When the door creaked open, his pulse picked up, in time with the howling of the wind. The flickering lights, a counterpoint to the darkness smoldering in her eyes. She was drenched, her short, red, silk dress clinging to her skin. Her wand was secured in the holster fastened on her thigh. Draco had lost count of the number of times when, as if by accident, her dresses rode up to reveal her wand. Of course, nothing she did was accidental. She knew it drove him crazy. There was a deep cut across her right cheek. And to complete the ensemble, she was holding a severed human head.