novelraw Chapter 13: The Out-of-Control Broomstick
Chapter 13: The Out-of-Control Broomstick
Chapter Thirteen: The Out-of-Control Broomstick
Draco hadn't planned to attend the Quidditch match.
Since his rebirth, he'd gradually realized that no amount of noise or celebration could move his withered heart. Such occasions only brought endless desolation.
The excitement and laughter offered no joy—they merely reminded him of the cruelty and horror of the Battle of Hogwarts.
Sometimes he would look at students with their bright smiles, and something lifeless would settle in his eyes.
Their smiles were everywhere—at the dining tables, in the corridors, in the classrooms.
Occasionally, he encountered people whose happiness was almost blinding.
You wouldn't be naive enough to think Draco Malfoy could be infected by those smiles and gain genuine joy, would you?
No.
All he could picture was those same faces lying in ruins, blank-eyed and lifeless.
He thought only of how easily death came, the fragility of life, the unpredictability of the world.
He feared even images of decay—falling oak leaves, withering poppies, drying bushes.
He was afraid of extinguished candles, mournful wind, the darkness of night.
He feared the smiles of the innocent most of all.
When he knew certain people were destined to die, he found it difficult to treat them normally, difficult to want contact with them. Their ignorant smiles seemed shocking in their naivety.
Draco Malfoy was powerless to change it.
He was cowardly. Timid. Selfish.
He could barely save himself—how could he save others? He couldn't take responsibility for anyone. He was afraid he'd fail them.
He feared even more the harm and pain the deceased would inflict on the living after their passing, so he chose distance.
Perhaps that way, when those people withered from the world, he could maintain inner calm and indifference. He could suffer less torment.
For some, he was the harm itself.
Maintaining a safe distance might be the best way to protect her, Draco thought wearily.
But he came anyway, standing reluctantly in the Quidditch stands. He already knew how the match would end—Slytherin would lose spectacularly. What was there to see?
There was no way to change Slytherin's crushing defeat. The only sensible option was to ignore it and avoid the trouble.
But he had to go. This was a golden opportunity to prove to Potter's group that Quirrell was the problem.
Ever since they'd discussed Quirrell's strange behavior in the library, a seed of suspicion had been planted in Hermione's mind. But it was only speculation—without concrete evidence, she remained skeptical.
Draco needed to fan the flames until she believed completely.
Hermione Granger had always been difficult to persuade. But once convinced, she became the most tireless person in the world, doing everything in her power to convince those two reckless idiots, Potter and Weasley.
In his past life, she'd been exactly like this—using her encyclopedic knowledge and awe-inspiring idealism to guide the lucky Potter step by step out of danger and onto the right path.
As the brains of the trio, she excelled at thinking. An excellent puzzle solver.
As for Potter and Weasley... they habitually overlooked her intelligence, took her wisdom for granted.
Draco shook his head slightly, lamenting the waste of her talent.
Her brilliance should have been recognized by more people, but everyone assumed those adventurous achievements were entirely Potter's doing.
Most would feel jealous and resentful. But she claimed not to care.
How could someone like her exist? Even in his past life, he'd doubted it was possible.
The one and only Hermione Granger cared more about her friends' safety than her own glory—specifically, Potter's safety.
Just like in his previous life, about five minutes into the match, Potter's broom went out of control.
From the moment Potter's broom began trembling abnormally, Draco rose as if alone in the crowd, strolled leisurely away, and headed straight to where Quirrell and Professor Snape stood at the back of the stands.
There, he raised the Omnioculars hanging around his neck to observe Potter in the sky, while quietly waiting for the petite girl wearing a Gryffindor scarf.
She would come.
In his past life, he'd witnessed what she'd done—running behind Professor Snape and setting his robes on fire—and strangely, he hadn't reported her. Instead, he'd thought her incredibly bold.
Not everyone dared provoke the Slytherin Snake King. Ignorant or fearless, he couldn't decide which.
