Terrence chuckled, which turned into a laugh, and for some reason he just couldn't stop laughing. The whole thing was too funny, really; they'd blown up the fucking castle. So what if he'd had an unlikely accomplice? If anything, that made it better.
And they were not going to get caught. He'd see to that. "Draco fucking Malfoy," he said. "No, I'm not joking. He has a store of potions ingredients that would make - well, it would make some douche jealous, I'm sure. Some other douche without a life."
He had honestly never understood other people's fascination with things. They only interested Terrence when they were useful. But he'd never really had a hobby, like potions making, or like Z's thing for cursed objects. Things passed in and out of Terrence's life when they gained and lost usefulness.
People were much more interesting, almost never failed to be interesting, even when they weren't useful. Well, unless they were giant arsewipes. Fortunately, his current company was not in that category. And interestingly, they seemed to share another common enemy.
He gestured to the journal. "Waiting sounds good, but you should hex all your old entries private. You know how to do that?"