Draco stopped on his way back to the debris at the Dark Lo- at Tom's question. He suspected he rather did know; Tom would want to know about the one thing Draco didn't want to discuss. Of course. Naturally.
"I'm from after the war. After your... demise. I don't know what you want to know, sir. Ask me a question and I will answer it to the best of my ability." That was as much as Draco could do without going into his life story, spilling his heart out to this man, this... Him. Draco had to mentally repeat to himself that he didn't owe him a goddamned thing and that, much like himself, Tom didn't have magic. Or if he did, it wasn't much. Nothing with which to read his mind, for example. Nothing with which to torture him. He was just a man; a terrifying man who would be doing terrible things soon, Draco had no doubt. But for now, he owed him nothing, certainly not his loyalty. Never that.
Draco returned to the debris, picking up the last of the sticks as he awaited his questions.