Chapter 20: Malfoy: Tonight, You Are Mine
It was almost eleven-thirty, nearing midnight.
Hermione Granger moved close to the wall, the cold stone bricks raising goosebumps on her bare ankles.
She avoided the patrol route of prefect Penelope, a safe zone she had spent an afternoon marking on a map.
Her heart was pounding violently in her chest.
She repeatedly smoothed the collar of her robes; the parchment, softened by the sweat on her palm, was clutched in her hand.
"Academic Discussion Regarding Those Spells."
Mumbling the words on the paper, her cheeks felt hot.
She didn't know that this was also the spot where Harryand Draco had agreed to duel.
Tonight, it was just her and Draco.
And those fascinating spells.
The door to the Trophy Room was at the end of the corridor, moonlight spreading a sheet of silver across the floor.
Her eyes shone with anticipation. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to walk over.
Just then.
From the shadow of a nearby alcove, a hand shot out and clamped precisely onto her wrist.
"Mmmph!"
Her gasp was trapped in her throat.
A strong force yanked her into the darkness, her back slamming hard against the stone wall.
A warm palm covered her mouth.
The crisp scent of mint mixed with old parchment completely enveloped her.
It was Draco.
Hermione's pupils contracted in the darkness. As the fear subsided, her heartbeat became even more erratic.
Draco's tall figure trapped her in the narrow alcove.
He raised an index finger, pressed it against her lips, and made a shushing gesture.
His fingertip was slightly cool.
They were too close.
So close that she could feel the steady beat of his heart against her chest and his warm breath fanning her cheek.
Hermione was completely rigid, the blood rushing to her head, making her feel dizzy.
Why was he doing this?
"Shh."
Draco's voice was very low, like a rush of air entering her ear.
He tilted his head toward the Trophy Room, his eyes filled with mockery.
"Our savior, and his red-headed sidekick, won't be coming tonight."
Hermione froze.
What did he mean?
Draco's finger slid from her lips, moving instead to grip her chin, forcing her to look up.
His grey-blue eyes shone frighteningly bright in the darkness.
"They didn't come to the appointment; they went to Filch's office."
His voice was soft, yet it chipped away at her understanding like a chisel.
"To inform on us, saying someone was out of bed here at night."
"Granger, you were just bait, a tool used to keep me occupied."
"No... impossible." Hermione's mind went blank, and she instinctively refuted him.
Harry wasn't that kind of person, and Ron wouldn't either... They were Gryffindors, how could they use such despicable methods?
"They wanted Filch to catch me, give me detention, or preferably, get me expelled outright."
Draco released her, his tone flat and without a ripple of emotion.
"And you, Miss Granger, would be the 'innocent victim coerced by me,' safe and sound."
"A perfect plan, isn't it? Eliminate the opponent, preserve their reputation."
Hermione shook her head vigorously, her lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.
She didn't believe it.
But Draco's expression, which seemed to see through everything, caused the trust in her heart to begin crumbling.
"Meow—"
A sharp meow came from the corridor.
Hermione's body stiffened.
Following Draco's gaze, she saw a skinny cat pacing near the entrance of the Trophy Room in the moonlight.
Its bulb-like yellow eyes were fixed intently on the alcove where they were hiding.
Madam Norris.
Filch's cat.
Why was it here?
Draco's words exploded in her mind.
All her lingering hope collapsed the moment she saw the cat.
It was true.
Harry and Ron had really betrayed her.
They exploited her anticipation and treated her like a fool they could discard at any moment.
A chill rose up her spine, and Hermione's body began to tremble.
"Clack... clack... clack..."
Dragging footsteps, mixed with the jingle of colliding keys, came from the other end of the corridor.
Filch!
He was coming!
Hermione's heart leaped into her throat; if they were caught, it was over!
She looked at Draco, her eyes full of panic.
Draco, however, showed no sign of tension; he even quirked the corner of his mouth at her.
The expression clearly said: See? I told you so.
Filch's footsteps were already close by.
Draco moved.
He gripped Hermione's cold wrist with his backhand.
"Come with me."
It was an undeniable command.
Pulling her, he pushed open a stone slab behind the alcove. The slab slid away silently, revealing a dark, narrow passage.
The stale, damp smell rushed out.
Before Hermione could react, Draco yanked her inside.
The stone slab closed behind them, cutting off the sound from outside.
The world plunged into absolute darkness and silence.
Hermione couldn't see anything, only feel a warm, strong hand holding hers tightly.
That hand belonged to Draco Malfoy.
In this desperate situation of being betrayed by her friends, the one who pulled her along was actually her lifelong "enemy."
This realization caused her final defense mechanism to collapse.
She stopped thinking, letting Draco lead her through the darkness.
His steps were steady, and his hand was warm.
In this moment, Gryffindor friendship felt like a joke.
After an unknown amount of time, a faint light appeared ahead.
Draco stopped and pushed open another stone slab.
The corridor of the main Hogwarts Castle appeared before their eyes.
They were out.
Hermione gasped for fresh air, her heart still pounding wildly.
She looked up and realized they were on the Eighth Floor. A tapestry depicting a Troll beating Scholars hung on the wall in front of them.
*Barnabas the Barmy Bashing Trolls*.
Draco released her hand and straightened his slightly disheveled collar.
The warmth of his hand still lingered in Hermione's palm, and she suddenly felt an emptiness in her heart.
She looked at Draco's profile, her lips moving as she tried to say thank you.
Draco spoke first. He turned his head, his grey-blue eyes glittering with amusement in the dim light.
"Don't be so quick to thank me, Granger."
"We dodged the trap, but our 'academic discussion' is just beginning."
He turned sideways, facing the stretch of bare wall next to the tapestry.
"Next, I'm taking you somewhere."
"A... Sanctuary that only those smart enough are worthy of entering."
Hermione stared confusedly at the empty wall in front of Draco.
There was nothing there except for a silly tapestry on the wall depicting a Troll doing ballet.
Draco offered no explanation.
He simply stood before the wall and closed his eyes.
Hermione subconsciously held her breath.
Then, Draco began pacing back and forth in front of the wall.
One step, two steps, three steps.
His steps were small, yet they carried a precise rhythm.
The moment he walked past the wall for the third time, a sudden change occurred.
The outline of a door was sketched out of thin air on the smooth stone wall. Light flowed within the stone, eventually solidifying into a shape.
An antique dark oak door simply appeared before Hermione.
The round brass doorknob shone with a subtle luster under the light of the corridor torches.
Hermione's mind completely crashed.
What kind of magic was this? Her knowledge reserves contained no records of such a phenomenon.
Draco opened his eyes and glanced back at her.
His look held a sense of triumph, as if saying: Granger, there's still a lot you don't know.
He reached out, grasped the knob, and gave it a gentle turn.
"Click."
The door opened.
A warm scent, mixing black tea, old book pages, and burning wood, rushed out from the gap in the door, instantly enveloping Hermione.
She was completely stunned.
Behind the door was a room that was unbelievably cozy.
A heavy, deep red carpet absorbed all sound. In the stone fireplace on the left, the fire was roaring, crackling softly.
In the center of the room, there was only one dramatically huge, dark green velvet sofa.
That color was the color of Slytherin.
Private, comfortable, and bearing a strong personal imprint.
How could there be a place like this inside Hogwarts?
"Come in, don't just stand there."
Draco's voice pulled her back to her senses. He had already walked inside and was casually taking off his wide black cloak.
Hermione stepped mechanically across the threshold like a puppet on strings.
The moment she entered, the wooden door behind her closed automatically and silently.
With a soft "thump," it cut off everything outside.
Hermione stood awkwardly on the carpet near the entrance, unsure what to do with her hands and feet.
"Where... where is this place?" Her throat was dry.
Draco hung his cloak on a coat rack that had appeared out of nowhere beside the fireplace, looking as relaxed as if he were back in his own bedroom.
"The Room of Requirement," he said flatly.
"The Room of Requirement?" Hermione repeated the name, her eyes sparkling with a thirst for knowledge.
"Yes." Draco walked to the sofa, turned around, and looked at her composedly.
