Chapter 103: Jealousy on the Field
The lights in the auditorium were dimmed, and all light and sight were focused on the center of the court - the team mascot's performance officially began.
The dancing of the Veela heated up the atmosphere in the boxes and stands. Almost all the male creatures at this moment degenerated into show-off gorillas.
Hermione Granger could hardly believe her eyes. Harry was trying to put one leg on the wall of the compartment, and Ron seemed to be standing on his seat and preparing to dive from the diving board.
"What are they doing?" Hermione asked in surprise. She stared at the beautiful creatures flying above the field. "Is it because of those Veela?"
"That's right. They are magical creatures with human appearance, often appearing as beautiful young girls," Ginny said with a curled lip. Hermione could sense a hint of contempt in her tone, "They have a natural 'charm' skill, especially when they dance - you'll find that almost all men can't resist their charm."
Hermione looked at the Veela in surprise. They had light golden hair and skin like moonlight, like fairies.
She suddenly wanted to know what stupid thing the boy behind her would do. When he went upstairs just now, he seemed so calm and indifferent, and he didn't care about anything.
What about now? Faced with such a beautiful temptation like the Veela, would his eyes become as uncontrollable, obsessed and fanatical as Harry and Ron's at this moment? Hermione couldn't help but wonder.
Hermione couldn't control herself a bit. As the atmosphere became more and more heated, this idea gradually fermented into a great temptation, and she couldn't help but pay attention to it.
Even the officials of the Ministry of Magic had given in. They behaved no better than ordinary wizards, but were inevitably fascinated, making some embarrassing noises or performing some strange movements.
She had decided not to look back at him. However, if she glanced at him secretly at this moment, he shouldn't notice, right? All the wizards should be in a state of confusion now, right?
She finally couldn't help it. With a sense of curiosity, she turned her head furtively, but suddenly met a pair of eyes staring at her, still calm, indifferent, and restrained.
The grey eyes flashed a smile at her, as if to say: I got you.
Hermione opened her eyes wide in surprise, a trace of panic flashed through her heart. She turned her head back abruptly and hurried to accompany Ginny to rescue Harry and Ron who were doing something stupid, as if being busy could cover up the fact that she was peeking at him.
"Oh, why are you like this!" Her face flushed, she smacked her lips loudly and said to the two silly boys.
Draco, how does he do that? she wondered in amazement.
However, she couldn't turn around and ask him. She had just been embarrassed enough - he had caught her peeking at him. Straightening herself up again, Hermione felt the back of her head burning.
Draco was finally satisfied. After all, she still looked at him, and at the moment when the veela came on the scene, as if she wanted to catch him with something.
A mean girl! He had no doubt that she wanted to see his reaction.
She was destined to be disappointed. He stared at the back of her motionless head, his mood suddenly brightened, and he smiled slightly.
Next, the leprechaun's gold coins also brought a wave of surprise and excitement to the people in the boxes and stands. After the mascots' performance, the game got down to business: the Bulgarian Quidditch National Team took the stage.
When Seeker Krum came on stage, the loudest cheers from the audience were heard.
Draco finally broke his gaze from Hermione and looked at Viktor Krum, a thin, dark-skinned man with a sallow complexion, a large hooked nose, and thick, bushy eyebrows, looking like a gigantic eagle.
If Draco's memory deceived him, the game would have ended with Krum catching the Snitch, but Bulgaria had not won.
Draco has mixed feelings towards this international star whom he once admired.
On the one hand, Krum was extremely talented. As a fellow Seeker, Draco admired his skills immensely. The Wronski feint he used to rescue Harry from a group of Dementors last year was learned from Krum during this World Cup.
On the other hand, Krum will be coming to Hogwarts this year to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, which will surely stir up a series of ripples in the tranquil Black Lake. Speaking of which, it seems that Harry will also be surrounded by a lot of trouble this year... Draco's eyes flickered, and his thoughts inevitably drifted away again.
