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Author: Bistyboo1974 Story: Through His Mother's Eyes Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: WIP Reviews: 7 Words: 45,208
Ginny didn't want to fully admit it, but lately the role of housewife and stay-at-home mum was making her feel somewhat restive. It had been a gorgeous May afternoon, and she and four-year-old James had spent the better part of it out-of-doors - until the rain moved in, that is. Then it was back inside to face the domestic music. Ginny trudged into the kitchen and helped James out of his sodden trainers. She whipped up a snack for her son, then set off to mop up the muck they had both tracked in. "Accio dishrag! " she called, summoning a red-and-white checked cloth out of a kitchen drawer. The cloth whizzed across the kitchen and into her outstretched hand. As she slowly wiped up the mess, her mind began to wander... For the past few months, Ginny had secretly been harboring a desire to return to what she did before becoming a mother - painting. She hadn't picked up a paintbrush since James' birth, save the one time she had painted a mural on his bedroom wall when he was two years old, but even then she used a template she'd found in the Witch Weekly home-makeover edition, plus she used a charmed technique to speed up the process, so it really didn't count. She'd been too busy at the time to consider applying any of her own personal ingenuity to the painting. But before James came along, Ginny had painted quite a bit. She had been commissioned by her very own brothers to design original promotions advertising many of their unique products for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. They gave her free creative reign over the designs, trusting her uncanny ability to capture the spirit of whichever joke shop gem she was promoting with her painting. She had never been nominated for any sort of awards for her ads, but the sales of Canary Creams tripled the week after her colorful advert was seen in the Sunday trade section of the Daily Prophet, and her depiction of the twins' Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs made a permanent transition to the product's packaging after being seen on a billboard in Diagon Alley for a fair few months. Ginny had caught the creative bug early on in life, but hid the fact that she loved to draw and paint for some time. Only occasionally would she show hints by offering various individuals her handcrafted cards (one she gave Harry her second year stood out in her mind, probably because she had also charmed it to sing quite shrilly). But it wasn't until the brief spell she spent as Dean Thomas' girlfriend at the beginning of her fifth year that she really began to show anyone her talent. Hogwarts had held a contest for the students to design a banner promoting school unity. Each house was allowed one submission for the challenge, and Ginny submitted a banner to be considered by the Gryffindors. She had listened to so many hours of Dean mulling over ideas for the contest that she couldn't avoid coming up with a few of her own. Her housemates ended up choosing her banner over Dean's (although his was quite good too) and their relationship fizzled out shortly thereafter, maybe because he didn't quite know what to make of having such an artistic competitor as a girlfriend, but more likely because one of his dorm-mates had become quite visibly (though at the time openly denying it) smitten with her. At any rate, her knack for art had burgeoned, and she found that there was no turning back. By the time she was in her sixth year at Hogwarts she had designed her first advertisement for her brothers (a blood-chilling painting promoting Nosebleed Nougats for the Halloween edition of The Quibbler - Luna Lovegood's father ran the ad on the house) and just two years after she left school, she was actually being courted by some of the establishments in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley for her work - most notably, Zonko's, whom she'd turned down flat. "Finished, Mummy," said James. He was standing over her with a crumb-laden dish, staring in wonder at his mother, who was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor with a muck-covered dishrag in her lap. Ginny had been totally immersed in her thoughts and had neglected to notice the fact that James had finished his snack. "Oh, sweetheart...put your plate in the sink. Are you thirsty? Would you like some pumpkin juice?" Ginny suddenly had a tremendously guilty feeling. She looked at her son with shame all over her face; James merely shrugged. "Okay," James answered and he trotted back over to his place at the table while Ginny fetched him his favorite vivid-orange tumbler - the one his Uncle Ron bought for him at a Chudley Cannons match last fall. It had speeding cannonballs