Dean took stock of his supplies, trying to make sure that he'd not forgotten anything.  He was a bit anxious, truth be told.  This would be a commission that could give him an "in" with the exclusive - and very lucrative - high society scene.  Dean just wished that he could remember more about Tracey Davis.  All he could recall from his Hogwarts days was that she was pretty, and that she hung out with Goyle and Zabini.  Dean just hoped that she wasn't too obnoxious with him - he still had a problem controlling his smart mouth, sometimes. Whittom Park, here I come, he thought. Concentrating, he disappeared with a sharp crack.

The house-elves led a confident looking young man into the lounge and Tracey greeted him with a handshake. "Hello, you must be Mr. Thomas. I'm Tracey Davis. Please, have a seat. I'd like to hear your thoughts on this 'thing' before we get started."  She gestured to one of the chairs littering the room and sat on an adjacent sofa. "Would you care for something to drink? Tea? Coffee?"

"Please, Ms. Davis - call me Dean.  And some coffee would be wonderful, thank you ."  He paused for a moment.  "To be honest, I wasn't given much information concerning what the requirements were for this portrait.  Am I correct in t that this is going to be in a fairly formal setting?"

After beckoning a house-elf for their tea and coffee, Tracey nodded. "I was actually owled about this on fairly short notice, really. Mr. Biltmore's  assistant told me that the portrait was to hang in the hall of contributors at the Glenlivet. I was recently asked to become a patron there, to offer time and money. They like to make us feel like our contribution is worth it, so they commission artwork praising us. That's about all I know. I suppose we can make it as formal or as casual as you'd like. It's actually quite embarrassing, if you don't mind my saying so."

Dean chuckled.  "Ah, so it's corporate pandering, eh?  I guess that's as good a reason as any."  Smiling, he continued.  "And there's no reason to be embarrassed.  If I have my way, you'll be the envy of all the other portraits.  I think we'll go for something somewhat formal, though - considering my last two pieces were both semi-nudes, I'd guess that my idea of informal is a bit more... adventurous, than yours.  Though I have to admit that with your skin and figure, you would make for a captivating model for a nude, if you were so inclined."

Tracey controlled her blush well and brought her tea cup to her mouth before answering him in an amused tone. "The only portraits I've ever sat for, my mother was sitting in the room with me. A semi-nude had never occurred to me, though I'd rather not have 'all' of me hanging in the contributor's room at the stables. Do you have any examples of your work? Things to help me decide how naked I'll get for you?" She grinned at him. She was completely shocked that she was being so casual with someone so decidedly below her. Maybe Theo and all his crazy ideas about Muggles and Muggle-borns were rubbing off on her. He certainly seemed nice enough and was really trying to make her feel comfortable with this whole uncomfortable situation.

"I figured as much,"  Dean said with a laugh, "so we'll be going the semi-formal route - a nice dress, but something short of dress robes."  Reaching down, he rummaged a bit in his bag until he found his portfolio.  "Here are some examples of my work.  There are finished pieces, and a few sketches, to give you an idea of what you can expect."  Feeling a bit nervous, he handed it to Tracey.

She flipped through them and was amazed. "They're gorgeous. I would never have thought a painting like this could be beautiful, but it is." Tracey looked up and smiled, a wide reassuring grin. "I think this will work out just fine, Mr. Thomas -Dean. Please call me Tracey. If I'm going to let you paint me in the buff, you might as well call me by my first name as well. Though of course, a formal portrait for the stables would be appreciated too. Do you think you have the time for two?"

Hurriedly shaking off his shock at her acceptance of his joking, albeit very sincere offer, Dean smiled widely,  "I do indeed - and even if I didn't, for this opportunity I'd make time.  I think that both pieces will turn out beautifully"  Deciding to get down to business, he asked, "So, let's get down to brass tacks, shall we?  What outfit would you like to use for the Glenlivet piece?"  Dean looked at her consideringly.  "Perhaps something in black?"

"A black dress? That I have. In fact, I have many - but I did buy a new black dress recently that I've been dying to wear somewhere. It'll work. Where shall we set up then?"

