The Darkwood Wand

Night Ten-Stitches

The instant Granger arrived Tuesday night, Draco could tell the witch had something on her mind. She was holding a book and wearing full pajamas, but at least they weren't plaid.

"Is Tennant here?" she asked in a rush.

Draco consulted the Map. "No. He's with Tracey Davis." Draco nearly shivered at the name. That Slytherin half-blood was beyond dangerous. Tennant could wake tomorrow morning choking on Amorentia, fighting off Davis' pygmy crocodile, or tangled in a soul-binding rite.

"Alright then." Granger tucked the book into her bag and reached for the Map.

"Oh no you don't," Draco said, holding it up and away from her. "There's no point in you tracking Tennant tracking you."

"What will I do then?"

Draco shrugged. He didn't care, as long as she stayed away from Tennant.

"If only we had two Maps," Granger said thoughtfully. "Or at least one that tracks only Tennant. I bet the Marauders Map was created as a dowsing guide. They probably used a crystal pendulum to make it, then enchanted it to work on ..."

"You don't know that," Draco broke in. She could be right, but Merlin, he couldn't have Granger roving the castle with her Tennant Map and crystal pendulum. His life was complicated enough.

"Thief's Downfall, then," she said. "We could brew some to reveal Tennant under Polyjuice." Granger settled cross-legged on the coverlet so she could more comfortably spin out her mad ideas. "But people might notice a waterfall in the middle of a corridor. I know, some sort of mist ... what do you think?"

Draco thought it was a terrible idea. Only goblins knew how to make that potion. And even if it the two of them succeeded, what was she going to do, run around spraying Thief's Downfall on anyone who looked suspicious? Merlin, she probably would.

"Is that my camellia?" Granger asked suddenly.

It was. The elves kept leaving the still-blooming flower on his pillow every night after making the bed. Annoyed, Draco picked up his wand and nonverbally cast a small Wingardium Leviosa. But instead of floating off the pillow, the camellia exploded, raining petals everywhere. Granger looked around, eyes wide, and Draco gritted his teeth. Fucking wand.

"Why, Malfoy," she said with a grin. "How very ...er ... romantic."

Draco scowled.

"Will there be violins as well?" she inquired politely. "Champagne on ice?"

He sighed. "Just vanish them, Granger."

She gave a long, regretful sigh, then drew her wand. "Oh, very well. Evanesco."

But the petals didn't vanish, they only multiplied, and Granger laughed so hard she dropped her wand. "You did that on purpose," Draco snapped, reaching for the vinewood.

"I did not!" Granger threw a handful of petals in his face as she grabbed for her wand again, but Draco was quicker. He rolled over the vinewood and she landed on top of him, her face inches from his.

"You're on my wand," she gasped.

"I might say the same."

Granger rolled her eyes, but there was a tiny quirk to the edge of her mouth. Light from the bed's floating candle burnished her still-smoothed hair in gold. Draco touched the ribbon holding it back and the ribbon unraveled, releasing the brown cascade.

"Malfoy," Granger whispered. "We need to ..."

"Yes, we do," Draco said softly. His hands slid into her hair and brought her lips down to his.