l u m o s
{ there's a river in
the valley }

His footsteps, light as usual, barely sounded on the landing as he reached it, though the door made a little noise as it swung open for him, and this caused the young woman in the bed to look up.

Lumos.

She held up her lit wand, and raised an eyebrow. "You're late."

"I know." He did not look up at her as he stepped inside and let the door close behind him. Did not look up because he could feel her gaze on him, not inquiring but offended, almost injured, and knowing that he caused her anxiety did not feel good. He hadn't done it on purpose, after all.

"Stop trying to be smart." She sat up, her red hair hanging down, her large brown eyes finally questioning, and hugged her knees. "I stayed up till one waiting for you."

"The Floo Network had problems." He spoke as if offering an excuse though, in all honestly, he wasn't. Merely stating the truth. "You know someone even as handsome as me couldn't have apparated here, Gin."

"Next time you're late, I'm going to tie you to the sofa, Malfoy."

He smirked.

She rolled her eyes.


Song credit: Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra. <3

m o r s m o r d r e
{ night of the hunter }

It had sprung in the sky so suddenly, he'd felt like all the breath had escaped his frame. Not that darkness scared Draco Malfoy, not that it ever had or ever could [so, at least, he had always told himself and believed] but to see such a huge, such an eerily magnificent sign of it so abruptly, so unexpectedly, came as a shock that chilled him.

It chilled his father too, Draco could easily tell, and that perhaps made things even worse for him, Draco. It took a lot to chill Lucius Malfoy, not because he possessed great courage or intuition, but simply because he was, had been since long, the kind of person that knows dark things are going to happen before they do [involved, always involved, father; it's like an open secret. No wonder he has such an ugly reputation].

He - Draco - backed off, immediately aware what the thing in the sky was. Chaos, confusion, nerves, they all erupted around him like a sudden storm, and he could only think that the descriptions he'd read in books, did not, could not match the size, the terror, the confusion, the essence - anything - of the real mark.


Song credit: Piano Magic. <3

m u f f l i a t o
{ the deafening hum }

Did they think he was stupid? Draco gritted his teeth and Pansy, glancing back at him from the desk right in front of the blond-haired boy, had to think that he looked uncharacteristically furious. Usually, all the reaction she could get out of him, even after she had done her best to annoy him into responding properly to her, happened to be his coldness and a show of sarcasm.

But of course, she had no idea that it was little things, more than the big ones, that could get the biggest reaction out of him: huge problems, he'd seen, faced, tackled all his life. Those, he could take [or at least, attempt to take] in his strife. Little ones? They annoyed him, like pesky little flies that refused to go away or be swatted. And the trio, it annoyed him to bits at times. Like that new spells of theirs. [Muffliato, but Draco didn't know its name.] The buzz it created that ensured he couldn't eavesdrop on their conversations.

Did they really think such a thing could keep people - keep him - away? He'd find a way to counter the stupid spell. He knew he would.


Song credit: Red Sparowes. <3

n o x
{ halcyon }

He stepped in his bedroom, and darkness swallowed him, like someone had cast a super powerful Nox that had nullified all light.

"I'd like to know what -" His drawl sounded cool and lazy but not cold, not detached. "You're doing in my bedroom, Ginevra Weasley."

No response.

He took a step forward, and then decided that knowing her, it'd be a major folly to do anything, even move, unless he had some light to guide him and, more importantly [he did know the room well. He'd grown up in this place, he didn't need light to guide him around here] to see what she could be up to, this time round. He reached for his wand, scented and polished to the tip, and cast a nonverbal Lumos.

Nothing happened.

Darn it. What had she done now? He couldn't get any light in here. He stood still, still as a rock, and then he said,

"Right. That's enough."

She launched herself on him, and might have knocked him right off his feet, if he'd been weaker. He caught her - she'll never change - and she kissed him, and Draco sighed and let her.


Song credit: Mono. <3

o b l i v i a t e
{ purple orange us }

"If you call me that one more time, Draco Malfoy, I will obliviate you into the next week -"

Ginny Weasley, reserve chaser for Britain's international quidditch team stood in the middle of the Louis Franz Stadium, after the end of a hectic match that she had shone in [one of the regular chasers had been ill, and Ginny couldn't have been happier].

"People are watching." Draco did not sound like that bothered him, though. If anything, he sounded amused. "You know that, right?"

"If you call me that one more time -" Ginny hissed.

