Chapter 83: Dementors on the Field
The discussion about Peter Pettigrew intensified over the next few days.
Everyone was trying to guess how he had managed to get past the Dementors' tight security and into Hogwarts.
In early November, Draco even found one or two wizard detective novels in the Slytherin common room. The author, who signed his name as "339", had a brilliant idea and summarized the various possible ways for Peter Pettigrew to sneak into Hogwarts at the end of the novel.
"Polyjuice Potion! He must have used Polyjuice Potion and disguised himself as someone to get in..." Gregory Goyle pondered for a long time over the article titled "20 Ways to Sneak into Hogwarts Secretly", and finally shouted on the sofa in the common room.
"Come on, if he can pretend to be someone else, why does he have to show his true face?" Pansy Parkinson sneered.
"The Dementors will smell it," Theodore Nott said, raising his eyelids from the book he was studying. "The smell of the soul doesn't change with the face."
"Can't he turn into a mouse?" Vincent Crabbe scratched his head, confused. "Can he dig a hole under the Dementor's feet and crawl in? Then the Dementor won't be able to smell him?"
His words caused the surrounding Slytherins to burst into disdainful laughter.
Draco didn't laugh. He raised his eyebrows and glanced at Crabbe in surprise. He had been clever enough, for once, to get close to the truth.
It wasn't that Peter Pettigrew had actually burrowed in, but when he was an Animagus rat, the Dementors certainly didn't notice him.
In a sense, Crabbe did have some brains - he accidentally revealed a secret that Sirius Black discovered after spending more than ten years in Azkaban.
However, apparently his Slytherin classmates haven't realized this yet.
Even Crabbe himself didn't realize it - he was just busy eating his honey candy and staggered into the air amid the laughter in the common room.
"Oh, Crabbe, your idea is so 'cute'." Pansy laughed so hard that she fell backwards, earning an unhappy look from Blaise Zabini beside her.
"What's the matter? Why are you staring at me?" Pansy said puzzledly.
"How can you say other boys are cute?" Blaise whispered with a dark look on his face.
"You're the cutest, okay? Are you crazy? You're even jealous of Crabbe..." Pansy muttered softly.
Merlin, this couple is so annoying. Draco heard their whispered grumbling and rolled his eyes. He shouldn't have sat next to Blaise!
"It's impossible for him to turn into a flowering shrub, or Apparate, or even ride a broomstick in broad daylight—the Dementors would know. I vote for the secret passage theory." After being coaxed into submission, Blaise finally stated his point of view proudly, "Maybe there really is a secret passage that Filch hasn't blocked yet, leading to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade or even further... Draco, what do you think?"
"Yeah, probably." Draco nodded lazily.
Blaise guessed correctly, there was indeed a secret passage in and out of Hogwarts that had not been sealed by Filch, so it was feasible.
However, thanks to the help of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Draco, who had been closely monitoring all aspects of Hogwarts using the Marauder's Map, determined that the secret passage theory was complete nonsense.
Peter Pettigrew's name never appeared on the Marauder's Map—at least, not when Draco checked.
For several nights in a row, after Quidditch training, he lay in his private bedroom at the bottom of the Black Lake, carefully searching every corner of the Marauder's Map, not only the secret passages, but even Hogsmeade village, but he could not find the name of Peter Pettigrew.
It seemed that whether or not Peter Pettigrew, the wily rat, had ever been at Hogwarts, he was no longer around.
Amidst endless debates and rebuttals, the Slytherin fireside chat drew to a close. The students yawned as they returned to their dormitories to rest, gradually dispersing from the fireplace.
Theodore hadn't risen yet. He turned a page in his book, "Strange Magical Puzzles and Their Solutions," and asked Draco calmly, "Are you also a proponent of the secret passage theory?"
"I don't lean towards any theories. They're meaningless." Draco was leaning back comfortably on the leather sofa, staring at the transparent dome above the common room. "The question was never how he got in, but what he came here for."
"That's right. Tracing back to the source is the best policy." Theodore said with a hint of agreement, and turned his gaze back to the book in his hand.
