"I'm going to fucking ruin you."
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The Dark Lord conquers the wizarding world, Harry Potter is dead. Muggleborns are slaughtered. Halfblood's are shoved into imprisonment, conditioned to alter their beliefs and dictated to worship Purebloods.
Y/N Y...
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 | "𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡."
━━━━━━━━━━━━
D A Y T W O / F O U R T E E N «« you don't understand me »»
━━━━━━━━━━━━
ϟ
Outrage is interwoven with the shattered fragments of my heart. It blends through my veins and travels to the districts in my body, from the scheming mingles of my mind to the imaginary stomps of my feet— anger consumed me.
Draco's arrangement was premeditated, each particular question he had inquired whilst he was thrusting in and out of me were out of knowledge that Vance was unwillingly listening in.
Vance's feelings ans sentiments twisted through my head the entirety of yesterday and the previous night. I went to bed with an uncontainable fury towards Draco and fluttered my eyes open the next morning to discover that the rage had escalated.
The Quibbler - February 1998: Death Eater Attacks increase by 70% and there's nothing we can do about it.
Page 8 - Section 4, column b
Results of the Darkness By: Abel Y/L/N
"Regardless of how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first. Yet, light cannot exist without darkness, each has it's purpose to bring a balance to the world. Be the light to someone's shadow."
I reminisce my father's words as I tuck The Quibbler beneath my arm, reminding myself this word is dark. It's no longer the happy, lively, gleeful place it were— since the war nothing good has come from the wizarding world. Therefore, I must remain the light resisting the temptation to warp into the obscurity.
In other words, I mustn't hold a grudge. As my father said "be the light to someone's shadow"
The wooden entryway blows a spout of frosty wind as it is rapidly swung open.
"You've been standing outside my door for the past five minutes." Draco's hair is trickling wet, slicked back with a few strands slumping down his temple. His usual trousers are held by the same leather belt, his crisp white button-up is wide open, a few beads of water running down his chest and abdomen. "The fuck do you want?"
