Chapter 99: The Troubles of the Young Man's Encounter + Extra 7: Heart-to-Heart Conversation at the Granger Family (Granger Family's Perspective)
On a sunny morning in mid-July, the romantic scent of jasmine and lavender permeated the towns in southern France.
In the small mountain town of Eze, located between Monaco and Nice, most tourists were still asleep, reluctant to leave. But early that morning, a leisurely figure appeared on the winding cobblestone road.
She was a girl, about fourteen or fifteen, wearing a black duckbill cap. Her slim, beautiful figure was faintly outlined in a fitted white knitted shirt and black jeans. Around her neck hung the black strap of her SLR camera, and she was fiddling with the buttons on the camera, taking a picture of a lily of the valley plant covered in morning dew by the roadside.
On both sides are towering, quaint medieval-style stone buildings, which completely block the distant scenery; only when you reach the end of the winding and narrow road ahead can you vaguely see the blue sky and sea.
After a while, she raised her head and gazed with interest at the perspective road scenery in front of her. While backing away, she was looking for the perfect composition angle, and suddenly she didn't realize that there were layers of stairs behind her.
The accident happened suddenly. She missed a step on the uneven stone pavement and her body fell backwards involuntarily, but an arm wrapped around her waist in time, saving her from falling down the stairs.
Only the black duckbill hat that had slipped down as she leaned back was damaged; Hermione was held securely in someone's arms, with thick brown hair flowing down the arm, a few strands of hair hitting the face of the owner of the arm.
"Are you planning to break your neck like a Muggle tourist?" The platinum-haired boy frowned, and the hair tickled his face. He looked down at the pale girl - she closed her eyes in fear, like a limp cat, and one hand subconsciously grabbed the collar of his gray silk shirt.
It's like yesterday, he thought vaguely.
A faint, familiar, refreshing smell lingered around her. Hermione opened her eyes, her brown pupils flashing with surprise. Her voice contained a hint of excitement, "Draco! Why are you here?"
"That's exactly what I wanted to ask you." Draco helped her to stand firmly, picked up the familiar-looking hat from the ground, and dusted off the dust on it.
Seeing her intact, the young man felt a little proud. With a mischievous laugh, he deliberately put the hat upside down on her head, causing her slight dissatisfaction. Hermione pouted and gave him a feigned fierce look. She tried to adjust her hat, but he grabbed her hand again.
"It looks nice," he said casually, "Just wear it like this."
"I doubt it," said Hermione stubbornly, blushing slightly but not adjusting her hat.
The boy, as bright as the sun, continued to hold her hand and walked towards the slightly flatter cobblestone road ahead. He said, "I don't think it's a good idea for you to travel alone on such a steep road."
"Oh, come on, Draco, don't treat me like a child! I was just too focused on taking pictures." The girl quickly pulled her hand back, complaining half-seriously.
She tried to keep some distance between them.
"Then I suggest you have someone with you when you take pictures." Draco curled his lips, feeling a little annoyed as he watched Hermione's hands begin to itch again, wanting to take pictures. "Is this thing really that fun? A Muggle camera! The people in the pictures don't even move."
"Most of the things I take pictures of are landscapes. They don't move in any camera, not even a wizarding camera." Hermione held up her camera to show him.
Draco only glanced at the camera briefly before motioning her to watch the road first.
They were passing through another maze of narrow alleys. Green grass, flowers, and vines hanging from doors and windows, along with the increasing number of pedestrians on the road, gave this ancient city a lively vitality.
Hermione was silent for a moment, snapping a few more photos. She surveyed the rough stone walls, wooden doors and windows, and creeping vines everywhere. "I can't believe it," she muttered, "the architecture here is so different, even though it's only a twenty-minute drive from Nice."
"You know, this little town built on the cliff has a history of 2,500 years, dating back to the Middle Ages." Draco said with interest, "And the name of this city is also very interesting-"
"—derived from the Egyptian goddess Isis," Hermione continued.
It's a relief to talk to someone who's well-read. Draco gave her an admiring look. "Yes, it's a name given by the ancient Phoenicians, meaning 'woman on the throne.' Did you notice the map at the entrance to the town of Eze?"
"Are you referring to the logo of the town of Eze in the lower right corner of the map? A phoenix perched on a bone, symbolizing death and rebirth, right?" Hermione said with a bright look in her eyes.
