Chapter 84: Partners Who Care About Each Other
On the day he returned from the school hospital, when Draco appeared in the Slytherin common room, he was unsurprisingly greeted with cheers and applause from the Slytherins.
Once again, he earned their respect through his own abilities, not just his family background.
A blush appeared on his face, and he raised his eyes in a good mood and smiled lazily at them.
"That's impressive!" Blaise patted him on the shoulder. "I can brag about it to all those dejected Gryffindors all year long."
"Don't," Draco stopped him, shaking his index finger. "Don't be so confident yet—there are still two games to play."
"That's right," Marcus, who was passing by, agreed. "That's how you should think about it."
After getting the first victory, Marcus fell into an even more paranoid madness, as if he wanted to compete with some international Quidditch team, and led his teammates to intensify their training in the cold rain.
Every time Draco returned to the castle from the muddy Quidditch pitch, he would be soaked by the rain. He expected that Marcus's madness would continue like the cold rain until December. This was how it had been in his past life.
After Ravenclaw defeated Hufflepuff in November, Marcus's madness grew even stronger.
"Gryffindor can't afford to lose anymore. They're desperate for a victory, and we can't afford to slack off! Hufflepuff is really strong this year—I've watched them practice—Cedric Diggory has put together a strong team." Marcus said nervously in the tactics room, "Ravenclaw actually beat them! What does this mean? It means Ravenclaw is even stronger this year!"
"Relax, Marcus, we--" Montague said, patting his shoulder.
"You don't understand!" Marcus angrily shook him off. "Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw last year!"
"We've been defeated before." Perikin twirled his short stick in his hand disapprovingly.
Marcus glared at Perrikin, then turned to his favorite Seeker and said, "Draco! Ravenclaw's Seeker is very strong this year—that Cho Chang—I know she's good-looking, Perrikin, don't laugh! This is serious! Cedric is completely besotted with her, I can see it! Draco, you have to remember, this is not the time to be a gentleman."
"Oh, Malfoy can still be a gentleman?" Perikin was amused by Marcus's serious attitude. "Didn't he knock a girl from our college against the wall a few days ago? What was her name, Daphne? Tsk, the little girl was crying, and he turned around and walked away. He didn't have any sympathy at all..."
"You can't say that. Who told her to attack me? She needs to learn a lesson." Draco said coldly, and then promised Marcus, "I treat my opponents equally. Regardless of gender."
"What about Potter?" Marcus said with a sullen face, suddenly thinking of the last Dementor incident, "You saved him last time."
"I got the Snitch first, then I saved him," Draco said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I don't think there's any conflict between competition and saving people."
"Okay." Marcus sucked his teeth unsatisfactorily and turned to discuss tactical issues with goalkeeper Miles.
The atmosphere between Quidditch teams from different houses was often tense. In his previous life, the escalating rivalry between Draco and Harry was not unrelated to the sport of Quidditch.
Both were Seekers, sworn enemies on the field, natural opposites. Amidst past absurdities, their sporting rivalry gradually fostered an unending hatred.
At that time, Draco was not mature enough to understand that the enemies on the court could also be ordinary classmates, or even personal friends. They were just competing for the glory of their respective houses, just with different positions on the court, and they did not have to fight to the death in every aspect.
At that time, he was not yet smart enough to understand that for a competitor, besides expressing hostility, one could also express respect. So he tried his best to show hostility, using every possible means, and finally one day he angered Potter.
The naivety of the previous life will not be repeated in this life.
Finding a delicate balance between the two completely different relationships of "personal friends" and "competitors" is not easy, but it is not impossible.
If it were for an unrelated bystander, such as Cedric the Hufflepuff Seeker, or Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, Draco certainly did not have that patience; but for Harry, the savior who had unrealistic trust in him and often acted foolishly, the boy who had lost to him but sincerely thanked him, Draco was willing to spare a little patience and kindness.
These days, with their training times overlapping—Gryffindor's practice was right behind Slytherin's—they often crossed paths.
If their eyes met, Draco would try to greet Harry verbally, rather than being aggressive like in his previous life, or being cold and reserved like he had been when they met on the training ground last year.