"10-0, Ireland is leading!" Bagman roared in a loud voice, and the whole audience cheered and shook the stadium.
The girl in front of him jumped up and down with the Weasleys in the front row, waving her arms non-stop. Draco stared at her back and couldn't help but recall his own passionate time in the box in his past life. Back then, he had also sat in the same seat as now, cheering wildly, excited and delighted by every wonderful goal.
Yet, in this life, the throngs of people in this vast stadium felt like a different world. Many moments when players scored—just like in his past life—would make him wonder what day it was.
It was difficult for him to get much excitement from this game, but rather a growing sense of fatigue and emptiness.
The bustling scene created by a hundred thousand spectators did not even feel as real to him as the excitement of the girl in front of him.
He spent most of his time staring at the back of her head, though he no longer caught her glancing back at him. She seemed absorbed in watching the game through her binoculars.
The match was undoubtedly intense. The intensity wasn't just in the air, but also on the ground, where serious clashes broke out between leprechauns and veela.
Finally, in the chaos and noise, Krum was hit by a Bludger - blood was pouring down his face - but he still managed to keep pace with his opponent Lin Qi and snatch the Golden Snitch.
It's just the same ending as always, Draco thought lazily. The Irish fans cheered loudly. Their team had won: although Krum had caught the Snitch, Ireland had a score ten points higher than Bulgaria.
The result of "Ireland won" made Bagman, who was in charge of commentary, feel a little dizzy and bewildered. As he stammered and announced the result of the game, he seemed about to faint.
Even watching the same scene for the second time, Draco still had respect for Krum. Few could match his ability to grab the Snitch despite being injured and outclassed.
He thought back to Krum's movements in the air. He had flown into the air as if it were his home, as if he hadn't even been on a broomstick – he was as light as a flag in the wind.
"He's turned Quidditch into a fluid art form," he heard the Ministry members nearby exclaim.
It seems that few wizards can resist such charm - even a little witch like Hermione who is afraid of flying is no exception.
"He's very brave, isn't he?" Draco saw her leaning forward to look intently at Krum on the field, and he said sympathetically to the red-haired kid, "He looks so miserable..."
Draco's mood suddenly turned sour. The last bit of joy from the Quidditch World Cup faded away, and the melancholy from the holidays resurfaced, weighing heavily on his heart.
His face slowly hardened, and when he remembered that she said he was "an ordinary friend from the next door college", his expression became even colder.
After the match, Draco didn't linger. He wasn't in the mood for small talk. At that moment, his heart felt like a sizzling steak, a small flame of jealousy ignited. It seared him strangely, sizzling inside him.
"Xiaolong, are you okay? Why do you look a little listless?" Narcissa asked on the way back to their tent.
"I'm a little tired." He said, standing in front of his tent, looking at the crowd gradually spreading from the venue to the camp with an unfathomable expression.
"We're going to a banquet to discuss some cooperative projects with the Bulgarian Minister of Magic," Lucius said. "Since you're tired, rest early and don't run around."
Draco nodded. He agreed with his mouth, but in his heart he didn't want to sleep at all.
After watching his parents walk out of the tent, he stood alone at the entrance of the tent, looking out silently.
The camp gradually became very lively. Rough singing could be heard in the night sky, leprechauns flew across the people's heads, waving their lanterns and laughing happily; the wizards supporting the Irish team sang and danced, toasting their glasses, still celebrating the victory.
Amidst the clamor, Draco felt a strange loneliness. He was feeling down tonight, having been tortured all day by her cold description of him as "an ordinary friend from the next door college." Now, his control over his emotions was finally at its breaking point.
He may have been infected by some of the girl's willful temperament.
He suddenly didn't want to go back to the gorgeous but deserted tent, nor did he want to lie down at this moment and enter a dream that was destined to be filled with panic and anxiety.
Maybe he should go for a walk. Walk aimlessly. Walk without stopping.
However, his legs and feet moved straight in one direction without his control.