"Yes. I always feel that the symbol of this city is similar to some concepts in the wizarding world. Its name comes from Egypt, where ancient magic was prevalent. I guess there are wizards in some corner of this small town." Draco looked calmly at the increasing number of passers-by around him.
Hermione nodded in agreement.
"So, why are you here?" Draco turned his head to look at her.
After not seeing her for over a month, she seemed to have grown a few inches taller, and her face looked rosier and healthier than before. It seemed she had been getting a lot of sun recently.
"It was a family trip. We had originally planned to come to France last year, and then we met you in Bath... and as you know, I spent half the holiday learning Potions from you and Mr. Slughorn." Hermione asked curiously, "What about you? Do wizards also go on vacation like Muggles?"
She looked up at him, feeling slightly puzzled. In first grade, they were about the same height; now, the top of her head could only barely reach the height of his eyebrows.
What on earth had he eaten at home during the holidays this year? A growth potion? Why was he growing like a Whomping Willow?
"Of course, wizards have the right to enjoy their vacation, don't they?" Draco said lightly.
Then, he looked around, "Where are Mr. and Mrs. Granger? Didn't they come with you?"
"Oh, they had too much fun in Nice yesterday and seem to have caught a cold. Let me wander around by myself today while they take a day off." Hermione shrugged.
"It seems that we are all alone today." Draco smiled faintly, "Since we have met by chance - is there any place you want to go? If you don't mind, I can keep you company."
"Of course." Hermione said with sparkling eyes, "Draco, maybe you don't know some famous people in the Muggle world - I really want to see Nietzsche Trail."
"Whoever will eventually shake the world with his voice must remain silent for a long time—" Draco tilted his head slightly to look at her, and a look of surprise welled up in her eyes.
"——Whoever will eventually ignite lightning must drift like a cloud for a long time." The two looked at each other, smiled and recited the second half of the sentence together.
This sentence comes from Nietzsche's "Thus Spoke Zarathustra".
Draco increasingly discovered that they had a lot in common in terms of the types of reading they engaged in.
Why hadn't I discovered this earlier in my previous life? A thought flashed through his mind—what a pity.
"Draco, you really surprised me. I didn't know you would read Muggle philosophy books." Hermione finally turned off the camera lens and concentrated on walking with Draco.
"It's a bit of a mixed bag." Draco shrugged.
Philosophy and magic are often closely linked. For example, the numerology used in Arithmancy is related to Pythagorean theory, and learning more about it wouldn't hurt. The library at Malfoy Manor has an entire shelf filled with philosophical books on this subject.
So, under the gradually scorching sun, they walked up along the famous "Nietzsche Trail" until they reached the high cliff of the town, where they could not only overlook the entire town but also see the blue Mediterranean scenery.
Hermione took a lot more pictures.
"Are you taking these photos out of personal interest?" Draco asked doubtfully.
"Not entirely. I'm planning to bring it back to show Mom and Dad," she said. "I guess they'll be sorry they can't see it. We're leaving tomorrow."
"I see." He put his hands in his pockets and waited patiently, scanning everything around him calmly. After she finished taking the photo, he asked, "Are you hungry?"
"A little."
"Together?" Draco nodded towards a restaurant on the side of the road with a sign reading Chateau Eza. Hermione smiled at him, agreeing.
The restaurant waiter was standing at the door, bored, staring at the street.
This was his last bit of free time before the busy lunch break began. He thought he could stay awake for at least another half hour, but unexpectedly, a boy with platinum blond hair and a girl with brown hair walked to the door of the restaurant, abruptly ending his break.
They were definitely not locals. Their pure British accents betrayed their origins—the islands across the English Channel. The waiter, initially impatient, was touched by the boy's generous tip. He quickly and respectfully led the two guests to a top-floor table with a view of the distant mountains and the sea.
The boy was very considerate to the girl. He waved to the waiter who was about to come forward to serve her, personally pulled out the chair on her right, and gently pushed it back the moment the girl sat down. His posture was skillful and natural, as if he had undergone some high-level waiter training in Paris.
Then, the boy sat down on the chair in front of the girl with a relaxed posture. From the boy's elegant demeanor, the sharp-eyed waiter judged that his family was either wealthy or noble.
He didn't dare to look down on them anymore. He attentively served them two glasses of sparkling water and placed two menus neatly in front of them. The waiter stood not far from them waiting for their orders.
Hermione didn't care about what to eat; her interest was in the distant mountain scenery. With the sound of the camera clicking, Draco raised his hand to call the waiter, who quickly ordered the recommended dish for her.
