Chapter 105: The Tenderness Hidden on the Back
Even though the officials of the Ministry of Magic came up with an explanation that was close to being reasonable, the angry Mr. Crouch still didn't have the patience to understand Winky's innocence.
Hermione felt somewhat disillusioned. How could Mr. Crouch give up on Winky so indiscriminately?
During the whole day of singing and dancing, under the guidance of Mr. Weasley, she got to know various Ministry of Magic officials. Some of them were easy-going, some were humorous, and even if they had serious faces, they maintained a minimum of fairness and responsibility.
Mr. Crouch—the object of Percy's constant admiration—should have been a highly respected official, but he was far more extreme than she had expected.
He was so busy being angry at Winky for "not obeying his master's orders and leaving the tent without permission" that he rudely ignored the fact that the terrifying scene tonight would frighten the house-elf who was afraid of heights.
He cruelly decided to give Winky the "severest punishment"—clothes. The poor house-elf burst into tears, unable to accept the horrible fate that had suddenly befallen her. Mr. Crouch, on the other hand, took a step back in disgust, freeing himself from the elf's clutches as if he were avoiding something dirty.
"How could this happen?" She whispered to Draco indignantly, "How could he be so cruel to Winky? Should we do something?"
But he shook his head and whispered to her, "Hermione, there's nothing we can do. We can't change the mind of someone who has made up their mind. After all, this is an internal matter of the Crouch family - even the officials of the Ministry of Magic can't say anything about it."
Hermione looked around and saw that he was right.
No officials stepped forward to dissuade them. They were busy taking over everything, busy sealing off the scene, and looking for any clues that could help them find the person who released the Dark Mark.
"I don't think there's anything left for these children," said Mr. Diggory kindly. "Arthur, take them back."
Arthur Weasley felt as if he had been pardoned when he heard this. He also planned to get these children out of the woods as soon as possible. This was no joke, not a situation they should be facing at their age.
At this moment, Arthur looked at the Malfoy boy standing over there, and hesitated in his heart. The boy stood quietly by the side from beginning to end, with an attitude as arrogant as his annoying father.
Arthur noticed that he watched the chaos around him coldly, and was too lazy to say a word to anyone - whether it was malicious criticism or well-intentioned inquiries - he was completely an arrogant and proud young master, out of tune with the weeds and bushes around him.
The only difference between him and his father might be that Lucius Malfoy, the arrogant advocate of pure-bloodism, would not be obediently protected by a Muggle-born girl, and the two of them were so close to each other, holding hands.
Even at this moment, this boy with a noble face was tilting his head, naturally moving close to the girl, and picking off a few blades of grass stuck in her hair; the girl looked up at him, whispered something to him, and didn't care about his action of picking blades of grass, as if she was accustomed to this kind of close contact with him.
To be honest, this scene was something Arthur had never heard of or seen before.
He had never imagined that a Muggle-born girl could be taken seriously by a Malfoy – any Malfoy – until today.
If Lucius, that pure-blood-obsessed madman, saw this scene, would he still be able to save his dignity? A strange thought arose in Arthur's mind.
He even had an even stranger idea: perhaps the boy was different from his father.
However, based on the historical understanding that "a Malfoy never had a good face towards a Weasley", Arthur still looked a little hesitant when he walked over to ask Draco: "You... come with us and leave here, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you," Draco said calmly, plucking the last blade of grass from Hermione's head and nodding slightly to Mr. Weasley.
He still remembered that when he was questioned by Barty Crouch, Mr. Weasley had spoken up for him.
Arthur Weasley, although he doesn't get along with his father Lucius, is considered a good person.
Thus, in the hour when the dew was heavy, they left the gleaming pleas and cries behind them, and hurried out of the clearing, and made their way through the woodland.
Mr. Weasley led the way, asking Ron and Harry in detail what had just happened; Draco followed silently behind them, keeping a certain distance.
He continued to carry Hermione. Although she blushed and refused twice, he insisted, "Your ankle needs to rest. Or, would you rather someone else carry you?"
"That's not the case," she muttered, looking furtively at him.
She had interacted with him enough tonight, so much so that she had become somewhat accustomed to it.
Is this a good thing or a bad thing? He wants to satisfy his "brother" addiction, so he is so intimate with her, right? While she enjoys his special treatment, she feels bitter in her heart.
