Through the refraction of water, the entire Slytherin common room shimmered with rippling light.
Cradling Crookshanks in his arms, Draco sat expressionless in an ornately carved chair before the fireplace, as though he hadn't heard the teasing voice that had just spoken at all…
The room was dim, its only source of light the flames rising from the hearth.
On the small table beside him lay a badge once meant to support Draco Malfoy. No one knew which little snake had left it there.
Unfortunately, those badges had only been meaningful for a single match. After the first task, the Triwizard Tournament had been canceled, rendering them pointless.
The brilliant golden badge now reflected an eerie green glow…
Draco gave Crookshanks, who was swishing his tail and licking his fur, a casual stroke, then turned his gaze toward the flickering flames in the fireplace.
Within the fire was a head formed entirely of flame, its facial features and expressions startlingly lifelike…
In truth, this was an advanced application of Floo Powder.
There was no need to step fully into the fireplace. Simply placing one's head inside was enough to achieve this effect. The only limitation was that it had to be used within the range of the Floo Network.
What was surprising was that the fireplace in the Slytherin common room had also been connected to the Floo Network.
Perhaps this had something to do with the Malfoy family being part of the school board.
In any case, the long-vanished bestselling author Lockhart appeared before Draco through Floo Powder…
...
Crookshanks let out a comfortable purr.
Draco adjusted his posture slightly.
"Lockhart. Any new information?"
If anyone else had witnessed this scene, they would likely have jumped straight out of their chair in shock.
Emerging from the green flames was Lockhart's head, complete with the tall top hat that never seemed to leave him.
At this moment, Lockhart's entire head was made of fire. He wore a broad grin as he looked in Draco's direction. Clearly, he could see Draco through the flames, speak to him, and hear his words as well.
However, the somewhat unreliable Lockhart didn't answer Draco's question right away. Instead, he brought up something else.
"Tsk, tsk. Before we get to that, dear Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you'd care to explain why you're late?" As he spoke, Draco noticed Lockhart tilt his head slightly, as though checking the time.
For a moment, Draco truly didn't know how to respond.
"....."
"Mmm, looks like you ran into a bit of trouble~ Don't tell me the Dark Lord made a move against you again?"
Seeing Draco remain silent, Lockhart, who clearly thrived on chaos, seemed to have discovered something amusing and grew visibly excited.
In truth, this was nothing more than a probe on Lockhart's part.
It was just that, whether due to his own intuition or a problem with this batch of Floo Powder, Lockhart felt an indescribable sense of dissonance coming from Draco.
It made him curious about what had changed.
Almost like… a wand that had been sheathed.
Outwardly, nothing seemed different. Draco's expression remained blank, and his movements were flawless, beyond reproach. Yet Lockhart's instincts still caught that subtle shift. Perhaps this was one of the reasons this battle-obsessed man had survived for so long…
"I really want to know. You'll satisfy my curiosity, won't you, dear collaborator?"
Watching that head drift closer and farther away, the flames swaying wildly, it almost felt as though Lockhart might step out of the fireplace and into the room at any moment.
Draco, who knew this madman fairly well, had his own way of dealing with him.
Ignore him.
"..."
"All right, all right. I'll just pretend nothing happened."
Lockhart spread his hands, though the smile on his face clearly suggested he hadn't given up.
Draco narrowed his eyes, choosing not to dwell on it.
"So… how are things on my father's side?"
"Ah, your father really is something else. Even I have to admit, the resolve and courage he possesses are far beyond what those rotten, rigid wizarding nobles could ever manage."
"....."
"Looks like Lucius spared no effort when it came to protecting you~"
Lockhart's words made Draco lower his gaze.
"So, my dear collaborator, don't go dying at someone else's hands. If our agreement falls apart because of you, I can't promise I won't do something drastic!!"
"....."
Crookshanks, resting on Draco's lap, seemed to sense the tension and suddenly bristled.
Watching Lockhart's almost manic expression, Draco remained calm. He reached out and gently stroked the unsettled Crookshanks, showing not the slightest sign of being shaken by Lockhart's threat.
Compared to the unhinged Lockhart and the sparks flying from the agitated flames, what concerned Draco far more was the substance of what Lockhart had said.
It seemed that during this period in which Voldemort was secretly gathering strength for his revenge, his father, who never explained anything clearly to him, had already begun making major moves…
...
In this world, there are many things that simply can't be treated as if they never happened.
That line perfectly described Hermione Granger this morning…
"G-good morning."
The hesitant, clear voice belonged to Hermione as she arrived at Draco's long table.
The moment the words left her mouth, Pansy, who was also seated at the table, shot her a distinctly odd look.
A greeting was one thing, but that shy, flustered expression was another matter entirely. Anyone who didn't know better might think Draco had done something to her.
Seeing Hermione with her head lowered, Draco couldn't help recalling the tenderness of the night before. Without realizing it, the look in his eyes softened even more.
That single glance nearly sent Hermione fleeing on the spot…
Completely unaware of the strange tension between the two, Pansy lightly tapped the table, snapping Hermione out of her Draco-only daze.
"I say, Granger, since when did you become this polite? That's really not like you."
Don't be fooled by how courteous Hermione looked. When it came to Draco, she'd never been polite in the slightest.
Maybe it was because of what happened last night. Hermione, who had only just noticed Pansy was there at all, replied distractedly, "Really? Must be your imagination."
Pansy wasn't about to be brushed off that easily.
In fact, the night before, tangled up in worry and unease, Pansy had waited in the common room for Draco to return. What happened, however, was far from what she'd expected…
Not until deep into the night did Draco show up.
Just the fact that she'd stayed in the common room until she could barely keep her eyes open, without seeing Draco even once, was enough to make Pansy suspicious of Hermione.
And yet, for reasons she couldn't quite explain, Pansy couldn't bring herself to be angry with her.
After all, it was something they'd already agreed on…
Just as Pansy and Hermione were silently trading looks, murmurs suddenly rose around them.
"What are they doing coming over here?"
"They're not here to start a fight, are they?"
"That direction is…"
It turned out that Harry Potter was walking toward their table, with Ron Weasley right behind him.
The stir they caused made Pansy and the others look up.
"Harry Potter?"
"What do they want?"
"Don't they look kind of tense?"
"They're not here to see you, are they, Draco?"
The girls seated beside Draco voiced what they were seeing and thinking.
But compared to what Pansy and the others noticed, Draco picked up on something else.
Harry Potter's gaze wasn't on him at all, but instead… on a certain girl sitting beside him.
...
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