"When a Wizard urgently needs a certain place, concentrate on your need, walk past this spot three times, and the door will appear."
He paused, a flicker of amusement crossing his grey eyes.
"Inside the room, everything you need will appear."
Hermione's heart gave a sudden leap.
This magic... was far more profound than any Transfiguration she had ever learned!
"For example, I just needed a private place 'where we could quietly conduct an academic discussion without being disturbed'."
Draco's gaze swept over the fireplace and the massive sofa, his meaning implicit.
"And so, it appeared."
This sentence, like a key, precisely unlocked Hermione's emotional defenses.
Draco Malfoy was sharing a secret with her that wasn't even recorded in *Hogwarts: A History*.
This realization gave her a dizzying sense of vanity.
"Why... are you telling me this?" she couldn't help but ask.
"Because," Draco's gaze deepened, "I already told you, Granger, this place only opens for those who are'smart enough'."
He looked her up and down, his tone carrying a hint of reluctant approval.
"And you, barely count as the least idiotic Gryffindor I've ever met."
Hermione's cheeks instantly flushed, the heat spreading all the way to her earlobes.
She lowered her head awkwardly, afraid to meet Draco's eyes.
Just then, a low rumble of thunder came from the window in the room, which shouldn't exist on the Castle's exterior wall.
It was going to rain.
The impending storm outside contrasted sharply with the warm fire inside.
Hermione suddenly realized that this was a space belonging only to her and Draco Malfoy.
Her heartbeat, once again, spiraled out of control.
Draco seemed satisfied with her reaction and sat down right in the middle of the dark green sofa.
He sank into the soft sofa, his posture lazy yet full of control.
He didn't speak again, merely raising his eyes and quietly watching Hermione, who was frozen by the door.
Then, he reached out and patted the spacious empty spot beside him, neither too hard nor too soft.
"Come here, Granger."
His voice wasn't loud, but it echoed clearly in the quiet room.
"Our 'Spell Tutoring' can now begin."
Chapter 21 Malfoy: Don't Move, I'll Teach You
Hermione's steps were stiff.
The hearth fire flickered, stretching their shadows and twisting them together on the carpet.
She eventually walked to the sofa and sat down upright in the spot he had just patted.
The sofa was soft, and her body uncontrollably sank a bit towards Draco in the middle.
Between the two, there was less than a fist's distance.
The cool scent of mint on him, mixed with the aroma of books, was pervasive.
Hermione subconsciously held her breath, her back as stiff as a board.
Draco didn't look at her; he turned sideways, and a coverless notebook appeared in his hand out of thin air.
The notebook's pages were yellowed and the corners worn, filled with annotations written in beautiful copperplate script.
It was his handwriting.
"Look at this."
He spread the notebook open, placing it in the empty space between them.
"The anomalous evolution of Ancient Runes in offensive spells, my recent research."
Hermione's gaze was immediately drawn to it.
Complex runic symbols, precise spell trajectory diagrams, and dense annotations filled the margins.
The depth of this knowledge far exceeded the scope of the first year, being even more obscure than senior textbooks.
That damn thirst for knowledge instantly crushed the defenses she had painstakingly built up.
"Is this... a modification of the 'Langlock' jinx?" she pointed at a diagram, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.
A flash of approval appeared in Draco's grey-blue eyes, "You noticed."
"Traditional spells only make the tongue stick to the roof of the mouth, which a simple counter-jinx can undo."
"But if you add this variant of Ancient Runes into the syllables..."
His slender fingers traced across the notebook, guiding her gaze.
Hermione involuntarily leaned in, her brain working rapidly as she tried to keep up with his logic.
"...the spell's effect will become 'neurological paralysis'."
"To undo it, one would either need a Nerve-Restoration Potion or a higher-level counter-spell."
Draco's voice was low and pleasant, clearly dissecting a brand-new magical world for her.
Hermione was mesmerized.
It was amazing!
Discussing magic with Draco was more interesting than Professor Flitwick's class.
Ron and Harry would never understand this; they would only find it boring.
Only Draco... only he could converse with her on the same intellectual level.
Seeing the pure light of thirst for knowledge in Hermione's eyes, a faint, almost imperceptible curve formed at the corner of Draco's lips.
The prelude was enough.
"However, theory is just theory." He changed the subject, "Your problem lies in practice, Granger."
"Your spellcasting gestures are too stiff."
The excitement on Hermione's face faded, and she lowered her head somewhat embarrassedly, "I... I've been practicing."
"If the direction is wrong, no amount of practice will help," Draco said in a tone that brooked no argument.
"Wand."
Hermione obediently pulled her Vine Wood Wand from her robes.
"Hold your hand out flat."
She did as told.
The next moment, Draco moved.
He didn't come from the front, but circled around from behind her, leaning forward to enclose her entirely between his embrace and the back of the sofa.
Hermione's back instantly pressed against a warm, solid chest.
His body heat through two layers of fabric made her shiver.
"Don't move."
His left hand gripped her right wrist holding the wand, and his right hand covered the back of her hand, firmly yet gently adjusting her posture.
This posture... Hermione felt as if she had been captured. She couldn't move, and she didn't dare to.
"Relax your wrist."
Draco's chin rested on the crook of her shoulder; as he spoke, his warm breath heated her ear and neck.
Hermione's ears burned with a whoosh.
A strange tingling sensation surged from behind her ear, causing goosebumps to form on her skin.
"Like this," his large hand enveloped hers with ease, "rotate your wrist, leading with the tip of the wand..."
He guided her through a fluid flick.
Hermione's brain stopped functioning.
Her nose was filled with his crisp scent, her back felt his steady and powerful heartbeat, while her own heart was beating so fast it felt like it would jump out of her throat.
Two hearts, separated by chests, resonated erratically.
"Chant the spell."
His lips almost brushed against her earlobe.
"'Locomotor Wibbly'."
"Lo... Locomotor... Wibbly..."
Her voice was soft and trembling, like a broken marionette.
As the last syllable fell.
"Poof!"
A large burst of pink sparks sprayed from the tip of the wand, carrying warmth as they crackled and exploded in the air.
Then, like fireflies, they slowly vanished.
The spell failed.
And in such a... girly way.
Hermione's cheeks were hot enough to fry an egg.
A massive sense of shame mixed with a sweet, panicky fluster made her wish she could disappear on the spot.
She messed up.
In front of Draco Malfoy, under such close instruction, she messed up a simple Jelly-Legs Curse because she was flustered.
[Ding!]
A crisp electronic sound rang in Draco's mind.
[Detected deep physical contact with high-potential target 'Hermione Granger' for over 10 minutes!]
[Bond energy charging complete!]
[Congratulations to the host for obtaining a special trait — 'Charisma Aura LV2'! (Slightly increases attraction to the opposite sex; your words and actions will more easily gain natural goodwill from the opposite sex)]
[Congratulations to the host for obtaining the skill — 'Ancient Runes: Basic Understanding'! (Your comprehension of Ancient Runes has been greatly enhanced)]
Satisfaction flashed in Draco's eyes.
The lesson was over.
Yet he didn't move.
Still maintaining the posture of embracing her from behind, he turned his head and observed the girl's flushed face in his arms from close range.
He could even see her eyelashes trembling incessantly from nervousness.
His fingers slid from the back of her hand, moving up, his fingertips gently hooking a stray strand of brown curly hair by her ear.
Leisurely, he tucked it behind her ear.
The skin of his fingertips brushed against her burning earlobe, seemingly unintentionally.
Hermione shuddered all over.
In the air, only two erratic sounds of breathing remained.
Chapter 22: Harry and Ron's Desperate Run
At the other end of Hogwarts Castle, outside the Trophy Room.
"Whew... whew... Harry, are you sure it's here?"
Ron Weasley had his hands on his knees, his lungs wheezing like a broken bellows.
He and Harry had dodged two patrols of prefects and run all the way here, their legs trembling.
Harry was also exhausted; he leaned against the cold wall and nodded heavily.
"That's right, Malfoy's note said... it's right here."
The two of them caught their breath and looked at the closed oak door.
The surroundings were deathly silent, so quiet it was unsettling.
