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Summary
"What in Merlin’s name is that?” Granger asked, furrowing her brow as she examined the gold dust on her hand.
But Draco knew. He’d been around magical plants his entire life. His mother adored gardening. He’d done exceptionally well in Herbology, easily earning an O. He’d assumed Granger would know, but she still looked confused—possibly in denial.
She’d touched it. It was on her hand. The cloud of glitter was still swirling around them, and Draco knew— they were fucked.