Magical Accident
Hermione
Draco Malfoy stood opposite her, a wide, predatory grin stretching across his annoyingly handsome face as he settled into his dueling stance. The classroom floor was marked with two circles, one for each duelist.
"Alright," Snape drawled, his gaze lingering on Draco, "I want a clean duel. No forbidden spells, no dangerous curses. Keep it simple."
Hermione's eyes locked with Draco's.
He had been a Death Eater, a participant in the brutal war that had torn the wizarding world apart. But, The Ministry of Magic, in a controversial decision, had granted him a pardon. They argued that his actions, motivated by a desperate need to protect his family from Voldemort's wrath, were performed under duress. Draco’s mother, Narcissa, had also been cleared of all charges, her lie to Voldemort about Harry's death proving instrumental in the Dark Lord's final defeat.
Lucius Malfoy, however, was now rotting in Azkaban. The thought of him wasting away in that desolate prison brought a grim satisfaction to Hermione. She pictured him stripped of his finery, his arrogance replaced with despair as he faced the consequences of his actions.
The walls of Azkaban were said to drain the magic from those imprisoned within, leaving them hollow shells of their former selves. Hermione hoped it was true. She hoped Lucius was haunted by the faces of those he had harmed.
He was, in her mind, a far greater monster than his son. Draco, despite his flaws and past misdeeds, had shown a glimmer of redemption. He had been young, impressionable, molded by his father's toxic beliefs. Lucius, on the other hand, was a man steeped in prejudice and hatred, a man who reveled in the suffering of others. He had used his wealth and influence to further Voldemort's agenda, actively participating in the persecution of Muggle-borns and those who dared oppose the Death Eaters.
She knew Draco had trained under Bellatrix Lestrange. The mere thought of the witch sent a shiver down her spine. He'd surely participated in duels where Imperius and Cruciatus were commonplace, not the relatively harmless Expelliarmus and Stupefy that most seventeen year old witches and wizards were used to.
Yet, facing her childhood tormentor, she felt surprisingly little fear. As she studied his face, she realized how much he'd changed. His boyish features had matured into a striking handsomeness: sharp cheekbones, and startlingly bright silver eyes framed by dark lashes. She chastised herself for the fleeting distraction and tightened her grip on her wand.
They stepped forward and bowed, their eyes never leaving each other. Draco's molten gaze pierced hers. He towered over her, but she refused to cower. Returning to his circle, he smoothed his platinum blond hair back and switched his wand to his non-dominant hand - a blatant display of his confidence. She needed to win this.
"Wands at the ready," Snape drawled, his voice a monotonous drone that echoed through the dimly lit classroom. In response, they raised their wands in unison. "Begin."
Draco, his pale features contorted in a sneer, moved with a swiftness that opposed his usual languid demeanor. He flicked his wand, unleashing a bright red jet of light aimed directly at her. The spell struck her shimmering blue shield, shattering into a thousand sparks that danced through the air before one errant shard found an unintended mark, striking Luna Lovegood squarely in the shoulder.
"Ouch!" Luna yelped, her wide blue eyes blinking in surprise as she recoiled from the unexpected impact.
"Sorry, Luna!" Hermione's voice echoed across the classroom, laced with genuine concern.
"Take him out, Hermione!" Ron’s voice boomed from the sidelines, filled with encouragement and pride.
They circled each other warily, their wands held high. Hermione, her lips set in a determined line, launched a stinging hex towards him. He twisted instinctively out of the way, the spell whizzing past his ear. A smirk played on his lips, and Hermione felt a surge of frustration. She was going to wipe that smug look off his face, one way or another.
Hermione's voice echoed through the room, "Stupefy!" The spell, a streak of red light, ripped through the air. Draco reacted with lightning speed, dropping into a crouch. The spell whizzed past, the wind from it ruffling his hair. His playful smirk was gone, replaced by a cold fury. His gray eyes narrowed as he pointed his wand in her direction.
Before she could react, a jet of green light, a spell she didn't recognize, struck her. An agonizing pain tore through her spine, her fingers involuntarily releasing her wand. It clattered to the floor. She lunged for it, but he was faster. His hand closed around the polished wood. He was close now, his face inches from hers. He began to circle her, a predator toying with its prey. As he passed her ear, he whispered, “I just want you to know how much I am going to enjoy this, Mudblood .” The words pierced her heart, but she remained focused.
