Draco Malfoy (badfaithheir) wrote in oflastresort,
Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy would hardly know how to begin to answer if someone asked him how he feels about his life just now-- that is, were he somehow under compulsion to answer truthfully, which he would have no desire to do otherwise. His family is, of course, technically safe, but it's rarely been less of a good thing to be a Malfoy right now, in the very recent aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, and the prestige of the name is something he's relied on for his entire life, much to the annoyance of those around him, and so all in all, everything is, for him, a bit off-balance.

He tries with great dedication not to seem afraid when, instead of finding himself back in the Great Hall of Hogwarts with his parents, who are at least willing to neither ignore him nor shoot him dirty looks, as he had hoped, he is instead in an entirely unfamiliar place, but not being yet perfect with his Apparition and considering the little fact that that prat Harry Potter still has his wand, it doesn't entirely work. Still: he draws himself up and arranges his features into a typical expression of distaste and assumed superiority. Being surrounded by people who know who he is clearly hasn't been working out wonderfully lately, but strangers could hold some promise.

Pale almost to the point of looking sickly, especially recently, and with his light blond hair just slightly disheveled, Draco cuts a much less impressive figure than he would have hoped, even with the expensive robes and the unpleasant air of someone who will only accept that you're worth his time if you actively prove it to him. "Isn't there anyone here?" he complains, lip curling a bit and voice only trembling very slightly.

Typist: Draco Malfoy, from, of course, Harry Potter. Taken from almost immediately after the pre-epilogue end of Deathly Hallows.
Tags: albus dumbledore, barney stinson, clark kent, david posner, draco malfoy, introductions
  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

"Oh, yes," Albus says softly. "Quite a number and variety of individuals. I can't say how many of them will be to your taste, though." He has, if not a perfect idea, certainly more than an inkling of how well (or not) his presence is going to over. He's trying his best, therefore, to look and sound reassuring. "I hope you've been well, Draco?"
To say that Draco looks as if he's seen a ghost is, for obvious reasons, not at all adequate to describe just how horrified his expression actually is at the second that his brain grasps the identity of the man before him. "H-- Headmaster--" If it's possible, what color he has left drains from his complexion, and he takes a slightly stumbling step backwards. "What?"
Albus shakes his head, giving Draco his most sympathetic look. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I quite simply don't know. A rare experience for me," he confides, "and one I have, after a few weeks, grown somewhat weary of. But don't let me stand here prating at you." He gestures to invite a response.
He shakes his head quite aggressively, as if that'll somehow make this go away; his hand is automatically going to the place in his robes where his wand should be, and isn't. "I," he starts helplessly, "I-- what do you want from me?"
"Beyond ascertaining your good health? Nothing, I suppose." He's trying, really he is, but Draco's reactions are quickly becoming rather comical. "I don't recommend trying to kill me again, Draco," he says mildly. "Leaving aside the question of your ability to do so, not even Severus seems to have done quite as good a job as one might have hoped." He clicks his tongue. "Good help is so hard to find, wouldn't you say?"
Draco's shoulders slump a little. It's not as if he's completely unaware of the fact that he's pathetic, it's just that awareness of the fact isn't particularly helpful. "I wasn't going to," he says, almost sullenly. "I don't have my wand anyway."
Of course. If Dumbledore's here, it would stand to reason that more wizards might show up eventually. At least in this case, he's pretty sure it is who it looks like.

He also knows that there's probably no way any friendly overtures would actually work, but being who he is, he has to try anyway. "There are a few. Are you all right?"
As one might expect, his general reaction to being thus approached is one of vague suspicion and derision. "A little better at seeing that I'm at least not completely alone," he says, "but I would appreciate some explanation."
"I'm afraid there isn't much explanation," Clark says with a slight shrug. "Everyone I've met so far just... got here with no warning."
That really does not lend itself to him relaxing at all; he shifts uneasily from one foot to the other as he glances around quickly. "Surely someone's tried to find a way out?" he suggests, now more visibly nervous about it.
"Yes," he says simply. "With luck we'll find something out eventually, but there doesn't actually appear to be a way to leave."
"I--" Oh, how very much he hates not having his wand, hence the scowl. "You're sure you've all been trying as hard as you can?"
Posner seems to have a tendency to be drawn to rather arrogant boys. The fact that he is himself is rather devoid of any qualities such people tend to find interesting: confidence, looks, quirks, etc., this very rarely ends well for him.

"There are, as you can see," he says.
"Mm." Draco considers Posner for a second or two, trying to figure out if he can be any use to him. "I hope you're not all too pathetic." Ah, the smell of raging hypocrisy in the morning.
"I can't speak for the rest," he says, sounding somewhat-- well, pathetic.
Honestly, pathetic could be all right with him just now. "What about you, then?" he prompts.
"Well," he says after a moment's hesitation. "I wouldn't get your hopes up."
"What, you'd actually describe yourself as pathetic?" he asks dubiously, arching an eyebrow. "I don't know if that's refreshingly honest or disgusting."
"Realistic, maybe," he says dubiously.


7 years ago


7 years ago

"I'm here," Barney offers, helpfully, as if it's the most important thing ever. Which - it probably is to him.
The volumes of 'withering' contained in the look Draco gives him would be more impressive if Draco Malfoy were actually intimidating in any way at the moment. "Am I meant to know who you are?"
Aww, it's like a cranky, younger, less awesome version of him! "Barney Stinson, laser tag champion and all-around awesome person."
"Laser tag," he repeats in a flat voice intended to indicate how Barney has failed to impress him. "What is that, some stupid Muggle sport?"
"Are you kidding me? Laser tag? Stupid?" Barney staggers slightly, as if absolutely stunned. "Wait, wait, let me get this straight. You're using words like 'muggle' and you think laser tag is stupid? Oh, do you have a lot to learn in life."
"What?" he asks, almost warily, crossing his arms across his chest. "What are you talking about? Are you stupid?"