"Take it as my thanks for being brave enough to stand up and speak for me," he said briskly, smiling at her.
This wasn't the first time Hermione had spoken up in his defense. He still remembered how she had argued with Hufflepuff students in the library during their second year simply because they had said he wasn't "worthy of the title" of Seeker.
From that moment on, she meant something special to him. She was no longer just the girl in his past life's memory, but had been given a new meaning.
She was protecting him! She was protecting him so passionately and selflessly. He thought about it and walked steadily, not being left behind by the people in front of him because he was carrying an extra person.
This feeling of being protected by her was a joy he had never experienced in his previous life. In the past, only his father and mother would protect him, and that was out of the bond of blood ties; now with Hermione Granger, this feeling was very new and warmed his heart.
He's a brave little girl.
Draco couldn't imagine how such immense energy could burst forth from her slender frame. She dared to confront the Director of International Cooperation and the former Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, yet she was no less imposing than him.
She was a good girl. He even felt a surge of pride.
She gave him a good sigh of relief - when he was mentally depressed, when he was maliciously misunderstood, and when he was wronged and speechless.
He was completely powerless to resist. Whether it was the external accusations or the internal turmoil, it almost broke him. He was afraid, afraid of a fate that could not be corrected, afraid of repeating the same mistakes, afraid of being doomed again.
Being born into a family is a sin, and this is an unchangeable fact. He is the son of a former Death Eater, and he might become a Death Eater in the future. This is such a natural direction.
But she never believed in evil or origin. She was willing to defend those who were despised - to defend him.
She had some idealism in her, which always made him sigh and even attracted to her involuntarily.
"What's going to happen to Winky?" Hermione asked him as soon as they left the clearing.
"I don't know," Draco said.
"I don't like how they treat Winky," she said stubbornly. "Whether it's the staff or Mr. Crouch, they don't treat her like a human being at all!"
"Yes," said Draco. "Wizards have always been like that, especially those from old pure-blood families. They don't think house-elves have feelings."
"That's what I'm sad about - I feel sad for Winky." At this moment, Hermione gently rested her head on the back of his neck, and a few strands of hair fell on his neck, bringing a little tickle.
"Hmm," he agreed patiently, listening to her continue expressing her views.
"She's obviously afraid of heights, but Mr. Crouch still sent her to the top box so high up to reserve a seat for him. Tonight, those masked men hung Muggles in the sky, who wouldn't be scared? It's understandable that she wanted to escape from them! But Mr. Crouch was furious because she disobeyed orders and escaped from the tent... It's unreasonable!" she said angrily.
"Crouch is in a high position and many eyes are on him. He cannot bear the responsibility if his house-elf runs around with a wand and does evil things. You know, this violates the third rule of the "Wand Use Rules": No non-human creature may carry or use a wand." Draco reminded her slowly.
"But Mr. Crouch knew she didn't do it, but he still fired her! He didn't care how scared or sad she was - that condescending attitude... he didn't care whether she lived or died!" Hermione was a little angry.
"Yeah. I don't like Crouch either. He's too aggressive," Draco said calmly. "But perhaps you've realized over the years that in the eyes of some wizards, even humans are divided into different levels, let alone non-human species."
Hermione paused.
Her anger was completely quenched by these words. Just now, she was only angry about the superficial injustice and had not had the chance to calm down and think about the deeper meaning behind it.
Yes. It's not just the house-elves who are treated unfairly.
She lay on his back in silence for a while, and finally asked in a low voice: "What about you? Draco, do you also have different levels of status in your eyes? I am a Muggle-born wizard. Do you think I am inferior to others like those pure-blood wizards and look down on me because of this?"
"What about you? Will you look down on me just because I'm the son of a former Death Eater?" Draco asked her back, a hint of bitterness in his tone.
"Of course not! It's not your fault!" said Hermione eagerly. "I know what kind of person you are—"
"Then I'll return it to you exactly as it was. I have the same idea." Draco walked forward steadily. He heard Hermione laugh softly and happily in his ear.
Then he smiled, and the bitterness in his heart dissipated a little. He tightened his hands, fixing her more firmly on his back.
Draco could sense that Hermione was furious about Winky's treatment. He knew from the outset that the issue of house-elves' rights would be a powerful spark that would ignite her inner powder keg.