Draco sighed and continued to daydream, looking at the dark, gentle waves of the Black Lake outside the dome and the giant squid swimming through them. He still couldn't figure out the reason behind it.
A few days later, he gave up his futile search for the Marauder's Map and focused all his energy on Quidditch - on the Saturday of the second week of November, Slytherin would play against Gryffindor.
Since Captain Marcus always had a fearless look on his face every day, the members of the college team had to use every second of their spare time to practice extra - Draco was no exception.
During a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Lupin was explaining Grindylows to his students in front of the water tank in front of the podium. It was a disgusting green monster with pointy horns that liked to hide in the water plants and attack people. At this moment, it was pressing its face against the glass, making all kinds of grimace and constantly flexing its long, thin fingers.
"Can anyone tell me what the trick to dealing with it is?" He looked around at the students in the audience and finally said helplessly, "Hermione?"
"The trick is to break free of its grip. Its grip is fragile and breakable," said Hermione, a little smug in her tone.
Typical of Hermione Granger, she always came to the rescue when professors asked questions that stumped students. Seeing the girl in front of him happily sit down, Draco breathed a sigh of relief.
It seemed that she was no longer affected by Peter Pettigrew or the Dementors, and she was still engaged in academic work with great vigor, sitting in the most conspicuous seat in the classroom and becoming the most prominent student in the eyes of the professors.
However, when he found that Neville Longbottom, who knew nothing, was sitting next to her, his mood suddenly became not so good.
Good, Draco thought. After class, he might try the Tripping Curse on Longbottom.
"Very good, five points from Gryffindor. I was thinking of finding a pond for you to experience," Lupin said regretfully, "but the weather is not good today."
"Thank Merlin, I don't want to step into any pond again." Across the aisle, Ron said to his good friend Harry with lingering fear.
Yes, the weather was terrible. The wind and rain raged outside the window, just as they had in a lifetime ago.
This reminded Draco of the scene in his previous life when Dementors attacked Harry collectively.
Although Harry has mastered the Patronus Charm in this life, Draco still has many concerns.
"You must bring your wand with you during the competition, Harry." After class, he didn't bother to teach Longbottom a lesson. Instead, he stopped Harry in front of the torches and lanterns, trying his best to look sincere, feeling extremely annoyed - he felt like he was nagging like an old woman.
"Why do you keep worrying about wands?" Harry said, puzzled. "This is Quidditch, not a wizarding duel."
Draco could only shrug at him, unable to explain anything.
If Draco told Harry now that he would be attacked by Dementors during the game, it would be a bit prophetic; some people might even think that he was cursing Harry - wizards can sometimes be very superstitious, look at how popular Professor Trelawney is!
The day of the competition arrived. The weather was still bad, with rumbling thunder and strong winds.
When he woke up in the morning, Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin house team, looked sad.
"We have to throw the ball with more force, consider the impact of the wind on the ball, and pay attention to the angle," he said seriously.
"Can the match be cancelled?" Graham Montague asked hopelessly. "Ask Madam Hooch?"
"You have to have a good reason," Marcus said in a deep voice, "otherwise, even if the dean pleads, it won't work."
But Marcus looked around at his teammates and found no inspiration to shirk this unfortunate match. The Slytherin team members could only walk out of the preparation room one by one, step onto their brooms on the wet grass, and stare at their Gryffindor opponents across the rain.
At the shrill blast of Madam Hooch's whistle, both teams gritted their teeth, grabbed their brooms, and rushed into the miserable wind and rain above.
Draco was frozen by the icy rain.
His mind was in a mess. Not only did he have to fly his broom through the storm and look for the thief, but he also had to pay attention to Harry's movements.
It wasn't easy. As a Seeker on the competing side, multitasking wasn't sensible, but he couldn't help but be concerned about Harry.
Harry had saved his life once, and ever since then, it was difficult for him to ignore the danger Harry might pose.
There was a thunderclap, followed by a flash of lightning.
Draco saw the small golden ball with silver wings.
The elusive creature was only the size of a walnut, cunning and agile, but at this moment it seemed to be a little tired from flying because its wings were wet from the rain, and was taking a short rest in mid-air.
Great! Let's end this damn game!
