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Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
6
Views:
10,524
Reviews:
67
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter. It all belongs to JKR. I make no money from the writing of this story.
Odalisque
Chapter Two: Odalisque
“Come again?”
Hermione let out a sigh as a light pink blush colored her cheeks. “He offered the museum an enormous amount of money that would help us get out of debt and be well-established for years to come in return for a significant amount of control of the museum’s further endeavors and-“
“I don’t care about all of that,” Ginny interrupted, “Repeat the part about the kiss again.”
Hermione put her hands on her hips, a small huff escaping her mouth as she pursed her lips, “There really isn’t more to that part except the demand of a kiss in return for money. I’m not some common whore, you know,” she said angrily, “I can’t believe he had the audacity to even suggest that!”
“Did you slap him?”
The blush deepened against Hermione’s skin. What was she supposed to say? That instead of defending her honor she simply sat there like an idiot and sniffed Draco Malfoy? She looked down and tried her best not to fidget, “I didn’t have a chance to say anything before he left.”
Ginny raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, “So, are you going to accept?”
“A-Absolutely not!” Hermione sputtered before she bit her lip, “Although it is quite a tempting offer.”
Ginny smirked and gave her a knowing look.
“Not the part about the kiss! I’m talking about the money,” she sighed wistfully, “If the museum had an endowment that large, we could actually hold larger special exhibitions, buy more valuable and rare pieces, and perhaps even borrow some works from muggle institutions. I’ve been dying to do an exhibition focusing on the work of Turner and comparing his muggle and magical works.”
Ginny nodded encouragingly, “I’m sure that would be a big hit. Even the Ministry would appreciate that. They’re always trying to toot their own horn and push forth the ‘British is better’ agenda.” She rolled her eyes, “Xenophobic bastards.”
“I can’t accept though,” she almost sounded sad yet her tone was resolute, “It would be immoral, improper, and probably highly illegal.”
“Not necessarily,” Ginny said carefully, “There’s no law against donations, in fact, it’s encouraged. I’m sure it wouldn’t sit well with the board that he’s willing to bail the museum out in this fashion but they can shove it.” She sipped her tea quietly watching Hermione with curious eyes.
“What about the being my superior thing and holding his own exhibition without approval? I’m positive the board would never approve that.”
“Well, that’s not really your responsibility, is it? You were elected into your position and it’s really not in your power to decide who becomes your superior—it’s the board’s. I think it’s out of your hands.” Ginny seemed quite pleased with herself as she said triumphantly, “Tell him that you agree to his terms but that he’s responsible for fulfilling the other terms he specifies in his contract. If he wants to hold his own exhibitions without the necessity of the board’s approval and become your superior, then he needs to get it himself. It’s not like you can just wave your wand and make it all happen. It’s not in your power.”
“Ginny, that’s brilliant,” Hermione was nearly bouncing with glee, “The board will never agree to that. I’ll ask him to sign an agreement that dictates that he will donate the money and that as director, I agree to his stipulations but the approval of the board is something he will have to get himself. He’ll have to sign it. His stupid Malfoy pride wouldn’t dare let him do otherwise. The museum will get the money and Malfoy will be out of my hair for a good long while. The board will not appreciate being threatened in this matter. He’ll lose all the influence that he had.” She laughed lightly, “I almost feel bad for him. Almost.”
Ginny snorted, “You shouldn’t. That pompous arse. He just wanted to put you in an awkward position and test you. If he really wanted to do good for the museum, he would’ve just donated the money without any demands whatsoever. He is and forever will be a selfish bastard that is simply too good-looking. It’s unfair.”
Even Hermione couldn’t deny the truth in her words. She exhaled and sat back in the fluffy chair, a pleasant smile gracing her lips.
“So what do you plan to about the kiss thing?”
“I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and do it. I mean, considering the circumstances, 14 million galleons to save a museum that I’ve dedicated my entire life and career to for a simple kiss that will last a mere second should be tolerable.”
“Tolerable?” Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, Hermione, you aren’t sexless and blind. The man is bloody gorgeous and he’s willing to donate a ridiculous amount of money that most wizards don’t even dare of dreaming they would ever possess and all for a kiss from you. I would give him a kiss and then some,” she waggled her eyebrows before laughing at Hermione’s shocked face.