"Where is that bastard?" Ron whispered, his tone very unfriendly. "Is he playing us?"
Harry's brow furrowed as he also sensed something was wrong.
It was too quiet here.
Quiet like a prepared trap.
Just as he finished speaking, a withered shadow suddenly lunged out from behind a nearby suit of armor, the light of a lantern illuminating a gleeful face.
"Got—you—now!"
It was Filch!
The Caretaker's voice was as sharp as nails scraping across a slate, and the cat at his feet, Madam Norris, arched her back and let out a threatening hiss.
"Two little brats, out wandering at midnight! Breaking school rules! See if I don't hang you up with chains!"
Harry and Ron's blood ran cold.
It was a setup.
Malfoy hadn't come at all; he had lured them here and then snitched!
"Run!"
Harry roared, grabbing the dazed Ron and turning to bolt.
"Stop!" Filch screamed, chasing after them.
In the empty corridors, a fierce game of cat and mouse unfolded.
"Haha! Two stupid Gryffindors are in for it now!"
Peeves appeared out of nowhere, swirling above their heads and throwing chalk bits down like stones, making Ron cough repeatedly.
"This way!"
Relying on a vague memory, Harry pulled Ron into a side path.
In the panic, Ron slammed headfirst into a suit of knight's armor.
"CLANG—CRASH—"
The massive metallic crash echoed through the Castle like a funeral bell.
"They're over there!" Filch's roar was right on their heels.
Scared out of their wits, the two of them scrambled into a secret door and slammed it shut.
The door panel blocked out the shouting from outside. Ron slid down the wall to sit on the floor, his face covered in dust and cold sweat, looking absolutely pathetic.
"Damn Malfoy! He's a liar! A despicable little snitch!" His voice trembled with rage.
After cursing Malfoy, he turned his fire on Harry.
"It's all your fault, Harry! Insisting on coming to this hellish meeting!"
"And Hermione! Why didn't she stop us? If she had said just one more word, we wouldn't have come!"
He completely forgot that it was they who had driven her away because they found her nagging annoying.
In Ron's mind, it was always someone else's fault... Meanwhile, inside the Room of Requirement.
The fireplace was burning brightly, filling the entire room with a warm yellow glow.
Draco finally let go of Hermione.
He rose from the sofa and walked over to the fireplace.
With a thought, a small tea table and two cups of steaming drinks appeared out of thin air.
It was hot cocoa, with a few small marshmallows floating on top.
Draco picked up a cup, walked back to the sofa, and handed it to the girl who was still sitting there dazed, her cheeks flushed and her eyes misty.
"Drink some, it'll warm you up." His voice was gentle.
Hermione hurriedly took the cup as if she had been burned. Only when her fingertips touched the warm wall of the cup did her chaotic thoughts regain a bit of reality.
She took small sips, and the sweet, warm flow slid down her throat, dispelling the last bit of chill in her body.
She stole a glance at Draco.
He wasn't looking at her, but was leaning against the fireplace, also holding a cup of hot cocoa, staring elegantly at the flickering flames.
The firelight outlined his perfect profile. A high bridge of the nose, slightly pursed thin lips, and those grey-blue eyes looked exceptionally deep in the firelight.
Hermione's heart suddenly skipped a beat.
In her mind, Ron's freckled face, filled with jealousy after the Flying Class this afternoon, flashed uncontrollably.
Crude, irritable, and quite stupid.
Then look at Draco in front of her.
Elegant, powerful, smart, and even... very good at taking care of people.
The contrast was too stark.
Hermione's hand holding the cup tightened unconsciously.
How could she have thought before that being with Ronand Harry was the right choice?
Sensing her gaze, Draco turned his head.
Their eyes met.
Hermione's heart began to accelerate uncontrollably again.
Draco set down his cup and walked toward her.
He stopped in front of her, his tall figure casting a small shadow that enveloped her.
Hermione gripped her cup nervously. What was he going to do?
Draco didn't speak.
He just bent down, reached out, and gently tilted her chin up.
Before Hermione could react at all, a kiss carrying the scent of hot cocoa landed on her forehead.
"You are the most outstanding Witch I have ever met, Hermione."
For the first time, he called her by her name.
Not "Granger," but "Hermione."
After saying this, Draco straightened up, a faint smile on his face, and turned back to the fireplace, leaving her petrified where she sat.
Hermione subconsciously raised her hand, her fingertips gently touching the forehead where he had kissed her.
There, the warmth and sensation of his lips seemed to remain.
[Ding!]
A cold electronic voice sounded in Draco's mind, forming a sharp contrast to his current pleasant mood.
[Detected target Hermione Granger's emotions are fluctuating violently, bond level breakthrough!]
[Affection level has increased to—'Adoration' (96/100)!]
Meanwhile, on the other side.
At the end of the dark corridor where Harry and Ronwere, those pale yellow eyes moved.
A low growl came from the depths of the darkness as a massive black shadow slowly rose.
Not just one pair of eyes.
It was three pairs!
What was that?!
Harry and Ron's minds went blank instantly.
The massive black shadow slowly stood up, and a stench of rotting meat mixed with smelly socks hit them.
A giant dog larger than a bull, with three heads—a Cerberus!
The three heads shook impatiently, and six yellow eyes as big as lightbulbs stared fixedly at the intruders.
One of the heads yawned, revealing a mouth full of dagger-like fangs, and thick saliva dripped to the floor, forming a puddle.
"ROAR—!"
The middle head was completely awake and let out a roar toward the ceiling.
The roar made the entire corridor vibrate.
"Ah—!"
Ron let out a scream, his eyes rolled back, his legs went weak, and he collapsed onto the floor.
He wet himself in fear.
Harry's heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a hand, nearly stopping.
The Fourth-floor forbidden area!
He remembered! Dumbledore had warned them!
In their panic, they had blundered in here!
"Ron! Get up! Run!"
Harry suppressed his fear, grabbed Ron's arm, and dragged him back.
The Cerberus didn't give them time to react.
The right head lunged forward, opening its massive mouth to bite at the wooden door behind them!
"CRUNCH!"
The thick wooden door shattered in its mouth like a biscuit!
Splinters flew, and one grazed Harry's cheek, leaving a stinging bloody scratch.
The sharp pain and the threat of death gave him a jolt, sparking an unprecedented surge of strength.
He practically lifted the limp Ron up and dragged him back with all his might.
"Run!" he roared.
Ron finally came to his senses and scrambled along with Harry, hands and feet flailing, toward the corridor entrance.
The Cerberus roared and chased after them, each step making the ground vibrate slightly.
Harry and Ron felt like ants being chased by a locomotive.
The two finally escaped the room and returned to the corridor.
Without thinking, Harry turned and joined Ron in using their bodies to pin the broken door shut.
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
The Cerberus slammed frantically against the door, the roars nearly shattering their eardrums.
"Hold it!" Harry gritted his teeth, his face turning bright red.
They didn't know how long they held it, but the crashing behind the door finally stopped, replaced by low whines.
The monster seemed to have grown tired of playing and gone back to sleep.
Only then did the two let go, sliding down against the wall and gasping for air.
Cold sweat soaked their robes, sticking to their bodies, and their hearts were pounding wildly.
They didn't dare stay a second longer.
They helped each other up and, using their last ounce of strength, ran all the way back.
Through corridors and down staircases.
It wasn't until the portrait of the fat lady appeared before them that they felt alive again.
"Password?" the fat lady asked, having been woken up and looking very displeased.
"Pig snout!" Harry shouted, out of breath.
The portrait swung open.
The two stumbled into the warm, bright Common Roomand, unable to hold on any longer, both collapsed into armchairs in front of the fireplace.
The relief of having survived was quickly replaced by lingering fear and anger.
"It's all your fault!" Ron pointed at Harry, his lips still trembling. "You took the wrong way! We almost died!"
Harry was tired and scared, and hearing this, his anger flared up.
"I took the wrong way? If you hadn't insisted on dueling Malfoy, would we have needed to be out in the middle of the night!" he retorted bluntly.
"How was I to know he'd snitch! That Slytherin bastard!"
"Then you shouldn't have agreed to it! You should have known he was up to no good!"