He accelerated towards the thief, suddenly stretched out his hand towards the golden dot, and before it could react - he grabbed it!
In his ecstasy he turned to look at the sea of cloaks and tattered umbrellas, all scattered by the wind, to see if she had seen his feat; and it was then that he became aware of the screams coming from the stands.
"Harry!" people shouted.
Draco turned his head to look at Harry not far away and found that he was sliding off the broom and falling at a very fast speed.
A ball of silver-white mist emerged from the tip of the wand that Harry was holding tightly in his hand, but it didn't seem to be very effective, because there were not just one or two Dementors under the stands, but a full hundred of them, all of them ready to move.
Harry must not fall into that pile of Dementors!
The blood in his body rushed to his head. Without time to draw his wand, he rushed in a straight line like a cannonball towards the direction where Harry fell.
"No!" Hermione screamed in the stands, although the people around her were still confused about what the Slytherin Seeker was trying to do.
In an instant, she understood Draco's intention - she had seen his reckless flying method before - he must be planning to save Harry; but it was too risky, she had never seen anyone play Quidditch more recklessly than him!
Oh my God! She gripped her wand tightly and began to cast the Patronus Charm, her heart almost jumping out of her throat.
Merlin, if you really exist, please save him and don't let anything happen to him! At this moment, she prayed devoutly and desperately.
Just when the audience thought Draco was about to plunge into the group of Dementors on the ground, his broom made an incredible angle - he caught Harry with the back end of the broom in a thrilling way.
In a flash, he clamped his broom and rushed back into the sky, and in the suffocating cold anger of the Dementors, he snatched back Harry Potter - the meal they had been eyeing for a long time.
There were gasps and cheers from the stands, but Draco had no time to pay attention.
He had just been too close to the Dementors. The chill they sent to him from the dark mass of Dementors penetrated his lungs.
Horrible images immediately appeared in his mind. Even more terrifying was the hoarse growls of anger from several Dementors who were unwilling to let their feast slip away. They followed closely behind his broom, causing the joyful cheers in the stands to quickly turn into panicked screams.
Draco shivered in the freezing rain. The wind blew the cold, hard water droplets violently into his eyes, nostrils, and ears. He couldn't draw his wand to deal with the Dementors behind him because he was holding his broomstick with one hand and supporting the unconscious Harry with the other.
How helpless, no one can let go.
Thick black fog began to blur his vision. He gritted his teeth, fought for the last bit of clarity, and together with the weak Harry, rushed straight to the direction of Dumbledore's stand - this was probably the place that could best protect them at the moment.
He was exhausted. He relied entirely on his faithful companion, Nimbus 2001, to keep him afloat.
Harry behind him had lost consciousness and was staggering, relying entirely on him to hold on.
As he approached the stands, he could vaguely see silvery shapes appearing from all directions, rushing towards the darkness behind him: an otter, a tabby cat, a doe… and in front of him, a phoenix emerging from the tip of Dumbledore's wand.
The phoenix suddenly rushed in front of him, brushed past the corner of his wet and cold clothes, and flew away behind him.
The heavy feeling of darkness suddenly eased, and he felt a lightness of soul.
Draco felt like smoke and fog. He was like a bowstring stretched too far, suddenly unraveling. Finally, before it completely unraveled, he and Harry fell to the steps of the stands, causing everyone around them to gasp.
"...Their Patronus Charm worked, and those Dementors were driven back." Before he fell unconscious, he heard Dumbledore say to someone next to him, "It bought us time to react."
This was his last memory. Then there was a numbing, swirling white fog and a thick, tidal blackness. An endless blackness.
The aftermath of the Dementors was lingering in his mind. All those bad memories attacked his brain all at once:
His father was imprisoned in Azkaban, his mother wept and begged the Dark Lord at Malfoy Manor, the Dark Lord's crimson eyes and icy words... The most terrifying thing was the sight of Dumbledore falling from the Astronomy Tower, and Hermione's lifeless tears and miserable screams, which scarred his heart, just like her arms, which were being scarred with "Mudblood"...
After an unknown amount of time, in the dark vortex, his cold face was caressed by warm hands. He faintly heard a gentle and sad voice calling, "Draco...Draco..."
