MALFOY, draco lucius

[Draco Lucius Malfoy]

last week found me living for nothing but deadlines,

draco lucius malfoy



”Make you say oh my
Feels just like I don’t try
Looks so good I might die
All I know is everybody loves me''

[/font][/size]

with my dead beat sky but, this town doesn't look the same tonight

name;;

entymology;;

nicknames;;

age & birthdate;;

former house;;

blood status;;

occupation;;

sexuality;;

species;;

face claim;;

wand;;

broom;;

social class;;

these dreams started singing to me out of nowhere,

height;;

weight;;

distinguishing features;;

clothing style;;

physical appearance;;

and in all my life i don't know that i ever felt so alive,

likes;;[/b]

dislikes;;

[/i] in fields. He doesn’t call them Mudbloods to their face, but Merlin, he’s probably thinking it. Prejudices die hard, and Draco knows the destruction it caused, but Merlin...he couldn’t help it.
♛Blood traitors - Basically just like Mudbloods. Draco doesn’t like them, because most of them don’t like him. He insulted them for half of his life though, so why should they? It all just comes down to bad blood, though that’s to be taken more figuratively than literally.
♛Losing or Failing - This is something Draco can’t stand, especially when he loses to people that he deems insubordinate and unworthy. It just makes Draco very sour, and is something that he would prefer to avoid. Failure is even worse than losing though, especially where his father is concerned.
♛Gryffindors - Especially the former ones that were in his year at Hogwarts. Draco always hated how they acted so superior and thought they know everything, just because everybody “loved” their stupid house. Plus, they barely ever got in trouble for the crap they pulled, in his humble opinion. Draco doesn’t think they deserve the attention they get.
♛Imperfection (his own) - As for this, Draco only dislikes imperfection of his own body. He hates it when he doesn’t look like he’s wearing expensive things, or when he looks unkempt and disgusting. Those are the only things, in Draco’s opinion, that could ever be imperfect about him though, so he never includes his personality in this category.
♛Humiliation - This almost goes completely hand in hand with failure, among other things. Draco just hates the sickening feeling he gets whenever he's been humiliated, which is why he avoids it as much as possible.
♛Insubordination (towards him) - Draco is rather used to people taking his orders, if only because he is a Malfoy, and rather dislikes it when people refuse to listen to him when he gives them orders.
♛Death - Draco doesn’t want to die, and he doesn’t want to think about the people that are close to him dying either. The war was enough, and he really doesn’t want to see any more dead people on the floor of his family home.
♛Children - Ahaha no but really. They scare him more than he dislikes them, but for the life of him, when they scream and cry it just makes him want to Avada someone. Sort of goes against his ‘no dying’ policy, but bugger all. Is it really that hard to shut them up?[/ul]
strengths;;

weaknesses;;

habits;;

boggart;;

erised;;

dementor;;

patronus;;

amorentia;;

[/i] tell the difference between the green and red ones by scent. Don’t doubt him.
♛Broom Polish - This bit comes from his days as a boy. The scent always comforted him, reminded him of better times where his father would take him out and actually spend time with him and teach him.
♛Spices - It’s a scent that used to inhabit the Manor before the Dark Lord, and is slowly (finally) beginning to creep back in. Draco thinks it has something to do with his father’s liking of sharp things, but Draco’s found enjoyment in the scent as well.[/ul]
overall personality;;

[/i]? That being said, however, Draco does tend to show respect for most adults, unless he feels they do not deserve it. He was taught to be a Malfoy in every way, shape, and form, and has no intentions of throwing away the meaning behind his name because of lack of respect.

As all Malfoy men know, with their name comes great responsibility. Draco knows this as well, and does all he can to uphold the Malfoy name. Formerly that was shown to be taken to the extreme of his own willingness to do the Dark Lord’s assigned mission back in his sixth year. Draco believed he wouldn’t fail, and when he did it was like his own perfect little world had shattered around him. It hadn’t been just a simple test in school that only mattered because he continuously felt humiliated every time Granger beat him and his father looked on with disapproval. No, this was an important task...but nonetheless, he failed. The crushing disappointment was only countered by the breath of fresh air he experienced when the Dark Lord had allowed him to live. He is by no means a stupid boy; Draco knows when things are heated, and when he needs to be extra cautious. If it was up to him, he’d always choose to save his own skin and fight another day, rather than jump into battle and get killed without cause. He considers this smart, which only builds on his overinflated ego.

