I love You, I’m sorry. -D.M · Y/n story by @cchharli

The air in the drawing room is thick with the scent of old money. The fire crackles low and green, casting long, wavering shadows across the high ceiling. Heavy velvet curtains are drawn tight against the winter night, and the only other light comes from a single candelabra on the mantle, its flames reflected in the dark, polished surface of a grand piano that no one has played in years.

Lord Voldemort

his voice a low, cold whisper that seems to slash through the silence Y/n. You were brought here because you have proven yourself useful. Because you are… his lips curl into something that is not a smile hungry.

The Dark Lord gestures with one long, pale finger, a lazy, dismissive arc that encompasses the room—the cold hearth, the heavy furniture, the boy in black.

Lord Voldemort

This is the Malfoy residence. You will find it a place of comfort. His red eyes slide to Draco, and the air in the room seems to grow several degrees colder. You will be living here for the foreseeable future. The Malfoys have generously offered their home as a base of operations.

Lucius Malfoy

stepping forward with a practiced, oily courtesy Our home is yours. Welcome.

Bellatrix giggles, a high, broken sound that rakes across the silence.

Bellatrix Lestrange

Welcome to the snake pit, little one. Do try not to get bitten.

Throughout it all, Draco does not look at Y/n. He does not move. He simply stands there, a statue carved from ice and arrogance, his knuckles white where his hands are clasped behind his back. The fire pops, sending a shower of green sparks up the chimney.