The voice was familiar. Draco was pulled out of his vortex by it. He forced his eyes open and found that a thin candlelight was lit in the niche of the wall lamp.
This is the ward of the Hogwarts Hospital. Everything is dim, but the girl's eyes are shining and watery.
"Oh my God, you're awake!" She rushed over and hugged his neck. It felt like something wet and hot was sticking to his neck, burning him.
"How do you—feel?" she choked out.
Draco's voice was hoarse, "Not very good."
"Does it hurt?" Hermione asked worriedly, sniffling.
"No," he said weakly, "I'm just not in the right mood."
"Oh, Madam Pomfrey said you need to drink some cheer potion." She rubbed her eyes, quickly stood up, picked up a narrow-mouthed medicine bottle from the cabinet next to her, and shook it in front of his eyes.
"Okay," Draco muttered, trying to stand up, but he was too weak to move.
"It's okay, it's okay, don't force it, I'll feed you." Hermione coaxed him softly, leaned over, carefully put the thin mouth of the medicine bottle into his mouth, and asked him to suck.
Draco was stunned by this sudden tender care, and suddenly felt a little aggrieved.
On the one hand, his weak state made him feel embarrassed. He was cold all over, feeling as if he had just been pulled out of an ice cave. He could only let the potion slide down his throat, and even swallowing felt tiring and fatigued;
On the other hand, few people would show him tenderness. Apart from his mother, no one would coax him with such gentle words; even if someone wanted to try, he would not give them the chance easily due to his arrogant and unruly nature.
And now, the little girl was coaxing him, very kindly and skillfully. At this moment, she wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, which was very considerate.
Draco hummed softly in satisfaction and closed his eyes drowsily. He heard her put the empty medicine bottle on the bedside table, making a slight crisp "clang" sound.
"How are you? Are you feeling better?" Hermione moved closer to him again, touched his forehead, and observed his expression worriedly.
When she got closer to him, the pleasant smell on her body could no longer be concealed. This smell flowed down her hair to his face, flowed down through his nostrils, and diluted the fatigue and melancholy in his body.
"Better." Draco felt his strength slowly returning. He opened his mouth and found his normal voice again. "What about Harry? Is he okay?"
"He's resting over there." She signaled him with her eyes.
Draco slowly turned his head and looked at Harry's bed - there was a silent figure wrapped in the sheets.
"He's not in a good mood. Madam Pomfrey gave him a dreamless sleeping potion so that he can have a good sleep." She leaned over and whispered in his ear.
"Any more news?" he asked wearily, raising his hand to grab a lock of her hair.
"Professor Dumbledore was mad, you should have seen him yelling at the Dementors. He chased them all out of the school..." Hermione let his fingers twirl in her hair with a smile on her face.
"Very good," he said lazily.
"Gryffindor lost the game. They were all very depressed, especially Wood. But he admitted that you played well and won fairly." She looked at him and found that he was still a little listless, and she couldn't help feeling a little worried.
"What else?" he asked absentmindedly, still clutching her hair.
Hermione glanced at Harry, who lay still in bed. She whispered in his ear, "Also, Harry's broom was smashed by the Whomping Willow, and he refused to throw away the pieces."
His good godfather would probably buy him a Firebolt. Draco thought sourly, Sirius Black, a big loser. Look at his exaggerated behavior, he is definitely a pure Black.
"What else?" He rubbed the strand of hair, as if he could never get enough of it.
"Several of the students you taught the Patronus Charm created Patronuses to protect you. Luna Lovegood's hare, Seamus Finnigan's fox, Ernie Macmillan's boar, Cho Chang's swan... it was a spectacle!" She muttered to him in a low voice. "The professors were all shocked. I guess you didn't notice it at the time? Oh, Ginny is so talented! She's only in second year, and she created a horse..."
"I only saw the otter... for a moment..." Draco remembered the otter.
Who wouldn't remember Hermione Granger's overly lively Patronus, which had once astonished him in his previous life, as being so unlike her strict and rigid personality?
Looking back now, it really suits her. A clever and lovable little thing, isn't she?
