Chapter 28: Official Announcement? No, It's a Declaration of Sovereignty.
The next day, the morning light was faint.
Hermione's eyelashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes.
An arm lay across her waist, heavy, and a patch of warm skin was pressed against her chest.
Everything from last night rushed back in an instant.
She didn't move, just tilted her head slightly to look at the person beside her.
Draco was still sleeping.
His platinum blonde hair was scattered across his forehead, and his lips, usually pursed, were now slightly parted, his breathing steady.
Hermione extended her index finger, and her fingertip lightly slid from the bridge of his high nose to the outline of his lips.
The moment her fingertip touched the corner of his mouth, Draco's eyes opened.
Those grey-blue eyes were very clear in the morning light, though still misty from sleep.
Their eyes met.
Hermione's finger froze.
"Morning." Draco's voice was very raspy, carrying a lethal sexiness.
The corner of his mouth twitched up.
Hermione's cheeks heated up rapidly, "...Morning."
Draco didn't say anything else; he just leaned down and pressed a kiss onto her lips, very light, carrying the scent of early morning.
At that very moment, a stream of information flooded into Draco's mind.
[Core Target Hermione Granger, Conquest Level 100%, physical and mental submission.]
[Bond Relationship Solidified: Absolute Loyalty.]
[Replicating Core Talent... Success.]
[Obtained Talent: Photographic Memory.]
Instantly, Draco felt his mind become crystal clear.
The Potion recipes and Ancient Runes he had once flipped through and long since forgotten became incredibly clear, etched into his brain.
This feeling... was great.
In an excellent mood, he pulled the girl in his arms closer and gave her another kiss.
"Time to get up, my little bookworm. We need to go get breakfast."
"Mm..." Hermione nuzzled into his chest, not wanting to move at all.
The two of them lingered for a good while before slowly getting out of bed.
The Room of Requirement had already prepared brand-new school uniforms and toiletries for them.
Draco stood before the mirror, unhurriedly tying his tie.
Hermione walked over, naturally taking the tie from his hands, standing on her tiptoes to help him adjust it.
Her movements were a bit clumsy, but her expression was very focused.
Draco looked down at her serious profile and her slightly reddened earlobes, and his heart softened.
Once they were both fully dressed and had confirmed no marks were left on their bodies, Draco drew his wand and tapped Hermione's neck lightly.
A Confundo charm covered the few hickeys left from last night.
Now, they looked no different from any other student getting up early for class.
But only they knew that everything had changed.
Hermione's aura was completely different.
When she walked beside Draco, her back was straight and her chin was slightly tilted up; she was no longer that somewhat awkward girl.
Her eyes were filled with confidence.
As the two walked out of the Room of Requirement, the grand door behind them vanished silently.
There were already early-rising students in the corridor.
A few Ravenclaw girls, clutching their books, were coming from the other end.
When they saw Draco Malfoy and Hermione Grangerwalking side-by-side from a blank wall, they all stopped in their tracks.
What shocked them even more was that Draco naturally took Hermione's hand.
Their fingers intertwined.
Hermione didn't shy away at all; instead, she gripped his hand tighter.
Ignoring the shocked expressions of the girls, the two walked past them without looking aside.
Whispers immediately erupted behind them.
"Heavens... am I seeing this right?"
"Malfoy and Granger?"
"They were together last night..."
"Hermione Granger didn't return to the dormitory all night! Parvati was looking for her this morning!"
This explosive piece of gossip grew wings and flew across all of Hogwarts before breakfast even began.
The Slytherin purebloods were dumbfounded.
The clever Ravenclaws were bursting with curiosity.
The honest Hufflepuffs were buzzing with discussion.
When the news reached Gryffindor Tower—
*Clang!*
Ron Weasley's hand shook, and the cup in his hand fell to the floor, shattering into pieces.
He glared at the classmate who brought the news and roared, "What did you say?! Hermione... is with Malfoy? And she didn't come back all night?"
Harry Potter sat across from him, saying nothing, but the veins on the back of his hand holding his fork bulged.
He remembered the look Hermione had given him last night.
Elsewhere, on the way to the Great Hall.
"From today on, you are my eyes in Gryffindor," Dracosaid softly.
"Mm," Hermione nodded without hesitation.
"Tell me every move Harry Potter makes, especially his contact with Dumbledore."
"Okay," Hermione agreed readily.
Betraying Gryffindor?
It started from the moment Ron roared those words last night and Harry didn't say a single word to defend her.
It started from when the two of them arrived late and watched as she was taken away by someone else.
Gryffindor had already betrayed her first.
Now, she was simply choosing a faction that truly belonged to her... Autumn had deepened at Hogwarts, and the weather grew colder by the day.
The rumors about Draco Malfoy and Hermione Grangerhad become the hottest topic in the Castle.
In Charms Class, when Professor Flitwick asked a question, she was no longer the first to raise her hand.
In Potion Class, she just quietly prepared her ingredients, no longer rushing to correct Harry or Ron's mistakes.
She spent all her time and energy doing one thing—taking notes.
And she took two sets.
One was for herself, and the other was specially prepared for Draco.
Using different colors of ink, she marked all the key points, difficulties, and her own insights and extensions for every course.
Every night, she would find an opportunity to give these notes, which represented her heart and soul, to Draco.
In return, Draco would "gift" her some more advanced and interesting magical knowledge.
The relationship between them became an open secret.
Harry Potter once tried to win her back.
Once, he cornered Hermione in the Library.
"Hermione, we can talk?" he asked, gathering his courage.
Hermione looked up from a thick copy of Advanced Charm-Making, looking at him with a polite but distant gaze.
"Talk about what, Potter?"
She didn't even call him Harry anymore.
"About... us, and Ron," Harry's voice was a bit dry. "We're still friends, aren't we?"
"Friends?"
Hermione gave a soft laugh, one that contained a hint of mockery that Harry couldn't understand.
"Where were my 'friends' when I was trapped in the bathroom by a Troll and almost died?"
"Where were my 'friends' when I was being attacked by your most mean-spirited words?"
Harry was left speechless.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, we..."
"There's no need."
Hermione closed her book and stood up.
"We aren't the same kind of people, Potter. We weren't in the past, and we certainly aren't now."
She clutched her books and walked past him without a second glance.
Harry froze in place, feeling something inside him shatter completely.
The Gryffindor Golden Trio existed in name only.
With the falling of the first snow, the Quidditch season officially kicked off.
The first match was the highly anticipated Gryffindorversus Slytherin.
The training intensity for the Slytherin Quidditch team increased sharply.
Captain Flint was like a tyrant, drilling the team members to exhaustion every day.
But there was one exception.
Draco Malfoy.
"Malfoy! Knock him aside!"
Flint roared on the training pitch.
A Slytherin chaser was trying to break through Draco's defense.
Draco didn't even bother to dodge.
Riding his Nimbus 2000, he flew straight into the opponent.
*Thump!*
A dull thud echoed.
The chaser, who was half a head taller than Draco, felt like he had hit a wall.
Both player and broom were sent flying, spinning several times in the air before he managed to stabilize himself.
Meanwhile, Draco didn't even wobble.
"Merlin's beard!" Flint looked at the scene in shock.
When did Malfoy get so strong?
He didn't look like a first-year at all; he looked like a fully developed adult Beater!
Draco felt the power surging through his body; it was the physical advantage brought by "Troll Strength."
In high-speed flight combat, this advantage was magnified infinitely.
He was now the most indestructible mobile fortress on the Slytherin team.
After training ended, Draco returned to the Slytherincommon room.
Ignoring the reverent gazes of his teammates, he walked straight to the floor-to-ceiling window.
Outside, heavy snow was falling, coating the edge of the Forbidden Forest in silver.
