no trouble finding the place, I hope?" Albert greeted him, scrutinizing Alphard's face and shaking his hand.
"No, not at all," Alphard answered. "Your instructions were perfect."
"Please come in. It's cold outside. May I have your coat and hat?"
Nodding, Alphard took off the wool overcoat that Michelle had chosen for him. It was made of something she called cashmere and was light, yet incredibly warm. Alphard had touched the fabric in awe, wishing that he could wear that all the time instead of a heavy cloak.
It seemed that Michelle had good taste in Muggle things. Alphard noticed the glint of approval in Albert's eyes as he took the coat, and saw him fingering the supple fabric.
After Albert had hung up the coat and hat, he turned to Alphard, who had been observing his every movement. Blushing because he’d been caught staring, Alphard looked around at all the canvases, some still on easels, others framed and hanging on the walls.
"I'll be happy to talk about each of the works here, Mr. Black. But first, may I offer you some tea? Or maybe something stronger?"
The only thing stronger than tea that Alphard had ever had in his life was wine with his meals at home. He was too young to drink any cocktail, so he asked for a cup of tea, accepting a seat in an old but comfortable-looking chair.
Albert sat in front of him, openly studying Alphard's face: he felt a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. He felt even worse when Albert started asking questions about him - where he was from, what he did for a living. To the first question, Alphard answered sincerely that he was from London originally, but had left to go to school abroad; he hoped that Scotland would classify as "abroad". To the second, his answer was "I manage money," which he felt was true at that point in time.
Before Albert could ask other, more unanswerable questions about his family and where exactly he went to school, Alphard thanked him for the tea and got up, concentrating his interest on the displayed artwork.
Albert got up too and went to stand next to Alphard, describing his work and providing interesting background on the pieces. Alphard was finally able to relax and he became absorbed in the conversation.
Moving his eyes from one piece that appealed to him immensely to its neighbor, he noted the clock on the wall: it showed seven p.m. Alphard started. The Blacks had dinner promptly at eight and lateness wasn't tolerated.
With a tightness in his chest, Alphard realized that his time with Albert was drawing to a close. He had created this ruse to buy a painting so he could see the painter. He'd arranged for the Gringotts job so he could come to Muggle London that special day.
And now he didn't want to leave. But, come what may, he couldn't be late for dinner either. He turned to Albert, saying, "It's getting on, Mr. Deschamps. I have a dinner appointment and I'm afraid I have to leave soon."
He thought he saw a little disappointment in Albert's face and attributed it to the fact that he hadn't, in fact, purchased anything. He hadn't thought about actually buying a piece of art. For a start, he had no place to hang it. He couldn't take a Muggle painting to Grimmauld Place. He might, after he became head of the family, but not now.
But, if he bought a piece of art, then he would have to come back with the money, wouldn't he? The thought made him smile, which brought a glint of something different to Albert's eyes. "I'm undecided between two of your pieces, Mr. Deschamps," he said, pointing at both of them.
"Interesting," said Albert. "These are my favorite ones: Landscape in Summer and Autumn Wood."
"I can't choose," Alphard said earnestly. Now that he had pretty much told Albert that he'd buy a painting, he resigned himself to the idea of owning a Muggle landscape. He could leave it at Michelle's house for a while.
"It's a very personal issue, Mr. Black. I can't help you in this case," Albert said with a broad smile.
"I'll take both," Alphard exclaimed.
"Both?" Albert gasped in surprise.
"Yes," Alphard nodded enthusiastically. He would bring the money and take one of them; he couldn't possibly carry two at the same time. That meant he'd have to return a third time to the studio. The thought made him grin happily.
"Well, I'm…honored. Thank you, Mr. Black."
Alphard had no idea how much two paintings would cost, but he had some money saved from his birthday and from the monthly allowance his parents gave him. Since he never took girls out, he didn't have much use for money. He could also arrange for a loan at Gringotts, to be paid over time. Michelle could help, too. "Wonderful. I can be back after Boxing Day to bring the money to you and carry one of the paintings. If you don't mind, I'll return later for the second one."
"Oh, no, you don't have to do that," Albert answered, shaking his head. "You can arrange for a banker’s draft and I'll have the paintings delivered to your house."
Alphard panicked. He had no idea what a banker’s draft was and, worse than that, he had no house to which the paintings could be delivered. And deliveries meant that he wouldn't see Albert again. "No," he answered quickly. "I'll be more than happy to come and get them myself."
Albert shook his head. "Sorry, Mr. Black, but my insurance won't let me do it. They must be delivered and paid for by draft."
"Why's that?" Alphard hoped that it was a logical question.
"Because the insurance company requires a professional packing job and a review of the painting at the delivery end. It's just to make sure there are no damages. If you carry it yourself and the painting is damaged, neither you nor I will be covered. And the payment by bank draft is to guarantee that the goods have arrived before the funds are released to me."
Nodding sadly, Alphard looked at the clock: already twenty-five to eight. He had just enough time to get to the Leaky Cauldron and Floo back to what would be a dreary existence. In those few seconds, he realized that at least he'd have something from Albert forever, to remind him of the best couple of hours he'd ever had.
"All right, Mr. Deschamps. I'll be leaving London at the beginning of the New Year, but I'll ask my friend Michelle Higgins to contact you with the details for delivery. She will also arrange for the draft." He hoped that Michelle knew exactly what to do.
He accepted his coat and hat from Albert and shook his hand. To his surprise, Albert didn't let go. Gazing straight into Alphard's eyes, he said, "Mr. Black, this is something I've never done before, so please excuse me if I'm out of line. I do portraits occasionally and I'd like to do one of you."
Eyes opening wide, Alphard babbled, "Of…me?"
"Yes. You have a very classical face. And I'd like to do it as a thank you for your purchase today. Would that be acceptable?"
"It'd be an honor!" Alphard exclaimed, his heart leaping at the prospect of seeing Albert again. And maybe more than once. "How long would that take?"
"It depends. Maybe seven sessions of one hour each?"
Seven hours with Albert! "All right. I'll…be out of town, though, for a few months. When I come back, then?"
"That'd be perfect. I have a few commissions to finish first. When will you be available?"
Hoping that Albert wouldn't equate his answer with the end of the school year, Albert answered, "The end of June."
"Couldn't be better timing. By then I'll be done with the other work."
"I'll be in touch, then," Alphard answered, hoping that the intervening months wouldn’t go too slowly.
"All right. And if you come to London before then, maybe we could have a planning session?"
I can get away on Hogsmeade weekends, Alphard thought happily. There should be one coming up in February. "I'll be back sometime in February. I'll let you know when."
"Fantastic. Look forward to seeing you," Albert said with a broad smile, finally letting go of Alphard's hand.
Going down the stairs with a big grin on his face, Alphard turned back and saw that Albert was still at the door, watching him.
***
That night, at dinner, Alphard informed his parents that he'd like to spend next summer at Gringotts, too. Cassiopeia pursed her lips, but couldn't go against Achernar’s immediate assent.
***
That Christmas was the best ever for Alphard. He fulfilled his duties as the heir to the Blacks flawlessly and smiled courteously as he was complimented on the beauty of his bride-to-be.
Every time anyone said how lovely she was, another face came to his mind.
When the party was over, he went to his bedroom and, right before going to bed, crossed another day off his calendar.
One day less until February.