The Darkwood Wand

Night One - Shock

Warnings: Violence, threats and general mayhem.

"Somehow," Hermione Granger said, "I am not reassured."

Draco fell back on the mattress, unable to speak, both from surprise and the brutal kick to his stomach. He couldn't see a thing—the bed was completely dark with the curtains closed. Wheezing, he tried to speak. Granger? How ...

"Accio wand," the witch said crisply and he heard the sound of wood smacking against a palm. "Mors stimulus tuus!"

The Stinging Jinx. Draco braced himself for an onslaught of painful welts, but Granger held his hawthorn wand, and it fought her, emitting red sparks. She yelped as the sparks flashed into flames, and a terrible snapping sound rang in the enclosed space, extinguishing the wand's fiery light.

Draco found his voice. "Bitch! You broke my wand!"

He lunged, catching hold of a leg, but a resounding hit to the face by a blunt object made him release her. Granger had found Dodonus' book of prophecies. Another hit to the top of the head nearly knocked Draco silly, and he fell onto his back again.

"Tempus!" he cried.

His pocket watch atop a pillow snapped open, its thin white light revealing Granger on her knees beside him, book held high over her head, poised to deliver the killing blow. The witch wore a tiny white top and matching shorts and her hair was a dark, wild storm cloud. She loomed over him like an avenging goddess and Draco had never been so shocked and aroused in his entire life. Speak, you fool—speak!

"Listen, I—" His words were cut off as the book descended again, this time squarely on his nose and Draco howled in pain. Rage overcame shock and he sat up, knocked the book aside and shoved Granger backward. He was on her in an instant, pinning her wrists to the mattress.

She glared up at him in the pale light, undaunted. "I cannot wait to hear your explanation for this, Malfoy."

Draco struggled to comprehend the enormity of the situation. How could this possibly happen?

"I'll see you back in Azkaban, you sick bastard!" Granger railed. "Sneaking into witches' beds and molesting—"

His hands on her wrists tightened at the mention of Azkaban. "Not so fast," he said. "I'm not in your bed. You're in mine."

Her eyes widened, and Draco rose to his knees and dragged her to a sitting position. The watch's light picked out the silver bed curtains, snake bedposts and Slytherin crest on the canopy.

Then he pushed her down again. "Yes, Granger," he crooned, "you're in the Slytherin dungeons, in my hands and my bed."

Granger looked horrified; her eyes shifted to the Dark Mark just inches from her face.

Draco sneered. "Care to threaten me some more?"

"Release me now, or I'll—"

"Or you'll what? I'm supposed to just let you leave? Find your way out of the dungeons without a wand?" He smirked. "Hermione Granger, caught sneaking out of Draco Malfoy's bed in the middle of the night." He looked significantly at her thin white top. "Whatever will people think?"

Granger struggled, trying to bring up her knee, but he had her legs pinned with his body. "I'll take my chances," she spat.

No, that wasn't happening. If she woke Tennant ... Tennant ... "You will do no such thing," he told her. "You will lie still and listen or I swear I'll throttle you."