Stunning cubist nude by Nicolas Poliakoff (1899-1976). Russian painter based in France and from the “Ecole de Paris”. If you look carefully you will notice that on top of color mastering and cubism wizardry Nicolas Poliakoff also gave his various colored spaces different textures & movements, using almost a ceramicist skills such as sgraffito, by carving various areas of the canvas with his brushes….👀 1950s Oil on canvas. 65 x 54 cm —————————————————- A vous couper le souffle ce grand nu cubiste du peintre russe , naturalisé français, Nicolas POLIAKOFF (1899-1976). Peintre faisant partie de “l’Ecole de Paris”, Nicolas Poliakoff fut l’élève d’Andre Lhote … bien sûr… En plus de sa maîtrise des couleurs et de l’espace je suis soufflé par le travail qu’il fait sur la matière, presque comme un Ceramiste et sa technique du sgraffite … topissime… (zoomer pour apprécier) Huile sur toile signée en bas à droite En très bon état. Dimensions: 65 x 54 cm à vue. ——————————————————— #modern #modernart #ecoledeparis #artmoderne #poliakoff #expressionism #cubisme #cubism #andrelhote #nicolaspoliakoff #CrozonAntiquites #Crozon #modernhome #moderndecor #1950s #decorateur #bretagne #designer #designers #interiordesign #ukraine #colors #bretagne #paris #belgrade #abstractiongeometrique #geometricabstraction #artcollector #bretagnetourisme https://www.instagram.com/p/CaM1-CvIa3x/?utm_medium=tumblr
A cute Krumione fic nobody asked for. Probably a series’ first chapter.
Masterlist (where you can find Slytherin!Hermione, Dramione and Fremione)
If you find any grammar mistake I’m sorry, you can point it out in DM or if you want to stay anon drop the correction in my ask box.
Words count: 1531
"Do you hear something?" Ron asked, breaking the silence. A loud and strangely mysterious sound came toward them from the darkness, a rumble and a stifled suction.
“The lake!” screamed Lee Jordan, pointing at its center, where a strange and seething turbulence sent waves crashing on the muddy banks. Something that looked like a long pole began to slowly emerge from the heart of the vortex and Ron explained to her that it was a mast, as if she hadn’t already known.
Slow and majestic, the ship rose from the water, shining in the moonlight. It looked strangely skeletal; a wreck whose dim lights in the hatches looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great lapping, the ship completely emerged, floating on the rough water, and began to slide towards the shore. A few moments later, they heard the thud of an anchor thrown into a shallow seabed, and shortly afterwards the shapes of the passengers, who wore frowned furs that made them all look the same, went up the meadows that separated them from the castle.
"Dumbledore!" yelled warmly the tall, thin, gray-haired man who led them. "How are you, my dear friend?"
"Very well, thank you, Professor Karkaroff." Dumbledore answered.
"Dear, old Hogwarts." he said, looking up at the castle, and smiling; his teeth were yellowish and Hermione noticed that the smile didn’t extend to the eyes, which had remained cold and penetrating. She didn’t like that man, and for as long as he would be there, she would’ve avoided him and his students like the plague.
At the end of the welcome banquet, Karkaroff summoned them to go back to the ship. As soon as Viktor got up, the headmaster approached him with a paternal gesture, asking him how he felt and whether he had eaten enough. Viktor barely had time to answer, that immediately another question followed the previous one, and mentally thanked Poliakoff for having entered the conversation and thus attracted the principal's attention.
They reached the door with the other students, and a younger, thin, pale-skinned boy with dishevelled black hair stopped to give them way. The principal thanked him, barely giving him a glance, and then stopped and turned back to the boy. Viktor also looked at him curiously, until Poliakoff nudged Darina and pointed openly at the scar on his forehead.
“Yes, he’s Harry Potter.” a corpulent man with a wooden leg and a glass eye said in a growling voice. Karkaroff's face lost colour but a girl who was waiting beside Potter had attracted Viktor’s attention: she had curly brown hair she probably had absentmindedly tried to comb and penetrating hazel eyes that seemed to want to set fire to the whole Durmstrang delegation. Before he could ask her what led her to detest them so much, the headmaster took them away, heading quickly toward the entrance; he calmed down only when they finally reached the quiet of the boat.
"What do you think happened between Karkaroff and that man?" Andrei asked him, when he was sure no one could hear them. He was his assistant and didn’t wanted to be downgraded in that situation; he wanted to have a career in the M.o.M., and if the news had arrived at Crouch or Bagman, he wouldn’t have made a good impression. Viktor shrugged, but he had a doubt: the glass-eyed man could only be Mad-Eye Moody, the one who had sent the principal to Azkaban.
