My Father's Best Friend

The Assistant

First things first I'll eat your brains, then imma start rocking gold teeth and fangs, cause' that's what a motherfuckin monster do!

"Turn that terrible music off, will you?"

Hairdresser from Milan that's the monster crew-

My bedroom door swung open. "Lyra!"

I reached over my bed and reluctantly turned down my stereo, groaning loudly. "Happy, Draco?"

"Very." Draco was leaning against my doorway, with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. "Why do you always listen to that muggle music anyway? It's rubbish."

"Did you interrupt me just to insult my music taste, or do you actually have something of value to say?" I retorted, wishing I could Avada Kedavra my brother right now.

He rolled his eyes. "Mother sent me to tell you it's time for dinner."

"Fine, tell her I'll be right there."

I rolled out of bed as Draco sauntered out of view, thinking about how much I wished I were back at Hogwarts.

It was the summer after my 7th year at Hogwarts, and I had officially graduated from the school. I was now 18 years old, and was expected to find a job immediately. The only issue was...I had no idea what I wanted to do.

Eventually I might want to be a journalist for The Daily Prophet, but I was in no way qualified for that job yet. Being a shop-owner in Diagon Alley would be nice, too, but I doubt father would approve of that. Not that I really care what he thinks, but his incessant complaining gets tiring sometimes.

I made my way down to the dining room, which was one of the biggest rooms in our manor. The dining room had high ceilings, a sparkling crystal chandelier, and a long black table stretched for as long as the eye could see, with twenty or so black leather chairs that sat in a row on either side of the table. Not only did our family eat meals at this table, but it's often where many Death Eaters came to have meetings. Needless to say, I stay in my room for those.

I sat down at the table next to Draco at the end of the table. My mother, Narcissa, sat in the seat across from me, and my father, Lucius, sat at the head of the table, of course. They looked particularly irritable today.

Steaming plates of roast were placed on the table by our house-elf called Pronks. Draco and I started eating immediately, but Lucius didn't even take a bite before yelling "It's cold," to which Pronks responded by apologizing profusely, rushing the plate from the table with promises of bringing back a fresh plate.

"Honestly, Narcissa," he sneered, "I've been saying we need to fire that thing. She's the worst one we've had."

Narcissa simply sighed, and took a bite of potatoes. She turned to me. "Lyra, have you thought more about where you want to work? The summer is almost over, you know."

I kept my head down and pushed the roast around with my fork absentmindedly. "Maybe I'll try to get a job at Diagon Alley or something, as a shop assistant somewhere," I said.

Lucius's head shot up. "There is no way my daughter is going to have such a mediocre job," he spat. "I have standards for my children."

I started to cut the meat, perhaps a little too aggressively. "You constantly yell at me to get a job, but anything I suggest isn't good enough for you," I said, my voice beginning to rise. "What do you want from me, father?"

Pronks scuttled out of the kitchen, bringing a new plate of roast to Lucius. He jabbed his fork into it and shoved a piece into his mouth, refusing to look at me.