Passed Around Dark Lords

60

"I think a small trip to Hogsmeade is good enough, yes?" Enceladus questioned, already knowing the answer as his fellow patriarch nodded once. The atmosphere radiated a tension that had not been there previously. He did have a good relationship with Arcturus, so he was a bit confused by it, but decided to push forwards, nonetheless. Glancing, he noticed his second son, Draco, was huddling close to this...Mr. Riddle, and gently tugging him along. Abraxas and Orion were flanking the two.

The dynamic between his sons and this Tom Riddle was interesting, but even more so with his younger son. Dumbledore was right, he had only known Draco existed since this summer, but he was still his, and he would ensure that meant he was afforded the things he needed at the very least. He was somewhat concerned about his older son's reaction in the infirmary. 

He was more than well aware that Abraxas felt disconcerted with a second Malfoy coming up. It meant that he had failed, in a sense, in raising him. Abraxas felt settled in his position before Draco showed up, and that meant he was going to have to take a closer look at his son, because he should have retained that assuredness even after Draco came around, and yet he did not. It was up to suspect. Now, watching as both he and Orion walked besides, yet slightly behind, Draco and Riddle, he had to question things a bit. He knew that Riddle was close to his sons, and Abraxas had invited him to the manor a few times, but it was even clearer that despite the smaller time frame, he was ever so much closer to Draco. It did alleviate some fears that he was friends with Abraxas for his status, as Draco may be a potential heir, but was not the current heir. 

Then there was Draco's magic...from how Abraxas had mentioned it, it was definitely not his family's magic, but it was magic from a pureblood family. There was no doubt that Draco was Enceladus' child, he was a Malfoy, but he did not know the second family...he had assumed it was his wife, but perhaps he had been wrong. From what he could gather, Draco's magic had lashed out violently. Malfoy's magic is not nearly as reactive, nor violent. A glance towards Arcturus had him wondering, because Black magic WAS that reactive, and it was violent. This had been a defining use of the pureblood family's magic, and it was a dead ringer for telling who a Black was, the insanity and the darkness in their magic was almost uncontainable. In moments of high emotion it lashed out and did so violently. 

He shook his head. He should not be thinking of these things, especially after Draco had gone through something traumatizing. Though it seems he managed to hold himself quite well, almost too much so. "Where shall we go?" Enceladus questioned, turning to his little group. 

"Honeydukes is always a good place." 

"If I could," Draco interrupted, his fingers holding tightly into Riddle's waist. "I need some extra supplies. I miscalculated the amount of parchment needed for this portion of the semester." That was Enceladus' fault, and he knew it. The looks of the Black heads made it clear that they were judging him for it, but he had also not known that the boy would not inform him if he needed something, nor did he expect an extremely detailed letter every Sunday from him either. Yet, at the same time, Draco had requested something, and Enceladus did not have it in him to refuse, especially since this was the first thing he had ever requested from him in the several months he had known him. 

"Honeydukes after?" Orion questioned, tilting his head slightly. The agreement was easy, and they steered their course. Once in the little shop, Draco wasted no time in yanking Riddle through the shops. Enceladus narrowed his eyes slightly but did not follow them, choosing instead to linger back. 

-

"Darling, you are perfectly alright," Tom whispered softly, ignoring the slight pain as Draco's nails dug through his robes. He hummed softly, a lullaby of a song long lost to him. Draco's eyes closed and he inhaled softly, before exhaling an almost punched out breath.