The Darkwood Wand

Cultivation

"The Forbidden Forest?" Draco repeated. He frowned down at MacDougal, who was holding the Belladonna pot away from her body to avoid the dripping berry juices. He could hear faint sizzling sounds and little black spots appeared on the grass.

"Of course," MacDougal said with a smile. "There's a lovely patch just inside the border."

Draco hesitated. He bore little love for the Forest at the best of times, never forgetting that horrible night in First Year when he saw the Dark Lord (although he'd learned only later who it was) drinking unicorn blood. All manner of animals lurked in there, and rumors spoke of a small giant and a herd of centaurs. And huge spiders ...

"Come along, Mr. Malfoy," MacDougal ordered. "This plant will be happier with its own kind."

Draco grunted. He very much doubted that. But that wasn't his problem. At least it wouldn't be under his bed anymore.

MacDougal selected a shaded spot close to the Forest edge. She did all the planting, of course, pulling dragonhide gloves from her bag and arranging the Belladonna's droopy branches just so. Draco withdrew to a safe distance to lie on the grass under a nearby tree. After a moment she joined him.

"We should wait a bit and see if it takes," she said. Their plant looked even more wretched among its larger, glossy brethren, who loomed over the new addition menacingly.

"Yes, let's wait," Draco agreed. He hadn't seen any animals except for squirrels, and the fresh air and shade had settled his nerves. His hand didn't tremble at all as he reached out and tucked a smooth blond lock behind MacDougal's ear.

"Thank you for saving my little plant," Draco said, leaning closer.

"You're welcome?" The girl's voice squeaked at the last questioning syllable. But she didn't move away, and Draco would only have to dip his head the slightest bit to brush his lips against hers.

But he didn't. He didn't kiss her gently. He didn't slide a hand over her blue cardigan and under that sensible skirt. He didn't murmur soft compliments. He didn't do any of the things he'd planned. He didn't even pursue the sweet apple scent of her hair.

Instead Draco remained still. The ground was cold and hard, with dampness seeping into his back. The wand in his trousers dug into his thigh, and he wondered what time it was. His appetite was returning, and he wouldn't say no to a little lunch. Don't be an idiot, he scolded himself. Kiss her. Why are you thinking about lunch?

"I'm not thinking about lunch," MacDougal said, squinting up at him.

Draco blinked. "What?" He needed to stop muttering his thoughts aloud. He did that last night, too, calling Granger terrifying. Well, she is terrifying, he argued (silently this time). The witch walked around looking ready to swallow the whole world and spit out the parts that disagreed with her ...

"We need to get back to the castle," she said, standing. Draco blinked and reached out a hand, but she was already striding over to the Belladonna seedling. "I think it will—"

The leaves to her right rustled and a small object zinged out of the shrubbery, missing MacDougal's head by inches and ricocheting off a tree trunk. Draco leaped to his feet, wand out.

"What in Salazar was—" he began.

The bushes rustled again and another projectile spun through the air, aiming straight for Draco, who deflected it with his wand. The object fell into a pile of red-gold leaves, and MacDougal dove after it.

"What are you doing?" Draco grabbed her arm. "We need to get out of here!" Centaurs roamed this Forest he knew, armed with slings and bows. The two of them could be under attack—animals were capable of anything.