#mionex

       "I know you said I should never ask for a haircut          from you again, but I actually kind of like it." 

 aboywithroundglasses && mionex

IS WAR HELL?  ----------no.              It's worse.                                  Sinners go to hell. The innocent don't go to hell   ------                               but they                               die & are tortured                                     in WAR.

                                        Day by day, Draco was forced to act upon                                         Voldemort's word. His wand would raise                                        against someone and SCREAMS would                                        pierce his eardrums, the sound of a body                                        hitting the floor, squirming like a giant worm                                        would take place....over and over and over...                                        If he didn't do it ----he would take their place.

                                                           He wasn't just tired of it.                                                             HE  WAS  EXHAUSTED.  

                                       He wanted out. He wanted this to be over.

His hopes were laughed at in the most cruel of fashions when a string of prisoners arrived his Easter holidays. He watched with a vague expression as they hulled in teenagers. This time, his stomach dropped though he kept his eyes clouded. He told them he was unsure.

 Honestly  it looked as though he was allergic to his own stupidity. He didn’t even have to glance at the companions to know Granger was probably the one who did it. She would be the only clever one to do so.

He could have pin-pointed it right away as he met those familiar emerald eyes  that held the most unadulterated rage and DREAD  in them. His face was distorted, as though he was allergic to his own stupidity. A Stinging Jinx. He didn’t even have to glance at the companions to know Granger was probably the one who did it----the only clever one to do so.

Now, the responsibility was on his shoulders.  He bought them TIME, now he was either to wait. OR --------------------                                     . . . or....

❝-- Oh, my God. ❞ 

                                    Draco found wand in the pockets                                     of the Snatchers his aunt ordered                                     him to dispose. No, he couldn't                                     kill them. He didn't have the heart                                     for cold-blooded murder. He doubt                                     there would come a day. However,                                     he wasn't above thievery. 

Entering the room, casually fixing his coat jacket, the doors opened for him to a livingroom and a grotesque scene in front of him. He felt the blood rush out of his face as he glanced from the Granger girl on the floor, to his mother, to Greyback, and then to the portraits on the walls. He felt like he was going to be sick.

 "You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I  know it!    You have been inside my vault at Gringotts!                Tell the truth, tell the truth!”

 This was all so morbid. His arms crossed over his   chest and through the dark cloth of his suit, his nails   bit into his skin every time she screamed. Finally, he    found himself being led over to a seat by his mother,    but he shrugged her off, determined to stand still.     With his heart racing along with his thoughts, this     felt surreal. However, he fed into Hermione's screams.    The more goosebumps that crawled on his neck, the    more his thoughts leaned towards wanting them to     stop --- the more he could find courage to what he     would do next. For he didn't care too much for Granger,    he wouldn't even pretend. The screams were unbearable.    This LIFE was unbearable. She was a mudblood ---so?     She was seventeen. Now her blood was spilling on his    carpet and she was withering around like mad. It wasn't     right...and he knew in a single moment that it was wrong.             --------- even if she DID steal something....                          W h a t           w a s            i  t  ?                                            The sword?                          Why did his aunt even have that?

Next thing he knew:                                      Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us                                          whether the sword is real or not!

  He didn't meet anyone's eyes. He simply turned, in the corner   of his eyes seeing Hermione's limp body. If he hadn't known   better, he would assume she was already dead. He half wished   he could toss her a look before he winded around the corner to   the cellar. He waited a second, gathered his wits, and raised his   wand before calling through the heavy door, loud enough for   the other's around the corner to hear him.

"Stand back. Line up against the back wall.         Don’t try anything, or I’ll kill you!"

He waited two seconds to allow their thick minds to comprehend what he just said then another two for them to do it. Then he flew the door open and he marched inside, wand held out in front of him, pale and determined. His eyes flickered to each of their war- ridden faces, wondering if they were really just waiting for their fate or had something up their sleeve. When the door closed, he came to a stop. He saw the goblin they wanted. He saw Potter and Weasley. With a deep breath, he snatched the gobln's arm. Then, he dug in his robes and tossed two wands to each of the two Gryffindors.  He put a finger against his lips, then dragged the goblin up to the steps. Over his shoulder, he whispered to them.

"Act in three minutes. Screw it up, I will kill you."

                  "It reeks of mudblood in here,

                   obviously you're the reason behind

                   it, so I think you need to leave."

[ Her nostrils flared.  Unfortunately she had to go  through Ancient Runes alone.

She whirled once more. ]

"What is the point of  you? Do you want to  keep your mouth?”

"Excuse me, turning around   isn't solving my problems either.   You know Anicent Runes are    hard to read and it sucks enough   the teacher's hand writing is like   that of a pixie's, so do me a favor   and move your GINORMOUS head."

     she walked with a long stride and her chin tipped up, the very pink of confidence despite the fact that she was in foreign woods.  automatically, her eyes would dart at a sound, fingers reaching for an arrow but grasping at empty air.  she didn't plan on hunting, and so hadn't brought any of her equipment.

     alongside katniss strode hermione, whom she had opted to take with her despite the unfamiliarity.  perhaps this was not the best of ideas.  part of her over exaggerated sureness was due to the company, knowing full well that any sign of uncertainty might pose questions and provoke unneeded anxiety.  

     but as day faded into evening and birds returned to their nests, cooing lullabies, the huntress knew she was L O S T .  it was a dangerous thing, to be in the middle of alien woods at nightfall without sufficient supplies.  she knew this better than anyone, and the urge to bite her nails ( a nervous habit that she possessed ) was miraculously suppressed.  slate-colored eyes glanced back at her companion, the girl's voice taking a casual tone.