The Darkwood Wand

Alone

A gusty, disappointed sigh. "You are not what I expected this year," Tennant said. "No fun at all."

"I tried to help you with Granger, didn't I?" Malfoy's voice dripped with contempt. "All I got was the pleasure of watching the whole thing go tits up."

"Yes, I'll admit, that ambush was too direct. My next plan is more nuanced."

"Do tell," Malfoy said. "For frankly I don't think you capable of it."

"Later. I have ground to lay." Tennant rapped on the rigid bed curtains. "Hell of a warding job. Can't see them at all. You'll have to teach me that."

Tennant's shadow was outlined through the silvery cloth, he was inches away, and Hermione's heart pounded, although rationally she knew he couldn't see her or enter the bed. "I smell flowers," Tennant said. "Hmmm. Familiar."

"My mother's letter is around here somewhere," Malfoy said.

"Fetching little scent. Your mother's fit—I know Father thought so. Wasn't too happy when she turned him down. The Dark Lord had promised, after all."

The slam of Tennant's body shook the bed this time and the warded posts flickered.

"Never speak of my mother." Hermione could hardly recognize Malfoy's voice. "I will end you, I swear, and consider Azkaban more than worth it."

"T-touchy," Tennant gasped. "Fine, stand down. It's not like anything happened. Merlin."

His shadow moved away, but Hermione could see Malfoy's slender outline, wand outstretched. She heard the splash of liquid and the crack of ice, and again the creak of the sofa.

Tennant drank noisily. "You don't fool me, Drakey. You miss it, too. The power. The blood ..." His voice deepened. "The revels. Watching a Muggle slag strung up by—"

"Enough," Malfoy cut in. "The war is over. If you miss my family's hospitality so much, I'd be glad to Crucio you twice a day and find a rabid dog to chase you all over the fucking cas—"

There was a crash and a shattering of glass, and the room's light dimmed. Hermione was on her feet now, her head brushing the bed's canopy, ready to charge out.

"I rather liked that lamp," Malfoy said blandly.

A heavier crash, likely the sound of an overturned table or chair. "Watch that smart mouth of yours, Malfoy." Tennant's voice shook with rage. "You don't want to make an enemy of me."

Hermione tensed, prepared to intervene. Her wand tracked the sound of Tennant's footsteps crossing the room. She heard the wizard grumbling as he entered his bed, and the snap of curtains pulled shut.

Another door slammed, from a different direction, and Hermione remained in place until she heard lighter footsteps approach. "I'm going to bed," Malfoy announced, and she released the wards so he could enter.

Then she backed away to make room on the bed. She was glad to have him back, even though he was scowling and refused to look at her. Malfoy slid under the covers and placed his wand under a pillow.

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly.

Malfoy looked up from fussing with his coverlet, his eyes unreadable.

"Thank you for staying." She sighed. "You were right about Tennant."

An awkward silence. Not knowing what else to do, Hermione tucked her own wand into a pajama pocket and slipped under the covers. She'd feel more comfortable wrapped in her red blanket but she was trying to mend fences here. Malfoy didn't look interested in touching her anyway.

Malfoy blew out the floating candle and it was now just the two of them in the dim lamplight filtering through the curtains. Just the sound of their breathing and the faint lapping of water from the Lake outside. She had lain in the dark like this with Harry, too, the two of them alone in the tent during the war. Late at night, after a long, exhausting, dangerous day. Too tired to sleep.

Hermione looked at the canopy above, her eyes tracing the embroidered serpent's faint outline. Being here with Malfoy felt so different, though. There was something about being close to this Slytherin, something that hummed just under her skin, a tingly awareness, a coiled need between her ... Don't think of that.

"I wouldn't leave you here alone." Malfoy's voice nearly made her heart stop.

Hermione swallowed. "I know."

"I expect you to take precautions going forward."

"Yes, I will."

"I'll find out what Tennant's planning. Just don't ... provoke him."

"Like you didn't?" Hermione asked, forgetting her vow to mend fences. She sighed. "Fine, I won't speak to him."

The Slytherin scoffed. "You don't have to speak to be provoking. That means no frowning or glaring at him, either. No disapproving looks or noisy huffing when you pass him. No—"

"I get it," she snapped.

Another silence. Hermione plucked up her courage. "Malfoy?"

No answer.

"Malfoy? You said once that you knew something about Tennant. What is it?"

Malfoy groaned. "Go to sleep, Granger."

Hermione rolled over to face him, although she could only see the dark, pointed line of his profile against the curtains. "It could be important. If you know something, then you have to—"

"It's not important. Go to sleep."

"Just a hint," Hermione pleaded.

"Very well," Malfoy said, as if he were conferring a great favor. "One kiss, one hint."

"Forget it." They were not starting that up again.

Malfoy didn't answer, just waited. Hermione stared at the dark profile, considering. If this was a chance to learn something about Tennant ...

"Fine, Malfoy, tell me."

"So predictable. And here's your hint, Granger. Chicken bones."

Hermione sat up. "Chicken bones?"

"Yes." His voice was smug.

"That's no hint!"

"It's an excellent hint. Pay up."

"What does that even mean, chicken bones? How could—"

"Ah, ah," Malfoy said. "You have your hint, so I expect a kiss and a quiet night."

He sounded almost playful, and Hermione regarded his dark form in amazement. Who was this man?

"Pay up, Granger," Malfoy purred.

Hermione leaned forward, trying to follow his voice, but her lips landed on silky hair. Her second attempt brushed that sharp, stubbled jaw, but the third try found the edge of his mouth. Malfoy turned his head, his lips against hers, a brush of tongue sending shivers through her body. Hermione melted for an instant, then pulled her head back.

"Give me a better hint," she whispered.

"Give me a better kiss, then," Malfoy grumbled. "No? Well then, go to sleep and dream of chicken bones."

Hermione sniffed and rolled away again, her back to him. Merlin, even his breathing sounded smug. Hermione didn't dream of chicken bones, but she managed to develop two theories and was cooking up a third when she fell asleep.

NEXT UP: Draco is a difficult customer.