"Yeah—the otter," she mused. "That was the first time I ever managed to pull it off. I guess I was so worried and so angry at the time that it triggered some sense of faith in me."
"So, your Patronus can't take shape, not because you're unhappy - it's simply because you don't believe you can?" he asked with difficulty, his tone full of surprise.
"You could say that," said Hermione, with a rounded eye.
She didn't expect that her anger would unexpectedly inspire her fighting spirit to become a patron saint.
"You never cease to amaze, Hermione Granger." After a pause, Draco looked at her and whispered, "Otters are beautiful."
She gave him a smug smile in return. "Slytherin, I now understand the benefits you're talking about—the benefits of teaching people the Patronus Charm."
"Oh?" he said lazily, waiting for her next words.
"To be saved by your students today, huh?" she said jokingly. "Is that what you call a benefit?"
"That's funny," he said dejectedly, ignoring her joke. "The students have all managed to conjure themselves, but the teacher still can't. It's not because of a lack of conviction, nor is it because of a lack of anger."
"Lack of happiness?" she asked sensitively, a hint of worry in her tone. "Are you—unhappy?"
"Probably." He felt the hair sliding through his fingers and couldn't help but put it to his face and sniff it.
This taste is quite pleasant.
"When you get better, should I try to find some way to help you find some happiness?" Hermione said anxiously, looking at his listless appearance.
She was frightened by the Dementor incident today and wished he would immediately conjure up a complete Patronus: "I've wanted to ask you for a long time, why are you unhappy? You have everything you need, everything is so perfect——"
"Yeah, how could Draco Malfoy, who should not know the taste of sorrow, be unhappy? What an ungrateful little bastard... I'm afraid he's just forcing himself to be sad in order to come up with new words..." Draco closed his eyes and said sarcastically.
He didn't know what was wrong with him today. It was as if the switch that controlled his emotions had gone off. He couldn't stay calm, couldn't be rational, couldn't be patient. He was now depressed and negative, selfish and willful. He spoke without thinking and without regard for the consequences.
It must be a side effect of the Dementor's attack, he thought with self-abandonment, but still refused to let go of the strand of hair.
"That's not what I meant." She leaned closer to him, her eyes gleaming with worry, and stroked his platinum hair. "Wouldn't it be better to be happier? Smile more. You—you look beautiful when you smile. Your usual light smile is not bad, but your wide grin is the most beautiful..."
"Oh... really..." He squinted his eyes and looked at her, his voice a little erratic.
"Of course. Draco, are you blushing?" In the dim light of the wall lamp, Hermione looked at his face in confusion and found a hint of light red on it.
"It's a bit hot." The boy quickly closed his eyes and said to cover his ears.
At this moment, Draco suddenly felt that she was stroking his hair.
This didn't feel bad. He had always thought that he was the type who didn't like being touched or caressed.
Since his rebirth, he has been very cautious and vigilant - that is the sad shadow left by his previous life.
Once, he knocked Crabbe, who was trying to jump out from a corner to play a joke on him, back against the wall. Since then, the legend of "You can never sneak up on Draco Malfoy" has been spread among Slytherin.
Then, Brace, unwilling to believe in evil, tried to punch him from behind, and was treated the same way;
Later, more Slytherin students who did not believe in evil took turns to experiment, but neither of them gained any good results, only his indiscriminate attacks;
"Draco, you are really sick. Where is your gentlemanly manners? You will be alone until you grow old!" Pansy looked at him as if he was a fool after he knocked down a stupid Slytherin girl - she originally just wanted to try to touch his hair or shoulder.
Gentlemanly? Draco laughed.
Ever since he witnessed the horror of the madwoman Bellatrix, his gentlemanly manners were dead.
He dared not underestimate the lethality that any woman could bring. They might be more vicious than men. Of course, this did not mean that he had a better impression of men.
To be fair, Draco Malfoy didn't dare to look down on anyone, nor did he dare to trust anyone, regardless of gender.
But Hermione Granger was the only exception.
She exists independently of others.
His wariness and vigilance had no effect on her.
The feeling of being touched and caressed by her never made him nervous, but rather comfortable and reassuring.