all over it. Ginny dispensed a serving of juice into James' Cannons tumbler. As he sipped, Ginny found her thoughts trailing off yet again... She began to wonder if Fred and George were considering updating any of their advertisements any time soon. Lately, they had been using some flashy photographer to capture young, frolicsome witches and wizards partaking in joys wrought from the use of products that could be found only at 93 Diagon Alley. The twins' last catalog featured a photo collage of eleven-to-seventeen-year olds dressed in garish Muggle-style clothing; some were shown vomiting, owing to the fact hat they had ingested Puking Pastilles; others were depicted minus their heads as a result of wearing Headless Hats; and still others were portrayed shooting off a variety of fireworks that were colliding with each other in the sky, showering them with colors even more flamboyant than the ones they were wearing. In Ginny's opinion, it was an unabashed disaster. She supposed it did appeal to their target audience, however she found herself imagining other ways she could appeal to them, in a less repulsive sort of way. *** The next day, while she was walking James to his three-day-a-week class at Madam Scholastica's Day Nursery, Ginny found herself pondering how she'd broach the subject of returning to work with her husband. She honestly didn't think she'd have any trouble convincing Harry that going back to work was a good idea; it was more like trying to persuade him to help her figure out how they could make the plan succeed. When she worked on commissions for her brothers before, her studio was located in the room James was currently occupying. She reckoned it was conceivable that they could convert the spare bedroom into a studio, but that would leave them without a place for guests to sleep. The sunroom was an option, but James liked to play out there - turning it into an art room would make it an off-limits zone for him (Ginny imagined a paint-splattered rug and many-colored handprints adorning the sunroom windows). On the walk back from Madam Scholastica's, Ginny thought back to the batch of letters she'd received when she was only eighteen-years-old. The ones from Zonko's and Gambol and Japes had practically pleaded with her to do commissions for them, too. She'd promptly written back to them, expressing her regrets and telling them in no uncertain terms that she worked exclusively for Fred and George. But her requests didn't stop with the joke shop vendors - a witch from the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley had written a fairly enticing letter that almost convinced her to change her exclusive status to semi-exclusive. It read: Dear Miss Ginevra Weasley, I recently had the great pleasure of viewing the dramatic painting you did for the fine merchants at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. You know, the one that was featured in the highly underrated, yet deeply profound periodical, The Quibbler. The way your brush strokes conveyed the distress that poor bloke was feeling stuck at his mother-in-law's Halloween feast. And when he swallowed that sweet - what was it called again, a Bloody-Something-Or-Other? - he gushed like he'd been skewered with something sharp right up his nostrils! At any rate, it was a modern-day classic. I'll be so bold even to say it matches up to that timeless gem Flourish and Blotts put out about thirty years ago. You know the one, don't you? The one with the troll, and the wizard, who says, "The quill is mightier than the club!" In any case, I could praise your work until the Hippogriffs came home, but I feel doing so would keep you from your brushes, palettes and enchanted canvases, and I realize that a prima donna of the paintbrush like yourself mustn't be kept from her art for too long! So before I digress further, I'd like to try to sway you into painting something for my own humble establishment. You may have heard of it - Magical Menagerie, which is located in London's premiere shopping district, Diagon Alley, and which offers unlimited varieties of magical creatures fitting the tastes of every consumer, Galleon-back guarantee! I could match whatever sum the brothers Weasley are paying you, plus throw in a discount on your next purchase Please reply as soon as possible! Sincerely and with extreme admiration, Madam Zoe Ziegler, Shop Owner Ginny's head had practically swollen to Percy-like proportions after reading Madam Ziegler's gushing tribute to her artwork, but she promptly had her ego punctured when George pointed out that the letter reeked of groveling and arse-kissing. "It's not that you're not good, little sis," George had told her after being deeply amused by the letter. "It's just...'prima donna of the paintbrush?' Could she do any more kowtowing? Oh, wait...there was also when she said the