Chapter 55: Dehe's Past Life Story (1-3): Chatting, Ignoring, and Being Sarcastic
Past Life Story 1: Granger's Chat
Time: First Year, after Easter break, during a Herbology class break, the trio went to see Hagrid secretly raising a dragon, but were discovered by Draco who was following them.
Location: The Herbology greenhouse
This was the first time Hermione Granger had spoken to him—unless you counted that time on the Hogwarts Express, when she'd been looking for a toad for that sniveling Longbottom. That certainly didn't count as speaking to him, unless she'd been asking everyone in the carriage just to have a word with him.
He remembered that he lazily answered her with a "No", and before he had time to look up at her carefully, she ran to the next car like a gust of wind.
Although the voice was pleasant, it was too arrogant and obviously not polite.
At that moment, he curled his lips at her back and continued chatting with Crabbe and Goyle, "She's obviously not a Slytherin, is she? Just wasting her time." Crabbe and Goyle smiled at him and continued to eat heartily, looking very stupid.
Hermione Granger - a unique flower in Gryffindor.
He had never met a girl more nosy than her.
Nosy and extremely self-righteous.
In every class at Hogwarts, she jumped up and down, raised her hand, took all the correct answers to the questions, and tried to attract the admiring eyes of every professor to herself alone.
Her incomparable nerdiness put almost every child from a pure-blood wizarding family to shame. For a whole year, the Slytherin common room was filled with sour comments about her: that showy Muggle-born - the nerd - Miss Problem Solver - Miss Know-It-All...
There are all kinds of exaggerated names, as long as you pay attention and listen carefully.
How could a Muggle-born child have such a high level of magical knowledge? Draco had no doubt she could memorize the textbook, even backwards.
Is she too idle to do anything? Does she not socialize? Why, when all the other kids are outside enjoying the sunshine, does this girl with messy hair have to spend every day in the library reading books, so diligently that she is annoying?
In comparison with her, all the other students in the grade were as worthless as dragon droppings piled in a greenhouse.
Please, for Merlin's sake, is it really that great to be the first to make the feather float into the sky?
In a fit of rage, Draco even disdained to practice the Levitation Charm. Every time he practiced, he would think of her arrogant look in class.
How could anyone have learned it before him? How could anyone be more arrogant than him?
My grandfather said that the greatest contempt for a person is to ignore him.
Yes, ignore her. Don't even bother to provoke her.
A girl of Muggle origin, is she worthy? Is she worthy enough for the noble young master of the Malfoy family to care about her?
However, she seemed to have a good relationship with Potter and they often hung out together.
This made it difficult for him to ignore her presence - every time he went to provoke Potter, he could feel her eyes suddenly raised from behind the book, those eyes full of inquiry.
Draco had to remind himself that even when they occasionally looked at each other and he found that the color of her eyes was like the color of his favorite hazelnut chocolate, she was still a Muggle-born girl who loved to show off, be self-righteous, and meddle in other people's affairs.
She was also Potter's friend—the friend of my enemy was my enemy.
He would never talk to her first, Draco often thought haughtily.
Who would talk to someone like her? A muggle-born girl who spent her days trying to help the clueless Longbottom, trying to show off how smart she was!
However, that day, she stood before him with a burning gaze, her face looking a little nervous, and she took the initiative to talk to him.
This was something new. Hadn't she always been wary of him, cautious of him, and kept her distance from him?
"Malfoy." She stood alone in the corner of the greenhouse where the Herbology class had ended, and called out his last name for the first time to his face.
"Granger." Feeling puzzled, he raised his eyelids to glance at her, still slowly packing up the tools for the Herbology class.
At this moment, all the students had left, and only a few people were left in the greenhouse.
Unusually, Draco did not go with Crabbe and Goyle. During the break in Herbology, he saw the dragon hatching from its shell through the window of Hagrid's hut. He was extremely shocked and wanted to be alone for a while, so he sent them away.
How dare this uncouth gamekeeper keep a dragon without permission? Doesn't he know it's against the law?
Oh, of course Draco knew all the laws regarding dragons! If it weren't for the restrictions of wizarding law, he would have loved to keep one at Malfoy Manor himself.
When a boy's name is "Draco", it's hard not to be moved by the symbolism behind the name.
Think of that eye-catching little creature! A wrinkled black body, spiny wings that must have looked beautiful in the air, a long nose that spewed sparks of fire, orange eyes, pointy teeth, and a head covered in horns.
The living dragon was indeed extraordinary. Draco savored it with interest, and felt that it was more vivid than the dragon models in the cupboard at home.
But he never expected that this nosy girl would dare to interrupt his private moment of reminiscing and continue to try to say something to him.
"Did you see that?" Her hazelnut eyes stared at him again.
"I don't understand what you're talking about, Granger." Draco deliberately emphasized his tone, sounding somewhat vicious. However, he lowered his eyes, feeling somewhat uneasy. He was afraid that she would see his love for dragons, or even forget his oath not to speak to "Muggle-borns".
