Passed Around Dark Lords

26

With a towel fixed firmly about his waist, Tom confidently walked through the bathroom and into the bedroom, ignoring, but noticing, the wide eyed stare that the Malfoy had given him. The younger version of Abraxas seemed to flush deeply at the state of his undress, and Tom could not help but notice as Draco's eyes seemed to linger over his form. He knew that he looked good, that much was obvious, despite how malnourished that he was (though that had been getting steadily better with Hogwarts feeding him quite hearty portions for nine months out of the year and with a good deal of money secured and his regular trips to Diagon Alley for light snacks and meals). It had been the talk of many over his years at Hogwarts, and would likely continue to be so as well. Seeing the young Malfoy so utterly unprepared, and flustered, was a rare treat, however, and one that Tom fully intended to take advantage of. Draco was far more...reactive...than Abraxas was. He reminded Tom so strongly sometimes...yet that was a different notion. Malfoys were always so reserved, and while Draco had not avoided this tragedy for the most part, there were certain things that definitely caused him to become far more flustered and responsive than Abraxas was. Tom had yet to sus out everything that would cause it, but many things that Tom did-biting, manhandling, and now parading about in a towel-seemed to draw it out, which was quite enjoyable to watch.

"You failed to retreive your clothes before entering the shower," Draco muttered softly, holding the items out to him, finally turning his face away, his cheeks having a loevly dark shade of pink attached to them. It was quite...pretty. I do enjoy such a shade on such a pale body. Tom thought to himself of the many other endeavors he had with other boys that would cause such a fetching color, but shook them away. When he managed to gain such a pleasure of doing such things to Draco, he was certain that the boy would eclipse all others. How he knew this, Tom could not really reason out, but he knew it nonetheless. Tom grabbed them and dropped the towel to put them on, not bothering to go into a different room, and he could see Draco seemingly to shiver and turn his entire body away, hunching over himself as though worried...something were to happen.

"Has Abraxas come yet?" Tom questioned. Draco swiftly shook his head, his body still somewhat trembling as Tom moved to face him, though Draco's head was down and his gaze locked to the floor. "I see, well that is good enough, I suppose we should head downstairs then. I doubt Abraxas would want us to be late, and perhaps we can get some decent points if we are early with his father hm? Since you seem to be so concerned about staying on the Patriarch's good side." Tom noticed a slight flinch at that, but did not say anything, and Draco did not comment. "Well, come on now." Tom did not wait another second, moving his hand forwards and swiftly snatching Draco's left wrist into his grasp, yanking him upwards and then forwards and shoving him through the door. Whatever daze Draco had been in cleared itself as he hurriedly made his way down the stairs, showing a rather...remarkable knowledge of the manor if Tom was being honest with himself. Though, if his suspicions were correct (and Tom knew that they were) he supposed that it was unsurprising. The boy stopped, hesitating for just a slight second, at the base of the stairs, before seemingly steeling himself and walking into the lounging room. Did Tom want to know what happened there? Perhaps, but he also figured if Draco's father was as violent as what he had managed to glean from the youngest Malfoy's dreams, split second memories, and emotions tended to suggest, he doubted that the Manor held many decent memories at all, anywhere.

As they had suspected Abraxas was sitting on one of the luxorious couches reading, and had dropped the book in his hands on the table, turning his gaze to them immediately as he sensed their presence. He gave the two of them a smile, and a slight wave. "I was going to talk to you soon enough if you had not come down. Father should be ready soon, and we will go to Gringotts immediately after. I presume you are somewhat aware of the blood traces that are to be done on you, right?" Abraxas directed the last part of his words toward Draco, who nodded, if a bit stiffly.

"Of course, they are common for testing bastards, blood status, and heirship line placement, though information outside of that is obscure, and there are limitations. The bloodline tested is the only bloodline that would show up, presuming you were correct in assuming which it is." The words were delivered clearly, but Tom could tell that Draco was nervous, though he supposed if he was going to be tested for potential heriship placement andh is blodoline he would be nervous too.

"Abraxas, you are here, and your...friends as well..." The eldest Malfoy stood at the fireplace besides what appeared to have been a hallway that Tom had not noticed. Draco tensed at the sound of the Malfoy Patriarch's voice, but merely turned to acknowledge them. "We must head out now. What the test reveals will give me an insight on how much work there is to be done, or not done." The last part was muttered, and it seemed even the malfoy head of the house seemed to believe Draco was a malfoy if the tone was any indication.

It was cold as they stepped into diagon alley. Draco refrained from shivering, but the chill still bit into his skin as he walked behind his grandfather, and right besides Tom, who was still standing far too close for comfort-had been the entire day so far, barring that...that...shameless display in the morning. He still could not believe that Tom had the gall to drip right next to him to change. Of course, he knew changing in front of other boys, he had done it himself in the quidditch practice rooms, but it was all impersonal, and nobody was staring at you while anyone did that. It was as though Tom made it his mission to be as discomforting as possible, which he supposed was actually quite likely.

He was not overly worried about the test itself, after all there was little it would do. It was clear his Mafloy blood would show up, and it may end up bringing him in danger with Abraxas' position as Heir, but Draco really did not need to fret about much else. Terrifying as though the idea may be, at least his Black blood had not been figured out yet. Really, though, if he had not been such a spineless emotional mess upon meeting his grandparents, none of this would have occured in the first place. Alas, it was far too late to stop it.

Gringotts had always been somewhat intimidating, but perhaps it was just the circumstances of his position, but for some reason Draco did not see it as such walking towards it yet again. He knew what was to happen, perhaps that was what lessened it. Furthermore, there was more concerning things to worry about, and for now everything beat out of his head as he tried to focus mostly on being present rather than slipping away. He did not want to risk knowing how his Great Grandfather would react to seeing Tom bite the ever living shit out of his neck as though he were some fateful vampire.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy and family, interesting to see you here so early, on such a day as this."

"Yes, well, I would like to conduct the blood test, on this individual." He felt the collar of his robes grabbed and swiftly was pushed forwards before the Patriarch. "So slow, Draco, seriously." He heard his father mutter under his breath as he stumbled down the stairs of the wretched place. His robes seemed to choke him almost, before his father abruptly dropped the fabric from between his fingers and pasted a smile on his face to one of the ministry officials. Draco shoved the memory down, ignoring the piercing gaze of Tom behind him, and shoving the gentle prodding out of his mind. He was getting...how to put it...in the fit of his memories, whenever those took hold of him, his shields failed him. It was unnerving to realize, and struck a sense of worry through him that he did well to hide as his great grandfather led them all into one of the backrooms. When had he finished negotiating with the Goblins? He thought to himself, alarm striking him.