Draco increasingly discovered that she had a better understanding of spells than most wizards; at the same time, her ability to absorb knowledge silently was astonishing.
He believed that if he did not make good use of his spare time to do academic work, she would soon regain the top spot in the exams, just as she had in her previous life.
Hermione had no idea what the boy in front of her was thinking.
She looked at his soft, platinum blonde hair with amusement, teasing him, "Look, who is luckier now? I wager your friend cares about you just as much as he cares about Harry."
The bond between Slytherin and Gryffindor... it was never just about Harry.
Draco looked into her bright eyes, a bubble of joy rising in his heart.
After observing for a while, he gradually realised that his impulsive behaviour that night had not angered her. Her attitude towards him remained as kind as ever, even more so.
Every time he greeted Harry, he would take the opportunity to chat with her for a while, letting her proudly take care of his wet, cold, and tired body, making him feel dry and happy, both physically and mentally.
That is right, Slytherins never do anything without a benefit. That is the biggest advantage of greeting Harry.
"That is more like it," he said lazily, unable to resist smiling at her.
Hermione suppressed her intermittent "heart palpitations" and laughed along with him.
She had made up her mind not to avoid Draco because of her own problem; it was pointless.
Draco was innocent in this matter; he had done nothing wrong. Besides, during that Quidditch match, she had witnessed him being attacked by the Dementors and realised that the thought of "him possibly having an accident" was more unbearable for her than her own condition.
Besides, he was so good at being affectionate and endearing. Lying in his hospital bed, he had shown her a Draco Malfoy unlike any she had ever seen before.
Although he had only shown it for one night, and the next day he had returned to his proud and composed demeanour, she had already firmly remembered his coquettish manner.
This became their unspoken secret.
Sometimes, looking at the serious-looking boy in the crowd, Hermione would feel smug and self-satisfied thinking about this secret, and would often fall into a private smile.
She wanted to see him. She wanted to see him every single day.
The moment she met him was the happiest time of her day.
If he said a few more words to her, it would be perfect.
A Gryffindor should not associate so closely with a Slytherin.
Stop any Gryffindor student, and they would tell you that.
Hermione had already done the most outrageous thing... on the very night that Gryffindor was defeated by Slytherin, she had climbed into the bed of the Slytherin Seeker.
She had even slept in his arms all night, and then, like a foolish girl, quietly slipped away the next day.
Now, what is wrong with just taking another look at him?
She even found some minor loopholes: she happened to meet Draco three times a week, rain or shine, simply to take Harry to the pitch for training, so no one could say anything about it; it was also normal for them to be partners in class on weekdays, was it not?
Hermione Granger, with her brilliant Gryffindor mind, devised a Slytherin-esque circuitous path to achieve perfect self-consistency in her thinking, and unhesitatingly discarded her psychological burdens.
For Draco Malfoy, the most immediate feeling was that he had regained Hermione Granger's favour overnight... as her study partner.
She no longer avoided him like the plague. Before each class, a lively, brown-haired shadow would linger by his desk, like a butterfly occasionally flitting about in a dream. He would lift his eyelids, smile at her in a good mood, and lazily pull out the chair next to him.
Then, risking a racing heart, Hermione sat down with a proud look on her face, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The same applied to Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and Potions.
In any classroom that required collaboration, they were always a pair... study partners, as usual.
"Why?" Draco asked with interest, fiddling with the empty beakers, graduated cylinders, droppers, and flasks.
"Why not partner with some students who need extra help any more? Tired of helping others? Decided to try Slytherin's methods and not do things that do not benefit you?"
"Of course not! I have absolutely no interest in Slytherin's methods and tricks! Of course I will still help classmates in need!"
She blushed... intending to weigh the huge, slippery crocodile heart in her hand... and impatiently tossed her hair aside. "If Neville asks me about his studies, I will still tutor him! I just... I just... do not want to get any more points deducted by Professor Snape!"
"Yes, that is right." He chuckled softly and did not ask any further questions.
This wilful girl! She treats me like someone she can summon and dismiss at will.
But he was only concerned with feeling satisfied... it seemed she finally knew who was the most suitable person for her.
Do not get me wrong, I was just talking about study partners. That is all.
Draco stared smugly at her flushed profile, watching her toss her hair in distress, as if afraid it would fall onto the crocodile's heart, and he understood.
In high spirits, he picked up a hair tie from the corner of the workbench, leaned closer to her, and said in a lazy tone, "Do not move. I will tie your hair up... before it touches that heart."
"Oh, thank you," Hermione said, bowing her head.
What a blunder!
Suddenly partnered with him, she had panicked and become careless, forgetting the crucial step of "tying her hair." Now, her hands were wet, and she was in a bind, seemingly with no choice but to seek his help.
He was already close to her. His hands, as light as dragonfly wings, brushed past her ear and grasped her hair. His hands gently gathered her hair at the roots, and his fingers inadvertently slid lightly across the back of her neck... as soft as a feather... and a ticklish sensation travelled down her neck, triggering her "heart palpitations" once more.
Hermione closed her eyes, trying to suppress the turmoil in her heart.
They were at the back of the classroom, the students in front of them all busy at work, no one noticing what he was doing.
But she still felt something was wrong... her face was burning. She silently stared at the markings on the scales in front of her and the weights beside them, feeling as if the cold, slippery crocodile heart in her hand was still beating.
Draco was unaware of her inner thoughts.
All he knew was that she had to tie her hair before making potions, and her hands were already sticky from that bloody heart, so how could she touch that lovely, fragrant hair again?
Moreover, the potion-making time was limited. If she merely washed her hands and fiddled about, she probably would not have enough time to hand Professor Snape a decent potion before the end of the lesson.
Besides, there was indeed a little selfish motive.
He had recently developed a fondness for touching her hair. Ever since that day, when he had fallen asleep holding her hair on the hospital bed, this habit had become somewhat uncontrollable.
He always wanted to hold those brown, curly strands in his hands, to keep his palms from feeling empty.
It might be a lingering effect of the Dementors' attack. Yes, that is it.
He carefully tied her hair into a low ponytail, being very careful not to hurt her or pull any unruly strands.
"There." He gave her a satisfied look and prepared to light the fire beneath the cauldron.
"It is tied too loosely." She felt it and complained, "It will fall apart before the lesson is over."
"Oh, is that so? Shall I start over?" He turned around, his grey eyes fixed on her, seemingly quite willing to fuss over her hair again.
"No, no, let us leave it at that," she said hastily, afraid he would give her another heart-pounding frenzy. "It should last until we finish the potion. Professor Snape is looking this way, let us get started."