The following day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to go visit Hagrid. They found him particularly strange, with combed hair and even wearing a suit that he had to define beautiful. Everything was explained when it was time to return to the castle for the announcement of the Tournament’s champions; the giant half ignored them to go up the hill with the principal of Beauxbatons. Just like for the Durmstrang delegation, Hermione couldn’t stand the French. At least it was what she kept repeating herself, despite enthusiastically pointing out to her friends that even the Nordic delegation was going up from the lake towards the castle. Ron also looked enthusiastic, and followed Krum with his gaze, but the latter didn’t even look around as he reached the main door and crossed it before them. Just like Ron, Hermione was also partly disappointed.
When they entered, the Great Hall was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; now it stood in front of Dumbledore's place at the teachers' table.
"I hope it's Angelina." said Fred, who seemed to have taken well the disappointment of not being able to stand as a candidate, while Harry, Ron and Hermione took their seats.
“Me too!” exclaimed Hermione, nearly breathless. “We’ll discover it soon!”
Instead the banquet seemed to go on longer than usual. Perhaps because it was the second in two days, perhaps because of the impatience, perhaps because she knew who was to prepare them, perhaps because she felt strangely observed, but Hermione didn’t enjoy the extraordinary dishes as she would’ve done under normal circumstances.
When the gold plates finally returned as immaculate as they originally were, the noise in the Hall grew brusquely, only to disappear almost instantly when Dumbledore stood up. At his side, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime seemed tense and anxious like everyone else. Hermione followed the Durmstrang headmaster’s gaze, who was inevitably resting on Krum. He was his favourite, it was obvious, but he was also the whole delegation’s and of many Slytherins and Gryffindors. Hermione also found herself cheering for him when Dumbledore took the first piece of parchment in his hands, announcing that the name of the Durmstrang champion would be written on it. When he finally said his name, she too rejoiced. For a moment, she even seemed to meet his gaze, before the boy moved awkwardly from Slytherin's table to Dumbledore and disappeared past the door into the next room.
He was in the boat’s living room when Andrei entered, the expression of someone who has a funny story to tell.
"You cannot even imagine what's just happened in the castle's basement. Two fourth-year students challenged each other, but neither hit the other, and both hit an opponent's friend."
Poliakoff laughed, and Darina asked who the two idiots were.
"One is a Slytherin, they say his father is a Death Eater, and the other was Harry Potter himself! I cannot believe that such an incompetent has defeated You-Know-Who” replied Andrei.
“And now he’s also a Tournament’s champion!” exclaimed Poliakoff disdainfully.
"And their friends? Did they get hurt?" asked Darina. She was a good and selfless girl, but when she got angry, she was scary.
Andrei shook his head: "Nothing important, but they say that Potter's friend, the one you find pretty," he specified, turning to Viktor, "have grown huge teeth."
Viktor didn’t waited a second longer and snapped to his feet, overtaking Andrei before he could stop him from doing what he intended to do.
He reached the infirmary in a few minutes, when anyone would’ve taken much longer, and as soon as he opened the double-hinged door of the hospital wing, he met the girl's moist and reddened eyes. Madam Pomfrey, or at least it seemed to him that the woman who cared for sick and wounded at Hogwarts was called like that, had already returned her teeth to a normal size but something in her expression told him that the girl was still suffering.
"If you're looking for Goyle he's willing to hide behind that curtain until his nose is normal again." she said, quickly looking away. Viktor frowned, wondering who could be Goyle.
"I'm actually here for you." he said, approaching with measured steps.
"Do you want to make fun of the big-toothed girl too?" she asked, stubbornly looking away.
"No. I just wanted to ask you who attacked your friend."
When she finally looked at him, her expression seemed surprised. Then she recomposed, and mumbled that it didn’t matter, that he and Harry were even.
"Then I'll ask you who made fun of you." he added. He wouldn’t have left that infirmary until he had someone on whom he could avenge her.
“Everyone.” she said, hiding her face in her hands.
“Miss Granger, you can…” started Madam Pomfrey, but she stopped suddenly, looking at an indefinite point behind his shoulders. “And who are you?"
Viktor turned and met Poliakoff's mortified gaze. He probably hadn’t even understood what the woman had just asked him: his English was terrible.
"Professor Karkaroff asked me to come looking for you shortly after you left the boat, but I didn’t know where to find you." He looked slightly out of breath. "They want you on the ground floor, for the Daily Prophet’s photos.”
Viktor stopped himself from snorting, but it bothered him beyond all limits.
"So, Miss Granger, I suppose we'll see each other later." he said, before getting up from the cot on which she too was sitting.
"Hermione, my name is Hermione."
Viktor nodded, as a sign that he had understood, and a faint smile appeared on his face as he descended to the lower floor. It wasn’t really an answer, but at least it was somewhere to start.
