Chapter 414 Training
Chapter 414 Training
Although it was a basement, it didn't feel dark or damp at all; instead, it was warm and cozy from the heat.
"Recover quickly." Malfoy's deep voice slowly rang in Hermione's ears.
Hermione felt herself regaining control of her body, and her consciousness returned to her brain.
She slowly opened her eyes, and a black curtain came into view. The lace, like wisps of smoke, was gathered up, with a few silver tassels hanging down.
Light ribbons bound the curtain, like butterflies fluttering their wings in spring.
The large bed was soft and comfortable, the pillows were the perfect height, and it was embroidered with pink lace.
The whole room was filled with an ambiguous atmosphere, and there was a faint yet rich fragrance in the air, probably freshly sprayed.
But she didn't have time to savor this intoxicating flavor.
The excruciating pain seemed to have spread to every joint of her body again, and she couldn't help but curl up.
Like a pitiful shrimp with its back hunched over, the lingering pain still lived in every corner of her body, as if her bones had been crushed inch by inch, and then slowly grew back.
It not only hurts, but it's also very itchy.
"Just cooperate," Malfoy whispered gently in Hermione's ear.
The word "cooperate?" took on a completely different, suggestive meaning when it reached Hermione's ears.
She trembled with rage, and for a moment the pain of humiliation and hatred overwhelmed the realities of life.
She wanted to break free from her current situation; she tried to struggle to get up, but her hands were firmly held in place by strong hands.
If she could remain calm, she would have noticed that there was no lust in Malfoy's eyes; he was remarkably composed.
Hermione struggled desperately; she could now almost guess what was going to happen.
A seventeen-year-old girl's body is somewhere between youthful and mature; while not exactly curvaceous, it possesses a unique charm.
Malfoy's figure suddenly froze for a moment, his eyes suddenly changed, and then his strong hand climbed onto the girl's shoulder.
With a ripping sound, the golden-red female wizard's robe was torn open, revealing that the wide robe usually concealed her already developed figure.
My gaze wandered over her, and the girl's delicate collarbone was fully exposed, with light-colored thin shoulder straps on both sides of her slender shoulders.
Further down, there was a soft, white skin that made one's mouth dry, partially concealed by a white blouse, revealing a slight bulge and swelling.
Hermione instinctively bit her lip, her female instincts making her blush and want to cover it up, but the faint shyness vanished immediately, and the blush that had just crept onto her cheeks turned deathly pale.
She felt ashamed of her hesitation and shyness.
Hermione didn't want to accept it; for a fleeting moment, she had actually lost herself.
I don't like him now!
"I haven't had any feelings for him for a long time."
"He's Voldemort's henchman," he said, deserting the mission.
"He's a coward."
"Perhaps his return to Hogwarts was also arranged by Voldemort, just to gather intelligence.
He and Snape are in cahoots. Perhaps the poisoning of Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall was also done by him in cooperation with Snape."
"And Dementors..."
Hermione struggled desperately to convince herself.
At the same time, I felt ashamed of my brief moment of confusion.
The exposure of her skin made her lose her mind; she became terrified, and her flowing blood froze and then began to flow backward.
She tilted her head back and struggled to meet him, revealing even larger expanses of her snow-white skin, which was tinged with a blush in the ambiguous candlelight.
Malfoy's expression was now somewhat ferocious.
This violent reaction was completely unexpected.
He had assumed that Hermione, with her intelligence, would understand his "cooperation."
However, it now appears that the intention was misunderstood.
An even more extreme reaction.
Hermione suddenly sat up straight, trying to break free of her restraints.
She wanted to knock Malfoy down with a headbutt, because that was the only part of her body she could control.
Unexpectedly, Malfoy also reacted and took a step back, but it wasn't quite in time.
Their lips suddenly intertwined at an odd angle.
Kissing is something couples should do before kissing, followed by a lingering, infatuated gaze.
Four lips intertwined; the girl's lips were cool and had a faint sweetness.
Then a sharp pain shot through his lip, as if he had some deep-seated grudge.
The girl quickly realized what was happening and launched an even more intense counterattack.
He collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
"This is the second time." Malfoy touched the corner of his mouth.
"You really enjoy biting people." While Hermione was fast asleep, Malfoy lifted her chin and said with amusement.
Having caused such a huge mess, they should at least collect some interest. It has to be said, it's quite sophisticated.
This age possesses a unique blend of maturity and naivety, representing its most hazy and ambiguous stage.
In addition, her strong and independent temperament adds a unique charm.
"It would be better if he didn't like causing trouble so much," Malfoy sighed.
How to deal with this girl is also a big problem.
Perhaps we'll have to wait until the war ends and the dust settles?
Malfoy rubbed his forehead in anguish; clearly, this was a big problem.
We still need to think about what to say to Voldemort.
