A/N:...if you didn't realize....rtf-saved files stopped working (grrrr) so...back to t he annoying txt versions....oh welll.
He Who Lived:Part Seven.
Dumbledore led them into the spacious, warm-fealing room. Fleetlingly, Hermione was reminded of her unnerving vision. She glanced from Fox to Draco to Dumbledore, and back again, then, fealing a riseing sensation of shame, veered away the blonde slytherinn.
Draco watched her movements helplessly, fealing as though he had lost something immesurably valueble. "Hermione...."he mouthed, looking up from the floor at last.
Hermione gave him a sharp look, hugged her cloak to her chest as she had done in the forbidden forest, not half an hour prior. Draco had the uncontrollable urge to throw a rock through something that would shatter marvelously, like a window. But, lacking both rock and window, he merely vented his frustration by lengthening his stride and scowling at the carpete.
"Do sit down."Dumdledore booms gravely, sweeping an arm envoloped in a swathing purple sleave in the direction of three compfterable looking chairs.
Hermione pointedly arranged herself in the farthest chair.
Draco edged towards the middle one. Hermione looked swiftly away. Sighing, Draco dismally pulled up the closest chair, and Dumbledore took the middle.
"I'm sure you heard the howling."Dumbledore said,"but i am equally convinced you have no idea what danger you were in. You were in the forbidden forest, the closest to hogwarts grounds the dark lord can come! Have you any idea what--? No,no, of course you haven't...i just said that, didn't I..."the headwizard trailed off, removing his glasses and polishing them on his shirt.
Replaceing them, he bore on. Hermione was acting like she always had: like a good student, a good listener. She was watching Dumbledore so intently and unblinkingly her eyes were beginning to smart. Draco, meanwhile, was watching her. He felt as though he was sitting in one of the balcony boxes at an old, elabrate theater, looking down at a play with a rapidly unveiling plot that he was finding hard to follow. Up untill that day, his life had been cunfusing as anyones, but at least it was routine. He was against Harry, the arragant prig, the boy who lived, who held strict tyranny of the house of the snake. He was illusive and forebodeing, he gave the hoards what they wanted:an icy smile, a coy remark, a wave of his wand, a cold shoulder as he left them standing there, blinking there, dazed.
But then Hermione had followed him into the forest, and he'd let her. Wanted her.....to follow him....wanted to be with her.
Wanted her.
And now, what was Dumbledore going on about?
"Voldemort."The headwizard was one of the few who said that name, and it jarred Draco back to the present."The prophecys fortold he would be stopped by the boy who lived, but the boy who lived wants no part of it. The boy who lived wants to rise to be a greater, darker power than voldemort, yet I feal he will seek aprentinceship from him before he stops him, before he illiminates the compition. And where will that leave us? With a greater, darker power. A power that knows what it is to live through all danger imaginable...."Dumbledore paused, drawing a deap breath of air, like a smoker drags a puff of lethal smog.
"...and the name HARRY POTTER will never be uttered again...."Here he paused again,looking first to Draco, then to Hermione, locking eyes with them both.
"....unless....Unless someone else stops the dark lord first. I believe that someone might be one of you."He says with an air of such deap gravity that the very world seamed to hault it's endless, ethereal dance for just a fraction of a secound.
"O-one of Us?"Hermione's voice quavered.
She broke her unspoken vow then, for her gaze flickered to Draco.
He remained exprensionless,silent as the stone the walls were composed of. Secretely, he was thankful. He felt as though he was frozen the marrow while his flesh burned, as though everything incombatable and horrid had allied together to torment him. He watched Hermione swallow, glance at the door, at the carpete. He wondered if she felt it too.
He Who Lived:Part Seven.
Dumbledore led them into the spacious, warm-fealing room. Fleetlingly, Hermione was reminded of her unnerving vision. She glanced from Fox to Draco to Dumbledore, and back again, then, fealing a riseing sensation of shame, veered away the blonde slytherinn.
Draco watched her movements helplessly, fealing as though he had lost something immesurably valueble. "Hermione...."he mouthed, looking up from the floor at last.
Hermione gave him a sharp look, hugged her cloak to her chest as she had done in the forbidden forest, not half an hour prior. Draco had the uncontrollable urge to throw a rock through something that would shatter marvelously, like a window. But, lacking both rock and window, he merely vented his frustration by lengthening his stride and scowling at the carpete.
"Do sit down."Dumdledore booms gravely, sweeping an arm envoloped in a swathing purple sleave in the direction of three compfterable looking chairs.
Hermione pointedly arranged herself in the farthest chair.
Draco edged towards the middle one. Hermione looked swiftly away. Sighing, Draco dismally pulled up the closest chair, and Dumbledore took the middle.
"I'm sure you heard the howling."Dumbledore said,"but i am equally convinced you have no idea what danger you were in. You were in the forbidden forest, the closest to hogwarts grounds the dark lord can come! Have you any idea what--? No,no, of course you haven't...i just said that, didn't I..."the headwizard trailed off, removing his glasses and polishing them on his shirt.
Replaceing them, he bore on. Hermione was acting like she always had: like a good student, a good listener. She was watching Dumbledore so intently and unblinkingly her eyes were beginning to smart. Draco, meanwhile, was watching her. He felt as though he was sitting in one of the balcony boxes at an old, elabrate theater, looking down at a play with a rapidly unveiling plot that he was finding hard to follow. Up untill that day, his life had been cunfusing as anyones, but at least it was routine. He was against Harry, the arragant prig, the boy who lived, who held strict tyranny of the house of the snake. He was illusive and forebodeing, he gave the hoards what they wanted:an icy smile, a coy remark, a wave of his wand, a cold shoulder as he left them standing there, blinking there, dazed.
But then Hermione had followed him into the forest, and he'd let her. Wanted her.....to follow him....wanted to be with her.
Wanted her.
And now, what was Dumbledore going on about?
"Voldemort."The headwizard was one of the few who said that name, and it jarred Draco back to the present."The prophecys fortold he would be stopped by the boy who lived, but the boy who lived wants no part of it. The boy who lived wants to rise to be a greater, darker power than voldemort, yet I feal he will seek aprentinceship from him before he stops him, before he illiminates the compition. And where will that leave us? With a greater, darker power. A power that knows what it is to live through all danger imaginable...."Dumbledore paused, drawing a deap breath of air, like a smoker drags a puff of lethal smog.
"...and the name HARRY POTTER will never be uttered again...."Here he paused again,looking first to Draco, then to Hermione, locking eyes with them both.
"....unless....Unless someone else stops the dark lord first. I believe that someone might be one of you."He says with an air of such deap gravity that the very world seamed to hault it's endless, ethereal dance for just a fraction of a secound.
"O-one of Us?"Hermione's voice quavered.
She broke her unspoken vow then, for her gaze flickered to Draco.
He remained exprensionless,silent as the stone the walls were composed of. Secretely, he was thankful. He felt as though he was frozen the marrow while his flesh burned, as though everything incombatable and horrid had allied together to torment him. He watched Hermione swallow, glance at the door, at the carpete. He wondered if she felt it too.