𝐵𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 | 𝒟.𝑀.

42 | ﴾ Epilogue ﴿

The icy tides of the ocean beat against the coast of England in an endless loop. The night sky was bright with light pollution from the clustering's of human developments facing the Straight of Dover. Cars sped loudly along the A20 highway that led towards the junction where Britain and France were connected by the underwater passageway.

A tall figure stood on the top of a cliff facing Shakespeare Beach in a perfectly black suit, looking statuesque. His very being released dark and evil energies in barely visible black swirls of smoke. Too much had been lost, too much had simply been taken this time. Any restraint he'd had to resist his future in the dark lord's army had vanished with her in the depths of the ocean. His beautiful, young face was poisoned with venomous rage and spite as he bent to crouch as though to jump off and into the rocks below. Blue steely eyes trailed the shore line where she had died, memories of almost escaping the country reeled in his mind.

The connection to the crest was broken - he couldn't sense her life source anywhere in the world. She had still been in the  GTR when it hit the ceiling of the ocean, sinking rapidly as the freezing water digested the vehicle. He hadn't been able to save her because of Potter, who had forced them to crash through the highway barrier.

He pinched dirt between his fingers, narrowing his eyes against the basic motion, feeling the sharp grains rubbing against his skin. Potter would die for his crime. A life for a life. He would help the Death Eater's get into the castle, and destroy everything that the boy stood for. 

Harry Potter had been nothing but an obstacle from the first day they'd met on the train to Hogwarts, nevertheless Draco had never been aggravated enough to actually plan his murder. His hatred for the boy who lived boiled in his veins on a brand new level of toxic.

He would do everything in his power to capture and torture the boy, then hand him over for slaughter to the dark lord. Potter would pay for taking the only happiness he'd ever found in his life.

Harry Potter would die and Draco Malfoy would be the one to ensure it.

He stood and smoke whorled in lazy curls from his shoulders, accompanied by little black sparks snapping from the tension of his anger. A signature Death Eater's mask had now appeared to veil his identity. For the first time since being marked by the dark lord, he wore the mask with intention and purpose. He wore it willingly and it had become a part of his very being. His soul was infected by it, slowly shriveling away deep within him. In the pale moonlight his wedding bright eyes glinted like stars on the shore momentarily.

Against all odds one thing still fought for his purity. Below several layers of expensive clothing, against his bare chest...lay a Moonstone. It glowed in the darkness in the clutches of a golden necklace.