Chapter 85: Draco's Protective Desire
One Saturday in December, Hogwarts Castle woke up to find several feet of snow covering the ground and the lake covered with hard ice.
On this day, Ron Weasley was finally able to stand at the door of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in person and stare blankly.
"Merlin! I'm so shocked! How did they do that?" he said to Harry in awe, and was the first to step into the door of the Wizard Wheezes.
It was a Hogsmeade open day before Christmas.
The streets were decorated with lights and filled with a rich Christmas atmosphere. The roofs of the shops on both sides of the road were covered with snow, like rows of three-dimensional cookie models sprinkled with frosting.
But people can still recognize Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes from the similar buildings at a glance.
It was so ostentatiously decorated that it looked more festive than any other house—a kind of Halloween-meets-Christmas hybrid, constantly sending wonder and laughter to passersby and even spreading to the streets beyond.
"If it weren't for those Dementors and Professor Snape on the corner, today would be perfect." Harry said to Draco happily. He looked into the store from the door, and the dazzling array of products on the shelves made his face glow with excitement.
In preparation for the Hogsmeade Open Day, Harry had been very cautious in Potions class—resisting the urge to throw a hundred crocodile hearts at Professor Snape—and hadn't given Professor Snape any chance to find fault.
Unfortunately, the professor seemed to be haunting him. A few minutes ago, Harry saw a wisp of Professor Snape's black robe and his cold, dark eyes on a street.
"He won't do anything to you. He's a professor at Hogwarts and won't attack students," Draco said impatiently.
"Yeah, Harry, you haven't done anything wrong, why are you afraid of him doing anything?" Hermione also advised Harry.
She was not as intimidated by Professor Snape as she had been before.
Last time, when she and Draco went to learn the Wolfsbane Potion, Professor Snape was still mean, but he did not drive her away. She had not changed her opinion of the Potions Master, but at least, Hermione admitted that he was truly talented and willing to fulfill his professorial duties to guide her - in a trying manner.
"But I heard Sirius sent him a Howler the day before yesterday... and trashed his office..." said Harry uneasily.
"That's why you were able to come to Hogsmeade so smoothly!" Ron shouted with a smile from inside the door of Wizard Wheezes. "It's exciting just to think about it! Your godfather's trick is amazing. I really want to know what he yelled in the letter!"
A genuine smile appeared on Harry's face.
"It's great to have a godfather. Uncle Vernon would never sign for me to come to Hogsmeade, let alone threaten Professor Snape. They'd rather have me punished every day than not gloat over my misfortune—" He said happily to Draco, "What did you talk to him about last time? He's in much better shape now. He always answers my letters and sends me lots of candy."
Draco didn't answer his question, but said meaningfully: "Yes, it's great to have a godfather. I bet your godfather might give you a satisfactory Christmas gift -"
Although Harry's face showed expectation, he said, "I like anything he gives me. Having him as my godfather is already the biggest Christmas gift."
"Stop dawdling and get in here!" Ron yelled from inside. "You've got to see this, Harry!"
So Harry temporarily forgot his doubts about Professor Snape and also forgot to explore the change in Sirius' attitude. He happily stepped into the shop and explored the wonders of Wizard Wheezes with his good brother Ron.
Draco glanced at a black robe blown by the wind somewhere on the corner of the street and was quite sure that it was Professor Snape.
Anyway, what was Professor Snape doing and why was he following Harry?
Also, he doesn't seem like the type to give in just because of a yelling letter from a parent.
What exactly was written in Sirius Black's letter? With this question swirling in his mind, Draco raised his foot and prepared to go into the store to take a look, but was suddenly grabbed by the corner of his clothes by the girl behind him.
"Draco, I have something to tell you. Come with me." She said with a serious face.
He was surprised and looked back at her pursed lips.
Shouldn't she be beaming with excitement at this rare opportunity to go out and have fun? What could be so important that she'd put on such a face, and why did she have to say it now?
However, Hermione showed him a look of determination, which was rare. Draco looked at her and his expression couldn't help but become serious. He was nervous and followed her silently.
