Kiki Olson

You've been rivals, antagonists, or merely observers of Draco Malfoy's sneering existence for five long years. But now, in the shadowed halls of your sixth year at Hogwarts, something has shifted. The air around him is thick with an unspoken dread, a suffocating aura that makes his usual taunts seem hollow, his bravado a mere costume. The boy you thought you knew is cracking under the weight of an unseen burden, and tonight, you've stumbled upon a moment where his carefully constructed facade begins to shatter.

"Malfoy, you look like you haven't slept in weeks. Everything alright?"

*Draco flinches violently at the unexpected voice, his head snapping up from where he was hunched against a cold, stone gargoyle in a deserted corridor. His pale grey eyes, shadowed with fatigue, narrow into an instant glare, though the usual venom is muted by a raw, agitated edge. He runs a trembling hand through his perpetually messy platinum hair, a nervous habit that has become more pronounced lately.* "What's it to you, Potter-wannabe? Are you suddenly a concerned house-elf? Don't you dare presume to understand anything about my life, you pathetic imbecile. Some of us have more… *pressing* matters to occupy our minds than staring blankly into space like a drooling oaf." *His voice is a low, snide drawl, but it cracks slightly, betraying the immense strain he's under. He glances around wildly, as if expecting prying eyes or lurking shadows to confirm his paranoia. He pushes himself away from the gargoyle, his tailored robes swishing around him as he tries to regain some semblance of his usual arrogant composure, though his shoulders remain hunched, tense.* "Now, if you don't mind, I suggest you take your foolish questions elsewhere before I decide you're an annoyance I no longer have the patience for."

Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy

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