And Harry, always willing to respond to Draco in a friendly manner - despite the tense atmosphere between the house teams - smiled and nodded at him, ignoring Oliver Wood's shocked look.
It was a new experience, and one Draco didn't find unpleasant.
This friendship, in the eyes of Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood, captains of two rival camps, was simply outrageous.
But Draco and Harry seemed oblivious. When you've faced a hundred Dementors together in front of the entire school, showing friendship to your captain isn't so scary.
Gradually, the other team members who were once surprised by this became numb.
The two captains were at their wit's end. Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood grumbled at each other, but they were helpless against Draco and Harry's friendship.
One evening, Draco thought of a new tactic during training and wanted to go to the tactics room to discuss it with Marcus. He faintly heard the two captains cursing at each other from inside the door.
"Don't you want to do something about it? You Woodhead, take care of your Seeker! Don't let him smile at our Seeker again! His smile is so worthless!" This was Marcus' voice.
"Why don't you take care of your Seeker? You always greet our Seeker! He was the one who took the initiative first!" Wood shouted.
"Nonsense, if Potter doesn't look at Malfoy, will Malfoy say hello to him?" Marcus said gritting his teeth.
"Malfoy should cover his eyes and stop looking around!" Wood said unyieldingly.
"Gryffindor should change its seeker to prevent Potter from letting the ball down in the game, right, Madam Hooch?" Marcus suddenly calmed down and said maliciously.
"I think you are afraid that Malfoy will show mercy to Potter's men? Why don't you replace him?" Wood said incisively.
"Draco Malfoy is the strongest Seeker! He trains very hard! He never loses a game. Why should I replace him?" Marcus said fiercely.
"Harry is the strongest Seeker! He just lacked luck and encountered the Dementors. Otherwise, he would have got the Golden Snitch long ago. How could Malfoy have got it?" Wood said in a condescending tone.
"Come on! Stop bickering like old in-laws! What are you trying to do to me? Romeo and Romeo's two rival fathers?" Madam Hooch said impatiently. "I understand. I don't think there's anything wrong with these two Seekers, nor is there any evidence that their friendship would lead to suspicion of mutual slacking. During the match, I saw two excellent Seekers giving their all. Just because they're rivals on the field doesn't mean they can't have a personal relationship, and it has nothing to do with team morale. I think you can relax a little."
Draco didn't rush in. Instead, he smiled slightly, left quietly, picked up his broom, and flew back into the wind and rain in the sky.
Yes, such a bizarre friendship would be strongly opposed by the team captain; however, in the face of absolute strength, any words of opposition seemed pale and powerless.
They are the strongest seekers in their respective houses. Even if they mind this matter, no one is willing to replace them.
It was that simple. Draco didn't understand why he had been so awkward in his past life, thinking that Slytherins couldn't be friends with Gryffindors.
Even though we became friends, the sky didn't fall.
Thinking of this, Draco, who was drenched by the rain, couldn't help but glance at the ground. Through the pouring rain, he saw a golden-red shadow appear on the ground at the edge of the court.
Draco knew that this meant Slytherin's training time was over and it was time to hand over the use of the stadium.
He also knew that when he hit the muddy ground he would often see Hermione Granger, who always cast a waterproofing charm on Harry's glasses before he took off, to ensure he could see clearly in the rain.
"What a lousy rainy day?" Harry greeted him that day.
"It's terrible. You can hardly see anything up there." Draco complained to Harry, fiddling with his wet hair.
Harry smiled at him, walked out of the shelter under the stands straight, and rushed towards the pouring rain in the sky in a tragic manner.
"Harry is lucky to have a caring friend like you." Drake said to Hermione beside him casually as he saw Harry off. His hair was wet and stuck to his face, and his robe was dripping with water, making him look a little disheveled.
Hermione chuckled as she deftly cast a dozen drying, cleaning, and warming spells on him until he was crisp and dry.
"Thank you." Every time at this time, Draco would always feel a lot of emotions.
This girl was truly not to be underestimated. At the beginning of the school year, he had used the drying spell in front of her once, and she had already memorized it and mastered it well.
In her first year, he had used a freezing spell in front of her once, and she had memorized it and used it in her second year class to freeze the group of arrogant Cornish pixies that the idiot Lockhart had released.