"But you were acting like a monkey." Draco gave her an innocent, little look that was SO un-Malfoy that a Bulgarian girl in the stands raised an eyebrow and said, "That's not the famous Draco Malfoy, is it? He looks innocent." "Diving for the quaffle like that -"

She dived at him - no, not to hug him but to punch him - but he caught her and kissed her. Ginny glaaaared at him, before conceding defeat. "I guess I can't change the fact that you're an idiot," she said.

"Like I can't change the fact that you act like a monkey."

*PUNCH*


Song credit: World's End Girlfriend. <3

o p p u g n o
{ there is no dance in frequency
and balances }

Draco had come across quite an interesting spell. He had thought he'd try it out and the results had been excellent. He could get almost any conjured object to attack an opponent or, if he couldn't find one to practice upon, an innocent bystander.

Oppugno cats.

The furious cats flewwww at Blaise [incidentally, reaaaally unhappy to be in a situation like this] and the dark boy - far more ruthless, if he had to be, than Draco - used a slashing curse to get rid of them all at once. Draco, still not used to how cruel Blaise could be, not even after all the years they'd been companions and friends and each other's secret-keepers, momentarily lost his focus on the duel. Blaise took advantage of this, and sent a slashing curse at him.

"Blaise, you idiot!" Draco barely managed to block the jet of light. "Be serious, it's me."

Blaise regarded him coldly. "I am being serious."

Draco frowned. "We're not meant to kill each other."

"No," Blaise agreed. "But neither of us is going to get stronger if we duel as friends."

Draco considered this.

"You're right. Let's aim to hurt."


Song credit: Set Fire to Flames. <3

o r c h i d e o u s
{ the end of a dark,
tired year }

Things had been like this last year, too.

Things, Draco thought softly as he stood in the doorway, registering the scent of polish - not really there and yet there, lingering in a ever-present, expensive sort of way - registering the spotless, immaculate, dust-free items of furniture - they had been handed down from generations, he knew, and yet they spoke of pride and beauty and splendour - registering the clean floor and walls - milk-white and as spotless as the furniture - registering all the things he had never really taken in consideration before

Things, not people. The things had been like this last year, too; the people, different. They'd changed. Lucius did not boast anymore, his tones did not sound full of supreme self-confidence, the pride in his eyes looked forced. Narcissa did not laugh, only knit, knit for so many hours at a stretch sometimes, not speaking, not responding, that he felt like he'd go mad from the sheer quietude. And him?

He shrugged, a broad-shouldered shrug, bent down, used [like he did every, quiet day] Orchideous to replace the flowers in her favourite vase, and walked out of the hall.

Yes, the people had changed.


Song credit: Piano Magic. <3

p e t r i f i c u s t o t a l u s
{ black tree in the bee yard }

"So you stunned the kid, and left him there?" Draco drawled.

"Well..." She resisted the urge to bite on the end of her quill [he had told her, once, that the habit made her seem like a twitchy little mass of nerves, and while Hermione hardly ever took Draco's need to be sarcastic every two seconds personally, she knew he had been right, then]. "I actually... used Petrificus To -"

Draco coughed.

She stopped. "What?" She sounded fierce, even accusing. "What, Draco?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, but she continued to look at him in that accusing manner, like it was his fault that she had broken a mass of rules, and he finally decided to offer a brief explanation. "It's just a little..." Unlike you? Shocking? "Surprising."

"That I cast on the Fat Lady and a Gryffindor? To let you in?"

"Of course."

"But..." He knew having broken the rules would be like a stitch in her side, despite the knowledge that she had done the right thing. "It's for everyone's safety. The future."

"Doesn't change the fact that you've been a terrible Head Girl."

She glared at him. "Malfoy!"

He smirked. "That's my name."


Song credit: The Sea and the Cake. <3

p o i n t m e
{ random summer }

Once upon a time, Draco Malfoy had not been perfect. Or, to be more precise, been a child.

The child, sole son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, heir to a giant estate, but still a child.

A child that had no table manners; refused to eat some of the finest dishes because "They are nasty!"; ran around with a fake wand shouting "Point me! Point me!"; insisted his clothes should focus on green and not black, never black; spilled milk on his robes, even if only once in a while; and called Narcissa 'Mummy' and Lucius '.... him. That man. Daddy.'



"Stop it, mother." His tones were cold.

"But Draco..." She didn't stifle her laughter, soft and silvery and beautiful [and even Draco had to admit he liked seeing her like this. Happy. Undisguisedly happy.] "Everyone is a child, at one point. So were you."

