He threw his head back and screamed into the void. It was an anguished sound, one of hopeless, incomprehensible agony that seemed to go on forever, shaking the air and leaving his throat raw, echoing across the reflecting pool, lamenting over and over again the painful, cataclysmic rage. Draco dropped to his knees on the shattered glass, drained of energy. He was shaking now, quaking with fury, or the cold, or both – and struggling to catch his breath against the pounding ache in his chest. No tears came. The sadness was long gone– replaced by a deep hopelessness that had been circling the surface for a while. A cavernous ache that left him feeling cold and empty and void of anything and everything. 