"Can I see the pictures you took?" He had finally become interested in the Muggle camera she had been fiddling with on the table while they were waiting for their food.
"Of course," Hermione said happily, waving at him to come over and look.
So Draco walked slowly behind her and looked down. The camera screen was small and the sunlight was a bit glaring, so he had to put his hands on both sides of her chair and lean over to see.
"Please help me turn the pages. I'm not very familiar with these Muggle things." He said lazily in her ear, watching her operate the camera and turn the pages forward and backward under his command.
The plants in the foreground, the patterns on the old stone walls, the medieval buildings, the sky and the ocean in the distance...even some things she had photographed before that did not belong to the town of Eze, mostly artworks in art galleries and museums.
"It can be seen that you have your own unique ideas on composition and shooting style." He said with a hint of appreciation in his tone.
"Really? Mom said that too, but I thought she was just encouraging me." She looked back at him with a smile on her face and found that his face was very close to her, so close that she could see his light eyelashes clearly.
Only then did she realize that his posture was somewhat ambiguous - as if he was circling her invisibly.
He didn't touch her, but this vague closeness was more torturous than real touch.
Her back suddenly stiffened.
"You have a good aesthetic sense. I didn't know you were so interested in ancient architecture and works of art." The gray eyes moved from the camera screen to her face and met her eyes.
There was a hint of panic in the girl's brown eyes. She found that her heart seemed to stop for a beat, and then a torrent of blood gushed out of her ventricle.
Hermione originally thought that after the summer vacation and psychological preparation, she would be able to do a little better; but now it seems that all her efforts were in vain.
How annoying. She hurriedly opened the conversation, trying to drown out her rapid heartbeat with her dense words. "Oh, if I didn't become a witch, I might choose to be a historian or engage in ancient art research - I have always been interested in old things."
"Then I thought you might like Malfoy Manor." Draco's eyes lit up, and he tilted his head to look into her eyes, a faint smile on his lips. "There are antiques and paintings collected by the Malfoy family for centuries. Sometimes, I think no one appreciates them, what a waste of resources."
For a moment, Hermione's brain seemed to be sucked away by the light gray vortex.
"Really? Are they all magical items?" she asked panickedly, looking away and clutching her camera tightly.
"Some of them are magical items, and most of them are ordinary works of art and antiques, but they have a long history." Draco said with a smile, thinking that the rosy look on her face was quite beautiful.
"Oh, I see." She whispered, blinking nervously, suddenly recalling the scene of him hugging her on the steps not long ago.
Too close. Being near him always made her feel a thrill. This was not good.
At this moment, a Muggle couple of tourists from the next table came over and asked Hermione to take a photo for them.
She felt as if she had been granted amnesty, and used this as an excuse to escape his frightening presence. After taking a number of photos of the Muggle couple, her heartbeat was finally brought back to normal.
However, the grateful female tourist seemed intent on further troubling Hermione's pity. She said enthusiastically, "Let me take a few photos for you too! It would be a shame not to take a few photos together as a couple."
"We're not—" Hermione was about to correct the tourist's misunderstanding, but she heard Draco say, "Oh, thank you for your help then."
Hermione was stunned. Draco did not refute the Muggle female tourist's words, and even smiled kindly at her. He also specifically suggested that she choose an angle without backlighting to achieve the best effect!
Her expression was so surprised that the tourist had to remind her: "Relax and smile!"
Hermione hadn't come to her senses until the photo was taken, and she didn't even realize that he put his hand on her shoulder to take the photo.
Draco took the camera and thanked her politely, only then noticing Hermione's strange expression.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a good mood.
"Uh—" Of course she couldn't tell the strange feeling in her heart.
At this moment, she viewed him as just an ordinary friend from the next door college! Or rather, an ordinary partner who fought against Voldemort together! No big deal!
Stop thinking about that Muggle tourist girl's misconception! Think about something else! she advised herself.
"Oh, I noticed it from the moment I met you. I always feel that you don't look like the kind of little wizard who comes from a pure-blood wizard family that is completely cut off from the Muggle world. Think about Ron's family. They have a good impression of the Muggle world, but they are completely out of touch with Muggle society. Mr. Weasley doesn't even know what a rubber duck is." Hermione said, tilting her head to look at him.
He sat calmly in front of her, letting her look at him.