“Shouldn’t I be offended that he’s essentially treating me as something to be purchased and then thrown away?”
“Each to their own, I say, but if I were you, I would feel flattered.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, deciding it would be best to let the subject drop. Her mind couldn’t help but wander to the terms of his offer. It seemed that was all that she had been doing this week – thinking about Malfoy and his blasted offer. Today was the last day. She could no longer put it off anymore. She would have to go to him tonight and give him her final decision. Though she had sounded fairly confident and reassured when talking with Ginny, her mind was in absolute turmoil. She was being ridiculous and stupid. She knew that Ginny was right. The board would never agree to Malfoy’s terms and because she would make him sign the contract beforehand, his donation did not depend upon if the board approves his ridiculous demand to effectively gain full control and access to the museum, it was essentially 14 million galleons for one insignificant kiss.
It really shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did but she couldn’t help it. She had strong morals and there were certain things that she just didn’t do and that included kissing Draco Malfoy! He never did specify what type of kiss he wanted. It could just be a peck on the cheek for all she knew.
That could be manageable. Hermione let out a sigh. Who was she kidding? It was Malfoy and that tricky, slippery little bastard would milk it for all it was worth and probably take advantage of her. He wasn’t the king of Slytherin for nothing.
Hermione couldn’t deny Ginny’s words, however. A small part of her—a part that she kept hidden away in the back recesses of her mind and absolutely refused to ever let surface—had always wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Ginny was right. She wasn’t blind nor was she sexless and yes, perhaps a few times during her years at Hogwarts, she might’ve possibly had a fantasy or two about Malfoy. It wasn’t as if she ever expected it to come to anything. It never hurt to look and it certainly wasn’t her fault that he was just so damned good to look at.
It was his fault really. Bloody handsome bastard.
She was in control of herself though. She might’ve been attracted to him at some point in her life but her work and the museum came first. She refused to let him get the best of her. He had quite the reputation of being a womanizer during his Hogwarts years, breaking hearts left and right. Hermione had many a memory where she was patrolling and would catch him with his hands up a random girl’s skirt. It was a different girl each time and the shock and traumatic effect never faded. He would always smirk at her, sometimes even going so far as winking but she would merely threaten him, knowing it would come to nothing, before she stomped off in the opposite direction. She never did wonder why it was always her that caught Malfoy in these compromising positions and why he chose to carelessly flirt with her though he had another willing girl in his arms. After he graduated, Draco Malfoy had all but faded off into the background. Rarely, if ever, did he make the headlines of the Daily Prophet and usually, it was for donating some ridiculous sum of money to his new favorite philanthropic pursuit or attending yet another extravagant and highly unnecessary Ministry gala. Hermione frowned, trying her best to remember if she had ever read anything regarding his romantic pursuits.
It seemed he was content on living a more low-key lifestyle as he grew older. Hermione was sure that he had his share of consorts post-Hogwarts. He probably just paid off the folks at the Daily Prophet to keep their mouths shut. It wouldn’t surprise her.
Draco Malfoy was and would always be a heartless jerk that simply toyed with emotions. That was exactly what she was to him, Hermione decided. A plaything to amuse him for a few weeks before he tired of her and then threw her to the side.
She would refuse to let him get the best of her. After all, it wasn’t just her own pride and reputation on the line – it was her entire career and life. She would not let him destroy the museum.
-*-
Hermione felt dirty. She held the business card between her forefinger and thumb, flipping it over between her fingers, her brown eyes scrutinizing it before she let out a heavy sigh. Why did she have to whisper his name in order to activate it?
Such an action was too intimate and sexual for her liking. She knew she was just being silly but she would be more comfortable with a spell. She expelled some air through her lips before she said loudly and clearly, “Malfoy.”
Nothing.
Hermione squinted at the card. Was it broken or something?
Whisper my name. That was what he had said. Malfoy had officially become the most irritating git on the face of the planet. Hermione repeated his name but this time in a soft whisper.
Nothing. Again.
Hermione almost threw the card down in frustration but instead she made a few disgruntled noises. What was she missing now? She was saying his name. It suddenly struck her. Perhaps, the portkey would only activate with his full name. Hermione glared at the indiscriminate card, feeling as if it was taunting her. He would do this. She and Malfoy were not on first-name terms. That meant they were familiar or that they were friends. They were neither and Hermione had intended to keep it that way.