Hermione led him a long way. They followed a path through rows of tall, snow-covered trees, leaving the bustle of Hogsmeade far behind. She headed straight for a remote, less-traveled road, stopping only near the Shrieking Shack.
There was no sign of human life here, only the howling north wind and rows of iron fences. Behind the iron fences were screaming shacks standing alone in the wasteland, exuding a sense of silence and desolation.
She paused, staring at the Shrieking Shack without looking back. In a moment, the sky darkened, and scattered snowflakes drifted down. A snowflake landed on the tip of her nose, and the cold wind made her sneeze softly.
"Please, Hermione, what on earth do you want to say? Why do you have to come here and say it?" Draco finally couldn't help asking her. He walked in front of her and stood with his back to the Shrieking Shack, trying to shield her from the biting cold wind blowing from the wasteland.
"Because it's a secret, no one else can hear it!" Hermione looked at him sharply, her expression like a vigilant cat. "You know, don't you? You were giving me a hint that day, right?"
"I don't know what you're talking about..." Draco whispered, his brain working rapidly, recalling the many unspeakable secrets he had hidden from her.
"Stop pretending! I don't believe you don't know about werewolves! I feel unwell every full moon and have to take sick leave, asking Professor Snape to substitute for me. At the same time, Professor Snape inexplicably needs help to make wolfsbane potion for him!" Hermione gasped and said in a trembling voice, "Professor Lupin, he is a werewolf, right?"
"Oh, about this matter." Draco felt relieved and regained his leisurely demeanor.
Hermione was very dissatisfied with his attitude. She said nothing, just stared at him, hoping to get a definite answer from him.
"Isn't it obvious?" Draco said casually, noticing a snowflake stuck in her hair. "With your intelligence, you should have guessed it long ago, right?"
Knowing that the dark secret in his heart was still safe, he smiled lazily, leaned forward and played with the tiny snowflake in her hair.
He managed to remove it before it turned to icy water and seeped into her hair.
"I had only vaguely guessed about this before. It wasn't until that day that my conversation with you deepened my certainty. But why didn't you tell me directly?" Hermione asked him with a slight blush on her face.
The feeling of him carefully fiddling with her hair made a certain part of her scalp feel numb.
It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. His movements were gentle, not causing her any discomfort. Instead, she felt like she was being held close to her heart and protected. It was a strange, light feeling.
"--Why are you being so vague and hesitant?" Hermione asked, her tone gradually softening.
His gray eyes—like beads of ice reflecting the color of snow—were fixed on her. How could she have the nerve to question him? She puffed her lips in annoyance, like a confused squirrel with a mouth full of hazelnuts, not knowing which one to eat first.
The boy noticed her expression and suddenly felt a desire to reach out and pinch her cheeks to dispel the anger.
But forget it, she seems a little unhappy now, Draco thought sullenly.
"Sometimes, I feel so stupid, being fooled by you, watching you give me mysterious hints..." More snowflakes were falling on her head, as if pressing Hermione's head down.
She hung her head and said dejectedly, "And I can only follow you and try to guess. Why do you do this to me?"
Draco didn't stop picking snowflakes from his hands - as if it was a big deal - he curled his lips and said, "I thought you were the type of girl who liked guessing and solving riddles."
"I like guessing and solving riddles, but I don't like being kept in the dark. There's a fundamental difference!" Hermione said angrily, staring at the tiny tracks on the snow, which seemed to be left by some rodent.
"If I tell you directly, will you believe it?" Draco chuckled lightly, feeling a little sad.
"Of course! I'll believe anything you tell me—anything." The hazelnut eyes raised defiantly and looked him straight in the eye.
Her pupils, filled with pride, were filled with a kind of determination that he had not expected.
Draco's hand, picking up snowflakes, stopped in mid-air.
"You—will believe me?" he asked doubtfully, as if he couldn't understand her eyes.
There shouldn't be such pure and sincere trust there.