A final, exceptionally large part to his personality is the part that people don’t ever get to see. Draco, oddly enough, can be a moderately caring individual underneath his rough exterior. He doesn’t like admitting it, nor does he like showing it, but he can be. He would protect his family and close friends at all costs, though he’d try to weasel them out of any dire situations before he went and outright put his life on the line. Also, Draco has sort of developed into a workaholic. It helps distract him from thinking of the war (something he doesn’t want to face or think about, and really hasn’t, even in the few years following it). He simply thrusts himself into his work on most nights, staying late and then coming home and getting a minimal amount of about five hours of sleep before doing it all over. Even on his days off, he takes his work at home. Draco says it’s so he’ll make his family name better in the eyes of society - really, it’s just a coup so he doesn’t have to think about it and won’t drag himself back to the comforts of Firewhiskey.[/ul][/font][/size]

here we are now with the falling sky,

mother;;

father;;

siblings;;

pets/familiar;;

other importance;;

history;;

[/i] hard, but it all seemed like it was to be for naught - until the night the Vanishing Cabinet finally worked. Draco was so gleeful he had let out an excited whoop, but then...things had gone bad again.

He had come so far. Draco had Dumbledore right where he wanted him. He had disarmed the feeble old codger and had him cornered, but Merlin. For the life of him, Draco couldn’t utter the words. He knew them - oh yes, he knew them so very well. But he just couldn’t. No matter how many times his brain whispered them, his trembling hand and voiceless throat wouldn’t let him finish the job. So, Snape had done it for him, and Draco had gotten a Crucio from the Dark Lord as his reward. Oh yes, it was a reward, because as the Dark Lord reminded him, had he not completed at least part of the task, Draco would’ve been lying dead, sprawled at his feet with blood streaming out every pore of his body.

Seventh year was horrible, absolutely horrible. The Death Eaters controlling the school was a bad experience. Draco could hardly torture anyone, and he was always jeered at because of it. He felt like a pathetic little Hufflepuff more often than not, and he always had to grit his teeth to keep his place in mind. Malfoys had no status now, and as such, there was no way he could get out of it. No way he could shut the other Death Eaters up, or get the Carrows off his back for good. His only reprieve were the holidays, and those were even worse because the Dark Lord still called Malfoy Manor his headquarters. Draco barely ever left his room, and the one time he was forced out...well, he was met face to face with the infamous Golden Trio.

They wanted him to identify them, but Draco didn’t want to. Of course he knew it was Potter and the other two. It would’ve been a hard thing to miss. Sure, Potter looked like the backside of a Blast Ended Skrewt, but there was no mistaking Granger or Weasel. Draco had sort of affirmed that it was them, and then had stood next to his mother and had dug his nails into his palms so hard it hurt as Granger was tortured by his aunt. Draco had forced himself not to flinch away, and it was only the light pressure from his mother’s hand on his wrist that kept him from actually doing so. But they had escaped - and bloody Harry Potter had snagged his wand. Draco was moderately pleased that they had gotten away, but when Potter had taken his wand...well. Draco was rather pissed, needless to say. Actually, pissed was a mild term for how he felt.

The rest of the year was much the same, up until the final battle at the beginning of May. Draco had fought on no real side, just working his way through the castle to keep himself alive. He tried to confront Potter the Wand Thief, but nothing productive or helpful came from that. Very long story short, Draco and his family had ended up huddled on a table in the Great Hall. Narcissa had Draco in a death grip, but he didn’t mind. Lucius had been sitting more stiffly, and Draco knew it was because he was waiting the moment that the ‘good guys’ would cart him off to Azkaban for his misdeeds. Draco didn’t want to think about it.

Things got slightly better for him after that. Thanks to his mother, the family had only faced one issue with the law. They had had to pay war repercussions, but that was no problem. The price was considerably small too, so it only emptied one of their vaults at Gringotts. Draco had felt instantly better, because he most certainly didn’t want to be tried in front of the Wizengamot. That would’ve been terrifying, he wouldn’t lie. In any case, life was still alright for the Malfoys. They just had to build their family name back up again, but Draco...had problems with that, at first. Potter had given him back his wand after a couple months, thankfully enough, but Draco still hated him with a passion.

During the first months after the battle, Draco seemed to think it would be a good idea to drown himself in alcohol to solve his problems. He drank at least a bottle of Firewhiskey every day, if not more on worse days. He was plagued with nightmares (some of which were probably brought on by the drinking) and his life was just in the shitter, quite literally. Draco probably would’ve been dead due to liver failure had it not been for Constance. She had moved in and apparently wanted to help him fix his shitty life, get it back on track, that kind of thing. Well, she’d dragged him away from the alcohol (after a lot of sulking and angry words) and had even shoved him to getting a job that he thought he’d never be able to get.

Being an Unspeakable was something Draco rather enjoyed doing. People still didn’t trust him, but it didn’t matter, because they didn’t really have to - at least, not as much. Not with this job. He was rising the ranks in his status at work, and the donating to numerous charities and St. Mungo’s was beginning to repair the family name. Draco’s goal was to get his family back on top, and so far, that goal seemed to be just within his grasp.
[/ul][/font][/size]

and the rain, we're awakening.

alias/nickname;;

rp experience;;

code phrase;;

rp sample;;

Draco felt almost numb as he walked through the forest, not really paying attention to anything around him. It was probably a bad idea, he knew, simply walking around somewhere that was off limits to students. He shouldn't have been wandering around the forest, but oh well. What was he supposed to do with that now? Nothing, nothing at all. If he got caught, then he got caught. Snape would probably deal with it, and he'd get off scott-free just like normal. So, for the time being, Draco wasn't at all concerned about getting caught. He was barely even concerned with where he was going. No, what Draco Malfoy was concerned with was the dark cabinet that lay lurking underneath a cover in the Room of Hidden Things. Draco had nearly run to the forest in hopes to escape, hoping that the darkness and silence would help his thoughts calm, and make his mind clearer. So far, it had done none of those things, and had instead served to just make him feel like his own brain was closing in on himself, and that he was completely and utterly trapped no matter which way he turned. Draco was in quite the predicament, he was soon beginning to realize.

