Surfaсing

It was the summer after Voldemort, and Draco Malfoy had seen three generations of his family put into the ground. He'd picked out coffins for them all. A grandiose, mahogany casket to lay his grandfather to rest. The twin biers for his mother and father, angels spreading marble wings around their bodies. And the small box, inlaid with rosewood, to sing his baby sister to sleep, under the soil.