A respectful waiter was serving drinks and food. Hermione paused for a moment, waiting for the waiter to leave before continuing, "And you, on the other hand, are not unfamiliar with the Muggle world, nor do you seem surprised by it. You can even be said to be at ease here. I just learned that your family has collections from the Muggle world. I even think that you understand the Muggle world better than the Weasleys; your family has a closer connection with the Muggle world."
"Very observant." Draco raised his glass and saluted Hermione from a distance.
Hermione smiled slightly in response, but she still waited for him to explain further.
"If you could take a stroll around Malfoy Manor someday, you'd find some traces of Muggle items. Malfoy Manor has electric lights and a driveway. Although in most cases, we think Muggles' things are ridiculous, there are still some things that can be used - the Malfoy family doesn't mind using them." Draco savored the taste of the steak in his mouth and smiled with satisfaction.
"Do you realize how arrogant you sound when you say that?" Hermione said indignantly.
"I thought I was being sincere when I said that." Draco raised his eyebrows. "Do you think it's easy for someone from a pure-blood wizard family to admit to another wizard that they use Muggle items at home?"
Hermione shook her head at him disapprovingly, but deep down she was a little shocked.
The Malfoy family that Draco described seemed to be somewhat different from the Malfoy family she had heard about who "hated everything about Muggles."
"In fact, this short trip is a combination of vacation and investment. The Malfoy family plans to acquire a local perfume factory, and my parents went to negotiate." Seeing that she seemed a little irritable, Draco did not pick up this sensitive topic again, but talked about something else.
In addition to investment, an important reason for acquiring the perfume factory was to make Narcissa happy.
Narcissa was fond of things like perfume—and Lucius was busy encouraging her to further develop her hobbies.
Furthermore, the town of Eze was quiet and pleasant, not as bustling as Paris, making it a perfect place for Narcissa, who was tired of worldly affairs, to stay for a few days and get away from it all. Ever since his grandfather's death, Lucius had often taken his depressed mother out for a walk, even taking her with him on business trips.
Not long ago, when Draco happened to pass by the manor lounge, he overheard his mother complaining to his father, "Can't you just go and talk business by yourself? Like before?"
"No," Lucius said bluntly. "You don't have any other plans for the near future, do you? I see you haven't had a tea party, a book club, or anything like that in ages, nor have you attended any salon gatherings. You've only bought a closet full of new clothes this season, and you haven't even bothered to look at the new limited-edition Muggle sports cars. Madam Zabini even asked me about you the other day; she was wondering why you missed the magical antiques auction last month. That's not like you."
"I want to be home and quiet for a while," Narcissa said, a hint of weariness in her tone. "It's okay. I'm really fine now. Everyone grows old, gets sick, and dies. My father didn't suffer much before he passed away... You don't have to worry about me."
"That's right, I'm not worried about you. But I just happened to come across this investment project and I need your advice, Cissy." Lucius said slickly, with a hint of weakness in his words that surprised Draco. "You have to help me keep an eye on it. Those Muggles are always cunning. Perfume is your specialty, isn't it? You have to help your husband with advice..."
Lucius has always been arrogant and decisive, but there is a time when he needs help and advice from others?
Besides, just happened to come across this project? Father, what was the content of the letter you wrote to the Muggle investment manager earlier?
Draco smiled slightly at the memory. He guessed that his father was probably asking that poor Muggle manager to quickly find some high-quality perfume factories that needed investment or acquisition.
"That perfume factory is entirely Muggle-owned and has nothing to do with the wizarding world at all," he continued to Hermione.
Hermione, who was picking out olives from the side dish with a fork, looked up in surprise when she heard him say this. "You're also involved in investments in the Muggle world?"
Draco shrugged and said meaningfully, "I've said it before, Muggles also have some things that the Malfoys can use. Although my father claims to be a supporter of pure-blood wizards, the Malfoy family's business has never been limited to the wizarding world, and the Malfoy family's vision is the same. Of course, we don't fully understand the Muggle world, but we still have a basic understanding of some of the Muggle world's basic social rules and investment projects."
He glanced at the despised olives inconspicuously, smiled slightly and said, "Of course, please keep these things confidential for me as always. I guess the Ministry of Magic won't like to hear these rumors."
Hermione fiddled with the garnish on her plate and nodded thoughtfully at him.
By evening, they had finished visiting the botanical garden on the top of the mountain, had seen enough of the cacti and shrubs under the scorching sun, and slowly walked down the stone path.