The surface of the Black Lake had also frozen over with a thin layer of ice.
He took his wand from his pocket, idly twirling it in his hand.
In his mind, he was plotting the show that was about to take place on the Quidditch Pitch.
Merely winning was too boring.
What he wanted was to completely destroy Harry Potter's pathetic confidence as the "savior" in front of all the teachers and students, in the most humiliating way possible.
He would make him the biggest joke in Hogwarts.
His gaze swept around the common room.
Finally, it landed on a figure by the fireplace.
Pansy Parkinson.
She was sitting with several Slytherin girls, chatting excitedly about the latest wizarding fashion magazines.
But her eyes couldn't help but drift toward him.
An interesting idea suddenly popped into Draco's head.
How could a perfect victory be complete without the most magnificent accompaniment?
An exclusive Slytherin cheerleading squad that served only him.
This idea seemed quite good.
And the candidate for captain was none other than Pansy Parkinson.
This woman was completely obedient to him and had absolute influence among the Slytherin girls.
Draco made up his mind.
He put away his wand and strode toward the fireplace.
Seeing him approach, Pansy immediately stopped talking to her friends and sat up straight nervously, like a puppy waiting for its master's instructions.
"Draco..." she whispered.
Draco stopped in front of her, looking down at her.
He didn't speak, just quietly scrutinized her with his grey-blue eyes.
Pansy felt flustered under his gaze, her cheeks burning.
"Draco, do you... need something?"
A wicked smile curled on Draco's lips.
He leaned down, close to Pansy's ear, and whispered:
"Pansy."
"Do you want to... put on a beautiful short skirt and dance in front of the whole school, just for me?"
Chapter 29: Wear a Short Skirt, For the Glory of Slytherin!
Pansy forgot to breathe.
What was Draco saying?
Dancing? In a short skirt?
Just for him alone?
Her nails dug deep into the leather armrest of the sofa. Her makeup was exquisite, but her complexion fluctuated wildly between flushed red and pale white.
Draco watched her reaction with satisfaction.
"I need a leader."
Pansy froze.
"Slytherin's victories need cheering."
"Gryffindor's failures need mockery."
Draco's voice carried a peculiar seductive quality.
"I want to hear the most synchronized cheers from the stands every time Slytherin scores."
"I'm going to form a cheerleading squad."
"What do you think, Pansy?"
Pansy's eyes lit up instantly.
She understood Draco's unspoken words almost immediately.
"A team that serves only you, Draco," she added, her voice trembling with excitement.
Draco nodded approvingly; Pansy always caught his meaning right away.
"It's not just about cheering."
With a slight flick of his fingers, Draco pointed the tip of his wand at a piece of charcoal in the fireplace.
The charcoal instantly turned silver-green, and the Slytherin serpent crest flashed briefly upon it before vanishing.
"This is a display of Slytherin taste."
He leaned back leisurely in his chair, his gaze sweeping over the pure-blood descendants in the common room.
"We're going to show all of Hogwarts exactly how different we are from those paupers in Gryffindor wearing old robes."
"While Harry Potter is still gloating over his second-hand broomstick, we'll make sure he knows he's not even qualified to look up at us."
Every word Draco spoke ignited the deepest desires in Pansy's heart.
She wanted to be the most obedient tool in Draco's hands.
"I understand, Draco."
Pansy stood up and gave a deep bow.
"I will assemble the most noble squad Hogwarts has ever seen for you."
"Very good."
Draco was satisfied with her attitude.
"The captain will be you," he said, tossing out the position casually.
Pansy's body swayed, hit by a wave of immense surprise.
"Captain!"
Captain of the squad that belonged only to Draco!
"I... I will never let you down!" Her voice carried a hint of a sob.
"Of course," Draco's tone brooked no argument. "You pick the members, but I set the standards."
"Yes!"
"First, pure-blood. Or, their family must have enough weight among half-bloods." Draco held up one finger.
Pansy nodded vigorously, carving the words into her mind.
"Second, looks and figure—both must be the best." Draco's gaze swept over her scrutinizingly.
"Every member of the squad is a piece of art."
Pansy subconsciously straightened her back.
"Third, and most importantly," Draco lowered his voice.
"Their families must be useful to the Malfoy Family, or already serving the Malfoy Family."
"This squad is the prototype of our future power base."
Pansy's heart felt like it was about to explode.
Draco... he was sharing his ambitions with her! This excited her more than any reward.
"I'll get to it immediately!" Pansy turned to leave, unable to wait any longer.
"Wait," Draco called her back. "Do you have candidates in mind?"
Pansy stopped instantly, her mind racing.
"Millicent Bulstrode. Her father works in the Ministry of Magic, and she has always been very..." Pansy chose her word, "admiring of you."
"Tracey Davis. Her mother is a Potion master."
"And..." Pansy hesitated.
"Who?"
"Daphne Greengrass."
As Pansy spoke the name, she could feel several gazes in the common room drift over.
That blonde girl who was always reading alone, cold as a block of ice.
"Oh?" Draco arched an eyebrow, his interest piqued.
"She meets the first two criteria," Pansy said with a troubled expression.
"But Draco... Daphne is too proud. I'm afraid she won't be willing to do this kind of thing; she'll think it's... beneath her."
In pure-blood circles, Daphne Greengrass's cold arrogance was famous.
"Beneath her?"
Draco laughed, his voice full of contempt.
"No, Pansy. They aren't pleasing anyone; they are declaring victory."
"As for arrogance..."
Draco stood up, walked over to Pansy, and looked down at her.
"Don't you think that watching an iceberg melt bit by bit before you is the most interesting sense of conquest?"
The light in his eyes made Pansy's cheeks burn and her heart race out of control.
"But... she won't agree."
"That will depend on your skill."
Draco pulled a roll of parchment from his robe pocket and tossed it into Pansy's arms.
"This is?" Pansy unfurled it in confusion.
It was covered in dense tables and data.
She understood it quickly.
It showed to what extent the Greengrass Family's Potioningredient business had relied on the Malfoy Family's trade routes over the last three months.
The data was terrifying.
If the Malfoy Family cut off the channels, the Greengrass Family's business would be finished within a month.
"Mr. Greengrass is a smart man, but unfortunately his ambition is too great and he's overextended himself," Draco's voice came slowly.
"This document should be enough to teach the proud Miss Greengrass the meaning of 'collective honor'."
Pansy gripped the parchment tightly.
"I understand, Draco."
Pansy bowed again, the fanaticism in her eyes nearly overflowing.
Clutching the parchment, she turned and walked toward another corner of the common room, where Millicent Bulstrode and several Slytherin girls were gathered, talking.
Pansy's appearance caused them to stop their conversation.
"Pansy, what's wrong?" Millicent asked.
Pansy didn't speak; she only gestured with her eyes for them to follow her to a quieter place.
Soon, the circle of girls was buzzing.
Forming an exclusive cheerleading squad for Draco? And wearing special uniforms?
Some immediately showed intense interest; this was the best opportunity to get close to Draco.
Others hesitated, worried that making such a public appearance would damage their lady-like reputation.
"This is Draco's order."
With one sentence, Pansy suppressed all discussion.
"Being chosen is your honor. Those who want to participate, come to me to sign up; I will be screening."
On the other side, Goyle and Crabbe, the two lackeys, leaned in to try and eavesdrop.
"Get lost!" Pansy barked at them without ceremony. "This isn't for you to know."
She had to keep Draco's plan a secret.
Having handled most of them, Pansy took a deep breath and walked toward the toughest nut to crack.
Daphne Greengrass was sitting by the window, holding a thick copy of "Advanced Analysis of Ancient Runes".
There seemed to be an invisible wall around her, cutting off all sound.
Pansy walked up to her, a shadow falling across the table.