"Preferably somewhere with good light, somewhere with a window.  Other than that, I'm not too particular.  I'll be painting in a neutral background, so the setting doesn't matter too much."  Dean rubbed his hands together.  "So, shall we get started?  If you'll show me the room, I'll get set up while you get dressed."

Tracey walked him into what had once been her Father's study. It was a vast room full of books and a large mahogany desk with papers that Theo had strewn about on top of it. The main feature was the large window that over looked the gardens. She excused herself with a smile and hurried into her closet to change. The black dress was still in the hanging bag that it had been sent in. She'd bought it for some dinner or another and was quite pleased now that she'd begged off.

After a few minutes, she walked into the den with a smile on her face and two inch heals on her feet. "Dean? This all right then?" she asked, flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

Dean turned and gave her an appraising look. Oh, my.  That will do... yes, that will do nicely, indeed, he thought.  "You look lovely, absolutely stunning."  He took her arm, and led her to one of the walls where the light was diffused a bit.  It lent warm, silky tones to her pale, flawless skin.  Stepping back a bit, he looked her over critically.  "There's just one small detail,"  he said as he returned to her side.  "Would you mind too terribly much if I made one little adjustment?"

She shook her head and bid him to continue. He was the artist after all.

Stepping behind her, Dean gathered her hair into his hands.  With a few deft twists, he pulled it up into a smart looking chignon.  After pinning it in place - I must be the only straight man on earth who carries hairpins and scrunchies, he thought - he produced a mirror and handed it to Tracey.  "I thought that this might look nice, especially considering the setting where this portrait will likely be displayed.  What do you think?"

"How on earth did you do that without a wand?" She turned to him with a grin. "A man of many talents, I see. It's brilliant, thank you. Do you help pick out curtains and shoes too?" She couldn't control her giggles. "If you're interested, I just fond a brilliant store for shoes... though, you'd probably already know about it, you're a.. Muggle-born, right?"

Dean chuckled.  "Yes, I am, though I suppose that depends on who you ask - my birth father was a wizard, though I never met him. He left my mum before I arrived on the scene.  My penchant for hairdressing stems from having mostly female models, and not having the patience to wait for them to take care of it themselves,"  he said before adding with a teasing smile, "And shopping at a muggle store?  How...un-Slytherin of you.  You know you're endangering all of my irrational house-based prejudices, don't you?"

"I can do you one better, my best friend, Pansy Parkinson, was the one who took me there. Earth shattering, I know. Perhaps you can paint her one day too. She'd love to hang another portrait of herself at the Manor." Tracey giggled. "So, are we ready then, Dean. Your fingers itching to bring out the real Tracey Davis? Well, the one that I'll choose to show to those people at Glenlivet anyway?"

"Would she, now?  Well, hopefully you'll put in a good word for me, once we're done," Dean said with a smile as he placed her hands on her hips.  "And we're not quite done yet."  He adopted a playful leer.  "First I get to be a bit fresh with you," he said as he placed one hand a bit lower on her hip, and the other on the small of her back.  "Shift your weight onto your right foot just a bit."  As she did, he guided her until Tracey's hip was slightly cocked.  "Very nice.  Now, just arch your back just a smidge."  Again, his hands guided her until she was positioned to his liking.  He stepped back a bit, and giving her one last appraising look, said, "Perfect.  Do you think you'll be comfortable staying like that for a bit?"  At her nod, he clapped his hands.  "Great!  Let's get started then, shall we?"

She hoped he couldn't tell she was nervous. Almost as soon as his back was turned she closed her eyes and thought of who she wanted the portrait to express. She wanted it cold, commanding, and powerful. People called her a snob and that was the face she was going to show them. He mask slid into place and when Dean turned around she looked nothing like the laughing woman he'd just been teasing.

Dean was a bit shocked when he saw the sudden change in Tracey.  The warm, charming woman whose company he'd been thoroughly enjoying had vanished, and in her place was the cool, haughty expression that he'd half expected to see when he'd taken this commission.  Normally, he'd have been annoyed that she'd put on a mask while he was painting her, but considering the nature of the portrait he could understand the need to show her public face.  "Very nice, Tracey - very... dignified," he said with a teasing smirk.