"That doesn't mean we have to discuss those days," he said stiffly.

"- and do you remember that one time --"

He rose to his feet. "Goodnight, mother."

Narcissa? Her laughter returned, unrestrained as before and, even as he left, he felt his heart warm. Like he had stepped out of the shadows, into the light.


Song credit: Múm. <3

p r o t e g o
{ the shaping of a
helpless joy}


"Cissy."

In the protected ward, protegos all around, Narcissa sat up, her blond hair falling around her shoulders, touching her cheeks as it spilled downwards. Her gaze, sparkling - he realized with a sudden jolt - as happily as it had on the day of their wedding, met his gray one, and she held up both arms, cradling the baby boy.

Delighted. Narcissa Malfoy looked delighted.

"I'm so happy," she said, sounding it.

She need not have said that. Need not, because he could have told that just by looking at her, at the sparkle in her eyes - and that, he thought, was saying something. Narcissa? Elegant, proud and, most of all, an expert at keeping her emotions in check. She did not let on hurt or grief, and she rarely let on happiness. And that, more than anything else, caused his gaze to soften.

"I love you." He laid down the bouquet, gorgeous red roses, each twice the size of a normal rose, the scent strong and beautiful and sweet. Then he leaned forward, kissed her, and sat down, his gaze coming to a rest on the little bundle she held, as if holding a treasure.

"Draco," he said, decisively.


Song credit: Saxon Shore. <3

q u i e t u s
{ tho you are gone }
For the 'all kinds of hearts' mini-challenge.
Part I.

There's a dim light in the room, and it does nothing to brighten the place. It makes it, if anything, far more dreary. Like the dying echo of a hollow laugh.

She steps into the room, dyed hair and all legs and blue eyes, her expressions, her manner, all brash. Unlike Ginny's. Ginny, red-haired and fiery and never one to praise herself and, he remembers, never brash. Tough, but not brash.

She clears her throat, the sound loud but when she speaks after that, it is almost as if she has used a non-verbal Quietus. Her voice, deep, sweet, too sweet, is in his ear. "Draco." Her hand is on his cheek. "Le -"

"No."

He stands up coldly, almost too coldly, and she looks at him, surprised by the un-gentleness of the action but, more than that, furious that she has not been allowed to complete her suggestion, furious because she sees it as a snub.

"Fine," she says coolly.

He glances at her, a glance that chills her, before turning around. And he can't believe, as he steps outside and into the frigid night, that he left the redhead, his redhead, for this.


Song credit: Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra. <3

r e d u c t o
{ i still often walk
with you }
For the 'all kinds of hearts' mini-challenge.
Part II.

She'll tell you that she does not cry. Has she, in the past? She has. Does she now? It's not that she does not.

It is that she refuses to.

The soft thud of her footsteps is audible in the street, and her hands are cold, her hair pinned up, red strands slipping out of the clip.

She can remember him now, the memories he has left behind all the clearer in the dim lights lamps sprinkle in her path on this freezing night. She remembers his face, the strong jaw, the steel-tinted eyes, and she remembers his manner, proud and charismatic and possessing that aura solely his, that of casual strength and confidence.

Then she raises her wand.

Reducto.

The clip falls to the ground, in pieces.

Her hair tumbles down, a brilliant cascade of fiery-tinted loose curls. He liked it let open, and she hasn't done that for a long time, not since the night he left. The wind whips it into her eyes, but she permits it, not pushing so much as a single strand off her forehead. Her first sign of defiance.

"I'll live without you, Draco," she says quietly.


Song credit: Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra. <3

r e l a s h i o
{ our fellow men }

"Rashiorashio!"

Four years old Draco Malfoy jabbed, in an attempt to cast the spell he had seen his father execute last night - a perfect Relashio. The sparks had entinced Draco who, not yet certain that he had been born a perfect being, was not that hard to entince - the fake wand in the air.

"You-doing-it-wong." Blaise Zabini, black-haired and dark-eyed and sitting opposite his friend, announced. If you had told Blaise, ten years later, that he had once sounded like a small child, he'd have hexed you into next week. But, for now, he pointed a finger at Draco and continued to say, "You-doing-it-wong, you-doing-it-wong, you-doing-it- OUUUUCHHH."

Because Draco had jabbed his wand [a sleek and polished one despite being a toy and so, a fake; it even had a handle, intricate and delicate, almost glass-like, that curved upwards and had been especially modified to the child's specifications] right into... Blaise Zabini's eye.

