The Darkwood Wand

Night Nine-Advice

I hope you liked the Grumpy Staircase! All I had to go on was a label on the Marauders' Map in the Half-Blood Prince film. Now we return to Draco's room, where he and Tennant have a nice chat ...

Draco entered his bedroom to find Tennant sprawled on the sofa, jacket off, swilling firewhiskey from the bottle. The bloodstained bandage around the wizard's fat head filled Draco with foreboding.

"What happened to you?" Draco asked.

"Gryffindor bitch."

No surprise there. It had to be Granger. Day One of Tennant Tracking and already there were casualties. What happened? Why did she attack Tennant? Did he retaliate? Did he ... Is she ...

She's fine. Fine. Draco risked a glance at the room's grandfather clock: nine-fifty. Already? He needed to keep Tennant on that sofa with his back to Draco's bed.

Draco poured himself a glass of firewhiskey, blowing on the rim to light the heatless flames. Then he settled into his velvet armchair opposite the sofa and regarded Tennant with an amusement he didn't feel.

"A Gryffindor, eh?" he drawled. "Weasley?"

"Granger." Tennant stared moodily into the fire. "This shit never happens at Durmstrang. Our girls know their place. They don't hit you with books and fucking staircases."

Draco's drink halted halfway to his lips. He didn't see how the latter was possible: Hogwarts staircases were famously resistant to any but repairing and maintenance spells. Generations of students had tried to charm them into cooperating. Draco himself had melted down in Fourth Year trying to move a shifted staircase that made him late for McGonagall's class.

He sipped his whiskey. "I'm sure she had her reasons."

"I didn't do anything." Tennant's voice was sullen.

"Oh? You just walked up to her and said, 'Hello, Miss Granger' and she hit you with a staircase?"

Tennant pouted. "I was just taking what she was offering." He took another swig of whiskey. "Said she would polish me every Sunday."

Against all proper Death Eater etiquette, Draco blinked. "You must have heard her wrong."

"Oh, I heard her right." Tennant's lips turned down. "Cunt distracted me, then almost killed me."

Draco wasn't convinced. Granger was supposed to be tracking Tennant, not luring him into ambushes.

"L'il witch was hiding from me," Tennant continued, savoring the words. "Took most of the night, but I got her on the floor in that little skirt, knees up. What would you have done, Drakey?"

Draco drained his glass, pushing away the image.

"Ah, just look at you," Tennant said. "Gagging for it." His red-rimmed eyes pinned Draco's. "How long have you shared classes with that Mudblood? Six years? I've known the bint for six weeks and already I want to destroy her in every possible way. What the fuck are you waiting for?"

A thin trickle of magic tapped at Draco's mind, seeking an answer, and Draco slammed up his Occumancy shields, glad to cut himself off from his feelings.

"Stay the fuck out of my head,' Draco said coldly. "I've been quite indulgent with you, Tennant, but I've had just about enough."

Tennant snickered. "Oh, have you now."

"Yes, I have." Draco stood and drew his wand. "You think you can come here, insult me, degrade my House, and I'd do nothing?" He waved his wand hand. "Fill my rooms with your sparkly rubbish?"