They stand on the ruins of what once was the small town-hall, wand in hands, surveying the results of their ruthless campaign. It is surprising to Alina to discover that they are both devastatingly beautiful, even despite the destruction that surrounds them. The Darkling is exactly as Alina remembers him, deep eyes and perfectly coiffed black hair, the smile she had known turned into a smirk. The Black Dragon seems to have the same build, same height, shoulders a little bit broader, but sharper features, platinum blond hair and lashes to frame his grey eyes. They turn towards them as they approach and Alina tires to not shiver under their gaze, focusing on Hermione’s warm presence right next to her.