Afterward, she'd sneaked away along that row of seats like a chipmunk that had stolen fruit.
He'd burst out laughing. When Crabbe and Goyle asked if he was laughing at Potter teetering in the sky, his gaze had followed the girl with the scarlet and gold scarf. "Yeah," he'd said lazily. "Isn't it funny? He can't even hold his broom steady."
She'll definitely come when Potter's in danger, Draco thought with certainty.
Sure enough, Hermione rushed over in a panic moments later—this little Gryffindor lion cub who wanted to be fierce but hadn't grown claws yet—and nearly fell headfirst into his arms before he caught her by the arm.
Hermione was utterly shaken. Shattered by this cruel reality—she simply couldn't believe a professor would attack an innocent student!
But it was happening. There was evidence. Irrefutable.
"Draco, I just saw through my Omnioculars! Quirrell and Professor Snape... they're both muttering and staring at Harry... but I don't know who... who should I stop..." she said breathlessly.
Her brown eyes blazed with fury. Her hands trembled as she gripped her vine wood wand tightly, seemingly ready to unleash an inaccurate curse at the professors—or perhaps just hexes for an indiscriminate attack.
She was on the verge of tears, Draco thought. Her disoriented state was only making things worse.
"Hermione Granger, where is your sense? Calm down!" He placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her firmly to prevent anything impulsive.
Hermione knew she was in terrible shape. Her wand hand was shaking.
But he steadied her, and there seemed to be some calming power in his gentle grey eyes that gradually pulled her from intense anger back to rationality.
The area bustled with noise, but Draco dared not speak too loudly lest those around overhear. So he leaned as close to Hermione's face as possible—close enough to see her thick eyelashes trembling with confusion.
"Listen. The curse stops when eye contact breaks. Hermione, snap out of it!" He frowned, quickly explaining his plan. "We need to split up. One of us deals with Quirrell first; if that doesn't work, we'll try Professor Snape. This is our only chance to distinguish the guilty party. Please trust me."
The faint, refreshing scent approached Hermione, making her mind both muddled and clear.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. The boy's hands on her shoulders acted as stabilizers, reminding her she wasn't alone.
He was here. He'd help her.
He gripped her shoulders, utterly calm, hammering the plan into her ears word by word with crystal clarity.
His approach was methodical and systematic. She understood.
Their goals aligned.
He wanted to use simple timing to find the culprit—a direct, efficient method. Which coincidentally matched what she wanted. It required cooperation.
"You'd actually go after Professor Snape?" she asked, eyes wide with surprise at his impartial accusation.
That was the Snake King whom no one dared provoke, the imposing Head of Slytherin House, the last person any Hogwarts student wanted to cross.
No Slytherin would antagonize Professor Snape, just as no Gryffindor would dare challenge Professor McGonagall.
"Are you really willing to go after Professor Snape?" she pressed, needing confirmation he wasn't joking.
"If necessary, yes," he said emotionlessly, lips pressed into a resolute line.
This reassured Hermione somewhat.
They had to act quickly. She glanced up anxiously at Harry in the air. He seemed to be hanging precariously, clinging to the wildly vibrating broom with only one hand.
Nearly every student in the stands had stood, watching the chaos with horror. The Weasley twins flew up, trying to pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but every time they approached, the broom shot higher.
The twins fell back and circled below Harry, clearly trying to catch him if he fell.
We must act now! Hermione thought urgently.
"I'll go first—I'll deal with Quirrell!" she whispered in his ear.
Without hesitation, she rushed toward the aisle behind Quirrell, pretending to squeeze through but actually kicking him hard in the back, sending him headfirst into the front row.
Simultaneously, a suspicious cluster of blue flames sprang silently from her wand, igniting the hem of Quirrell's turban.
Ten seconds later, Quirrell—wearing the flaming turban—dashed from the stands and fled below.
On the other side, Professor Snape stared intently at Harry, muttering under his breath. Hermione ran to Draco's side, clutching his robes with one hand, still nervous about having just attacked a professor.
