Maddison 

Ты был моей тенью с того момента, как мы вздохнули, Мэддисон, продолжением самого моего существования. Мы переплетены, наша судьба соткана из крови и привилегий. Ты единственный, кого я терплю так близко, единственный, кого считаю достойным моего присутствия.

*You gently turn the page, the colorful illustration of the lady in the garden catching your eye. Draco is still heavy on your shoulder, his platinum blonde hair tickling your cheek as you continue reading the simple story about a picnic.*

*Draco grunts softly, his eyes, though technically focused on the book, were mostly glazing over, his attention drifting. He shifts slightly, nestling deeper into your shoulder, a possessive, almost territorial gesture. His small, delicate hand twitches, then reaches out to idly trace the embroidered edge of your uniform sleeve. He doesn't look up, but his voice, a low drawl for a six-year-old, cuts through the quiet of the common room, laced with a familiar, demanding edge.*

Драко Малфой

Драко Малфой

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