DRAGON'S HEARTSTRINGS || dramione | harry potter

Chapter Twenty-Two

For Hermione, having no wand felt like losing all four of her limbs. She couldn't do anything on her own, and it made her feel helpless. The next morning, she wandered aimlessly through the Manor, having nothing better to do but help Mipsy cook. They made breakfast, and when it appeared in front of Draco on the dining table, he lifted his eyes to her.

"Thank you," he said.

She avoided his eyes. "You're welcome. I had nothing to do, so scrambled eggs it is."

They both dug into their food, but she felt his gaze on her the entire time.

"I'll get you another wand," he said, his voice firm and hard.

Hermione finally looked at him. "It's okay, I'll be alright." That was a lie. "By the way, you should stay at home. I don't want you to go out anywhere, not after killing Bellatrix. Voldemort might already know."

"I don't care," he said. "I need to kill him, so I'll have to face him one way or another. But first, I'll get you a wand so you're not weaponless when I'm gone."

She stared at him, the implication of his final words hitting her right in the chest.

"We need to kill You-Know-Who, Draco, not you, not on your own. I'm here to help, understand?" Hermione said harshly, putting her hand on his to soften her words.

She saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. "Fine. There's Aunt Bella's wand still left. You could try taming it. Perhaps it'll work."

Hermione sighed, then nodded, having little hopes that she could manage Bellatrix's oddly shaped wand that probably murdered thousands if not hundreds of thousands of people.

"Okay," she agreed despite her doubts. "I will try it out."

After breakfast, Hermione went to retrieve Bellatrix's wand from the locket up drawer where Draco had put her clothes and other belongings after dissolving the body with poison. He was telling the truth when he said that the poison he concocted will do wonders – when the Hermione went outside first thing that morning, there was nothing left on the ground where Bellatrix's body lay save for a clump of a black dress, shoes with socks still in them, and some silver jewelry.

She took the wand with trembling fingers and inspected it carefully. It was long and crooked like a poorly healed broken bone. It was made of walnut and, from what Hermione gathered, the string was of Thestral tail hair. She tried to bend it, but it was hard, unyielding; she remembered how the wand wobbled in Bellatrix's bony fingers, but now the wand showed no such elasticity.

Hermione went to one of the least furnished rooms on the first floor of the Manor where she was sure to be able to practice without breaking too many important things. Without even casting the first spell she already knew the wand would disobey her, and not only because she had failed to disarm Bellatrix before her death but also because she had a strange feeling the wand knew she was a muggle-born.

Still, Hermione raised her wand and pointed it to the not-so-expensive looking vase she had put on the shelf before her. She widened her legs and stood straighter, rolling her shoulders. She breathed in and spoke out a spell, "Wingardium Leviosa."

The vase trembled for a moment but remained stubbornly stationary. Hermione sighed in frustration, feeling the weight of her wandlessness pressing down on her. She couldn't help but compare it to the effortless magic she had wielded with her own wand, the feeling of power and control she had experienced. With Bellatrix's wand, she felt like an imposter, an unwelcome guest in the world of magic.

Determined not to give up easily, Hermione tried again, this time putting even more intention and focus into her spellcasting. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she repeated, her voice filled with determination.