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The wind rustles the emerald oak leaves above me. I turn back and see the Parthenon in the background. Sometimes I wish I had been painted with a companion. Of course, it’s nice to have the entire portrait to myself, but it does get lonely, especially when there are no Gryffindors waiting around to go into the tower.
I let out a heavy sigh.
To my avail, no one bothers to check on me. Rude. Clearing my throat, I let out an even louder exhale.
“What, Gertrude?” a voice above me snaps.
“Oh, Violet! I didn’t see you there.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Violet gives a leap into my portrait, appearing on my right. She shakes off the dark hues of her own painting until she acclimates into the soft pastel tones of my own.
“How are you, dear?” I ask, noting the white cotton nightgown that she’s changed into for the night instead of her customary plum robes. Looking down at my own pink silk dress, I feel refined and ready to go for a drink. Maybe the night might still prove to be eventful, or at least, Violet might have some tea to spill.
“I was sleeping, or at least attempting to, but never mind that,” Violet answers.
“The castle is just so dreary tonight! Dumbledore requested that I ‘man the post’, as he so put it, but honestly, past curfew it’s just so boring! Not a single sneaking Gryffindor is out tonight. But, I suppose it is quite the responsibility to have the power to deny entrance to intruders. You remember the danger I was in with the whole Sirius Black situation from a few years ago…”
While I gaze at my nails in the flickering faint light from the torch on the wall, Violet mumbles, “You never let us forget.”
“What was that?” I ask, unsure I heard correctly, but my attention has drifted back to the red paint at the tips of my fingers. I’ll need to tell Filch he needs to re-do them, as I’m not so keen on the colour anymore.
“Oh! Gertrude! Did you see what happened with the Weasley boy and the girl?”
“Hermione?”
“No! Well, somewhat! He was snogging the blonde Gryffindor in their year, the one who’s always in the Divination tower!”
“Lavender? Why you didn’t say?” A gasp escapes from me as I put together the scene after last night’s Quidditch celebrations. A couple had tumbled out of the portrait hole, but by the time I had swung back shut, their giggling laughter had already disappeared down the staircases. “No wonder that poor Hermione stayed out so late!”
“ Prefect Hermione Granger? Out late? Was she out with Potter and Weasley again?”
“That’s the thing, she was on her own! It must’ve been one in the morning when the poor thing came dragging her feet. Her eyes were puffy, and she’d chewed on that lip to death!”
“You don’t say?”
I recall the droop of her shoulders, the way she swiped the remnants of her dried tears off her face as she stepped up to my portrait. I would’ve normally given whoever disturbed my beauty sleep a telling off, but the words had evaporated from my mouth. I’m not even sure if Hermione did say the password, I simply swung open and hoped the house-elves had left the fire on for her.
Violet takes the silver pitcher at my side and pours me a large glass of ruby-red wine, then takes one for herself. “I want to stomp up to that boy and give him a piece of my mind,” she says, before sipping her drink. “I always thought it would be Ron and Hermione that got together!”
“I’ve said so for years ! I suspected ever since their third year. Do you remember how miserable Hermione was when the boys didn’t speak to her? Doping about the castle, hair madder than The Hatters’, you know, the fellow from the Great Hall portraits?”
Taking another swig, my lips are met with air, so I pour another generous glass for myself and top up Violet.
“No, it was later!” she says, “Do you not remember the Yule Ball! Well, I don’t remember much from after , but when Hermione emerged down to the Great Hall, oh she was stunning! I hardly recognised her! The way all the boys were drooling over her. After that, Weasley was head over heels!”
“The point is,” I raise my glass, the juices sloshing down the sides into the cool marble floor of my portrait, “Ron and Hermione need to get together! I’ve seen it before, the blooming friendship, the teasing, the longing looks. Those two are meant to be! I saw it with James and Lily, and before that with Molly and Arthur! It took both of those couples to get together but when they did, oh it was so wonderful! I didn’t even mind when they snuck around out past curfew.”
“Don’t Ron and Hermione look adorable when they’re doing their prefect rounds? I swear, they walk together shoulder to shoulder just so their knuckles graze each other.”
“I never hear Hermione laugh as much as when they’re together,” I nod.
“If only there was something we could do!”
“Dear, we’re paintings , sentient, but paintings! The best we can do is hope we get some good tea.”
“Don’t you mean wine?”