Hell hasn't done Draco's looks any favors, and he spends an excessive amount of time and magic on them regardless. He's proud and vain as always, this place hasn't yet taken that from him, or perhaps it's only encouraging.

His ego could honestly use less feeding, but considering his level of smug when Billy's moan hits his ears, that seems unlikely.

"Mmhm," he hums instead. Then his mouth is occupied, tongue painting a few arbitrary patterns in heat across warming skin, tracing around several scars with surprising care.

"I have another spell I quite like, if you're interested in trying one more... " Even as he speaks, he's pinching teasingly at Billy's hip. "Lift up a bit."