It felt dirty, bizarre, and strange to whisper his full name into a card. It was just wrong. It was too intimate.
She let out another sigh and shook out her arms, readying herself, “Draco-“
Before she could even finish his name, the portkey activated and she felt the familiar tugging in her stomach. Moments later, she was in what she assumed to be Draco’s study in Malfoy manor.
“I’ve been expecting you.”
Hermione whipped around, a few strands of her hair hung messily around her, covering a part of her face.
“You certainly took your time to make the decision.”
“I wanted to make an informed decision,” Hermione retorted as she watched him carefully. He was dressed in a dark green button-down shirt, the top few buttons unbuttoned so she could see the pale skin of his chest underneath, and black silk pajama pants. Was it really that late? Her eyes glanced out the window and she could see the moon high in the sky.
“And what decision have you come to?”
“Yes.”
If he was shocked by her choice, he certainly hid it well. He simply nodded and took a sip of the amber drink that he held in his hands.
“With certain conditions, however,” Hermione continued. “As director, I agree to allowing you full control of running one special exhibition a year without any interference on my part as well as you becoming my superior. However, the final decision does not rest in my hands. It is something that the Board of Trustees must agree upon and you know as well as I do that I cannot force them to agree to anything they don’t want to. As such, I will fulfill my end of the agreement. Please sign this contract,” she handed a piece of parchment to him, “It says that you agree to donate the previously mentioned sum of 14 million galleons total regardless of the final decision of the board.”
His grey eyes scanned quickly across the parchment before the tossed it onto his desk lazily, “And what of the kiss?”
Hermione stiffened, “It was a part of our original agreement so I will acquiesce.”
Draco raised an eyebrow, taking a look at the parchment once again. Hermione stood in front of his desk awkwardly as he read in silence. After what seemed like forever, he finally spoke once again, “I will agree to your terms, Granger. I’ll even agree to donate the money even if the board denies my demands.”
Hermione’s heart soared and she couldn’t contain the smile that burst onto her face.
“But, I have one additional stipulation to add.”
Her heart dropped and immediately, a frown replaced the smile, “What exactly?”
“I want you to pose for me.”
“Excuse me?”
“I want to paint you, Granger.”
Hermione’s brow furrowed, “As in a portrait?”
“Of sorts,” Draco smirked before he clasped his hands together. “I want to paint you as an odalisque.”
Hermione blinked a few times, her mouth dropped open as she tried her best to wrap her mind around his request, “You want to paint me as an odalisque?”
“You seem to enjoy repeating my words.”
“Are you mad? I will not pose nude for you, Malfoy!” she seethed, the blood returning to her brain once again at his words. “You have some nerve to-“
“It’s purely for artistic purposes, Granger. I have no wish to seduce you, if that is what you are implying.”
“I don’t know what I’m implying, Malfoy. First, you offer 14 million galleons for a kiss and now you’re asking me to pose nude for you.”
“I offered 14 million galleons to save a museum that I have enjoyed and frequented ever since I was a child. The kiss is simply an added bonus. I am asking you to pose as an odalisque, an artistic subject that many influential painters have embraced before. Ingres, for example.”
“Ingres was an absolute cur. He abandoned his fiancée without a word while he fled to Rome, scared and unable to handle the criticisms he received for his artwork,” Hermione said in annoyance, her eyes stormy and hard.
“I wasn’t commenting on his character, Granger, merely his artistic talent which no one, not even you, can deny.”
“I will not pose nude for you, Malfoy.”
“Very well,” Draco said simply, completely calm and reserved, taking another sip of his drink, “You have less than three weeks to come up with 250,000 galleons. I wish you the best of luck.”
Hermione pursed her lips together, stomping her foot on the ground in frustration, “Must you torment me, Malfoy? Why do you want me to pose nude for you? There are plenty of women out there who are more beautiful and more than willing to do the same. Can’t you just be happy with the kiss?” she asked desperately. “If you truly cared about the museum as much as you say you do then you would never let the board and the Ministry shut it down. You know as well as I do the possible repercussions of such a drastic choice.”
