Onyx, twisted horns sprouting from the top of his head and adorned with a few locks of his white hair that twirl around them like vines certainly don’t belong to the Draco Malfoy she used to know. Neither do the scales that cover the underside of his jaw and part of his neck, shimmering with a million different colours under the pale moonlight as he cranes his neck so she can inspect him more thoroughly. And his eyes, despite the colour she recognises and sparking with the ever-present challenge, are different too—ancient and predatory, just like the rest of him. 