A Simple Thank You.
Harry Potter was tired. Sick, and tired. Two years ago he'd finally defeated Voldemort, and he'd lost a lot by doing so. He'd lost Neville Longbottom, Percy Weasley, and most importantly, one of his best friends. Not Hermione or Ron, no. He'd lost Draco Malfoy.
Draco had become a friend halfway through his seventh year, and had become a spy two weeks later. It had been at the end of the war that he'd lost him, to his own father, Lucius Malfoy.
Draco had been on a mission for them…him. It had been Harry's own fault that he'd been caught. Draco'd been trying to find out what side Polly Parkinson, Pansy's older sister, was on. It had turned out that she was playing both sides. She'd triumphantly presented him to Lucius, who'd tortured him first to find out where Harry was hiding Ginny and her daughter.
Draco, being Draco, hadn't told, and had finally gone mad, having been under the influence of Cruciatus for too long, rendering him useless to Voldemort.
So Tom had sent him to Harry as a 'gift', a weak, gibbering idiot who resembled in no way the proud handsome young man that he used to be. Harry visited the poor blonde every week, but he knew there was no hope for his friend's recovery.
What was even worse was the publicity. Everyone wanted to know him, everyone wanted to be his friend, but none of them wanted to know Harry, they only wanted to use Harry Potter as a trophy.
But the latest Owl had really taken the cake. It seemed that Siberia was having a Vampire problem, 'and they desperately needed his help'. Hermione had written to them just one week before, telling them that they needed to shape up in their treatment of the Undead, or they'd find themselves in dire straights, but did they listen? No, they simply sent her an Owl back telling 'the mudblood' to mind her own business. Harry had a half a mind to tell them where they could shove their Vampire problem.
"Harry Potter! Mr. Potter, sir! Please wait!" A young, feminine voice called out. Harry sighed as he turned around. Great, yet another teenager who 'wanted his autograph, or a picture, please, Mr. Harry Potter'.
"Yes?" He snarled, his tetchiness showing on his face. The girl jogged up, looking unperturbed at the obvious irritation of the older man. She seemed about 16, with dark hair and grey eyes. Her skin was pale, and her face was dotted in freckles. She was breathing hard, and had obviously been chasing him for some time.
"Thank goodness." She said, "I wasn't sure if you would hear me."
"Oh? What do you want?" The girl looked at him earnestly, eyes wide. She didn't seem at all daunted by his anger.
"I'm sure you hear this all the time," she began, and Harry rolled his eyes, "but thank you."
"Excuse me?!" Harry asked. He didn't think he'd heard right. Thanking him?! No stranger had ever thanked him before, and even his friends…well…he was hard pressed to remember the last time…
"I said thank you." She blushed darkly, "you saved my family, you saved my friends, you saved the world! And you must have suffered so much. But you never complained, you just did what you had to do." She gave him a hug, surprising him yet again. "So thank you. Thank you for ridding the world of the worst evil it's known in a long time."
"No, thank you." Harry smiled, "no one's ever thanked me for it before." The girl's mouth dropped open. "What's your name?" She blushed even harder.
"Annie Smith."
"Well, Annie, thank you. Thank you for caring."
"Annie!" Both of them turned around and saw a woman waving.
"Just a minute!" Annie yelled.
"Off you go," Harry laughed.
"G'bye, Mr. Potter!" Annie said, running towards the woman, and hugging her.
Harry shook his head, chuckling. Maybe a holiday in Siberia would be nice after all.