The time before bed always felt too short. Just as Qin Yu finished answering Hermione's fifth question about Herbology, the final call for bedtime sounded throughout the castle.
Hermione could only tuck away her remaining questions for tomorrow.
"Good night, Qin." The little witch gathered up her books and gave him a cheerful wave.
"Good night, Hermione." Qin Yu smiled, reaching out to gently smooth a few stray strands of hair from her face.
Hermione shrugged, her lips pursing in a tiny pout as she let out a long sigh through her nose.
Time, she thought, slipped by so quickly. It felt like they'd barely spent any time together at all. And yet, the night ahead seemed endless—she'd have to wait ages before she could see Qin again.
Qin had once told her, "If a friendship is meant to last, it doesn't matter if you're together every moment of every day." He'd said it was a line from an ancient Eastern poem, even teaching her the original pronunciation. But she could never get it quite right, and Qin would always tease her about her "thick tongue."
How was that her fault? Eastern languages were impossibly hard—so different from English. The tones were the worst part. How could the same syllable have so many complicated intonations?
Qin, chin, ching, king… weren't they all the same?
Still, Hermione was determined. With enough time, she'd master this language—so long as her "teacher" Qin was patient with her. Really, the responsibility was his!
"Liang qin ruo shi chang jiu…" She silently mouthed the tricky phrase, feeling the beauty and wisdom in those ancient words.
Even so, she couldn't help but wish they could be together every moment.
But Hogwarts had its rules—boys and girls in separate dormitories. She couldn't sneak into Qin's room at night like she did back home, chatting away on his bed until she eventually drifted off to sleep.
The look in her eyes was so open, so pure, that Qin Yu instantly understood what she was thinking.
"Go on, then. Early to bed, early to rise—that's how you grow tall," he said, ruffling her hair.
There it was again—growing tall.
Hermione supposed she really did want to grow up quickly. Once she was older, she could do whatever she wanted.
"Good night, then, Qin." She repeated her farewell, lingering just a bit longer.
"Good night, my dear princess." Qin Yu replied with a gentle smile.
The nickname made her lips curl up in a smile of her own, her mood instantly brightened.
So, after exchanging goodnights twice—and dawdling for just a little while longer—they finally parted ways, each slipping off to their own dormitory at the very last minute.
…
…
Not long after Qin Yu and Hermione said their goodnights and went their separate ways, all of Hogwarts seemed to drift into slumber, the castle settling into a deep, enchanted quiet.
Two or three quarters of an hour later, a slender figure slipped out of the Slytherin common room.
Readers will surely recognize him at once—our old acquaintance, the young master of the Malfoy family, Draco Malfoy.
He was different from his first nighttime adventure—no longer so anxious or furtive. His steps were more assured, his movements practiced.
He moved through the corridors with ease, dodging obstacles, avoiding the watchful eyes of the castle's night warden, Argus Filch, and making his way swiftly toward the castle grounds.
But even with his newfound confidence, a certain restlessness clung to him. Every so often, he stopped and glanced around, as if searching for something—or someone—that never appeared.
His thoughts were as tangled as his path.
It had been days since he'd stumbled upon that pile of mysterious leaves in the deserted corridor. Every night since, Malfoy had followed the "leaf message," making his way to the oak tree between the greenhouse and the vegetable patch at midnight, hoping for a magical encounter of his own.
But nothing had happened. No one ever came.
Well, except for a squirrel, who had grown bold enough to snatch acorns right in front of him—though it still seemed a bit nervous about it.
Crouched in the shadows, waiting for Filch's lantern to fade, Malfoy found himself staring at the ancient stone walls of the castle, lost in thought.
"What am I even doing out here at this hour?"
A strange sense of unreality crept over him, as if he were dreaming—unsure why he was wandering the grounds in the dead of night.
Right, he was keeping an appointment. An appointment that, by now, seemed destined to be a lonely one.
He quickly answered himself.
But if he knew no one would come, why did he keep returning?
Maybe… anger?
"Yes, I'm angry. Furious! I want to see that person and demand to know why he's playing games with me! Even if he's ten times—no, a hundred times—stronger than me, I want answers!"
But thinking of the other's strength, he couldn't help feeling a twinge of fear. Against such overwhelming power, he was so small.
"Maybe I don't need to demand anything. Maybe he really was busy. If he just explained, I'd understand…
Besides, he wasn't hostile that day. He was actually… kind. He gave me advice.
Honestly, even if he never shows up again, I can't really blame him. He doesn't owe me anything…"
Surprisingly, the thought made Malfoy feel a little better.
If he couldn't change what happened, he could at least change how he felt about it.
He fancied himself something of a philosopher—yes, life had made him wise!
Soon, Filch's footsteps and lantern light faded into the distance. Malfoy stepped out from the shadows and continued toward the castle grounds.
This time, he didn't glance nervously around. His stride was steady, purposeful.
—If Qin Yu could have seen all the twists and turns of Draco Malfoy's inner thoughts, he'd probably be moved by such a thorough display of self-reflection.
Before long, Malfoy reached the greenhouse tended by Professor Sprout, crossed the familiar stretch of grass, and stood once more beneath the towering oak.
The little squirrel had already gathered a stash of acorns. Spotting Malfoy, it scurried off with the biggest one clutched in its paws.
The sight made a smile flicker across Malfoy's pale, elegant face.
He didn't realize it, but it was the first time in days he'd smiled—though, of course, no one was there to see it.
He took a moment to collect himself, then sat down, leaning against the sturdy trunk of the oak, quietly waiting for someone who might never come.
The night was deep and still. Moonlight filtered through the leaves, wan and cold—just like the boy's heart at that very moment.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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