"How is it? Did it work?" Hermione asked anxiously while the composed boy held up his Omnioculars to search the sky.
She hadn't brought hers. In her haste, she'd left them in the Gryffindor stands for Ron and the others. Meanwhile, Harry's broom had flown far enough that she could only make out blurry figures with her naked eye.
"He's already climbed back on. Want to see?" Draco asked casually, his face showing an "I knew it" expression.
"Yes!" she said eagerly.
He really went to great lengths for his friends. He pursed his lips, preparing to remove the Omnioculars and hand them to her, but she was in a hurry and—whoosh—slipped between his arms, looking through the Omnioculars using his raised hands.
"Thank you!" she said impatiently, completely disregarding Draco's feelings as he held them for her and practically surrounded her.
It was a novel sensation. Hermione Granger had actually nestled into his arms to look through his Omnioculars! Draco thought with utter astonishment.
Absolutely unimaginable in his previous life.
However... in this life, she always seemed to challenge his expectations with her actions.
She became increasingly bold and reckless, yet remained naive and willful.
Completely unsuspecting of him, she simply blocked his view with her small head covered in thick brown hair. Her hair was warm, and a few strands seemed to be rebelling, tickling his cheek.
She even... took it for granted that he'd hold the Omnioculars for her!
Merlin's beard, he was the young master of the Malfoy family. Who would dare trouble his noble hands?
Did she realize?
And last time, in the forbidden corridor on the third floor, she'd casually rested her head on his shoulder!
Did she ever consider whether what she was doing was appropriate?
Clearly, Hermione was oblivious to the turmoil in the boy behind her. Her entire focus remained on Harry. When she finally saw through the Omnioculars that Harry was safely on his broom, genuine relief spread across her worried face.
Now she could relax.
Immediately followed by a surge of anger.
Draco was right—Professor Snape was helping Harry, not cursing him.
The real villain was Quirrell, that stuttering, seemingly honest fraud! He didn't deserve to be called a professor! Hermione thought indignantly as she casually held Draco's hand, adjusting the Omnioculars' angle to follow Harry's movements.
She was still worried about Harry, eyes glued to the small figure in the lenses, fearing something else might happen.
She completely ignored the boy's silence and stiffness behind her.
Suddenly, people saw Gryffindor's young Seeker dart rapidly toward the ground, then cover his mouth as if about to be sick.
Something golden fell from Harry's mouth into his hand. He'd caught the Snitch.
"That's wonderful!" Hermione said, eyes brimming with tears.
She turned and happily, tightly hugged the silent boy behind her.
Draco's pupils dilated slightly, revealing unexpected emotion.
Amid cheers from near and far, she was embracing him.
It seemed her vibrant, unrestrained warmth had seeped into his stiff, cold body.
She was... testing his limits... Her sudden hug left him bewildered... She seemed to genuinely enjoy being close to him... She didn't dislike him at all... wasn't afraid of his cold, aloof demeanor.
How could she hug him like that? How? His insides seemed to twist in knots, or perhaps scream wildly.
Suddenly, his long-dormant heart seemed to beat again.
It was very light. Shallow.
Perhaps not a heartbeat at all, but rather a bird that had flown past and left a delicate feather there.
Light feathers, so light they seemed illusory.
"Thank you, Draco! We won!" She quickly released him and smiled with pure joy.
He remained silent, grey eyes staring blankly at her.
What could he say? His mind was in turmoil.
His frozen heart shouldn't be beating.
Things were getting out of control.
Hermione found his stiff expression odd. Harry was safe and had caught the Snitch—why wasn't he smiling?
She looked around and suddenly realized she was very close to the Slytherin section. Her scarlet and gold scarf stood out conspicuously against the silver and green crowd.
He must be disappointed because Slytherin lost, she thought anxiously.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I have to go now!" Hermione said.
Before his cold lips could utter any sarcastic words, she glanced at his unfamiliar, questioning grey eyes and hurried away.