“I return the same sentiments to you, Granger,” Draco retorted, “If you truly cared about the museum as much as you say you do then you would gladly accept any offer presented especially one as rare as this. I am offering you 14 million galleons, no small sum,” he said coldly, “I am offering you a guarantee that the museum will have no want for money for the next decade all for a kiss and for you to be my model for a short amount of time. I am not asking for anything preposterous. No sexual favors, no betrothal. I am simply asking for two favors.”
Damn him. She couldn’t help but feel guilty at his words. It was true. In return for at least a decade of financial security for the museum, she had to perform a few simple favors. It was wrong though. He was bribing her. He knew that she could never turn down such an offer without always regretting her decision. She couldn’t live out the rest of her life knowing that she could’ve saved the museum in return for her pride. An odalisque was beautiful, sensual, attractive, and an object of desire. It was just that, however. An odalisque was an object.
Hermione Granger was not an object. She was not a model. Her beauty was not ethereal enough to be forever imprinted onto a canvas, remembered for the rest of eternity.
Why did he want to paint her?
She didn’t have the answers and he simply stared back at her, his grey eyes unreadable.
She let out a sigh of frustration, looking down at the carpeted floor, her fists tightly clenched at her sides, “Fine, I’ll do it.”
If she looked up, she would’ve seen the relief, passion, desire, and happiness reflected in his eyes.
-*-
Author’s Note: Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres was a French Neoclassical painter. His works were extremely expressive and powerful. He was absolutely brilliant. The criticisms that made him flee Paris centered mostly on the portrait of Napoleon that he did in 1806 (it now hangs in the Musée de l'Armée in Paris). Many critics, painters, and Parisians found it to be archaic and filled with stylistic discordances. One critic claimed it looked like Napoleon was drowning in his clothing, suggesting that he was unfit for the throne entirely. Ingres was in Rome when he received news of these criticisms. Shamed and outraged, he remained in Rome, never returning to Paris (effectively breaking off his engagement with Marie-Anne-Julie Forestier) until much later in his life.
“Come again?”
Hermione let out a sigh as a light pink blush colored her cheeks. “He offered the museum an enormous amount of money that would help us get out of debt and be well-established for years to come in return for a significant amount of control of the museum’s further endeavors and-“
“I don’t care about all of that,” Ginny interrupted, “Repeat the part about the kiss again.”
Hermione put her hands on her hips, a small huff escaping her mouth as she pursed her lips, “There really isn’t more to that part except the demand of a kiss in return for money. I’m not some common whore, you know,” she said angrily, “I can’t believe he had the audacity to even suggest that!”
“Did you slap him?”
The blush deepened against Hermione’s skin. What was she supposed to say? That instead of defending her honor she simply sat there like an idiot and sniffed Draco Malfoy? She looked down and tried her best not to fidget, “I didn’t have a chance to say anything before he left.”
Ginny raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, “So, are you going to accept?”
“A-Absolutely not!” Hermione sputtered before she bit her lip, “Although it is quite a tempting offer.”
Ginny smirked and gave her a knowing look.
“Not the part about the kiss! I’m talking about the money,” she sighed wistfully, “If the museum had an endowment that large, we could actually hold larger special exhibitions, buy more valuable and rare pieces, and perhaps even borrow some works from muggle institutions. I’ve been dying to do an exhibition focusing on the work of Turner and comparing his muggle and magical works.”
Ginny nodded encouragingly, “I’m sure that would be a big hit. Even the Ministry would appreciate that. They’re always trying to toot their own horn and push forth the ‘British is better’ agenda.” She rolled her eyes, “Xenophobic bastards.”
“I can’t accept though,” she almost sounded sad yet her tone was resolute, “It would be immoral, improper, and probably highly illegal.”
“Not necessarily,” Ginny said carefully, “There’s no law against donations, in fact, it’s encouraged. I’m sure it wouldn’t sit well with the board that he’s willing to bail the museum out in this fashion but they can shove it.” She sipped her tea quietly watching Hermione with curious eyes.
“What about the being my superior thing and holding his own exhibition without approval? I’m positive the board would never approve that.”
“Well, that’s not really your responsibility, is it? You were elected into your position and it’s really not in your power to decide who becomes your superior—it’s the board’s. I think it’s out of your hands.” Ginny seemed quite pleased with herself as she said triumphantly, “Tell him that you agree to his terms but that he’s responsible for fulfilling the other terms he specifies in his contract. If he wants to hold his own exhibitions without the necessity of the board’s approval and become your superior, then he needs to get it himself. It’s not like you can just wave your wand and make it all happen. It’s not in your power.”
