familiar ; draco malfoy

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Still as a statue, Ramona waited for the doors of the headmaster's office to open. McGonagall had gone in a moment earlier, asking her to wait. So she did; she waited and waited, and not that long had passed before she grew restless.

Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe it was all a mistake.

But there was not much time to dwell once the professor ushered her inside. Ramona wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and tried to smooth down her hair. She'd only seen the headmaster once before, during her storing ceremony, and could not for the life of her realize why it was that he summoned her to the office at that time of day.

The grand office of Albus Dumbledore seemed even larger before her eyes and she could not keep her amazement to herself as McGonagall lead her through the room, towards the desk at which the headmaster sat. Her eyes shortly settled on the brilliant phoenix that observed her just as intently as she did him, feathers the color of fire red and bright orange, as if his wings were forged from fire itself.

"Miss Xanthos," greeted Dumbledore, getting up from his large chair and walking around the desk. His pale blue robes seemed even paler in contrast to his white beard and, so close, he seemed even older than he had in the Great Hall. Ramona could make out each crease and line in his face, but the one thing that struck her about him were his eyes and how keenly they observed her as she walked towards him.

"Headmaster," replied Ramona cordially, smiling in what she hoped at least resembled a friendly grin, since she felt like the smile could not reach her eyes. McGonagall excused herself immediately, patting the girl on the shoulder before exiting, making the nature of such a meeting even more nerve wrecking.

"You asked to see me," she said after the silence between them seemed to go on for too long; even after the steps of Minerva McGonagall had ceased to echo, the silence remained between the headmaster and the young witch.

"Yes, yes I did," said Dumbledore, as if awoken from a dream. He leaned on the side of his desk and crossed his arms, the clearing of his throat so violent and loud it made Ramona flinch. Following his actions closely, the observant eye of the girl did not miss the rotten look of his hand which he attempted to hide by his robe, though the piece of black skin was exposed before he could do so.

She sucked in a sharp breath to keep herself from gasping loudly, then covered it with a cough and shuffled her feet, trying to move her attention elsewhere. But none the less, the old man noticed what she'd seen and displayed his hand to her, pulling back the sleeve from his robe.

"It's an ugly thing, is it not?" At his words Ramona dared look toward him again, not granting him an answer but simply tilting her head as she observed the decaying flesh of his hand. His bones were being eaten alive by the terrible curse cast upon them, appearing like burnt branches of a tree rather than an old man's fingers.

Wanting to say something but deciding against it, Ramona opened and closed her mouth like a fish. It rather amused Dumbledore who, pulling the robe back to cover his arm, asked her, "What is it that you want to say?"

"It's nothing really," replied Ramona, guessing that one of the greatest wizards of all time in all probability didn't need her  input on his curse.

"I don't know if you've been told before," began Dumbledore, "but your eyes do a poor job of hiding your thoughts, miss Xanthos. I am not a man that offends easily, though I imagine your thoughts were not ones of offensive nature."

After a brief silence, Ramona dared to speak. She was beyond intimidated by the man before her, eager to know why he had called her, desperate to know why Draco reacted so, terrified of the feeling growing in her stomach.