So she didn't see his eyes suddenly soften, nor the glimmer of light that appeared in them.
"Congratulations..." Draco said softly to the increasingly distant, lively figure, heart filled with conflicting emotions.
Don't think about it. She's already gone.
Think of something else, Draco told himself, gazing at the bright brown hair.
Think of Potter's safety. Snape's name being cleared. Slytherin's Quidditch loss.
Slytherin's House Cup chances were in serious trouble this year...
Potter got lucky! Swallowing the Snitch—what kind of catch was that? He thought indignantly.
Draco had always loved Quidditch. Loved the feeling of soaring freely through the sky.
He'd once given up several matches to complete the Dark Lord's daunting task, a decision he'd always regretted. Personal hobbies paled beside matters of life and death.
Whether in his past life or this one, he'd always envied Potter's seemingly effortless success.
What an honor it would be to represent his House! Draco couldn't help thinking.
Why couldn't he stop dwelling on this?
He'd once thought he'd never be moved again.
He'd once thought he could treat everything with indifference.
However—
Draco's indifferent grey eyes turned back to the jubilant crowd, and he suddenly realized the cheers no longer made him feel only loneliness.
For some reason, his long-dormant heart stirred anew on this Quidditch pitch.
It trembled slightly. Felt a faint itch. Could it be because some unseen feather had touched or stirred it?
In a fleeting moment, he suddenly desired to represent Slytherin and have a fair match against Potter again.
If he won, would people cheer, jump for joy, be happy for him?
Just like Hermione was happy for Harry's victory today? He kept a straight face but couldn't help thinking.
After the Quidditch match, Potter's group finally realized they'd completely misjudged due to their own prejudice.
"Who would doubt Professor Quirrell with that stutter? He seems so kind and approachable," Potter told him.
In the empty stands, Potter and Weasley came specifically to apologize to Draco, who stood near the pitch.
"It's not our fault. Who told Professor Snape to fly around like a giant bat, attacking all non-Slytherin students with harsh words?" Weasley said rather rudely.
"If you used your brains instead of your mouths during Potions, Professor Snape might not have reason to speak harshly to you." Draco finally stopped being dazed, stopped thinking about other things, and faced the two boys who'd come to "provoke" him with a sharp retort.
Weasley was furious but couldn't utter a word in rebuttal.
"Fine, I've already won—I won't bother arguing with you." After holding back, Weasley said out of nowhere.
That stung. Weasley really knew how to wound. Draco gave them a cold look and walked away haughtily.
That red-haired brat! A brain was a good thing—pity he only had a mouth.
Rolling his eyes, Draco headed toward the castle in a foul mood. He was quite certain he still didn't have a favorable impression of the Weasley boy.
Side Story Two: The Awkward Slytherin (Harry's Perspective)
Harry had always owed Draco a Chocolate Frog.
When he'd first met Draco, he'd used Hagrid's wisdom: never judge by appearances.
What had he done? Because of Professor Snape's sharp tongue and meanness, he'd pinned all the bad things on him. Harry was extremely ashamed.
According to Hermione, when Professor Quirrell was cursing him, it was probably Professor Snape's counter-curse that saved him from falling off that wildly bucking broom.
Thanks to Draco's warning, they hadn't wrongly accused an innocent person.
Speaking of Draco—although he often had an arrogant, mysterious, aloof demeanor, he always lent a helping hand when it mattered.
He was always too embarrassed to admit he'd done good deeds, keeping them secret. Harry just didn't understand it.
Slytherins were all so awkward.
Professor Snape might just be Draco grown up. The thought sent a chill down Harry's spine.
Oh Merlin, I hope Draco doesn't turn into that greasy, unwashed git.
However, even if Professor Snape continued mocking him in the next Potions class, he wouldn't be too angry about it.
Not that he felt much agreement with Professor Snape—he still couldn't stand the blatant favoritism toward Slytherin students.
But this biased professor had tried to save him, hadn't he?
This harsh professor still had a bit of kindness in him, didn't he?