The Darkwood Wand

Night Two-Nectere

"What the fuck," Malfoy groaned.

"Yes, Malfoy, that's what I'd like to know."

Hermione crossed her arms to hide the trembling. This was very, very bad. Nineteen happy years with no thought of Draco Malfoy's bed and now here she was again. This wouldn't help her nightmares at all.

She expected him to start abusing her, or even hex her, since apparently he'd picked up a new wand. But Malfoy just sat there, rubbing his head and looking annoyed.

Hermione remained silent as well, since shrieking like a banshee wouldn't help. At least it didn't help last time. Plus, there was the small fact that Malfoy held a wand and she did not. Silly girl, thinking she could put her wand on the nightstand before sleep like a normal person. She would start attaching it to her body with a sticking charm again.

They were locked in a staring game, the only sounds their tense breaths in the small space. The little gold light of Malfoy's wand cast thin shadows along his jaw and the lines of his torso.

"Well," he finally said. "Aren't you the surprise."

Hermione looked down at herself—she wore only a camisole and pink knickers. She didn't even have a blanket, since her bedding hadn't made the trip this time.

Malfoy was smirking now. "You didn't cast the counterspell, did you, Granger?"

"I certainly did, Malfoy." She glared at the nearly naked wizard. Too bad he hadn't shed some of his terrible personality along with his suit.

"Then you bungled it," he said with great confidence. "On purpose."

"I didn't ... I ..."

He leaned forward, his eyes shining silver. "You did."

Hermione tried to respond, but could only gasp and flap her hands. Malfoy shifted closer, and she scrabbled away, her face hot. Her back hit the warded curtain.

Malfoy advanced again.

What is he playing at? The man should be hiding under the covers keening about her Mudblood taint, not chasing her across the bed. And now he was leaning into her, a wing of white-blond fringe sweeping over one eye. His lower lip caught on hers, the slightest of touches.

Draco Malfoy just kissed me. On purpose!

"Admit it," he whispered. "You wanted to come back."

"No, no," Hermione stammered. Merlin, she had to pull herself together.

"I cast the spell as you said," she added firmly. "Intermissum Harmonia Nectere. A precise circle at 30-degree intervals."

"The spell requires careful casting," Malfoy said. "A gentle hand." He touched a finger to her lower lip. "Intermissum Harmonia Nectere." He brushed her upper lip. "Intermissum Harmonia Nectere."

Hermione shivered as that sinful voice repeated the incantation like she was an object to enchant. He tapped her lip again.

"Were you gentle, Granger?"

"N-no," she admitted.

"Why not?" His voice was patient.

Hermione's face burned; she could hardly look at him. "I was angry."

Malfoy's grey eyes gleamed. "Show me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione said in freezing tones. At least that was how she responded in her mind. Her actual response was a little squeaked-out "Do-ri!"

Malfoy raised a brow. "I didn't quite catch that."

Fine. Hermione slapped her palm on his mouth. "Intermissum Harmonia Nectere!"