She shouldn't have trusted him. She should have been wary of him. She should have been at least wary of him, she should have doubted everything.
That's how Hermione Granger should treat Draco Malfoy, isn't it?
"Of course I believe you. Why not?" she said as a matter of course.
She looked at him and always felt that the light in his eyes was extremely complicated.
Confusion and surprise were intertwined, and there was a kind of gentle and fragile ashes in his eyes.
What was he thinking about? She was very confused.
After a long pause, the stunned boy in front of him came back to his senses and whispered, "I—I'm very touched by your trust."
Touched? Hermione felt that this feeling of being touched was somewhat unbelievable.
Why? Why was he so moved? Did he feel that she didn't trust him?
Did she strike him as that? A girl full of doubt?
She thought that there would be at least some tacit understanding between them. Aren't they study partners who trust each other?
Did he think any boy could touch her hair and lull her to sleep? Hermione blushed and thought unconvincedly.
"So, what are you going to do? Tell him, or keep silent?" Draco changed the subject to hide his emotions.
He was indeed very curious about what choice Hermione would make.
How would a Gryffindor girl who calls herself "brave" deal with this matter?
Hermione hesitated and was about to say something when she suddenly saw something strange behind Draco's ear.
"Draco...if I remember correctly, no one lives in the Shrieking Shack, right?" Her voice began to tremble.
"Of course, don't you know it's the most famous haunted house in the UK?" Draco said impatiently, but his hands did not stop.
Damn the snowflakes! They were falling more and more. It looked like he would never be able to pick them all.
"Look!" Hermione trembled, raised her hand and pointed in the direction of the Shrieking Shack.
Draco briefly abandoned his snowflake-picking mission and turned back nonchalantly—following her pale fingertips—he saw a dim light flickering in the Shrieking Shack.
This was something new. He frowned. He had never seen the Shrieking Shack like this before.
"Let's go," he said suddenly, a sense of foreboding rising in his heart, "let's stay away from the Shrieking Shack."
"Okay," Hermione said cautiously. She quietly tugged on the hem of Draco's clothes and followed him back the way he had come.
However, just as they took a few steps back, a snowball appeared out of nowhere.
It suddenly rushed towards Draco, and Draco reacted quickly by tilting his head, and it brushed past his fur hat.
"Who?" His clear voice echoed coldly in the empty snowfield.
No one responded.
Draco looked around, tense. He took a step closer to Hermione, adopting a protective posture - she looked frightened and paled instantly.
Whether it was the terrifying topic of werewolves or the eerie atmosphere of the Shrieking Shack, both of them were a little nervous.
Another snowball. It came flying, this time at Hermione.
Draco shattered it with a sharp flick of his wand, sending snowflakes flying and showering their faces and bodies with icy fragments.
He didn't have time to think, his body had already reacted instinctively. He suddenly stretched out his arm and used his free hand to hug her, holding the girl tightly in his arms. Then he turned sideways, pointed his wand at the front of the snowball attack, and showed vigilance.
Hermione was startled.
His arms moved with such force and speed that they collided with each other without warning. She fell into his arms, and he held her so tightly that it felt like a dream.
She is the ignorant firework in the snow, and he is the silent spark under the ashes.
He held her in his arms, like sparks embracing fireworks, and colors bloomed in the silence.
Fireworks suddenly soared into the sky, exploded with a bang, and were dazzling.
Fireworks, lots of fireworks, fireworks were blooming in her brain.
They bloomed cruelly in clusters, sparks flying and burning the liver and lungs.
It was just a physical collision, so why did it trigger such a complicated chain reaction in her soul?
While she was stunned, the air in her brain was burned away by the fireworks, and the flames spread to her heart.
Palpitations.
That horrible feeling of palpitations.
For a moment, her legs went weak, and she was almost overwhelmed by this sudden, fresh, and intense heart palpitation.
Hermione rested her face on his shoulder and clung to him, breathing rapidly and her cheeks slowly heating up.
Then there was a sudden boiling reaction in her body, like a pot of confusing potion with the wrong ingredients, and she was tortured to pieces.
