In Tom's Study
Tom sent an owl to Draco as soon as the response to Mia flew off on Croix's talons. He's been waiting in his study for him, pouring over an old spell book written in Medieval Latin.
There's something comforting in old books of power. It's the smell of the parchment, perhaps, or the promise of accomplishment when one achieves a spell. Books are solid, unchanging (except for the moving pictures), helpful. They never hold things against you. Well, maybe some of them are enchanted to do that kind of thing, but Tom doesn't have any in his library.
Once Draco steps through the painting, Tom closes the book and conjures over a scotch for the younger man. Drawing up another chair with his wand, he leans back in his own.
"Hullo, Draco."
There's something comforting in old books of power. It's the smell of the parchment, perhaps, or the promise of accomplishment when one achieves a spell. Books are solid, unchanging (except for the moving pictures), helpful. They never hold things against you. Well, maybe some of them are enchanted to do that kind of thing, but Tom doesn't have any in his library.
Once Draco steps through the painting, Tom closes the book and conjures over a scotch for the younger man. Drawing up another chair with his wand, he leans back in his own.
"Hullo, Draco."