Dean sat before his canvas. For the first time he had an actual commission. It had to be good. It was for Harry and Hermione. He didn't want to let them down, not after how much they had supported him. They'd both stayed still, holding poses so he could sketch out the perfect moment in the perfect light. Harry had actually helped him convince McGonagall to pose in her feline form, wearing a pointed hat and just short of jumping on a ball of yarn.
He'd borrowed his father's old Polaroid, so he could take a lot of pictures of the church and the Baptism. They were all arrayed on his desk beside him, lit by the good northern light. He picked up one of them, a close up of little Jimmy with his surprisingly thick mat of dark hair. Then another caught his eye, that of the baptismal font. He knew what he was going to paint now.
He began with the smooth warm cream with just a touch of orange for Jimmy's skin. Pure, untouched, with just a hint of wetness. Dean nestled him in a white towel, resting in his mother's arms. The beginning of Hermione's white and cream dress taking shape around him. Then Dean found himself adding Harry's arm, encased in his royal blue suit jacket, the only one that had fit him in stock the Saturday before.
Once he had Harry and Hermione's bodies positioned, he skipped away from them for a moment, needing to define the scene. The baptismal font grew behind Jimmy, its stone mass paneled with crosses. Father Edwin appeared, white cassock and green stole, one hand reaching out in blessing, the other holding the Sacramentary. Just behind him Seamus formed, dressed in his altar server attire, white and black with a green stained Celtic cross.
Hermione's hair formed around her not yet painted face, brown ringlets, curls teased from a bushy mass into angelic frame. The light teased her hair, giving it ranges from deep umber to golden brown. The face sprung to life, an expression of peace and wonder at the child she held.
Harry's face appeared next, with his signature scar and brilliant green eyes, hidden behind new gold frames. His hair was still in its irrepressible mess. Never did it seem to find order, though it did not cover the scar.
Over his right shoulder, barely a head higher, a Weasley formed. Seriousness and duty were reflected in his stance and duty. His shoulders were squared, and his gaze met Father Edwin's, as if to assure the priest that Percy Weasley, even if no one else did, would teach Jimmy well.
Behind Hermione's left shoulder, the stern visage of Professor McGonagall grew, well informed by long classroom observation and a few previous sketches. Her clan tartan featured in her dress, as always, though a wet spot appeared, a reminder of Jimmy's reaction to being baptized.
"Dinner time," his sister's voice interrupted Dean's burst of creativity. His belly echoed his sister's cry.
Only then did Dean realize he'd painted through lunch, and the light was beginning to go. He quickly cleaned his brushes and put aside his paints. Looking at the painting, he found himself surprised how far he'd managed. In one uninterrupted session, he'd finished almost three quarters of the painting.
Maybe this commission thing would work.
Ron Weasley knocked softly on his sister's door, trying to get her attention to invite him in without letting his mother know he was talking with his grounded sister. Ron was used to his mother's tirades when he or his siblings did something wrong. He'd never seen his mother wait, however, until they got home. It was also the first time he hadn't heard what any of his sibling's punishment was.
The door opened, revealing the tear stained face of his sister. "Come to pile on your little sister?" she asked. She was still wearing the bikini that had gotten her in trouble. Even with her hair messed up and face tear stained, his sister still could challenge him.
"Let me guess, Percy?" Ron said.
"Yes, he said he was practicing for his girls," Ginny said, pushing back her hair back into a ponytail, as she allowed Ron into her room.
"Have he and Penny finally broken down and found out the sex of their babies?" Ron asked.
"No, he says he can't stand the thought that they might be twin boys like Fred and George," Ginny said, flopping back onto her bed. He knew that she had made her bed that morning, but now it looked more like his normally did than the perfectly done you could bounce a knut off made bed that she'd been able to do since she was five.
"If I were Fred and George, I'd be offended," Ron said, sitting down at the foot of his sister's bed. "So, what did Mum say?"