“Ginny, that’s brilliant,” Hermione was nearly bouncing with glee, “The board will never agree to that. I’ll ask him to sign an agreement that dictates that he will donate the money and that as director, I agree to his stipulations but the approval of the board is something he will have to get himself. He’ll have to sign it. His stupid Malfoy pride wouldn’t dare let him do otherwise. The museum will get the money and Malfoy will be out of my hair for a good long while. The board will not appreciate being threatened in this matter. He’ll lose all the influence that he had.” She laughed lightly, “I almost feel bad for him. Almost.”
Ginny snorted, “You shouldn’t. That pompous arse. He just wanted to put you in an awkward position and test you. If he really wanted to do good for the museum, he would’ve just donated the money without any demands whatsoever. He is and forever will be a selfish bastard that is simply too good-looking. It’s unfair.”
Even Hermione couldn’t deny the truth in her words. She exhaled and sat back in the fluffy chair, a pleasant smile gracing her lips.
“So what do you plan to about the kiss thing?”
“I guess I’ll just have to suck it up and do it. I mean, considering the circumstances, 14 million galleons to save a museum that I’ve dedicated my entire life and career to for a simple kiss that will last a mere second should be tolerable.”
“Tolerable?” Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, Hermione, you aren’t sexless and blind. The man is bloody gorgeous and he’s willing to donate a ridiculous amount of money that most wizards don’t even dare of dreaming they would ever possess and all for a kiss from you. I would give him a kiss and then some,” she waggled her eyebrows before laughing at Hermione’s shocked face.
“Shouldn’t I be offended that he’s essentially treating me as something to be purchased and then thrown away?”
“Each to their own, I say, but if I were you, I would feel flattered.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, deciding it would be best to let the subject drop. Her mind couldn’t help but wander to the terms of his offer. It seemed that was all that she had been doing this week – thinking about Malfoy and his blasted offer. Today was the last day. She could no longer put it off anymore. She would have to go to him tonight and give him her final decision. Though she had sounded fairly confident and reassured when talking with Ginny, her mind was in absolute turmoil. She was being ridiculous and stupid. She knew that Ginny was right. The board would never agree to Malfoy’s terms and because she would make him sign the contract beforehand, his donation did not depend upon if the board approves his ridiculous demand to effectively gain full control and access to the museum, it was essentially 14 million galleons for one insignificant kiss.
It really shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did but she couldn’t help it. She had strong morals and there were certain things that she just didn’t do and that included kissing Draco Malfoy! He never did specify what type of kiss he wanted. It could just be a peck on the cheek for all she knew.
That could be manageable. Hermione let out a sigh. Who was she kidding? It was Malfoy and that tricky, slippery little bastard would milk it for all it was worth and probably take advantage of her. He wasn’t the king of Slytherin for nothing.
Hermione couldn’t deny Ginny’s words, however. A small part of her—a part that she kept hidden away in the back recesses of her mind and absolutely refused to ever let surface—had always wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Ginny was right. She wasn’t blind nor was she sexless and yes, perhaps a few times during her years at Hogwarts, she might’ve possibly had a fantasy or two about Malfoy. It wasn’t as if she ever expected it to come to anything. It never hurt to look and it certainly wasn’t her fault that he was just so damned good to look at.
It was his fault really. Bloody handsome bastard.
She was in control of herself though. She might’ve been attracted to him at some point in her life but her work and the museum came first. She refused to let him get the best of her. He had quite the reputation of being a womanizer during his Hogwarts years, breaking hearts left and right. Hermione had many a memory where she was patrolling and would catch him with his hands up a random girl’s skirt. It was a different girl each time and the shock and traumatic effect never faded. He would always smirk at her, sometimes even going so far as winking but she would merely threaten him, knowing it would come to nothing, before she stomped off in the opposite direction. She never did wonder why it was always her that caught Malfoy in these compromising positions and why he chose to carelessly flirt with her though he had another willing girl in his arms. After he graduated, Draco Malfoy had all but faded off into the background. Rarely, if ever, did he make the headlines of the Daily Prophet and usually, it was for donating some ridiculous sum of money to his new favorite philanthropic pursuit or attending yet another extravagant and highly unnecessary Ministry gala. Hermione frowned, trying her best to remember if she had ever read anything regarding his romantic pursuits.