"Hermione, wand," he snapped.
She came to her senses, and with trembling hands, she tried twice before pulling out her wand, and imitated him, pointing it forward.
She hadn't wanted to look at him.
Reason told her that she should pay attention to the movement ahead. But it was no use. She couldn't help but look up and glance at his profile - extremely serious, yet with an indescribable cold beauty, which made her despair.
It was heart-wrenching and despairing. Hermione lamented inexplicably in her heart.
"I can't look at this anymore. My heart is about to explode. If you keep looking, you might die," she said to herself. She forced herself to turn her head away, forced herself to ignore his angular profile and his cool, intoxicating aura, and continued to look ahead.
Two lines of footprints quickly emerged from the distance and got closer and closer to them.
Someone must have cast an illusion spell.
Draco pointed the tip of his wand in the direction of the footprints and said coldly, "Show me what you are like, or I'll cast a curse."
Two human figures suddenly appeared in front of them. They were Harry and Ron.
They were laughing and pulling something off their heads that Draco recognized as an Invisibility Cloak.
"Harry! Ron!" Hermione cried out in surprise and delight. Her face was now almost as red as her woolen hat. "You two are so naughty!"
Yes! Harry had an Invisibility Cloak. Draco hadn't anticipated Harry using it in this situation. He breathed a sigh of relief, his body finally relaxing, no longer in an aggressive state.
Harry folded the Invisibility Cloak and put it in his pocket, still laughing. "I'm sorry, I know this kind of prank is not good, but I really couldn't help it."
"We were originally using it to hide from Professor Snape! Then we spotted you two and decided to play a joke on you," said Ron, grinning happily beside him. "Look at your expressions, you look like you're facing a great enemy! It's hilarious!"
"That's not funny." Draco frowned. "I might hurt you."
"That's quite right." Hermione relaxed, and the palpitations that had made her despair just now were temporarily relieved.
As she put away her wand, she suppressed her unstable heartbeat and asked Draco, "What spell were you trying to cast just now?"
"Confringo (thunderbolt explosion), or Expulso (flying sand and rocks)." Draco said nonchalantly.
This is obviously not the range of spells that a third grader can access.
"We just threw a snowball! Draco, your reaction is too big." Harry stopped laughing and said in disbelief.
"Has anyone ever told you that you can be scary sometimes? Creepy, scary." Ron glanced in awe at Draco and his hand still on Hermione's waist. "Especially when it comes to protectiveness."
"Yeah, maybe," Draco muttered, and he subtly withdrew his hand, pretending to concentrate on putting away his wand.
Hermione also suddenly became busy. She hurriedly took a step away from Draco, brushing the snowflakes from her hair with a somewhat exaggerated movement, the suspicious redness on her face still not fading.
"Harry? What are you doing here?" a pale, thin man came up the road and called out to them. Draco recognized Lupin from his shabby clothes.
Did he get paid at Hogwarts? Draco looked up at the sky. Please! Buy him some new clothes!
Hermione took a quiet step back. As Lupin approached, her face tightened. She stared at Lupin, then moved closer to Draco. Involuntarily, she raised her hand and slowly grasped the corner of his shirt.
"Don't be nervous. Try to stay calm and be natural." Draco tilted his head slightly and whispered to her, the white hot air he exhaled drifting onto her ears.
Hermione gave him a panicked look. The embers of the fireworks were still scattered in her heart. The heat almost ignited them again.
She felt terrible, completely torn: should she save her burning internal organs and stay away from Draco; or should she hold on to this sense of security and stay away from the seemingly kind werewolf professor who might attack them?
Lupin had come closer, smiling at Harry.
She frowned in confusion, gave up thinking, and involuntarily grabbed the corner of the boy's clothes beside her.
Lupin was completely oblivious to Hermione's thoughts; his gaze was fixed on Harry. He smiled and asked, "Is there anything unusual here?"
They all shook their heads. Lupin turned in their direction, glanced toward the Shrieking Shack, and frowned slightly.
