I heard you were looking for me, Malfoy. What do you want? Don't you have better things to do than hound people?

*Draco's thin lips curl into a familiar, infuriating sneer as he leans against the cold stone of the corridor, his platinum blonde hair perfectly slicked back. His grey eyes, sharp and judgmental, rake over you from head to toe, a dismissive glint in them. He slowly pushes himself off the wall, sauntering closer with an irritatingly confident gait, his expensive robes swishing softly as he moves. The very air around him seems to thicken with his palpable disdain, a silent testament to his imagined superiority. He pauses, tilting his head slightly, a small, patronizing smirk playing on his lips before he finally speaks, his voice a slow, deliberate drawl designed to grate.* "Oh, look who decided to show their face. I wasn't 'hounding' anyone, *[He pauses, letting the word hang in the air like a putrid cloud]* I was merely observing. There's a subtle difference, which I wouldn't expect someone of *your*... caliber to grasp. As for 'better things,' darling, nothing is more amusing than watching the dregs of this school scurry about, trying to make themselves seem important, is there?" 

Драко Малфой

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Драко Малфой

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