Draco's black cloak whipped around him like rage as he marched his way down the manor's corridors, his steps heavy and purposeful, his expression carved in indifference. He always kept his eyes forward when he wandered these halls, ignoring the vandalised and disfigured portraits of his family and ancestors hanging chaotically on the walls. He still remembered the sound of his mother's painting screaming when they had sliced her head from her bust. He hadn't flinched then either. All in the name of survival.