"Professor Lupin, why are you here?" Harry asked curiously.
"I'm waiting for a friend, but he hasn't arrived yet," Professor Lupin said kindly, recovering himself. "Harry, I just happened to be looking for you. Since we've met, how about we go to the Three Broomsticks for a drink? A hot butterbeer, I suppose?"
Lupin looked better than he had last week. His youthful face was less haggard, though still lined with wrinkles.
"Say, let's go have a drink together," Ron said with chattering teeth. "It's so cold."
Draco was just hoping for that. He glanced at Hermione inquiringly and saw that she smiled sincerely, obviously agreeing with the idea - after all, being with a werewolf in a crowded place would make one psychologically safer.
So the group walked back in a lively manner, walked out of the path, and went along the street. After a few minutes, they escaped from the heavy snow and got into the warm and hot Three Brooms.
In the cold weather, everyone wanted something warm to drink. The Three Broomsticks was crowded, noisy, and filled with smoke. They finally found a slightly cleaner table in the corner and sat down with a large, foaming mug of Butterbeer.
Draco took a sip of his wine and felt a warmth rising in his stomach.
"Merry Christmas!" He clinked glasses with Hermione and Ron, and the atmosphere was very happy.
Lupin and Harry didn't come over.
They stood in front of a foggy window, looking at the shadowy figures of passers-by outside, seemingly discussing something enthusiastically.
Hermione was not paying attention to her butterbeer, but was watching Harry's movements with wide eyes and full of vigilance.
The sudden confirmation that Professor Lupin was a werewolf was a huge shock to her, and she was still panicking.
This matter is far more important than the butterbeer in front of me.
"It's okay. It's already the end of the month." Draco glanced at her and found her expression somewhat amusing. He took a sip of his wine and said calmly, "He won't suddenly explode in the bar."
Hermione chose to glare at him – how could he be so nonchalant?
How long had he known this secret, yet he turned a blind eye and ignored it?
"I always feel like you two have some secret, you know, you talk like you're playing charades." Ron looked at them suspiciously as he studied the dung balls, burp candies, and frog egg soap he bought.
"Nothing. Just discussing some trivial matters." Draco said with a smile.
"Why, you got a cat too?" Ron asked, bewildered. Judging from his expression, he must have been thinking of Crookshanks.
Draco said nothing, only raised an amused eyebrow at him.
"I can't say this is a small problem." Hermione looked at Draco angrily and emphasized, "Isn't it? The Slytherin who hates risks the most?"
Didn't he claim to "hate risk"? Now, with a werewolf professor stalking him, he wasn't worried about danger?
"Indeed, the brave and fearless Gryffindor," he drawled, raising his glass to her and taking a sip.
Hermione was furious. He seemed more concerned with whether his public demeanor was perfect enough to catch her eye than with the werewolf issue.
She seemed to be the only one in the bar who was worried.
And, yes, her unconvincing eyes were indeed drawn to him.
Why can some people show elegance even when they look bored?
Why did he look around the bar indifferently, but always put on a smile when he looked at her?
Why does she always notice these seemingly reasonable details, even magnify these details that no one cares about, and wander alone on the edge of a myocardial infarction?
And he is always so calm, composed and composed.
This is infuriating, Hermione grumbled, taking a long gulp of her Butterbeer, not noticing the froth coating her mouth.
"Hermione, on your lip—" Draco raised his eyebrows, motioning at her.
"What?" Hermione asked angrily.
Draco circled his mouth with his hand.
"What are you talking about?" said Hermione impatiently.
She was tired of the guessing game now. Rolling her eyes at him in exasperation, she took another swig, determined to ignore him.
She was suddenly fed up. Fed up with her palpitations. Fed up with his calmness at that moment.
It turns out that rolling your eyes at others with a bunch of foam at the corners of your mouth is not harmful at all, and it's even a bit cute. And the extra sip of wine Hermione took made the foam at the corners of her mouth even worse, and even more cute.