"You saw everything through Hagrid's window, didn't you?" she said slowly, as if considering the matter. "You—you won't tell Professor Dumbledore?"
"I can't say for sure." Draco finally hid his love for dragons.
He put on his arrogant demeanor again, drawling his words to whet her appetite, staring at her with his cold grey eyes, enjoying the slightly nervous expression on her delicate face. "Who knows—someday Potter might piss me off, and I'll have a good chat with the professors."
"I don't think you would." She blinked and tilted her head to look at him. She seemed not to notice the coldness in his eyes. Instead, she said in a knowing tone, "Draco, your name means dragon. You like dragons, don't you? Did you sneak over with us out of curiosity? Because you overheard us saying the word Dragon?"
This damn Muggle-born, how could she see that? She was as cunning as a cat-kneazle. Draco was a little annoyed, his eyes flickering, and he decided to change the subject, "Who gave you permission to call me by my name?"
"Malfoy." He heard her take a deep breath and immediately corrected her address. Then, she continued, "You haven't denied that you like dragons."
He stared at her and felt that this girl was becoming more and more difficult to deal with.
Why couldn't she be a little silly, a little panicked, like Potter and Weasley? Why had she dared to come to him, to confront him with an air of understanding, a gesture of negotiation? Was she so great?
"Whether I like dragons or not is none of your business." Draco raised his chin, trying not to meet her clever eyes.
He stared at the Venus flytrap hanging from the ceiling of the greenhouse, at the drooping branches and leaves, and said mysteriously, "Raising a dragon is dangerous. You can't hand a dragon over to someone who doesn't have the ability to raise one. That crude gamekeeper probably wasn't smart enough to consider the Norwegian Ridgeback's growth rate, nor did he notice it was a dragon, and he lived in a wooden house. I'm really curious to see when he can get that dragon to successfully turn him into a dish for the Hogwarts table."
"You're so rude." She glared at him, frowning.
"I'm rude?" Draco's eyes widened. For a moment, he couldn't accept that he was being accused by a little Muggle-born girl. He felt deeply offended. "No one has ever called me... rude. You know someone like Hagrid, and you call me rude?"
"Because you never speak nicely and are always sarcastic!" She glanced at him sideways.
What do you mean by being sarcastic? Slytherins always talk like that. It's called being funny, you know? Draco thought in confusion.
As expected, Gryffindor and Slytherin were completely different people. They could never appreciate the art of language, and they were simply hopeless.
"Whatever. I don't know why I should waste my time with someone like you." He gave her his most contemptuous look, shook his head, and planned to leave.
"Wait!" she said hastily, her tone less harsh. "Give us a moment, and we'll sort this out."
"Why should I give you time?" Draco couldn't control his desire to contradict her. He stopped and looked back at her arrogantly, "Why? Because of Potter, or Weasley, or you? Because you said I was rude? Do you remember that Weasley and I had a fight in the stands a while ago? Why should I be polite to my enemy?"
After listening to his string of sharp attacks, she didn't respond, but smiled. This smile made people feel puzzled, and Draco found it incredible.
"Just because you know it's a Norwegian Ridgeback," she said in a smug tone, a gleam of something unpleasant in her eyes. "You could tell what kind it was just by looking at it. I doubt you don't like dragons."
Draco was furious and frowned at her, thinking that there was no girl in the world more annoying than her. This annoying Muggle-born girl actually had some cleverness!
"A week," he whispered. "I'll give you a week. After that, I'll think of reporting that reckless gamekeeper."
There was a glint in the girl's eyes—an unpleasant glint—and it bothered Draco. This was not a good thing, and he felt himself growing weak inside.
"Don't tell Potter and Weasley about this, or the agreement will be invalid." After calming himself down, he gave a vicious, threatening smile, glanced at her, picked up his "One Thousand Magical Herbs and Their Classifications", and strode away.
All week long, Draco had been grinning maliciously, enjoying the look of horror on Potter and Weasley's faces.
Oh, the sweet taste of revenge, this was the reward for his magnanimity in letting them go, he thought proudly, finally finding a little reason for his inexplicable soft-heartedness.
The Muggle-born girl kept her promise and didn't say anything to Potter and Weasley.
However, keeping the agreed secret does not mean that she is following the rules.
"Actually, I need two weeks." A week later, she stopped him in the library and whispered to him.
"This is not part of our agreement. You have breached the contract." Draco put down the book "Curses and Counter-Curses" by Winn-Dixie Winridian in his hand and said with a frown.
"By the way, could you please stop teasing Neville?" She glanced at the book and said unhappily, "The Leg-Locking Curse is no joke. Do you know how he got back to Gryffindor Tower?"
"Oh, you saw that? Funny?" He shrugged. "I thought you'd laugh."
"That's not funny!" she glared at him. "He had to hop all the way back up, all those stairs!"
Draco pursed his lips. He seemed to have discovered a new flaw in the know-it-all: her lack of a sense of humor, which made her messy hair seem less annoying.
