"We need to think about this, Snargaluff stumps are haemophiliac's aren’t they? If we cut them, they’ll bleed to death." Draco looked down at Granger whose eyes were shut, her body limp at the lack of oxygen. He noticed one of her arms was still reaching out blindly, her wand was just out of reach on the workbench above her. He thrust it into her hand - in case her magic tried to save her. His own wand was gripped tight in his hand, he used it to delicately slice down each vine that had made its way tightly around her neck. He gestured for Potter to do the same to the vines around her wrists and ankles, not trusting the chosen one to not cut right through the vine and into her delicate skin too. No, Draco would have to do the throat vines himself.