"We are out!" Hermione exclaimed softly as the moonlight shifted.
The boys looked towards the opening at the sound. The group emerged one by one from the gap between the tree roots, some nimbly, some clumsily, and set off together towards the castle.
A short while later, Peter Pettigrew's tearful pleas for mercy carried across the grass.
Hermione's breathing quickened.
"Professor Lupin is going to turn into a werewolf," she said, trembling.
She was starting to feel frightened again, Draco thought.
He suddenly had a strange thought: perhaps she needed some comfort, just as she had after facing the werewolf.
He wanted to reach out and hold her, but her expression was as cold as ice.
His hand hesitated in mid-air, unsure whether the touch would offend her... after all, they had only just had a rather unpleasant and unsuccessful conversation.
But her face had turned pale.
As he hesitated, she quickly turned, glanced at him, and he saw her eyelashes faintly damp with fright.
He clenched his fists, trying to hold back, but he could not help himself.
He chose a roundabout approach, and simply patted her on the shoulder.
She might shrug him off, Draco thought with self-reproach.
But she did not shake him off. She even moved slightly closer to him.
Although her back remained straight, her profile remained stubborn, and she would not so much as glance at him.
Her gaze stayed fixed intently on the grass, no longer looking at him. But Draco could sense it; her trembling had lessened, and her breathing had slowed.
Though she was angry with him, she was still willing to accept his comfort.
The embers in Draco's heart no longer ached quite so badly.
He patted her gently, carefully, rhythmically, watching her and trying to work out more of what she was thinking.
Was that door still open to him?
He was not sure.
What was certain was that his heart, and everything else besides, had finally stopped churning. They had survived.
She had not rejected him. And so, from beneath the ashes in his heart, a tender green shoot grew anew.
He stared at her still, focused profile, and as he seemed to hear that tender shoot sprouting in his own heart, he suddenly felt the night breeze was not so cold after all.
Hermione was experiencing a jumble of feelings.
She felt like a broken magnet, its poles constantly reversing.
She longed for him to be near her, yet resented that he was.
Never mind. I shall reject him properly later. For now, I will just let him comfort me.
As he gently patted her, she indulged in the irreplaceable sense of security he gave her, telling herself this small lie.
He had, after all, shielded her from the werewolf. That scene was too unforgettable to be wiped from her mind so quickly.
Hermione Granger, you shameless girl, she scolded herself inwardly.
She wanted him to hold her, to hold her tightly.
But she could not say so outright. She was still angry with him!
Should she push him away now and make her feelings plain?
She wondered, confused.
Or, he ought to be holding her tightly in his arms, wrapping her close, keeping her far from that terrifying werewolf.
It ought not to be merely a light pat, she thought with dissatisfaction.
Hermione, tormented by her own fickle thoughts, could not help but, in her irritation, move a little closer to him again.
For Draco, every time she drew nearer, he found it harder and harder to control himself.
He wanted to hold her. He wanted to comfort her.
Her figure was slight, trembling in the night wind, making her seem fragile and rather pitiable.
But if he put his arm round her, would she be angry? He hesitated, feeling she was a puzzle he could not quite solve.
"He is going to run for it." Harry's voice suddenly rang out, breaking through the tension between them.
Harry gritted his teeth, gripping his wand tightly, ready to strike at any moment.
In the moonlight, Draco saw a cunning look cross Peter Pettigrew's face.
Taking advantage of the chaos, he snatched up Lupin's wand, fallen to the ground, grinning maliciously, and said, "No one can catch me," before transforming into a great rat and darting into the nearby bushes.
The rat, feeling pleased with himself, ran straight towards the hollow beneath the Whomping Willow.
Draco raised his wand, ready to strike the moment the rat vanished from sight; he knew Harry and Hermione beside him were doing the same.
Surely one of the three of them would hit their mark?
He thought that even by the Muggle probability Hermione was so fond of citing, it was a certainty.
Closer and closer, the rat scurried into view, approaching them.
Just then, under the glow of the full moon, a ball of ginger fur leapt down from the tree, knocked the rat senseless with a swipe of a paw, and bit clean through the back of its neck.
"Crookshanks..." Hermione exclaimed softly.
They stared at Crookshanks in astonishment.
He was calmly picking up the remains of the still-twitching rat... and so ended the sinful, pitiable life of Peter Pettigrew.
It had all happened so quickly! They had not even had time to stop it.
They could no longer get any useful information from him now, because the one who held the secret was no longer breathing.
The three of them stood frozen in the bushes like three astonished statues, watching Crookshanks stroll away, the dead rat in his mouth, before nimbly vanishing into a patch of shrubs.
"Merlin," Draco said softly.
"Oh my goodness," Hermione exclaimed at the same moment.
They stood side by side, utterly astonished.
No one had expected that Peter Pettigrew's life, prolonged for over a decade of hiding, should ultimately come to an end with nothing more than a sigh from onlookers.
After a moment of stunned silence, Harry suddenly came back to himself. He said urgently, "Stop gawping, we have to go! The werewolf will be here soon!"
"That is right!" Hermione exclaimed, snapping back to herself.
"Where to?" Draco asked.
"Hagrid's hut! No one will be there!" Hermione said as she ran. "He is still out looking for people at the castle!"
The three of them ran as fast as they could, until they reached Hagrid's empty hut.
"How did you know Hagrid would not be there?" Draco asked her as he shut the door.
"Does someone here have absolutely no memory? He told Harry all about it in the Hospital Wing," Hermione said loftily, without looking at him.
"How could I possibly remember all that so precisely?" Draco said, rather astonished, looking at her admiringly. "However does someone manage such a memory, to keep it all so clear?"
Hermione felt rather pleased with herself. Though she still ignored him outwardly, she smiled to herself in secret.
The only sound in the hut was Fang, barking incessantly.
Harry took some toffee from a jar on the mantelpiece, trying to unstick it from the over-excited dog's teeth, while Draco leaned over the window and caught a glimpse of Professor Snape crossing the field.
In the moonlight, Professor Snape's face looked grim. He was hurrying towards the source of the wolf's howling.
"Professor Snape, he tried to protect us." Hermione, peering through the other end of the window, had also noticed the commotion outside. Her expression was complicated.
"He is a responsible teacher, even though I still do not approve of his methods, or how he treats Gryffindor students..."
Draco's lips curled up slightly.
Hermione seemed to be in a much better mood, and, without quite realising it, seemed willing to speak to him again.
Moreover, he was pleased that Hermione was willing to give Professor Snape credit for his character as a Hogwarts teacher.
A moment later, another Draco came running frantically from the direction of the castle. He seemed to catch sight of something in the field, opened his arms, and caught the ginger cat that leapt into them.
So, the rat's remains Crookshanks had brought up back then had been Peter Pettigrew all along?
Draco suddenly stumbled upon an astonishing secret.
And he very much wished he could warn his past self not to touch Crookshanks' mouth.