"What's so good about him? Is he worth all of you defending? You and Potter both like that silly little crybaby?" Draco said with disgust, "Can't you just make some normal friends?"
"Is that why you're bullying him?" Hermione said. "Are you jealous that he has friends who defend him?"
"Nonsense!" Draco said in a panic, then put on an arrogant look, "I didn't use the Body Binding Charm on him, which was already a mercy. I should have cast Petrificus Totalus on him so that he couldn't go around looking for people to complain."
She stared at him for a long moment, then she said, "Don't you have any compassion?"
"Compassion, is this something you can eat or drink? So, you called me over just to get this worthless thing from me?" Draco drawled, "I thought you came to me to beg for mercy, to ask for two days' grace."
"I do—need more time," she said sternly, recovering from her anger.
"Is this your attitude of begging?" He pouted, looked at her proud face, and asked suspiciously, "Also, are you deliberately delaying? What are you going to do with it? Was Weasley's hand bitten by it?"
"I can't tell you." A hint of uneasiness and vigilance appeared on her face. "We're already thinking of a solution. It just takes a little time."
"It's dangerous, you idiots!" Draco gritted his teeth. He wouldn't admit that he found the wariness on her face a bit annoying.
He wasn't ready to do anything to her yet, and yet she was already on guard?
Maybe she had no other options. Maybe she was just procrastinating.
He regretted it. He should have told the school directly. They probably didn't have the skills to properly handle a dragon; they didn't even know that the consequences of a dragon bite weren't as simple as a dog bite.
"If you need more time, maybe you should turn yourself into a pocket watch instead of asking me for more time!" Draco said coldly. He was afraid that if he waited any longer, the dragon would be as big as the cabin.
"You're so mean, you know that? Can't you give us another week?" She gave him an unconvinced look and began to bargain, "I won't let you see it again next week."
"Never. Not after the deadline. I will report you at any time. If I were you, I would stay away from that dragon." Draco squinted his eyes and looked at her, trying to see where she got the nerve to dare to bargain with him.
He couldn't see her face clearly, as her drooping bangs blocked his view. This made him a little irritated, and his tone suddenly became harsh. "Are you planning to get bit by that dragon? If that happens, you should stay in the school hospital and forget about raising your hand so diligently in class."
With her intelligence, she should have understood, right? Dragon bites require treatment in the school hospital, Draco thought lazily.
His rare, kind words of advice earned him an angry glance from Granger. Her face flushed crimson, and she looked furious. "Fine, whatever you want. I thought you'd at least be reasonable, but it seems I was just wishful thinking."
After saying this, she held her face high and walked away first.
It was so rude! Why should she leave first? He should have left first! Who was she showing off to? Draco was almost pissed off by this girl – she was simply testing his boundaries, ignoring his coldness, indifference, and toughness.
Besides, wishful thinking? Making that pesky Granger obey him was wishful thinking! Draco thought angrily as he walked up the stairs at midnight. According to the note in the book by Ron Weasley's bedside, he found out that she had actually tried to bring the dragon up to the tower at midnight.
After curfew! With a dangerous fire dragon! Alone and unprotected! Was she planning to burn down the tower?
This was the perfect plan that Hermione Granger's brilliant little brain had concocted—a plan that was as bad as dragon dung!
This was too risky—he had to follow and see.
Then, Draco Malfoy was pitted badly. One after another, they were set aside by Professor McGonagall, each of them was deducted 50 points, despised by classmates in the college, and had to be detained in the Forbidden Forest, humiliated like a servant.
All this is thanks to Miss Know-It-All, the annoying Granger.
From the very beginning, he should have ignored her conversation and shouldn't have made any promises with her.
In fact, to avoid complications, he'd better not say a word to her.
This Muggle-born was dangerous. She had made him feel weak.
She was like an opened Pandora's box, bringing all the bad luck to him!
Never, ever pay attention to Granger again! She's more dangerous than that Norwegian Ridgeback! On the way to the Forbidden Forest for detention, Draco Malfoy glared at her stumbling back and furry hair, swearing to himself viciously.
Past Life Story 2: Ignoring Granger
Time: Before the start of second year
Location: Diagon Alley, Flourish and Blotts
Draco Malfoy had never disliked a girl so much.
In the final exam of the first grade, he ranked second, and the first place was Hermione Granger.
Lucius was deeply shocked by this.
Draco was also deeply shocked, but he never wanted to show it.
How could a proud Malfoy show his care so easily? This is what his father said.
"A girl from a non-wizard family does better than you in every exam. I thought you would be ashamed." In Borgin and Burke's, Lucius said to Draco angrily, not giving his son any face at all.
Draco felt his face burning.
Of course he would feel ashamed, deeply dissatisfied, and resentful.
After the dragon incident, he kept a careful distance from her and never spoke to her again. He thought that this would be enough to avoid any misfortune she might cause and nothing could frustrate him.
"Hiding from someone" was a completely new thing for him. Have you ever seen Draco Malfoy need to be so careful to avoid someone?
Who knew that he could be hit by such a long-range attack?
