Chapter Three:

After two long weeks of lessons, even Anne was struggling to keep up. Most of the work was fairly easy, but she considered dropping Arithmancy and Astronomy. She reasoned that, while she enjoyed those classes, the burden of extra homework from them was unnecessary, especially since Quidditch was coming up. As she left the common room on Saturday morning, Anne glanced again at the notice that Urquhart had posted on the board. Tryouts were scheduled to be held later that day.

Blaise found Anne in the corridor outside of the Great Hall. Since learning her name, he had spent the past two weeks taking every opportunity to talk to her. Although he annoyed her greatly, his company was sometimes amusing, and she was starting to get used to him being around.

"Good morning, Blaise," she greeted him as he caught up to her.

"Good morning, Anne," he replied, peering through the window at the misty morning. He then noticed the broom in her hand, "It's a bit early for flying. Aren't you going to have breakfast first?"

Anne shook her head, "I'm not very hungry," she told him.

"Right…" he nodded, pausing for a moment, and then suddenly he took the broom from her and spun her around toward the Great Hall, "let's get something to eat."

She glared darkly at him, but allowed him to lead her to the Slytherin table where Pansy was already pouring milk into a bowl of cereal.

"I thought you weren't eating," Pansy said, reaching for a spoon.

"I wasn't," Anne confirmed as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Blaise grinned and took a seat in front of Pansy, pouring two bowls of cereal for himself and Anne. He leaned the broom on the bench beside him and motioned for Anne to sit.

"Eat," he said. "You can't expect to fly very well on an empty stomach."

"Watch me," she challenged, lunging forward to take her broom, but Blaise was too quick. Sensing her intention, he grabbed it first, causing her to stumble and fall into his lap.

Pansy gasped and choked on her cereal, coughing and spluttering as she watched Anne struggle to reclaim her broom from Blaise's grasp.

"Give. It. Back. Zabini," she threatened, punctuating each word with a weak punch, "I swear I'll—"

"You'll what?" he chuckled. "Eat, Anne," he insisted. "Is that so difficult for you?"

"Fine," she agreed grudgingly.

Anne lifted herself from Blaise's lap and smoothed the wrinkles on her sweater, muttering under her breath as she reluctantly sat next to him, and then pulled the bowl of cereal toward her.

"Pass the berries," she grumbled at Pansy, "and shut your mouth. You're drooling."

•¥•

"I still can't believe you actually let Zabini boss you around like that? I really thought you were going to curse him…" Pansy sounded disappointed.

Anne pretended not to hear her.

The two were headed toward the Quidditch pitch. It was drizzling lightly and the Slytherin tryouts were still a few hours away, but Anne really wanted to do some flying beforehand. When they reached the pitch, Anne noticed that a large crowd had gathered in the stands to watch the Gryffindor's Quidditch tryouts. Most of them were gawking as a large boy who was trying out for Keeper flew off in the completely wrong direction to block an incoming shot.

"Did that moron look Confunded to you?" she asked Pansy offhandedly as they found seats in the stands to watch the last of the contenders hoping to join the team.

"Who?" Pansy had brought along her copy of The Daily Prophet from breakfast and was completely absorbed in the newspaper's advice column.

"Never mind, Parkinson," Anne rolled her eyes. She knew Pansy had only come to the pitch with her because Draco was on the Slytherin team. He hadn't shown up for breakfast and Pansy was determined to corner him at tryouts.

As soon as the crowd dispersed and the new Gryffindor team was chosen, Anne grabbed her broom and took off from the stands into the cool air. It had stopped drizzling and the sun was now trying to break through the clouds. Anne smiled as her hair fluttered behind her while she flew laps around the pitch.

Flying was second nature to Anne. Her father taught her to fly before she could really walk. Anne's first flying lesson took place several feet off the ground in her family's Quidditch pitch on the back of her father's broom. She smiled at the memory.

Whenever she needed to clear her head, Anne would take to the air. Since her father had given Anne her first broom, flying had become her escape. As she circled the goal posts, she thought about what had happened earlier. In only two weeks, Blaise had already become so comfortable around her. Pansy wasn't far off in thinking that Anne was going to curse him for embarrassing her. She had certainly wanted to and easily could have, but something had stopped her.

She was so lost in thought that she did not notice that the others had arrived until the shrill screech of Urquhart's whistle broke her reverie. Anne drifted toward the small group gathered around the Slytherin's team captain and touched down beside Draco, whom Pansy was busy fussing over.

"Not now," he grumbled, and then noticed Anne. "Do you need something, Prince?"

She held her broom out to him with a grin.

"No way," he said flatly.

She arched an eyebrow.

"You can't do this," he chided as he walked away from her to stand with the others.

"We'll see about that, Malfoy. It's not your decision anyway," she shrugged, following him. "What? Are you afraid I'll show you up?"

