Sinking Scarves

[Holly Scrimgeour]

The sweet smile she wore in an attempt to charm him into help her disappeared in almost a flash, and her expression dropped into a pursed-lips one. He was going to make this difficult, wasn't he? She'd heard plenty of his self-centered nature and never of his kindness, so she shouldn't have been surprised.

"I am no one's pet, Mr. Lestrange. No one owns me," she said firmly, keeping a firm, yet neutral expression. She did like Seneca Lestrange, but she too had provided Holly with many situations where she'd been forced to defend herself (which she'd appreciated at the end of the day, as it made her far less vulnerable to being used by others). "To suggest such a thing to a young lady like myself is incredibly rude. Miss Lestrange is more of a friendly mentor than my boss."

She wasn't exactly the most patient eleven-year-old; she'd already decided that if he made things too difficult, she'd jump in the lake and force him to help (lest it make him appear like an awful human being).