Servant's Work
Harry sat with Anya in the pub and made light conversation about school, classes and about teachers they disliked. Harry was surprised to hear that she didn't like Snape.
"Why not?" he asked, "He's always been nice to me." She laughed.
"Of course he is, he thinks he has to pay back your father for saving his life."
"How do you know about that?" Harry asked, confused. She was right, but no one knew about that fact.
"I have connections," she replied plainly.
"And who are these 'connections' and how do they know?" Harry inquired, a little too harsh. Anya looked abashed. "I'm sorry, it's just that no one really is supposed to know." She nodded.
"I realize that, Harry. But this person can't help but know," she said, looking at him expectantly. He shrugged.
"What am I supposed to say?" Harry asked. Anya rolled her eyes.
"Forget it," she laughed.
"Don't do that, I hate it when people do that," he told her.
"Seriously, Harry, forget it. It's nothing. Besides," she added, looking behind Harry, "Here comes your father." Harry turned toward the door. Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, blocking the wind. He spotted Harry and strode over to where they were sitting. He sat at an empty table.
"Good afternoon, Anya," he said to her. She nodded slightly, trying to hide some kind of emotion.
"Father, what are you doing here?" Harry asked. Anya flinched at Harry's first word.
"The Ministry sent me. I have come to be sort of a guard. Servant's work, mind you, but it will help me keep a closer watch on you boys. See you back in school, Harry. Good day, Anya," he explained and walked off. I looked at Anya.
"How do you know him?" I asked. She shrugged.
"Harry, I need some air. Want to take a walk?" I nodded and we walked outside. The air was cold and I knew the upcoming Quidditch match would have perfect weather. I relayed this to Anya and she laughed her musical laugh. It sounded like so many bells tinkling in the breeze. "I love Quidditch, Harry. I wanted to play, but my aunt thought it would be too dangerous. I think my uncle played, though. He was the one that taught me how to play. How did you learn?"
"It's in my blood," Harry said, puffing out his chest. She giggled, amused. "Actually, it was Draco and Marcus Flint."
"Do you think your mum and dad are happy with you now?"
"I don't know," Harry confessed, looking up at the bright, blue sky. "But I think I'm doing okay for not ever having anyone to look up to. What about your mum?"
"I think she is, Harry. Although, I think she would want me to be in Gryffindor."
"Then I wouldn't have liked you the first time I saw you," Harry said, then realizing what was spoken, he blushed a deep red.
"I probably wouldn't have, either," she revealed. Harry turned to face a bright smile. Harry was relieved to note that her cheeks were tinted red too.
Harry sat with Anya in the pub and made light conversation about school, classes and about teachers they disliked. Harry was surprised to hear that she didn't like Snape.
"Why not?" he asked, "He's always been nice to me." She laughed.
"Of course he is, he thinks he has to pay back your father for saving his life."
"How do you know about that?" Harry asked, confused. She was right, but no one knew about that fact.
"I have connections," she replied plainly.
"And who are these 'connections' and how do they know?" Harry inquired, a little too harsh. Anya looked abashed. "I'm sorry, it's just that no one really is supposed to know." She nodded.
"I realize that, Harry. But this person can't help but know," she said, looking at him expectantly. He shrugged.
"What am I supposed to say?" Harry asked. Anya rolled her eyes.
"Forget it," she laughed.
"Don't do that, I hate it when people do that," he told her.
"Seriously, Harry, forget it. It's nothing. Besides," she added, looking behind Harry, "Here comes your father." Harry turned toward the door. Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, blocking the wind. He spotted Harry and strode over to where they were sitting. He sat at an empty table.
"Good afternoon, Anya," he said to her. She nodded slightly, trying to hide some kind of emotion.
"Father, what are you doing here?" Harry asked. Anya flinched at Harry's first word.
"The Ministry sent me. I have come to be sort of a guard. Servant's work, mind you, but it will help me keep a closer watch on you boys. See you back in school, Harry. Good day, Anya," he explained and walked off. I looked at Anya.
"How do you know him?" I asked. She shrugged.
"Harry, I need some air. Want to take a walk?" I nodded and we walked outside. The air was cold and I knew the upcoming Quidditch match would have perfect weather. I relayed this to Anya and she laughed her musical laugh. It sounded like so many bells tinkling in the breeze. "I love Quidditch, Harry. I wanted to play, but my aunt thought it would be too dangerous. I think my uncle played, though. He was the one that taught me how to play. How did you learn?"
"It's in my blood," Harry said, puffing out his chest. She giggled, amused. "Actually, it was Draco and Marcus Flint."
"Do you think your mum and dad are happy with you now?"
"I don't know," Harry confessed, looking up at the bright, blue sky. "But I think I'm doing okay for not ever having anyone to look up to. What about your mum?"
"I think she is, Harry. Although, I think she would want me to be in Gryffindor."
"Then I wouldn't have liked you the first time I saw you," Harry said, then realizing what was spoken, he blushed a deep red.
"I probably wouldn't have, either," she revealed. Harry turned to face a bright smile. Harry was relieved to note that her cheeks were tinted red too.
