Sure he’d realized that Theo was dangerous. He wasn’t an idiot or socially oblivious. He couldn’t have lived with his father without being aware of the kind of dark shit both their families were involved in. Sometimes Theo’s knuckles were bloody and once or twice Draco noticed blood in Theo’s dark curls. Draco had no illusions that Theo was good. He knew he wasn’t, but he was present and up until the moment that he boarded that flight to London, Theo had been the one person that Draco could always rely on. Theo was good to him.