The Contest
Chapter 1: The Contest
The Great Hall buzzed with an energy Hermione hadn’t felt since the Triwizard Tournament. At the long judges' table, some of the most influential minds in the wizarding world sat in watchful silence, quills poised, eyes sharp.
The Spellcraft Mastery Tournament was a rare event—an elite competition meant to test the most gifted witches and wizards in strategy, magical innovation, and raw ability. Those who won gained unmatched prestige, their names etched into history, their futures secured among the most powerful figures in wizarding society.
Hermione had not come to impress anyone.
She had come to win.
She shifted her grip on her wand, heart pounding, gaze locked onto the enchanted dueling ring at the center of the room. The final match had arrived, and she stood opposite Alexander Rosier—Pureblood. Wealthy. Arrogant. And a Malfoy family ally.
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Lucius Malfoy seated among the judges, pristine in his sharp black robes. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze was assessing. Waiting. Measuring.
As if she was a pawn on a chessboard he already believed he could control.
She lifted her chin. Not bloody likely.
The proctor raised his wand. "Begin."
Rosier struck first, flicking his wrist in a wordless hex. Hermione barely sidestepped, countering with an elegant deflection that sent the spell ricocheting into the barrier of the dueling ring.
She didn’t attack. Not yet.
Rosier smirked, circling her, clearly expecting her to move defensively.
She let him think that.
Two more spells flew at her—sharp, fast, well-cast. She dodged and twisted, feigning effort. Let him believe she was just holding her own.
Let him underestimate her.
Then she struck.
Hermione vanished.
A flicker of air where she had been standing—an advanced Disillusionment maneuver blended with a non-verbal Invisibility Charm. Rosier’s confidence faltered for a fraction of a second.
And in battle, a fraction was everything.
She reappeared behind him, wand already sweeping through the air. "Obscuro." A black blindfold materialized over his eyes.
He ripped at it—too late.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Rosier froze mid-motion, crashing to the floor.
The hall was silent for half a beat.
Then—uproar.
Hermione lowered her wand, expression calm despite the surge of adrenaline rushing through her veins.
The proctor stepped forward, waving his wand over Rosier’s rigid form. "Contestant Granger is the victor!"
A mix of cheers and muttering filled the room. Some, the fair-minded, applauded. Others, purebloods clinging to their superiority, sat in stiff disapproval.
But it was Lucius Malfoy’s reaction that caught her attention.
Unlike the others, he did not clap. He did not look displeased. He simply studied her. Calculating. Intrigued.
And in that moment, Hermione understood:
She had just become useful to him.
Malfoy Manor
The drawing room was dimly lit, golden sconces casting flickering shadows against the ornate walls. Lucius Malfoy sat in his high-backed chair, fingers steepled, eyes glinting with interest.
Across from him, Narcissa Malfoy held a delicate teacup, silent but utterly in control.
And before them sat Hermione Granger.
Uninvited. Unwilling. And yet… here.
"You must know," Lucius said smoothly, "that your talents will not go unnoticed. You will be receiving many offers after today’s performance."
Hermione lifted her chin. "If you’re here to offer me a position, save your breath. I have no interest in aligning myself with the Malfoy name."
A small, amused smile tugged at Narcissa’s lips. "Oh, my dear. This is not about a job."
Lucius leaned forward. "We are here to offer you a future. A place among the highest ranks of our world."
Hermione’s stomach coiled. She had no idea where this was going, but she already hated it. "I’m not interested in power plays, Mr. Malfoy."
Lucius’s lips barely curved. "But you are interested in security. Stability. And that is what we can provide you."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "At what cost?"
Narcissa set her teacup down with a quiet clink. "Marriage."
Silence.
A heartbeat too long.
Hermione’s breath caught.
Lucius’s gaze was unwavering. "To our son."
For the first time since stepping into the room, Hermione was completely, utterly speechless.
A sharp laugh escaped her before she could stop it. "You’re joking."
Neither of them so much as blinked.
"You can’t be serious—"
Lucius cut her off. "This is an advantageous union, Miss Granger. One that would cement your place in wizarding society. One that would protect you from political enemies. One that—"
"Would bind me to your son like some kind of pureblood prize?" Her voice was sharper now, her hands clenching into fists.
Narcissa tilted her head, watching her not with malice, but with patience. "You misunderstand, my dear. You would not be a prize. You would be an equal. The Malfoy name would grant you access to the highest echelons of wizarding society. You would wield influence."
Lucius leaned back. "It is only a matter of time before the Ministry attempts to push you out of their way. You are too powerful, too independent. You lack allies with real standing. That will make you a target." He smiled coldly. "Unless you become untouchable."
Hermione’s mind spun.
This was a power move. Not for her—but for them.
The Malfoy name had been stained by the war. Lucius was seeking a way to cleanse it. To align it with a symbol of the new world.
And who better than the brightest witch of her age?
Her pulse thundered in her ears. "And what does Draco think of this?"
Lucius’s smile widened.
"Draco does not know."
Cold spread through her veins.
"And he will not be given a choice."
End of Chapter 1
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