Desperate, she dropped to the ground, her leg lashing out in a swift arc. Her foot connected with his ankles, knocking them out from under him. He hit the floor hard with a grunt, her wand tumbling from his grasp. She snatched it back, the familiar weight a comfort in her hand. His face was contorted in anger, his eyes blazing.
His gaze flicked to Snape, a silent demand for intervention, for her to be reprimanded for her unsportsmanlike conduct. But Snape remained impassive. A triumphant smile spread across Hermione's face.
Draco surged to his feet, his wand snapping back up to level at her. For a heartbeat, they locked eyes, the air crackling with tension. The silence stretched, a taut thread about to snap.
Then, the onslaught began. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. Curses flew like fireworks, a chaotic ballet of light and color. Students in the audience ducked for cover, scrambling under desks as the spells whizzed past. Hermione and Draco danced through the chaos, weaving, dodging, conjuring shields, a whirlwind of motion in the dimly lit classroom. Neither showed any sign of slowing or tiring.
Suddenly, Hermione's aim found its mark. A curse slammed into Draco's chest, his skin instantly blooming an angry red and blistering. He let out a frustrated cry, fighting to whisper a counter curse through gritted teeth. With a burst of speed, he closed the distance, catching her off guard. He leaned in close, his voice a low hiss behind the shimmering protection of his shield.
“If you want to play dirty, let’s play.” He whispered angrily.
With a flick of his wrist, Draco curved a spell around the edge of his shield. It found its target, slamming into Hermione's leg with a sickening crack that echoed through the room. She was thrown to the ground, the impact stealing her breath. Pain lanced through her ribs, and she was sure at least one was broken. He loomed over her once more, a triumphant smirk twisting his lips.
But she wasn't finished. Even from the ground, her wand remained steady. A spell shot forth, hitting Draco square in the chest. His face drained of color, his breath hitching as his lungs constricted painfully. The tables had turned once again.
“Fuck, you little bitch! That’s an illegal curse!” Draco wheezed as the air left his lungs.
Fueled by fury, he barely managed to choke out an incantation. The spell, a streak of ominous red light, tore from his wand, missing Hermione's head by a centimeter. It slammed into the far wall, where a collection of potion vials stood. Glass shattered to the ground, sending a wave of brightly colored liquids spraying across the room. The spell ricocheted once more, slamming into an unoccupied desk. Wood splintered and smoke curled upwards, leaving a blackened scar on the once pristine surface.
Hermione's voice, raw with terror and outrage, pierced the settling dust. "That could have killed me, you psychopath!" Her eyes, wide and filled with a mix of shock and disbelief, locked onto Draco's. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths.
A cruel glint shone in Draco's eyes as he watched her, seemingly savoring her fear for a moment. Then, with a triumphant roar, he bellowed, "Expeliarmus!"
Her wand was ripped from her grasp again, clattering across the floor. But a smirk played on her lips. She didn't need it.
Meeting his gaze, she focused her intent, channeling her magic without the aid of her wand. A silent, invisible force surged from her, catching Draco completely off guard. His eyes widened in shock just as the spell hit him full force. He crumpled, a strangled cry escaping his lips as he hit the floor. The look in his eyes told her everything – he'd underestimated her, just like everyone else always did.
With a flick of her wrist, she beckoned him closer. His body, resisting the pull, was dragged across the floor by her magic until he lay at her feet. She calmly retrieved her wand from his limp hand.
Raising it, she uttered a final incantation. His body stiffened, then was flung backward, sailing over a desk and out of bounds. He hit the floor with a bone jarring thud.
"I win," Hermione whispered, the words barely audible above the ringing in her ears.
As the adrenaline faded and the smoke cleared, she surveyed the scene. The classroom was a disaster. Desks were overturned, potions painted the floor in vibrant hues, and students remained huddled under their desks, peeking out cautiously. Harry and Ron were on their feet, cheering wildly, while Theo, Blaise, and Pansy glared at her with undisguised loathing.
Snape rose, his face a mask of displeasure. "Both of you, come with me, now." he barked, ushering them out of the classroom and towards the Headmaster's office.
*****
Draco and Hermione sat silently, slumped in chairs, in Headmaster McGonagall's office. Their bodies ached, their skin marred with bruises, cuts, and gashes. They avoided each other's gaze, but Hermione could sense Draco's simmering anger like a barely contained fire.