Hermione Granger, she was determined to make things difficult for him, wasn't she? Draco was furious.
He leaned against the railing on the second floor of the bookstore, amidst the musty smell of book dust floating in the air, staring at the brown-haired girl who was happily walking around Flourish and Blotts with an uncertain expression, and couldn't help but wonder:
How did she do it?
She had only been exposed to the magical world for a year, but he had lived in the magical world for so many years, yet he couldn't even beat her in the exam?
Look at her striking face, like a bookworm who loves books like crazy. Who can not dislike her?
Look, she walked past the crowded crowd, her mouth opened in surprise, her eyes surprisingly bright, her slender fingertips slowly slid along the books on the staircase wall, happily looking for something, as familiar and natural as a pure-blood little witch.
Couldn't she have acted like any other Muggle-born wizard, a little more awed and a little more self-conscious about the magical world? Why did she always act so elated and jubilant, as if she were strolling in her own backyard?
She climbed the stairs little by little, getting closer and closer to him.
"Ah, here it is," she muttered happily to herself, and was so busy standing on tiptoe to reach the book that she didn't notice him at all.
Didn't notice him?
It was infuriating. Who wouldn't notice Draco Malfoy? Wasn't he conspicuous enough? Rude girl.
Of course he wouldn't talk to her anymore. Ever.
However, being blatantly ignored by her is also unacceptable!
He cleared his throat loudly, leaned modestly on the second-floor railing, lowered his eyes, and pretended to be looking at the bustling crowd below. He could feel her eyes on him.
Very good. She would probably shamelessly approach him, and he would reiterate his stance and completely ignore her. Let her experience Draco Malfoy's coldness, indifference, and toughness, and feel the discomfort and resentment he felt from being taunted by Lucius all summer.
There was silence. She said nothing.
Then there was the sound of footsteps going downstairs. He glanced at the stairs and saw that the girl with messy hair was leaving quietly, as if she was fleeing from a sleeping dragon.
How dare she? How dare she ignore him? Draco was furious.
Is it so great to get the top spot?
Hermione Granger, this blind Muggle-born, didn't even take him seriously!
He was furious and happened to see Potter, who loved to show off, taking a photo with Lockhart. The way he was showing off in front of others made Draco even more angry.
Potter, the scarred man who dared to reject his friendship! And, this blind Muggle-born, seeing Potter with a face covered in soot, actually smiled so happily, completely different from the way she looked when she escaped from his guard.
It seems he needs to go downstairs and provoke Potter, Draco thought lazily, so that she can feel the difference between them through comparison.
From his family background to his clothes to his demeanor, Draco Malfoy was a dazzling presence. Why was he rejected by Potter and ignored by a Muggle-born?
Sure enough, as soon as he provoked Potter, the Muggle-born girl appeared. She hurried over with a few books in her arms and walked right up to him.
Now, can I still ignore him? Draco showed a triumphant smile on his face.
At the moment, her father was confronting Potter, and she seemed so worried that she didn't even notice he was standing next to her.
She must be blind to ignore him again!
Granger was even a bit bolder, daring to confront her father directly. With a foolishly fearless air, she told her father, Lucius, "Being afraid to call someone by their name will only deepen your fear."
Oh, this stupid Muggle-born, is this the time to say something wise? Challenging Lucius is like seeking death.
As expected, her father cast a cold gaze at her and said to her: "Yes, Draco told me everything about you-"
Draco felt strangely nervous.
My father's words were so unclear! What did he mean by "everything about her"? He made it sound like he cared about her a lot!
This was definitely a grammatical error. He definitely didn't nag about her every day at home, grumbling about how annoying she was, or thinking she was always trying to be clever.
"And your parents," Lucius continued, a glint of menace in his eyes. "They're Muggles, aren't they?"
This time, she finally showed a rare trace of uneasiness and turned to look in a certain direction. In that direction, through the bustling crowd, Draco saw that there seemed to be a couple standing there, with brown hair - exactly the same as hers.
The girl was silent.
Her arrogance was finally temporarily suppressed.
Lucius knew when to stop. He was as arrogant as ever, not wanting to say a word to any Muggle-born girl, but instead turned around and ridiculed the Weasley family.
Draco had heard this kind of taunting many times at the dinner table at home. It was just the same old tune. The Malfoys and Weasleys had never gotten along.
Draco didn't listen to his father's venomous outburst. He couldn't help but stare at the matted mass of brown hair.
He suddenly felt a little irritated.
He had thought that his father's threat to her would brighten his mood. If she knew fear, if she knew how to have a little respect for pure-blood wizards and put herself in her place, he would probably let go of his obsession for the entire summer, no longer have to be obsessed with this little detail, and continue to be the happy, pretentious young master of the Malfoy family.
But no. He didn't feel happy. Instead, he felt a little lost. He felt empty inside.
This strange, eerie, unsettling emotion.
At this moment, she tightened her chin, but did not lower her eyes. Instead, she raised her eyes and stared at Lucius angrily, as if she was still a little unconvinced.
