Hermione tore her gaze away from the silent opening in the wall. Maybe it was because he was no longer there, but the stubborn gleam in her brown eyes had softened, now filled with worry and unspoken emotion.
Was it frustration? Or something more?
She didn't know how long she had been standing there—long enough that even Myrtle's sobbing had gone hoarse. Finally, Hermione stirred, snapping out of her daze.
She tugged at her robe and let out a heavy sigh.
"At least give me a proper time frame, you overbearing idiot."
She had her own thoughts, and logically, she knew she should report this to the professors right away. But Draco's request before leaving still weighed on her.
"Just… how long is 'not too fast,' anyway?"
Grumbling to herself, Hermione headed toward the door, her quickened steps betraying the turmoil in her heart. She had no idea how much time had passed—or what Draco meant by "not too fast." Her anxiety made it impossible to judge.
Just as she stepped out of the bathroom, deep in thought, a figure caught her eye—and her whole body tensed.
Of course, he had noticed her too.
"Looks like it's already begun, judging by that anxious little face of yours~"
"Why... are you here, Lockhart?!"
"Tsk, tsk. Didn't I already say? You should call me Professor when we're at school. Disobedience troubles me, Miss Granger."
"Just answer me!"
Hermione's skin crawled at his insincere smirk. She pulled out her wand and backed into the doorway, instincts on full alert.
Had he predicted Draco's actions? Was the plan exposed? Was this the worst-case scenario already?
Looking at his casual, smug posture, Hermione groaned inwardly—but she didn't budge.
She couldn't let him get in Draco's way. If she could just cause a scene, maybe she could draw others here...
With that resolve, her trembling hands finally steadied.
The more time she spent with Draco, the more this once-inexperienced witch was growing—fast. Even now, facing a dangerous opponent, she hadn't lost her nerve or her will to think clearly.
Her determined eyes spun with alertness, catching Lockhart's amused attention.
"It seems Mr. Malfoy cares for you quite a bit... even taught you how to manipulate magical energy."
"Magical energy?"
"Oh~ that confused look isn't fake. I see. You don't realize how rare that kind of training is, huh? Looks like our Miss Granger is quite the cherished little Cinderella."
Hermione instinctively stepped back, discomfort prickling down her spine under Lockhart's mocking gaze—but deep inside, she couldn't ignore what he'd just said.
Was what Draco taught her... truly that valuable?
A swirl of strange emotions gripped her heart—an unfamiliar happiness, the fear of a powerful enemy, and the worry for someone she couldn't stop thinking about.
Her eyes, still unsure, reflected all that confusion.
If Lockhart had attacked at that moment, when her guard was so obviously down, she wouldn't have stood a chance.
But strangely, he made no move. In fact, he turned his back to her completely, wand exposed and completely unguarded. If not for what he'd said earlier, she might've thought he was just passing by.
"Why...?"
"It's fascinating, isn't it? I'm looking forward to that boy's future."
Tap, tap, tap...
With those parting words, Lockhart turned a corner and vanished.
Only then did Hermione's tense body finally relax, and she realized—just that brief encounter had drained her completely.
It was hard to imagine how powerful Draco must be to have gone toe-to-toe with Lockhart for this long.
And they were both just second-years...
...
Draco had no idea Hermione had run into Lockhart. At the moment, all his attention was on the seemingly bottomless shaft beneath him.
He'd been mentally prepared for a descent, but not one this deep.
He couldn't say exactly how far he'd come, only that it was far deeper than any of the school's dungeons…
Lit by the flickering glow of a Lumos charm, Draco had passed countless branching tunnels along the way—proof enough that the route to the surface wasn't a single path.
As he silently counted the time passing, his eyes caught the ground solidifying beneath him.
Damp. Slimy.
The wet squelch beneath his boots and the rank, choking stench made Draco wrinkle his nose in disgust. If Pansy had been here—clean freak that she was—she'd probably have lost her mind.
Still composed enough to entertain the thought, Draco looked ahead.
"This has to be under the lake. And this tunnel… definitely shaped by magic. Was it his doing?"
Setting his broom aside, Draco stepped into the pitch-black tunnel without hesitation, showing no fear of what might be lurking in the dark.
And there was reason to expect monsters.
The floor around him was littered with small animal bones, and closer inspection revealed faint signs of corrosion—definitely not a result of natural death.
"Something's been feeding here…"
Step.
He didn't stop because he was tired, nor because he wanted to turn back. He stopped because of what appeared before him.
The light from his wand fell across something massive, green, and disturbingly fresh, coiled loosely on the tunnel floor.
Draco's steely gray eyes narrowed, immediately recognizing what he was seeing.
"A shed snakeskin? So it really is a Basilisk."
Even facing the creature of legend, Draco showed no signs of fear. His expression remained steady, and in the shadows, his eyes gleamed with something else entirely.
Curiosity. And a spark of anticipation.
...
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