She didn't answer, but managed to think all the nasty things her mother and her friends had taught her to think about Mudbloods. She wanted this to look damn scary and showing even a little bit of what she was really like would not help with that. She managed to pour some annoyance and boredom into the look and she could tell Dean was quite pleased with it.

Dean watched as the shutters came down over Tracey's eyes and her expression chilled even further.  All that was left was a cold arrogance, with a touch of venom in her gaze.  She was actually a bit intimidating like that.  Dean had to admit that he was impressed - he'd likely have been extremely nervous right now, had he not known that it was an act.

"Now, I'm going to be using a few shortcuts on this first piece... well, to me they're shortcuts anyway."  At her puzzled look, Dean explained.  "I tend to do my work in the muggle manner except for the final charms.  For this, I'll be using my wand for for the most part, like most wizarding artists do."  Shrugging, he added, "It'll shave a lot of time off so we'll be able, with a bit of luck, to get both of them done before too late in the afternoon.  Sound good?"

She nodded coldly and tried not to be interested in what he was doing. It was hard, he was clearly good at what he was doing. His expression was one of concentration and passion. She could tell he loved what he was doing. She felt like she'd been standing there all morning when a house-elf finally interrupted them.

"What do you need, Baxter?" She said so coldly even the elf jumped.

"Was the mistress wanting lunch then? And her guest will join her?" She nodded. "Will the Master be coming home too, like he did last week when yous were not eating lunch at all?"

Tracey sighed and was immediately herself again. She was even blushing a bit. "No, Baxter. Master Nott will not be coming home. Please just bring the food in here. We're almost done here, aren't we Dean?" She looked to him questioningly.

With a final flourish, Dean said, "Actually, we're done!  Just let me cast the final charms, and you can come and have a look."  After about a minute of very intricate wand work, Dean sat back in his little folding chair.  "There!  One down and one to go, "he said with a satisfied smile.

Tracey found herself stepping out of her tall shoes and standing behind the portrait, leaning on the desk and rubbing her foot. "Do I actually look like that?" she asked in wonder. "Wow. I look a real bitch. Brilliant."

Dean doubled over, laughing.  "Actually, if I were being charitable I'd say that you look like a strong, proud and forceful woman," he said, once he was able to breath once more.  With a slightly evil smirk he continued, " but yeah, you look like an utter bitch."  Dean broke into laughter again.  "Still beautiful, though."

She grinned at him, "Nice, Thomas, Nice. Well, yeah have a sandwich and I'll go change, yeah? Or no. I guess I'll be in the buff, right? No changing needed then." She bit thoughtfully into her sandwich. "I hope those people at the stables aren't frightened by it. Pansy tells me all the time she can see through my bloody mask, but hell, why would you want to when I look like that. I'd run away. So, you'll keep a copy and then send this one to them then?"

"Actually," he said, "I'll be making one copy for myself, one for you and then deliver the original to Glenlivet... provided you want one, that is?"

"I would. Thank you, Dean. That would be really lovely." She turned and gave him a deeply genuine smile. It wasn't often that she met really 'nice' people, but Dean Thomas exuded something that made you want to be his friend. Interesting, she thought.

Interesting, Dean thought. Tracey was turning out to be a pleasant surprise.  He liked her - quite a lot, actually. "So, are we about ready for act two?" he asked when they'd both finished their sandwiches.

Her face flushed, but she had begun to grow excited for the second portrait. She was curious how he could possibly make her look as beautiful as he had those other witches, but it suddenly occurred to her that she trusted him to do so. He was still waiting for her answer, so she merely nodded and replied, "I'm ready if you are."

"All right then.  You should probably go upstairs and get out of that dress then,"  Dean said, "and perhaps you'd be more comfortable if you had a robe close at hand.  I'll get my 'real' supplies set up, and we can figure out how to pose you when you come back down."

