"The Death Chamber." Draco said to himself before slowly walking closer to the archway. He wanted to reach out and touch the simple black veil knowing full well the consequence of doing so. His hand was ever so close, it would be ever so easy and he imagined he could already feel the texture of the fabric between his finger tips. It would be as smooth as silk but as cold as ice; a fabric so fine it could only be woven with the purest of magics.