"Why is it so hot?" Hermione complained, shivering now. "It's November. I still think it's a bit cold here."
"Are you cold?" Draco opened his eyes, put those memories behind him, and looked at her with some worry.
Her face seemed a little pale.
"Didn't you notice that the fireplace in the hospital wing was still empty? Madam Pomfrey must have forgotten about this..." Hermione muttered softly, "She just put me in and left in a hurry."
(Madam Pomfrey: On her way to report this juicy gossip to Madam Pince.)
Draco stretched his head and tried his best to look out the window in front of the bed. Outside, icy rain was falling and the cold wind was howling.
"Um, do you want to get under the covers—" he said without thinking, a little embarrassed in his tone, "It's warmer than outside."
"Ah? How can this be!" She raised her voice, "This is definitely not—"
Harry, who was sleeping soundly next door, seemed to be disturbed and moved restlessly twice.
Hermione quickly lowered her voice, fearing to disturb Harry. She leaned close to Draco's face, looked at his frown, and couldn't help but stroke it, trying to smooth it out. "That won't do. Stop it, I have to go. You should go to bed, Draco."
"Just a little while—I'm cold." Draco frowned again, looking vulnerable.
He had probably lost his mind.
His heart was left empty and cold by the Dementors, and he had forgotten how to write the words "forbearance and avoidance". His willfulness was reactivated, and his temper became reckless again.
Now, his mind was full of reckless and rash thoughts.
He wanted to hold her hair forever, or even hold a strand to fill the emptiness in his palms; he wanted to hug her tightly, just like he did that night in the auditorium, and fall asleep smelling her fragrance; or, like on the bed in the hot spring sanatorium, he wanted to wrap his arms around her unrestrainedly, so that she could blow some hot air on his collarbone and heal his cold and desolate heart.
This way, perhaps his extremely miserable symptoms could be alleviated, and he could try to get a good night's sleep on this uncomfortable bed in the school hospital, he thought indulgently.
"Really? Didn't you just say you were hot?" Hermione looked at his face suspiciously and touched his forehead again.
It's not very warm indeed, she thought.
"I feel uncomfortable... and scared... so many Dementors... you know, I feel cold all over, even my heart feels cold..." Draco decided to go all out and just started to act like a spoiled child with a sad face.
Like a cauldron of boiling despair, the aftereffects of the Dementor's attack began to sizzle again, and a profound vulnerability crept into his soul, shattering his willpower into shreds.
His rational fortress was completely shattered, and his tone couldn't help but instinctively carry a hint of coquettishness.
"Okay - don't be afraid, I'm here." Hermione hesitated for a moment, and thinking of the horror of Dementors, she couldn't help but feel sympathy for him.
Yes, with so many densely packed Dementors, he must be feeling very distressed and in great need of comfort.
At least, I can give him a hug so that he doesn't feel so lonely and cold in the hospital bed.
She acted decisively, took off her shoes, and crawled in from a corner of the quilt.
Draco was as obedient as a child about to receive candy. He moved aside positively, leaving a little space for her to squeeze in and hug him.
"Are you feeling better?" Hermione turned sideways, rested her head on his shoulder, and began to gently stroke his other shoulder, trying to make him feel better.
As expected, her embrace worked. It was filled with a subtle fragrance, gentle and warm, making him feel safe and peaceful. The bed wasn't so uncomfortable anymore. Draco wrapped his arms around her, gently holding the ends of her hair, smiling slightly, feeling the emptiness in his heart filled.
"Much better. Not so cold anymore." He hummed contentedly, drowsily being stroked by her, like a cat purring contentedly by the fireplace.
"Draco, you know I can't stay here forever, and I can't keep you warm forever," Hermione reminded him sternly, while unconsciously rubbing against his shoulder and finding a more comfortable position.
She feels a little regretful now.
Her "heartbeat syndrome" hasn't been resolved yet! That forehead kiss that morning is still an unsolved mystery in her mind; that hug at Honeydukes still makes her face hot and her heart beat fast; now, he is acting like a spoiled child again, claiming to be cold and asking her to come to his bed and cuddle with him!