She's quite courageous, isn't she? Draco's mouth curled up unconsciously.
Even he himself could not bear his father's cold gaze and harsh words, but she dared to stare at her father all the time, as if she did not take the powerful head of the Malfoy family seriously at all.
This attitude was rare, so rare that he couldn't help but look at her twice.
Mr. Weasley now pushed past her, bringing her even closer to Draco, almost touching him, but she still didn't seem to notice him beside her, as she was too busy glaring at her father.
This is a bit embarrassing.
Did he speak to remind her of this? But he couldn't seem to open his mouth.
How could he be the first to speak to her? This went against his principle of "not speaking to her".
He stared at her blankly, studying her kitten-like profile for a while, his eyes wandering over her big round eyes, her upturned little nose and her tightly pursed red lips, and suddenly he felt that his behavior was inappropriate.
How could he study a Muggle-born's face with such interest?
How could he find her anger so alive?
Draco frowned and tried to turn his attention to the argument between his father and Mr. Weasley to see what new things they could come up with this time.
Unexpectedly, they started fighting after just a few words. This was really a bit indecent and even a bit abnormal.
How could my father fight someone in public? This wasn't just unusual; it was anomalous.
Besides, what on earth was his father thinking about fighting in a bookstore? Even if Draco wanted to fight Potter at any time, he wouldn't choose such a narrow place - the battlefield was too small to move at all.
But he had no time to complain.
The girl was caught in the chaotic and crowded battlefield and fell towards him helplessly. He subconsciously stretched out a hand and caught her in his arms, as if he was picking up a soft cat without thinking.
This behavior is completely wrong, completely irrational, and completely wrong.
Fortunately, the scene was in chaos and no one could notice anyone else.
No one noticed Draco Malfoy's mistake.
Dozens of spell books fell from the bookshelf with a loud noise, like a hailstorm, and each hailstone was enough to be fatal; even more terrifying was that the hailstorm was mixed with centuries of dust that had accumulated on the top of the bookshelves, and the musty smell was stinking and nauseating.
Everyone was trying to protect themselves from the sudden downpour and avoid the disaster. Draco didn't have time to let go of the abominable yet adorable cat - bah, she wasn't adorable - but instead, in a rage, he hugged her with his other arm, even subconsciously protecting her, protecting her face.
This was absolutely ridiculous—ten minutes ago, he was still gritting his teeth at her and determined to hate her to the end!
For a moment he caught a glimpse of her bright brown eyes, filled with panic, surprise, and perhaps something else, but he had no time to distinguish them.
Just when he was distracted, he was hit by a thick book falling from the sky, and his head felt buzzing.
It was at this moment that she, who had ignored him for a long time, probably finally saw him and finally said the first sentence of the day to him - and the only sentence.
He clearly remembered that he felt dizzy and his nose was filled with the stench of moldy book dust, which blocked his heart and lungs and made him stay in the same place. She reached out and grabbed his collar for no apparent reason, and whispered in his ear, "Are you okay, Malfoy?"
"Shut up!" He rubbed the back of his head in frustration, his eyes full of stars. He hated the weakness he felt at that moment.
He let go of her viciously and stood up amidst the tiny book dust that filled the air. "I knew it would be bad luck if I ran into you!"
He never dared to look at her again. She was misfortune itself, what was there to behold?
He strode away from the sinful staircase. To hide his panic, he quickly said something harsh to Potter over there, fearing that others would notice what he had just done.
Then, Draco Malfoy displayed his usual arrogant style, following his father calmly on the surface, resisting the urge to look at her again, and hurriedly left this smelly and doomed place covered with book dust.
Past Life Story 3: The Vitriolic Granger
Time: After the start of the second year
Place: Hogwarts Express, Quidditch Pitch, Slytherin Common Room
Keywords: Mudblood, Seeker
Draco Malfoy opened the door to the last compartment with a cocky air.
He was surprised to find that there was no one else inside except the Muggle-born girl who was reading quietly.
"Harry isn't here, and Ron isn't here either," the girl said without even looking up. She seemed to have been asked this question so many times that she was a little tired of it, and she gave the answer automatically without waiting for the question.
"Where's Potter?" He originally wanted to show off to Potter and show off the seven brand new flying brooms he donated to Slytherin House, but he searched the carriage and couldn't find them. He only found this lonely and doomed girl.
"I don't know," she sighed, her tone sounding a little worried, but her eyes were still glued to the book.
She was ignoring him again, busy reading that damn Lockhart book.
Draco wanted to turn around and leave, but he was really annoyed by her attitude.
Was she deaf or blind? She couldn't make out his voice, nor did she bother to look at him.
"So, they finally can't stand you anymore? Just leave you here and don't play with you anymore?" He said in a long tone, trying to find out what Potter was doing.
He had looked all over the carriage, and it was as if Potter and Weasley had vanished into thin air.
As Potter's best friend, she must know something, he convinced himself, and that was the only reason he had to continue the conversation with her.
