Draco was dressed in a rich silver dressing robe that looked as if it had been made of an alchemical mixture of silk and dragon hide. It lent him an austere air, which suited the mood of the room as its Master leafed through what appeared to be paperwork, probably financial. A tall transparent goblet of drinking chocolate was set on a small table near Draco's desk, and its contents were dark, almost black. Draco had been waiting since four o'clock despite Theodore's promise to make it by quarter 'til five; he sighed, setting the scrolls down and leaning back his head against the chair he was sitting in. Draco pulled a hand through his white-blond hair, watching as the longer strands fell gracefully, nearly in slow-motion. His mind was cluttered, and he hoped Theodore would improve its general state.
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