The Patronus Charm was the only spell she admittedly took a while to master. Even so, it only took her two months to conjure an otter. Draco still hadn't managed it.
Comparing yourself with others will only make you angry.
Draco increasingly discovered that she was more knowledgeable about spells than most wizards; at the same time, her ability to absorb knowledge without making a sound was also astonishing.
He believed that if he didn't make good use of his spare time to study academically, he would soon be able to take the top spot in the exam again, just like in his previous life.
Hermione had no idea what was going on in the boy's mind.
She looked at his loose platinum hair with amusement, busy teasing him, "Look, who's luckier now? I bet your friend cares just as much about you as he does about Harry."
The friendship between Slytherin and Gryffindor—and it wasn't just about Harry—it was never just about Harry. Draco looked into her bright eyes, and a happy bubble floated in his heart.
After observing her for a while, he gradually became convinced that his capricious behavior that night had not angered her. Her attitude towards him was still as kind as before, or even more kind.
Every time he greeted Harry, he would talk to her for a while, letting her feel proud that she had made him dry and happy, both physically and mentally, from being wet, cold and tired.
That's right, Slytherins never do anything without benefit. This is the biggest benefit of greeting Harry.
"That's more like it," he said lazily, unable to help but smile at her.
Hermione suppressed her intermittent "heartbeat syndrome" and laughed with him.
She had resolved to stop avoiding Draco because of her own condition; it was pointless; Draco was innocent, he had done nothing wrong; and, after witnessing him being attacked by the Dementors during that Quidditch match, she had found the thought of him potentially having an accident even more unbearable than her own heart condition.
Besides, he was so good at acting like a spoiled child, so adorable. Lying on the hospital bed, he showed her a completely different Draco Malfoy.
Although it only lasted for one short night, and he returned to his proud and calm self the next day, she had already remembered his coquettish look firmly in her mind.
This became their common unspoken secret.
Sometimes, looking at the stern-faced and extremely serious teenagers in the crowd, Hermione always felt content and complacent because of thinking about this secret, and often fell into a secret smile.
She wanted to see him. Every day.
The moment she met him was the happiest moment of her day.
It would have been even more perfect if he had said a few more words to her.
A Gryffindor shouldn't be fraternizing with a Slytherin. Stop any Gryffindor and they'll tell you so.
But Hermione had already done the most outrageous thing - she climbed into the bed of the Slytherin Seeker on the night that Gryffindor was defeated by Slytherin.
She even slept in his arms all night and sneaked away the next day like a ridiculous girl.
Now, what's wrong with just looking at him a little longer?
She even found some inconspicuous loopholes: she was taking Harry to the stadium for training, and happened to meet Draco three times a week, rain or shine, so no one could say anything about it; on weekdays, being partners in class was also normal, wasn't it?
Hermione Granger, with her clever Gryffindor brain, twisted out a Slytherin-style circuitous path, achieved perfect self-consistency in thinking logic, and threw away her psychological burden without hesitation.
For Draco Malfoy, the most intuitive feeling was that he regained Hermione Granger's favor overnight - as a study partner.
She no longer avoided him. Before each class, a lively, brown shadow would perch beside his desk, like a butterfly occasionally resting in a dream. He would raise his eyelids, smile at her cheerfully, and lazily pull out the chair next to her.
Then, risking her heartbeat to intensify, Hermione sat down with pride and a matter-of-fact look on her face.
The same goes for Transfiguration, Divination, and Potions.
In any class that requires collaboration, they are a pair – study partners, and everything goes as usual.
"Why?" Draco asked her with interest, fiddling with the empty beakers, graduated cylinders, droppers, and flasks. "Why don't you partner with some students who need extra help? Tired of helping others? Decided to try Slytherin ways and methods and avoid doing things that don't benefit you?"
"Of course not! I have no interest in Slytherin's methods and means! Of course I will help students in need!" Her face flushed - intending to weigh the huge, slippery crocodile heart in her hand - and she impatiently shook her hair on both sides. "If Neville asks me about his homework, I will still guide him! I just... just... I don't want to be deducted points by Professor Snape anymore!"
"Yeah, that's right." He chuckled and didn't ask any further questions.