"Malfoy?" She glanced at him from the top of the page, finally realizing who he was. Her brown eyes flashed with surprise. "What do you want?"
That's more like it. Any Muggle-born would have to respect a Malfoy. Draco thought with satisfaction, automatically defining the "surprise" in her eyes as "respect."
"Oh, I see. Did they miss the train?" He thought for a moment, then smiled gleefully, "If they don't get to school on time, they'll be expelled."
"There's no such rule, right?" Her face turned pale, and she finally put down the book in her hand. The book was heavy and made a dull sound on the table.
The sound brought back some indelible memories for Draco. He always remembered the scene in Flourish and Blotts where he was hit by a thick book and saw stars, which had some side effects.
The night he returned to Malfoy Manor from Flourish and Blotts, he had a large swelling on the back of his head, which distressed his mother, Narcissa, so she was furious with Lucius. Even worse, his ears had been buzzing all night, and he felt extremely weak inside.
Occasionally, he would hear her worried words: "Are you okay, Malfoy?"
Of course it's not good! Very bad! Draco thought angrily, and couldn't help but feel a little wary of her.
Ridiculous, was she worried about him? From what Draco saw, it was more like she was bothering him.
How dare she bother him? This awful girl who ignored him. Hadn't she wronged him enough? Deducting his marks, taking his top spot, robbing him of his health… and now disturbing his sleep.
Oh, and he swore never to speak to her again, lest bad luck come to him, didn't he?
As the train clanged by, he remembered his oath.
He glared at her and was about to let go of the door and walk away, but she said hurriedly: "Oh, Malfoy, I should have thanked you last time at Flourish and Blotts."
What was she trying to do, suddenly thanking him? Draco wondered warily, could this arrogant Muggle-born be so kind?
Was there some conspiracy? Like, let the whole of Hogwarts know about his involvement with her?
"Shut up." Draco said coldly, not understanding why a strange chocolate-colored mist was rising in his heart. This was wrong. He had to hate her. How could it be associated with something he liked to eat?
"Don't talk to me, you—"
He suddenly remembered the century-old dust of Flourish and Blotts that blocked his heart and lungs, surrounding them in such a stinking manner, and how he shamefully protected her - if this behavior were to be spread, it would ruin his reputation in Slytherin; he also remembered that after leaving Flourish and Blotts, his father angrily cursed out another name for those Muggle-borns - Mudbloods - and warned him to stay away from those degenerate scum, so as not to bring shame to the Malfoy family.
"You stinking little Mudblood!" he snapped. "Look, nothing happened at Flourish and Blotts! Don't even think about spreading the story. No one will believe you!"
He saw a look of confusion on the girl's face. She was quite thick-skinned. Even though he scolded her so harshly, she didn't cry.
"Don't talk to me anymore." Draco rudely brushed her confused look out of his mind - she had nothing to do with him, and no expression could move him - he said this in frustration and ran away.
Draco Malfoy considered the cubicle conversation a success.
After school started, she never spoke to him again, nor even glanced at him.
Although being ignored still makes people feel uncomfortable, fortunately, there has never been any weird rumor in Hogwarts like "the pure-blood Malfoy saved a Muggle-born from a pile of books."
So he calmed down and showed off his new broom in front of Potter, feeling that nothing in the world could hurt him.
Unexpectedly, she appeared again.
This time, she was quite blunt, mocking him in front of the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams without hesitation, "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to pay to join. They got in purely on their own merit."
She - a sharp-tongued girl! She's quite sharp, isn't she? Draco thought.
What does it have to do with her whether he spends money or not, whether he joins the academy or not? He never takes the initiative to provoke her, so why can't she just live in peace with him?
Draco was furious. He had always been treated with composure, but he had never heard such harsh words! Of course he would fight back fiercely. Anyone who dared to mess with Malfoy would have to bear the consequences.
So he retaliated with the most cutting words he could think of: "No one asked you, you stinking little mudblood."
A puzzled expression returned to her face. A normal girl would have run away crying after hearing such humiliation. But she? It was as if this statement was no big deal to her.
However, this sentence successfully angered Weasley and made him look ridiculous.
The result was that Weasley was vomiting slugs in large mouthfuls, which made Draco laugh so hard that he couldn't breathe. He fell to the ground with his limbs, pounding his fists on the ground, and almost rolling on the ground with laughter.
However, after she and Potter helped the overconfident Weasley leave, he looked up at her back and suddenly grabbed the grass on the ground.
He was furious. He felt weak and angry. He didn't know where this sudden surge of rage came from.
Let's call it a Malfoy's natural anger towards mudbloods! He got up from the grass and stroked his new broom in a feigned sense of pride amid the snickers of his teammates.
That's it! Hermione Granger, it's best to stay away from him, don't provoke him, and don't even think about spreading the story about Flourish and Blotts.
After this incident, no one would believe what he had done in Flourish and Blotts.
If she dared to tell him about that, he would say she was throwing mud and spreading rumors.
That was it, yes, no flaws, Draco thought, stroking the broom handle anxiously - this was probably the end of it.