He had repeatedly tried to think of numerous ways to make the bloody thing work, but so far Draco felt he had been wildly unsuccessful. Nothing had made it through yet, not even the tiniest damned inanimate object Draco could find. They didn't go anywhere, and that most certainly wouldn't do. He needed to work harder and faster, because sooner than he thought it would be Christmas, and Draco knew he'd be forced to report then. He'd have to have made progress, and Draco had to make sure that progress would be enough to make the Dark Lord happy. Sure, it was only September, but as the months turned, Draco's clock would tick faster, and he'd lose out on time and his life would probably end before he had a chance to change the Dark Lord's mind. But how - how - was he supposed to get the bloody thing to work. Draco's fist clenched angrily, and his eyes narrowed. His pace quickened, even though he still had no idea where he was going.

No matter how much he could desperately try to, Draco knew there was no way that he was going to be able to get out of this situation, or run away. He didn't dare risk running to Dumbledore, because if he did - what would the Dark Lord do? Draco's mother would probably be the first to go, he was sure, and then the Dark Lord would find him and kill him too. Draco didn't want to die, at least, not yet. So he had to keep working. He had to make the stupid thing work, because he was only sixteen, and he was much too young to die. He wasn't even allowed to do magic outside school yet - just one more year. That's all Draco wanted, really. One more year. Sure, he definitely wouldn't argue with more time, but he needed it. He needed to secure his family's place with the Dark Lord, needed to prove his own worth so he could live that last year of his life to the fullest. Then whatever wanted to could come after him and rip him to pieces, for all he could care. Alright, so maybe Draco would care, and he would still beg for his life because he doubted he'd want to die quite so quickly, but the point was, he needed to do this.

Sure, sometimes this year he did wish someone would just kill him, put him out of his misery so then he could just die and not have to worry about that ruddy cabinet ever again. He wouldn't have to worry about the war, about which side he was on, and all of that other rubbish. Draco growled under his breath, running his fingers through his hair rather angrily. He shouldn't even have to deal with this! He was a sixteen year old boy, for fuck's sake! It was ridiculous, what the Dark Lord expected of him! But - that was just it, wasn't it? The Dark Lord expected him to fail, Draco knew. His master probably wanted him to fail, just so he could have the satisfaction of Narcissa falling to pieces and Lucius becoming even more useless and expendable. Well, if it was up to him, Draco wasn't going to let that happen. His family was probably one of the only things that mattered to him, and dammit, the Dark Lord wasn't going to fuck that up.

Draco sighed heavily, unclenching his fist and almost unconsciously rubbing the spot on his left arm where his mark resided. Draco had learned to push the burn out of his mind, though sometimes it was rather unbearable, and it woke him in the middle of the night. Once, it had even caused him to feel so horrible that he'd been violently sick all over his bed, but that was over the summer, when he'd first gotten it. Since then, Draco had grown a sort of "tolerance" for it, even though it wasn't that great. He still sometimes broke out into slight shivers when it burned terribly, and he hated himself even more for it. Just as Draco was about to shove up his sleeve and maybe tear at his arm a bit, just to try to see if he could rip the stupid thing off, he heard a soft sound coming from somewhere to his right. Curious, yet rather suspicious, Draco slipped his wand from the pocket of his trousers and slowly walked towards the noise he'd heard. His eyes narrowed as he saw someone in the distance, but he relaxed slightly - only slightly though, mind you - when he noticed it was another Slytherin.

Finally, he recognized the person. "Theo?" he asked sharply, his eyes narrowing. His hand clenched a bit tighter around his wand, the familiar wood making him feel a bit safer. If it was Theodore Nott, then Draco might feel a bit better - maybe. If not, then he was going to be severely annoyed, and tell the other person to get the fuck out of the forest, though maybe not quite in those particular words. His patience had sort of dropped to a very low point as of late.

[/font][/blockquote]

credits

this app was created by donni [saressa of caution 2.0] & mae [dutchessdavi of caution 2.0]; please do not steal without crediting. lyrics used belong to their respective owners, switchfoot, and the characters belong to their respective owners as well. thank you :]

[/center] [/blockquote]

[Argus Admin Filch]

A C C E P T E D
welcome to our awakening

everyone here is
happy to have you, shelby
thank you for the detail in your application
remember to make your face claim and occupation claim