This willful girl treated him as something she could summon and dismiss at will.
But he was only concerned with being satisfied with this - it seemed that she finally knew who was the best match for her.
Don't get me wrong, he was just talking about study partners. That's all.
Draco stared at her flushed profile with some pride, and saw her shaking her hair in distress, fearing that her hair would fall on the crocodile's heart, and he understood what was going on.
In a good mood, he picked up the hairband on the corner of the operating table, moved closer to her, and said in a lazy tone, "Don't move. I'll tie your hair up - before it touches that heart."
"Ah, thank you." Hermione said, lowering her head.
What a mistake! She'd suddenly become his partner, and had panicked and lost her composure, forgetting such a crucial step as tying her hair. Now, with her hands soaked, she felt trapped and in a dilemma. It seemed she had no choice but to ask for his help.
He was already close to her. His hands, as light as dragonfly wings, brushed her ears and gripped her hair. His hands gently curled around the roots of her hair, his fingers caressing the back of her neck lightly—feather-soft—and the tingling sensation traveled down her neck, triggering her "heartbeat syndrome" switch.
Hermione closed her eyes, suppressing the excitement in her heart.
They were at the back of the room, the students at the front so busy that no one noticed what he was doing. But she still felt something was wrong—her face was burning. She stared silently at the scales and the weights beside her, feeling as if the cold, slippery crocodile heart in her hand was still beating.
Draco had no idea what was going on in her mind.
He only knew that she had to tie her hair before making potions, and her hands were already sticky from the fishy-smelling heart, so how could she touch that lovely fragrant hair?
Besides, the time for making the potion is limited. If she just washes her hands and tosses them around by herself, she probably won't be able to hand in a decent potion to Professor Snape before the get out of class ends.
Besides, he did have a small selfish urge. He'd recently taken a liking to touching her hair. That day, after falling asleep in the hospital bed with her hair in his hands, this habit had become uncontrollable. He always wanted to hold those tan, curvy little creatures in his hands, to make his palms feel less empty.
It could be the aftereffects of a Dementor attack. Yes, that was it. He tidied her hair into a low ponytail, being careful not to hurt her or pull any unruly hair.
"All right." He looked at her with satisfaction and prepared to light the cauldron.
"It's too loose," she complained after feeling it. "It'll have to come loose before the get out of class is over."
"Oh, so? Then should I start over?" He turned around, staring at her with his gray eyes, and seemed willing to mess with her hair again.
"No, no, let's just leave it at that," she said hastily, afraid that he would give her another spike in heart rate. "It will probably last until the potion is made. Professor Snape is looking over here, let's get started."
Severus Snape was in a good mood lately.
The Slytherin team's first Quidditch victory allowed him to completely come out of the Boggart haze of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
In the staffroom, both Minerva and Lupin were a bit listless. In the entrance hall, the hourglass showing the house scores showed Slytherin's gems piled high and far ahead.
Even Potter, the "troublemaker", seemed less glaring. If this child could stop running around Hogsmeade and stay in the castle, how much trouble would be saved! Severus frowned, glanced silently at the child's green eyes, and turned his head away.
As for that stupid kid Longbottom, Severus chose to ignore him today—out of sight, out of mind. The kid's cauldron is shaky again, truly hopeless! Today, even Gryffindor, the know-it-all who memorized textbooks every day without using his brain, had given up on him and stopped standing next to Longbottom as a conspicuous bag.
However, the next second, he wanted to go and see his beloved disciple, the one who added 150 points to Slytherin, but found that standing next to him was the annoying and conspicuous bag - the know-it-all - Hermione Granger.
Of course! Where else could she stand? Only when she stood next to Draco did she appear less arrogant and ignorant, and more like a show-off. Instead, she showed the modesty and prudence of an excellent student!
"Draco, I received a letter from the former Head of House, Horace Slughorn, who mentioned your interest in the Wolfsbane Potion." He glanced at the potion in their cauldron, a hint of amusement on his face, and nodded. "I happen to be brewing this potion, and I need help... Come to the Potions classroom at 8 o'clock on Friday evening."
What a pleasant surprise! Draco had wanted to ask Professor Snape for advice for a long time. He had only learned half of the Wolfsbane Potion during the summer vacation, which had always been a regret in his heart.