When he came to his senses, he found that he had walked to the woods at the end of the field.
There were two crooked tents in the corner. The trees were silent and the night was peaceful. Hermione, wearing a pink short-sleeved top and Muggle jeans, was fiddling with a large kettle in front of the fire in front of the tent.
The moment he saw her, the emptiness in Draco's heart was filled; however, the jealousy still burned quietly.
"Isn't there even a stove in this tent?" He frowned and looked at the campfire.
"Draco?" Hermione turned around. She was a little surprised to see him and smiled at him. "Mr. Weasley said we had to respect Muggle safety regulations, so we had the fire outdoors."
As she spoke, she opened the lid of the kettle and took a look - it was empty - she sighed regretfully and planned to go to the other end of the venue to get some water.
"They don't even give you water to drink?" Draco glanced at the kettle and couldn't help but sneer.
"Why do you talk like that? Mr. Weasley and his family take very good care of me..." said Hermione.
His sarcastic tone was unfamiliar, and this unfamiliar tone turned the subtle surprise in her heart into a mild surprise. She didn't continue to look at him, afraid of being dazzled by his shiny platinum hair. She just took the kettle and walked out. "We just drank all the water! Ginny just spilled the last cup of hot chocolate..."
"Speaking of which, why is that red-haired brat still pestering you?" Draco followed her unwillingly and asked sharply.
"Don't call her a brat. She has a name, Ginny. Didn't you and Harry rescue her in the second year?" Hermione said unnaturally, "She... is a nice person."
Apart from the fact that she always teased her about Draco, Ginny was actually quite nice to her.
Draco wanted to move closer to her and bring the kettle over to help her carry it, but she stepped back defensively.
"Oh, I can do it myself," she said, a little nervously.
This action stung Draco. He observed her expression - very stubborn; and a little distant.
So he lost his temper and did not insist. He walked beside her sullenly, like a hungry puppy begging for food, pitiful and angry.
"I think you two are as close as sisters. It's only been a few days! It's terrible." He felt that she was too quiet, so he picked up the previous topic again in an arrogant tone, trying to get her to say something - even if it was a rebuttal.
"Draco, what's wrong with you? Why are you being so sarcastic today? Who offended you?" Hermione stopped, turned to look at him, and finally realized that something was wrong with him.
He seemed a little uneasy today, even a little nervous; not at all the calm and composed look he had in the box at the stadium, she thought puzzledly.
"No one messes with me." Draco kicked the pebble in front of him, his eyes following the pebble away, not daring to look at her, and muttered.
"When I was at the Burrow, I lived in the same room with her, so of course we had a good relationship." Hermione looked at him again and explained in a rare good temper.
In the moonlight, his angular profile showed a hint of inexplicable melancholy, which made her a little at a loss, and it was difficult for her to get angry at his sarcastic attitude at the moment.
Draco didn't feel happy at all when he heard her explanation. Instead, he snorted in his heart - she was living very happily in the Burrow.
As they talked, they reached the center of the camp. The road here was not wide enough, so they could no longer walk side by side. Instead, they had to walk one after the other through the gradually dense crowd.
Where there are people, accidents often happen. This is especially true at a rare event like tonight, with countless drunks making noises and all kinds of wizards gathered together.
Suddenly, something unexpected happened. A drunken leprechaun charged in front of them, forcing Hermione to step back and nearly trip over her own foot. She let out a short, small sound and was about to fall backward.
When it comes to Hermione Granger, Draco's body's reactions are always more honest than his brain or mouth.
He quickly grasped her waist and used his chest to block her back, preventing her from falling.
For a moment, Hermione's heart began to beat violently.
She didn't know whether the beating of her heart was due to the sudden shock or the heat that spread from his hand to her waist. She suddenly fell into his arms, and he hugged her without hesitation.
This realization made her dizzy and her defenses collapsed.
This was their first physical contact of the day—it seemed ages since he'd held her waist—and the unexpected touch sent a surge of emotion through her.
