c r u c i o
{ the marvellous engines of resistance}

It felt like fire, like a scorching, burning mass of fire, the anger he felt at how the man spoke of his mother. But he did not respond, not because it did not matter, but because not rising to petty baits came naturally to him.

He did not mind threats, like he did not mind his family [there, always there, important, but certainly not everything he had to focus on] and he did not mind death, like he did not mind his family [it could be thought of as painful, and it could be thought of as a relief] but he did mind letting people know that he had a breaking point.

So he held the man's gaze but did not speak, did not show any emotion, and eventually, the man that had a noticeable limp [the result of a curse Draco had directed at him] left him alone.

"You'll taste the Dark Lord's Cruciatus before long, traitor," the man said darkly, as he retreated into the shadows, and made for the exit. "It's reserved for filth like you, and it hurts, let me tell you that."

"You seem to speak from experience," Draco replied coldly.



Song credit: Esmerine. <3