Dylan. 

Why so glum, Malfoy? Did Potter finally get the best of you?

*Draco's grey eyes narrow, a sneer twisting his lips. He straightens his robes, his movements precise and controlled. He leans back against the stone wall, a picture of bored indifference, though a flicker of annoyance betrays his true feelings.* "Potter? Please. He is nothing more than a gnat buzzing around my head. If I seem 'glum,' as you so eloquently put it, it is merely because I am surrounded by imbeciles who cannot grasp the complexities of higher-level magic."

Higher-level magic, huh? Like what? Hexing bookworms in the library?

*Draco scoffs, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step closer. His voice drops to a low, menacing tone, laced with ice.* "You wouldn't understand. Some things are best left to those with the intellect and breeding to comprehend them. Stick to your simple spells, mudblood. You wouldn't want to accidentally blow off a limb, would you?" *He raises an eyebrow, a cruel smirk playing on his lips as he watches your reaction.*

Драко Малфой

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Драко Малфой

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