Passed Around Dark Lords

31

The train ride was quiet. Not that Draco expected anything else after Tom's rather abrupt display, which was embaressing at best, but he had to admit, Tom had a point. So far it was the only thing that worked, and he would take Tom's word that he had tried other avenues prior to simply biting him for the hell of it. It was still somewhat dubious at best, and Draco knew that should the wrong people get a hold of the fact it could make things quite disturbing, and complicated. He was grateful, in a way, that neither Walburga and Orion, nor Abraxas, wanted to continue their adamentations. He had several things to think over...least of all Tom's preclivities towards drawing his blood-which while concerning at least were not done to torture him.

The first and foremost being his loss of time. It was getting worse. Even he had to acknowledge that, as trying to pretend it was not an issue would merely make it far worse in the long run, plus he had a habit of trying to be at least a bit honest with himself. He had lost...he did not even know how much time between the Drawing room and the Train. What made things far more disturbing though was that Tom and the others would have had to drag him through throngs of people, and he could not remember a single thing. The entire trip to the compartment was black, as though it had been wiped from his memory. Yet, it had not, he would know if a spell had been cast on him, and from what Tom had explained to him prior this was easily a trauma response, which goodness knows he certainly had enough of that to last a thousand life times. He could have only lost a few minutes, but he could have easily lost more, and the train was already moving when he finally managed to come to. His slowly increasing lapses in time, these so called disassociation episodes, they were problematic, at best, and could cause him some severe trouble if he was not careful.

Then he had to worry about this issue with his great grandfather. Draco truly had not expected him to have the same cane his father constantly used. Of course, he should have expected something like that considering the Malfoy's were quite strict with family heirlooms, but for some reason it had not come into his thoughts that the cane could have been an heirloom in the first place. While his father had the damned thing for as long as he could remember, he had just figured that it had been bought a while ago, and Lucius was quite fond of it. It was an ideal place to hide your wand on you, after all. It doubled as useful considering it had gotten Lucius into no wand zones quite often considering nobody bothered to look in a cane, and none bothered to take too much closer a look at the wand Lucius handed to them nonetheless. Normaly, most wards and charms would detect wands, but Lucius' cane had a way of blurring their scans. To see his great grandfather hold the item that had caused him such pain? Then again, who knows what Great Grandfather is thinking. Draco contemplated, his shoulders slowly dropping as Tom allowed his nails to draw across them over his robes. It could be something, it could be nothing, I can only hope that nobody of import noticed how far gone I was. It would be cause for major rumors, and I am undoubtedly already going to have far too many on my tail, because of course Abraxas would post something like that the day of Hogwarts instead of the day before. It was not a bad idea, of course, but at the same time it was sort of annoying.

Draco just did not know what to do. His Great Grandfather seemed to want him to behave with decorum, and he could of course, but he was worried now too. He hadn ot been punished previously, and that threw things off. He had no idea why he had not been punished, as he was almost dead certain that he would have been, and instead all he got was some light threat and then the man had left the room. It was terribly confusing.

"Draco? My dear it is time to leave." Draco sighed into Tom's neck, pulling himself away from the boy and standing, straightening his robes, and carefully tracing the line of the scarf to ensure that it hid his mark. He would have to check the bleeding later, but Tom had never bit so hard as to draw blood for more than a few seconds, or maybe a minute at most. He doubted that it was a problem, but it did need to be covered. He did not want to be answering complicated questions aabou that. Who knew what he was supposed to say to something like that, and the rumors that would fly about the rumor mill would be something quite awful truly.

Tom gripped his wrist, left hand again, and pulled him out of the compartment, level with him as they walked off the train. Draco allowed his eyes to trail down to where Tom's arm grasped over his robes. For some reason, Tom seemed to have a renewed obsession with grabbing his left arm. He had not noticed it before, but after it began to happen it became quite clear. He was not sure if it was because the mark, and he was displeased on it, or something else. Either way, the mark always felt discomforting when Tom placed his hand over it, but outside of the first night of seeing it, he had not touched it with his bare hands, always over the robes, which was something Draco was quite grateful for. He may not be entirely sure why the mark acted like that, but it was not as though the Dark Lord was the only one able to cause discomfort in the mark. It always itched and ached whenever anyone touched it, it merely was worse with the Dark Lord. Likely because he had created the cursed thing.

They ignored a few bustling Slytherins that tried to rush towards them much to their disappointment, Walburga, Orion, and Abraxas carefully flanking them as they entered a carriage. Draco did not know how he was to be sorted. He had not been granted that information, though he figured it would probably be either before or after the first year sorting. Before I hope. He thought to himself. I do not relish waiting in the Great Hall whilst dozens of children are sorted into their houses. It would take forever, and the first time was long enough...and my last name was only half way through the damned list. He did wonder if there would be less kids though, considering the war...he knew that there was a sort of boom after Grindelwald's defeat, but only for a few years, as soon after another war was waged.