Daphne didn't look up, merely turning a page of her book.
*Knock, knock.*
Pansy rapped her knuckles on the tabletop.
The crisp sound finally elicited a reaction from the blonde girl.
Daphne slowly raised her head.
Her gaze fell on Pansy's face, filled with inquiry and a hint of impatience.
Pansy didn't say a word.
She simply took the roll of parchment that recorded the lifeblood of the Greengrass Family and gently slapped it onto the copy of "Advanced Analysis of Ancient Runes".
A negotiation had begun.
Chapter 30: Draco's Scheme, Defeating You with Your Own Pride
"I refuse."
Daphne didn't even look at the parchment on the table, staring only at Pansy as she spoke the three words with absolute clarity.
Pansy seemed to have expected her to say this; not surprised at all, she instead leisurely pulled out the chair opposite Daphne and sat down.
"Wearing that kind of revealing short skirt, twisting around in front of the whole school like a clown?"
Daphne's lips curled into a sneer full of mockery.
"Parkinson, what exactly did Malfoy give you to make you so invested in such a degrading activity?"
"This matter shames the Greengrass Family."
"Shame?"
Pansy repeated the word, her tone carrying an indescribable strangeness.
"Daphne, have you still not figured it out?"
She extended a finger and tapped on the roll of parchment on the table.
"Draco asked me to give you a message."
Pansy leaned forward, her voice kept very low.
"This isn't dancing; it's a 'clarion call for war'."
"Slytherin's warriors are fighting hard on the field; we need our strength in the stands as well."
"If the Greengrass Family can't even show this much collective sense of honor..."
"Then, the House of Malfoy might have to re-evaluate whether our business partner is 'loyal' enough."
Daphne's face turned visibly pale.
The cold composure she had maintained in her beautiful blue eyes finally cracked.
Of course, she knew her family's current situation.
She remembered her father's sighing at the dinner table and his repeated instructions that she must maintain a good relationship with Draco Malfoy.
The Malfoy Family was someone the Greengrass Familyabsolutely could not afford to offend right now.
But... she couldn't do it!
To make her like Pansy and the others, shaking her hips and twisting her waist to please a man?
Even if it was Draco Malfoy, it wouldn't do!
Her pride wouldn't allow it.
"Is this a threat?" Daphne's voice trembled slightly.
"No." Pansy shook her head, leaning back lazily against the chair, "This is a reminder."
"A reminder to you, Daphne, of what pure-blood responsibility is. The family is always more important than your personal face."
"You..."
Daphne was so angry her chest felt tight, unable to catch her breath.
Just then, a set of unhurried footsteps approached.
At some point, Draco had already walked up to their table.
He looked at no one, naturally sitting down on the empty sofa opposite Pansy, crossing his legs and playing with his wand.
He looked as if he were just passing by to take a rest.
The originally noisy sounds in the Common Roomsuddenly vanished.
Everyone's eyes were glued to him.
"I heard,"
Draco's voice wasn't loud, but it clearly drifted into everyone's ears.
"Gryffindor's Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born, dared to take on a Troll alone for the sake of her friends."
He twirled the wand in his hand, his gaze falling on the dancing flames in the fireplace, his tone as flat as if he were telling a trivial anecdote that had nothing to do with him.
"Quite interesting."
"Even a mudblood understands what courage is."
"Yet some of our so-called pure-blood nobles are still haggling over that bit of ridiculous and worthless personal dignity."
He didn't mention Daphne's name.
But every word pierced precisely into the most untouchable part of her heart.
Her self-esteem! Her most valued pure-blood identity!
In Draco's mouth, it was actually inferior to the courage of a mudblood!
This was a hundred times more humiliating than Pansythreatening her with the family business!
Daphne bit her lower lip hard, tasting a hint of blood.
She suddenly looked up, glaring at the boy sitting on the sofa.
Draco finally turned his head and met her gaze.
That look clearly said: See, your pride is just that worthless in front of me.
The family business.
Personal dignity.
Two things weighed heavily on her.
Finally, under Draco's calm and sharp gaze, Daphne's back, which had always been held straight, slowly slumped.
"...Fine."
The word was practically squeezed out from between her teeth.
"I'll join."
Pansy's face immediately broke into a wide smile.
The corners of Draco's mouth also curled up.
Everything was going according to his plan.
"But I have conditions." Daphne took a breath; this was the last bit of dignity she could maintain.
"The outfits cannot be too vulgar."
"I cannot dress revealingly and stand before the whole school."
This was her bottom line.
"Of course."
Draco agreed surprisingly quickly.
"Our Slytherin aesthetic has always been the most noble and elegant."
He stood up and casually smoothed his wrinkle-free robes.
"Welcome aboard, Miss Greengrass. I believe you will add the most magnificent stroke to Slytherin's glory."
After speaking, he turned and left with composed steps.
Daphne watched his back, her fists clenched tight.
She seemed to have won, yet also seemed to have lost even more completely.
Draco's quick agreement made her feel even more uneasy.
She had a premonition that things were definitely not that simple.
Meanwhile, as Draco walked up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, he was sneering in his heart.
He was the one who decided how the clothes would be designed.
The boundary between "vulgar" and "artistic" would naturally be determined by him.
What he wanted was exactly this feeling.
That sense of shame from resisting to the death yet having no choice but to wear the clothes he designed and display her body before him.
That was the best part of the play.
Pansy returned to the group of girls, cleared her throat, and loudly announced Daphne Greengrass's joining.
A wave of uncontrollable gasps erupted from the crowd.
Even Daphne agreed?
It seemed there was no escaping this time.
Everyone's emotions were stirred up.
Pansy watched all this, her admiration for Dracodeepening. Without much effort, he had melted Slytherin's proudest iceberg.
This was Draco Malfoy.
"Alright, everyone who has been selected, listen up."
Pansy's voice rose a few notches, carrying an indisputable authority.
"Draco's orders."
"Tonight, after lights out, everyone gather in front of the 'Barnabas the Barmy' tapestry on the eighth floor."
"We're going somewhere to have 'measurements taken'."
She deliberately paused here, her gaze sweeping over every girl's face, finally resting on Daphne's for a full two seconds.
Then, she switched to a near-whisper, malicious tone to add Draco's final command.
"Draco said, to ensure the team uniforms fit perfectly, the measurements must be most 'precise'."
"So, when taking measurements, no extra clothing is allowed."
Chapter 31: The Temperature of the Measuring tape, the Secret of the Room of Requirement
Hogwarts Castle at night was deep and silent.
In the eighth-floor corridor, Pansy Parkinson led five girls, standing before a giant tapestry.
Except for Pansy and Millicent, the other four had nervousness written on their faces.
Especially Daphne Greengrass.
Her arms were crossed over her chest, her expression colder than the moonlight outside the window, and she remained silent.
Pansy glanced at the clock; the time was just right.
She closed her eyes and silently recited Draco's instructions in her mind.
[A completely private room, with all tailoring tools, and only we can enter.]
The stone wall in front of them began to twist and reorganize, and a magnificent wooden door rose from the ground.
The girls let out low gasps of surprise.
"Come in."
Pansy pushed open the door and led the way inside.
The scene behind the door left them all stunned.
It was a high-end tailor shop filled with mirrors and fabrics, with design sketches of various formal gowns pinned to the walls.
In the center of the room, a figure in a silk dressing gown was playing with a silver magic Measuring tape.
It was Draco.
He turned around, his short platinum-blonde hair shimmering under the lights. His grey-blue eyes swept over each girl with a sharp gaze, as if he were appraising them.
"Welcome, ladies."
Draco's voice held a hint of a smile.
"Goyle and Crabbe wanted to help, but I sent them away."
He shook the Measuring tape in his hand.
