"I – I didn’t know." He looked down at his boots on the carpet, his own cheeks burning. Anything. Fuck. Fuck. Draco didn’t want to know that. He felt ill. What if Voldemort had taken his mother up on that, and hadn’t kept his word? Draco didn’t want to look at her. She had done that for him? Offered...offered herself to that snake for him? He felt like he should thank her, but that would be so wrong. He felt like he wanted to ask her if Voldemort had, but he didn’t really want to know. Draco clamped his mouth tight shut and stared at the scuffed toes of his boots, stomach churning up into his throat.