After the extreme terror, the two boys began to blame each other without any grace.
Just as the two were arguing until they were red in the face.
"Creak—"
The portrait of the fat lady opened again.
A figure hummed a little tune and walked in briskly.
It was Hermione Granger.
She had just finished washing up, her face was rosy, and her slightly curly brown hair gave off the fresh scent of shampoo.
Her step was light, a sweet smile played on her lips, and she looked radiant, as if she had just had a beautiful dream.
Then, she saw the two boys in front of the fireplace—disheveled, covered in dust, and glaring at each other.
Hermione's footsteps stopped.
The smile on her face froze.
The three of them stared at each other.
Chapter 23: Hermione's Indifference, Ron's Breakdown
Early the next morning, in the Hogwarts Great Hall.
The atmosphere at the Gryffindor table was tense.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, both with dark circles under their eyes, mechanically poked at the sausages on their plates with their forks, neither having any appetite.
The foul saliva and deafening roar of the three-headed dog from last night had been replaying in their minds all night.
Across from them, Hermione Granger looked radiant.
Her hair was neatly combed, and she was completely absorbed in reading a leather-bound notebook without a cover—the very one Draco had lent her.
When she reached an interesting part, a faint smile even appeared at the corner of her mouth.
That genuine joy stung the eyes of the two boys opposite her.
Harry couldn't take it anymore; he needed allies, someone to share his fear.
"Hermione," he leaned forward, his voice barely a whisper, "last night... Ron and I, we..."
He cautiously glanced around before leaning in even closer.
"We broke into the Forbidden Area on the Fourth Floorand saw a three-headed dog!"
He waited for Hermione's gasp of shock, her concern, or even a scolding.
But Hermione merely lifted her eyelids from the notebook and gave him a cool glance.
"So?" she asked.
Harry's words caught in his throat.
Hermione continued, "Breaking school rules, wandering around the Castle, and then getting scared out of your wits. Is this your idea of a 'duel'?"
"Malfoy tricked us!" Ron couldn't hold back anymore, interjecting angrily, "And he even snitched on us!"
"Oh? Really?"
Hermione's lips curled slightly, her expression bearing a faint resemblance to Draco's.
"Draco already told me he never intended to go."
Those words left Harry and Ron's minds completely blank.
"He just wanted to see how foolish the Gryffindor savior and his friend could be, to believe a duel invitation from a Slytherin."
Hermione's words carried no emotion, yet each one struck a painful blow.
This was the "truth" Draco had prepared for her—a perfect excuse that shifted all the blame onto their stupidity and recklessness.
"He said it was just a prank at most, to get you caught by Filch and made to copy the school rules a few times."
She closed the notebook, her gaze sweeping over the two of them with a scrutinizing air.
"Who knew you'd be foolish enough to break into the Forbidden Area on the Fourth Floor."
Harry and Ron's faces flushed red and pale in turns.
It felt as if all eyes in the Great Hall were on them, turning them into complete laughingstocks.
And Draco Malfoy was the lofty spectator of the show.
"You... where were you last night?"
Ron's anger finally overpowered his shame. He glared fiercely at Hermione, his tone dripping with barely suppressed bitterness.
"You came back to the dormitory so late! Were you... with Malfoy?"
The words "last night" made Hermione's cheeks flush hot.
That Room of Requirement, the close-up teaching, and that feather-light kiss on her forehead... Her eyes flustered, and she instinctively avoided Ron's gaze.
That blush, in Ron's eyes, became the most direct evidence.
"You were actually with that bastard!" His voice cracked, sharp and piercing.
Hermione's face instantly turned cold.
She looked up, her eyes filled with undisguised disgust.
"Where I go and who I'm with, Ron Weasley, is none of your business."
With that, she hugged the precious notebook tightly, stood up, and walked straight away from the table without looking back.
Harry and Ron sat frozen in their seats; the small crack between them had now become a bottomless chasm.
At the Slytherin table.
Draco leisurely wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin, watching the drama unfold at the Gryffindor table without missing a single detail.
Hermione's decisiveness, Ron's loss of composure, Harry's stiffness.
Perfect.
He picked up his goblet, took a sip of the chilled pumpkin juice, and felt a wave of satisfaction in his throat.
[Ding!]
[Detected a major deviation in the original key plot point "Midnight Duel"!]
[The core relationship chain "Gryffindor Golden Trio" has irreversibly fractured!]
[Mission Evaluation: Perfect!]
[Reward Issued: Points +2000!]
The corner of Draco's lips curled silently.
This game was getting more and more interesting.
Just then, a Barn Owl flapped its wings, flew across the Great Hall, and landed precisely on the table in front of him.
The owl had a long, narrow package and a letter tied to its leg.
The surrounding Slytherin students cast curious glances.
Draco untied the package and opened it.
Inside was a brand-new set of Broomstick Maintenance Tools. The Polished Wooden Box bore a silver emblem—"nimbus 2001."
"Merlin! It's next year's new model!"
"My father said the nimbus 2001 is still in internal testing. How does Draco have its Care Kit?"
A wave of suppressed exclamations rose around them.
Another one of Lucius Malfoy's displays of extravagance. Draco wasn't particularly interested.
He picked up the smaller letter and opened it.
On the stationery was his father's elegant yet sharp handwriting, with only one sentence.
"On Halloween Eve, the show begins."
Draco pinched the note, his fingertips applying slight pressure.
Halloween... the Troll.
It seemed his father was also planning to add some spice to that day.
Chapter 24 The Levitation Charm, The Straw that Broke the Camel's Back
Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, it was the day before Halloween.
Jack-o'-lanterns were hung in the corridors of Hogwarts, and the air was filled with a sweet, cloying scent.
But Harry and Ron were in a terrible mood.
Hermione was completely ignoring them.
Whether in class or at the Library, she only had that mysterious notebook and Draco Malfoy by her side.
Harry and Ron had seen more than once during breaks Draco calling Hermione to a corner of the corridor, the two of them huddled together discussing something in low voices.
The expression on Hermione's face was one of focus they had never seen before, even tinged with admiration.
The fire in Ron's heart burned hotter and hotter.
In today's Charms Class, the diminutive Professor Flitwick stood on a pile of books, teaching the Levitation Charm in a high-pitched voice.
"Remember the wrist movement—swish and flick!"
"The incantation must be clear: 'Wingardium Leviosa'!"
A messy chorus of chanting filled the classroom.
Ron waved his wand as if shooing away an invisible fly.
"Wingardium Levios-ah!"
The feather in front of him only twitched.
"Wingardium Levios-ah!"
He swung his arm even more violently, the tip of his wand nearly poking Harry's nose.
"Stop it."
A crisp and extremely impatient voice came from beside him.
It was Hermione.
Even though she and Ron were sitting next to each other, it felt as if an invisible wall stood between them.
"Who are you trying to poke in the eye?" she said coldly.
"Besides, it's 'Levio-sa,' not 'Levio-sah.' Make the'sa' part nice and long."
Her tone left no room for negotiation; it was purely the correction of the strong towards the weak.
"Then you do it! Since you're so amazing!"
Being lectured like this in front of the whole class, Ron's face instantly turned the color of pig's liver, and he roared back.
Hermione gave a soft huff, not even bothering to argue with him.
She sat up straight and raised her wrist elegantly.
The movement was as perfect as a textbook.
Swish and flick.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
Her voice was steady, carrying a strange sense of rhythm.
The moment the words left her mouth, the feather in front of her floated up lightly.
One foot, two feet... it flew all the way up near the ceiling and hovered steadily.
"Oh! Wonderful!" Professor Flitwick clapped his hands excitedly and squealed.
"Look! Miss Granger has done it! Five points to Gryffindor!"
The whole class's eyes were fixed on Hermione and that feather, a mix of envy, jealousy, and wonder.
Ron felt his cheeks burning.
Once again, in front of everyone, he had been made to look like a complete idiot by Hermione.
In his eyes, this was all thanks to Draco Malfoy.
That Slytherin had stolen his friend and turned her into someone so... annoying!
The bell rang.
Students packed their books, preparing to go to the Great Hall.