"Miss Granger," McGonagall's voice was laced with disappointment, "I expected better from you. Our Head Girl, resorting to semi-illegal curses... What kind of example does that set for the other students?"
Hermione shrank under the weight of the Headmaster's disapproval, her throat constricting, unable to form a response. The sting of McGonagall's words was sharper than any physical wounds she'd sustained during the duel.
"And Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall's voice hardened, "I believe this sort of behavior is in direct violation of your probation." Draco's eyes remained glazed over, his posture radiating indifference.
A tense silence fell over the room as McGonagall paused, her gaze sweeping over them. "The damage inflicted upon the classroom is considerable," she continued, her tone grave. "Numerous potions, some requiring extensive brewing time, were destroyed. As such, you will both be assigned detention, together. You will meet every afternoon after classes, until each and every potion is replaced.
Hermione's eyes widened in alarm. "Headmaster, please," she pleaded, "I would be more than willing to do the work alone. I don't believe it's wise for Malfoy and I to undertake this assignment together."
Draco remained silent, his expression unreadable.
McGonagall's voice left no room for argument. "You will brew the potions together. There will be no further discussion on the matter. Consider yourselves fortunate that the punishment is not more severe. You are both dismissed."
Hermione's heart sank. This could take months. She would be forced to spend countless hours in Draco's company, brewing potions. Her hand instinctively reached for the scar on her forearm, her fingers tracing its familiar outline. She noticed Draco's gaze flicker towards her movement, and she quickly withdrew her hand, placing it back in her lap.
Without a word, Draco rose and strode out of the office. Hermione offered a final apology to the Headmaster before following him, her mind reeling with dread and uncertainty about the weeks to come.
The hall was eerily silent as she stepped out of the office. Draco was nowhere to be found, and a shiver snaked down her spine. One moment he was there, the next he was gone, vanished like a ghost. Her fingers instinctively tightened around her wand. Each creak and groan of the floor seemed to amplify her apprehension as she cautiously made her way down the shadowy corridor.
She rounded the corner. Suddenly, strong arms seized her, pinning her against the cold stone wall with a force that knocked the wind out of her. Draco's face loomed inches from hers, his silver eyes blazing. One arm was braced against the wall, effectively caging her, while the other was pressed against her chest, a barrier preventing any escape. She struggled against his iron grip, but he was immovable, his strength surprising.
With a swift motion, he snatched her wand from her grasp, holding it alongside his own in a display of dominance. He captured both her hands in his free hand, his grip unyielding, ensuring she couldn't resort to wandless magic. His silence was more menacing than any words could have been. The air crackled, the temperature plummeting as his anger radiated through her. He towered over her, his physique transformed over the past year, so different to the thin, lanky, boy she had known before.
She met his gaze defiantly, refusing to cower. She now knew she could best him in a duel, but his sheer physicality was intimidating. Was this his way of asserting control after the public humiliation he had suffered? A wave of anger washed over her. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her plead or whimper. He had never laid a hand on her before, but the barely controlled fury in his eyes hinted that he wanted to now. His hand, the one imprisoning hers, trembled with suppressed rage.
She twisted her hands in an attempt to break free, and he reacted instantly. With a rough spin, he pressed her against the wall, her chest flush against the cold stone. His breath grazed her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
"You're lucky I'm in a forgiving mood, Mudblood," he hissed, his voice a low growl that vibrated through her. Though he wasn't touching her, she could feel the heat emanating from his body.
Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he released her. He turned on his heel and disappeared back into the shadows, leaving her breathless and disoriented. She leaned against the wall, her heart pounding. Fear wasn't what she felt; it was an unsettling mix of curiosity and anticipation.
A blush crept up her neck as she realized the truth. She was excited, intrigued. She covered her face with her hands, mortified by her own reaction.
****
“That was bloody brilliant, ‘Mione!” Ron’s booming voice echoed through the Gryffindor common room as Hermione stepped through the portrait hole. He swept her up in a bear hug, the force of it nearly knocking the wind out of her. She clung to him for a moment, relief washing over her. Their breakup had been rough, Ron’s initial anger a bitter pill to swallow, and the awkward aftermath a minefield to navigate. But now, his genuine excitement and the easy camaraderie in his eyes told her their friendship was truly on the mend.
