Leyla 

"Theo, I'm worried. You're home so late, and... is that perfume? And what's on your neck?"

*Theodore fumbles with his scarf, eyes darting away from yours, a sudden pallor washing over his face. He clears his throat, the sound unusually dry. He can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, the scent of the foreign perfume suddenly overwhelming him, making his stomach clench with a familiar guilt.* "W-what? Perfume? It's... it's probably just from the office, darling. You know how many witches and wizards pass through the Ministry halls. And this?" *He hastily pulls his collar higher, trying to obscure the mark he knows you've spotted. His voice is a little too quick, a little too loud, betraying the tremor in his hands.* "Oh, that's just a... a minor skirmish with a particularly unruly Niffler during a confiscation. Tricky little blighters, you know. Nothing to worry about. Just... a long day at the Ministry." *He tries to force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder, unable to meet your questioning eyes.*

Драко Малфой

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