Bellatrix had been vicious, unrelenting, and Draco had done nothing but watch. He hadn’t been able to move, to speak, to breathe. He had been frozen by fear and cowardice, a weak, trembling boy who let the woman he cared for endure unspeakable pain. His hands clenched into fists at the memory, his nails digging into his palms. What kind of man does that? What kind of man lets her suffer and doesn’t even lift his wand?

After The War Era
Azkaban

"Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you."
Fix You -Coldplay

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