Ron intentionally slowed his pace, leaning toward Harryand complaining loudly at a volume he thought Hermionecouldn't hear:
"She's a nightmare! Honestly!"
"No wonder she hasn't got any friends!"
Hermione, walking ahead of them, suddenly stopped in her tracks, her whole body freezing.
Those words, like a poisoned needle, pierced accurately into her heart.
Not a single friend.
Harry and Ron used to be. Now, they were using the most spiteful words to attack her.
Just because she had become stronger? Because she no longer tolerated their stupidity and rudeness?
A massive wave of grievance welled up in her throat.
She suddenly thought of Draco.
Draco would never say that about her.
He would only praise her talent, discuss the mysteries of magic with her, and when she was abandoned by the whole world, he would... gently kiss her forehead.
Why should she be hurt by these mediocre and malicious people?
Hermione's eyes instantly reddened, and tears welled up uncontrollably.
She didn't want them to see her cry.
She shoved past Ron, who was blocking her path, and clutching her books with her head down, she sprinted toward the girls bathroom.
"I think... she heard you," Harry said uneasily.
"So what?" Ron said stubbornly, though a flicker of awkwardness crossed his face.
This scene aligned perfectly with Draco's script.
But in Hermione's heart at this moment, that thorn was no longer loneliness, but the realization of the vast difference between heaven and hell.
By a stone pillar in the corridor not far away, Draco leaned there, taking everything in.
He watched Hermione's retreating figure as she ran away crying, his gaze devoid of any emotion.
Pansy Parkinson gloated beside him: "Serves her right! That mudblood should have cried a long time ago!"
Draco ignored her, not even sparing her a glance.
He didn't chase after her.
The time was not yet right.
A hero always appears at the most critical moment.
Now, the heroine was in place, having hidden in her "sanctuary" in tears.
The two idiot supporting characters had also sown the seeds of guilt.
Then, it was time... for the monster to appear... the Halloween feast.
On the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, thousands of black bats circled and flew.
The candlelight within the jack-o'-lanterns illuminated the mountains of delicacies on the long tables.
The students were boisterous, completely immersed in the holiday bustle.
Only at the Gryffindor table, Hermione Granger's seat was empty, glaringly obvious.
Harry and Ron were busy stuffing food into their mouths.
"Is she... still in the bathroom?" Harry asked in a low voice.
Ron, his mouth full of mashed potatoes, gave a muffled grunt: "Who knows."
Parvati Patil, sitting nearby, overheard and leaned in to say: "I just went to check. She's locked herself in a stall crying, and she won't open the door no matter how much I call."
Harry and Ron's hands holding their forks paused simultaneously.
A trace of guilt surfaced in their hearts, but it was quickly dispersed by the rich aroma of roast chicken.
"Then... we'll talk later?" Ron suggested.
Harry nodded and reached out for another piece of pumpkin pie.
At the other end, the Slytherin table.
Draco Malfoy was slowly and methodically cutting the steak on his plate with his knife and fork.
He didn't look toward the Gryffindor side once, but every movement there was clearly within his perception.
Hermione's absence was the first line of the script.
Now, he just needed an opportunity, one that would allow him to reasonably disappear from everyone's sight.
The opportunity had come.
Bang—!
The oak doors of the Great Hall were slammed open from the outside by a massive force.
All the noise came to a sudden halt as a thousand pairs of eyes turned toward the door in unison.
Professor Quirrell rushed in, his large purple turban slipping comically to the back of his head, his face devoid of color, and sweat soaking his bangs.
He staggered to the High Table, bracing his hands against it, and screamed in a hoarse, cracking voice: "Troll—! In the Dungeons—!"
He gasped for breath, then added a nonsensical sentence.
"—I thought you ought to know!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes rolled back, and he fell straight onto the floor, unconscious.
Dead silence.
A second later, the Great Hall exploded.
Screams erupted everywhere as terrified students jumped from their seats, knocking over benches and cutlery, the scene spiraling into total chaos.
"Si—lence!"
Dumbledore's voice was amplified by magic, steadily overpowering all the noise.
The old Principal stood up, his face showing not a hint of panic, his azure eyes scanning the room.
"prefects! Lead the students of your Houses back to your respective Common Rooms immediately!"
The command was clear and beyond question.
The prefects snapped out of it and immediately began loudly organizing the frightened students.
"Slytherin! Line up! Keep quiet!"
The Slytherin prefect reacted the fastest, jumping onto a bench and shouting directions.
The pure-blood family etiquette education played its part; although the Slytherin students were somewhat agitated, they quickly formed a line, ready to evacuate.
Draco blended into the middle of the line, his face wearing a nervous expression no different from those around him.
As the line passed a thick stone pillar, his figure swayed, and he silently melted into the shadows behind the pillar.
Chaos was the best curtain.
He watched the flow of Slytherins heading toward the Dungeons, then turned and looked toward the other side of the Castle.
Second floor, girls bathroom.
His "prey" for tonight was right there.
Draco stepped out from the shadows, his pace neither hurried nor slow.
The corridor leading to the second floor was deserted, with only the distant sound of chaotic footsteps and faint cries.
[Ding!]
In his mind, the cold mechanical voice sounded on cue.
[main quest Triggered!]
[Quest Name: The Troll's Elegy]
[Quest Objective: Under the gaze of all the teachers and students of Hogwarts, kill the adult Troll invading the Castle with overwhelming power and rescue Hermione Granger.]
Chapter 25: The Bathroom Battle God, Crying Counts as Time Too
Hermione locked herself in the innermost stall.
She hugged her knees, face buried in her arms, crying with muffled, rhythmic sobs.
"No wonder she doesn't have a single friend!"
Ron Weasley's freckled face, along with that sentence, kept spinning in her head.
Why?
She had only corrected his Levitation Charm, she only knew more than him.
Was that also a mistake?
She had thought that by being with Harry and Ron, she finally had friends.
It turned out she was the only one who thought so.
Draco Malfoy's face jumped out without warning.
He would never say that about her.
He would praise her for being clever, discuss the intricacies of charms with her, and look at her intently with those grey-blue eyes.
Hermione's tears fell even harder.
The Halloween feast outside should be very lively, with jack-o'-lanterns, flying bats, and endless sweets.
None of it had anything to do with her.
She cried until her throat was hoarse and her eyes were swollen and painful.
She sniffled hard and wiped her face haphazardly with her soaked sleeve.
It wasn't worth getting angry over someone like Ron.
She had to go out, go back to the dormitory, and look at the notes Draco lent her; there were still techniques in Ancient Runes she hadn't understood.
Hermione held onto the wooden door and stood up unsteadily.
She was about to unlock it.
Thump.
A loud bang came from the entrance of the lavatory, making the floor vibrate.
Hermione's movements stopped.
What was that sound?
Thump... thump... heavy footsteps approached one by one, each step feeling like a blow to her heart.
A foul stench seeped in through the gap under the door.
It was the smell of rotting meat mixed with smelly socks.
Hermione's stomach churned; she covered her mouth tightly, suppressing the urge to vomit.
This wasn't a student.
How could Hogwarts have such a thing?
A chill ran from the soles of her feet up her back.
She remembered Dumbledore's warning at the start of term, the Forbidden Area on the Fourth Floor... Hermionedidn't dare think further, her whole body stiff, holding her breath.
The footsteps stopped in the middle of the lavatory.
"Roar?"
A low, puzzled grunt.
Splash—Bang!
The sound of water and shattering porcelain mixed together, sharp and piercing.
Hermione crouched down and looked out from the gap at the bottom of the stall door.
A pair of massive feet, covered in filth.
They were two sizes larger than an adult man's, with grey-green skin covered in pustules.
Hermione's pupils shrank to pinpoints.
It was a Mountain Troll from the Potion textbook!
Her throat tightened; she couldn't utter a word.
Just then, the door of the stall she was in was gently pushed from the outside.
The door was locked and didn't budge.
"Hmm?"
A confused grunt from the Troll came from outside the door.
The next second.
Bang!
A large hole exploded in the center of the wooden door.
A green fist, dripping with slime and wood chips, stopped right in front of her nose.
The nails were thick and yellow.