"Three days confined to the Burrow, I'm to get a more suitable swimsuit, and no more swimming naked in the pond, as it's obvious that I need more support," Ginny said, crossing her arms below her developing breasts.
"I don't know if they really need more support," Ron began, "and while I kind of wished you hadn't got so much of Neville's attention with that suit, it wasn't really that much different than the other girls."
"The other girls were all at least twelve," Ginny said, uncrossing and recrossing her arms the other way. "I'm apparently still a little ten-year-old who really shouldn't be showing off her body. If I'm not careful I'll turn into some scarlet lady or something."
"Well, I kind of noticed you making sure Neville saw you," Ron said. She had posed against the pool ladder, in such a hot pose that all of the boys near him at least had reacted. Well, not Harry, who was a bit distracted by Hermione. Not that was abnormal for him. "You were the cause of him missing his mouth and spilling that drink."
Ginny was as red as he'd ever seen his little sister as she replied, "I only did that because Parvati wanted to prove that there wasn't a girl there who couldn't get a boy's attention. She was right, unless you count Elle, who is only eight, and we didn't."
"Yes, Hermione sure has some hot friends," Ron smiled. "I don't think she realized how many friends she really has, though. Not as close as the Gryffindors, like us, but she can't have been alone and friendless, like she once complained."
"From the way Erin and Heather talked, I think that she was that way until near the end of her last year at Queen of Heaven," Ginny said, her blush receding. "That football game changed things, I think. At least that's what Heather said, when she wasn't too busy going after you."
"Yeah, she was cute," Ron said, remembering how the muggle girl had looked in her yellow polka-dot bikini. She hadn't as much up there as Hermione, but who'd want to go through what Hermione had for her development? Waddling to class, carrying around a bowling ball, practically. And that was before the two AM feedings that she'd mentioned a couple weeks ago for why she was yawning.
"Still admiring Heather's yellow polka-dot bikini," Ginny interrupted his thoughts.
Ron looked up suddenly, having been unaware that his gaze had dropped. "What, no!" he exclaimed.
"Me thinks you doth protest too much," Ginny replied.
"Doth protest too much ... you spent too much time talking to Hermione today," Ron accused.
"Not according to Mum," Ginny replied, her tone dropping back to a dull one. "Apparently I was too busy strutting around the back garden practically nude with boys who could barely control themselves. I should be grateful that the presence of adult supervision kept me from following Hermione into the puddling club."
"As one of those boys, and being friends with the rest, I really should mount a defense of our honor," Ron replied.
"I think that's the problem," Ginny replied, sitting up with a suddenly mischievous smile. "Mum thinks you're going to mount a few of us girls. Instead of broomsticks."
"I believe girls are supposed to mount broomsticks," Ron shot back. "Which reminds me, can I join you in your midnight broom ride? I know you used my broom a couple days ago, and don't deny it."
"Of course I'm going to deny using your broomstick," Ginny said, effecting a tone of incredularity. "I would never use a brother's broomstick. That's just sick, Ron." She paused for just a moment. "Neville's on the other hand..."
"You keep making it less and less likely that I'm going to ask Neville over," Ron said, effecting a serious tone. "It's almost as if you don't like him."
"Ron," Ginny groaned. "You promised."
"Okay, I'll make sure he comes to visit near your birthday," Ron conceded, reaching out to push a strand of his sister's hair back behind her shoulders. "Just don't rile Mum up. Mum overreacts to stuff, and I don't think she wants to see either of us grow up. I think we're both still six in her mind."
"If that," Ginny groaned. "I don't think she'll see us as grown up even when we bring grand children home to visit their grans."
"Probably not," Ron acknowledged lightly, standing. "Midnight behind the shed?"
"I'll use Percy's broom," Ginny said. "I so want my own broom."
"I'll talk to Neville about that," Ron said, moving quickly towards the door. "He can afford ..." His words got cut off as Ginny's pillow hit him just as he turned while reopening the door.
"Ron! I'm not a scarlet woman!" Ginny yelled as Ron retreated, a big smile on her face.