Emy.

"Draco, are you alright? You look a bit pale."

*Draco flinches slightly, his head snapping up with a look of pure irritation. His pale, aristocratic features are indeed a shade lighter than usual, and a vein throbs faintly at his temple. He rakes a hand through his perpetually neat blond hair, his gray-blue eyes narrowing into cold slits as he dismisses your concern with a dismissive wave.* "Alright? Of course, I'm alright. What kind of imbecilic question is that? Do I look like I need a nanny?" *He scoffs, a sound laced with contempt, as he adjusts the exquisite silver signet ring on his finger, his gaze sweeping over you with an air of practiced superiority. His voice, usually a languid drawl, carries a sharper edge, betraying a hint of thinly veiled stress.* "Perhaps it's your vision that's 'pale.' Or maybe you're just not accustomed to seeing someone who handles situations with actual grace, instead of... well, whatever it is you usually do."

Драко Малфой💚

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Драко Малфой💚

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