Hermione's mind went blank.
The fist was withdrawn.
A tiny head peered through the hole, a pair of dull, small eyes looking at Hermione.
Their eyes met.
"Ah—"
The Troll ripped away the entire door, its massive body squeezing into the small stall, waving a wooden club longer than she was tall.
Hermione scrambled out of the stall on all fours, her feet slipping, falling into the standing water.
Looking back, the Troll was striding toward her.
Run! Run!
Only this thought remained in her mind as she scuffed backward on the slippery floor.
The Troll was in no hurry, waving its club and smashing everything it saw.
Bang!
An entire row of marble sinks turned into fragments.
Porcelain shards flew everywhere, pipes burst, and cold water gushed out, quickly flooding past her ankles.
A piece of broken porcelain grazed Hermione's cheek, leaving a burning sting.
The pain cleared her head a little.
Wand!
She reached for her waist—empty.
Turning her head, her wand was lying in the water not far away.
It must have fallen when she tripped just now.
She crawled desperately toward the wand.
The Troll noticed her movement, let out a low growl, and the massive wooden club came crashing down toward the wand's position with a rush of wind!
"No!" Hermione cried out.
Boom—!
The club fell, smashing the marble floor tiles.
Her wand was broken into two pieces.
Hermione slumped in the cold water, soaked through.
Hope was gone.
The Troll walked up to her step by step, its massive shadow looming over her.
The smell of death blew into her face.
Hermione closed her eyes.
Harry and Ron didn't know she was here.
She was going to die.
The club, accompanied by the sound of wind, fell toward the top of her head.
She instinctively raised her arms to shield her face.
Goodbye, Draco... Just a moment before the club was about to fall.
From outside the corridor came a flurry of hurried footsteps.
Bang—!
A dull thud, heavier than the Troll smashing the wall.
The oak door of the girls bathroom was blown off entirely, spinning and crashing into the back wall, exploding into a floor of splintered wood.
In the backlit doorway stood a slender figure.
A red light shot from the tip of his wand, accurately striking the wrist of the Troll's hand holding the club.
"Ow!"
The Troll howled in pain, its muscles spasming, and the club it couldn't hold flew out of its hand.
The club grazed Hermione's scalp and smashed into the side wall, blasting a large hole.
Rubble and dust showered over her.
She coughed violently, her ears ringing, and instinctively curled up.
But the expected impact didn't come.
Hermione opened her eyes tremblingly and, through the thick smoke, saw the person at the door.
Slytherin robes, meticulous, platinum-blonde short hair exceptionally striking in the dimness.
Draco Malfoy.
He had one hand in his pocket, his wand held level, with a wisp of blue smoke still rising from the tip.
Hermione's mind went blank for a moment.
The fear and despair that had filled her head just a second ago vanished inexplicably.
"Roar!"
The sharp pain in its wrist enraged the beast.
The Troll gave up on Hermione, turned around, and its blood-red small eyes locked onto the new target.
It roared, waving its other fist, and charged forward with large strides.
The floor vibrated under its trampling.
"Be careful!" Hermione had just shouted when she closed her own mouth.
Draco stood his ground, unmoving.
Just a moment before the Troll's fist was about to crush his nose, his figure suddenly became transparent and then completely disappeared.
Silent Disillusionment Charm?
Hermione's pupils contracted; that was N.E.W.Ts-level magic!
The Troll's punch missed, and its massive body stumbled forward several steps due to inertia.
It turned its head in confusion, searching for the person who had disappeared.
A slight breeze brushed past.
Draco's figure solidified again to the back-left of the Troll, his hair not even mussed.
In his peripheral vision was Hermione's small face, stained with blood and dust, full of shock.
His girl—how could she be made to look like this by such a filthy thing.
The Troll finally found him, picked up another spare club from the floor, and roared as it swept toward him.
A foul wind blew in his face.
Hermione screamed instinctively.
Draco only took a small step back, his body leaning slightly backward.
The heavy club swept past the tip of his nose, the resulting wind blowing a few strands of hair on his forehead.
The Troll's intelligence couldn't comprehend such an insult; it only knew its attack had missed again.
It went completely berserk.
Fists and clubs smashed down frantically toward Draco's position without any order.
Boom! Bang! Clang!
Mirrors shattered, stalls collapsed, pipes broke, and the entire space turned into a flooded ruin in the blink of an eye.
Draco moved amidst this destructive chaos.
Hermione was already stunned.
After sidestepping the Troll's charge once more, Draco's figure flashed, and he was already standing in front of Hermione.
The chaotic smashing and roaring sounds all receded.
"Don't be afraid, I'm here."
Hermione's tears welled up in her eyes once again.
Chapter 26: Kiss Me, or Kill Me
"Roar!"
The Troll swung its massive wooden club in a wide arc, putting all its strength into a vertical strike aimed straight at Draco's head!
The club whistled through the air with a foul wind, sealing off all possible escape routes.
It wanted to smash these two annoying little insects into meat paste together!
"Draco!"
Hermione's heart, which had just begun to settle, leaped back into her throat.
Draco finally raised his wand.
The tip of the wand traced a complex and elegant path in the air, silver light flowing and converging.
A few ancient, obscure syllables escaped his lips, low and clear.
"Boom!"
Just as the club was about to strike, a transparent barrier formed above his head, forcefully withstanding the thunderous blow!
Spiderweb-like cracks rapidly spread across the barrier, yet it stubbornly refused to shatter.
At the same time, Draco flicked his wrist, pointing his wand at the Troll's legs.
A concentrated red light of a spell shot out from his hand!
The Troll's body stiffened from the recoil of the impact, precisely exposing a weakness.
The red light accurately hit both of its knees!
"Crack!"
The ear-piercing sound of bone fracturing echoed throughout the bathroom.
The Troll's massive body lost its support; its knees buckled, and it knelt forward uncontrollably.
"Awoooo—!"
It let out a scream more shrill than any before, its giant body crashing to the floor and sending water splashing everywhere.
The entire bathroom floor shook violently.
Now!
A light flashed in Draco's eyes.
He tapped his toes on the ground, his body leaping lightly into the air, using the edge of a relatively intact sink to push off again.
Tracing a graceful arc through the air, he flipped directly onto the broad back of the Troll, which was lowered from kneeling.
The entire movement was as smooth as flowing water.
He landed steadily on the Troll's nape, looking down from above.
In pain, the Troll twisted its body frantically, trying to throw him off.
Draco's feet, however, were like nails, firmly planted on its skin without moving an inch.
He raised his wand.
The tip of the wand pointed at the Troll's defenseless back of the head.
"It's over, you filthy beast."
He announced softly.
A blinding white light erupted from the tip of the wand.
A solid beam of white light poured out from the wand tip, striking the back of the Troll's head at point-blank range.
The Troll's roar came to an abrupt halt.
Its small head, as if hit head-on by a battering ram, caved inward entirely.
The massive body suddenly stiffened, then, like a building with its foundation removed, it crashed forward.
"Rumble—!"
The twelve-foot-tall massive body slammed heavily onto the ground.
The floor could no longer hold, cracking and collapsing in large sections.
The Troll's limbs twitched twice, and then all movement ceased entirely.
Those dull, small eyes were now lifeless.
Dead.
An adult Mountain Troll had been cleanly and efficiently killed by a first-year student.
[Ding!]
A cold electronic voice sounded in Draco's mind.
[Detected that the host has independently killed a high-threat magical creature (Adult Mountain Troll) for the first time!]
[Mission Evaluation: Perfect!]
[Reward Issued: +2000 Points! Special Constitution Trait—'Troll's Strength (Novice)' has been unlocked!]
['Troll's Strength (Novice)': Basic strength and physical endurance slightly increased; grants additional resistance to blunt force physical damage.]
A warm current spread through his limbs and bones; his muscles and skeleton were undergoing a transformation, becoming tougher.
Draco hopped lightly off the Troll's corpse, landing steadily in the standing water; the splash didn't even wet his trouser legs.
He put away his wand, sliding it back into the inner pocket of his robes.
Raising his hand, he used his fingers to comb through his platinum blond hair, which had been tousled by the combat's air currents, restoring his usual elegance and composure.
