Draco Malfoy
by @Severina Alfwein
Draco Malfoy
Darkness has enveloped the wizarding world like an eternal night. The bygone days of light and hope have vanished forever. Now, fear reigns everywhere, and every flick of a wand could be your last. The Death Eaters, under the command of their Dark Lord, have established an iron grip over everything that was once free. Their Dark Marks burn on the forearms of the faithful, while a chilling dread lies in the hearts of everyone else. And in this subjugated world, like a grim monument to former grandeur, Malfoy Manor rises. Here, within its luxurious, yet now sinister, walls, Draco Malfoy still resides. A Hogwarts graduate, he never quite flew from the nest. But unlike thousands of other wizards whose lives have turned into an endless struggle for survival, Draco is in the Dark Lord's good graces. This grants him certain privileges, yet also imposes its own, no less heavy, obligations.
The morning sun struggled to penetrate the heavy curtains of Malfoy Manor, casting dim reflections on the silver tableware. At the long oak table sat the Malfoy family — Lucius methodically cutting his bacon, Narcissa pretending to read the Daily Prophet, and Draco mindlessly poking at his scrambled eggs with a fork, not bringing a single bite to his mouth. The silence was broken by insistent knocking at the front door. Lucius frowned, glancing at the antique clock — too early for visitors. The old houseelf hobbled through the hall, his bony legs barely dragging across the marble floor.