Call Me Psyche - Dramione

13

"This miserable wand," Ron grumbled, flicking it over the fire. "Look at it. Crooked as anything."

"Scabbers's old wand?" Bill said.

Ron cringed. "Yeah, you could say that. Wish you wouldn't say it, but you could. With mine stolen, it's all I've got to work with now."

Bill clucked his tongue. "Bloody war. Making a mess of everything."

"It's worse than just me losing it," Ron went on. "Old daddy Malfoy didn't have a wand of his own, so he's probably using my wand as his now. Sickening to think – " Ron couldn't go on, standing back from the stove, swearing as a plume of smoke rose from the pan.

Bill stepped forward, quelling the smoke. "Easy, Ronnie. Might not be all in the wand," he said. "Cooking is harder than Mum makes it look."

At this, Ron groaned. "Why didn't Mum let us know how hard it was, and how much work really went into all those massive meals she made? Why didn't she tell us that what we saw her doing in the kitchen wasn't the half of it? If I'd known, I never would have complained to Hermione about our meals, and maybe – "

Bill had nudged Ron hard with his elbow, cutting off his repentance. Luna and Malfoy had just entered the kitchen.

She pulled out a chair for Draco to sit in, and he stood staring at it until Harry heaved a tremendous sigh.

"Have a seat, Malfoy," he began. "We need to sort out this mess of wands."

"What's there for me to sort?" Draco said, still not taking a seat, his old habit of defensiveness springing to life.

His tone was too much for Ron to bear. He was snarling a retort. "What's there to sort? How about whether or not you get what you came here for, eh Malfoy? Do you get to leave here with what you really wanted when you followed us?"

Draco scoffed. "What? You think I came here looking for Potter so I could try to get my wand back?"

"Well didn't you?" Ron said, the sentence rising into a shout, his feet managing to lunge toward Draco before Bill caught his arm.

"Of course I cannot have my wand back," Draco said, speaking loudly and slowly, as if to a very naughty child. "I'm not an idiot. If I return home with the same wand everyone saw Potter take from me in our drawing room, they'd know I've found the lot of you. They'd torture me until I lead them to you. My parents wouldn't be able to stop them, and they'd make me give you all up, including her." He waved his arm toward the upper floor. "And she is what I came for. Not the wand. Not any of you. Just her."

At the sound of raised voices, Hermione and Fleur had rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen. Ron watched Hermione's face as she stood behind Draco, listening. She had an expression Ron recognized, one he had glimpsed only a few times when she looked at him that way. Now that it was too late, he knew exactly what the look meant.

She was in love, but now it was with Draco Malfoy.

All the fight drained out of Ron, fading with his complexion as it changed from angry red to a pale shade like he was about to faint. He didn't. But he did set Pettigrew's wand on the table with the other ones Harry had already laid there, and left through the backdoor into the garden.

Hermione moved to follow him, but Fleur held her arm. "It's no good," Fleur said. "Someone else go after him."

"I'll do it," Luna sang, hopping to her feet. "Harry said the rest of you need to sort out the wands. And it's still true even if Ron is sulking. Mr. Ollivander promised to craft me a new wand if I can wait until he's feeling better. So don't worry about me. I'm off."