Draco’s eyes narrowed in on Amycus and he considered his words. Why would Amycus be telling me this Draco wondered for a moment as he swallowed again and felt his fingers clench and then gently release, but not let go, of the wand in his now sweaty hand. Draco cocked his head slightly, his chin lifting upwards a tad as he felt his heart pounding faster. As Amycus moved to show his wand-free hands Draco’s eyes widened in a flash until his was sure that the man before him seemed truly unarmed.
His jaw clenched and he swallowed hard as he slowly slipped his wand into his pocket, though he made sure to keep his now unarmed hand positioned closely to it should he need it – he hoped he would not – but trepidation and doubt were prudent when dealing with such a man as Amycus Carrow. Sometimes, for Draco, it was all he could do not to show his fear – to appear weak – but really, that’s how Draco felt most days as he pondered the world and his own, seemingly meek future. His pride was injured and it was a difficult blow for Draco to take in. Amycus was right on one count though – at least in Draco’s interpretation – neither side particularly trusted him. Why would they? And it was in fact something Draco hoped to do – prove himself – as he’d been trying (and failing) at for three years now.
Draco nodded. “Yes, I do.” He said with a darker tone in his voice than before. “Though,” he added quickly, “If everyone seem to think it's the best not to tell me, wouldn’t it be prudent to question why you are speaking to the contrary?” Draco’s eyes flashed for a moment, a bit of fear mixed with a bit of tenacity, the old tenacity that in times past helped the young man keep sharp. It was certainly a bit of a bold move, considering the man standing in front of Draco – the man who grew closer with each step while Draco stood firm – his resolve or his fear or both, rooting the boy to the spot.