"For something like this, a 'gentleman' like me must naturally do it himself."
Several girls' cheeks flushed.
Millicent even instinctively puffed out her chest.
Only Daphne, with a cold face, took half a step back.
"Alright, let's not waste time."
Draco clapped his hands.
"Who's first?"
"I'll go, Draco!"
Millicent Bulstrode immediately stepped forward, walked onto the low platform in the center of the room, and briskly took off her Wizard robes.
Beneath the robes, only her form-fitting underwear remained.
Draco remained expressionless, like a true tailor.
He stepped forward, and the Measuring tape in his hand began to glide over Millicent's body.
"Shoulder width, thirty-six."
"Bust, eighty-two."
"Waist, sixty."
As he called out the numbers, a Quill nearby recorded them on Parchment by itself.
His movements were professional and swift; his fingers made no unnecessary movements beyond essential contact.
Yet the coolness of his fingertips and the sensation of the Measuring tape sliding across her skin made Millicent's body feel weak.
Soon, the measurement ended.
She put her robes back on with a hint of reluctance and stepped aside.
The next few girls also completed their measurements amidst shyness and compliance.
Finally, only Daphne remained.
She was still standing by the door, like an ice sculpture.
"Miss Greengrass."
Draco's voice wasn't loud.
"Need me to invite you up?"
Daphne's body stiffened, and under everyone's gaze, she walked onto the low platform step by step.
Her movements were very slow, each step like treading on knife points.
"Take it off."
Draco's command was simple and direct.
Daphne closed her eyes, her fingers trembling as she unbuttoned her robes.
The oversized robes slid down her shoulders and piled up at her feet.
A collective gasp filled the air.
Even Pansy's eyes flashed with a hint of jealousy.
Daphne's figure had been hidden all too well by the bulky school uniform.
Her waistline cinched sharply, then flared out fully below; every inch was just right.
The light shone on her, her skin so delicate that no pores could be seen, shimmering with a cold jade-like luster.
She crossed her arms over her chest, an action that instead made the contours there appear even more breathtaking.
"Arms, open," Draco commanded.
Daphne didn't move.
"Greengrass, don't make me say it a second time," Draco's tone dropped, "I can't measure the bust."
He said the word "bust" exceptionally clearly.
Daphne's cheeks flared up instantly, the blush spreading from her neck all the way to her ears.
She gritted her teeth hard, but finally, she slowly opened her arms, completely exposing herself to Draco's gaze.
Draco stepped forward.
The silver Measuring tape, carrying a chill, pressed against her warm back.
Daphne's body tensed.
The Measuring tape wrapped around her body, tightening at the most prominent part of her chest.
"Eighty-eight."
As Draco called out the number, Daphne's body visibly jolted.
Next, the Measuring tape slid down to her waist.
As Draco's fingers looped the tape, his fingertips "unintentionally" brushed against the most ticklish soft flesh on the side of her waist.
"!"
Daphne shuddered all over, a faint electric current exploding from her waist and surging through her entire body.
She almost cried out, her lips bitten pale.
Draco, however, acted as if nothing had happened, calmly calling out the number.
"Waist, fifty-eight."
In his mind, the System's electronic voice rang out.
[Ding!]
[Deep physical contact with a high-potential female (Daphne Greengrass) detected, Bond charge +10!]
[Target's intense emotional fluctuations detected, shame and indignation converted into Emotion points +50!]
The corner of Draco's mouth curled into an unnoticeable arc.
After finishing the upper body measurements, his gaze moved down, landing on her straight and well-proportioned long legs.
"Next, leg circumference."
As Draco spoke, he knelt on one knee in front of Daphne.
This posture made Daphne's heart skip a beat.
He looked up at her.
"Miss Greengrass, please lift your skirt."
Daphne's breath caught.
Lifting her own skirt in front of so many people?
This was even more humiliating than taking off her robes!
"No..." she blurted out.
Draco didn't force her, maintaining his kneeling position as he spoke softly.
"Think of your family."
"Think of your father's face, filled with anxiety."
"Compared to the future of the entire Greengrass family, what does this little sacrifice matter?"
Her pride and her defenses were easily dismantled by these few words.
A layer of mist clouded her eyes.
Humiliation, unwillingness, anger... all eventually turned into a powerless compromise.
Daphne closed her eyes, not looking at Draco's face.
Her trembling hand reached for her skirt.
Bit by bit, upwards.
First the delicate ankles, then the smooth calves... the edge of the fabric was about to cross her knees, revealing the tight lines of her thighs.
Just then—
Click.
A soft sound.
The handle of the carved wooden door of the Room of Requirement turned.
Someone was outside.
Chapter 32: Hermione Checks Up, The Dignity of the Main Wife
The door opened.
A figure flashed in, fast as a gust of wind.
It was Hermione Granger.
She clutched the marauders map in her hand; her long brown hair was a bit messy, and her Gryffindor uniform was wrinkled.
Her gaze immediately swept over the room.
A room full of Slytherin girls wearing only underwear.
Pansy Parkinson and the others had expressions mixed with bashfulness and excitement.
Finally, her gaze fixed firmly on the center of the room.
Draco was looking up at Daphne Greengrass.
And Daphne, holding up her skirt, had tear stains on her face.
This scene made Hermione's blood rush to her head.
The girls in the room were startled.
Pansy reacted the fastest; like a lioness protecting her cub, she stepped in front of Draco.
"Granger! What are you doing here!"
Draco's reaction, however, was faster than anyone's.
The moment Hermione entered, he stood up and unhurriedly put away the measuring tape in his hand.
He ignored Pansy's shouting and didn't look at Daphne's disheveled state.
He walked straight toward Hermione, a perfectly timed look of surprise on his face.
"Hermione? Why are you here?"
His voice was natural and intimate.
Hermione's lips quivered; a barrage of questions was stuck in her throat, and she couldn't say a single word.
Draco had already reached her.
Ignoring everyone's gazes, he reached out and pulled her to his side.
Then, he turned back and spoke to Pansy, Daphne, and the others in a tone one would use to introduce a possession:
"Let me introduce you."
"This is the 'Tactical Interference Group' I've prepared for this Quidditch match."
Tactical Interference Group?
Both Pansy and Daphne were stunned.
Hermione was also dazed.
Draco didn't give them time to think.
He lowered his head, his lips close to Hermione's ear, breathing warm air against it.
"Harry Potter's greatest weakness is his soft heart and being easily distracted."
"These pretty fools are the most magnificent trap I've prepared for him."
His voice was very low, with a seductive magnetism.
"They're just pawns, Hermione."
"Tools used to disrupt Potter and ensure Slytherin's victory."
His hand on Hermione's waist gave a gentle squeeze.
"And you are the only 'Insider' who can stand with me."
"They all have to listen to us."
Insider.
Pawns.
These two words, like two spells, accurately struck Hermione's soft spot.
The overwhelming jealousy in her heart receded instantly.
An unprecedented sense of superiority replaced it.
She looked up and glanced at the Slytherin girls again.
She saw the obedience in Pansy's eyes, though she didn't dare speak her anger.
She saw the expression on Daphne's face, a mix of shame and resentment, yet forced to lower her head.
These pure-blood noble ladies were nothing more than tools he could manipulate at will in his plan.
And she, Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born Witch, was the only one who could stand by his side and share his secrets.
This confirmation of status was more effective than anything.
The knot in Hermione's heart was completely untied.
She even began to look at everything before her with the posture of a "Proprietress" inspecting her own property.
Her gaze fell on the parchment recording the data.
"Let me see."
She walked over and picked up the parchment directly from the table.
When she saw the exaggerated numbers in Daphne's row, she subconsciously glanced at Daphne's chest and then looked down at herself.
