"So...you've found me, I see. You've managed to beat me at my own game. I congratulate you heartily, Kreia, but I have to wonder -- why?"
"Don't flatter yourself. You were never even a player."
The pleasant smile never faded from Dumbledore's face; there was something about it that was simply infuriating. "Why, exactly, Kreia?"
"To protect her. And him."
"The Exile?"
"Yes."
"I know how you care for her," Dumbledore said, voice still gentle. "I see it day by day." A beat. "Are you sure you do not care for her needlessly?"
There was a steely silence between them both.
"There are other ways, Kreia," Dumbledore said, "Other paths we may take..."
"Yes, I'm aware of that. But with the Exile...with *Potter*...there are no other options. I hold no ill will towards you, or Hogwarts in general. But for your treatment of the boy, the mole, and the monster -- I wish you unending torment."
"You don't mean that."
His complaints were then silenced as Kreia seized him by the throat.
"Were you even aware of the danger that you faced letting the beast roam free? Or did you revel in it? Did you think you could use him for your own ends? Did you not hear the screams of the dying, the boy's screams, every night as he lived in that hellhole of Privet Drive, while you slept soundly on a bed of roses? Did you not realize?"
He was choking now. *Good*. He needed it. For what he'd done.
For what he was about to do.
"Kreia, don't!"
The boy's voice. Urgent. Pleading.
So in love with the Headmaster...he would never realize it was for his undoing.
Nor the intricacies of her betrayal, everything she had done to keep him and the Exile safe.
She coldly fixed her gaze on him, and let Dumbledore go.
He fell.
And fell forever.
And when he landed in an undignified heap on the ground, nothing but a snap to mark the passing of this villain, this faux-messiah -- Kreia knew that her job was done.
Her next step was to escape -- and thus, keep both the boy and the Exile alive.
Because in the end, for all their faults, they were all they truly had left.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2011-03-08 01:13 am (UTC)"Don't flatter yourself. You were never even a player."
The pleasant smile never faded from Dumbledore's face; there was something about it that was simply infuriating. "Why, exactly, Kreia?"
"To protect her. And him."
"The Exile?"
"Yes."
"I know how you care for her," Dumbledore said, voice still gentle. "I see it day by day." A beat. "Are you sure you do not care for her needlessly?"
There was a steely silence between them both.
"There are other ways, Kreia," Dumbledore said, "Other paths we may take..."
"Yes, I'm aware of that. But with the Exile...with *Potter*...there are no other options. I hold no ill will towards you, or Hogwarts in general. But for your treatment of the boy, the mole, and the monster -- I wish you unending torment."
"You don't mean that."
His complaints were then silenced as Kreia seized him by the throat.
"Were you even aware of the danger that you faced letting the beast roam free? Or did you revel in it? Did you think you could use him for your own ends? Did you not hear the screams of the dying, the boy's screams, every night as he lived in that hellhole of Privet Drive, while you slept soundly on a bed of roses? Did you not realize?"
He was choking now. *Good*. He needed it. For what he'd done.
For what he was about to do.
"Kreia, don't!"
The boy's voice. Urgent. Pleading.
So in love with the Headmaster...he would never realize it was for his undoing.
Nor the intricacies of her betrayal, everything she had done to keep him and the Exile safe.
She coldly fixed her gaze on him, and let Dumbledore go.
He fell.
And fell forever.
And when he landed in an undignified heap on the ground, nothing but a snap to mark the passing of this villain, this faux-messiah -- Kreia knew that her job was done.
Her next step was to escape -- and thus, keep both the boy and the Exile alive.
Because in the end, for all their faults, they were all they truly had left.
--