She shouldn't be like this. He shouldn't be like this either. This was completely beyond her expectations.
Without time to think, she turned around to look at him in panic and found that he was looking at her with concern.
Too close, she thought. He was too close. His delicate, three-dimensional features bombarded her mind, and the pleasant smell of cedar was faintly surrounding her.
"Thank you," she whispered, quickly turning her head to look ahead on the road, her neck stiff.
"You're welcome," he whispered behind her ear. A gust of air from his lips sent a slight warmth to the back of her neck, sending a shiver through her body.
Her trembling body certainly caught Draco's attention - his hands were keenly aware of the subtle changes.
It was hard for him not to notice this change, as her top was so thin and short that a slight lift of her hand revealed a smooth, slender waist. He now held her waist without any obstruction, as if stroking a piece of vivid silk.
For him, this touch was also a sudden shock. The emptiness that had tormented him throughout the holiday was satisfied at this moment. His heart, which was sizzling with fire, was now surging with a spring of pleasure, no longer filled with smoke and miasma.
"Are you cold?" he asked, swallowing, his voice a little restrained.
He couldn't move his hands, unwilling to leave, but also afraid to move.
"No," Hermione said briefly, her voice trembling slightly.
This direct contact made one thing clear to her. She didn't reject his direct touch; instead, she felt a throbbing sensation. Then came a kind of spasmodic feeling, unfamiliar, tense, and mixed with a certain anticipation.
Does this mean anything?
She felt dizzy, and after a great mental struggle, she finally struggled to get up from his arms, leaving his warm hands and continuing to walk forward with her large kettle.
Draco continued to follow her forward, exhaling quietly and secretly clenching his right hand - the hand that had just supported her waist.
He could sense a hint of her unique silky feel lingering on that hand. It felt different from the other hand he'd never touched. He wanted to smell it, and in fact, he did so in secret. He could sense a hint of her fragrance lingering on his hand.
This thought, or rather this private behavior, made him blush quickly.
Fortunately, she didn't notice. She was silent. She also refused to look me in the eye.
She walked in front of him stubbornly, holding the big kettle properly, and still refused to let him help her.
He didn't understand any of her thoughts at the moment. There was no girl more difficult to understand than her.
The road ahead was still full of dangers. There were always drunk people wandering through the crowd, or overly excited and reckless fans.
Draco couldn't let his guard down at all. He could only stay close to her, his arms raised to protect her from the crowd celebrating across the way, like a puppy protecting its food.
He couldn't bear the thought of her getting run over by another drunken wizard, leprechaun, or whatever.
Even though she was stubborn as hell and refused to accept his extra help, at least she didn't refuse his arms around her.
Hermione's heart was boiling. Amidst the clamor and jostling, she would occasionally be pushed into his arms, and he would always catch her. Sometimes he would press his chest against her, sometimes he would grab her arm, and sometimes he would protect her waist.
Every time she was touched, she would experience spasms and tremors. During this short journey, she suddenly developed an irregular heartbeat.
The young man behind her said nothing. She didn't know what he was thinking, nor did she know what kind of mentality he used to protect her.
She didn't even dare to look back at his incredibly alluring face. But just the scent of him was enough to make her drunk. She didn't understand what he was trying to do. When it was all over, when the crowds weren't so crowded, he would automatically let her go, every time.
He probably did all this out of politeness. Perhaps it was out of protection for a little sister, she thought, feeling a lump in her throat. It was true that being an only child and being obsessed with having a sibling was common—didn't she really like Ginny as a little sister?
Finally, they managed to escape from the crowd without any danger and passed through the slightly deserted Bulgarian tent.
Finally, they could maintain a normal distance between friends instead of being as close as two dizzy crabs.
The portrait of Krum on the tent was still eye-catching, and he looked gloomily at the boys and girls passing by him.
"I bet you like Krum very much?" Hermione looked up at Draco lightly, trying to find some common topic to talk about with him.
