Eyes Have Silver
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
Filigree, he said.
What's filigree, I asked.
Intricate metal work, I guess.
You guess?
Yeah, Blaise. Permit me to apologize for my inexperience with filigree. It's more of a muggle thing. Or maybe a French thing.
I'm sorry, weren't you French?
No, I'm not.
What's that? You're Nott?
The slight blow to the head I receive for my poor joke is deserved. The bolt it sends through me, that one pitiful moment of physical contact, I didn't come close to deserving.
I never asked for this. For him. I don't ask for a lot of things, I do not get a lot of things. One might conclude that I don't get a lot because I don't ask for it, however I've simply given up asking. Given up to the extent that I cannot remember what it's like to ask, to hope.
But somehow, even without asking, I've got my answer.
You already knew damned well what filigree was, didn't you, Blaise?
Yeah, I did.
How? Did you see them in France?
No. It's just that your eyes have silver.