Tea with the Black Dragon

TEA WITH THE BLACK DRAGON

Disclaimer: I owe everything in this story to J.K. Rowling. Everything submitted here was done so for the sole purpose of my entertainment and hopefully, the enjoyment of any readers. No money was, is or will be made for this fiction work.
Author\'s Note: Any similarities within this story to otherstinsting fictions are inadvertent and purely coincidental. However, this story,its its most basic form, is a simple romance and hasn don done many times over.

Credit: The title of this story is taken from a fantasy novel written by R.A. McAvoy. Future reference concerning Snape\'s wand is courtesy of the generous Quillusion and her idea in the story Choose Your Weapon.

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^^^^^I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.^^^^^Tennessee Williams (A Streetcar Named Desire)
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Chapter One - I bore this wren

Hogwarts - Spring of HP\'s 6th year

Dumbledore gently untied the rolled parchment from the post owl and gave the bird a small treat, eyeing it with curty. ty. It was a monstrous Great Gray owl, the size of a small dog, and it pounced on the small piece of meat with ferocious enthusiasm. Even Fawkes, who once braved a basilisk to help Harry, regarded the bird with some concern.

The old wizard turned his attention to the letter, recognizing the Durmstrang seal stamped in black wax. The seal vibrated beneath his fingertips, a warning of additional charms placed on the letter for privacy. Bushy white brows rose in surprise. Long had it been since he had received a missive from his old friend and classmate, Theophilus Pines. This would prove to be interesting. He suspected the password to break the charms hadn\'t changed, and smiled at the thought that Pines, being who he was, had changed little as well. \"Gold bars,\" he murmured and the wax seal snapped apart, unfurling the tightly rolled parchment.

Dumbledore\'s assumption was correct as he recognized the tight, neat scrawl of Durmstrang\'s Potions master. He relaxed back into his chair, eyes narrowing with thought, and began reading.

*Greetings Albus,

I hope this letter finds you well at Hogwarts. Now that we are through with the niceties, I will coo tho the point of my contact. I request a favor from you.

This concerns a sixth year student by the name of Grace Draven. You may remember her mother, Helena Draven. I believe she attended Hogwarts until her seventh year. Her daughter came to us when she was twelve. We had some difficulty issuing her acceptance letter, as she was well hidden within Muggle society. Despite her late start, she has performed quite well in her classes here at Durmstrang. However, she has no equal among her peers or the seventh years in regards to Potions. It has been my sincerest pleasure having such a gifted student in my classes, and I had hoped to convince her to apprentice with me once she graduated from Durmstrang.*

Dumbledore\'s mouth quirked. High praise indeed, considering the source. The girl must be truly brilliant in the subject to earn such compliments from this particular Potions master. Theophilus was a hard taskmaster, no more inclined than Severus was to make any positive remarks concerning his students. He continued reading.

*To my disappointment, fate has chosen to intervene with my plans. Miss Draven has recently come under the attention of one of your esteemed governors, Lucius Malfoy. As you know, it is dangerous to attract such notice, especially for someone like Miss Draven, whose father was, to our meager knowledge, a Muggle.*

Albus found it amusing that someone could actually write a sneer into the word \"esteemed\".

*How she has managed to avoid his regard for this long remains a mystery to me, considering he visits here often and Miss Draven, shall we say, stands out in a crowd. Once you have finished this letter, tap your finger against the illumination of gold coins at the bottom of the page. It will reveal a photograph. While I, myself, cannot truly appreciate her appearance, I have observed enough reaction from our human male population, both young and old, to know that she is blessed with an uncommon beauty.

I have digressed. Because of the development I have described above, I feel Miss Draven will not be able to apply herself to her studies, as necessary, while here at Durmstrang. It would be a waste to see this exceptional student abandon all she has worked for before she graduates in order to guard her own welfare. It is my hope that you will consider accepting her into Hogwarts as a transfer student so that she may complete her education in relative safety and security.

Albus, I ask this, not only on behalf of my best student, but also as a personal favor to me. I truly believe she will be an asset to the Hogwarts student body. I have no doubt, that with time, even Severus will realize her abilities in Potions and consider taking her on as an apprentice, should she express the interest in continuing her studies under his tutelage.

Miss Draven has been made aware of my plans and agrees that it is best that she not remain at Durmstrang any longer than necessary. As such, we await your reply with anticipation.

Regards to you and your staff,

Theophilus Pines, Potions master
Durmstrang*

Dumbledore located the illumination at the end of the letter and tapped his forefinger against it. The picture dissolved to reveal a photograph of Miss Draven. He whistled softly under his breath. The girl was lovely. He did indeed remember her mother, Helena. Blonde and vivacious, with a cherubic face, she had been pretty but nothing more. Her daughter must have inherited her looks from her Muggle father. Her braided hair was dark, contrasting sharply with a complexion as pale and smooth as fine porcelain. She had a facial structure, that while still in the first bloom of womanhood, revealed the promise of refinement with age. He admired the delicate cheekbones and straight, elegant nose, but what caught his attention most was the stubborn set of her chin and her eyes. A deep gray beneath expressive black brows, those eyes gazed back at him with a hint of laughter and a serene wisdom that belied her years. Albus was intrigued by that unusually old expression, so at odds with the young face, and ondeondered what kind of life this girl had led in the Muggle world before coming to Durmstrang.

Like Theophilus, he was at a loss to figure out how she escaped Malfoy\'s notice until now. Lucius was well respected at Durmstrang and received with much greater warmth and fanfare during his visits there than anything displayed when making an appearance at Hogwarts. And he agreed with the Potions master. She was now in imminent danger. Lucius loathed anyone who wasn\'t a pure blood, but it wouldn\'t stop him from pursuing this girl to satisfy any nefarious interest he had in her. Gauging by the photograph of Miss Draven, those interests were not difficult to discern. Malfoy\'s various escapades were known but not publicly acknowledged by the Durmstrang staff. He was, after all, one of their benefactors, both extremely wealthy and influential within the Ministry of Magic, and the wizard community as a whole.

Dumbledore considered Miss Draven\'s dilemma. It was to her credit that, as a half blood, she had not only endured her time at Durmstrang, but also obviously excelled in many of her classes. Durmstrang was not Hogwarts and housed such dangers within its ancient walls that it made Hogwarts look like a simple country cottage, with Fluffy as its big, friendly mutt to greet you at the door. Even Lucius, who despite his greater popularity there and the school\'s reputation for teaching the Dark Arts, had chosen to send Draco to Hogwarts. A reluctant and silent acknowledgement that his son did not possess the strength of character needed to succeed in a place where survival of the fittest wasen ten the rule of the day. Albus had little doubt that after six years as a Durmstrang student, Miss Draven would easily adjust to the more congenial atmosphere of Hogwarts.

The headmaster tapped a finger against his chin for a moment, then leaned forward, grabbed his quill and a sheet of clean parchment, and began to write. For a few moments the only sounds in the room were the scratching of a quill tip on paper and the steady hum of Fawkes\' voice as he swayed on his perch.

Once he finished, Dumbledore sanded the parchment, rolled it tightly, stamped his seal to bind it and muttered a quick charm. The giant owl, which had finished its treat and waited patiently for the reply, stretched out its foot so the missive could be tied to its leg. With a soft hoot and the silent flap of enormous wings, it flew out the open window to return home.

Albus rose to make his way to the dungeons with news he was certain would annoy his own Potions master to no end.
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