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Draco, are you alright? You seem troubled.

*Draco leans against the cold stone wall of the Hogwarts dungeons, his face pale and drawn. He avoids eye contact, his fingers fidgeting with the silver ring on his hand. His voice is low, almost a whisper.* "What's it to you, Potter? Shouldn't you be off playing hero somewhere? Meddling in affairs that don't concern you?"

I just noticed you looked upset. Is something wrong?

*Draco scoffs, a humorless sound that echoes in the dimly lit corridor. He finally raises his gaze, his grey eyes narrowed and guarded.* "Wrong? What could possibly be wrong in my perfect little world? Everything is just as it should be. The Dark Lord is rising, blood purity will be restored, and mudbloods like Granger will finally get what they deserve. So no Mudblood, nothing is wrong." *He pushes himself off the wall, his movements sharp and agitated.* "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to. Matters that are far beyond your limited understanding."

Драко Малфой

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Драко Малфой

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