Chapter Text
“Bonjour Monsieur Dupont, un grand café s’il vous plait”. I looked around the small café, its walls lined with abstract paintings, surrounding beautifully carved wooden tables. The smell of fresh coffee drifted through on the breeze and wrapped me in a warm sense of familiarity.
“Monsieur Potter, est ici votre café. Ayez un bon jour” said the young man behind the counter, his mouth forming a wonderful smile as he turned to look at me. I smiled back, took my coffee and walked back out onto the street, turning to the river, just in time to catch the sunrise over the rippling water.
Walking the familiar route towards my studio, I let my mind wander. The British wizarding newspapers had spent years speculating where I had gone after the war. I had received owl after owl, trying to find me, trying to get me to come back. I wouldn’t though. I had done my part.
Pulling my keys out of my pocket, I unlocked the door to my studio and walked in. My paints lay untouched from where I had left them the day before, and the sun was just beginning to stream in through the window. My latest work hung proudly on the wall. It showed a woman, her hair blowing in the breeze, looking out longingly over the river I walked by so often.
My assistant Carlo, I knew already had a buyer lined up. It never took long for my artwork to sell. In this part of France, I was becoming nearly as well known for my work with a brush, as I was for being the boy who lived. I turned back to the blank canvas on the other side of the room.
For now, I could relax. I had not been commissioned to paint anything for the moment, and I was considering painting something just for myself, something to keep. I looked fondly over to the far side of the room as Carlo slid open the door and strode in, Les Sorciers, the largest French wizarding magazine tucked under his arm.
“You didn’t manage to make the front page this week boss. Losing your touch” he said, as he sent me a cheeky smile, and discarded the newspaper on my workbench.
“Ah Carlo. I was worried you wouldn’t make it in today. Angie told me you had a big night last night. Quite a lot of wine was involved if I am not mistaken”
“Wine cannot defeat a man like me Harry”. “Now, is there a reason you are staring at that blank canvas and holding an empty coffee cup?” He asked, as he took the cup from my hands and replaced it with a second hot cup of coffee.
“You know Carlo. I was thinking of doing a piece for myself. Something I can enjoy”
“If you wanted a naked model Harry, all you had to do was ask”
“Thank you for the offer, but not really what I had in mind”
He gave me his best indecent smile, and winked. Then laughed, and turned to walk into his office. “Carlo. Hang on a second” I said, an idea popping into my head.
“Yeah Harry?”
“Can you find me a model? Someone willing to sit still for hours and be painted. You know the kind of person I like.”
“The fit blonde kind Harry? I can certainly try. Give me ten, and I will go out. I’ll let you know what I find”
“Thanks Carlo”
A few hours later, Carlo returned, to find me curled up in my favourite arm chair, with my sketchbook in my lap.
“Whatcha drawing Harry? My gorgeous face?” he asked, as he dropped his bag on the floor and discarded his camera on the table.
“Yeah actually. Come have a look” I said, my face morphing into the most serious expression I could manage. I leant over my sketchpad, as if making a few final touches, as he walked over, an easy smile playing on his face. “You see?” I said, holding it up to show him.
He looked at the drawing and let out a low chuckle. “Well played Harry. Though I am not entirely sure what resemblance I hold to a pug”
“You would know, you spend enough time admiring yourself in every reflective surface you pass”
“You’re just jealous I’m taken”, Carlo shot back, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Ah Carlo. You may be fit, but you’re not blonde. You know my type. Anyway, did you find anyone?”
“There was one young woman I thought may take your fancy but she was a muggle, and unwilling to believe a complete stranger wanted to paint her. Go figure. Anyway, I will look again tomorrow.”
I nodded, and closed my eyes as Carlo gathered his things and left the room. I decided I could probably afford to take the rest of the day off. I had been meaning to visit Juliette all week, but hadn’t had the time. Rising off my arm chair, I pulled on a long black coat and left the studio.
Quite some time later, I found myself outside a small bookshop, and pushed open the door. “Juliette!” I called, unwilling to search for which corner she was residing in today. She walked around a tall shelf of books and smiled at me.
“Bonjour Harry” she said, smiling softly, her unruly brown hair framing her face in gentle waves. “You have finally come to sweep me off my feet yes?” she said, her lips twitching slightly.
“Juliette, if I had the slightest interest in women, I can assure you I would have stolen you years ago”. She nodded knowingly and walked closer towards me, kissing me on both cheeks.
“So, Monsieur Potter, what is it that brings you here today?”
