Passed Around Dark Lords

32

Draco was pulled off the carriage by a rather impatient Tom, which somewhat surprised Draco, considering the other's calm demeanor the entire time so far. Tom rarely showed his impatience, and even rarer when it came to being in the more public eye. Granted, they were one of the first carriages to reach the castle, but that did not mean that eyes were not abounding. There was nothing to be done for it, however, and Draco, due to Tom's own impatience, ended up stumbling forwards into the other's arms quite nicely. Nevermind on the confusion. Draco thought to himself. That was definitely on purpose. Though he did not call the other out on it, merely allowing Tom to hold him tightly against him. He did not have the energy to fight Tom, and that seemed to be a rather continual struggle for him. Things had been going so strangely, and he really did not know what to do with it.

It took next to no time that they were moving towards the infamous castle. Draco felt himself shivering against his will at the sight of it, his body and his mind breaking slowly as memories threatened to engulf him, which he shoved down ruthlessly. His occlumency was not bad, of course, it had to be considering it withstood Auntie Bella, but at the same time, he did not want to risk Dumbledore knowing anything he did not need to know, and Draco was not sure he was necessarily in the peace of mind to handle what could come with the consequences of that. This was a dangerous time, after all, and when things came to Grindelwald, Draco still did not know what to think of the other wizard.

"Just keep your eyes off his," Tom muttered softly to his swiftly increasing panic as he noticed the younger version of his headmaster standing before the doors. "That is where he gets most of his capabilities." As opposed to you? Draco thought curiously. The disgust that Tom had as he spoke it...Draco already knew that Tom knew Legilimacy, though he was not entirely certain how good he was at it, Draco had not felt abrupt intrusions, so it was clear to note that Tom was definitely skilled, which while rare was not impossible. Others would say it was impossible for him to be as good an Occlumens as he was, and yet here he was. He now just had to think about things, if Tom did not need eye contact at all...that could pose some problems. It was inevitable that the mind arts often were best used with direct eye contact, but some highly skilled Legilimens did not need it to serve their purpose.

The only one I know to have managed that however....Draco stopped, his vision going in and out suddenly, legs buckling under him as they reached the Great Hall. Tom held onto him more securely, wrapping an arm about his waist to keep him standing and walking besides him.

Tom caught glipses of slitted red eyes, and could not help but wonder...what was it that terrified Draco so much about them? From what little Tom had managed to grasp, the gaze belonged to himself. It was not exactly surprising. Tom's own eyes would flint red when he was angry or highly upset, a remnance of his Slytherin heritage, from what he could gather. Just as the gray eyes turning to swirling storms right before a rain fall were the Blacks and the Malfoy's blue turning to ice crystalized in a cave were theirs. Pureblood families often had strange things happen to their eyes when angry or upset. It was the buildup of magic of course, and while Tom was not a pureblood, a mere halfblood as he was, his magical line was powerful enough that it did not necessarily matter.

The red eyes faded into a dark void of fabric, though Tom could not quite place it before the memories were shut down as Tom dug his nails viciously into the other's side under the guise of guiding him towards the Slytherin table, ignoring the curious gazes of several students and teachers. He knew it was not customary for a student to seat themselves before they were sorted, but Draco was not a mere student, and Hogwarts were not known for transfers either. If there was truly a problem with it, Tom figured they should have informed them of what to was to be done when they got to Hogwarts, and as that did not happen, it did not matter.

"It would seem that works as well," Tom muttered, pulling his nails from Draco's side, listening to the slight hiss of pain from the pureblood. Tom tilted his head, pushing Draco down into the Slytherin bench before sitting at his right, leaving Draco sitting on his left. The place normally occupied by Abraxas, leaving Abraxas to sit besides Draco, bristling slightly. Tom took no notice to that, instead parting Draco's robes and pulling his shirt up slightly to see what damage had been done. Orion was watching curiously as Tom traced slightly the brutally marred flesh of Draco's side. Draco tensed slightly, but did not utter a refusal or even another hiss of pain. unfortuante. Tom thought to himself, unable to stop it. He sighed softly. the nail markings were deep, he had not thought that he had dug so deeply, but it was clear that he had. "Draco, you seem to be becoming quite the little masochist." Tom muttered under his breath barely audible for the Malfoy to hear. He watched as Draco's eyes widened, his body straightening in frustration, but he did not say anything...would not dare.

Draco's retort, even if he had managed to come up with one, would not proceed considering Dippet had finally stood to take the stand. Tom nonchalantly refixed Draco's shirt and robes in place as though nothing had ever happened. He saw Draco's lower lip wavering slightly, his eyes slightly watery, but otherwise there was no hint that he had almost disassociated in the middle of walking to the damned table. Draco's sorting would be first. He saw the nerves that the Malfoy gave, but stood primly after Dippet announced him, and Dumbledore had called him and walked briskly over to the hat.

Draco felt a great deal of pride that just as before, the hat called Slytherin before scarecely touching his head. He stood, breathing slightly heavy, avoiding Dumbledore's eyes as he knocked slightly into the old man's shoulder as he sat himself once more on Tom's left side. He closed his eyes, fingers forcibly uncurled from where he had tightened them to curve into his palms by Tom. "Well done," was all that Tom said, but it calmed Draco significantly.

Always so interesting. Tom thought to himself, watching as the tension, while it did not flee completely from the Malfoy's body, fled a great deal at his praise.