It was only a few weeks since getting her assignment before Dahlia met Lockhart again. It was chaotic in Flourish & Blotts that September morning as first, second, and third year students from Hogwarts were scrambling to find all the books needed for term; it almost made Dumbledore's niece nostalgic for her school days. However she was standing behind a table looking and golden floss like hair in perfect waves as his overly confident voice flowed to all that could hear it. Witches, mostly mothers, were standing in the ridiculously long line that rounded the door and into the cobblestone street. Dahlia tried not to sigh or be seen in any of the pictures for the Daily Prophet, just being there was embarrassment enough for the recently graduated Ravenclaw; she still wondered how Gilderoy even got into Ravenclaw in the first place, but the Sorting Hat knows what it is doing.
"Get a picture of me and my new teaching assistant," the blonde stated as he gracefully stood up and put his arm around the thin girl, "This is Rose, Albus Dumbledore's niece and a fellow Ravenclaw…"
"My name is Dahlia," she corrected both the reporter and Lockhart.
"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he gently caressed her cheek and it took a serious amount of control to not recoil.
"Are you two a couple," the reporter asked as the photographer snapped several pictures of them too close for comfort and nearly every witch in line held their breath and glared at Dahlia. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by another voice.
"Isn't that Harry Potter?"
All the attention turned to this young boy with shaggy brown hair covering the infamous scar and round glasses sitting on his nose. The photographer grabbed the boy and pulled him through the crowd and to Lockhart's table. Gilderoy's arm moved from the lilac haired girl nearly pushing her behind him to grab Harry by the neck for what would surely be the front page of the Prophet. It made Dahlia breathe easier seeing that she wasn't the only one that was uncomfortable around the blonde heartthrob.
"DAHL!" two voiced shouted out above the din of the crowd.
The girl peered around the table to see two tall red headed boys waving her over. A mile wide grin crossed her face making her ice blue eyes shine. She deftly maneuvered around the DADA teacher so not to be seen and in doing so ran into Molly Weasley, "Molly," she said cheerfully.
"Ah, Dahlia dear, assisting Gilderoy this year?" the girl nodded, "Good," the red head woman pulled her in for a hug and then sent her on her way.
"Fred, George," Dahlia said slyly, "what sort of trouble are you two conjuring?"
"Nothing yet, wanna help," they said in unison.
"As much as I would lads," she turned to look at Lockhart with this goofy and dreamy look on his face as he caught her eyes, Dahlia turned, "I'm babysitting."
"Miss Dumbledore," a voice slithered out and a silver snake head attached to a cane pulled her around, "Causing trouble with peasants again?"
"Mr. Malfoy, we both know the only peasant in attendance is yourself, now if you will excuse me," she tired to turn but Lucius grabbed her wrist and pulled her closed, "Let me go," she said through gritted teeth trying to conceal the pain as his grip increased.
"Not until you've apologized whelp," he growled low.
"Lucius," the velvet tones of Lockhart broke the tension, "If you would be so kind as to return my assistant."
"Of course," he let go of Dahlia and she returned to Gilderoy's side.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He put a caring arm around her, "You're not hurt," his voice was soft and soaked with care.
Dahlia smiled at the blonde, "Just my pride, your fans are waiting."
He rubbed her arm and turned, "Now where were we?"
She'd have to be careful, Lucius was working closely with Fudge and that never bodes well and he's never been fond of her. All that is thought of Dahlia Dumbledore is nepotism. Something she fought tooth and nail all through her time as a student at Hogwarts, when she became a prefect and graduated with top marks. She kept her blue eyes on Malfoy; if Draco wasn't careful he'd turn out just like his father. Those grey eyes turned to hers and nearly burned a hole in her. He broke the contact to escort his son out of the bookshop. An audible breath of relief left her making the professor turn and grabbed her hand giving it a small squeeze before returning to his autographs. The girl smiled for a brief second, maybe this term wouldn't be so bad.