Nosebleed Nougat ad was a 'modern-day classic!' Can't forget that!" Ginny had considered being offended by George's comments, but she re-read the letter and ended up convincing herself that what he said was absolutely true. After all, Madam Ziegler did refer to The Quibbler as a "deeply profound periodical." There was just something off about that statement in and of itself. When Ginny reached the house, she shirked off the domestic responsibilities she normally took care of while James spent time with his playgroup. It's not as if Doxies will start nesting in one afternoon, Ginny thought as she rifled through the closet in the hall. She pulled out a black satchel, which was bulging to capacity. She unzipped the silver zipper and peered in - countless tubes of paint filled the bag; some were squeezed nearly dry and others looked brand-new. "Wow," breathed Ginny. "You lot haven't seen the light of day in years!" She cradled the bag as if it were a treasure chest. Then she got a brilliant idea. *** When James arrived back home following his afternoon at Madam Scholastica's, he found that his mother had set up at temporary art studio in the sunroom. An easel much like the ones his teacher had in her classroom was facing the large windows that opened up into the back garden. The grand windows allowed loads of sunlight to stream in. "Would you mind if Mummy draws a picture of you, James?" asked Ginny as she observed her son inspecting the art supplies that were set up in his usual play area. "Of me?" asked James. A smile was creeping across his mouth. "I like to draw pictures, too, Mummy...I didn't ever know you liked to draw pictures. D'you wanna see a picture I drew today, during arts and crafts time at school?" "Of course," said Ginny. She was always thrilled to see the masterpieces her son would bring home, and she always enthusiastically put a semi-permanent sticking charm on them in order to display them on a special wall in the kitchen - the wall she and Harry had affectionately dubbed as James' Gallery. James pulled out a sheet of manila parchment from his backpack and proudly showed his mum his work of art. Ginny beamed as she looked at the drawing on the parchment - a depiction of a father and son riding broomsticks together in the bright-blue sky, with fluffy white clouds beneath them. The expressions captured on their faces were exquisite, in Ginny's opinion - the dad wore an ear-to-ear grin while the son's mouth was open, as if whooping in excitement. Ginny tapped the parchment with her wand and the scene played out; Ginny giggled. "I love when your teacher allows you to used the enchanted crayons...this is splendid!" James grinned. "Now draw me, Mummy...please!" "Certainly," said Ginny, setting James' drawing aside and picking up a drawing quill. She began to lightly sketch outlines onto the heavy sheet of parchment that hung from her easel, capturing with each movement of the quill her son's distinct features. She sketched the shape of his eyes and began to contemplate which shade of blue she'd mix for his eye color later on. She smiled as she illustrated his cheerful expression, and waved her wand over her first sketch of his hair to make it disappear, not being satisfied with the degree of untidiness she'd given it. When, at last, the rough sketch was complete, she called James to come around the easel and take a peek. For a few seconds, he merely stared at it unblinkingly, then he spoke. "Wow...that looks loads like me," said James, clearly in awe. "'Cept..." "Except what, dear?" asked Ginny curiously. "'Cept I have more colors on me than that...maybe you can use some of my crayons if you want, to add colors." Ginny smiled broadly. "Oh, don't worry...I'll add colors in just a bit, only I thought I'd use paints instead of crayons." She gestured to the black satchel she'd rescued from the closet earlier. James gave her an approving look, and she set off to work. *** By the time Harry had Apparated home from work, Ginny's portrait of James was nearly complete; Ginny was merely adding some last-minute touches to define some of James' skin tones, and to emphasize where the sunlight had highlighted his hair. As she dabbed a bit more paint onto her brush, she heard James' eager voice announcing to Harry, "Did you know that Mummy is an amazing drawer?" "A what?" answered Harry. "A drawer!" answered James, sounding a bit exasperated. "And a painter...she can paint really amazing too!" Ginny heard a sound that conveyed her husband finally comprehended James' four-year-old phraseology. "Wanna see, Dad? Wanna see what Mummy is painting? Betcha can't guess!" he said, and he walked into the darkening sunroom pointing at himself. Ginny lit a lamp with her wand, laughed out loud, and said, "Oh, you'll never guess, Harry." James was practically tap-dancing on the spot. "Hmm," said