She had to say something to break the current atmosphere, Hermione thought. She was almost driven crazy by the vague and ambiguous atmosphere in the air, and the way he pursed his lips in silence in the moonlight was mysterious and unpredictable, making it impossible to look away.
She figured it out. She loved his touch. She loved his hands on her skin, just as she loved the feeling of her back against his chest. If she kept thinking this way, it would be hard for her to keep her distance from him.
"You like him?" His voice was as cold as the moonlight tonight, as if he didn't understand Krum's charm at all.
That shouldn't be the case. Draco is a Seeker, so how could he not like the most popular Seeker on the field tonight?
Hermione chose her words carefully, desperate to strike up some light conversation to break the tension. "He—he played very bravely. I think he showed people the charm of Quidditch."
"You like Krum?" Draco tutted, only concerned to confirm the fact. He felt a slight pain in his back teeth.
"Who wouldn't like him? He caught that Snitch so beautifully!" Hermione said as a matter of course.
Draco's gradually swelling happiness was suddenly punctured by these words. His face quickly darkened, and he said in a sharp tone, "Oh - I didn't know you were so superficial, liking those who are famous and have a halo."
"What nonsense are you talking about?" Hermione was surprised by his words. She didn't expect him to interpret her like this, in such a malicious tone. She said fiercely, "He's a superb player. Isn't it normal for people to like him? Harry and Ron like him too! You - are you trying to get at something?"
"Having a romance with a famous player, that's what I mean! Do you dare to say you've never thought about it?" Draco gave her a sour look, and a hint of anger appeared on her rosy cheeks.
"What are you crazy about?" Hermione said angrily, feeling that he was completely unreasonable. "I just admire him! He's an international football star, how could he have any connection with us in real life?"
As Hermione had hoped, the ambiguous atmosphere between them was indeed broken, but it did not make her feel any better. She never wanted to quarrel with him, she just wanted to keep a safe distance from him and not let herself appear too obsessed with him; but unknowingly, they were bickering like two childish ghosts all the way to the water station.
The water intake was no longer bustling as it was during the day. Apart from a few pitch-black tents, it seemed deserted.
——It's a secluded place suitable for quarreling.
"International star?" Draco said shortly, and began to question her aggressively, as if he had to get to the bottom of it today. "What if he intersected with your life? What if he showed up and confessed his feelings to you, would you go on a date with him, have a relationship or something?"
He's totally unreasonable! Hermione thought angrily. Her anger was finally ignited by Draco Malfoy's constant unreasonable provocations that night.
"Yes!" she said sarcastically. "Why not? Maybe he doesn't think I'm young, but instead thinks I'm suitable for dating or even romance!"
In an instant, Draco's face turned pale.
Alright! Now, all those deliberate avoidances and evasions have answers.
It was only natural that he became "an ordinary friend from the next college."
Hermione Granger—that nasty, heartless girl—has a new target: Viktor Krum.
Maybe she has already had a holiday crush on his poster.
Just thinking about this scene was enough to make his stomach turn sour.
What was Draco Malfoy compared to Viktor Krum? Probably nothing. She hadn't seen him in a month, and she hadn't shown any concern for him.
"Very good. Then I won't bother you anymore." He said this abruptly, took a long step, and left her behind.
"Draco!" Hermione called after him. He paused only briefly, then began to walk even faster. He walked with a carefree, unfettered pace, like the most infuriating bad boy in the world.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her expression: a little confused, a little sad.
He was being completely ungraceful, completely ungentlemanly. Draco hated how he was behaving—but if, if he stayed any longer, he wasn't sure if he wouldn't have said something even worse.
Never mind, that's all for today. Feeling distracted and depressed, he walked back to his tent.
The camp was still very noisy, filled with singing and laughter that had nothing to do with him.
But gradually, the singing stopped, replaced by terrible screams; Draco came back to his senses from the burning jealousy and found that people were running away in panic.