However, he was wrong.
That night, Draco lay in his four-poster bed, having trouble falling asleep. This was unusual, as he usually slept well.
When he left the noisy crowd and was at the bottom of the quiet black lake, the anger that had grown during the day once again swept over his mind.
Hermione Granger and her sharp remark – "At least none of the Gryffindor players had to buy their way in, they got in purely on their own merit" – kept him awake at night.
She seemed to look down on him, thinking that he only had money but no ability.
Granger, how dare she look down on him! No one can look down on him.
Draco jumped off the bed angrily and paced around the dormitory upset.
It's so quiet here! Granger's words were shouting in his mind, sounding particularly loud.
He had to find some fun, to go somewhere noisy. He left the dormitory and headed to the common room - Goyle hadn't finished his praline brittle yet, and was standing by the fireplace, making a continuous "crunching" sound with his mouth.
"Tell me, what exactly did Granger mean by that?" He must have been crazy, so desperate that he treated Goyle as someone he could talk to - he would suffocate to death if he didn't talk - after all, Goyle was the only living person in front of him: "She didn't really think that, did she? That was probably just blatant jealousy?"
"Of course, of course. You're very capable. We all think you're very capable." Goyle's words were slurred. He continued to open a new bag of praline candies and said casually, "You don't mind what she said, do you?"
"Of course not, is she worthy?!" Draco said angrily, "She - she's a Mudblood, who would care about her?"
Yes, as my father said, a noble pure-blood wizard should not take Mudbloods to heart. That is self-degradation.
It's never wrong to listen to your father. He donated seven brooms to the school and is also a board member of Hogwarts. Is there anyone in the world who understands social rules better than him?
He wanted to be a proud Malfoy recognized by his father, and nothing else mattered.
She's a mudblood, there's no need to take her words to heart! Returning to bed, Draco fiercely repeated this sentence to himself a hundred times before finally falling asleep.
From then on, Draco Malfoy could only keep reminding himself that Hermione Granger was a Mudblood not worth his attention, so as to prevent those words from running around in his mind again.
On the day the Chamber of Secrets was opened, when Filch's cat was hanging on the wall, he saw her standing there in a daze with Potter. He quickly put on a grin that he had practiced for a long time, and frightened her, calling her a "mudblood" again. This time, she seemed to finally feel scared, and her face turned pale.
She should have done so long ago, standing there trembling, instead of trying to speak to him on an equal footing, or thanking him as if to a friend, or making some sarcastic remarks about him.
She had finally put herself in the right place, hadn't she? Now, did she still dare to look down on him?
Yet, even though her face paled momentarily, the words still lingered in his mind. Arrogant Granger! Her words were so harsh that they lodged themselves firmly in his mind.
During the Christmas dinner, she didn't even glance at him. She was just talking excitedly to Potter and the others, smiling brightly at the table.
Annoying girls, sarcastic girls, so annoying!
Doesn't she feel any remorse at all for her disturbing words?
"Saint Potter is a friend of the Mudbloods. He is also someone who has no feelings for pure-blood wizards, otherwise he would not hang out with that arrogant Mudblood Granger all day long." After the Christmas dinner, he returned to the bleak common room and said arrogantly to Goyle.
He had to say something because that sentence was tormenting him in his mind again, making him feel sour inside.
Goyle had a lot of questions today. He had been asking questions since that night. He forced himself to look like he was enjoying Goyle's story, and tried to convince himself again with words, "I bet a Mudblood will die this time too... I hope it's Granger."
He had been overly frank with Gore before, and that was not a good thing.
How could it be that even a fool like Goyle could sense his concern for her?
Now, he had to completely erase the fact that he cared about what Granger said.
He had said it so decisively, "I hope she dies", so Goyle would let him go, right? He shouldn't think he cared about a Mudblood, right?
As for the question of "Does Draco Malfoy really want Hermione Granger to die?", perhaps only Merlin knows the answer.
Even Draco himself didn't know what he was thinking. Why would he think about it? He had said so many harsh words since he was a child. Did he have to identify each of his words one by one to see if they were sincere or false?
He only knew that he had never been so bothered by a girl's words.
For a long time, during the period of self-deception, Draco took it for granted that his tough response was what he really wanted; he never considered another possibility - that his terrible expectations of her, his wish for her death, might be an overreaction due to being hurt by her words.
Until one day, he could no longer deceive himself; that day, he found her petrified outside the library.
Yes, few people in Hogwarts knew that it was Draco Malfoy who first discovered Hermione Granger was petrified.
When he saw her appearance, his legs went weak and he almost collapsed to the ground.
How could that once vibrant face become so frozen? Her cheeks were lifeless, her hair had lost its luster. Even the light in her eyes had gone, leaving a dead look.
It's suffocating.
For a moment, the emotion that surged through him was definitely not joy.
It was panic, shock, and helplessness.
Something was gripping his heart tightly, and then his internal organs were twisted into a mess.
—had the feeling that he was about to crash his broom into a Muggle helicopter.
