Leaving the Divination Tower, Draco wandered the castle in search of Tennant. Eventually, he gave up and headed to the Slytherin dungeons to nap. He was tired of roaming the halls looking like he'd sipped a poorly brewed Draught of Living Death.
He stripped to his underwear and dove gratefully into the fresh bed. The house-elves had changed the linens — Granger's blanket was neatly folded at the head, and on top of it lay a red camellia flower. Draco ran his fingers over the petals. So soft, just like... He didn't finish the thought, simply closed his eyes and drifted into sleep.
He woke in total darkness — rain lashed the tall windowpanes. Crawling out from beneath the red blanket, Draco fumbled for his pocket watch — he'd slept through half the day. In that time, Tennant could have caused no end of trouble.
Draco felt miserable. He had meant to take a nap, not sleep for four hours.
Still, after a cool shower and in a fresh jumper, he did look better — the dark circles under his eyes had nearly vanished, and there was a healthy flush in his cheeks. He tousled his hair into perfect disarray and applied a few drops of his Etoile Magique cologne. Then he put on his rings and slipped his grandmother's harlequin wand into his pocket.
Yes, his spine straightened, and the persistent headache finally faded.
Naturally, Tennant wasn't in the Slytherin common room. Draco spent a full hour fruitlessly searching all the places his roommate liked to hang out, then headed for the library.
A quick scan showed that Isobel was in the History of Magic section with three Ravenclaws — they were all hunched over a massive tome chained to the stand. She gave him a small smile, to which Draco only nodded. She hardly expected him to smile back. Even Vane wasn't that naive. He wandered between shelves in the Magical Creatures section, grabbing a textbook on griffon mating habits for Hagrid's next topic (who even thought of breeding griffons?).
At that moment, a familiar growl reached his ears — it came from the right, through the shelves. A squeak in reply made Draco relax slightly — not Granger. Another growl followed, then a crash of falling books.
Draco turned just in time to see the slender figure of Astoria Greengrass sprinting past. Her face was flushed, and she clutched books to her chest like a shield.
Rounding the corner, Draco saw Tennant punching a shelf labeled "FAERIES" with full force. The massive wizard barely got himself under control, straightened his shirt, and shakily tried to button his jacket.
— "What's the matter, Tenni? Got a thing for faeries?" Draco said slowly. "Nasty creatures. Poisonous."
Tennant sneered in reply:
— "I prefer faeries... of another kind."
— "You Durmstrang types are hopeless with women who have brains."
— "Really? And Viktor Krum?"
Draco barely suppressed a snarl. The image of a fluttering blue cloak surfaced — flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, styled curls...
— "So you don't approve of my little games with Miss Greengrass," Tennant finally gave up on buttoning the jacket. "You're impossible to please, Draco. No enlightening of underclassmen, but when I woo someone my own age, what do I hear?" He raised his voice. "You don't mess with the Golden Girl!"
— "You call what you did yesterday wooing?"
— "She's stubborn. I said I'd be more refined."
Tennant stepped forward, carelessly kicking aside the fallen books with his tall black boots, disturbing a swarm of angry faeries. The tiny beings buzzed their irritation and flew up to the top shelves, their shimmering wings catching the light. Tennant lowered his voice:
— "The Ravenclaws are throwing a secret party tonight."
Draco couldn't help feeling curious. He hadn't known Ravenclaws were even capable of parties — secret or otherwise.
His roommate rubbed his hands together.
— "Overheard two eagles talking. No classes tomorrow — the staff is attending a safety training."
He chuckled at the very notion of school safety.
— "Slytherins weren't invited, of course." Tennant's watery blue eyes turned icy. "But I'm sure you'll sneak in somehow."
— "Will I?" Draco said, feigning boredom.
— "Speaking of your little Ravenclaw. The one with the glasses." Tennant grinned lewdly. "Even the brightest witches want it, don't they? Especially the brightest." His grin widened. "I'm sure you'll enjoy the party, Drakey."