•¥•

The tall, dark-haired wizard and his young companion touched down at the front door of Malfoy Manor. This was the first time the man's daughter had accompanied him to this place. Usually when her father and Lucius Malfoy had business to discuss, they did so in her father's study. Today, however, the girl's father had brought her along because he wanted her to meet Lucius and Narcissa's son, Draco. The child had agreed enthusiastically; it would be nice to have a friend before it was time to go to Hogwarts.

She was excited.

"Nicholas, Anne, welcome." Lucius greeted them with a nod. Narcissa stood smiling by his side.

"Lucius! Cissa!" a seven-year-old Anne cried out while running toward them.

Lucius laughed and walked off with Anne's father as Narcissa took Anne's hand and led her into the foyer.

"Draco, darling, come and say hello to Anne," she called as they entered.

Anne peeked from behind Narcissa's skirt at the slight, blonde boy strutting pompously toward them. She giggled. The boy looked like a younger version of Lucius, with shorter hair.

"Hello," he said simply. "Mother, is father ever going to teach me to fly?" he asked Narcissa.

"Oh, dear, well your father's quite busy at the mo—"

"I can teach you," Anne piped up. "Cissa, does Draco have a broom? I left mine outside."

"Certainly, Anne," she said, caught a little off-guard. "I'll get it and meet you there."

"Thank you."

Anne took Draco by the arm and practically dragged him into the front yard. "You're going to love flying," she assured him.

"Let go of me, stupid girl," he huffed. "What do you know about flying an—?"

Anne took off before he could finish the question.

"Silly boy," she teased him from the air. "Catch me if you can!"

•¥•

Anne left the pitch alone a short while later. Her trial had gone smoothly and the contemptuous expression on Draco's face when she was declared one of the new Chasers was still fresh in her mind. Pansy stayed behind hoping that Draco would talk to her, but from what Anne had seen, Draco seemed anxious to leave as soon as the tryouts ended. She didn't care much for the relationship between those two, though she couldn't help pitying Pansy a little.

Anne reached the common room just as Zabini was leaving. Damn it, she thought. She pushed past him, hoping he hadn't noticed her. Don't talk to me, please don't talk to me, she begged him silently, keeping her gaze low as she beelined toward the girls dormitory. Before she could reach her destination, Blaise saw her.

"How did it go?" he asked.

She froze, clenching and unclenching her fists. So close. She sighed, and turned around feigning surprise.

"Zabini," she cleared her throat, "Well," she smirked, "you are looking at the new Chaser on the Slytherin team."

"See? I knew you'd fly better with some breakfast in you," he winked. "You don't have to thank me," he added, casually adjusting his tie.

"Idiot," she laughed, "I could out-fly you any day, with or without food."

"I don't know about that…" he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, err, Anne," he breathed, "Damn. I wasn't expecting you to look so…"

She watched him curiously, raising an eyebrow as he suddenly became very interested in the ceiling.

"You know I can't hear you if you mumble, Zabini," she pressed. "While I would love to stay and chat, I really need to change out of these clothes, and it's lunch time, so we should really—"

"Anne-I-really-like-you," he said in one breath before exhaling. "I really like you," he repeated. "I was actually on my way to look for you, and then you burst in with your windblown hair and your face all flushed and your…" he groaned.

Anne stared at him, blinking slowly. "My…?" and then she started laughing. "Blaise. What the hell are you talking about? My hair? Ha!"

He looked crestfallen for a moment, clearly hurt by her reaction. She lifted a hand slowly, tempted to console him, but she thought better of it. He was adjusting his tie again. She sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said flatly. "Hey," she continued with a small smile, "why don't you wait for me to do something about my 'windblown hair' and I'll join you for lunch, all right?"

"Sure," he said lightly, "but, to be honest," he grinned, his suavity returning, "I wasn't really looking at your hair."

She gasped, shoving him, and then rushed toward the dormitory before he could retaliate.

•¥•

Anne was distracted from what Pansy was saying about Draco at dinner that night because Blaise kept reaching over to grab desserts from the tray in front of her. Pansy, immersed in her endless relationship problems, was utterly unaware that neither he nor Anne were paying any attention to her. Finally Anne spoke up.

"Where is Draco, anyway?" she asked, slapping Blaise's hand away as he tried to take another treacle tart. "You have five on your plate, Zabini," she pointed out with a glare. "I think that's enough."

"I don't know," Pansy huffed, her lip quivering. "He said he was busy with his 'job.' I'm so worried about him."

Job? What job? Anne was confused, but knew that Pansy would never give her the information she needed. She would have to get it from the source. But where is he? she thought. What the hell is he doing?

"Will you stop it?" she hissed at Blaise, but it wasn't Zabini who had tapped her shoulder.

"Miss Prince," Severus Snape's voice was as greasy as his hair. "May I have a word?"