He admitted that in his previous life, he would have believed that it was only natural for a master to punish a house-elf. House-elves who disobeyed their master's wishes and failed to uphold their master's reputation must be severely punished; otherwise, every servant would disobey their master's orders, and chaos would reign.
Only by enforcing orders and disciplining people can a well-organized manor be managed - at least that's what Narcissa did.
No one considers the rights or emotions of house-elves. In pure-blood wizarding families, they have never been treated fairly or as human beings by their masters. Gradually, the descendants of wizards who have been influenced by this will also come to believe that house-elves are born to be treated roughly and unfairly.
However, Draco had seen Dobby break into Malfoy Manor and rescue Harry and his two companions in his previous life.
At that moment, he seemed to understand something of what she insisted on.
He was extremely grateful to Dobby. He was grateful that it had human emotions and a free soul, and could do things that he dared not do.
Fortunately, fortunately...
If it was a moment later, he didn't know whether Hermione could withstand Bellatrix's heart-wrenching pain...
If it had been a moment later, he didn't know whether she would have been destroyed and become a permanent resident of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, or be bitten to death by that filthy werewolf Greyback and step directly into the gates of death.
The thought of this made him breathless.
Don't think about it! She's on your back, she'll be fine, Draco tightened his grip and tried to comfort himself.
Then think of the house-elves she sympathized with.
Draco still hasn't figured out one thing: what is the correct attitude towards house-elves.
He had tried to make some small changes. As for Dobby, because he had saved her, he was willing to try to be more patient with him, reward him, and even give him a raise.
But the elves in other wizards' homes were beyond his control with his current abilities.
"Am I heavy?" she suddenly asked him, "Are you tired?"
"It's very light. Not tiring." He smiled gently.
"Draco, that Dark Mark—" Hermione unconsciously rubbed his shoulder and said slowly, "Who put it there? Was it a Death Eater?"
"Yes." After a pause, Draco tried to remain calm. "Only Death Eaters know how to cast it. Whoever created the Mark must have been a Death Eater in the past, though not necessarily now."
"Why conjure it tonight?" said Hermione. "Just to scare Muggle-borns?"
"I don't know." Draco's throat was dry. "But I imagine those former Death Eaters were terrified, too. Did you notice that when the Dark Mark appeared, the hooded figures disappeared? No more screaming, no more wailing, no more tents damaged. Those people were scared away by the Mark – I guess they Apparated."
"It seems so. It's been a terrible night," she whispered. "Whether it's what those people did to the caretaker's family, or that mark in the sky, or the wizards' rude attitude towards the house-elves..."
"I understand. It's terrible. I'm just thankful you weren't hurt." He paused, then said, "I'm always worried about you."
"I was worried about you... You were almost wronged by Mr. Crouch..." Hermione said drowsily. After experiencing a series of intense emotional fluctuations, she finally felt tired.
"Thank you." He said softly, "I didn't expect you to jump out to defend me, thank you."
"Of course I will defend you... I always will..." She yawned into his ear, "Oh, you smell so nice."
"Do you like it?" There was a smile in his voice. "It's produced by the French perfume factory I mentioned last time."
"Hmm..." She responded to him lazily, "It smells good, I like it... on your... body..." She lay on his warm back, sniffing the scent of cedar, feeling comfortable and cozy, and her head gradually filled with a pleasant vacuum.
The clothes draped over her back seemed to be his as well. She was completely enveloped by his scent.
Sighing contentedly, she nuzzled his neck, hugged him tighter with her arms, and gradually fell silent.
If Draco had a tail, it would be wagging happily by now. At this moment, all the melancholy that had grown during the holiday was swept away.
She didn't ignore him, nor did she avoid him. She stood in front of him, protecting him, defending him. She relied on him as always, even trusting him enough to fall asleep on his shoulder.
She was held in his hand, lying softly on his back. This silly girl, she was actually worried that he was tired. She was the sweetest burden any boy in the world could desire, how could she be tired?
As he walked, he even felt that if this road had no end, he could keep walking forever.
He could hear her even breathing, like a feather, sweeping back and forth across his eardrum... She must have been very tired after a long and tiring night, he thought with pity.
Realizing this, Draco quickened his pace. He made his way past the group of anxious-looking wizards and quickly returned to her tent. Harry and Ron were standing sleepily at the door of their tent, waiting for them.
"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked, yawning.