He turned his head away.
He was also in the prime of his life, and it was impossible for him to remain indifferent to this.
He kept guzzling tea into his mouth, drinking the expensive tea like a cow.
Malfoy calmed himself down.
I casually flipped through the pages, trying to calm myself down.
Malfoy wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. His teeth and tongue touched, and he felt a cool, sharp pain in his mouth. His lips and tongue were injured, and his teeth felt like they had been hit.
Just now, the vague feeling of being watched completely subsided.
It wasn't exactly spying, but it was enough for Voldemort to sense that fierce resistance was taking place here.
Even though he did countless things to prove his loyalty.
Voldemort didn't necessarily trust him completely.
His suspicious nature was ingrained in his very being.
About half an hour later, he saw Hermione's finger twitch.
"You're awake?" Malfoy asked casually, sitting down at a pale red solid wood coffee table, flipping through a book. Fine, tender green tea leaves floated quietly in his cup, emitting a faint white mist.
The scalding hot tea gradually cooled down.
"I'll just treat it like I was bitten by a dog," Hermione said angrily.
"You'd better get a vague idea first. I haven't touched you. A dead woman, oh no, girl, is too much of a downer for me. I'm not that quick to judge," Malfoy said calmly, raising his teacup and taking a sip.
"My Legilimency is just as good; I know exactly what you're thinking."
"Or rather, you've mastered the art of closing your mind quite well, but your acting skills aren't up to par. I can tell what you're thinking just by looking at your expressions."
"If you want to leave here, you'll have to lie down, but staying put isn't bad either; at least you won't lose your life for now."
Malfoy gently placed the teacup back on the exquisite mahogany coffee table, but some of the scalding tea still inevitably splashed out.
Where is her wand? Needless to say, it was taken away.
"This outfit doesn't suit you."
Hermione immediately instinctively covered her chest with both hands.
"Perfect for escaping, dressed very smartly." He shook his head approvingly.
"Don't worry, I won't help you. There's nothing to see here," he said coldly.
Malfoy snapped his fingers.
Suddenly, a small figure appeared before Hermione's eyes—its eyes gleaming somewhat vacantly.
"Keep an eye on her. If she runs away, you should kill yourself." This was the only order Malfoy gave her.
He knew how to handle the situation as a servant, and he exploited Hermione's weakness: she wouldn't run away, and she wouldn't accept a house-elf sacrificing himself for her.
Hermione glared angrily at Malfoy, about to say something, but was interrupted.
"If you don't want to get her killed, you shouldn't try to run away." Looking at Hermione's eyes, Malfoy gently wagged his index finger.
"The cruel decision was made by you, not me," he said softly.
Hermione's face, which had lost its color, flushed again with an alluring blush due to anger.
"Shameless." Hermione closed her eyes weakly, her lips moving as she spoke feebly.
"You have betrayed Professor McGonagall's trust in you!"
"I'm disappointed too," Hermione murmured softly, seemingly lost in thought, her face pale.
"Disappointed? Does that mean you still had hope for me?" she said jokingly, only to realize that she had asked a question she shouldn't have.
"Yes, I liked you until recently." Hermione didn't shy away from the question this time, giving a bombshell answer.
Malfoy met Malfoy's gaze without flinching, and the latter felt as if he had been struck in the chest by a dull thud.
An indescribable sense of absurdity kept welling up in Malfoy's heart.
"This joke isn't very funny, Miss Granger. If you don't have a sense of humor, you shouldn't make jokes."
His pale gray pupils suddenly contracted, and then he said coldly.
Your words prove a proverb—language is the most powerful magic.
"Instead of this, you should think of other ways to escape from me, instead of taking advantage of my sympathy."
Malfoy glanced at her a few times.
Hermione's body was stiff, all her strength gone.
Her brown, amber-tinged eyes glared resentfully at the man before her.
Malfoy reached out and ran his hand over Hermione's brown curls, twirling them around his fingers before abruptly releasing them.
It looks like flirting.
A faint scent of shampoo lingers in the hair.
But now, the girl feels disgusted and angry from the bottom of her heart.
"Take off her clothes and change her into something more suitable, something that's not too uncomfortable for her to run around in."
He deliberately put on a wicked smile.
The relief under pressure, perhaps a desire for indulgence before reaching a dead end, might have been this reckless girl's only contribution.
We always have to teach her a lesson, and she always does things that hold us back.
"Yes, young master," elf said numbly.
Finally, he gave some instructions to the little sprite named Sparkle and quickly left.
There was a sense of fleeing in panic, but Hermione's attention was distracted and she didn't notice.
With a click, the door closed.
He leaned against the door frame, touching his forehead, wondering if he was hallucinating.
It's less of a confession and more of a declaration of a complete break, given that the word "once" is used as a prefix.