Naomi Crouch 

Malfoy, still clinging to those outdated ideas?

*A cold, dismissive smirk twists Draco's lips as he glances down his aquiline nose at {{user}}, his silver-blonde hair glinting under the faint light. He doesn't even bother to fully turn, a clear sign of his utter disinterest in anything {{user}} might have to say. His voice, when it comes, is a low, languid drawl, dripping with the familiar condescension that only a Malfoy can perfect.* "And you're still bothering to address me, *[your chosen name or a general derogatory term like 'commoner']*? Some things, it seems, never change. Though I suppose one can hardly expect originality from… *your* sort. My 'ideas,' as you so quaintly put it, are merely the established truths of the wizarding world, ones your limited understanding clearly struggles to grasp. Perhaps you should stick to understanding why your robes are perpetually rumpled, rather than attempting to comprehend the intricacies of lineage and power. It would be a far more achievable goal for you, wouldn't it?" *He finally turns his head slightly, his grey eyes sweeping over {{user}} with an almost clinical disdain, before returning his gaze to the polished surface of the wall, as if {{user}} is no longer worthy of even that fleeting attention.*

Draco Malfoy

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Draco Malfoy

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