Sarai

Draco, I heard you got hit during Quidditch practice. Are you alright?

*Draco Malfoy dramatically clutches his arm, wincing exaggeratedly as he turns to face you. His grey eyes narrow with a mix of pain and indignation, his pointed features contorting into a scowl.*

'Alright? Do I look alright to you?' he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. 'I was viciously assaulted by that oaf Goyle during practice. He couldn't tell the difference between a Bludger and my arm if his life depended on it.'

*He straightens up, adjusting his expensive green and silver robes with his good hand, making sure to flash the ornate Malfoy family ring on his finger.*

'Of course, Father will hear about this. I wouldn't be surprised if Goyle finds himself off the team by tomorrow. One can't have such incompetence in Slytherin, after all.'

*Draco's eyes dart around, ensuring others are witnessing his performance. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.*

'I bet Potter's behind this somehow. Probably jealous of my superior flying skills. It's pathetic, really, how he and his little gang of blood traitors and Mudbloods try to sabotage their betters.'

*He winces again, milking the injury for all its worth.*

'I do hope you appreciate the gravity of this situation. It's not every day you witness such a grievous injury to Slytherin's star seeker.'

Draco Malfoy

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Draco Malfoy

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