Accidental Love
Author's Notes: Not mine, no money being made, yadda yadda yadda.
This fic was written to a challenge (which is given at the end). I decided, however, that I could not use the title, as required by the challenge, that in fact the story had gone somewhere else, and rather than offering it decided to post it here.
This fic is probably going to be AU to OoP, as it was written before I read that book. If I can do so without seriously compromising my plot, I'll make the appropriate corrections.
Now, on to the fic....
Chapter 1
Something strange was happening. Draco looked at his potion, which was changing colors properly and obediently, and at Blaise Zabini, his lab partner, who was neatly chopping the coltsfoot stems for inclusion when the potion was bright green. He looked at Professor Snape, who was at that point on the other side of the room looking into Ginny Weasley's cauldron, and at Anthony Goldstein, who was looking nervously from his lab notes to his potion, as if he wasn't at all sure he was doing it right. He looked down at the potion again, and realized what the strange sensation was.
He was bored.
Not that the sensation of boredom was strange; Draco spent a lot of his life doing things that bored him. It was just very strange to have it happen in the Advanced Potions class. It was a mixed class, composed of sixth and seventh years, from all the houses, and in addition to the normal work they did with their classes, the Advanced class explored more difficult potions and, Draco understood, would stand as credit if one wanted to go on to college. He'd just taken it because he liked making potions. The fact that it looked good on his record was just a side issue. In fact, he was thinking of continuing in the field...it wouldn't be a bad skill to have.
He stirred the cauldron again, and looked over at Blaise. "Ready for them?" Blaise said, and Draco nodded. In a fine display of coordination, the chopped coltsfoot was neatly stirred in, and Blaise took over stirring while Draco ground the dried lizard heart for the next stage to a fine powder. Grinding was not a demanding task. It left Draco's mind free to wander over a topic that had been occupying him for a while....what to do when he got out of Hogwarts that summer.
Voldemort had been defeated that winter, and the wizarding world was still giddy. The shakeups resulting from it had been considerable, but much to Draco's relief his father's ability to figure out which way to jump had kept the Malfoy name and fortune intact. He wasn't stupid, of course....he knew perfectly well that his father's arm had borne the Dark Mark. He also knew that the only reason his did not was that his father had decided, only last year, that Voldemort was a sinking ship, and had distanced himself with a careful hand. Indeed, he had been one of those to betray him. However, the attention had its negative aspects. There was, as he knew quite well, a large segment of the population that thought that despite Lucius Malfoy's actions he should face more time in Azkaban, and Draco knew quite well that that prejudice extended to him. A nice quiet sojourn at one of the colleges studying potions, which he did have a knack for, would be a good thing. He'd laid this out to his father, who had agreed, and had pointed out that it wouldn't hurt for Draco to make his own money...it couldn't be touched by ministry inquiries into his father's dealings. Hence, the Advanced Potions, and college plans. He had acceptance owls from three different schools that ran wizarding programs alongside their more mundane ones, pending, of course, his completion of school. They were still discussing which one it should be. There was Speir at Cambridge, and Clitherow at Bristol, and old Fouinon at the Sorbonne had indicated his willingness to take an apprentice. He respected Snape, but preferred not to apprentice to him...after all, he'd trained him so far, it was time for another perspective. Snape had told him his instinct was correct, and Draco was looking forward to being able to discuss the finalists with him.
About this time, a chain of unrelated events began to converge; none of them so much to worry about by themselves, but, like many potions, dangerous in combination.
Professor Snape left the room, in response to a summons from Dumbledore. He knew that the Advanced students would be more worried about finishing their potions than making trouble, and after a glare that promised retribution to any who dared blink wrong in his absense, he was gone, black robes flapping in his wake.
Snape out of the way, Dean Thomas pulled an apple out of his bag, and started munching it. "What, I missed lunch!" he said at his lab partner's look, writing the notes up with his free hand. "Snape's not here, what's the problem? I promise I'll wash my hands before I handle any more ingredients, but I'm starving here. Binns wouldn't shut up for anything today."
As a companionable grouse about the History of Magic professor began, Hermione Granger went to the storeroom to get the selkie hair, which was kept in a magical field to keep it from degenerating into plain seal fur. They knew they should only get it out when they were ready to add it. Draco sighed inwardly. Granger ALWAYS had hers done first. Not surprising that she was getting the selkie hair a full three minutes before he was ready for it.
She was walking back to her table, which was behind his, when everything happened at once. John Ashby, a Slytherin who couldn't resist the opportunity, pinched Hermione's ass. She whirled around, and Thomas lost the apple out of his hand when she bumped into him. Apple and selkie hair soared high, landing with a splash in Draco's cauldron. Which at that moment had just had dried lizard heart added, and needed to simmer for three minutes, no more, no less, before the selkie hair was added, to prevent explosion.
"Oh, FUCK!" said Blaise, and dived for cover. Draco stood a fatal moment too long, watching the colors swirl and change to an alarming magenta before abruptly exploding up into his face just as Snape opened the door again.
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