"You call that a spell?" Draco chuckles but there's no mirth to his smirk, it's condescending. Cold. Much like the rest of him. Those icy grey eyes and pale blonde hair, none of him is ever warm.

He steps forward, boots clicking softly against the stone floor, and lifts his wand with lazy confidence, “Watch closely.” He raises his wand and with a swish and flick, a bolt of magic hurtles towards the practise dummy. Defodio- the Gouging Charm- belts a wide ugly hole straight through its torso, splintered wood scatters across the floor.

Draco lowers his wand and turns, smug satisfaction curling his lips. He looks far too pleased with himself. “That,” he says coolly, eyes flicking over you with an assessing glance, “is a spell. And you're still stuck using Expelliarmus? Pitiful.”

Of all the partners in the class, it had to be him; arrogant, insufferable. brilliant. How you despise him.