She nodded and walked slowly up to her room. She was nervous, but excited. I wonder what Theo will think, she mused as she turned into their bathroom. She grabbed the green dressing gown that she had been teasing Theo with days before and grinned. He'd love the painting that Dean would do. He loved her. Dean had this amazing kind of talent that could grab the beauty out of anything - he'd done it before when she was thinking horrible and nasty things. She knew what she wanted him to capture in the second painting. It was easy to choose what to think about while he painted her: Theo. She walked back into the den calm and happy. This was going to be brilliant.

Dean heard the door open, and turned.  Damn, he thought as she walked in, wearing a sheer, knee-length silk robe that left little to the imagination.  "Tracey," he breathed.  "You look amazing, just...wow"  Shaking himself, he said, "So, are you ready?"

She nodded, giving him a winning smile. "As ready as I'll ever be. Where do you want me?"

"If that's not a loaded question, I don't know what is," Dean said with a grin.  "Seriously though, I'll need to actually see all of you to get a real idea of how to pose you."

Tracey started for a moment.  He'd have to see all of her?  Right.  Dropping the dressing gown was a must.  She walked toward the desk and saw the messy scribblings of that doctor who'd stolen her heart and she smiled.  Summoning up courage she hadn't realised she had she dramatically pulled the tie and shrugged out of the silk.  She lay the gown on the back of his chair and forced herself to smile, look up, and not cover herself.  "Like I said, where do you want me... posed, that is?" she said smoother than she was actually feeling.

Oh, my  She's just...damn.  The first thing that he notices was her absolutely flawless skin.  It fairly glowed in the soft light of the study.  "Lovely, simply lovely," he whispered.  "Turn for me, love."

She wasn't used to being this exposed and she found herself tuning parts of her brain off. It was cold so she was relieved that it was her backside he was asking to see. She could hear her mother's voice, "This is not the way for a proper young witch to behave, Tracey Maeve Davis!" and couldn't help but turn a but more enthusiastically. She always liked to piss off her mum, even if it wasn't really her mum.

As Tracey began to turn, he began to examine her critically.  Long and willowy.  Flat stomach.  Gorgeous legs, with a absolutely glorious bum.  Smallish breasts, but high and firm.  As she continued to turn,  Dean's breath caught as he saw her in profile.  "Yesss," he hissed.  Raising his voice, he said, "I've got it, Tracey.  This painting is going to be almost as beautiful as you... I absolutely guarantee it."  Moving quickly, he transfigured one of the chairs into a long couch.  "Could you lay down on the couch, on your stomach?"

She tried to laugh at his enthusiasm, but her calm veneer was cracking. On her stomach. She could do that. She arranged her self as best she could on the sofa and looked up to him. "Like this, Dean?"

Seeing the growing nervousness in her eyes, Dean said, "Relax, love.  I promise not to attack you, no matter how pleasant the thought may be."  He shook his head.  "Damn, but you're beautiful, Tracey." 

Moving to the couch, he gently moved her arms into position.  Just prop your head on your hand - like so - and look this way.  Oh, and before I forget..."  Pulling the pins from her hair, Dean quickly arranged it into a cascade of soft curls.  Seeing the tension that was painfully evident in set of her shoulders, he lifted her chin with his fingers.  "Please relax, Tracey. You're safe with me," Dean said as he pressed a light kiss to her forehead.  "I promise."

She relaxed. He must have some sort of power that could do that because she wasn't scared any more. She was calm. She actually felt safe and protected. Man, he was good.

Feeling the tension begin to seep from her, Dean gently stroked Tracey's hair.  "Thank you."  Suddenly he chuckled.  "And having said that, I'm going to get fresh with you again."  Moving down the couch a bit, Dean reached under her and lifted her hips a few inches off of the couch.  "Sorry about that," he murmured, "but it's the easiest way.  Just rest some of your weight on your knees, and try to hold this position for a little while.  I promise that I'll be able to let you relax in just a bit."  Satisfied with her pose, he hurried to his easel and began to sketch feverishly.