Harry in mock-contemplation. "I dunno...has your mother been painting pictures of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?" Ginny giggled. James looked at his father as if he were a nutter. "Dad," he said, intoning that his father please be serious. "Okay...not Crumple-Horned Snorkacks...perhaps a portrait of her one, true love?" Harry said with a proud grin. "Who'll that be, then?" asked Ginny, teasingly. "Kirley McCormack, lead guitarist for The Weird Sisters?" Harry furrowed his brow at her and answered back, "No...that'd be Barny, the Ballycastle Bats' mascot!" "I'll have you know, Barny's quite adorable, Mr. Potter!" said Ginny, in her own defense. But James was having no more of his parents' unbearable squabbling. "Mummy painted a picture of me, Dad! Look...look! It's amazing!" "So I've heard," replied Harry, who was adjusting his glasses as he positioned himself to look at the portrait. "Wow," Harry breathed as he looked at the easel. After a moment or two, he said, "Amazing!" "Told you!" James said, with pride. *** After James had been tucked into bed, read to from Quidditch Through the Ages, and finally drifted off to sleep, Ginny snuggled with Harry on the sofa. "What inspired you to get your paints out again?" asked Harry as he stroked back some wisps of Ginny's hair. "To be honest, I wasn't certain you even still had them." Ginny shrugged. "I don't know what exactly brought on the urge," she answered. "I can't remember if there was something in particular that made me want to paint again, but the feeling just kept getting stronger, until it was almost all I'd think about during the day. I'd be doing something completely simple, like making a snack for James, and I'd catch myself remembering when I did stuff for Fred and George." "You really enjoyed painting, and not just for business...I remember that portrait you did of your parents." Ginny nodded. That particular painting hung in the Burrow, above the mantelpiece in her parents' living room. She'd given it to them as an anniversary present the first year she and Harry had been married. It was one of the last personal things she'd worked on, though - the last being a portrait of Ron. She'd given that to Hermione and made her promise not to throw kitchen utensils at it when they rowed. "I've been thinking I'd really like to take it up again," Ginny commented. "And maybe do a little of both - for pleasure and for profit." Harry continued to stroke her hair. "I'm not sure Fred and George are even interested, mind you," she continued, "but even if they aren't, I'm sure I could do some work for someone else..." "Magical Menagerie, perhaps?" said Harry, with a chuckle. Ginny sniffed. "Perhaps...or someone. Maybe not even in advertising, either. Maybe I could paint portraits...I mean, what I could charge for sitting fees alone would more than cover an addition..." "An addition?" Harry inquired. "To the house," Ginny said quietly. Harry stopped stroking her hair, and for a split second, Ginny thought he might be tempted to pull it in frustration. But she took his pause for frustration, when in reality it had been a contemplative pause. "What'll we be adding, then? It seems as though the sunroom makes a decent studio." "But James plays out there...and can't you just see it now, I'll have Gobstones floating around my paint palettes! Not to mention when he decides to try out a few techniques on the walls, and Merlin help him if he tries to give your Firebolt a coat of..." "Okay, I see your point," said Harry nervously. "How about adding a playroom on for James, and keeping the sunroom as a studio for you? You can't beat the light you get in there...that was one of your chief complaints about the room you were in before, wasn't it? Poor lighting?" "It was," agreed Ginny. "So, is it safe to say you're on-board with this little venture?" "It's safe to say that," said Harry. He craned his neck and gave Ginny a soft kiss on her cheek. "You owl Fred and George in the morning, and I'll see about hiring a construction team for the new room." *** Author's Note: Thanks to everyone for the positive reviews. :-) I love the changes to PhoenixSong that make giving and receiving reviews a much easier process. The wizards behind the transformation to the site are to be commended! And just a "coming attraction" for further updates to the story - Aggiebell mentioned wanting to read a chapter about James during his "terrible twos," and you may have noticed that I sort of glossed over a couple years with chapter four (one minute he's a toddler, then next he's in preschool). Rest assured that in the near future we'll get to see a flashback sequence to that "terrible two" period - think about the bedroom makeover mentioned in this chapter. ;-) Hopefully, it'll be good for a few laughs!
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