As the summer heat gradually subsided, people who had been hiding in their air-conditioned hotels decided to muster up the courage to come out and take a look. Tourists huddled in front of small grocery stores, buying all kinds of strange and bizarre gadgets.
"What are those?" Draco asked, frowning.
"That's a Muggle refrigerator magnet, the kind you stick on your refrigerator." Hermione picked one up and showed it to him. "There's a picture on the front and a magnet on the back. It sticks to ironwork, like this—"
The small refrigerator magnet moved "whoosh" close to the display iron plate.
"Very strange—" Draco commented, "I have absolutely no idea what it's for."
"It's a kind of souvenir! Every time you pass by the refrigerator, you can see the places you've been through the little refrigerator magnets. Isn't it interesting? Imagine a whole refrigerator door covered with many refrigerator magnets. It would be very fulfilling, like a kind of badge wall proving that you have traveled a lot." Hermione said enthusiastically, "My mother likes to collect these. However, her taste is a bit strange. She has a special liking for refrigerator magnets with strange shapes."
"But what's a fridge?" Draco asked, feeling like a fool.
"Oh, that's a special cabinet for storing food. The temperature inside is very low. The food is refrigerated inside, which is equivalent to casting a preservation spell on the food." Hermione tried to organize her words and explained to him, "However, the storage in the refrigerator has an expiration date. It can't keep the food fresh forever."
After saying this, her eyes kept sliding over the various refrigerator magnets. Unfortunately, she didn't find any "uniquely shaped" options.
Draco was completely bewildered. However, his pride wouldn't allow him to show his weakness or admit that he only knew a little about "Muggle refrigerators."
He didn't like the feeling of "not understanding her world".
With a certain uneasiness in his heart, he walked beside her and said with a sneer, "I don't think there is anything here that is worthy of your taste."
"At least we can give it a try," Hermione continued walking forward, her eyes wandering around the doors of shops on the roadside. "I just want to buy something as a souvenir."
It was at this moment that the strange little shop suddenly appeared in their sight.
It looked much older than the shops next to it, and seemed out of place. A rusty iron sign hung on the mottled door, reading "Boutique de souvenirs" (French for souvenir shop); below the sign was a phoenix perched on a bone—the symbol of the town of Eze.
What struck them as odd was that the shops on both sides were bustling with activity, yet not a single tourist stopped at the door. It was strangely quiet, as if those people couldn't see the shop.
Hermione immediately realized what was happening. She tugged at his shirt, "Draco, this is a shop only wizards can see, right? Like the Leaky Cauldron?"
"I think so." Draco observed for a moment, tightening his jaw cautiously.
"Do you want to go and take a look?" Hermione asked him. She looked curious and cautious, like a cat that stopped in front of a cardboard box. The cat didn't know what was in the box, but was about to go in and take a look.
This expression made Draco smile.
"It's a souvenir shop. Go in and take a look, it shouldn't be anything special." At her urging, Draco identified the shop's sign and name, and became a little curious about this mysterious shop.
Perhaps it would be like Borgin and Burke's, selling all Dark magic items. I wonder, how are the Dark magic items in France different from those in the UK? Draco thought with interest.
"Let's go and take a look." He made up his mind and walked straight forward. Hermione followed closely behind him and saw him suddenly push open the door of the shop amidst the sound of wind chimes.
Draco immediately lost half of his interest in the store.
It's not a black magic shop, but a very ordinary magic souvenir shop. Various kinds of crystal stones, pendulums, magic books, tarot cards and magic essential oils can be found in this shop.
Bottles and jars were stacked on a long table, and in the corners were several large shelves of magical herbs. It wasn't very organized, and most of the place looked messy, a bit like a Divination classroom—Draco immediately lost interest.
The walls of the house were shades of green, which didn't remind Draco of the calm and steady Slytherin green. Instead, it reminded him of the hot and humid tropical jungle. The colors of the various furnishings were too bright, giving off a strong gypsy vibe.
Behind the dark counter sat a listless old witch. Her face was powdered white, yet this didn't diminish her wrinkles. Her mouth was bloodshot, and she was mumbling something under her breath. She absentmindedly polished a rusty singing bowl. When she heard someone enter, she said, "Bienvenue" (French for "welcome") without even raising her eyelids.
The tone sounded like he didn't want to be disturbed by the guests.
Draco resented this attitude. He never liked being treated so casually by strangers. He didn't show any anger on his face, and he didn't storm out like he usually would—all because Hermione was still looking around the shop with great interest.
