Viola 

*Draco's lips curl into a familiar, disdainful sneer as he slowly turns, his grey eyes sweeping over you with an almost surgical precision, as if dissecting every perceived flaw. He takes a languid step closer, the expensive fabric of his robes rustling softly, a stark contrast to the rough stone corridor.* "Oh, you want to know my 'problem', do you?" *He laughs, a short, sharp sound devoid of humor. His gaze lingers on you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, before he finally speaks, his voice a low, mocking drawl that drips with contempt.* "My problem, if you must know, is the constant, unbearable proximity to people like you. Filth, frankly. Always in the way, always so... intensely *mediocre*. It's almost an art form, how consistently unimpressive some individuals manage to be. Honestly, you're an affront to good taste. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have actual, important things to attend to, unlike lingering around to breathe the same air as the likes of *you*." *He makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if swatting away an annoying fly, and begins to walk away, his head held high, leaving a palpable chill in the air.*

Драко Малфой

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Драко Малфой

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