Around the room, heads nodded and murmurs of agreement filled the air. "Amazing!", "Wicked!", "You showed him!". She managed a weary smile, but the weight of the day pressed down on her, leaving little room for basking in the glory.
Neville Longbottom, his face beaming, approached her with a shy grin. "Bloody good show, Hermione!" he exclaimed, giving her a hearty pat on the back that almost sent her stumbling.
Just then, Parvati Patil entered the common room, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What happened?" she asked, her gaze flitting from face to face.
"Hermione clobbered Malfoy in a duel," Lavender Brown piped up, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Parvati's eyes widened. She exchanged a quick glance with Lavender before turning back to Hermione, a playful pout on her lips. "You didn't damage that beautiful face of his, did you?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock concern. A chorus of giggles erupted from the girls clustered around the fire. "Would be such a shame!" Parvati added with a dramatic sigh.
"Last I saw, his face was in order," Hermione replied curtly, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes.
A wave of irritation washed over her. It was infuriating how quickly everyone seemed to have forgotten Draco’s past transgressions, especially the young witches. Many of them had returned to Hogwarts for their eighth year, to make up for time lost during the previous year. As soon as they'd returned, it was like a collective amnesia had swept over the student body. Girls were practically throwing themselves at his feet, their earlier disdain replaced with breathless admiration.
Hermione knew, however, that things weren't as rosy for Malfoy as they appeared. She'd seen the way the professors looked at him, a mixture of suspicion and wariness in their eyes. She was sure many students were still scared of him, whispers of his Death Eater past clinging to him like a shadow. How would he ever secure a decent job after this year, with the Dark Mark forever branded on his arm? The Malfoy name, once synonymous with power and prestige, was now tarnished, irrevocably linked to Voldemort and his reign of terror.
She knew Narcissa Malfoy was desperately trying to rebuild their reputation, orchestrating a whirlwind of fundraisers, charity donations, and lavish parties. But Hermione suspected it would take more than extravagant displays of wealth to erase the stain of their past. Luckily for them, the Malfoys possessed an obscene amount of money, the kind of fortune that seemed to replenish itself no matter how frivolously they spent. They owned opulent homes across the globe – sprawling manors, elegant chateaus, and imposing mansions.
"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked, her eyes scanning the common room, finally registering the absence of her friend.
"With Ginny somewhere," Ron replied, his gaze fixed on the crackling flames in the fireplace, a faint blush creeping up his neck.
A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She longed to escape the noise and chatter, to find a quiet corner where she could simply breathe. This feeling had become a frequent companion this year, a persistent need to retreat from the world and its relentless demands.
"I'm going to go for a walk," she announced to Ron, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ron turned to her, his brow furrowed with concern. "Want me to come?"
"No, thank you," she replied with a small, tired smile. "I just want some time to myself."
Ron nodded in understanding, and she slipped out of the common room, the portrait hole swinging shut behind her. She descended the grand staircase, her footsteps echoing in the deserted corridors, and emerged onto the grounds. The cool evening air offered a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the castle.
She made her way down to the lake. The familiar path, winding through the whispering trees, offered a sense of comfort. She walked for what felt like hours, her thoughts swirling like the leaves scattered by the gentle breeze.
Her schoolwork, a relentless tide of essays and assignments, weighed heavily on her mind. Then there were her parents, living their altered lives in Australia, a constant source of worry and longing. And of course, the duel with Draco, the memory of their wands clashing, his cold gray eyes filled with a mixture of anger and something else she couldn't quite decipher, replayed in her mind.
As dusk deepened into night, a shiver ran down her spine, a prickle of unease settling over her. She had the distinct feeling of being watched, of unseen eyes following her every move. A sudden wave of panic surged through her. She quickened her pace, her heart pounding in her chest, and didn't dare look back as she fled towards the safety of the castle.
****
The following afternoon, Hermione waited in the Potions classroom for Draco to arrive. The minutes ticked by, each one amplifying her anxiety. Finally, fifteen minutes late, he sauntered in, his presence immediately filling the room with a cold, prickly energy. He didn't even glance her way, his face a mask of icy indifference as he made his way towards the table where she was already stationed. A potions book lay open before her, meticulously listing the ingredients required for the first potion they were tasked with replacing.