She didn't seem to care about the witch's attitude. She looked around and walked to the pile of magic books first.
Typical Hermione Granger shopping behavior - he knew this would happen - always go to the books first. Draco shook his head helplessly and stared after her.
"Look!" She suddenly turned around and pointed to a thick, dusty book on a corner shelf. On the cover was the phoenix and bone logo. "That logo!"
Draco smiled at her, put his hands in his pockets, leaned casually against a pillar, and said "hmm" lazily.
"What does the picture on the cover mean?" Hermione asked the witch, holding up the book.
The witch behind the counter finally looked them in the eye, and when she saw that Hermione was interested in the book, rather than just looking at it and leaving, she became much more enthusiastic.
"Oh, this is the symbol of the town of Eze, the origin of local magic." She grinned at them and spoke in broken English. "The earliest wizards can be traced back to 2,500 years ago. They migrated from Egypt and settled here... They brought their own magical culture and magic worship, the most famous of which is the magic of resurrection."
"But, this is impossible!" Hermione showed a look of shock. "How can someone come back to life from the dead, even if they are wizards..."
"Of course, of course, most people think it's just a legend. But it's all written in detail in that book! If you are interested, you can buy it and study it yourself." The witch tempted Hermione with a cunning smile on her face.
At this time, she finally came out from behind the counter, her long skirt swaying, and the big bracelets on her wrists rustling as she moved.
Draco shot the mysterious witch an impatient glance.
Then, he suddenly took two steps, blocking Hermione and the witch, and said slowly, "Hermione, let's go, there's nothing to see."
Hermione didn't move. She flipped through a few pages of the yellowed old book and decided to buy it.
The witch was delighted. She took the book from Hermione through Draco, returned to the counter, deftly wrapped the book in a piece of brown paper, tied it with a piece of twine, and handed it to Hermione.
She said politely, "You won't be disappointed. This is the last one in the store."
Draco rushed ahead of Hermione and threw a few gold coins to the witch. Then, under Hermione's puzzled eyes, he pulled her roughly and quickly walked out of the store and returned to the bustling crowd of tourists.
The streets were covered with the afterglow of the setting sun, and some shops had already turned on their lights.
Hermione was a little angry. She stopped, shook off his hand, and said sternly, "Draco, what are you doing? Why are you in such a hurry? And besides, I can buy it myself!"
"Oh, come on, you little fool!" Draco said with a frown. "Don't tell me you didn't notice."
"Found what?" Hermione asked confusedly.
"That witch has no feet under her skirt! She's a ghost!" Draco said palely. "Don't expect all the ghosts in the world to be as friendly as the ghosts at Hogwarts."
"Oh, I didn't notice—" Hermione was startled. When she looked back at the shop, it had disappeared, leaving only a wall.
It was indeed strange. She froze in her tracks and whispered, "I should have noticed... I was too engrossed in that book."
Draco looked at the wall, a flicker of doubt in his mind.
Like Britain, France also has wizards. They have their own Ministry of Magic, wizarding colonies, and wizarding business centers. Just like London has Diagon Alley, Paris has its own shopping streets for wizards to go to and buy their wares.
Occasionally, there would be magic shops like these in smaller towns. But they were often clustered together, like in Hogsmeade. It was unusual for a solitary magic shop like today's to appear and then suddenly disappear in a small town.
"She probably means no harm. She's probably just a ghost selling groceries." He looked at Hermione's uneasy expression and couldn't bear to say anything more. He just cast a worried look at the book: "In short, you have to be careful with that book. Don't let it be like the diary before, hiding some messed up things in it."
"Then let me open it and take a look." She hurriedly opened the kraft paper and checked it carefully over and over again with Draco.
Apart from being a little old, this book is no different from any other book.
Draco frowned, doubtfully handing the book back to her.
"Don't look at it rashly. When you can perform magic, test it with 'Aparecium' and 'Specialis Revelio' to see if there are any hidden spells or curses," he instructed her.
"Okay, okay, I'll be careful." Hermione put away the book, carefully avoiding touching his hand, and smiled at him sheepishly, "I misunderstood you and yelled at you just now. I'm sorry."
Draco shook his head at her, indicating that he didn't care, but his brows furrowed again.
After meeting Hermione this time, he always felt that she was less familiar with him, more polite, and even gave him a subtle sense of strangeness.
She always seemed to avoid meeting his gaze. She always seemed to dodge his approach.
"I think I should take another look at the refrigerator magnets..." She put away the book, said softly, and walked towards the stalls again.