It was as if what he had just accomplished was merely a trivial matter.
The entire bathroom finally fell quiet, leaving only the sound of rushing water from the broken pipes.
Hermione was still slumped on the spot, staring blankly at everything before her.
Staring at the boy standing in the center of the ruins, looking like a deity.
Her mind was a complete blank.
Until Draco turned around and looked at her.
Those grey-blue eyes, in the dimness, reflected her disheveled state.
At that moment, all her emotions burst through the floodgates.
"Draco..."
She choked out his name.
The next second, she scrambled up from the cold water like crazy, rushing toward him recklessly.
She slammed hard into his embrace.
The force was so great that even Draco took half a step back.
He instinctively reached out with one hand, wrapping it around her waist to catch her steadily.
The girl in his arms was shaking all over.
Dripping hair, cold robes, and the wet tear tracks on her face.
She gripped the front of his robes tightly, like a drowning person clutching a final straw, burying her face in his chest and crying out loud.
There was no longer any restraint in her crying; it was a total release after surviving a disaster.
Draco could clearly feel the softness and trembling of her body.
The unique fragrance of a young girl, mixed with the saltiness of tears and the stench of the bathroom, drifted into his nostrils.
He didn't speak, simply letting her hold him while one hand gently patted her trembling back.
Hermione's heart was beating so fast it felt like it would jump out of her chest.
Her nose was filled with Draco's crisp, pleasant scent—like winter cedar mixed with cologne.
This scent dispelled all the foul odors brought by the Troll.
It also filled her entire world.
She only wanted to be a little closer to him now, just a little closer.
Just as the atmosphere in the bathroom became thick and ambiguous...
"Hermione! Hermione! Are you in there?"
Harry Potter's anxious voice came from the corridor outside, accompanied by the sound of disorganized footsteps.
Followed by Ron Weasley's out-of-breath complaining.
"Harry, keep it down! What if that Troll is still..."
Before he could finish, the two had already rushed to the door of the smashed bathroom.
Then, they stopped.
The scene before them left their minds completely blank.
The bathroom was a mess; broken porcelain and wooden debris covered the floor, and the burst pipes were still hissing with leaking water.
A massive Mountain Troll lay in the center of the floor, motionless, the back of its head completely caved in, dead as could be.
And in the very center of the ruins... that Slytherin they hated most, Draco Malfoy, was shielding Hermione Granger in his arms.
Hermione was looking up at Draco, her face covered in tear tracks. That look in her eyes was a level of reliance and... admiration they had never seen before.
Draco had his head lowered, one hand still placed comfortingly on Hermione's back.
Harry and Ron were completely stunned.
What was going on?
They had run here to be heroes, but now they looked more like two idiots who had wandered onto the wrong set.
"You guys..."
Ron opened his mouth, but couldn't say a single word.
Just then, another set of more hurried footsteps arrived.
"Oh my! Merlin's beard!"
Professor McGonagall was the first to rush in. Seeing the carnage inside and the Troll's corpse, her face went pale.
Professor Snape, behind her, saw that Draco was unharmed and his tense expression softened slightly, but as his gaze swept over the Troll's corpse, it glinted with coldness.
Professor Quirrell, who entered last, looked as if his soul had been snatched away upon seeing the dead Troll; he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes full of shock.
"What happened?!" Professor McGonagall's voice was sharp and high.
"Miss Granger! Mr. Malfoy! Why are you here? This Troll..."
Hearing the Professor's voice, Hermione seemed to snap out of it, quickly backing out of Draco's embrace, her cheeks burning hot.
But her hand still instinctively gripped Draco's sleeve.
Before Hermione could speak, Draco had already stepped forward and bowed slightly.
"Professor."
His voice was steady and calm.
"During the feast, I noticed Miss Granger was missing. I was worried she didn't know about the Troll and that it would be dangerous for her to be out alone, so I came to find her."
He looked at Hermione with just the right amount of concern.
"When I arrived, the Troll was just about to attack her."
"Yes... yes, Professor!" Hermione reacted immediately, joining in with a sob.
"I... my stomach was upset, so I came to the bathroom. I had no idea about the Troll."
She was clever; she didn't mention she had hidden away because Ron had made her cry.
"If Malfoy hadn't arrived in time... I... I might have..."
As she spoke, her body began to shake again, tears falling once more, and she shrunk closer to Draco's side.
This display of extreme shock was more powerful than any evidence.
Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione's pale face, then at the massive corpse on the floor, and patted her chest in lingering fear.
She looked at Draco, her eyes full of approval.
"You... you killed it?"
"In the heat of the moment, I had no other choice," Dracoreplied modestly.
At this point, Professor Snape, who had remained silent, spoke up. His dark gaze scraped over Harry and Ron at the door like a knife.
"It seems our great savior, Mr. Potter, and his loyal Mr. Weasley, are of no use other than running around the corridors making noise."
His voice was laden with mockery.
"While a Slytherin student is saving a life, the Gryffindors arrive late."
Harry and Ron's faces instantly turned bright red.
They wanted to argue back, but couldn't find a single word. The facts were right before them.
"Severus!" Professor McGonagall frowned, but didn't say much. After all, Draco had saved her student.
She turned to Draco, admiration showing on her stern face.
"Mr. Malfoy, you were brave and calm, and you saved your classmate. Your actions have brought honor to Slytherin."
"Fifty points to Slytherin!"
Fifty points! A high score never before achieved by a first-year.
Then, she turned back to Harry and Ron at the door, her expression becoming stern again.
"And you two! After receiving orders to return to your common room, you were still wandering the Castle! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"
"Five points from Gryffindor for your recklessness!"
Ron's fists were clenched tight; he stared fixedly at Draco, who was being praised by the Professor and relied upon by Hermione, his eyes turning red with envy.
Why! Why did he get all the good things!
Harry felt equally terrible. He looked at Hermione.
Hermione happened to look over as well.
That gaze was very unfamiliar; there was none of the previous closeness, only a cold disappointment.
Then, Hermione turned her head and looked back at Draco.
The expression on her face changed instantly; that bit of coldness vanished without a trace, replaced by softness and docility.
Harry's heart sank abruptly.
He knew that something had been completely smashed by that Troll tonight.
Between the three of them, there was no going back.
Chapter 27: Not Going to the Hospital Wing Tonight, the Princess Carry is Mandatory
"Alright, this area is to be cordoned off."
Professor McGonagall waved her wand and began using Transfiguration to clear the rubble from the scene.
She glanced at Hermione, who was still pale and shaken, her tone softening slightly.
"Miss Granger, you're injured. It would be best to go to the Hospital Wing and have Madam Pomfrey check you over."
Go to the Hospital Wing?
Hermione's grip on Draco's arm tightened suddenly.
She didn't want to go to that cold place, much less face those strange-smelling Potions alone.
She only wanted to stay by Draco's side.
Only then did she feel safe.
The tightening of her grip on his arm let Dracounderstand her thoughts instantly.
He took a step forward, positioning himself right between Professor McGonagall and Hermione.
"Professor, what Miss Granger needs right now isn't Potions, but peace and quiet."
Draco's voice was steady as his gaze swept over Harry, Ron, and the growing crowd of students at the door.
"The Hospital Wing is full of wagging tongues; leaving her there alone would only make her more uneasy."
Professor McGonagall understood the deeper meaning behind his words.
A girl encountering a Troll in the bathroom in the middle of the night—if word got out, there would inevitably be some nasty rumors.
Draco was protecting Hermione's reputation.
"Besides," Draco continued, "she only has superficial injuries and a bit of a shock. It's better to have a 'friend' with her than to face Madam Pomfrey alone."
He spoke the word 'friend' with meaningful emphasis.
Professor McGonagall hesitated and looked at Hermione, seeking her opinion.
Hermione shook her head like a rattle.
"No, Professor, I don't want to go to the Hospital Wing," the girl's voice carried a hint of a sob, sounding exceptionally pitiful.
"I want... to stay with Draco."
She gripped Draco's arm even tighter, as if he would disappear if she let go.
This display of total dependence made the situation clear to everyone present.
