Work Text:
Freedom
Draco was worried about his first nude model. Would he be nervous and fumble with his pencil? Would the model be offended if he asked them to change their position? Could he add lighting to enhance the model without getting too close and seeing… too much ? Did he get to choose the model’s stance? All those questions, and more, flitted through his mind, deepening his anxiety about signing up for Professor Mardem’s extra credit Art Challenge. What was he thinking?
After checking his email, all of those anxieties fell to the wayside.
Draco Malfoy,
After careful consideration, you have been assigned to work with model Weasley, G. You have two weeks to complete the assignment (see attachment for the rubric) and submit it via Canvas. I have pasted your model’s contact information to this email for your convenience.
I look forward to seeing your submission.
Professor M. Mardem
MS, MBA Director of Arts
Professor Mardem had assigned him to work with that horrid Weasley girl! And now, he had to stare at her for hours on end and try to make her stupid bloody freckles look good on canvas! Canvas ! Professor Mardem had to be absolutely bonkers to pair the two of them up. Everyone in Central Saint Martin’s knew how much Draco hated Gemma or Geanie or whatever the hell her name was.
Pulling the hair by his forehead, Draco released three careful breaths to calm himself. He squeezed the side button on his phone to turn the screen off and growled to his empty dorm. Knowing there was no way out of this pairing, Draco considered how long he could put off contacting the wench. Would she agree to not speak at all during their sessions? Draco only hoped.
R2D2 beeped from his pocket, signalling a text.
Oi. Malfoy. It’s Ginny Weasley.
What’s your sched this week?
LMK when we should plan our
first sesh. -GW
With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Draco considered his classes and the rugby try-outs before crafting a carefully worded reply.
Get a friend (you
do you have friends, don’t
you?) to cover up some of
those damned freckles. I
still have to
figure out how I’m
going to manage
to make you look halfway
decent.
He hit send with little regret before he saw those three small dots indicating she was responding.
You should probably start
by pulling your head out
of your arse.
Tomorrow at the
fountain, 7am.
Don’t be late.
7AM?! Are you off your
bloody rocker? No sane
human is up that early! On
second thought, makes sense
for you to be up that early.
Bloody maniac, you are.
Just be at the damned fountain.
He rolled his eyes as she sent a particularly unladylike finger emoji, and tucked his phone in his pocket. He was going to regret this.
Ginny met him by the fountain, her boots sliding in the grey slush. Pulling her peacoat around her snugly, she glared at the blond man before her.
“If this is where you think I’ll be doing a nude session, I’m reporting you to Professor Mardem,” she said, her glare narrowing even further.
An amused smirk crossed his features, “Christ, no. You’d cut glass with those,” he said, motioning towards her chest.
She gave him a ferocious look. “Are you going to be professional about this or not, Malfoy?”
He tried to hide the roll of his eyes but nodded. “Yes. We can start the basic outline and proportions anywhere - even clothed if you want—”
“I am a professional model, Malfoy. I can do a full set in the nude,” she retorted, eyes fierce with anger.
He resisted the urge to repeat an eye roll, “Fine, whatever, Weasley. Walk around nude for all I care.” Draco’s feet started moving towards the coffee shoppe on the corner. Ginny followed. “I’m guessing it’ll take about twenty-four hours.”
“Straight?!” Ginny screeched.
He sighed in annoyance. If I keep rolling my eyes, they’re going to fall out of my head. “No, you dunce. Twenty-four hours total .” He held the door open for her, and her eyes turned to slits. She was suspicious. Good. This was a temporary professional relationship; he didn’t want her getting any ideas that he was suddenly going soft.
They both grabbed their own drinks—a vanilla cappuccino for her and a Cuban coffee for him—before escaping the shop again. Ginny shoved one hand in her pocket, “So what’s the abstract noun you chose?”
“Huh?”
“The noun you chose to… draw or paint or whatever it is you do. Didn’t Professor Mardem say you had to choose one?”
He sighed, “I haven’t actually chosen yet.”
“Aren’t we starting today? The less we have to see each other, the better.”
“Trust me, I didn’t want you for a model.”
Ginny mumbled something under her breath about hating it even more later, but Draco didn’t ask for clarification.
“I just haven’t found the right word. I considered joy and defeat, but when I look at my canvas—my actual, linen canvas, not you —nothing comes to me.”
Ginny took another sip of her cappuccino, “Well, where are we doing this? My fingers are frozen in place,” she said, motioning to the pale digits around her cup.
“Oh bloody hell, you are so annoying. Fine, the only private options are dorms. So… yours or mine?”
Ginny glared at him, “My dorm mate is still asleep because she’s not a bloody lunatic. So I guess yours.”
Silently, he ushered her towards his dorm building, trudging through slush until they made it through the entrances and into his room. Upon opening the door and seeing his dorm mate, Draco made a sweeping motion with his hand.
“A’right, a’right, I’m goin’,” Blaise said. His eyes raked down Ginny as he exited, “But keep me in mind, luv.”
Ginny’s cheeks burned in embarrassment, “Er...”
“Good-bye, Zabini!” Draco growled and shut the door.
Unable to keep her eyes to herself, Ginny scanned the small room as Draco set up his easel and tools. When she removed her peacoat and jumper, Draco growled.
“Did you have to wear that rubbish?” he yelled.
“I happen to root for Liverpool, thank you very much!”
“You wore that just to annoy me, didn’t you?”
Ginny smirked, “Maybe.”
“Ugh, I can’t stand you.”
She laughed, long and loud, “I aim to please.”
He wiped the annoyance from his face, “I’m ready when you are.”
She nodded, and he could see the nerves begin to show on her face. Draco stared at his blank canvas, feeling uncomfortable as she removed the rest of her clothing. He heard her throw it on his bed in an ungraceful heap.
With a nervous smile, his eyes met hers before unconsciously glancing at her body.
“Wh-Why—”
“Why am I covered in scars?” Ginny answered for him. He gave an uncomfortable nod. “I was kidnapped when I was eleven. I escaped, but not without a few reminders,” she added, her arms crossing her belly and hands grasping the opposite hip. She was protecting herself, he realized.
Draco’s grey eyes studied her, absorbing every white scar that littered her freckled body. Her brown eyes met his, her chest heaving with every nervous breath. She waited for him to ridicule her body—as if the scars of her past could hinder her choice in career.
“Freedom,” he said simply. “My word is freedom.”
Ginny gave a misty smile, praying the tiny tears that clung to her eyes would vanquish.
The creation was done in record time. Ginny was surprised at how comfortable she was naked, especially in front of this rude boy she’d always found obnoxiously arrogant. Draco, on the other hand, couldn’t say when his hatred for her disappeared. Perhaps it was somewhere between the outline and the details, or the shading and the background. Perhaps… perhaps it was never truly there at all.
By nightfall, he sat back in his chair and sighed. Ginny took a chance and looked at him, even though she was told not to move.
“It’s done,” he said, barely above a whisper.
“Really?”
Draco nodded, rotating the easel towards her. Tiptoeing as if a loud sound would destroy it, Ginny stood next to him. Her eyes darted across the canvas, soaking in how her body was translated onto it.
Her legs were shoulder-width apart, elbows bent at a fraction of an angle. Hanging from her wrists were broken manacles, but her eyes—oh, her eyes… they were burning with a ferocity she had never seen before.
“What do you think?” he asked.
Holding back a sob, Ginny could only nod.
“Thank you,” Draco said. “For being so helpful.”
“No,” she whispered, her eyes moving from the canvas to him, “Thank you… for not erasing my story.”