xxv. it's the omen of death

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"professor dumbledore?"

"ah, yes, miss black." the headmaster descended from the stairs within his office, the gentle grin being hidden behind his unruly facial hair. "how are you?"

"have you called any other student into your office to question that?" zemora stared blankly towards the man before her features were contorting. "are you doing this because of sirius? or because you know of my father? which one is it?"

"calm yourself, little one." albus dumbledore had made his way towards the front of his desk, mere inches from the teenage witch. "i simply spent the summer worried for your wellbeing."

"well, i'm here and breathing, so." zemora's shoulder shrugged nonchalantly as she refused to meet his gaze. "truly, sir. i'm perfectly stable."

"and the incident before the feast?"

"i know you've heard the whispers, professor. i know you see what goes on, i know you're aware they're all terrified of me." the slytherin witch's tone grew considerably as she finally found the headmaster's eye.

"and what of harry? granger and the weasleys? your cousin, mr malfoy? you're not alone here, miss black." professor dumbledore's voice fell sternly, yet remained in a comforting sense. there was a moment of silence as the teenager allowed his words to settle. "have you spoke of the truth behind your father?"

"i can't." zemora turned on her heel abruptly as her hand flew to rub her face out of frustration. "they'll hate me too. they'll hate me forever."

"not unless you give them a reason to. true friendship comes with compassion, and if it is indeed true, they'll remain by your side."

"i don't believe your bloody philosophical speeches can help me with this." zemora glanced back towards the headmaster with contorted features until they fell slack. "i love my friends. i just— i don't want to lose them, and speaking of my father will destroy everything."

the room fell silent once more, almost as if neither could find the words to say. the headmaster's eyebrows furrowed as if his brain was pondering on the thoughts of the truth of the night sirius black was sentenced to azkaban. his head shook ever so slightly in an attempt to will away the tinge of guilt in face of the reminders of his haunting past mistakes.

"i need you to make me a promise, miss black."

zemora failed to conjure a response, and instead stared blankly towards the wizard.

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