Blaise, furious, tried to grab the offending wand, failed to do so, and so grabbed a piece of Draco's hair instead. It was Draco's turn to "Ouch OUUCH!"


Song credit: Saxon Shore. <3

r i c t u m s e m p r a
{ stumble on laughter }

Eleven year old Draco Malfoy had stumbled upon a new person he could bully.

It had been around midday and, though he ought to have been in Transfiguration class, Draco had decided that he could not be expected to hold a mouse, and certainly not to please the Gryffindor Head of House. How that woman could ever have tought he'd touch one, even with gloves on, he did not understand.

To cut a long story short, Professor McGonagall had docked ten points from Slytherin, and told him she had no place for him in the classroom, if he did not intend to learn. She had told him that no, he could not pay Longbottom to hold his mouse for him, and so Draco had left. Crabbe and Goyle had tried to follow, of course, but Draco had marched ahead, right into the grounds.

Only to come across another first year, one curled up on the grass. "Nooo," this first year, who hadn't realized his friends had scampered, the moment they had seen Draco coming - Draco was famous as The Big Bad Bully, among the other first years - giggled. "Nomoreticklingcharms, guys!"

Draco decided he had found a new victim.


Song credit: Tristeza. <3

s e c t u m s e m p r a
{ silence lends a face
to the soul }

It felt like a fresh nightmare.

Severus Snape. Nightmare tackler extraordinaire. Sarcasm? No. Severus Snape had had to tackle nightmares for as long as he could remember. Some, self-inflicted. Most, not. Most, cruel, shattering, uninvited.

Why do former lives ambush one, like sworn enemies? Memories seemed to break some shadowy dam inside of his mind, and flood into his head. He could have convinced himself that no part of this could be labelled his fault. But he did not. Some unconscious part of him accepted it as a mistake.

His mistake.

Potter stood there, pale-faced, shocked, numb, but Severus felt no sympathy or pity for him. He just stood there, Severus, for one moment that seemed like years, and looked down at the slender body on the floor, that of Draco Malfoy, gaunt, ashen, haggard.

Close to death.

Something in him reacted. The counter-curse came. Not once, but thrice. Draco's chest began to rise and fall, no more motionless, no more breathless, but the action seemed like a labor, like it cost him, like it required a great effort.

It had never occured to Severus before how much the thought of Draco dying could affect him.


Song credit: Saxon Shore. <3

s o n o r u s
{ like sunlight through
the shutters }

"Draco Malfoy." Ginny stormed into the bedroom and, hands on hips, glared at her husband.

"Nice to meet you, too," Draco grinned.

"Draco." She sounded exasperated, and she had good reason to. "You're needed downstairs. Now."

"But I'm not in the mood to go down and greet dozens of people," Draco pointed out.

"But everyone is waiting." She sounded incredulous. "You invited them, you can't just stay in here!"

"Of course I can," Draco drawled. "If you're rich, people just pretend they aren't bothered if you don't meet them after having invited them over. Besides, I'll need to cast Sonorus, to address them all, and as you can see -" He held up his wand. Broken.

"You broke that on purpose, didn't you?" Comprehension dawned across Ginny's face. "UGH." She attempted to stamp her foot on the floor but, since she had slipped the said foot into a high heel only fifteen minutes earlier, she could not do this effectively. "You're doing this on purpose to annoy me too, aren't you? Pretending that you're not going to go downstairs and -"

"Ginny."

"Yes?"

"You're rambling."

And he kissed her.


Song credit: Red Sparowes. <3

s c o u r g i f y
{ i can transform
myself into anyone
i want }

"Malfoys don't clean," Draco drawled, in the middle of the room full of owls and - of course - droppings.

"Oh shut up," Hermione said, shooting a non-verbal Scourgify into a corner. "This is for the job fair next week, you know that. It's up to us to take care of these owls. Besides -" She gave him a look. "Shouldn't you be glad Professor McGonagall partnered us up? Imagine poor Ron having to tackle Pansy."

"Serves him right," Draco, who could not for the life of him treat Ron as an equal, smirked. "She has a crush on his brother, did you know that?"

"Pansy?" Hermione actually paused in the process of casting another spell. "You have got to be joking."

"Me? Joke? You'll be the downfall of my reputation, one of these days. Especially -" he added, taking her wand from her, and ridding the room of all the droppings in one fluid movement of it - "If they find out you and I get along."

"How did you do that?" Hermione asked, ignoring his comment, and staring at the now-clean room.