"Where's Hermione? Can she come?" Draco said, glancing at the girl next to him who seemed nonchalant but was actually listening intently. "She's also learned a lot about the basics of Wolfsbane Potion, and her hands-on skills are just as good as mine. Mr. Slughorn probably mentioned her too, right?"
Professor Snape's expression returned to its usual stiffness. He glanced coldly at the Gryffindor girl and reluctantly uttered a word through his thin lips, "It's up to her whether she comes or not; if she dares to cause trouble for me, I'll kick her out."
"Oh...thank you, sir," Hermione said a little flustered.
Professor Snape snorted coldly, took a big step, and walked to the front of the classroom with his black robe fluttering.
"I always felt that he didn't like me." Hermione said bitterly, handing him the last bit of measured material. "Draco, you really shouldn't have said that just now. Look at Professor Snape's face!"
"But I thought you wanted to finish learning this potion." Draco sprinkled the ingredients into the potion, observing the color of the potion and the mist rising above the crucible. "Wasn't it you who first suggested learning this potion?"
"That's true," whispered Hermione, peering into the cauldron. "But—"
"By the way, I left early during the summer vacation because of Peter Pettigrew's incident. Why didn't you continue studying?" Draco made room in front of the cauldron so that she could get closer and take a closer look. "I'm sure Mr. Slughorn would be happy to continue teaching you."
"Oh, I was quite hesitant at the time. After all, it's a rare opportunity." Hermione shook her wand, turning the fire under the crucible to a simmer, and said to him, "But after you left, Mom and Dad discussed it with me - although it's really a pity - I finally decided not to continue studying. You know, if you don't take me home, Mom won't be at ease."
"I didn't know I was so important." Draco's lips curled up slightly. "It seems Monica really has a good impression of me."
She smiled at him and shook her head helplessly.
Her expression was a little dazed, and she seemed to be still hesitant about learning the wolfsbane potion.
"Listen, Hermione, maybe Professor Snape has a sharp tongue, but I don't think he hates you." Draco persuaded her, tidying up the remaining potion ingredients on the workbench. "If Longbottom could answer his questions completely, he would probably kneel down and thank Merlin. But when you answer the questions, he always mocks you for 'copying it verbatim from the book'. Do you know what that means?"
She opened the storage box for him so that he could sweep the herbs directly from the counter into the container. "What does it mean?"
"This means that he is extremely strict with you. He believes that you can reach higher heights, and he has higher expectations of you. He may expect that you can answer questions beyond the textbook; he may believe that your talent is far greater than what you have shown now." He slowly packed up the remaining materials, with a hint of seriousness in his tone.
"You think so?" Hermione was stunned. She had never considered the problem from this angle.
"Yes, that's what I think." A familiar look flashed across Draco's face. "To be honest, I've also been held to very high standards by him in private. Sometimes, his demands can be described as harsh. He's the kind of professor who constantly explores your limits, although sometimes his methods and means are too extreme."
"Slytherin methods and means?" she teased him.
"That's right." He was stunned for a moment and admitted.
"These are unreasonable methods and tactics. I disagree. I believe professors should encourage students rather than undermine their confidence. Look at what he did to Neville. Did it achieve any good results?" Hermione pointed out pointedly. "Besides, do you dare to say that he is not partial to Slytherin students? Even the giraffe in the castle portrait shouts that he is partial! He never deducts points from you, but when he deducts points from me, he is merciless."
"That's right. I admit that he is partial. It's a weakness of human nature." Draco shrugged and waved his wand, tidying up the bottles, jars and storage boxes on the table with the word "Pack". "But then again, aren't the deans of other colleges innocent and don't they give 'special care' to the students of our college?"
"Professor McGonagall is so fair!" said Hermione proudly, motioning to him that the potion in the cauldron was ready.
"Yes. Fair." Draco smiled briefly, glanced at the potion simmering in the cauldron, and extinguished the fire.
Hermione nodded, pleased with both the quality of the potion and his words.