A trace of sourness rose in her heart, but it was immediately suppressed by her sense of being the one in control.
Draco watched the subtle changes in her expression, and the corners of his mouth curled up silently.
Done.
He pulled out his wand and tapped the parchment lightly.
"Alright, data collection is complete."
He turned to Pansy and the others.
"Now, witness the miracle."
Draco raised his wand and gave a casual wave toward a large piece of silver-green fabric in the center of the room.
The fabric rose into the air, flying, cutting, and sewing itself.
The light of the incantation flashed and vanished.
In a matter of seconds, the first Sample Garment was generated out of thin air and drifted down.
It was a silver and green pleated miniskirt, paired with an extremely tight black vest and a pair of pure white over-the-knee stockings.
The skirt's length barely covered half the thighs; any more would be cumbersome, any less would be excessive, filled with youthful restlessness.
The tight vest accentuated the waistline and the curves of the chest to a breathtaking degree.
"Wow..." several girls let out uncontrollable gasps of admiration.
This outfit... was so special.
It had both the nobility of Slytherin and a deliberately released, hook-like vitality.
"Pansy, you're up," Draco commanded.
Pansy excitedly grabbed the outfit and rushed into the fitting room that had automatically appeared nearby.
A few minutes later, she stepped out.
The whole room went silent.
The effect was terrifyingly good.
Pansy's already decent figure was fully accentuated by this outfit, showing every curve.
She just took a couple of steps, and the hem of the skirt swayed restlessly with her movements, the view beneath flashing in the gaps, blindingly white.
Those long legs wrapped in white stockings had every inch of their lines perfectly outlined.
The lace at the top of the stockings pressed a shallow, enticing mark into her skin.
The feeling, somewhere between a girl's purity and mature charm, was captured perfectly.
Even Hermione's cheeks flushed as she watched.
She muttered under her breath, "Shameless."
But her eyes wouldn't listen, stealing several more glances at Pansy's white-stockinged legs.
Draco was very satisfied with the result.
He waved his wand again, and several more flashes of light appeared.
Five identical outfits appeared before the other girls.
"Put them on."
Draco's command brooked no argument.
Though the girls were shy, seeing Pansy's stunning transformation, they were all tempted and took the clothes to the fitting rooms.
Only Daphne remained frozen in place.
She looked at the pitifully small amount of fabric in her hands, her face turning pale and then flushed.
He wanted her to wear this?
In front of the whole school?
She couldn't do it!
Draco saw through her thoughts.
He didn't rush her, but slowly strolled to her side.
He didn't look at her, but instead at her reflection in the mirror, which was trembling slightly from anger and shame.
Then, he leaned down, his lips almost touching her ear, and whispered:
"If you don't know how to put it on..."
"I can help you."
Chapter 33: Frost Resistance? Let's Melt You First.
A few nights later, in the Room of Requirement.
Draco had transformed this place into a spacious dance studio, with floor-to-ceiling mirrors on all four walls.
Pansy and five other Slytherin girls had changed into silver and green uniforms and were standing in a row.
"Arms! Higher! Legs straight! Millicent, did you just crawl out of a grave with those movements!"
Pansy stood with her hands on her hips, looking every bit the strict captain, scolding the team members whose movements were out of form without mercy.
Most of the girls learned quickly; they were trying their best to perform, eager to catch the eye of the person in the corner.
But Daphne Greengrass was an exception.
Every one of her movements exuded a sense of resistance.
When swinging her arms, her elbows wouldn't even straighten.
Her kicks were even softer, lacking any strength at all.
She was like a marionette, her body and soul at odds, appearing out of place in the group and ruining the overall aesthetic.
"Daphne Greengrass!"
Pansy's patience ran out; she rushed in front of Daphne, hands on her hips.
"What are you doing? Dancing or sleepwalking?"
"I..." Daphne bit her lower lip, unable to say a single word.
"Everyone is working hard for Draco, for the glory of Slytherin! And you're here dragging us down!" Pansy's accusation was sharp and loud.
"If you don't want to dance, get out now! Don't waste everyone's time!"
Being scolded in front of so many people, Daphne's face turned pale and then flushed, her self-esteem shattered.
Her ice-blue eyes quickly clouded over with a layer of mist, her eyes turning red with grievance and anger.
She suddenly spun around, truly intending to quit.
"Stop."
A cold voice came from the corner.
It was Draco.
He had been sitting in a chair, but now he stood up, and the air in the entire practice room seemed to freeze.
Everyone's breathing grew light.
"Pansy, take them to the side to rest," Draco ordered.
"Yes, Draco." No matter how unwilling Pansy was, she could only obey immediately, leading the other girls to the wall.
In the center of the practice room, only Draco and Daphneremained.
Draco took a long stride, walking toward her step by step.
Daphne kept her head down, her shoulders still trembling slightly from her grievance.
Draco didn't say a word and went directly behind her.
In the next second, a pair of warm palms pressed against her waist.
Daphne's muscles tensed instantly.
"Stand straight."
Draco's voice was right behind her ear, his warm chest pressed against her back through the thin uniform.
The clean scent of cedar belonging to a young man brushed against her sensitive earlobe.
Daphne's ears turned bright red with a "buzz."
She instinctively wanted to break free, but those hands tightened, firmly fixing her in place.
"What are you afraid of?"
Draco's voice was very low, carrying a power that could see through one's heart.
"Afraid of being watched?"
"Afraid of their gazes?"
"Daphne, look up, look at the mirror."
Daphne's neck lifted stiffly and uncontrollably, bit by bit.
In the mirror, a tall figure completely enveloped her from behind.
His chin was almost resting in the crook of her shoulder, their posture so intimate it made her heart skip a beat.
"True nobles enjoy being the center of attention."
His words weren't loud, but they hammered into her mind one by one, dismantling her pitiful defenses.
"You must make those commoners fall for you, go mad for you. Their gazes are your nourishment, not your shackles."
His hands left her waist and slid down her stiff arms.
The touch of his fingertips gave her goosebumps.
Finally, his hands stopped at her wrists, and then, without allowing any argument, he gripped her cold fingers tightly.
"Relax."
He pulled her arms, guiding them upward in a stretching motion.
"Feel your body, make it listen to you, don't be held hostage by that ridiculous sense of shame."
Under the status of the system's "Bond Charging," every touch of his carried an unusual heat.
That heat flowed from their joined palms, up her arms to her spine, and straight to her head, burning away all her thoughts of resistance.
A strange, tingling pleasure spread from where their skin touched.
Her body began to go soft.
Her breathing also became rapid.
The stiffness was fading, replaced by a heat that was unfamiliar to her.
Draco led her hands, guiding her body.
One stretching movement after another, which she previously couldn't do to save her life, was now completed with incredible smoothness.
Every movement meant deeper contact.
His thighs would "accidentally" brush against hers.
His body would press more closely against her back, allowing her to clearly feel the rise and fall of his chest.
Daphne couldn't think about anything anymore.
All that remained in her ears was his breathing against them and her own drum-like heartbeat.
Shame and resistance had long been thrown to the wind; she could only passively follow the rhythm of the man behind her.
It was as if this body no longer belonged to her.
[Ding!]
A mechanical electronic sound rang in Draco's mind.
[Detected that Daphne Greengrass's emotions have broken through the threshold!]
[Favorability has been unlocked. Current status: Fear and Infatuation (10/100)!]
[Congratulations to the host for obtaining a skill fragment: Frost Resistance (Beginner)!]
It worked.
A hint of satisfaction flashed in Draco's grey eyes.
He felt the girl in his arms had completely softened, her breathing light and fast. He slowly let go of her hands.
Losing the support, Daphne's body went weak, and she almost knelt down.
She hurriedly reached out to grab the nearby Training Barre to barely steady herself.
