Draco was watching this stranger who had been sorted to his own house: Slytherin. Those within the walls of Slytherin often distrusted each other until they knew each other well, or came to understand each other. This was the same case here, with Draco. Even more so given what he'd just been through in his own time. Silver eyes narrowed briefly when the other began speaking, offering information so freely.
"Lestat," stated Draco, tasting the name on his tongue. "You may wish to be more careful of the information that you share with those even in Slytherin house. I'm Draco Malfoy. And yes, this is the Daily Prophet, our newspaper, one of them, anyway." Marquis? That meant he was connected to royalty, if not royal himself. Draco frowned. What did all this mean?
And that's when he spotted them. The glint that hit the man's fangs. Fangs. Draco stiffened automatically, defensive spells leaping to mind. Wandless magic was a gift of his, something he practiced and practiced until he could do it wordlessly. Snape had drilled it into him during private lessons and his father had, as well, stating that just because magic was a Malfoy birth right did not mean that he could slack off with it. Worse case scenario, he would use a spell to bind the man in front of him to escape. Was he...a vampire? A werewolf? Draco's mind was working double time to reason out who or what this man was, this royal.
"You say this castle reminds you of your home? Which home was that, monsieur?" returned Draco coolly, testing the man in front of him. If he said the name of a castle and Draco knew its history, then his point would be proven. He was curious. But he wasn't going to act without proof.