She shouldn't have agreed to his request so impulsively. She dutifully stroked his shoulder, groggily thinking that his expression just now must have been so pitiful that she had momentarily lost her guard.
This was the bustling school hospital! Yet, she had thrown her blank paper, titled "How to Identify and Kill Werewolves," in the Gryffindor common room, risking discovery by running to the bedside of a bewitching boy!
Yet, he looked so fragile and smelled a little intoxicating; the warmth and friendliness of his embrace around her, his innocent expression, made her feel completely unthreatening, even a little sleepy, with a feeling of intoxicated happiness steaming through her head.
"Put me to sleep before you leave... okay? I put you to sleep last time... in the Great Hall..." Draco whined, completely lacking his usual mature and steady demeanor. Instead, he bargained with her in the tone of a little boy who was greedy for candy, as if he wanted two more candies.
"Okay, okay, Draco, how could you act like a spoiled child to me... I didn't know you were so good at it..." Hermione said helplessly. She was worried that they would be seen by Madam Pomfrey, but she was also happy because she discovered another side of the weak Draco that she hadn't had time to hide - the side that loved to act like a spoiled child.
Perhaps, all the students at Hogwarts didn't know that beneath his cold face, he actually hid a spoiled soul. She couldn't help but raise the corners of her mouth and subconsciously rubbed his shoulder.
"By the way... it's so late... why did Madam Pomfrey let you in..." He rubbed his chin on her head with satisfaction, and asked her in a daze amidst the wisps of fragrance.
"I can't figure it out... She didn't give me any trouble at all..." She said in confusion, yawning involuntarily. "Sometimes, she's quite easy to talk to..."
"Very good...very good..." he murmured, and fell into a sweet dream without darkness under her gentle and intermittent touch.
(Madam Pomfrey, who is accustomed to giving backdoors to those she thinks are young lovers: she hides her merits and fame.)
Hermione Granger was half asleep in the twilight.
She wanted to turn over and continue sleeping as usual, but she felt restrained.
She frowned and opened her eyes angrily, wanting to see what was so bold as to restrict her movements, but suddenly she saw a thin and pale face.
It's Draco.
Thick eyelashes covered his gray eyes, and his light pink lips were slightly parted, blowing his shallow breath onto her nose and forehead.
Oh, it's him.
She felt relieved and closed her eyes again. She nuzzled his neck, sniffed it with some pleasure, sighed contentedly, and went back to sleep.
However, as the light outside the window grew brighter, her brain gradually woke up.
The moment I woke up completely, my brain suddenly exploded and went blank.
Oh my god! Draco?!
The girl's heart stopped beating completely and her ears were buzzing.
She opened her eyes and moved her head with difficulty and quietly, and found that he had grasped a large handful of her curly hair ends, holding them tightly, as stubbornly as Crookshanks holding a ball of yarn.
Only then did she realize what had happened. She had been trying to coax him to sleep in the hospital bed last night, and somehow she had also fallen asleep, and hadn't woken up until now.
And—she twisted gently and immediately realized that his arms were wrapped tightly around her.
Oh my God! He slept with her in his arms all night!
Hermione's face flushed red, she was speechless, her head was dizzy, what should she do? Should she run away quickly? But her hair - was still tightly grasped by him!
She swallowed hard and couldn't help but glance at him secretly to see if he was awake. The candle in the wall lamp niche had gone out, and in the light from the window, she saw that the corners of his mouth were smiling, as if he was immersed in a beautiful dream.
Fortunately he didn't wake up!
Then she started to worry about him again - did he sleep well last night?
At least, judging from his current expression, he didn't seem to be affected by those damn Dementors. She comforted herself while suppressing her wildly beating heart.
Wait, now is not the time to think about that! She said to herself, I have to sneak back quickly!
It took her about ten minutes to painstakingly pull her hair out of his hands one strand at a time. She then painstakingly replaced herself with a new pillow from the bed next door, stuffing it into his arms so that he could continue to hug her properly, lest he whimper unhappily in his dream again.
Finally, the panicked girl managed to slip down from the boy's bed. Before Madam Pomfrey came to inspect her, she grabbed her shoes and, at dawn, like Crookshanks returning from the Forbidden Forest, she tiptoed out of the hospital door with a guilty look on her face.
