Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. I)

Picture Perfect (Dennis Creevey)

Dennis breathed out deeply, eyes softening in his gratitude. He came to stand at my side, his arm brushing mine as he joined me in studying the painting I was working on. "I just felt like it was time to go back, that I was ready."

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With the end of another productive day coming to a close, I faced my most hated part of the day – tidying up. Setting the canvas I'd been working on aside, I gathered all my dirty brushes and the dirty palette I'd used to mix my colours together. Approaching the sink, I ran the water and methodically washed them all clean, making sure that not even the slightest spec of paint remained. Gathering the brushes in one hand, I shook them roughly over the sink before laying them flat on the towel spread over the counter. Washing my hands of any lingering paint, I dried them on the bottom of my apron.

Turning away from the sink, I rested against the counter and stretched my hands over my back to stretch properly for the first time all day. Whilst stretching, I surveyed the studio, wondering how much longer I could go before mopping the floors again. A tentative knock on the door brought me from my contemplations of putting off the mopping for another day.

For a moment, I just looked at the door and didn't approach it. The chances were it was Cora who'd come to bug me once more about a particular painting of mine. Apparently, it had caught the eye of a buyer who was willing to pay handsomely – unfortunately, it wasn't one I was willing to sell. No matter how generous the price offered was. Cora wanted desperately to sell the painting and was hellbent on convincing me. Perhaps it was my fault for not telling her why I didn't want to sell the painting, but it wasn't something I was yet willing to share.

"It's me," came a male voice through the door. It took me some time to place the voice, but when I did, I smiled widely. Wringing my hands dry once more on my apron, I approached the door and unlocked it.

"Dennis," I greeted, even before I'd looked at his face.

Stepping out the way, I let him into the studio, shutting the door behind him. When I turned to face him again, the smile I greeted him with faded a little when I saw the very familiar camera hung around his neck. It took some effort but I managed to recover my smile, but when I finally met Dennis's eyes, I hoped he could read the silent question in my eyes.

When he said nothing, I was forced to ask aloud, "Is that –"

When it became obvious that I wasn't going to complete the question, Dennis lifted the camera slightly before saying, "Yeah."

Reaching around the back to fidget with the tied strings of my apron, I asked slowly, "When did you get it?"

"Not look after he – after the battle." Clearing his throat, Dennis looked around the studio. When I gestured for him to come further in, I walked further ahead as he spoke, "I didn't even look at it for the longest time but I had some of the pictures printed recently."

"Did you?" I asked faintly, grabbing two stools and putting them next to each other.

Taking a seat, I watched as he approached me, without being able to take my eyes off the camera around his neck. During my time at Hogwarts, I swore I saw the thing every day. Helga, the thing was always tucked into Colin's bag and he'd pull it out whenever he got the chance. If I didn't see the camera, then it was a sign that he was having a shit day. Seeing it again was, in the strangest way, like seeing Colin again – of seeing his brown eyes peeking behind the lens as he held it aloft to take another picture.

Joining me, Dennis sat across from me and watched me in a stifled silence. Then, removing the camera from around his neck, he tucked it into a bag I didn't realise he was carrying. Withdrawing a white envelope, he fiddled with the corner, "I had some of the pictures printed out. Do you ... want to look through them?"