First-Year,
Valentine's Artist

Phoebe managed to get through the first month with only having minor visions, that she could easily ignore. However, as the romantic holiday of Valentine's day neared she had seen too many visions of relationships blooming in every direction, even her cousin Ethan had a date with Louisa.

She smiled 'they seemed to have gotten over their awkward kiss,' she thought. He often walked through the halls holding her hand. She creased her brows when she spotted Oliver, she remember the first time she met him, he was the one who loved Louisa, not Ethan. As she turned around to look at them, she noted that Oliver was putting on a fake smile for Ethan, he really didn't seem to like her very much.

"Oh, I'm sorry," as she bumped into someone

"You bump into people a lot," Cedric commented, she chuckled

"I guess I do," she noticed the flower he had in his hand, "someone gave you a flower?"

"Yeah, Laura's giving them out to everyone, even the Slytherin though they practically stomped on in front of her, except a couple of boys,"

"She doesn't want any to feel left out," she said, he joined her on her travels,

"What do you think of Valentine's day?" he asked

"I think it's a load of rubbish, why do romantic things on February 14th, when you can do them any time of the year, it makes the gesture less special,"

"Still special though,"

"Yeah, but take my dad, for example, he'll come home with roses, simply because he knows mum will like them, or he'll cook her dinner out of the blue and they'll have dinner together just the two of them, the only thing they celebrate is their anniversary," he chuckled

"Your dad sounds like a hopeless romantic," she laughed as they made their way towards the lake.

The spring had come early, covering the ground in fresh green grass she sat down by a tree Cedric laid on the floor next to her. She opened her bag, digging through her extension charm looking for a specific book, she sighed as she couldn't find the book she was looking for.

"Can you hold these for me?" she asked handing him a box of pencils "I know it in here somewhere, aha found it," pulling an art book out of her bag. "Do you mind if I draw you?"

"No go ahead," he held his head still, she gentle moved his head to the side, "is my side profile better?" she chuckled,

"The lighting hits you better," he remained quiet while she drew the basic structure of his face, when she hardly looked up at him he spoke.

"Do you like art?"

"Yes, I love art," she smiled, "Would you believe I live in London, and have never been to the National Gallery,"

"Why not?"

"My hobby isn't important, not when there's only me that likes it, everyone would much rather go to a Quidditch or shopping than walk around a gallery"

"If you find joy in art wouldn't your parents want to take you?"

"I'm not like my siblings, they're all I want I want I want, I'm not like, I don't ask for anything off my parents, I think they would take me if I asked,"

"Then why don't you,"

"It would be boring for them,"

"I guess but, I know if it was my dad, even if he didn't like it, he'd take me because I love it," he said, she smiled at him,

"I'm almost done,"

"Can I see?" leaning over to look she held the book against her chest

"Wait, I said I'm almost done," she said, he leaned back on the grass she smiled, happy with her work. "Here," she handed him the book, biting her lip anxious to see his reaction.

"It's great, like I'm looking in a mirror,"

"That's too nice,"

"No, I'm serious, you're really good, maybe you can hold your own art exhibitions one day, can I have a look at your other drawings," she nodded

He flipped through her book she captured moments, in her art, one of them was her house-elf, and another were two young boys, who he assumed must have been her brothers. He smiled at a drawing of two dogs, one black and one white, the white one nuzzled its face on the black one.

"Do you paint as well?" he asked

"Sometimes though I prefer to draw in my book cause I can take it anywhere with me, all I need is a couple of pencils. Whereas if I paint I'd need my easel, my palette and all my paints,"

"Fair enough, I would like to see them one day,"

She smiled at him, no one was ever interested in her art, her mother, and Grammy would always encourage her. Though they seemed to prefer reading as their hobby, her father was supportive sure, but he would much rather occupy his time with a physical sport, like Quidditch.

Anything she did draw she would always duplicate it, keeping the original one for herself while gifting the other to the person who was her muse for that piece. In this case, her muse was Cedric, he knew his mother would love the drawing, she'd most likely frame it.

"If you insist on giving it to me, then I'll need your autograph-

"I'm a celebrity,"

"No, but I'm a fan of your work," she smiled, writing her signature on the corner of the drawing.