“Just thought I would drop by. I am looking for someone new to paint, wondering if you would finally give in, and agree to be my model”
“Harry you give me too much credit. I have however, recently become acquainted with a man who I think is perfect for the job.”
“Yes? Who?” I asked, knowing Juliette had never steered me wrong before.
“He just started working at one of my favourite cafes, not too far from here. I can take you, if you would like”.
“Lead the way”.
After she had locked up the shop, we strolled along the quiet street together in comfortable silence. She led me to a small café I had never seen before, and pushed open the door. She pulled me to a table in the corner and gestured to the other side of the room.
“There Harry. That is him” she said, gesturing to a man taking orders on the other side of the room. I looked over, and saw the man she was gesturing to. He had his back to us, his short white blonde hair falling just below his collar, his casual suit hugging his lean frame.
“Juliette he is gorgeous from behind. Is his face just as chiselled?”. She looked at me, trying to hide a smile. She stood up and approached the man. Tapping him on his shoulder. I looked down, my hands gripping the menu I had just been brought. Juliette should do the talking. I needed to know the man was interested before he found out who exactly wanted to paint him. Minutes passed. I straightened my jacket, ran my hands through my hair, and read the entire menu four times.
“Monsieur. Cet homme est l'artiste” I heard Juliette say, as she and the man stopped in front of me. Finally, I looked up slowly. Fine hands, and arms, a stronger chest than I had first thought. My eyes finally came to rest on his face.
“Potter!?”
“Malfoy.”
“You know this man?” Juliette asked, switching back to English, a puzzled expression coming over her face.
“Merde. Yes. We know each other.” Malfoy quickly said, his voice almost expressionless. He turned to leave, pulling his arm from Juliette’s grasp.
“Malfoy wait! Stay.”
“I have to get back to my shift Potter”
“I’ll wait”.
He looked at me, raised an eyebrow, and then nodded once. Turning his back, he walked away.
Four hours passed, the evening sun now slowly sinking below the horizon. I sat in the booth in the corner of the room, my sketchbook in my lap. I watched Malfoy as he worked, carefully sketching him as he stood behind the counter. I wanted to see how he looked on paper, if I would be able to paint him in a way that would best capture his features.
I had spent a long time debating if I should just get up and leave. Find someone else who I didn’t have a history with instead. I knew that we had both grown up, now 10 years between us and the war. The last time I saw him, I had testified at his trial. I never stayed to find out the verdict.
Finally, Malfoy ushered the rest of the customers out at closing time, and locked the door. He made two strong coffees, and came to sit down opposite me in the booth, handing me one without a word. He leant back, and I quickly closed my sketchbook.
“So, Potter.” He started quietly, “You want to paint me”
“That’s basically it Malfoy. It would probably take a few weeks to finish, nine until four most days.”
“Why should I agree to this? It’s not like we have ever seen eye to eye Potter”
“I needed a model for a project I am working on. You fit the mould.”
“And whose house am I going to end up in Potter? Who is this little project for?”
Harry paused nervously for a few moments. He debated whether or not he should tell the truth. He was doing the painting for himself after all, something to keep after so many years of selling everything he created. “My house Malfoy. It’s a piece for myself”
Malfoy stared at him blankly. He opened his mouth, and closed it again, several times. He seemed to be struggling with what he should say to that. “Why on earth would you want to paint me? To keep? We were never exactly friends Potter.”
I considered that for a moment. “I know Malfoy, if it bothers you, you can keep the painting I suppose. But I would still like to paint you.”
“Why on earth would I need a painting of myself?”
“You spent enough time in school admiring yourself Malfoy”
He smiled a small smile, and shook his head. “I suppose you are right Potter. I am not that man anymore though”
“I can tell.”
Draco shook his head. “How do I know you are even an artist Potter? How do I know you aren’t just luring me into a trap for revenge after all these years?” I shook my head and pushed my sketchpad across the table, reluctantly letting it go as he reached for it.
I knew as soon as he opened the book he was convinced. He flipped through my sketches one by one, a rare look of wonder on his face. Finally, he reached the one of himself, picturing him smiling as he hummed and made a coffee behind the counter. He stared at it for a few moments, and then looked up at me.
“I will have to think about it Potter. Do you have a card?”
I handed him my business card, and he quickly stood, strode to the door and ushered me out, handing back my sketchpad.
“I’ll see you soon Malfoy”
“Potter.”
I looked around me, seeing no one else in the street, I twisted sharply on the spot, apparating back to my flat.