That morning, more visitors were let in by Madam Pomfrey.
The Slytherin Quidditch team was all there: Keeper Miles Blackie, Beaters Perrigan Derek and Lucien Pole, Chasers Adrian Puse and Graham Montague, and a beaming Marcus Flint, who was reminiscing about Draco's final dive.
"Besides being a Seeker, you can also be a very good Chaser." Derian nodded to Draco.
"That dive was incredible!" Perry King exclaimed. "That was the best Wonski fake I've ever seen!"
Draco smiled faintly at them, but he was wondering in his heart: When did Hermione slip away? Who stuffed the big pillow in his arms when he woke up this morning?
He made such a willful and unrestrained request last night, even going a little too far.
How could she agree to him so easily? She wouldn't be angry, would she?
"Although the use isn't that good..." Marcus said loudly in a provocative tone, his noise successfully earning the roll of his eyes from the Gryffindor team members gathered next door.
Oliver Wood, the captain of the Gryffindor team, almost rushed up to fight with Marcus, but was held back by the Weasley twins, one on each side.
Madam Pomfrey came over and shouted exaggeratedly, "Time's up! Get out of here! The patients need a lot of rest. You shouldn't disturb them for too long!"
Draco was a little confused by her. Wasn't she quite nice to Hermione yesterday?
But maybe Madam Pomfrey was right this time—Harry looked a little listless.
"I'm sorry about the Dementors, and your broom," Draco said when they were alone in the ward.
"It's not your fault. You saved me." Harry stared blankly at the ceiling of the ward. "I still owe you a thank you."
Draco was silent for a moment.
No, Harry didn't owe him anything, it was he who still owed 17-year-old Harry a thank you.
However, Draco did not regret getting the Snitch.
He is a Slytherin, not some overly modest hypocrite, and he has his own honor to protect.
"As I fell, I heard my mother's voice again," Harry said abruptly. "More of what she said—before Voldemort killed her."
Draco turned to look at Harry in surprise. He hadn't expected Harry to mention this at this moment.
"I'm sorry about that," he whispered.
"She said three sentences this time. She was trying to protect me," said Harry, smiling bitterly and wiping his eyes. "You were right before, she loved me very much. If it hadn't been—"
How happy he would be if it weren't for Voldemort. Draco guessed that Harry was about to say something like this.
He saw Harry turned his head away and he guessed that Harry was crying.
"Harry, she'd be proud of you," Draco said quickly. "You almost cast a Patronus, I saw you."
"Thank you." Harry paused for a moment and said heavily, "You are the first student I have ever seen who fainted from a Dementor attack, just like me. You were unconscious yesterday afternoon. Did you remember something very bad?"
Could it be worse than the moment of a parent's death? Harry looked out the window at the wind and rain, thinking he was probably overthinking it. How could a child like Draco, so beloved by his parents, have such bad memories?
"Yeah, it's pretty bad," Draco said grimly.
Harry turned and gave him a surprised look. He hadn't expected Draco to say that.
He thought Draco would continue to keep a cold face and deny the question.
No boy would be happy to admit his vulnerability, especially a boy like Draco Malfoy who has pride engraved in his bones.
"What is it?" Harry couldn't help asking.
"I'm sorry, I can't tell you. It's so bad, so bad I can't even say it." Draco's voice dropped. "All I can say is, it's very, very, very bad."
Harry saw a kind of sad vulnerability on his face, even a kind of deep pain.
This kind of emotion should not appear on the face of a boy like Draco Malfoy who has everything going his way, but it appears nonetheless, and it is so sincere.
For a moment, Harry strangely believed him.
Draco might have experienced something very painful. Although this perception was absurd and unrealistic, he seemed to be able to sense the boy next door's depressed mood.
Because Harry had seen this look on his face when he looked into the Mirror of Erised.
On Monday morning, as they rushed from the hospital wing to the Great Hall for dinner, Harry seemed in a much better mood.
When you have a friend going through the same thing as you, you realize that you are not alone in this difficult, difficult, and even terrifying thing.
This may be another kind of understanding and companionship.