In the light of a few still-flaming campfires he saw people running toward the woods, as if from something that was moving toward them from some campsite, something that was flashing strangely and making noises like gunshots.
In a strange green light, Draco saw several blurry figures floating above the camp. In the distance, there were flames and smoke, as if someone's tent had caught fire. Also, masked and hooded figures appeared faintly in the distance, accompanied by sneers and wild laughter.
Hermione! In an instant, he was terrified and ran back. He squeezed madly through the surging crowd, roughly using his arms to push away those who bumped into him.
There were grumbling noises, but he didn't care—he only cared about her.
He was filled with regret. How could he have forgotten what day it was, leaving her there in such a ridiculous state of anger? And now, the way back seemed so long, with so many people crowded around to oppose Draco.
The air was filled with the cries of children, the screams of women, and the curses of men. Screams emanated from the sky overhead, and by the flames on several tents, Draco recognized the Muggle family from the reception area. They were hung upside down in the sky, like pigs waiting to be slaughtered, howling in terror.
Draco hurried back even more anxiously, feeling a deep sense of unease. He finally squeezed through most of the crowd and returned to the water supply. A thin, pink figure was lying on the ground, struggling to stand up.
He rushed over and helped her up, "Are you okay?"
She looked up at him, her face stained with dust. Her eyes were wet, and her voice was tearful. "What are you doing here? You're not... aren't you going to ignore me?"
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you here." Draco looked hurriedly at her knees and elbows, which were covered in mud. He held her arm and asked, "Can you still walk? We have to get out of here quickly."
"I can't move my feet anymore," she said, sniffing. She was wearing very little, and the night wind was a little chilly, so he heard her sneeze slightly.
He sighed, took off his black suit jacket neatly, and put it on her. She looked at him aggrievedly, but did not refuse.
"I'll carry you, come on." Draco squatted down and motioned her to get in. She sobbed and lay on his back, her bare arms wrapped around his neck.
He effortlessly carried her on his back and followed the main group into the depths of the woods. She was light, clinging to him like a feather, almost weightless. He could feel her shivering, not sure if it was from fear or cold.
"Are you still cold?" He tilted his head slightly and asked her softly.
"No, it's very warm." She rested her face on his shoulder and said in a crying voice.
Hermione Granger was terrified. Everything had happened so suddenly. After Draco had left, she was listlessly fetching water when she heard a commotion, growing louder and louder as it approached from a distance.
This felt very wrong. She decided to hurry back with the water bottle in hand. But after only a few steps, someone hurriedly running behind her knocked her down, and she felt a sharp pain in her ankle.
Damn it, she thought. She had her wand with her, but she didn't know how to heal her ankle.
A cloud of despair descended upon her.
Draco, that bastard, was so mean to her! Did he come to her just to say some inexplicable things to piss her off? And then leave her here all alone...
How could she like such an unreasonable bad boy? She struggled in the mud, cursing herself in her heart.
Then, her unreasonable bad boy came back. He looked horrified, his neatly combed hair a little messy, completely lost in the top box of the calm and self-possessed appearance, the moment he saw her, his eyes seemed to flash a glimmer of joy.
He had transformed back into the familiar, considerate, gentle Draco to her, without the sarcasm or bitterness. Like a dream, he lovingly lifted her up, gently carried her on his back, and led her away from the blazing, terrifying scene behind them.
She rested her head on one of his shoulders, closed her eyes, and took in the faint, warm scent of cedar, finding peace within her. It felt so good to be close to him again. He always made her feel safe. His clothes wrapped around her, hiding her vulnerability. It was a great comfort to her bad mood.
His back was much stronger than when he carried her in second grade, and his arms were even stronger than when he carried her a few months ago. His warm hands held her legs tightly, and he carried her for a long time, his breathing still as steady as usual.
"Draco, what happened?" At this moment, his sudden concern made her throat choke, and she couldn't help but ask in his ear with sobs.
"Something terrible has happened. Hooded and masked men have attacked Muggles—the camp manager's family." Draco looked around warily.