Willing away her blush, she smiled and then tried to think of all the things she wanted to express in her face. She remembered school, how things had been before they'd got complicated for all of them. How they all were carefree and joyful in their own way, down in the dungeons. Things had certainly changed since then. So many things. She'd changed. And no matter how much she hated change she knew it was inevitable. Even she could sense the things going on around them. And then she thought about Theodore and her mind shifted to the way he smiled at her in the gardens, or tucked her hair behind her ear. Yes, she was thinking about him. How perfect she wanted to be for him. She wasn't yet, but she knew she wanted to be. He'd told her he loved her and she wanted to be that person that he loved.

Dean had sketched the line of Tracey's body, and was about to tell her that she could relax, when he saw her face.  She was a million miles away.  It was fascinating to see the emotions flitting across her face, and he didn't want to interrupt.  She seemed to settle on a sort of bemused introspection, and he worked feverishly to try and capture it.

Once he'd done with his preliminary sketch, he quietly cleared his throat.  "You can relax now, sweetheart.  Just don't move around too much, and we ought to be fine."

Tracey let herself relax. He was interesting to watch and he worked with so much intensity that it was fascinating just to observe. She was able to sit still because she was watching him intently.

Well.  This is different.  It was interesting, being the one being watched for a change.  "All right. this is going to be a bit different," Dean explained as he loaded his palette.  "I'm going to be doing this the muggle way, so it's going to look less like a typical wizarding portrait."  Loading his brush, he began.  "That's not a bad thing, by the way.  It lends a certain... character to the picture, and the textures just make it more interesting.  You can discover new and different things every time you look at it, depending on the angle and distance you view it from."  Glancing up from his canvas, Dean smiled widely at Tracey.  "Sort of like people, I suppose.  Just look at today.  I found something, or should I say someone, new and interesting, just by coming a bit closer and really looking for a change."

She smiled at him. "You're right." And then she felt the guilt at the back of her mind. Slytherins weren't supposed to feel guilt at all. Trying to ignore it, she asked innocently, "It won't move, will it? The painting? Will it stand still like a Muggle one?" Before he could answer she looked down and then knew she couldn't just change the subject. Nope. She certainly wasn't meant to be a snake, this much was clear. "Dean, I um... I sort of had you investigated before you came here. I feel horrible about it now, but I just want you to know that I'm glad I looked closer too. If I hadn't I would have missed out on meeting you. That would have really been a shame." Her face had to be pink, but she felt better for telling the truth. What would Pansy say, I mean really?

Dean paused for a moment, considering.  "If I were forced to invite a stranger into my house, I'd probably check them out as well.  I can't hold that against you, now can I?"  He said with a grin.  "I'm just glad I passed muster - I'd have regretted not getting to know you."  He continued painting for a few minutes, before adding, "Oh, and I can charm this painting to move and react just as any other wizarding portrait would, if you like.  It's a nice effect, actually - the brush strokes and the textures shift as it moves.  I thought that I'd give you the option, since you might be embarrassed if it moved too much.  Personally, if you don't have a firm opinion one way or another, I'd go with the charms."

Imagining a nude version of herself writhing about on a sofa made her eyes grow wide. "Ummm... I think I'd go with the still, if you don't mind. I'd hate for anything to look... well, off putting it moved about too much when I'm well, not wearing anything. Not that I'm planning on hanging this in the grand gallery upstairs anyway. Where exactly does one hang a portrait of themselves starkers?"

Chuckling, Dean replied, "I can understand that, but just remember that it'll have a basic imprint of your personality - it won't knowingly do something embarrassing to you, or it.  There's no hurry to decide, though.  I can apply the charms any time in the next month or so, and they'll still take." 

"As far as where portraits like this are displayed,"  Dean said with a smile, "they often end up in bedchambers, or as gifts for loved ones.  Of course, this one should be dignified enough that you could put it somewhere a bit more public.  Dean considered for a moment.  "My personal preference would be to hang it in a gallery somewhere."  His smile was teasing, but it was obvious that he was serious.

Her jaw dropped in a giant grin. "I will never be naked in an art gallery... unless of course it's the real me and I am there on purpose or something. Not that I would. Oh, honestly. You're going to think me a great pervert. Paint, will you?" She closed her eyes and shook her head in embarrassed amusement.