She gasped for breath, her cheeks so red they looked like they might drip blood, not daring to look back at Draco at all.
The feeling just now was too terrifying.
And too... she didn't dare think further.
Draco took two steps back, returning to his cold and elegant noble air.
He looked at the girl still trembling while holding the barre and coldly dropped a sentence.
"Tomorrow night, I want to see perfection."
"Otherwise..." He paused, a flash of playfulness in his grey eyes, "We will continue this lesson."
After saying that, he turned and left, heading toward the door without looking back.
Daphne was left alone on the spot.
She watched his departing back with a complex gaze.
There was fear, shame, and confusion.
And a hint of... secret expectation that she hadn't even noticed herself.
Chapter 34: The Old Bat's Smile, Everything Under Control
The day before the Quidditch match.
The atmosphere at the Gryffindor table was tense.
Captain Oliver Wood drew dense offensive and defensive routes on the tactics board, his voice hushed.
"Listen, Slytherin is using nimbus 2001, we're at a disadvantage in speed."
"So we must strengthen physical confrontation! Weasley, you two, your task is to knock their Chasers down!"
Fred and George clenched their fists, their faces alight with bloodthirsty excitement.
But Seeker Harry Potter didn't hear a word.
His gaze swept over the crowd, landing on the Slytherintable again and again.
"Harry?" Wood tapped the table with his knuckles, clearly displeased.
"Listening." Harry immediately withdrew his gaze.
Ron Weasley, sitting next to him, mumbled curses with his mouth full of food.
"Malfoy must be up to no good! I heard they've been sneaking around every night lately, Snape's been giving them special lessons, teaching Dark Arts!"
Ron's words made Harry even more flustered.
His gaze drifted over again, settling on the corner of the long table.
Draco Malfoy was sitting there.
He wasn't clustered with his teammates; Hermione Granger was beside him.
Their heads were close, talking in low voices.
Draco had a smile on his face, and Hermione looked up at him, her eyes focused, even a little tender.
That look, once upon a time, belonged only to him and Ron.
Now, it was given to the person they hated most.
Hermione sensed the gaze and turned her head to scan this way.
Her eyes swept past Harry's face, unfamiliar, cold, not lingering.
Then, she turned back and picked up an orange from the table.
Those nimble fingers, which had once repaired Harry's glasses, were now meticulously peeling the orange.
She broke off a segment and put it in her mouth, tasting it.
The next second, she handed the entire remaining peeled orange to Draco's mouth.
Draco naturally opened his mouth and ate it.
Scratch—
The fork in Harry's hand scraped sharply against his plate.
His chest felt tight, and he couldn't swallow the food in his mouth anymore.
On the other side, Hermione felt a strange sense of satisfaction after doing all this.
Draco taught her.
To break a man, you strike at what he cares about most.
What Harry Potter cared about most was their ridiculous "Golden Trio" friendship.
So, she would tear it apart with her own hands, right in front of him.
After lunch, Hermione went to the Library as planned.
She pretended to flip through a few books, and as she got up to leave, a piece of parchment slipped from between the pages and fell into a dark corner of the bookshelf.
She walked away without looking back.
Not long after, Harry and Ron also rushed into the Library, hoping to find some spells to counter the "conspiracy."
"Look over there!" Ron, with his sharp eyes, spotted the parchment in the corner.
He ran over and picked it up.
"It's Hermione's handwriting!"
Harry immediately leaned in; the parchment had a few lines of messy writing, a draft of a plan.
[Quidditch Interference Plan]
[Target: Gryffindor Seeker (Harry Potter)]
[Method: Exploit his weakness of unstable flying, cast 'Impedimenta' or 'Locomotor Mortis' to create an accident during high-speed flight.]
[Executor: To be determined.]
[Timing: Mid-to-late match, when stamina is low.]
"I knew it!" Ron exclaimed. "They're going to use dark curses! How despicable!"
Harry stared at the familiar handwriting, and his last shred of illusion shattered.
He had thought Hermione was merely deceived, but he never expected she had become an accomplice.
"We have to find a way." Harry's voice was dry, and he gritted his teeth. "We must find a way to defend against these spells!"
On the last afternoon before the match, the two abandoned flying practice and spent all their time studying defensive spells and the Shield Charm.
Their direction had completely gone astray.
The entire Hogwarts was buzzing for tomorrow's match.
The corridors were filled with discussing students, and gambling was set up in the Common Rooms of every house.
The odds for Slytherin to win were pitifully low, yet over seventy percent of people placed bets on them.
All public opinion pressed down on Gryffindor, on Harry Potter.
He had to win.
Late at night, in the Slytherin boys' dormitory.
Draco sat by his bed, carefully wiping his brand-new nimbus 2001 with a velvet cloth.
Just then, a mechanical prompt sounded in his mind.
[Ding!]
[Key plot node detected: First Quidditch Match!]
[Side Quest issued: First Victory!]
[Quest Requirement: Not only win the match, but also crush the morale of the Gryffindor team and destroy Harry Potter's confidence before the match officially begins!]
[Quest Reward: 3000 points, random skill 'Master of Flight'!]
Draco stopped wiping.
Crush them before the match begins?
This task suited his taste perfectly.
His gaze pierced through the window, looking out at the dark night sky.
Tomorrow would be a day Harry Potter would never forget... On the morning of the match, the HogwartsGreat Hall was bustling.
The Gryffindor lion banner and the Slytherin silver serpent banner hung on the walls, confronting each other.
Harry Potter didn't touch his breakfast; his stomach churned, making him feel like vomiting.
Wood was still droning on about tactics in his ear, but Harry's mind was filled with that note detailing the dark curses.
Just then—
Boom—boom—boom—
A heavy, rhythmic drumbeat came from outside the Great Hall's main doors.
Everyone's eyes collectively turned towards the doors.
The heavy oak doors silently slid open to both sides.
Morning light flooded in, silhouetting several tall figures against the light.
The drumbeat grew heavier.
Pansy Parkinson walked at the front, her face adorned with exquisite makeup, her usual sharp-tongued demeanor replaced by an arrogant, queen-like aura.
Behind her, Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode... and three other most outstanding pure-blood Slytheringirls, lined up in two columns, stepping in unison, entered the Great Hall.
When their figures were fully exposed to the light, the entire Great Hall fell silent.
Knives and forks clattered to the floor from the boys' hands.
At the Gryffindor table, Ron Weasley's half-chewed sausage "plop" dropped back onto his plate.
His eyes were fixed, locked tightly on Daphne Greengrass, second in the line.
They were wearing matching silver and green team uniforms.
Black tight-fitting vests accentuated astonishing waistlines, and silver-green pleated short skirts swayed rhythmically with their steps.
Each time the skirts flared, they revealed a dazzling flash of white.
In the morning light, their thighs, encased in white knee-high socks, were taut and sharply defined.
This was a blatant visual assault.
After a brief, dead silence, the clamor in the Great Hallerupted.
"Merlin's beard!"
"Are those... Slytherin girls?"
"Am I blind? Daphne Greengrass? She dares to dress like that?"
The boys from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stared, dumbfounded.
At the Gryffindor table, Harry's Quidditch teammates, including Captain Wood, were all petrified, staring blankly at the squad.
Morale?
Gryffindor's morale, at this moment, shattered completely.
This "Honor Guard" composed of top Slytherin girls ignored all eyes, their objective clear.
They marched in unison through the aisle between the House tables, heading straight for the Slytherin table.
Then, they stopped in front of one figure.
Draco Malfoy.
He was slowly cutting the fried egg on his plate with a silver knife, completely oblivious to the commotion around him.
Pansy curtsied to him, a flawless genuflection.
Immediately, she and all the squad members turned in unison, facing the entire Great Hall.
