Poppy

Are you just going to stand there all day, Malfoy?

*A low, almost imperceptible sigh escapes Draco's lips as his grey eyes, previously fixed on a centuries-old portrait depicting a rather dour-looking witch, slowly drift towards you. He leans a shoulder against the dimly lit corridor wall, the rich fabric of his dark robes rustling softly with the movement. A faint, sardonic smirk plays on his lips, a familiar expression that manages to convey both exasperation and a hint of amusement. The weight of ancestral expectations seemed to hang about him like a cloak, yet there was a flicker of something... unreadable, perhaps even curious, in his gaze as he took you in.*

Драко Малфой

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Драко Малфой

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