Though Snape's temper left much to be desired, as both a professor and godfather, he still took the time to escort Hermione and Draco back to their respective houses.
Along the way, Draco noticed the somber expressions worn by the professors patrolling the castle. To someone who didn't know better, it might've looked like the Dark Lord himself had attacked Hogwarts.
Maybe it was that oppressive atmosphere that unnerved Hermione. She clung close to Draco, as if seeking some kind of protection, her worry practically written across her face...
...
The moment Draco stepped into the Slytherin common room, every single gaze turned to him.
Only then did everyone realize—Draco had been missing this whole time.
With all that attention bearing down on him, someone else might have thought they'd committed some terrible crime.
Awe.
Admiration.
Curiosity.
Shock.
All kinds of emotions were reflected in the eyes fixed on him.
Ignoring them, Draco quickly noticed that the common room was packed—it looked like every student from every year in Slytherin had been gathered together. If he remembered right, the last time it had been this crowded was when they won the Quidditch Cup.
He also caught the Prefect, surrounded by younger students, casting a helpless glance in his direction...
"Looks like I missed something."
As Draco approached the carved armchair everyone had basically accepted as his, a wide-eyed Pansy quickly trotted over. She wrinkled her nose and sniffed at him as if trying to catch a scent, making Draco twitch his lips in annoyance.
Sniff sniff~
Sniff sniff~
"Are you Fang?"
"You're the dog!"
Pansy stomped on his foot, clearly annoyed, but from the way she did it, anyone watching would think she was being playful rather than mad.
In truth, seeing Draco return had finally put Pansy's heart at ease.
She actually knew Fang too—and remembered him well.
Draco had never told Pansy about Norberta, but he hadn't exactly hidden the fact that he often visited Hagrid—and that Hermione was sometimes there too.
Still, the first—and last—time she'd gone with Draco to Hagrid's hut, Pansy, who was a little spoiled and had a mild case of germophobia, was completely horrified by the place. Between the magical creature droppings and leftover food, she nearly gagged.
Especially with Fang's awful habit of licking people's robes—Pansy had almost torn hers off on the spot. After that, she vowed never to go back.
Otherwise, she'd never have given Hermione a chance to get close...
"What were you thinking, running off somewhere at a time like this? Don't tell me you went to that smelly little shack again."
Pansy whispered sharply in Draco's ear, her expression equal parts worry and frustration. The "smelly shack" was obviously Hagrid's hut. As for whether her tone came from concern for Draco's safety or jealousy over a certain bushy-haired girl, only Pansy herself would know...
Draco didn't answer right away. He simply sat down in his usual spot with quiet confidence. The lazy squint in his eyes and the commanding presence he carried the moment he entered left several younger witches blushing and looking away.
Pansy noticed and shot them a cold glare. Then, with a huff, she kicked Draco's calf in protest.
He was already used to the little princess's antics and didn't think much of it. Instead, he turned to her and asked casually,
"What happened?"
Pansy just let out a soft snort, then squeezed in beside him—like she was staking her claim—and sat down with a huff.
Only then did some of the eyes watching them finally shift elsewhere...
"Hmph, you don't know yet? The wall-writer struck again."
"Weasley?"
"Yeah... Wait—what? You already knew?"
"Just happened to find out."
Draco recalled what Hagrid had said, and it confirmed his earlier suspicion.
"So, which Weasley was it?"
"Ron Weasley... I wish I could say that, but unfortunately, it wasn't that idiotic redhead."
Apparently, after what happened last time, Ron Weasley had landed himself firmly on Pansy's most-hated list. Her tone alone gave it away, and the disappointed look on her face made it even more obvious.
It seemed Draco wasn't the only one who held grudges—his little princess was just as vindictive.
He gave Pansy a light pat on the head, intending to comfort her. But treating her like a kid sister only made her more annoyed—she slapped his hand away without hesitation. So much for that.
Draco chuckled at the sight of her puffed-up cheeks, assuming she was just embarrassed. He shrugged and kept going with his questions.
"So that's why everyone's gathered here?"
"Mm-hmm. Even though it was just petrification, it still caused quite a stir. Word is, it's just like what happened to that cat, Mrs. Norris."
As she spoke, Pansy swung her legs playfully from the seat, looking cheerful and a bit mischievous.
"So... which Weasley was it?"
To be fair, there were currently five Weasleys enrolled at Hogwarts—including Ron—so it wasn't an easy guess. Whether that was pure coincidence or proof the Weasleys really were overachievers when it came to reproducing was anyone's guess.
Just as Draco started to feel a bit too warm and was about to tell Pansy to scoot over, she revealed who the victim was.
"Percy Weasley, the sixth-year Gryffindor Prefect."
Ah... so it was him. Hmm...
"Who's that?"
"..."
Pansy rolled her eyes in disbelief.
Seriously? He's the frontrunner for next year's Head Boy. Say something like that, and he might actually cry...