— "They won't let you in."
— "Oh, I'll find my way, don't worry," Tennant reveled in his innuendo. "I've heard Ravenclaws sometimes invite a few select students from other houses. Like our favorite know-it-all from Gryffindor."
Draco stared at his roommate — smug, smirking, carrying on the Dark Lord's legacy in his own petty way. The pounding returned in his temples. I'll never escape this. Never.
— "You think—" Draco began.
— "A-HA!"
A sharp, hissing cry made them both turn. Draco barely held back a groan. Not Granger, thank Salazar, but not much better.
— "You're up to something."
Ginny Weasley stood in a battle-ready stance, wand raised, mirroring Tennant almost exactly. She was once again dressed in black — down to her leather gloves.
— "Now, now, Red," Tennant clearly intended to settle the score after their last encounter. His wand appeared in his hand, and he lazily twirled it with thick fingers. "Let's not get overly excited... just yet."
Weasley, like a bloodhound, circled the faerie section, then suddenly halted and pointed her wand at Tennant:
"Prior Incantato Continuum!"
Draco's jaw dropped as a semi-transparent object floated out of Tennant's wand — a bra, shimmering in the air before vanishing. A memory flashed before his eyes: Astoria running from the shelves, clutching books to her chest. Seriously?
Still, Draco stayed silent — it wasn't worth the risk. The last thing he wanted was for Weasley to pull the same trick on his wand. No one needed to know that his harlequin wand had turned three silver inkwells into fluffy white kittens that morning — and refused to turn them back until Draco had petted the damn things. They didn't bite, but he was sure they wanted to.
Tennant shoved his wand into his pocket, but that didn't help. Echoes of recent spells kept drifting from his coat: a falling book, a strangely-shaped sock, a vial emitting honeysuckle-scented bubbles.
"STOP!" Tennant's voice boomed through the quiet library, loud enough to make even Weasley flinch.
Draco didn't move, distracted by the ghostly pair of nose hair trimmers floating out of Tennant's pocket. The tool snapped rhythmically, glowing hairs falling to the floor. Who even has that much nose hair?
With a roar, Tennant lunged at Weasley, but she deftly dodged. His momentum carried him out of the section; Draco heard his boots clack on stone, followed by Madam Pince's outraged cry:
"MR. ROWLEY!"
A deafening crash of the library door — and then it was just Draco and Weasley, staring at each other.
Draco couldn't help it — he burst into laughter, and Weasley giggled in response. A pink fairy fluttered out of nowhere and landed in her shiny braid. Draco instinctively ran a hand through his own hair and brushed off his jacket — just in case.
"Was that... a sock?" Weasley asked through her laughter.
"An orthopedic sock," Draco replied calmly. He'd learned about them in Muggle Studies, during the health section. The elderly professor had passionately detailed treatment methods for deformed foot bones and corns. It was even worse than the construction unit. Draco was convinced the Ministry had made the course as awful as possible during his probation.
"Orthopedic..." Weasley tried and failed to stifle another laugh.
Draco resisted a smirk."And bath foam."
It took them a while to recover — every time Draco tried to leave, one glance at Weasley's sparkling brown eyes would trigger another round of uncontrollable laughter. But eventually they calmed down, and Weasley slipped back into her usual mildly psychotic state. A second fairy landed on her head, and now all three of them were staring at Draco.
"I'm watching you, Malfoy," she said. "And I can cast that spell on your wand too."
"Wonderful," Draco replied. "I'll be sure to use my wand for a quick wank. I'll put on a show."
Weasley's grin turned into a grimace, then she spun on her heel and marched out of the section. Draco expected her to storm out of the library — maybe after Tennant — but she stopped at the end of the shelves.