Draco looked at her suspiciously as she walked ahead of him. She observed everything around her with a lively expression, occasionally sighing softly at the Muggle things around her. Her heartless eyes saw the bustling world, but not him.
How come she lost interest in him so quickly?
Just one summer vacation?
Did she close the door again?
In this small town filled with the fragrance of flowers, voices of people, and lights, Draco Malfoy met Hermione Granger by chance, and also encountered the troubles that a fourteen-year-old boy should have.
Extra 7: Heart-to-heart talk with the Granger family (from the Granger family's perspective)
That was the day Mrs. Granger picked up her baby daughter from King's Cross Station.
On the way back in the car, she couldn't wait to look back from the passenger seat, her eyes sparkling with excitement:
"Hurry up and tell me everything that happened in Hogwarts! Is there anything fun, thrilling, or exciting? My little peanut, you should write to me more often, and don't always report good news but not bad news——"
"Yes, we are very curious about everything that happened to you at school." Mr. Granger glanced at his daughter quickly through the rearview mirror and smiled as he drove.
"This year has been quite uneventful," Hermione said lightly, stroking Crookshanks' fur. She paused for a moment, then said, "Except for Crookshanks killing a mouse and our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher being a werewolf...there doesn't seem to be anything special."
Hermione never liked to tell her parents about dangerous things.
The Grangers were unusually open-minded parents, but that didn't mean they didn't worry about their daughter.
"Werewolf? Is he dangerous...that werewolf?" As expected, Mr. Granger got to the point right away.
Even Crookshanks heard the nervousness in his tone and glanced up at him anxiously.
"It doesn't matter, he's already resigned." Hermione patted Crookshanks' head and said listlessly.
"Oh, Peanut, I feel like something's wrong with you." Mrs. Granger looked her over. "Are you having any trouble?"
"Is anyone bullying you?" Mr. Granger's voice suddenly rose.
"I'm not really worried about anyone bullying her. I remember there was a young gentleman who took good care of her," Mrs. Granger said with a smile. "I saw him just now, wearing a white shirt, with such a straight little figure. Tsk! When we got off the train, he kept staring at you..."
"Oh, Mom, please stop talking like that," she said vexedly.
"I thought he might like you..." Mrs. Granger gave her daughter a sly look.
"Mom, you're wrong. He said he treated me like a sister." Hermione said straightening up, trying to make her voice sound less frustrated.
There was an awkward silence.
"Oh, I see." Mrs. Granger secretly exchanged a glance with Mr. Granger.
The car stopped at a red light ahead, and Mr. Granger seized the moment to glance back at his daughter, who was picking at her finger unconsciously.
My daughter only does this when she is extremely anxious.
"Don't think too much, let's go eat something delicious! How about some lobster? Then, go see the mummies in the British Museum? I remember you are interested in Egypt-" Mr. Granger quickly changed the subject.
"Really? Mummy? I've wanted to see it for a long time!" Hermione finally smiled, which made the couple in the front seat of the car breathe a sigh of relief.
However, when it was evening and everything was quiet, Hermione fell into a depressed mood again.
She was staring at the ceiling, and didn't notice when Mrs. Granger slipped into her room until she saw her mother's sudden smile and shining eyes.
"Mom!" She was almost frightened and almost jumped out of the bed.
"Don't panic, it's me! Tonight is a mother-daughter chat night." Mrs. Granger placed the candlestick in her hand on the bedside, crawled into Hermione's bed, and hugged her gently. "My little peanut, is there anything you can't tell your mother? Tell me about that boy...what's going on?"
"Mom, I don't want to talk about him." In her mother's arms, Hermione finally felt a sense of security. She hesitated for a moment and muttered, "I'm so embarrassed, I completely misunderstood... I feel so ashamed..."
"I won't laugh at you! Have you forgotten how many embarrassing stories I've told you about me?" Mrs. Granger said lively, her brown eyes, exactly the same as Hermione's, sparkling with tenderness.
"It's a lot, but my situation is more serious than those..." Hermione whispered.
"Really? The coldest year ever, your dad and I went to New York. We stayed up late at night, ran out of the hotel, and kissed the Statue of Liberty. We almost froze our tongues," she said lively. "Could it be more embarrassing than that?"
Her daughter said seriously, "It's even more embarrassing than this."
"So, booking the wrong flight for your anniversary, spending a week in transit, and ultimately spending two weeks surviving in the South American wilderness with your dad—" she asked skeptically, "is it more embarrassing than this?"
