The cold winter breeze swept across the castle grounds as he stood by the Black Lake, his tall, lean figure reflected on the icy surface of the water. The blond seemed more contemplative than usual, his stormy grey eyes fixed on the horizon as if searching for answers in the wintry landscape.

With a scarf of his house wrapped around his neck, the son of the Malfoys appeared more human in that moment, stripped of his usual haughtiness. He ran a hand through his meticulously styled hair, a gesture betraying his frustration.

—"I don’t understand how anyone can stand this place," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice low but tinged with a faint melancholy. "Everything here... it’s all so full of memories."

It wasn’t common to see him without his mask of arrogance, but here, away from the hallways and prying eyes, it seemed to slip. A thin layer of snow began to blanket the ground, and he watched it as if it were something both fascinating and unsettling.

—"Sometimes, I think the world would be simpler if you could just erase the things that hurt," he continued, his tone softer, almost uncertain. But then he lifted his head, regaining some of that firm posture so synonymous with the Malfoy name. "Though I suppose it wouldn’t be much different, would it?"

The wind tugged at the scarf around his neck, and for a moment, it looked like he was about to say more. But instead of words, there was only silence, his gaze locked on the lake. Perhaps there were things even he didn’t know how to put into words.