Draco circled around another stack to see what had caught her eye — and nearly groaned again. Because there was Blaise. His former friend was once again in the main reading hall of the library, dressed in black and surrounded by stacks of books with bloodstained covers. With a menacing air and sharply arched dark eyebrows, he was studying The Most Vile of Arts. And Theo was worried Draco might damage Slytherin's reputation?
Draco looked around for Madam Pince, but it seemed she had gone off to deliver Tennant's well-deserved punishment — her place behind the desk was now occupied by the Ravenclaw Head Prefect, the less striking of the Patil twins.
"What are you reading?" Weasley pounced on Blaise.
He raised an eyebrow."And a good day to you too, Miss Weasley."
"These books are from the Restricted Section!" she hissed.
"How lovely of you to notice. Today I'm pursuing... independent research."
Draco tensed internally, half-expecting Blaise's head to explode from a Bat-Bogey Hex. What was he thinking, provoking the rabid Weaselette?
"You need special permission for those, Zabini." Her tone reminded Draco of her older brother — the horribly uptight Head Boy.
Blaise placed an elegant hand with long fingers over his chest."Do I? Ah, if only I had a little red tag with Madam Pince's signature on every book..."
Weasley, Draco, and the Head Prefect all stared at Blaise's stack of creepy books — each clearly labeled with a red tag. Blaise closed The Most Vile of Arts and folded his hands atop the thick volume, the picture of polite attentiveness. Draco braced himself for another classic Weasley tantrum. But this witch surprised him — her voice remained icy.
"I'll be watching you, Zabini."
"I look forward to it," Blaise replied.
Weasley left the library. The stowaway fairies rode off with her, still perched in her hair. Blaise returned to reading with a faint, unreadable smile at the corners of his lips.
Draco shook his head. Blaise's interest in that witch had been obvious for years, but this method of courting her — pure madness. The mere fact that someone would try to flirt with Weasley said enough about their instability. She made Tennant nervous, for Merlin's sake. Theo was going to lose it when he found out.
Well, that was Blaise's problem.
Draco stepped away from the shelves — and bumped right into Loony Lovegood, who had apparently been standing behind him the entire time.
"Draco!" Luna exclaimed joyfully. "I was just looking for you."
No longer required to wear a school uniform, Luna now preferred long, flowing robes embroidered with runes. Today, rosemary sprigs stuck out of her pale curls — as if she'd just crawled through an herb garden.
"I'm busy, Lovegood," Draco said, striding toward the library exit, ignoring Blaise's raised brow and the Head Prefect's wary gaze.
The crazy witch, of course, followed him into the corridor, forcing him to stop. Letting her trail him into the Slytherin dungeons was not a good idea.
"I'm very disappointed in you," Luna said reproachfully. "You promised not to be a gentleman."
"What?"
"You promised to flirt with Isobel and try to have wild, dirty sex with her."
"Keep your voice down!" Draco snapped. Was privacy a completely alien concept at this school?
"Isobel told me what happened in the Forbidden Forest," she said. "Or rather, what didn't happen." The Ravenclaw looked at him with unusual sternness. "I expected more from you, Draco."
Draco was stunned. He couldn't believe Luna Lovegood was reprimanding him for, apparently, behaving decently for once in his life. No good deed goes unpunished.
He narrowed his eyes, studying her. What was she playing at? Draco touched his wand in his pocket and gently extended a fine thread of Legilimency toward Luna. So delicately she wouldn't feel a thing.
His cautious touch immediately hit a mental wall of blooming vines. Draco tried to slip through unnoticed, but his magic got tangled in the stems. Was the wand malfunctioning again? No, the spell had been flawless.
He pulled back — and met Luna's clear blue eyes, which reflected everything and nothing at once. There was no doubt. Luna was an Occlumens. One of the best he'd ever encountered.
"Who taught you?" he asked.
"Professor Snape, in fourth year," Luna replied. "I promised to quit Potions if he taught me Occlumency." She smiled. "It wasn't hard, and now the brain-scratchers can't burrow in my mind."