Hermione pondered this for a long time before finally saying, "It's even more embarrassing."
"I jumped barefoot into the Thames to make a bet with your father. I got pneumonia and was bedridden for a month, using up all the tissues in the surrounding shops," Mrs. Granger complained. "Isn't this embarrassing enough? All my friends are laughing at me."
"Okay." Hermione pondered for a moment and finally said.
So she opened up: how one day she felt inexplicable emotions towards Draco, even thinking she had a cold or was sick, and that she had taken several potions but none of them worked; how Draco treated her, the forehead kiss he had forgotten, all those touches, care, and thoughtfulness; and when Draco said he treated her like a sister, she punched him...
"She's my daughter indeed!" Mrs. Granger said proudly, her eyes shining, and she stroked her daughter's hair like Hermione stroked Crookshanks's.
"But, just a few hours after I beat him up, he stood in front of a werewolf and saved me... How can I still be angry with him? It makes me not know what to do..." Hermione said gloomily.
Mrs. Granger asked in surprise, "He did that? Wait—didn't you say the werewolf wasn't dangerous?"
"It was an accident. Professor Lupin forgot to take his medicine that day. Don't worry, Mum, none of us were hurt. Later, I saved Draco... This involved some advanced magic, which is difficult to explain to you. Anyway, we were all saved." Hermione buried her head under the soft goose feather pillow irritably. "What should I do? I don't know how to get along with him anymore."
"Oh, my little peanut! Boys are all idiots, no matter how mature he looks or how polite he is, they are still stupid!" Mrs. Granger shook her head and smiled knowingly.
A muffled sigh escaped from the pillow.
"From your description, I think he has feelings for you as well. This is not like the way he treats his sister. He even kissed you on the forehead. You thought you were dreaming, didn't you?" Mrs. Granger raised the corners of her mouth slightly.
"So what? He obviously didn't take it seriously, did he?" Hermione said negatively. "It was just a greeting from a normal friend."
"Of course not! Under what circumstances would a person think that kissing a girl is a dream? If it were you, would your first reaction be that you were dreaming? Unless... he had dreamed of kissing you before... he habitually thought that this was also a dream..." Mrs. Granger chuckled.
"Mom! What you said is a bit out of line!" Hermione's head suddenly popped out from under the pillow, looking at her without blinking, as if considering this possibility.
"Well, I'm overthinking it!" Mrs. Granger waved her hand perfunctorily. "Boys of this age are usually late in maturing emotionally. I don't think he can fully realize his inner feelings. He's a year younger than you, isn't he? You have to give him some time to grow up. Maybe one day he'll suddenly come to his senses..."
"Maybe," said Hermione dully.
Mrs. Granger stroked her hair soothingly and tried to encourage her with a different approach. "Hermione, don't just focus on him. You need to see what other boys are like! How do you know you only like boys like him?"
Hermione pouted and said dissatisfiedly, "Mom! Look at what you said, I didn't keep my eyes on him!"
—He always likes to stare at me. She was a little embarrassed about this and swallowed the words back into her stomach.
"Then go play with Ron and Harry. Aren't they your friends? Don't you have a very good relationship with them?" Mrs. Granger said with a smile.
"Of course I would play with them! They are my friends, but we don't have that kind of love relationship." Hermione retorted shyly.
"Why not try to get along with a boy from an outer house? Make some more friends?" Mrs. Granger continued to ponder. "Aren't there other houses? Ravenclaw, what else? Hufflepuff? Did I say the name correctly?"
"The name is correct. But why should I contact other boys? I don't want to make any more friends!" Hermione said angrily.
"I know you like him. But you have to learn to get along with other boys, not just the boy you like. In the future, whether at work or in life, half of the people you will come into contact with will be men. Their thinking patterns are not exactly the same as those of women. These are all things you need to learn and understand. Contacting different boys and making different friends does not conflict with the fact that you like a certain boy." Mrs. Granger expressed her thoughts.
"Okay, I can try to make a few more friends," Hermione said reluctantly, "but only friends."
Mrs. Granger looked at her still somewhat naive daughter—the lively and innocent little girl who had unknowingly grown into a young woman ready to blossom—and a faint smile appeared on the corner of her mouth. "You never know. Perhaps soon a more outstanding boy will fall in love with you..."
By then, will the boy named Draco realize what he is feeling and even become jealous?
She is so curious.