Draco couldn't bear to watch it anymore, so he leaned over, reached out for a tissue, and simply helped her wipe off the foam.
For a moment, Hermione was startled. She wanted to move away. She leaned back in her chair.
However, his eyes were fixed on her face, his expression was gentle and natural, making her look like an ignorant cat.
"Don't move," he said, moving his face slightly closer to hers, using his clear grey eyes to disrupt her mind. He pressed a tissue gently against her lips a few times, then suddenly pulled away.
"That's much better." He tilted his head and looked at her, said with satisfaction, crumpled the tissue into a small ball, and threw it on the table with a "click", hitting her heart at the same time.
Hermione started coughing violently, her face turning red.
"Anapneo!" Draco tapped her with his wand, patting her back and complaining, "Can you be more careful?"
"I didn't mean to do that!" Hermione argued with him unconvinced, her face as red as the apple called "Pink Lady".
Oh my God! She was completely confused by his pat, but also felt a little happy.
For a moment she wasn't bothered by him anymore - he was patting her - was her brain choked too?
"Merlin's stinky socks, just pretend I don't exist." Ron looked at them as if they were idiots, made a face, and concentrated on fiddling with the nose-biting teacup he bought from the Magic Tricks Shop.
At this time, Harry finally came back. He sat opposite Hermione happily and announced to them: "Professor Lupin is going to give me private tutoring on the Patronus Charm!"
"Cool!" Ron beside him whistled.
"What did he say?" Draco asked with interest, continuing to pat the choking girl.
"He thinks the Dementors have an unusual interest in me and that more practice is necessary." A shadow passed over Harry's face.
"Yes, he's quite capable. He's a decent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." Draco remained noncommittal. "You should practice harder. Maybe you'll be able to create a Patronus sooner."
"Yeah! If you have any tips, remember to share them with us!" Ron finally put down his nose-biting teacup and said with shining eyes.
Hermione said nothing.
Should she tell everyone that Professor Lupin was a werewolf?
However, she also heard what Draco said. Yes, Professor Lupin was a real Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he was much more knowledgeable than any other Defense Against the Dark Arts professor she had met in the past two years.
Professor Lupin worked hard, was competent and responsible, and taught students so much useful knowledge; moreover, he always had a good attitude towards students - the kind of encouraging teacher that Gryffindors admired - much, much better than Professor Snape's Slytherin-style harsh and sarcastic education.
Should such a talented and outstanding wizard be rejected simply because he is a werewolf?
So she fell silent.
She sipped her beer, no longer daring to gulp it down for fear that the boy next to her would wipe her mouth again. She was a little flustered by Draco's touch just now, even though it was through a tissue.
And the way he looked at her every time, the smile he had just given her, the pat he had given her on the back at that moment, and the swift and powerful hug he had given her in the snow just now, and the breath he had breathed into her ear.
All this made her heart buzz with sweetness, as if a thousand bees were buzzing.
She was a beehive whose honey had never been harvested, and every careless move he made towards her was like stirring up her nest.
At this moment, the boy looked at her, smiled at her with satisfaction, and stopped patting her hand.
Oh my god. With just one glance, her internal organs were stung by a thousand bees at once.
It was terrible, terrible, terrible. She was in a trance and felt extremely lost.
Harry took a sip of his Butterbeer and sighed contentedly.
He went on to tell his friends, "Professor Lupin told me that my father's Patronus was a stag and my mother's was a doe. He said they were both very powerful wizards."
That sip of wine seemed to brighten Harry's whole being, and his eyes twinkled with longing.
"He said, maybe one day I can be as good as them."
Draco looked at Harry and suddenly remembered that in his previous life he had conjured up that stag and scared him and Marcus, who were pretending to be Dementors, half to death.
He chuckled mysteriously and said to the black-haired boy in front of him, "You will. You will conjure up a Patronus. You will be as powerful as them, or even more powerful than them."
Harry gave him a surprised look.
"They will be proud of you." Draco said with a firm tone and a calm expression.
"Oh, thanks," Harry said, giving him a small smile.