"That's... impossible," Draco said.
"Oh, they're real — oh, you mean the lessons." Her smile widened. "I've always had a very organized mind. Not like yours, Draco. So many voices in there... I'm amazed you manage at all. Not to mention the sex fantasies. You have a very vivid imagination. I think—"
Draco stared at her, speechless. No way had Loony Lovegood just invaded his thoughts and started commenting on his mental state.
Had she seen the fantasies about...
"Luna, is everything alright?"
It was Longbottom — unexpectedly tall, with hands nearly the size of Tennant's. The Gryffindor frowned at Draco, clearly not over past grievances.
"Everything's wonderful, Neville," Luna beamed. "We're having a lovely chat with Draco."
Longbottom was still frowning.
"You promised to help me with the Chizpurfle infestation."
"Try washing your hair more often," Draco advised.
Neville's face darkened even more, but Lovegood laughed.
"Oh, Draco, Chizpurfles prefer plants to people! But you should check your ears, Neville."
Draco smirked. Longbottom gave them both a disapproving look.
"I'll wait for you over there, Luna," he said, and walked to the far end of the corridor.
"So, Draco," Lovegood returned to her original topic. Ravenclaws rarely let anything distract them. "Regarding Isobel, I expected more effective seduction techniques from you."
Draco rolled his eyes. Lately, he couldn't seem to please anyone. Still, he had enough Slytherin cunning to spot an opportunity.
"I heard you Ravenclaws are throwing a party tonight," he said.
Lovegood clapped her hands.
"What a wonderful idea!" she said. "Isobel will be there, and there'll be lots of dark corners for you to grope her in."
Wonderful. Tennant Rowley at a party full of dark corners.
"Any other tips?" Draco asked. "Should I silence her, tie her wrists, and rip off her dress with my teeth?"
At the far end of the hall, Longbottom scowled again — maybe he'd caught a word or two. Draco winked at him.
Lovegood tilted her head.
"Sounds delightful, but it's unnecessary in this case. I'll put you on the guest list."
She pulled out a black-and-white wand with a painfully familiar pattern — and Draco tensed.
"You've got a harlequin wand?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Mr. Ollivander made it for me after I escaped from your dungeons."
Her face lit up.
"Maybe you saw my old wand, Draco — applewood, unicorn hair core, nine inches? I dropped it when the Snatchers dragged me by the hair."
"Honestly, I don't think—"
"Check near the second turn on the stairs to the dungeons. There should be a bloodstain... I hit my head on the corner and—"
"I'll check, Lovegood," he cut her off sharply.
Of course, he had no intention of checking. He had enough nightmares of his own.
"I think I'll keep the harlequin wand anyway," the Ravenclaw girl continued. "The war is over, after all."
"Don't you think it lacks power?"
"Only if you fight it," Lovegood replied. "But if you let it have a little fun, it'll give you everything it's got."She pulled a scrap of parchment from her robe and tapped it gently with her wand. The parchment folded into a butterfly and flitted around Longbottom's head before landing again on Luna's open palm.
"What are you doing?" Draco demanded.
"It's not me, it's the harlequin. Just a bit of fun." The parchment unfolded again, and Lovegood tapped it once more with her wand.
"There, you're on the list now," Lovegood said. "Ravenclaw Library, eight o'clock. The portrait entrance is ten and a half feet to the left of the main door." She glanced around and sighed. "Oh, Neville's restless. Chizpurfles."
"Am I the only Slytherin on the list?" Draco tried to peek at the parchment as she tucked it back into her robes.
"Oh yes, just you. Theodore Nott would like to come too, obviously, but I think he's terribly boring. See you tonight, Draco."
She left him — very pleased to have found a fun Death Eater to grope her friend. Then she approached Longbottom, who flinched and clapped his hands over his ears the moment they headed off down the corridor.
Draco let himself slump against the stone wall. Salazar, Lovegood had drained him. And he hated parties.