Raising an eyebrow, he drawls, "What, that wasn't the entire point?" and then shrugs. "He was using her more and more. I noted the tendency in time to prepare." With a distinct note of smugness, "It wasn't just the Draught. I rather believe I scraped together Mithridates' Season. Since I wasn't getting anywhere with the antivenin."
His mouth quirks up. "I took Draco to a bolt-hole and drove him mad with inaction, dingy surroundings, and terrible food. I drove him particularly mad on a day I knew Potter to be in the area. Half-raised by Weasleys, it was almost beyond conception that he could have resisted a stray, and the accuracy of his impressions of Draco's positions and state of mind over the years have been in nearly inverse proportion to those of mine."
"You aren't alone in that," he says, far too blandly. "In fact, you may meet a contemporary here." Shrugging a little, "You could be corrupted or differently aligned and stringing me along, of course. Or I you, for that matter, I suppose," he adds dubiously, since spy he may be but Mata Hari he is not.
"Well," he stretches out a little on the wickerwork, "there was an eclipse that lasted a full month. Half of the... imports, let's say, are being followed around by ghosts at the moment. Last month a number of imports experienced a dramatic shift in their age, in one direction or another." Shrugging irritably, "The natives never seem to take much notice."
Yep. The three of them turned into a terrier, a sparrow, and a red squirrel. It was great for camouflage and the Horcrux hunt in general, and so thoroughly and adorably British. ^.^ Draco ended up as a dragonfly, I regret. 9.9