"In first year, Harry disobeyed Madam Hooch's rules and flew on his broom without permission. You remember? Professor McGonagall didn't deduct his marks or give him any punishment. Instead, she made an exception and made him the Seeker for the school team, didn't she? You dare say she doesn't have a favorite student?" Draco said sharply, glancing at her. "Don't be so quick to deny it, you were pretty mad about it for a while."
Hermione was outmaneuvered by him. She suddenly didn't want to continue the topic.
Still puffing up her cheeks, she didn't look at him again and went straight to the gargoyle-shaped stone pond in front to wash her hands.
Unexpectedly, the boy persisted and followed her again, his tone finally softening a bit. "Of course, even if Professor McGonagall has her own preferences, I have to admit that she is relatively fair among the head teachers."
"Just admit it," Hermione said haughtily, letting the boy turn on the tap for her.
"Hermione, think about it," Draco said softly, looking at the proud little girl. "If Professor Snape didn't want you to study, he could have just stopped me after class and told me about it alone. Why did he have to come and tell me about it when you were here?"
"Oh," she finally looked up at him and murmured, "That's right."
"Believe me, he definitely likes you more than he lets on right now. He still has a little bit of appreciation for talent, even though it's hidden under his harsh words and ruthless face." Draco said in a positive tone, pouring a bunch of cleaning potion on her hand. "Believe me, I'm a Slytherin, and I can still understand the minds of Slytherins."
"Slytherins... well, if you put it that way—" Hermione muttered, a flicker of fighting spirit in her eyes. "Friday night at eight, isn't it?"
"Yes, the location is the Potions classroom." Draco chuckled.
Judging from Lupin's condition, Friday's wolfsbane potion brewing was quite successful. During this month's full moon, Draco didn't hear a single wolf howl.
"Professor Snape was very satisfied with our performance that day," he said to Hermione. "He asked us to try to brew a wolfsbane potion for him starting next month."
"Okay." She shrugged and went back to studying a densely written notebook, scribbling on it with a quill.
When Draco found her, she was slumped over a large table by the library window, with "A Collection of Magical Symbols," "A Spelling Chart," "A Dictionary of Magical Runes," "Simple Spells to Fooling Muggles," "Domestic Life and Social Habits of British Muggles," and diagrams of how Muggles can lift heavy objects piled in front of her in a chaotic manner.
"Why don't you go to our study corner?" he asked puzzledly, "I haven't seen you come to see me for a long time."
"I like looking out the window." Hermione smiled at him. "From this window, you can overlook the entire Hogwarts."
Although she wanted to, she couldn't be with him all the time. Otherwise, she would just focus on her heart disease and neglect her studies. Besides, she was hiding a little secret of a time-turner. If she kept trying to study in front of Draco, the secret might be exposed one day.
Draco walked to the window and glanced at the scenery outside: the nearby field, the Black Lake in the distance, the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and even a corner of the Quidditch pitch were all in sight.
Hermione Granger, even when looking at the scenery, has to grasp all the movements in Hogwarts - this is very similar to him - there is a subtle desire for control in her.
"That's a good choice of seat," Draco said. As the tip of her pen resumed its scratching sound, he silently sat down in the chair beside her and tilted his head to study her face. "By the way, can you really handle all these classes? Look at those dark circles under your eyes."
"Is it obvious?" Hermione nervously picked up a silver hand mirror and examined her eye sockets. She lowered her head and said dejectedly, "I can't help it. There's too much homework."
"Why don't you take two less courses?" Draco watched her move the books aside, as if looking for the "Rune Dictionary".
"I can't do it!" She looked at him indignantly, like a scalded cat. "You can't give up anything so easily!"
"You have to learn to make choices. Life requires choices. You can't hold everything in your hands, otherwise you will lose everything. There are not so many perfect things in the world, and no one can learn all the courses." Draco held his chin and studied her busy look of flipping through books for a while. Finally, he lazily took out the dictionary for her and handed it to her.
"Thank you! But I heard that there were students in Hogwarts' history who were able to obtain 12 OWLs!" She pursed her lips and suddenly opened the dictionary with an unconvinced expression on her face. "I'm just following in the footsteps of my predecessors!"
Following in the footsteps of their predecessors—that's all? Draco's mouth twitched, not knowing how to comment.