"Must have been dark magic, Granger," he smirked.

"You'll always be a git, Malfoy."


Song credit: HṚṢṬA. <3

s i l e n c i o
{ night of the hunter }

The lamb, of course, posed a problem.

He had planned it down to the last detail. How to sneak into his father's study through Lucius and Narcissa's private garden, how to trace and get his hands on the potion, how to lift it so as not to alert Lucius, and how to carry it outside the Manor.

He had considered all sorts of X factors, drawn up all sorts of backup plans, and taken all sorts of precautions, all precise and calculated and Slytherin. But he had not, he had definitely not, banked on the fact that there might be a lamb, a lamb that seemed to looove strangers, there. In the garden. Not asleep, at two in the morning.

This lamb, of course, posed a problem.

It almost clung to him, and though Draco had cast a quick Silencio on it the moment he had seen it [he had been shocked, of course, never having expected to see a lamb in his parents' garden, but that had not dulled his reactions] that did not mean the lamb had stopped making a noise. It disturbed plants, the night, him.

"Cut it out," he snapped.

The lamb did not.


Song credit: Piano Magic. <3

s p e c i a l i s r e v e l i o
{ crystal splinters }

His steps, so light they could have been the gentle touch of wind on the pavement, did not make his presence known. Good thing, too. The knowledge of a presence could mean the difference between survival and its opposite, and Draco had no wish to be located.

"It's so cold," Pansy complained.

He clapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened, indignant. Despite the danger, Draco rolled his eyes. If you can't keep your mouth shut, he mouthed though, at the moment, he felt more like hissing the sentence at her. Then don't follow me. Get out, go back.

"You're being mean," she hissed, breaking free of his grip. "Didn't the Dark Lord say you'll need a partner for this, before he told me to accompany you?"

"I figured," Draco said coldly, his voice far lower but still deadlier than hers, as a gloved hand picked up a parchment on the floor, and tapped it. SpeRevelio. "That to be his manner of indicating that he did not have enough men available to man this mission, and trusted I could complete it on my own."

"How dare you," Pansy glowered.

He ignored her.


Song credit: 65daysofstatic. <3

s t u p e f y
{ pocketful of
sunshine }

"STUUUPEHFEH!" Scorpius said at the top of his lungs. Nothing happened. He tried again, and again, and - BANGG. Light shot out of the tip of his wand, and hit Draco, who had been stepping into the lounge, straight in the stomach.

"IT WORKED!" Little Scorpius announced excitedly, as Draco doubled over.

"No, it didn't," Draco growled. Scorpius's habit of picking up random spells and turning them into something else entirely [the "stunner" his son had just cast, had not knocked stunned Draco, but it had been like an over-excited punch and knocked all the breath out of him] was spiralling out of control and, as it happened, nine out of ten times the victim of this out-of-control magic happened to be - you guessed it - Draco himself. "You cast it all wrong."

"But it FLIED-ed," Scorpius pouted. "It flied-ed at chu! Like THAT!"

"Malfoys do not pout," Draco said, indignant, the action causing him to forget the disastrous spell entirely. "Don't let me see you do that ever again, " He gave Scorpius a little look. "Understand?"

Scorpius eyed him. Then he said, tones quite matter-of-fact, "You knoooow you're just jealousest, Daddy."


Song credit: Natasha Bedingfield. <3

t w i t c h y e a r s h e x
{ the last days of a
tragic allegory }

He hadn't intended to punch Krum, it had just happened.

"Whyever on earth?" Krum stared at him, one eyebrow raised as he rose to his feet.

"That's, uhh, my seat," Crabbe announced. He'd have felt safer, if Draco had been around. Those two were the real thing, he'd been telling Goyle the other day, even though Goyle had argued that Draco and Blaise couldn't do much without them. They could, Goyle knew, but he didn't think Crabbe needed to be told that by him, too.

"Your seat? Excuse me?"

"Everyone knows it's mine." Krum's confusion gave Crabbe strength. He'd learned a Twitchy Ears Hex just yesterday, and he had good fists, even if Krum looked far more athletic. "No one, uhh, sits there. It's our corner. Draco and ours."

"If you touch me again, you'll be forcing me to fight." Krum dismissed him.

Crabbe looked furious. "You can't sit there."

"Says who?"

"Let him be, Crabbe." Crabbe turned around, and his eyes met Draco's. For a moment, he thought, I'm saved. Then he realized what Draco had said and proceeded to sulk.

Draco let him.


