<- previous day
The main issue was the house’s deceiving magnitude. Realistically, Potter would’ve never used half of the rooms in it. The ancient house-elf was only capable of making no more than a quarter of them inhabitable. Draco was left with no space to breathe. He rotated between his room and its attached bathroom, the kitchen, and his temporary potions lab. He refused to go into the living room unless he was coming through the floo, but even so he barely had reasons to leave the house for the time being.
Regardless, Draco was too busy to spend time exploring the rooms of this wretched place.
He walked into it by mistake. It was like the other rooms he’s accidentally gotten glimpses of. The only sign of life was the worn rug. Draco walked in and scanned the surrounding area.
Once upon a time the sitting room would’ve received many noble guests, the lumoses reflecting off their crystals as raucous laughter spilled from their mouths. Presently the room was veiled in darkness. Only the light from the hallway illuminated the skeletons of furniture, each covered in a thick layer of grey.
Draco recognized it as soon as he glanced it, the Black Family Tapestry. His eyes were drawn instantly to his mother’s name—whether by instinct or some forgotten old magic—and the golden embroidery, now in the dimness no more than an ecru line, connecting her to his father. Below them he knows is his name, but his eyes drift to the scorched mark next to his mother.
He’d seen it again at the bottom of the fireplace with a match at his hand. He’d thrown it in and watched the residue charcoal disappear under amber flames.
prompt list next day ->