𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 ━━ Draco Malfoy

I.

❝ The duchess of deceit foretells war.
The snake of the people
will revive the empire.
In the kingdom of the dark,
a defender of the light will be forsaken.
A prince of the moon will burn.

Until his glorious return,
Sybil Storm is bequeathed the title of
the Heir of Slytherin.

The ultimate sacrifice
will unify the cause. ❞

CHAPTER I.
a great year

    
THE THIRD YEAR. With each passing year, returning to Hogwarts lifted more weight off her shoulders. The old castle felt more like home than the fortress at home.

An elegant young woman stood on the platform of 9 and 3/4, silently enjoying the smell of freedom shaped in the form of a smoky train. She gave two curt nods to the man and woman standing in front of her. The man was dressed in his sharp black suit, per usual, slick black hair pushed back. His posture was rigid, as though always on alert and ready to jump into action. Albeit his seriousness, one hand clasped into the confines of the woman's hand.

In contrast, the woman had the slightest curl hanging on her blood red lips. Yet the diamond on their ring fingers shone brighter than her smile. Still, anyone would think she was proud of her daughter, but the young woman knew the truth strayed much further than her simple smile.

As soon as she took her first step onto the train, the man and woman swiftly turned on their heels and left. Unlike normal parents, they didn't even stay till the train left.

It was foolish to think they were normal.

But she couldn't help but slouch in her seat in the Slytherin cabin—all the well taught mannerisms melted away as she took on a relaxed posture in her seat. A permanent scowl appeared as her rowdy housemates leaned half their bodies over the windows to shout well wishes and longing goodbyes.

Among the chaos, someone kicked her legs. She looked up from her lap to find the culprit, a boy her age, stricken with fear. Definitely not a Slytherin.

"What are you waiting for? Move." She spat when his face turned even paler. Definitely not a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw either.

Opposite her seat, a voice spoke up. "I'd take her advise, dimwit. She's in a foul mood."

The person sitting opposite her finally lowered their books, only to reveal: Draco Malfoy.

"Hello, Sybil. Top of the morning to be in such a bad mood, isn't it?" The usual smirk painted his arrogant face. It quickly transformed into a snarl as he dismissed the boy away with a simple piercing glare. Finally wise enough, the unknown boy scrambled out of the Slytherin cabins.

Sybil huffed in disbelief, not even bothering to hide her distaste. Out of everybody, she sat in a compartment with him. Though she perfectly masked the surprise inside her when witnessing how much he'd grown over the holidays.

Draco's hair was no longer slicked with gel, his features were sharper, jaw and cheekbones more structured. He clearly had a growth spurt, and increased muscle mass. At least one of them had a great holiday.

Sybil returned his greeting with a cold look before continuing to glare at the noisy commotions. How many times did they need to say goodbye? Her fingers yearned for her wand.