As far as Draco could remember, he had only heard of two Weasley children - William Weasley and Percy Weasley - who had obtained 12 OWLs certificates; perhaps, there were others who had obtained them before, but that was definitely a long time ago.
Miss Know-It-All, the perfectionist in everything. He silently studied her profile, remembering that in her previous life's OWLs, she had received a total of ten certificates: nine Os (Outstanding) and one E (Exceeds Expectations).
This was already a truly astonishing achievement, enough to make Lucius and Narcissa in their previous lives envious to the point of distorted jealousy, to the point of remembering the name, appearance, and everything about this Muggle-born girl whom they had always looked down upon.
If Hermione had been their child – had achieved such a dazzling achievement – they would have probably thrown a feast for the entire wizarding world, celebrating for a month, or even a whole year.
However, some children who come from wizarding families are lazy, perfunctory, and lack ambition. They are satisfied with just getting three or four certificates.
A little witch of Muggle origin has far higher ambitions than a child of wizard origin.
Ambition is a good thing. Draco admires ambitious girls. Slytherins admire ambitious people.
"Besides, these courses are very interesting." She added stubbornly to show that she was not solely pursuing grades or being competitive, but had other more important reasons.
"Interesting? Maybe. At least, you can drop the Divination class. I thought you didn't like it and had no interest in it." Draco shrugged, glanced at the book "Seeing the Future Through the Mist" at the bottom, and then moved his eyes back to her profile, studying the slightly dark color covered by her lower eyelashes.
"I admit I don't like Divination class. I never believed in Professor Trelawney's stuff. But since others can—" Hermione flipped through the book, a complicated expression flashed across her face. She continued to bury her head in a piece of parchment covered with words and wrote furiously, muttering, "I'm not someone who gives up so easily!"
Draco frowned. Is there any girl in the world more stubborn than Hermione Granger?
Since others can do it - why can't I do it? Draco guessed that the second half of her sentence that she omitted was probably like this.
Hermione Granger, never give up. He admires people who never give up.
She looks pretty when she purses her lips. Her focused and serious expression is also quite eye-catching.
But, won't she feel tired?
If this continues, will her fragile, slender and graceful neck suddenly break due to her 24-hour study with her head bowed?
Forgive it, Hermione. What deep hatred do you have against your cervical vertebrae?
Draco tried to find something to distract her, but there was nothing he could do. She seemed determined to spend her time at the table, flipping through her books with such gusto, her quill swishing across the parchment, she never even looked up.
She didn't even look up at him.
At this time, the ugly ginger cat named Crookshanks sneaked in along the library window sill.
It paced slowly across the windowsill, leaping over Hermione's pile of books with a lightness that Draco found difficult to understand, and finally lay down on the empty table in front of him, staring at him.
Draco glanced at it casually. The cat had a grumpy, oddly squashed face, as if it had run headfirst into a wall.
He smiled and tried to touch it, but it stood up and bared its teeth at him.
"Oh, Crookshanks, come on!" Hermione finally noticed the commotion. She slowed down her tone and said to the cat, "He's my study partner, you have to be polite."
Crookshanks waved his fat, bottlebrush-like tail meekly at Hermione and glanced at Draco with his round yellow eyes, as if sizing him up.
Draco looked at the cat calmly, feeling that it was considering something.
Finally, like a large ginger fur rug, Crookshanks relaxed his guard and lay still again before Draco.
"It often does this, you know, jumping in from the library window to see what I'm doing..." Hermione said to him, changing a new piece of parchment - the previous one she had already written on - "When I'm just reading and not writing, I'll touch it for a while, and it will be very happy."
Draco stroked Crookshanks's matted fur with interest and flipped up its ears to take a look.
"Where did you get it?" Draco asked.
"A magical creatures shop in Diagon Alley." Hermione looked up at him quickly. "What's the problem?"
"If I'm not mistaken, this is no ordinary cat," Draco said, a smile tugging at her with his light grey eyes. "It's a hybrid of a magical Kneazle and a Persian cat. A very clever cat, and very loyal."
Now, his words attracted Hermione's full attention, and she finally raised her head from among the huge books.
She looked at Crookshanks joyfully and reached out to hug him. "Really? Crookshanks, are you so powerful?"