They pressed their right fists to their hearts, then thrust them forward sharply.
Six clear, loud voices merged into one, echoing through the Great Hall!
"Malfoy! Victory!"
"Slytherin! Glory!"
After the cheers, Pansy turned back, and under the gaze of the entire hall, leaned down and pressed a light kiss on Draco's cheek.
At the staff table, Dumbledore pushed up his half-moon spectacles, a smile of amusement on his old face.
Professor McGonagall, beside him, had her lips pressed into a bloodless, straight line, too angry to speak.
This was outrageous!
But she scoured the school rules and couldn't find any regulation to punish such a "cheering" act.
Harry Potter watched this scene, his stomach churning.
He saw Seamus Finnigan's drool almost dripping, and Dean Thomas was grabbing the person next to him, excitedly arguing about which girl's legs were more attractive.
What more was there to compete for?
The match hadn't even begun, and they had already lost.
Under the gazes mixed with shock, envy, and jealousy from the entire hall, Draco finally wiped his mouth with a napkin and slowly stood up.
He first elegantly returned a standard noble bow to his "Honor Guard."
Then, his gaze swept across the Great Hall, finally settling on Harry Potter, who was pale-faced at the Gryffindor table.
He raised his right hand, his thumb lightly drawing a line across his neck.
Die!
Chapter 35: Fight, For the Slytherin Girls!
Quidditch Pitch.
The cheers were deafening.
The stands were completely divided into two colors: red-gold and silver-green. Gryffindor's lion banners fluttered in the wind.
On the other side, Slytherin's serpent banners formed an overwhelming sea of green.
Slytherin students wore matching silver-green cheering uniforms, their roars nearly drowning out the opponents' shouts.
At the forefront of this green sea, the six cheerleaders stood in the front row, not sitting, becoming the most eye-catching spectacle in the entire stadium.
Even before the match began, they were the center of attention.
"Look—the Slytherin players are coming out!"
The commentator Lee Jordan's voice, amplified by magic, echoed across the pitch.
chaser Captain Marcus Flint was the first to fly out of the tunnel.
The moment he appeared—
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Intense drumbeats suddenly erupted!
Pansy led the cheerleaders in their performance.
"Flint! Crush them!"
"Flint! Tear them apart!"
"Victory belongs to Slytherin!"
Their movements were perfectly synchronized; every kick, every swing of their arms, made their tight uniforms outline astonishing curves.
Silver-green skirts fluttered, dazzling the eyes.
Every male Wizard in the stadium let out an uncontrollable wolf-whistle.
Lee Jordan's commentary went completely off-track: "Oh, Merlin's beard! Look at that blonde girl! The young lady of the Greengrass Family?"
"Her... her movements... are so artistic! Professor McGonagall, is this really within the rules?"
Professor McGonagall ignored him, only giving a warning glance.
At the highest point of the stands, in a hidden corner.
Hermione Granger put down her high-powered magical telescope, a faint, unnoticed smile playing on her lips.
The telescope's focus had been locked on Daphne in the cheerleading squad.
Watching that pure-blood young lady's icy face filled with humiliation, yet forced to perform sultry moves.
In Hermione's heart, aside from a slight tinge of feminine jealousy, there was more admiration for Draco's methods.
On the Gryffindor stands, Ron Weasley was so angry his face turned red and his neck thickened.
"Despicable! Shameless!"
He cursed at the pitch.
"They're using Veela tactics! No shame at all!"
Beside him, Seamus and Dean weren't listening at all, craning their necks excitedly and whispering to each other.
"I bet five Galleons, Pansy Parkinson has the slimmest waist!"
"Millicent is the one with the real assets!"
"What do you know? The feeling of an ice queen like Daphne Greengrass being forced to perform is the real prize!"
Hearing his friends' discussion, Ron was about to explode with anger.
He turned to look for Harry, only to find Harry staring blankly at the Slytherin stands, his face paler than paper.
Ron followed his gaze and saw Hermione standing up from the high point, waving gently toward the players' tunnel.
In that direction, Draco Malfoy was about to make his entrance.
The fire in Ron's heart was doused by a bucket of ice water, leaving only piercing cold and despair.
In the players' tunnel, the Slytherin team trembled with excitement hearing the cheers outside.
"Hear that! Lads!"
Captain Flint's face flushed red, looking at that sea of green, at the six figures dancing for them, feeling his blood boil.
"For the Slytherin girls! Today, we must beat the crap out of those Gryffindor scum!"
"Awoo!" The team members let out beast-like howls.
Only Draco leaned against the wall, watching them coldly.
He walked up to Flint and patted his shoulder.
"Flint," his voice was soft but carried a chill, "it's for Slytherin's glory."
"Of course, of course! For glory!" Flint immediately corrected himself, but his eyes still couldn't help glancing toward the cheerleaders.
Draco couldn't be bothered with him anymore.
These fools, dizzy with hormones, would unleash double their combat power today—that was enough.
"Both teams, prepare to enter the pitch!"
Madam Hooch's voice came through.
Draco mounted his nimbus 2001, feeling the powerful magic emanating from the broomstick. He glanced toward the other end of the tunnel, where the Gryffindor team was also ready.
Sunlight shone in from the tunnel entrance, somewhat blinding.
"First to enter, the Gryffindor House team!" Lee Jordan's shout echoed to the skies.
Wood led his team charging onto the pitch; they rode a few Nimbus 2000s mixed with some old Cleansweep Sevens, their models uneven.
Gryffindor's red sea erupted in cheers, but they clearly lacked vigor.
Immediately after.
"Now, let's give our warmest cheers to welcome our invincible champions—the Slytherin team!"
Lee Jordan's tone unconsciously shifted in their favor.
Whoosh—!
Seven green blurs shot out simultaneously from the players' tunnel!
The Slytherin team, all riding the latest nimbus 2001s, charged into the sky with an unmatched posture!
The streamlined brooms, their expensive quality, made Harry's once-proud Nimbus 2000 seem laughable and shabby.
Absolute equipment superiority delivered the most direct psychological blow.
"Oh—look at that speed! That posture! nimbus 2001! A work of art in the sky!" Lee Jordan had completely become Slytherin's cheerleader.
The two teams hovered in the center of the pitch, facing off.
Captains Wood and Flint flew to the front, extending their hands to shake.
"Crack."
A faint sound of bones grinding. Both men's grips were terrifyingly strong, wearing ferocious smiles on their faces.
Draco didn't participate in this low-level contest of strength.
He urged his broom, slowly rising, stopping directly above Harry Potter.
Harry looked up, meeting Draco's gaze.
He wanted to find a trace of nervousness on that overly handsome face, even a hint of seriousness.
But he failed.
Draco only mouthed two words silently to Harry.
"Potter."
"Runaway expert."
Lighthearted trash talk, but filled to the brim with insult.
Harry felt blood rush to his head.
He wanted to retort, to curse back with the vilest words, but his throat felt clogged with cotton.
His mind uncontrollably flashed with scenes.
Hermione held in Draco's arms.
Hermione feeding an orange to Draco's lips with her own hands.
The stunning performance of the cheerleaders just now.
That breathtaking glimpse of white under Daphne Greengrass's short skirt.
His heart was completely in turmoil.
Madam Hooch had flown to the center between the two teams.
"I expect a fair match!" Madam Hooch said sternly.
She threw the Quaffle high into the air.
"Beep—!"
The whistle tore through the air!
Fourteen flying brooms transformed into fourteen blurs, shooting upward!
The match began!
The chasers rushed toward the Quaffle like mad.
bludgers whistled through the air, seeking targets.
The two Seekers, like two bolts of lightning, shot up from the ground, charging toward the higher clouds.
Draco rode his nimbus 2001, his speed astonishing, easily leaving Harry behind and maintaining a position diagonally above him.
