Oh, Shit

25

Just because Draco was prepared for the icy feeling to wash over him didn't mean it was any less unpleasant than when Madam Pomfrey did it. The feeling left an almost numbing sensation, and that had always unnerved him. It almost felt as if his entire body went to sleep. Not just unpleasant, but disconcerting as well. He was not weak, though, and he had to prove this to the young dark lord. There was no way that he was going to back out after he just agreed. So he held firm, though his shoulders were tense, and his hands were shaking slightly despite his sheer well trying to keep them steady. He refused to show weakness. At least any further weakness. Though it is not as if the Dark Lord would not know how pathetic I truly am. The unbidden thought sorely brought down his determined mood. Almost as if sensing it, Tom moved forwards, letting his fingers curl around his shoulder and murmuring a quiet but clear 'good job' The realization that, inside Draco's thoughts, he was not wrong, after all, his treacherous thoughts were correct. The old Dark Lord would definitely know, but this youthful one? Despite his reassurance that he was pleased with Draco, Draco knew that it would not last. He had seen inside his mind after all. Yet, he actually listened. Yet another unbidden thought drifted through his mind, and Draco couldn't help but dwell on them this time. It was a welcome relief from the poking and prodding as Draco numbly obeyed the Nurse's orders.

The Dark Lord. He was an infamous Legilimens. It was clear, despite how young the Dark Lord was at the moment, that he was very much powerful in the mind arts. His pilfering was clean, almost effortless. Draco was highly sensitive, so of course he knew that Tom was prying-that and the fact that they were literally in lessons to do exactly that-but whenever Draco's wards finally cracked, fell, or shattered, Tom never looked further, simply retreated from his mind. He did not have to, and Draco was no idiot. Especially upon the realization that Tom Marvolo Riddle was THE Dark Lord, yet he hadn't. He had listened to Draco's frankly insulting demand without a second thought.

"Calm yourself, Draco, you are thinking far too much," The short but precise command quickly pulled Draco from his thoughts and into the present.

"I don't see anything much the matter outside some slight malnutrition-which can be rectified with some hearty meals. I will speak with the house elves on that but besides that, there does not seem to be much wrong. Mr. Riddle was correct, though, you do have a vicious headache, Young Master Malfoy." Draco shivered at the address. "I can prescribe you a potion to handle it, but do not take it more than a couple of times. This dose is enough for a few days. If your headache continues to persist after that, I will need you to return."

"Thank you, Madam," Riddle stated before Draco could even think to address her himself. He bowed his head slightly, but otherwise did nothing more, seeing no point. Riddle had already given the thanks, what need would Draco have to do it himself?

"Here, make sure he takes it, wouldn't you?"

"Of course, why else would I bring him here?" The barb was just sharp enough that the nurse flushed crimson in embarrassment but simply turned on her heal and stalked over to someone else. Draco huffed, rolling his eyes, but dragged himself out of the hospital bed, Tom immediately moving his arm around his waist yet again...like on the carriage, like after Dumbledore's class. It unnerved him, the tactile bond. It was almost a chain, a human version of a rope binding him to Tom. He would have thought the Dark Lord too mighty for something almost plebian, but he was learning more and more how different-yet similar-the two versions of the Dark Lord was. It was like his Dark Lord was a distant memory, slowly being taken over by this younger, somehow more dangerous feeling one.

Perhaps the young version of the Dark Lord seemed more dangerous because he was saner? He had heard something a lot, especially spoken by those muggle lovers, or muggleborns in school. The crazy ones are the ones you have to watch out for because they are unpredictable. Draco felt that was wrong. After all, though the Older Dark Lord was definitely crazy, and not necessarily all there, he was predictable in many ways. Personally, Draco felt it was the sane ones you should worry over, because they had the wherewithal to actually plan, plot, and circle around you.

"I will give you this, and we will do your lesson, but not for as long as last time, I do not want you to worsen your headache."

"Thank you, Sir," Draco did feel relieved. He was glad that the infamous Dark Lord was willing to still teach him! He could understand it being one thing when they were in the orphanage, but now Draco knew who he was, and he was clearly someone of high standing among the Slytherins. He did not have to continue to help him in this way, yet he did. Draco was not entirely sure if that was a good thing, or not, but he definitely would take advantage of all he could. He did not have good standing among the Slytherins, after all, and the only reason he was not being beaten or bullied viciously was thanks to Tom Marvolo Riddle and his infamous control of all those around him.