He turned and ran, trying to find someone to rescue her.
It turns out that this is what it feels like to be petrified. It is far more terrifying than Mrs. Norris's petrification.
This is the thing. A child who makes harsh words often has no idea of the meaning of the words themselves. Until he truly realizes what petrification and death are, he will understand that some harsh words are not his true expectations, but just a means for him to vent his dissatisfaction.
Summer came, and he finally understood the meaning of petrification, but she lay in a daze on the bed in the school hospital, lifeless.
Sometimes, he would secretly ride on his broom and look at her through the window of the school hospital wing - Madam Pomfrey didn't allow people to look through the door, for fear that someone would harm the petrified students.
This annoying girl! Now, she was strangely quiet, so quiet that it was disturbing, so quiet that he began to despise himself for peeking at her.
He went to the greenhouse several times a week to check on the mandrakes.
One day, he heard that they were finally about to mature, and he felt inexplicably relieved.
He didn't even know what the point of doing these useless things was.
Whenever he thought of her, he wanted to constantly provoke Potter to vent his inexplicable emotions. He attacked Potter with the most vicious words, calling him "Mudblood" and making Weasley furious. Then, he secretly sketched her once bright eyes in his mind.
At one point, he had picked her up and held her in his arms, like a delicate cat. At that time, there was still light in her eyes.
Sometimes he thought that if she hadn't been so sharp-tongued, if she hadn't been a Mudblood, perhaps he would have been willing to accept her thanks.
Maybe he would be willing to try to be friends with her.
Be friends? Draco was shocked by his own thoughts. No way!
Merlin, think about it, Hermione Granger—she's such a nuisance! She talks so mean!
One sharp word from her could easily negate everything he had, negating his flying training since childhood, negating every drop of sweat he shed on his home court during the holidays, and negating his heartfelt love for Quidditch.
Yes, the Malfoys were generous with their support for the team, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable. Without considerable skill, who would have the confidence to be a Seeker? Aren't they afraid of losing face in the competition?
Draco Malfoy was a very proud man. He would never want to lose face in the sport he loved.
He knew he shouldn't get angry at such prejudiced and ignorant accusations. She knew nothing, she couldn't even fly steadily, how could she possibly understand his love for Quidditch?
However, her words were like a cruel carving knife, cutting open the gorgeous velvet curtain and revealing the unbearable wormhole behind the curtain.
Some details that he had not noticed before gradually emerged in his mind.
Although his teammates in the house team were polite to him on the surface, they were inevitably disdainful of him when he was not looking; the team leader, Marcus Flint, praised the performance of the brooms while looking at him with suspicion, and asked him to "try harder" after each training session; he had obviously participated in the school team selection, but the students of Hogwarts always felt that he was able to enter the house team entirely because of those brooms.
He could have just not cared. He could have continued to smile smugly, facing the rumors with indifference, treating them as the product of jealousy.
But ever since she said that, he couldn't ignore those details anymore. That damned Hermione Granger, she had mercilessly scratched a scar on his proud heart with her sharp little mouth.
So much so that every time Draco got on his broom, he couldn't help but think of her damned taunt. He had to train even harder, even a little too seriously. He wanted to prove himself, that he was more than just someone who paid his way into the team. He wanted to prove that he was more than unworthy of his position.
This was completely unnecessary self-torture. He could have just laid back and practiced. But he couldn't control his own stupid behavior. He began to feel and hate those eyes, those eyes full of suspicion.
"I like your attitude recently. You know, I put a lot of pressure on you to join the team. I'm glad that you can catch up and work so hard." Finally one day, at the end of training, Flint put his hand on his shoulder, smiled and said to him, "You can call me Marcus instead of Flint. I think I'd like to be your friend."
Flint had never been so open with him before, nor had he ever shown such intimacy as a friend. Draco looked at his captain in surprise and smiled at him happily.
It seemed that, in his unintentional self-torture in wrestling with Hermione Granger's harsh words, he had truly gained Marcus Flint's respect.
It felt fresh. It was like the first time he had earned the respect of others on his own merits, not his parents'.
It felt extraordinary.
It was warm, just like a black lake that had been shrouded in haze for the entire winter, suddenly being bathed in the sun that melted the ice and snow.
He seemed to understand what she meant, although it was a little late.
At the end of the semester, the mandrakes finally matured and the victims of the secret room were finally freed from their petrification.
Draco glanced at the golden and red crowd not far away and saw the girl running in alive, talking happily to Potter.
Oh, she smiled warmly, like a cat that was carried away by success.
She didn't even look at him. Even if she did, it would have been with disgust and wariness.
After all, he had called her a "mudblood" so many times.
They are mortal enemies who are irreconcilable.
The funny thing was, after he had called her a "mudblood" for a long time because of what she said, he suddenly realized that her hurtful and sharp words actually helped him.
It was ironic, wasn't it, that what had truly spurred Draco Malfoy to his next move was a sharp remark from the little Mudblood, one she had probably long forgotten, a fact he would never admit.
Absolutely not.