Draco Malfoy, formerly known as Thriller, currently known as the Dragon King, the Dragon Slayer, the King of Slytherin, and the Little Demon (though that was soon to change to something more…appropriate), sits at a long table, one littered with lavish decorations and carvings, symbols, runes, and more. Adjacent to him is his father Lucius, and adjacent to him sits Draco's Mother Narcissa. All three Malfoys sport a grim expression, courtesy of the fourth person seated at said table, Bellatrix Lestrange, Draco's aunt and Narcissa's sister. The room they're in is masterfully decorated with paintings of great deeds from Malfoys past, with furniture that cost more than most families make in a life time, and a big bright chandelier that hangs in the center of the room, from the impossibly tall ceiling. Despite its makeup, despite the sheen and luxury expressed by said decoration, it does little to lighten the darkness exuded by what can only be described as the most loyal of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters.

Lucius and Narcissa at least attempt to hide their displeasure, but Draco does no such thing, choosing instead to stare, exasperated and bored, at his aunt as she chatters on.

"You absolutely need to meet him, Draco! You'll love him, and it will be glorious!" Bellatrix spews gleefully with a sinister giggle, almost bouncing in place from her excitement. Draco remains unimpressed and sighs in annoyance.

"I'd rather not." He cuts in with a dry tone, severely reducing the smile and excitement from his dear aunt. She even frowns a moment, opening her mouth to rebut but he cuts her off as he continues speaking. "But I know that your…pitch and your excitement can only mean one thing." He turns his eyes to the door as it slams open with flare and fervor. "He's already here." For the first time in Draco's young life, he begins to regret freeing his aunt, for in her…eagerness and enthusiasm, she brought him face to face with the man he ideally would never so much as look at throughout the entirety of his long and fruitful existence: Tom Riddle AKA Lord Voldemort.

The pale, snake-like man all but struts through the door, as if t were his house, and they simply the guests, and yet at the same time he almost floats in, like a specter, a wraith brought to physical form. Instantly, the eldest two Malfoys pale, looking sick at the reveal, and it's all Draco can do not to attack the man who would dare inflict such discomfort on him and his parents, in their own home at that. But he stays his hand, unsure if he can win such a confrontation, and instead he analyzes the man, searching for signs of hostility, for weaknesses, for opening to exploit should it come to that.

"Young Draco…" The dark wizard hisses out. "Bellatrix tellsss me much about you." He floats over to directly behind Draco, causing both of his parents to freeze up. "I am…impresssed by your accomplissshmentsss." He goes to touch Draco's shoulder, but he's rebuffed by the young Malfoy's magic. His eyes narrow, but he continues his speech. "From freeing Bellatrix from the impenetrable Azkaban, to defeating a dragon in sssingle combat, and…" He pauses for a moment, as if considering something. "Winning the Triwizard Tournament of courssse. Perhapsss I can find a place for you in the…higher upsss of my organization." He half-suggests. Draco turns to him, face contorting into a small frown.

"I'm not interested." He says bluntly. "I have everything I need and where I want it." He further explains, trying to get his point across without instigating a fight in his parent's presence. "Joining you would only complicate things. So, thanks, but no thanks." Rage overtakes Voldemort's expression, his wand raised in the air, and a red light shooting out from the tip, towards the upstart young boy.

"YOU DARE!" He yells, only to widen his eyes in shock as his attack, his outburst is blocked, seemingly without effort from the boy.

"I dare." The boy replies with a wide grin, a demonic one that sends a tingle of warning through the Dark Lord's senses. "It is only on the strength of my aunt," He stops to look her way, "and my father," he glances at the eldest Malfoy male, "that I am being cordial." He informs the much older wizard, a hint of warning in his voice. "They are the only reason we are not fighting to your death." The wand hand of snake-like wizard twitches in annoyance at the insinuation. Draco sighs as he continues his pitch. "It is because of them that I am going to…overlook your act of aggression and propose a deal."

Still the dark wizard is annoyed at the boy's tone, as if he is an equal, or worse, a better, but he reigns it in, as the boy has proven to have some prowess.

"A deal, you say?" He inquires, legitimately curious as what kind of deal a young boy can make with him.

"Yes." Draco confirms with a nod. "A non-interference agreement." He clarifies, causing the older wizard to tilt his head in want of an explanation. "You leave me the fuck alone, and I do the same to you." He explains with a bit of vitriol in his voice, unhappy at the previous attack and at the demeanor of the older wizard. "You can take aunt Bellatrix, as she obviously wants to go, but you will leave me and my parents out of this." He all but demands. "Do that, and we'll be fine."

"What makes you think you can command me, boy?" Voldemort snarls in anger and fury. "Crucio!" Another red light shoots from his wand, this one much more powerful than his first attempt. Still, it is batted aside by the boy who looks less than impressed.

"That was your last freebie." The boy replies, face cold, again shocking the dark wizard. "Unless you fancy yourself mightier than a dragon," his voice takes on a dark tone, "get out of my house."

Lord Voldemort stares down the boy, trying to get a read on him, both literally and figuratively, with the literal attempt causing his mind to nearly burst. There is something off with the boy, especially with his mind, and the self-proclaimed Dark Lord finds himself less and less willing to engage any further on the boy's home turf.

"A rather…ssspirited boy you've raisssed Luciusss." He addresses his once-loyal subordinate, getting a read on him instead. The older Malfoy swallows, searching for the proper words, when his son cuts in, not verbally, but via calling his wand to his hand. Voldemort narrows his eyes, understanding the message but not liking it. Swiftly, he turns with a flourish of his robes and begins with to make his retreat. Suddenly he pauses, remembering his right-hand woman and the most loyal and fanatic of his Death Eaters.

"Come along Bellatrix." Both master and servant exit the Malfoy Manor, leaving the three blond wizards, namesakes to the manor, to their own devices.