It was obvious that the two standing in front of Draco had no intention of reflecting on what they'd done—in fact, they looked rather pleased with themselves.
Clearly, Madam Pomfrey's warning hadn't made the slightest impact.
Draco knew all too well that Goyle and Crabbe were more brawn than brain, more fists than spells. Expecting them to come up with a detailed plan or think ahead before acting was laughable.
The word "brute" probably described them better than anything else.
It was hard to believe they were from Slytherin, the house known for cunning and strategy. Aside from being pure-blood and knowing how to follow someone stronger, there wasn't much about them that fit the Slytherin mold...
...
Pansy, who could already guess what Draco was thinking, decided to speak up first—clearly enjoying the moment.
That distraction meant Goyle and Crabbe didn't even notice the expression on Draco's face. Instead, they only got more animated.
"Such a shame. If the others hadn't interfered, I would've had that Weasley crying like a baby."
"Yeah, if it hadn't been so many against so few, we wouldn't have ended up in the infirmary at all."
They even flexed their muscles as they said it, which only darkened Draco's face further.
With Pansy deliberately egging them on, Goyle and Crabbe were walking straight into her trap, completely clueless to her intentions.
"Oh, is that so? Sounds very impressive, you two."
The icy voice drifted over lightly.
In an instant, Goyle and Crabbe snapped upright, their hairs practically standing on end. The cocky grins vanished, replaced by awkward, boot-licking smiles.
Because that voice belonged to Draco—and the tone was anything but friendly.
"O-of course... Uh... Draco, you're here too."
"Draco..."
They looked like mice who'd just run into a cat. Pansy, satisfied with her handiwork, shot them a devilish smirk as she quietly stepped back.
It finally dawned on Goyle and Crabbe that they'd been played—Pansy had totally set them up.
But Pansy didn't get to enjoy her victory for long. Draco had caught the look she gave them.
He reached out, grabbed her by the head, and pulled her to his side before turning his eyes on the two idiots in front of him.
He tugged the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah, I came to check if you'd been beaten to death."
"Ha... ha..."
"N-no way..."
Draco's blank expression made their voices trail off into whispers. Their puffed-up chests deflated on the spot.
Even with their slow wits, they could tell—Draco was seriously pissed...
...
Draco wasn't angry because Goyle and Crabbe were always stirring up trouble. It wasn't about the brawl bringing shame to Slytherin, and it definitely wasn't because he had to waste precious time picking them up.
After all, with their only real skill being how to throw punches, the kind of mess they could make was pretty limited.
Neither of them represented Slytherin as a whole, and no amount of personal reform would change the other houses' perception of Slytherin overnight.
As for the time? That was the least of it. Draco wasn't that cold.
At the end of the day, this incident wasn't going to become some grand issue involving house pride or pure-blood politics.
No, what truly infuriated Draco was their utter recklessness.
Who in their right mind charges into enemy territory just to pick a fight?
Did they seriously think they were invincible?
"Reckless, brainless, and without a plan."
...
Pansy, who was still trying to wriggle out from under Draco's hand on her head, rolled her eyes in exasperation when she heard that.
Wasn't that all just the same thing?
Sensing the sass, Draco began to ruffle her hair deliberately.
The hairstyle she had spent ages perfecting instantly turned into a frizzy mess under his hand.
That mix of humiliation and frustration made Pansy snap.
But Draco didn't bother with her flailing. His focus remained on the two standing in front of him.
"As wizards, all you know is how to throw punches. As Slytherins, you never bother to plan an escape. And as my friends, you didn't even think to talk to me first!"
"Do you really need something to blow up before you understand how serious it is?"
His voice was low, but it left Goyle and Crabbe speechless.
Instead of trying to argue, a strange emotion stirred in them.
Draco wasn't some shonen hero with a silver tongue.
His presence—the weight of his words—came from five or six years of shared history.
...
Goyle and Crabbe weren't actual idiots.
But to most wizards—even their parents—they came off as slow and dim-witted. The crueler ones didn't hesitate to call them stupid outright.
Still, they weren't mindless puppets or emotionless blocks of wood. They had tried, at some point, to prove themselves. But lacking talent in magic, there was little they could do to change their fate.
Among pure-bloods, they were destined to be the ones left behind.
That's why their families had sent them to the Malfoys—to be loyal tools, nothing more.
They buried that despair under food and silence.
It wasn't until they met Draco that they began to understand what respect meant. What friendship really was.
At some point, Pansy had gone quiet too, no longer trying to free herself from Draco's grasp.
She gazed at his profile with a look only a girl would understand.
The flush at the tips of her ears said everything—she wasn't nearly as calm as she looked.
Before that moment could stretch into something more, someone stepped out of the infirmary, breaking the tension between the four of them.
It was Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger...
...
[Upto 50 chapters ahead for now]
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