Dean chucked.  "As the lady wishes," he said, sketching a mocking little half-bow from his chair.

They fell into a companionable silence as Dean continued working furiously.  About an hour later, Dean was shocked to find that he was nearly done.  How am I doing this?  he thought.  This is the second time in as many weeks that I've worked this fast.  Shrugging, he smiled.  "Inspiration working it's magic, I suppose," Dean murmured with a grin.

Tracey saw him smile and hoped he was happy with his work. As much as she loved the other painting, she was nervous and curious and excited about this one even more. "Are we nearing the end then, Dean? Almost done?"

Dean looked up and smiled.  "Indeed we are.  Just a few more minutes, and you'll be able to grab that robe you've been eyeing for the past half hour."  True to his word, just minutes later he stood up and gave his work a last once-over.  "Aaand...I think we're finally done!"  Casting a quick drying charm, he motioned to Tracey. 

With a proud grin, he said, "Come on over, love, and tell me what you think!"


She grinned and held out her hand to the robe across the room. Quite pleased with her wandless magic, she stood and stepped into it and tied it loosely around her before walking behind him. Her breath caught and she stood there open mouthed. It was her... only it wasn't. "Dean, it's beautiful. How did you do that? Those Muggle things made me look like that?" Maybe they have do a bit of magic themselves, she mused with a smile. She couldn't take her eyes off of the painting and so she didn't notice that they had company until a little squeak came out of the far side of the room.

Looking surly, Baxter appeared to be doing a dance somewhat like trying slam his fingers in the drawer while glowering at the artist. Tracey turned to him and rolled her eyes. "What is it, Baxter?"

He looked fit to be tied. "The mistress isn't to be looking like that when the Master's not here. What would the big missus say?" He then pointed a shriveled finger toward Dean and a pure look of hatred crossed his face before it was replaced with horror that he would have to punish himself again. "Who's this one to be making the mistress look like- like a-"

"Do you not like it then, Baxter?" Tracey's slow smile wickedly spread across her face. "I was thinking of hanging it in the front entry. Don't you think it would work well on top of the Davis coat of arms?"

The little elf let out a small, "Meep" before backing up, shaking his head as he went.

Tracey turned to Dean and smirked at him, without malice or condemnation, but full of a whole hell of a lot of amusement. "I'm sorry about that. He's usually much better behaved. Though, if I think about it, I have been having a bit of a revolt among the help. They all like Theo better than they do me. Usually it's quite amusing, but there are times, like now." She shook her hair with her hand. "Anyway, I'm so pleased with the painting. It's so gorgeous, I can hardly believe it's me... but those bony shoulders look like mine, so it must be."

Dean smiled.  "I am, as well.  I think I almost managed to do you justice."  His expression became earnest.  "Thank you allowing me the opportunity to do this, Tracey.  Seriously.  This is what I love to do - finding beauty in the most unexpected places.  And sometimes friends, as well."  His smile returning, he asked, "Would it be presumptuous of me to ask for a hug before I go?"

"You weren't expecting to find beauty here? That amuses me to no end" She laughed and touched his shoulder softly. "Well, to be honest, I wasn't expecting to find someone as charming as you either. I am learning every day that things I once thought I knew are not quite the way things actually are. Thank you for showing me that again." Tracey pulled her arms around his back and held him tightly. Her head didn't even come near his shoulder, but it was nice.

Dean smiled as he returned her embrace.  "Glad I could be of service," he murmured as he leant down and kissed the top of her head.  Releasing her, Dean said, "So, why don't you go and get dressed while I pack my things and set the room back to rights?"

She smiled at him and nodded. "Thank you for coming today, Dean. Shall I let Baxter see you out?" She grinned at him cheekily before walking toward the door. "No... I couldn't do that to you, even when you were a Gryffindor. Peakie? Show Mr. Thomas out when he's ready," she directed a near by elf. "I hope we see each other again soon." And then she was gone and he was left to watch her walk away.



(Summary: Dean sorts out a commission with Tracey, who turns out not to be as bad as he thought.)