The Darkwood Wand

Revelry, Part Three

 Some readers have wondered why Hermione and Draco just don't turn Tennant in. I'm guessing that they, along with Ginny and Tennant and other older students, came out of the war with a profound distrust of authority. Plus the insistence that they know best and trust only themselves. Tennant did wiggle out of any convictions from his time with the Death Eaters, after all.

Anyway, have fun at the party and try the Prophetic Cheese Plate. Isobel is front and center, and she delivers one of my favorite lines in the story.

Love, 

Thebe

Draco stood alone in the Ravenclaw party's lab room, scowling after Granger and Lovegood. Malfoys were not dismissed. They were not ordered about. He had half a mind to ignore Granger's command to find Tennant and return to his bedroom. The witch was due to arrive in his bed in forty minutes and he would make her understand, make her ...

"Draco?" Isobel stood before him, squinting up through her spectacles, which she was wearing again.

"What?" he snapped, and she flinched. Draco sighed—none of this was her fault, and yelling at a Ravenclaw was a quick way to get thrown out of the party.

"What is it, Isobel?" he asked more gently.

Isobel looked down at the sheer sleeve of her black dress, where Draco saw the outline of a small piece of parchment. Salazar, what now?

"Draco ..."

The girl took a deep breath and started again.

"Draco, I've very much enjoyed getting to know you, and it's nice to see you're not steeped in evil."

Draco frowned.

"You can be quite charming, too," Isobel went on shyly. "Although I'm surprised to find you so hopeless with your schoolwork. But I'm sure you'll do better once you apply yourself," she added, worried she'd offended him.

Draco just gave a resigned nod, however, and so she continued: "I believe, however, that circumstances dictate a ... a ... ah, excuse me."

The Ravenclaw looked at her arm, reading the parchment through her sleeve, and nodded. Draco nearly groaned; it appeared that Isobel was presenting a prepared statement. Bloody Ravenclaws.

"Ah, yes," the girl said more strongly, "circumstances dictate a more appropriate approach to ..." She glanced at her crib sheet again.

"Isobel, for Salazar's sake, just read what you want to say." Draco glanced around the room, keeping an eye on the door that led deeper into the library.

"Oh, thank you." Relieved, the witch pulled out the parchment.

"Draco, I have enjoyed getting to know you and am glad to see that tales of your scheming and depravity have been somewhat exaggerated."

"Only somewhat?" Draco drawled.

Isobel ignored this, continuing to read doggedly. "I am also gratified that you have chosen to turn to me for the academic help you so desperately need, and assisting you with your elementary problems has been quite rewarding."

"Isobel," Draco growled.

"However, in my own judgment and upon consultation with others, I feel that a romantic relationship with you, while an intriguing prospect with your seductive, bad-boy persona that simply cries out for the reforming touch of a good girl ..."