The Darkwood Wand

Night Eleven-Plans

Draco slammed into the library, his polished shoes skidding on the stone floor. He'd left lunch early to research the Vanishing Spell before Divination. The Head Girl manning the librarian's desk acknowledged his noisy entrance with a Pince-like sniff.

As he wound through the library's tall shelves, Draco could feel the darkwood wand in his pocket react to its surroundings: A Hufflepuff boy's dragging shoelaces tied up into jaunty bows; a half-door swung open for a tiny girl carrying a stack of books. Draco moved toward the back of the library, trying to ignore spilled inkpots righting themselves and chairs sliding neatly under tables. A buxom Slytherin witch—one of Tennant's harem—gave Draco a hooded look as he passed, then gasped as her open shirt buttoned itself up to her chin.

"This wand will demand honor, Mr. Malfoy." Ollivander's words echoed in Draco's mind. Splendid. Just what he needed. More honor in his life.

Draco continued his circuit, pulling books on enchanted objects and exotic woods and even xylomancy as well as an issue of Granger's woodworking magazine. Then he carried it all to his favorite corner, trying to ignore the slap of books straightening on the shelves as he passed.

He settled behind the table and was immediately diverted by the magazine's cover story: "What's Your Tree? Wizards and Their Woods." Draco snickered and pulled out his quill to complete the Personality Plant Survey. Did he prefer simple or divided leaves? (divided, of course). Did he drop his foliage? (only for you, darling). Favorite season? He wrote "winter," adding "I like all the dead trees." The next section included a list of personality features and told Draco to circle three that described himself: He circled "intelligent," "tolerant" and "low-maintenance."

An amused snort stilled Draco's hand, and he looked up to see Granger drop into the seat opposite him. She was still wearing that awful jumper and her hair looked ready to spring out of its thin ribbon and run out the door.

Draco found himself gaping and quickly reordered his features. He wasn't used to Granger popping out at him during the day. The darkwood wand in his pocket began smoothing her stray curls and mending a raggedly knitted spot on her shoulder. Oh, Salazar.

Fortunately, the witch wasn't looking at him, or noticing the ink stain vanishing from her little finger. She was too busy reading Draco's magazine quiz upside down, totaling his score and evaluating the result.

"Pear wood, Malfoy?" she asked, tapping the pages with a short-nailed finger. "I had no idea you were so warm-hearted, generous and wise."

Draco smirked. "It also says pear wood is one of the most sensual and satisfying of hardwoods."

Granger flushed. "That quiz is entirely... what are you doing?"

Draco's hand had closed over hers, her skin soft against his palm. Granger tried to tug it away, but he held fast, his other hand touching the wand in his pocket.

"Accio harlequin wand," he whispered. The checkered wand shot out from under her right sleeve, and he pulled his hand out of his pocket and caught the harlequin with Seeker reflexes.

"Neville told me about those wands," Granger said, "that they—Malfoy!"

Draco was now raising her hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles as he discreetly looked around. The Head Girl's eyes were firmly on her book—for now—and there were no other students in sight.

"Shhh," Draco said into her hand, turning it to brush his lips over her palm. Granger shivered. "This is a library." His lips moved down her wrist, brushing the surprisingly soft yarn of her jumper.

"Malfoy," she hissed. "This isn't your bedroom."

All the voices in Draco's head united into a single What in Merlin are you doing? but he ignored them. "Do you think you can swipe my wand without consequences, Granger?" he asked.