It seemed he was content on living a more low-key lifestyle as he grew older. Hermione was sure that he had his share of consorts post-Hogwarts. He probably just paid off the folks at the Daily Prophet to keep their mouths shut. It wouldn’t surprise her.
Draco Malfoy was and would always be a heartless jerk that simply toyed with emotions. That was exactly what she was to him, Hermione decided. A plaything to amuse him for a few weeks before he tired of her and then threw her to the side.
She would refuse to let him get the best of her. After all, it wasn’t just her own pride and reputation on the line – it was her entire career and life. She would not let him destroy the museum.
-*-
Hermione felt dirty. She held the business card between her forefinger and thumb, flipping it over between her fingers, her brown eyes scrutinizing it before she let out a heavy sigh. Why did she have to whisper his name in order to activate it?
Such an action was too intimate and sexual for her liking. She knew she was just being silly but she would be more comfortable with a spell. She expelled some air through her lips before she said loudly and clearly, “Malfoy.”
Nothing.
Hermione squinted at the card. Was it broken or something?
Whisper my name. That was what he had said. Malfoy had officially become the most irritating git on the face of the planet. Hermione repeated his name but this time in a soft whisper.
Nothing. Again.
Hermione almost threw the card down in frustration but instead she made a few disgruntled noises. What was she missing now? She was saying his name. It suddenly struck her. Perhaps, the portkey would only activate with his full name. Hermione glared at the indiscriminate card, feeling as if it was taunting her. He would do this. She and Malfoy were not on first-name terms. That meant they were familiar or that they were friends. They were neither and Hermione had intended to keep it that way.
It felt dirty, bizarre, and strange to whisper his full name into a card. It was just wrong. It was too intimate.
She let out another sigh and shook out her arms, readying herself, “Draco-“
Before she could even finish his name, the portkey activated and she felt the familiar tugging in her stomach. Moments later, she was in what she assumed to be Draco’s study in Malfoy manor.
“I’ve been expecting you.”
Hermione whipped around, a few strands of her hair hung messily around her, covering a part of her face.
“You certainly took your time to make the decision.”
“I wanted to make an informed decision,” Hermione retorted as she watched him carefully. He was dressed in a dark green button-down shirt, the top few buttons unbuttoned so she could see the pale skin of his chest underneath, and black silk pajama pants. Was it really that late? Her eyes glanced out the window and she could see the moon high in the sky.
“And what decision have you come to?”
“Yes.”
If he was shocked by her choice, he certainly hid it well. He simply nodded and took a sip of the amber drink that he held in his hands.
“With certain conditions, however,” Hermione continued. “As director, I agree to allowing you full control of running one special exhibition a year without any interference on my part as well as you becoming my superior. However, the final decision does not rest in my hands. It is something that the Board of Trustees must agree upon and you know as well as I do that I cannot force them to agree to anything they don’t want to. As such, I will fulfill my end of the agreement. Please sign this contract,” she handed a piece of parchment to him, “It says that you agree to donate the previously mentioned sum of 14 million galleons total regardless of the final decision of the board.”
His grey eyes scanned quickly across the parchment before the tossed it onto his desk lazily, “And what of the kiss?”
Hermione stiffened, “It was a part of our original agreement so I will acquiesce.”
Draco raised an eyebrow, taking a look at the parchment once again. Hermione stood in front of his desk awkwardly as he read in silence. After what seemed like forever, he finally spoke once again, “I will agree to your terms, Granger. I’ll even agree to donate the money even if the board denies my demands.”
Hermione’s heart soared and she couldn’t contain the smile that burst onto her face.
“But, I have one additional stipulation to add.”
Her heart dropped and immediately, a frown replaced the smile, “What exactly?”
“I want you to pose for me.”
“Excuse me?”
“I want to paint you, Granger.”
Hermione’s brow furrowed, “As in a portrait?”
“Of sorts,” Draco smirked before he clasped his hands together. “I want to paint you as an odalisque.”