He was enjoying this feeling of looking down.
Watching the figure below riding a shabby broom desperately chasing him, the smile on his lips grew wider.
Chapter 36: Equipment Overwhelming? No, It's a Complete Domination!
The gap in equipment became an unbridgeable chasm from the very first second of the match.
The ebony handle of the nimbus 2001 gleamed with an oily sheen. With just a light squeeze of his legs, Dracotransformed into a green streak, shooting straight up a hundred meters into the sky.
The pitch beneath his feet rapidly shrank into a tiny green square of cloth.
Meanwhile, Harry Potter, riding his old-model Nimbus 2000, was pedaling his legs desperately, struggling to climb upward.
In Draco's eyes, the motion looked both stupid and slow.
He wasn't in a hurry to find the Golden Snitch.
Ending the game too quickly would be boring.
He slightly lowered his altitude, circling Harry elegantly like a hunting hawk.
Each time, he deliberately flew dangerously close.
The powerful air currents stirred up by the nimbus 2001were like invisible slaps, striking Harry hard.
Harry's Nimbus 2000 emitted an unstable hum and shook violently.
He had to grip the broom with all his might to avoid being thrown off.
"Potter, your broom is shaking."
Draco's voice, carried by the wind, clearly reached Harry's ears.
"Scared?"
Harry gritted his teeth, refusing to respond, only wanting to accelerate and shake off this annoying fly.
But the moment he sped up, Draco ghostly blocked his path, slowing down again and forcing him into a clumsy emergency turn.
Pure mockery.
"Thud!"
A dull sound.
It was a Bludger.
Slytherin's Beater, Crabbe, swung his bat, and the Bludger accurately struck Gryffindor's Chaser, AngelinaJohnson, in the back.
She let out a muffled groan and fell straight off her broom, caught in a flurry by her teammates below.
In less than five minutes, Gryffindor had lost a key player.
Slytherin's Captain, Flint, was already charging toward Gryffindor's goalposts like a wild bull with the Quaffle.
"Slytherin scores! Ten to zero!"
Lee Jordan's voice was filled with frustration.
Right then.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
From the stands, the deadly drumbeats started again!
Pansy Parkinson stood in the front row, a fanatical smile on her face, roaring toward the Slytherin stands.
"Slytherin!"
"Go!"
Behind her, Daphne and five other girls moved in perfect unison.
They braced one hand on the railing, raised the other high, and simultaneously performed a standard high-kick.
Their silver-green pleated skirts "swished" upward, tracing six neat arcs in the air.
Beneath the skirts were dazzlingly white thighs.
The slender lines of their legs, encased in white thigh-high stockings, were stretched taut, the edges of the stockings leaving a faint, enticing mark at the top of their thighs.
"Awooo—!"
No matter which house, everyone let out nearly uncontrollable howls.
This wasn't cheering.
This was blatant visual bombardment and psychological warfare!
On the Gryffindor stands, Ron's face turned beet red.
"Shameless! Lewd!"
He trembled with anger.
But beside him, Seamus and Dean craned their necks, eyes wide open, practically wishing they could press their eyeballs against the scene.
"Merlin's beard... I was wrong, Daphne Greengrass's legs are the best!"
"That pose... it's killing me..."
On the pitch.
Gryffindor's Keeper, Wood, also fell victim.
He should have been intently watching the next SlytherinChaser charging toward him.
But his peripheral vision uncontrollably drifted toward the most eye-catching spectacle in the stands.
Just that split-second distraction.
"Whoosh—"
Another Slytherin Chaser, Higgs, seized the opportunity.
The Quaffle transformed into a red streak, slipping past Wood's armpit and into the goal.
"Slytherin scores again! Twenty to zero!"
Lee Jordan's voice took on a sob.
Wood slammed his fist against the goalpost in frustration.
He knew he had been distracted.
But damn it, he couldn't control it!
High above, Harry saw it all.
His heart sank inch by inch.
Morale was crumbling.
His teammates' attention was being stolen away.
And he himself was stuck, completely tied up by that bastard Draco Malfoy, unable to do anything.
"See that, Potter?"
Draco flew up beside him again, his voice full of amusement.
"This is the gap."
"Your teammates are drooling over my girls."
"And you can't even escape from me."
Harry's eyes turned red.
Anger and humiliation overwhelmed his reason.
"Get away!"
He sharply twisted his broom, no longer dodging, and charged straight toward Draco!
He wanted to shut this bastard up!
Facing Harry's all-out charge, Draco showed no surprise.
He didn't even make any move to dodge.
A flash of cruel excitement passed through his gray eyes.
Perfect timing.
Just before the two brooms were about to collide, Dracowilled it.
"[System, activate 'Troll's Strength'!]"
A faint surge of heat instantly spread through his limbs.
His muscles seemed to harden a notch.
Crash—!
A dull, teeth-grinding impact.
Two bodies collided violently in mid-air!
At the last moment, Draco adjusted his posture, using his shoulder to squarely meet Harry's shoulder.
"Crack!"
Harry felt an irresistible force surge from his right shoulder, as if struck head-on by a battering ram.
The excruciating pain of bone breaking made his vision go dark.
His right hand, gripping the broom, could no longer muster any strength.
He and his broom were sent flying sideways like a ragged sack, tumbling over a dozen meters!
"Oh! My!"
"Malfoy and Potter have collided!"
"A very intense physical confrontation! Completely within the rules!"
Lee Jordan's voice was filled with shock.
Madam Hooch blew her whistle, but it was only a warning, no penalty.
Quidditch allowed reasonable collisions.
But no one expected Malfoy's seemingly slender frame to hide such terrifying strength!
Harry tumbled several times in the air before barely stabilizing his broom by instinct.
His right arm hung limp, useless, the pain from his shoulder nearly making him faint.
He looked down; the joint of his shoulder was twisted into a grotesque angle.
Dislocated.
Draco slowly flew up to him, looking down from above.
"Potter, you're too weak."
His voice was soft but pierced Harry's heart like an awl.
"Body, equipment, will... everything about you is pitifully weak."
Harry gasped for breath, his forehead covered in cold sweat, gripping the broom tightly with his remaining left hand.
Looking at Draco's face with its elegant smile, he felt, for the first time, a bone-deep fear.
This wasn't a match.
This was a slaughter.
"I don't like the look in your eyes."
Draco's smile faded.
"Resentful and hateful, like a rat in a sewer."
"It seems this isn't enough yet."
He turned his broom, his gaze shifting toward the Slytherin stands.
Pansy immediately understood.
She gestured to the cheerleading girls.
The drumbeats grew passionate again.
This time, their movements were bolder, hotter.
Daphne bit her lower lip, her cheeks flushed with shame and anger.
Pansy's gaze lashed at her like a whip.
She closed her eyes, but her body already performed that rehearsed, humiliating stretching motion.
The silver-green skirts flew high once more.
Draco admired the view for a second, then turned back to look at Harry's pale face.
"Now, the game continues."
He lowered his voice, like a devil's whisper.
"I'll stay with you until you fall, or until a Bludger smashes your head."
"Enjoy it, savior."
Harry's heart sank completely.
Looking into Draco's gray eyes, he saw only the cruelty and pleasure of toying with prey.
He knew his fate today would be worse than death.
Seeing the despair on Harry's face, Draco nodded in satisfaction.
Flying prodigy? savior?
After today, these would be jokes.
He raised his head, scanning the sky above the pitch.
That golden speck hadn't appeared yet.
He had plenty of time to slowly, bit by bit, crush this so-called savior in the clouds.
Draco's lips curled back into that elegant, cold smile.
He urged his broom forward, once again closing in on that shadowy figure swaying in the wind.
This time, he planned to take it even further.