Ritualistic chanting drowned out the rest of Cepheus’s speech. He nodded down to Draco, a slow affirming nod, not unlike the one that Voldemort had given him the night he was given the Dark Mark. Cepheus replaced his mask, and Draco followed suit. The crystal was heavy, and cold on his skin. It hummed with magic as it adapted to meet the curvature of his face, like it was  made for him. 