Without a word he rolled up his sleeves, exposing his faded dark mark, and snatched the book, his eyes scanning the page with practiced ease. "This one should be simple enough," he drawled, his voice laced with a thinly veiled sneer, "especially for a swot extraordinaire like yourself."
Hermione's grip tightened on her stirring rod. She hated him. She hated him so much.
"It calls for Fluxweed," she replied, keeping her eyes fixed on the cauldron, "which is missing from the supply closet. However, I believe we can substitute Daisy roots."
"Fine," Draco's voice dripped with disdain, "let's get on with it."
The next three hours were excruciating. Hermione, focused on the task at hand, accidentally brushed against Draco's hand a couple of times. Each time, he recoiled as if her touch was scalding, his face contorted in disgust. She tried to maintain her composure, but the raw sting of his revulsion burrowed deep, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable.
Finally, the potion was complete. Beads of sweat trickled down their foreheads after hours spent hunched over the steaming cauldron. The classroom was bathed in the dim light of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the worn wood floorboards. Hermione, her body still aching from the previous day's duel, felt an overwhelming wave of exhaustion wash over her.
She reached behind Draco to retrieve her bag, her chest inadvertently brushing against his back. He flinched violently, once again repulsed by her. The gesture, small but loaded with meaning, was the final straw.
"Do you really think you're so much better than me?" she exploded, her voice echoing through the empty classroom. "Look at you, you're an absolute coward!"
Draco's face twisted in anger, but he didn’t respond.
She refused to back down. She stepped closer, her eyes blazing into his. His gaze darted between hers, his pupils narrowed in a mixture of fury and something else she couldn't quite decipher. She leaned in even further, the space between them shrinking to mere centimeters.
An unspoken challenge hung in the air as their gazes locked. She wasn't sure what he saw in her eyes - defiance, perhaps, or a vulnerability he hadn't expected. Whatever it was, a subtle shift rippled through his features. The anger simmering beneath the surface seemed to cool.
He held her gaze, the air between them crackling with a silent, electrifying energy. Time seemed to stretch, every second a lifetime as they remained frozen. His eyes, usually so cold and guarded, now held a depth that sent shivers down her spine. His mouth parted slightly.
The tension in the room intensified further, no longer fueled by animosity, but by something entirely different. Desire. A raw, primal hunger emanated from him, a silent plea that echoed in the stillness of the classroom. It left her breathless.
Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned forward. His lips brushed against hers, a fleeting touch, feather light and surprisingly tender.
The unexpected kiss sent a shockwave through Hermione, her entire body jolting in surprise. Her heart hammered in her chest like a frantic drum, her mind struggling to process the sudden, inexplicable shift in their dynamic. She stumbled backward, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and disgust.
Her retreat was abruptly halted as she collided with the edge of the table. The impact sent the cauldron teetering precariously, its contents sloshing dangerously close to the rim. They both watched, frozen in a shared moment of wide eyed panic, as the cauldron tipped back and forth, threatening to spill its contents.
Then, with a sickening lurch, the cauldron toppled. A wave of steaming purple liquid cascaded towards them, drenching them both in its sticky, pungent embrace.
Suddenly, the very fabric of the classroom seemed to warp and twist, flinging them both into a dizzying vortex. The world spun around them, a flash of colors and disjointed images, before they were unceremoniously dumped onto solid cold ground.
They landed with a jarring thud, their breaths knocked from their lungs. As they slowly regained their senses, they took in their surroundings, a wave of bewilderment washing over them. Before them, a vast expanse of cracked wooden terrain extended for miles. Immense canyons, each a mile wide, ripped through the ground in every direction, forming a treacherous network of chasms that stretched as far as the eye could see. Overhead, colossal structures of wood and steel intertwined, casting eerie shadows across the unfamiliar landscape. Wide rivers of bubbling purple liquid snaked their way through the unfamiliar terrain.
They lay sprawled on their backs, propped up on their elbows, gasping for air as they attempted to regain their composure. A wave of nausea swept over Hermione, a sickening lurch in her stomach as the gravity of their situation sunk in. The blood drained from her face, leaving her pale and wide-eyed with a dawning sense of horror as recognition finally dawned on her. She knew where they were. Draco seemed to figure it out at the same time as she did.
"Mudblood," Draco spat, "we've bloody shrunk ourselves."