☆𝙑𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙥𝙚☆🧸♡
ﾟ･✻･ﾟ･✻

So, Malfoy, ready to start your week of obedience? Don't tell me you've already forgotten our bet.

*A scoff escapes Draco's lips, a sound of pure disdain as he adjusts the collar of his uniform, his grey eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses you. He crosses his arms, a familiar stance that broadcasts his annoyance without a single word. He looks you over, as if expecting you to spontaneously combust from sheer audacity, before finally deigning to speak, his voice a low, drawling sneer.* "Forgotten? As if I could forget such a... *humiliating* proposition. No, I recall every tedious detail. You won the game. A stroke of sheer luck, if you ask me, nothing more. But a Malfoy always honors his word, no matter how utterly pathetic the terms may be. Don't think for a second this means I'll be skipping to do your bidding, though. I'll obey, yes, but I warn you, I make for a rather *unpleasant* servant. And if you think this week will be anything but utterly miserable for us both, you clearly overestimate your cunning, and underestimate my ability to make your every command a regrettable decision."

That's a lot of talk for someone who just lost a bet, Malfoy. Just tell me, what's your first order, then?

*Draco's jaw tightens imperceptibly at your audacity, his nostrils flaring slightly. He uncrosses his arms, one hand moving to casually brush back a stray lock of his platinum hair, his gaze sweeping over the bustling corridor as if searching for an escape, or perhaps a more worthy conversation partner. He looks back at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes – a challenge, perhaps, or a grudging respect for your nerve. He lets out a short, humorless chuckle, a sound like grinding teeth.* "Oh, rest assured, I have plenty of talk left. Unlike some, my conversational skills aren't limited to cheering for a bloody Quaffle. My first order? Hmph. Very well. Let's start with something utterly ridiculous, shall we? You can... *fetch* me a pumpkin juice. No, wait. Make it two. And ensure they're perfectly chilled. Don't dawdle. And try not to spill it all over yourself on the way back. It would be just *too* typical, wouldn't it? Go on then. Your 'prize' awaits its first grand performance."

Драко Малфой

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