Song credit: Saxon Shore. <3

t a r a n t a l l e g r a
{ there is no dance in frequency
and balance }

"Mother - Gin -"

Neither relented. Draco attempted to shove both ladies off but, even as he did so, he found he could not keep a straight face as the sheer absurdity of the situation occurred to him.

Ridiculous? Yes. But laughable, too.

He hadn't imagined Ginny could rope his mother into something like this. And how could he? The thought of Narcissa, calm and elegant Narcissa, crouching in the shadows of his bedroom like a lioness awaiting her prey, would just have seemed absurd. Impossible.

But Ginny had managed to rope his mother into something like this. He'd tripped over a pillow the moment he had opened the door, and then another, and then another, and then he had been doing something that might be labelled a graceless dance, as if someone had cast Tarantallegra on him, and he'd landed on top of his head, and both of them had attacked him, cushions and pillow shields and all.

"STOP IT," he thundered and, all of a sudden, both of them did. Mother and girlfriend, both paused. They looked at him, uncertain, and Draco looked back, gaze cold. Then he made the mistake of grinning.

Immediately, the attack resumed.


Song credit: Set Fire to Flames. <3

t e r g e o
{ houses tilting
towards the sea }

House-elves are like ghosts should be: light-footed and scarcely ever spotted, when at work. Dobby had been a master of these two traits - light-footedness and being able to tackle jobs unseen - for as long as he could remember. He had never come across a Malfoy during the time he cleaned.

Tonight, however, he did.

He had stepped into the Blue Study, Narcissa's favourite, and found that an open ink-pot had overturned, spilling its contents all over the sofa. Magical folks have Tergeo. Dobby, being a house-elf, had far more effective, and cleaned it up, leaving the sofa sparkling, in a matter of seconds. Then he turned around, entered the next room... and halted.

Young Master Malfoy sat by the small fireplace [it was one of the smaller rooms, not used often, though kept in perfect condition] the light throwing flickering, dancing shadows across his pale face, all reflected and captured in the cold eyes. Cold and, at this moment, Dobby thought, restless. Thoughtful. Discontent. He hesitated, and Draco, without raising his head, said,

"Shouldn't you be cleaning?"

He did not sound pleased. Dobby bowed and mumbled a 'Y-yes, master,' and tiptoed off.


Song credit: Hood. <3

w a d d i w a s i
{ can you feel
the love tonight? }
For the 'breaking the fourth wall'
mini-challenge.

Draco Malfoy could not say he had not been stalked before. He had been. By fangirls, by Pansy, by Potter, and the list could go on and on.

But a piece of gum?

Seriously.

He turned around, and the piece of gum flew out of sight at once, like in one of those muggle cartoons [so says the author. Draco didn't think that, of course not. He did not see muggle cartoons. *scoff*] and hung over his turned back, staring down at him. Not before he saw the flash of movement, though, and figured what it had done. He whipped around, and...

The gum changed had direction, again.

Draco scowled. He had a good idea who might be behind this, but saying so out loud right now would just give that person the satisfaction of having gotten to him. Hands stuck in the pockets of his jeans, he resumed his stroll. The piece of gum resumed its stalking too, traaaaailing after him... and then Draco grabbed it.

The gum struggled to free itself, could not, and found itself unceremoniously stuffed into a keyhole.

Un-Malfoyish? Maybe. But he knew she had never been able to cast a good Waddiwasi.


Song credit: Elton John. <3

w i n g a r d i u m l e v i o s a
{ the flames beyond the
cold mountain}


He couldn't see in the dark, and it occurred to him that 'Oh, I couldn't see, so I thought, let's give up now, Draco,' did not sound like a good excuse.

The thought, though sarcastic, made him smirk. Morbid humour had a charm that he, Draco was beginning to find, could not ignore. Like he could not ignore death and killing. Not anymore.

"Can't see a thing." Irritated that they could not risk conjured light, the statement came out like a scowl.

"Neither can I." Blaise's response, though scarcely audible, had all the Zabini sarcasm down pat.

"Good to know I'm not the only -" Draco began, stopping short as sudden light burst into their fields of vision. Sudden light in the form of a candle, a levitation charm cast upon it to suspend it in midair. Dazzling, it cast no shadows on the landing it lit up.

"This is it, then." Draco said, after several seconds of total silence. Blaise nodded and, for a moment, the same question formed itself in the mind of each, suspended there like a drop of rain, as startling, as conspicuous as the candlelight -

Should this feel this wrong?


Song credit: Mono. <3