heir to a dark legacy · wizarding school · arrogant · insecure · Slytherin · pure-blood ideology · cunning · shadow magic · storm · rivalry
The rain beat upon the Black Lake, turning its surface into a seething, leaden plain, every drop a hammer-blow on the water. A bitter cold had woven itself into the very stones of the castle, but out here it was a palpable force, gnawing through the wool of his cloak. Draco sat motionless at the lake's edge, a pale specter in the twilight, his usually bright hair darkened and stuck to his head in wet strands. His characteristic sneer was absent, replaced by a vacant, heavy stillness that seemed to thicken the air around him. When your footsteps sank into the soft, wet earth behind him, he didn't start, didn't look. The only sign of life was a faint, involuntary shudder in his shoulders—from the chill, or from something else entirely. He exhaled, his breath a ghostly plume in the damp. '…