"Asleep." Draco whispered, "You guys go to bed, I'll take her back."
"Oh, next door." Ron pointed to the side and said lazily, "Then let's first--"
"Yeah, good night." Draco said softly, raised his chin to them in a good mood, and walked quickly to the tent next to him.
The red-haired kid stood at the entrance of the tent. He stopped in front of her and asked briefly, "Where is her bed?"
Ginny Weasley was transfixed. She raised her stiff hand, bewildered, and pointed somewhere in the tent.
She could hardly believe her eyes - that wicked young master of the Malfoy family actually carried Hermione back to her room without complaint.
How is this possible? Something must have gone wrong, Ginny thought in amazement.
Although she often teased Hermione on the surface, Ginny was always suspicious of Draco Malfoy in her heart.
It's no wonder she's suspicious; he's not a kind person. There are always rumors going around Hogwarts: if anyone dares to provoke him, he'll give you a cold smile on the spot; a few days later, you'll be inexplicably in trouble.
You will never have proof of what he did, but everyone knows who you provoked.
There were only a handful of people in Gryffindor who were friends with Malfoy. Perhaps only Hermione, with some inexplicable confidence, firmly believed that this Slytherin was a kind boy; Harry, for some reason, was always willing to greet him; and his brother Ron would occasionally reassure her, "Don't worry about Draco, he's always very friendly to Hermione."
But Ginny always felt that it was because they were too stupid and didn't know that human hearts were treacherous.
Perhaps he approached Harry and the others for other purposes. The Malfoy family had always been notorious—they hated blood traitors and Muggle-born wizards, so how could they easily befriend them?
This silly girl Hermione, I don't know what she saw in him, she actually liked him so much! It's too dangerous!
So, out of distrust of Malfoy's character and concern for her good sister's personal safety, Ginny quietly hid behind the curtain at the entrance of Hermione's room and secretly watched what he was going to do.
Then she saw it. Malfoy was carefully laying Hermione on the bed, taking off her shoes, and gently covering her with a thin blanket, tucking the corners in.
This action...was surprisingly skillful? It was as if he had taken care of her more than once.
It's really - far from it! Ginny opened her mouth, feeling that her brain was not enough.
How could he do such a thing?
Wasn't Malfoy always arrogant and domineering, looking down on everyone in the school? Even his childhood friend Pansy Parkinson was often angered by him and cursed in the street.
She had heard that some girls had a crush on Malfoy. He was indeed handsome, and with his distinguished family background, excellent grades, and being the Slytherin Seeker, Malfoy had the capital to be arrogant.
But listen to what the Hogwarts students say about him: cold, arrogant, rude to girls, and even more ruthless to boys, a real Hogwarts sleet maker. Obviously, boys like Harry are more likable!
But, this person, the expression he gave Hermione at this moment, was even gentler than that of Senior Cedric, who was known for his gentleness and kindness. That cold face could actually become gentle, this was truly ridiculous!
Also, he wasn't even mad at Hermione for getting his obviously expensive suit wrinkled. Is that normal?
This was inconsistent with his usual personality - he was nothing like the overbearing and abstinent young master in school, ready to cast a curse on anyone who dared to cross him, or to trip you up afterwards; instead, he was like a big cat begging Hermione to stroke its fur, exuding an aura of obedience from head to toe.
Ginny held her breath in surprise. Through the corner of the curtain, she saw him gently lift a strand of her hair, sniff it, and a satisfied smile appeared on his face.
Huh? What's going on?
Is this what Hermione casually referred to as "an ordinary friend from the next door house"?
What the hell is this? Merlin's stinky socks!
However, this is not over yet! Under the flickering candlelight, the silhouette of the young master of the Malfoy family was cast on the tent cloth beside the bed. The silhouette hesitantly approached the girl's quiet face, as if observing her.
He paused for a long time.
When it lasted so long that Ginny began to feel a little impatient, the silhouette reached out, slowly ruffled the girl's hair, and gently and reverently kissed her forehead.
Then he suddenly stood up, as if awakened, and looked around.
Ginny Weasley whirled around and hid behind the curtains, gasping for breath.
Staring with shocked, round eyes, she swore to Merlin that if she believed Hermione Granger's nonsense again and believed that they were just ordinary friends from the neighboring college, she would take the initiative to turn herself into a splendens!