Harry's expression turned very sour.
Ron's lips trembled with anger.
"Alright," Professor McGonagall finally compromised.
The victim's wishes should be respected.
Snape, standing nearby, gave a cold snort and waved his hand dismissively.
"Malfoy, take Granger back to her common room and ensure her safety."
This counted as official permission.
"Yes, Dean," Draco nodded slightly.
"Get some rest early, Miss Granger. If you feel any discomfort, go to the Hospital Wing immediately," Professor McGonagall added a final reminder.
"Thank you, Professor."
After saying his goodbyes, Draco supported Hermioneand, under the complex gazes of everyone, turned to leave the chaotic scene.
Harry and Ron could only watch helplessly as the two figures disappeared at the end of the corridor.
"Bang!"
Ron punched the wall.
"That bastard!"
Harry said nothing, his gaze fixed darkly on the Troll's corpse... On the other side.
As soon as they were out of sight, Hermione's tense nerves completely gave way.
Her legs went weak, and she began to slide toward the floor.
Draco reacted with lightning speed, extending his arm to catch her firmly around the waist.
"Can you still walk?" he asked in a low voice.
Hermione shook her head, feeling as if her legs were made of lead.
Draco glanced at the empty corridor and, without a moment's hesitation, bent down, slipped his arms under her knees and back, and lifted her up in a Princess Carry.
"Ah!"
Hermione let out a soft cry, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.
The momentary panic of being lifted was quickly replaced by the warmth of a solid chest.
Her cheek pressed uncontrollably against Draco's chest; through his robes, she could clearly hear the heartbeat coming from within.
Thump, thump, thump.
One after another, steady and clear.
Heat spread from her cheeks all the way to her ears. Embarrassed, Hermione buried her face in his chest, not daring to look up at him.
Draco carried her without a single pause in his step, incredibly steady.
The strength granted by that Troll made carrying a girl effortless for him.
The soft, warm body in his arms and the cool touch of her arms around his neck caused his breathing to grow slightly heavier.
Hermione asked softly in his arms, "Are we... not going back to the common room?"
She realized Draco was heading the wrong way—neither toward Gryffindor Tower nor the Slytherin Dungeon, but higher up into the Castle.
"Back to the common room?" Draco's deep voice sounded above her head.
"Are you sure you could sleep? What happened tonight will be all over Hogwarts by tomorrow. The moment you go back, you'll be drowned in countless curious and sympathetic looks."
Hermione's body stiffened.
Draco was telling the truth; she didn't want to face that.
"Then where are we going?" she asked uneasily.
Draco didn't answer.
He carried her all the way up to the eighth floor to a corridor with a tapestry of 'Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by Trolls'.
There was no one there.
Draco set Hermione down gently, but his hand still supported her waist, letting her lean against him.
The bare stone wall in front of them began to change.
The stones moved and rearranged themselves, and a wooden door carved with exquisite patterns appeared out of thin air.
Draco turned his head, looking down at the girl in his arms, her cheeks flushed and her eyes a mix of confusion and wonder.
In his grey-blue eyes, there was a light of absolute determination.
"We're here."
He said softly, then took her hand and pushed open the mysterious door.
What met their eyes was a warm, luxurious suite.
The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, crackling and bathing the room in a warm yellow glow.
In the center of the room was a large bed covered in velvet bedding, looking so inviting one would want to sink right into it.
The air held a faint scent of incense, which helped relax the nerves.
Draco closed the door, and the panel merged into the wall, vanishing from sight and completely cutting them off from the outside world.
"You need a sanctuary tonight where you won't be disturbed."
He led Hermione to the bedside.
"Sit."
Hermione sat down obediently, her body immediately sinking into the soft mattress.
Draco didn't sit; he drew his wand and gave it a gentle flick toward her.
"Scourgify."
A wave of gentle magic washed over Hermione's entire body.
The water, dust, and bloodstains on her robes vanished into thin air, and her messy hair became dry and smooth again.
She was refreshed, with only the tiny scratch on her cheek and her pale complexion remaining as evidence of her earlier ordeal.
Draco put away his wand and knelt on one knee before the bed, lifting his hand to gently brush his thumb over the wound on her face.
The movement was light, filled with tenderness.
As his warm fingertips touched her cold skin, Hermione's body gave a slight shiver.
"Does it hurt?" he asked in a low voice.
Hermione shook her head, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on him.
The distance was so close that she could see her small, bedraggled reflection in his grey-blue pupils.
In those eyes was a focus she had never seen before.
The grievances of being hurt by Ron during the day, the terror of facing the Troll at night, the lingering fear after the escape, and the gratitude for being saved by him... all these emotions were ignited by the temperature of his fingertips, suddenly breaking through the dam.
Hermione's eyes turned red once more.
This time she didn't cry out loud, but tears fell like broken strings of pearls, one after another.
"I... I thought I was going to die," she finally spoke, her voice raspy and thick with nasality.
"It was so big... so smelly... my wand broke..."
She began to speak incoherently, pouring out all the accumulated fear and despair in her heart.
"Ron was right, I am a nightmare... I don't have a single friend... otherwise, back then, I wouldn't have been able to think of anyone..."
"He was wrong."
Draco interrupted her, his voice not loud but exceptionally firm.
He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.
"You're not a nightmare, Hermione."
"You're smarter than all of them; it's their stupidity and jealousy that caused you to get hurt."
His words were like a precise spell, hitting the most vulnerable part of Hermione's heart.
Yes! That's it!
It's not my fault!
They're just too stupid!
"Gryffindor isn't for you," Draco's voice dropped even lower, echoing in her ear with a seductive magnetism. "Their recklessness will only drag you down."
"You need someone who can keep up with you, even lead you."
"Someone... who understands you."
He moved even closer, his warm breath fanning across Hermione's cheek.
"Only I understand you, Hermione."
"And only I can protect you."
Hermione's breathing was completely erratic.
Her mind was entirely consumed by his last sentence.
Yes, only him. He understood her, appreciated her, and protected her.
The last shred of reason snapped.
Not knowing where the strength came from, Hermionesuddenly lunged forward and used her lips to block his thin lips, which were still uttering temptations.
A glint of a successful plan flashed in the depths of Draco's eyes, but he didn't immediately retaliate.
He let the clumsy girl bite and nibble at his lips without any technique.
It wasn't until Hermione's body went weak from lack of oxygen and she began to pull back slightly that Dracomade his move.
He cupped the back of her head, giving her no chance to breathe as he kissed her again.
This time, the initiative changed hands.
This kiss was no longer a feather-light touch on the forehead; it was a deep kiss filled with aggression and possession.
He pried open her lips and teeth, carrying the lingering scent of hot cocoa as he swept through every inch of her mouth.
Hermione's body went completely limp, allowing him to conquer her territory.
He took the opportunity to press her down, and they both sank into the velvet bed.
The belt of her robes had come loose at some point, and the girl's skin was radiating a slight heat.
Draco's hand sent a jolt through her whole body.
Hermione's breathing became more and more rapid, an unnatural flush appeared on her face, and uncontrollable soft moans escaped her throat.
In her mind, a voice rang out.
[Bond level has broken through the critical point.]
[Favorability: Total Submission (100/100).]
It was done.
Just before that final step, Draco stopped.
He slowly withdrew his hand and, amidst her faint whimpers, pulled her sweaty, heated body tightly into his arms.
"Sleep."
His voice sounded in her ear, carrying a hint of deliberately suppressed raspiness.
"You've had a fright tonight."
Now was not the time.
Moreover, what he wanted was far more than just her body.
Tonight was enough.
Hermione opened her eyes in confusion, her physical exhaustion and extreme mental relaxation making it impossible for her to think.
She simply adjusted her position obediently, curling up in his arms like a kitten.
Her nose was filled with the pleasant scent of fir from his body.
Her ears were filled with his steady and powerful heartbeat.
She closed her eyes and almost immediately sank into a deep sleep.
Draco looked down at the girl's peaceful sleeping face in his arms and pressed a final goodnight kiss onto her smooth forehead.
From tonight on, the smartest Witch in Hogwarts belonged entirely to Draco Malfoy.