It was plain, without any carvings inscribed into it or ornamentation at all. Willow, with unicorn hair core, twelve inches, yielding. He turned it lengthways, around and around in his hands, staring at Hermione's bedroom door from his position on her bed; back against the wall, legs dangling over the edge. He would have gone down to his room in the cellar but he suspected Pansy would be there, and he didn't want to deal with her right now. She was too fucking draining.