Alone

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This picture is of an African Blackwood tree, on which I based the magical Darkwood in this story. Originally Narcissa sent Draco a nice chestnut wand, but halfway through the story I decided he needed something with more rarity, power and magical personality. The Darkwood met the challenge so well that it became the title character! (Previously the Vanishing Spell was the title character.)

Malfoy left me!

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Malfoy left me!

LEFT ME!

Where's Tennant?

Did he see me?

Where's my WAND?

Hermione yanked the bed curtains shut, not daring to peek out. A door slammed. Book ... watch ... flower ... really, who needs this many pillows? Aha. Her fingers closed over her wand and she quickly threw up new wards so no one could enter the bed.

The room's ambient light shone through gauzy curtains starched stiff with magic. A clock tolled with deep, rolling tones. Malfoy had clearly stormed off in high dungeon. Merlin, how had things gone south so quickly?

It's alright. Breathe in. Breathe out. Slow. If Tennant was here, she would have heard him by now. Hermione steadied herself and cast a second layer of undetectable wards with a few nasty surprises.

But wards dissipated. She had maybe three hours before these started to weaken, and Tennant could turn up at any time. There would be no sleep tonight. She should've brought the Map. Ginny would be so disappointed. Constant vigilance!

Hermione sat back on the pillows, wand at her side. A trace of rich cologne lingered in the air, and she thought of Malfoy asleep in the same spot. Book on his lap. Glasses askew. Like that sleeping shepherd in classical mythology ... Endymort? ... Endymood? The one seduced by the moon goddess. In the story, Selene had charmed the boy to be forever immortal—and forever asleep, unconscious to her kisses. Selene might be on to something there, Hermione mused. She bet Endy had been a giant pain while awake.

Now, now, men have feelings, too, Neville's voice lectured.

Like Hermione didn't know that. Hadn't she spent years fussing over Harry and Ron's feelings? It wasn't her fault Malfoy hid all of his in favor of brooding around the castle in a weirdly seductive way. Not that Hermione herself deserved an O for emotional intelligence tonight, she'd just turned up and started kissing ...

The bed's floating candle popped and crackled, and Hermione started, red sparks leaping from her wand. The carved wooden snakes slid down their bedposts to hide under the bedding. She waited for her heart to start again, then eased back on the pillows and cracked open Malfoy's wandmaking book. Neville had given her some ideas and more than ever, they needed to break this spell.

She began flipping pages, trying to settle her body and distract her mind. Wandmaking. Magic and wood. Since wands were conduits of magic as well as instruments of magic themselves, the spells cast when making a wand were quite delicate. The book fell open to a passage marked with a green ribbon:

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