Hermione blinked a few times, her mouth dropped open as she tried her best to wrap her mind around his request, “You want to paint me as an odalisque?”
“You seem to enjoy repeating my words.”
“Are you mad? I will not pose nude for you, Malfoy!” she seethed, the blood returning to her brain once again at his words. “You have some nerve to-“
“It’s purely for artistic purposes, Granger. I have no wish to seduce you, if that is what you are implying.”
“I don’t know what I’m implying, Malfoy. First, you offer 14 million galleons for a kiss and now you’re asking me to pose nude for you.”
“I offered 14 million galleons to save a museum that I have enjoyed and frequented ever since I was a child. The kiss is simply an added bonus. I am asking you to pose as an odalisque, an artistic subject that many influential painters have embraced before. Ingres, for example.”
“Ingres was an absolute cur. He abandoned his fiancée without a word while he fled to Rome, scared and unable to handle the criticisms he received for his artwork,” Hermione said in annoyance, her eyes stormy and hard.
“I wasn’t commenting on his character, Granger, merely his artistic talent which no one, not even you, can deny.”
“I will not pose nude for you, Malfoy.”
“Very well,” Draco said simply, completely calm and reserved, taking another sip of his drink, “You have less than three weeks to come up with 250,000 galleons. I wish you the best of luck.”
Hermione pursed her lips together, stomping her foot on the ground in frustration, “Must you torment me, Malfoy? Why do you want me to pose nude for you? There are plenty of women out there who are more beautiful and more than willing to do the same. Can’t you just be happy with the kiss?” she asked desperately. “If you truly cared about the museum as much as you say you do then you would never let the board and the Ministry shut it down. You know as well as I do the possible repercussions of such a drastic choice.”
“I return the same sentiments to you, Granger,” Draco retorted, “If you truly cared about the museum as much as you say you do then you would gladly accept any offer presented especially one as rare as this. I am offering you 14 million galleons, no small sum,” he said coldly, “I am offering you a guarantee that the museum will have no want for money for the next decade all for a kiss and for you to be my model for a short amount of time. I am not asking for anything preposterous. No sexual favors, no betrothal. I am simply asking for two favors.”
Damn him. She couldn’t help but feel guilty at his words. It was true. In return for at least a decade of financial security for the museum, she had to perform a few simple favors. It was wrong though. He was bribing her. He knew that she could never turn down such an offer without always regretting her decision. She couldn’t live out the rest of her life knowing that she could’ve saved the museum in return for her pride. An odalisque was beautiful, sensual, attractive, and an object of desire. It was just that, however. An odalisque was an object.
Hermione Granger was not an object. She was not a model. Her beauty was not ethereal enough to be forever imprinted onto a canvas, remembered for the rest of eternity.
Why did he want to paint her?
She didn’t have the answers and he simply stared back at her, his grey eyes unreadable.
She let out a sigh of frustration, looking down at the carpeted floor, her fists tightly clenched at her sides, “Fine, I’ll do it.”
If she looked up, she would’ve seen the relief, passion, desire, and happiness reflected in his eyes.
-*-
Author’s Note: Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres was a French Neoclassical painter. His works were extremely expressive and powerful. He was absolutely brilliant. The criticisms that made him flee Paris centered mostly on the portrait of Napoleon that he did in 1806 (it now hangs in the Musée de l'Armée in Paris). Many critics, painters, and Parisians found it to be archaic and filled with stylistic discordances. One critic claimed it looked like Napoleon was drowning in his clothing, suggesting that he was unfit for the throne entirely. Ingres was in Rome when he received news of these criticisms. Shamed and outraged, he remained in Rome, never returning to Paris (effectively breaking off his engagement with Marie-Anne-Julie Forestier) until much later in his life.
Napoleon I: http://www.powellhistory.com/art/Painting/Ingres_Napoleon_on_his_Imperial_throne.jpg
Some examples of odalisques in painting: http://www.wga.hu/art/i/ingres/05ingres.jpg, http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3263/2615602700_e18f9011c7_o.jpg, http://cfs9.tistory.com/image/11/tistory/2008/08/25/18/32/48b27c34475b0
Also, sorry if my previous note confused anyone. The Louvre is absolutely gigantic. My legs almost fell off and died after I visited. I was merely referencing the collection size, not the physical gallery space.