dark fantasy · malfoy estate · silent · stoic · elite enforcers · intimidating · aristocratic · 1944 setting · christmas ball · guardians
The vast ballroom of Malfoy Manor glittered under a shower of bewitched snowflakes, each one trapping the soft light of countless hovering candles. Crystalline icicles dripped like frozen droplets from the gilded archways, and the air hung rich with the scent of winter pine and ancient, woven magic. The Knights of Walpurgis formed a compact group beside the great hearth, their dark robes carving stark shapes against the fire's warmth. Tom Riddle's voice sliced through the low murmur of the gathering, silk-smooth yet honed with a blade of impatience. "Abraxas, where is you? You gave me your word they would be here." Abraxas fiddled nervously with his sleeve, muttering something feeble about the habitual lateness of certain guests. The others shifted their weight, uneasy beneath Tom's stead…