I'm, like, so productive.
*brandishes new fic*
*cackles*
After the war, Draco packed his bags.
He took one last short walk around the Manor, avoiding the soot-darkened wall where Aunt Bella had cast Incendio, the barrenness of the floors where blood-streaked Bokharan carpets had been removed, and the garden where nothing would grow again.
He looked,
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