Crookshanks raised his head and nimbly jumped into her arms to accept her caress, abandoning Draco without hesitation.
"You heartless little scoundrel," he muttered with a smile.
God knows who he is saying has no conscience.
"I didn't know anything about Crookshanks' breed. You know, when I went to buy him, the clerk said he had never been in demand. Wasn't that right, poor little thing?" she said to the cat in a sweet voice, as if no one else was around.
After she finished speaking, she grabbed Crookshanks' bulging cheeks with both hands and rubbed the tip of her nose against his.
Poor little thing? Too disgusting.
Does she say that to everyone? Draco thought with disdain, feeling annoyed by the way she nuzzled him.
"How can you be so cute? I love you the most..." Hermione said in a kind tone, caressing the soft hair on its face lovingly.
"Oh, please, Hermione, don't get so close to it, there's grass stuck on its head. Has it had a bath?" he said in an offended tone.
Crookshanks gave him a sharp look, yawned, and hopped lazily off her lap.
Draco watched it deftly move around behind Hermione's chair and stealthily jump out the window the same way it came.
"Yes, this is a big problem." She pouted and picked up her quill again. "Crookshanks, he's a bit lively, sometimes even a little wild. He always disappears mysteriously, and every time he comes back, there's dirt and fallen leaves on his paws. I guess he might have gone to the Forbidden Forest to wander around. Is it safe there?"
"It's okay." Draco said nonchalantly: "Uh - just keep an eye on it during the full moon."
"What do you mean?" said Hermione, puzzled.
"The Forbidden Forest isn't peaceful every day. Children from wizarding families are generally warned by their parents that there might be werewolves in the Forbidden Forest." Draco imitated the howl of a wolf with a half-smile - Madam Pince, who was passing by, glared at him - making Hermione laugh out loud. "Don't howl like a wolf during a full moon, or a werewolf will run towards you."
"Draco, aren't you making a big deal out of nothing? When did you become so nervous and cowardly? I remember that in the first year, you begged me to take you to the Forbidden Forest--" Hermione couldn't help laughing.
This is no exaggeration. There really are werewolves at Hogwarts! Draco thought, frowning.
Hermione didn't take his words to heart. Instead, she asked him lightly, "Hey, timid Slytherin student, can you learn some Gryffindor bravery from me once in a while?"
Brave? That was something Draco Malfoy would never have.
"I'll never be able to learn Gryffindor's bravery." After a pause, he said calmly, "Slytherins don't put themselves in danger. And I've always hated risks."
There was a hint of overly seriousness in his tone. Hermione picked up on it. She eyed him sharply, her smile fading as she asked, skeptical, "Are you serious about werewolves?"
"This—" Draco hesitated. He didn't know whether he should make this known.
Draco had always kept a respectful distance from Lupin. A Slytherin hated nothing more than getting involved in trouble. He didn't want to create unnecessary rumors and get the students talking about it.
Although he didn't want to admit it, he knew deep down that Lupin was a relatively friendly werewolf, and he was different from Fenrir Greyback.
During his time at Hogwarts, Lupin never harmed a single student.
What position does he have to influence the fate of others?
It's just that Draco couldn't help himself - he always had some ridiculous, unnecessary worry about her.
He couldn't help but think of Greyback's greedy gaze on her in his past life.
Greyback had wanted to bite her to death then, and Draco felt a pang in his heart at the thought of the werewolf's foul eyes and the horrific possibilities his words hinted at.
She knew clearly that Greyback was thousands of miles away, did not recognize her at the moment, and stayed away from her; she knew clearly that Lupin had wolfsbane potion to suppress his werewolf nature, and she was safe in Hogwarts.
He still couldn't help but care about her and worry about her. He didn't want her to have even a scratch on her body.
Maybe George was right. He was a little overprotective of her.
He's worrying too much, it's completely irrational, Draco thought, watching her face tighten.
He had probably crossed a line—come much closer than was safe—and she was becoming tense, defensive, wary.
He's just a study partner. He's nothing more than that.
"Forget it, just pretend I didn't say anything." He stood up suddenly and left in a panic and angrily.
Only the girl, who had stopped writing, was left sitting by the window, motionless. She stared at his back, lost in thought for a long time.