Black and Potter | H. Potter

69 ⋆*⋆:⋆ a darling's comfort.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

| A DARLING'S COMFORT |

song: i love you, i'm sorry (live from vevo) by gracie abrams and wildflower by billie eilish.

TW: suicidal thoughts.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

"I FIND THE WEATHER TO BE PARTICULARLY ENJOYABLE THIS MORNING, a perfect opportunity for outdoor tea."

The silence was deafening as Ara raised her cup to her lips, her narrowed eyes peering through the rim to stare at her Headmaster, who seemed oddly at ease. She felt her lips burn from how hot the tea was but she welcomed the feeling, her mind focused on the pain in her mouth rather than her mind and heart, it was a nice break.

She didn't know what Dumbledore wanted, he'd arrived merely ten minutes ago, having sent a letter the day before announcing the fact that he needed a chat with Ara, which he specified was rather important. She didn't have the energy nor the interest to speak with him but she—against her inner wishes—made the effort to get out of her room and greet him. She mostly did it because she thought that having him in front of her would lessen the weight of guilt, she'd scream at him, accuse him of the death of her father and place the entire blame on him. She hadn't done that, she didn't have the vigour, she was tired.

She tried to rid herself of the vicious guilt but she couldn't.

Mrs. Weasley had been delighted to have Dumbledore visit, and had arranged for a table and two seats to be set up outside, taking advantage of the nice weather. Thus, the two were left to discuss matters as the rest of her family mingled inside the Burrow.

Ara set her cup down, growing rather impatient with his small talk.

"I don't mean any disrespect, Headmaster, but why are you here exactly?" she asked tightly.

She reminded herself to be respectful towards the man, after all, he was her Headmaster whether she liked it or not, and in spite of the fact that her anger towards him was still present, she decided to remain civil.

She had also caught sight of his hand the moment he'd arrived and she'd had to cool her features in order to not show her shock. His hand didn't look well, at all. It was ghastly really, it looked as if he'd dipped his it in a black poisonous substance, almost covering it whole, his fingers looked a bit mangled and even a bit rotten. She noted that he looked, well, old, which was an understatement given his age, but there was something different to him, something worn and tired.

She couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.

Was she angry and resentful? Yes. But she also—quite surprisingly—respected him to some degree. It was difficult to be entirely opposed to him, she thought. She couldn't fully dislike him nor could she fully like him.

It was complicated, but she tried to work with it.

"Ah yes," Dumbledore's twinkling eyes finally focused on her. "You see, Ara, I have an old friend of mine, Horace Slughorn, he used to be a Hogwarts Professor as well as Head of Slytherin house. I have recently come to the idea that it would be wise for him to return to teach. I am sure you wonder why I would bother telling you my ideas for future staff, I will be brief. Horace, as I'm sure, will be opposed to my request, but perhaps if I have you accompany me, his mind might be steered into the proposition."

"I don't understand how I could be of any help," Ara shook her head, focusing her stare onto a tree nearby.

"Horace," said Dumbledore, "likes his comfort. He also likes the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he influences these people. He has never wanted to occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat — more room to spread out, you see. He used to handpick favourites at Hogwarts, sometimes for their ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm or their talent, and he had an uncanny knack for choosing those who would go on to become outstanding in their various fields. Horace formed a kind of club of his favourites with himself at the centre, making introductions, forging useful contacts between members, and always reaping some kind of benefit in return, whether a free box of his favourite crystalized pineapple or the chance to recommend the next junior member of the Goblin Liaison Office."