Around them, dark figures were stumbling about, and anxious shouts and voices echoed. Behind them, the camp was still making loud noises, and from time to time, an eerie green light was emitted.
"How could they? That family didn't bother anyone, they're innocent people…" Hermione sniffed, she felt that made no sense.
"That was the work of the Death Eaters. They're never reasonable. They enjoy things like this," Draco said calmly. "The tents weren't on fire all at once. I think we need to go deeper in, away from those explosions."
The tents weren't on fire in droves—they were targeted. Draco would have bet his hair that there was a Muggle-born wizarding family beneath every one of those burning tents. The danger Hermione, a Muggle-born, might face was far greater than it appeared.
The girl was sensitive to the unfinished meaning in his words. Her trembling hands clenched the shirt on his chest, leaving many creases on the smooth fabric. She paused, hesitantly asked in a low voice, "Draco, your father and mother, are they both Death Eaters?"
"My father was, my mother wasn't. But they both supported the Dark Lord." His voice was as cold as the night sky. He looked around and decided to continue walking with her on his back.
"Are they one of the hooded and masked men tonight?" She stopped sobbing and asked the question fearfully, but she didn't want to hear the answer.
"Honestly, I don't know," Draco said irritably, tightening his grip.
In his previous life, his parents hadn't directly told him where they'd gone. But tonight, they had an appointment with the Bulgarian Minister for Magic, who had spent the entire night pretending not to speak English, and he figured Lucius and Narcissa probably hadn't had time to bully the Muggles yet.
More and more dark figures gathered in the woods. The rustling of bushes, the snapping of branches, the faint cries of children, and the whispering of voices echoed through the trees.
At this time, getting too close to any strange wizard was fraught with risk. Draco looked around cautiously, trying to find a quiet bush where he could hide his girl.
Sensing his anxiety, Hermione wisely changed the subject, "Draco...why weren't you affected by those Veela tonight?"
"Oh, that," Draco said, a smile finally forming on his face, "I didn't even look at the Veela at that time."
He was looking at her at that time.
"Then why were you so angry with me tonight?" Hermione asked softly, her lips so close to Draco that he could feel her breath on his cheek.
"Nothing," he said quickly. He suddenly realized that the only thing separating him from her was his thin shirt and her even thinner blouse. This made many of the sensations incredibly clear. He could feel a softness on his back, a feeling that made his heart flutter as he moved.
"Don't lie, I know you're worried. Tell me!" she said eagerly, her lips seeming to brush against his earlobe - as if the softness on his back wasn't stimulating enough.
He was breathless because of her action and almost tripped over the tree roots under his feet. The girl who lit the fire was unaware of the effect she had caused. She thought that his vision was blurred and quickly took out her wand from her pocket and used the narrow beam of light created by Lumos to help him illuminate the bumpy path.
"What silly thoughts... I kind of mind that you chose to go to Ron's house instead of accepting my invitation... I know it's wrong to think this way..." Draco was depressed for a long time and could only come up with this excuse to deal with her.
He couldn't be angry because she liked Krum, could he? Before Krum arrived at Hogwarts as a Durmstrang student, this reason was completely inexplicable and untenable.
In addition, now his brain was like a mess and he couldn't think because of certain tactile sensations.
"You idiot! If you really care so much, invite me early next time instead of waiting until the last minute..." Hermione leaned over to his ear and said angrily and amusedly.
"Okay," Draco agreed, feeling a surge of happiness in his heart.
"Wait, just for such a small thing, you left me there?" Hermione's tone suddenly became extremely angry.
"Sorry." He said guiltily, not daring to look back at her, just keeping walking forward.
Looking back now, he also felt that he had gone too far.
"Draco Malfoy! Never leave me like this again! Never!" She gritted her teeth in his ear. "It feels awful to be left alone... I hate it!"
"Okay." He answered her softly and firmly, "I promise, I won't do it again.