Chapter 134: The Treasure Hidden in the Black Lake
"Of course, the head-bubbling spell can solve all these problems!"
Hermione suddenly realized, then said with annoyance, "How could I not have thought of that? And how did he think of it so quickly—he didn't even consult a single book—this isn't something we should know at our age!"
"I don't know," Harry said.
"Where is he? Where did he go?" Hermione asked haughtily, trying not to show that she cared.
"He said he needed to go back to his dorm to get something and asked me to wait here for a moment." Harry sighed in annoyance, finally losing his patience. "Hermione, stop with your lovey-dovey little games. You need to help me figure out the incantation for the Bubble Head Charm."
"We—we're not a couple!" she hurriedly denied, frantically flipping through a thick book. "Besides, I'm looking for it! Time is too tight, I can't guarantee you can learn it in one night! Why don't you try asking Professor Snape if he'd be willing to provide you with gill sac grass?"
"Him?" Harry said irritably. "He's probably just waiting to see me make a fool of myself!"
"You can't think like that. This isn't a regular Potions class; this is a life-or-death situation!" Hermione's fingers slid rapidly across the book, searching for the Bubble Head Charm. "Dumbledore always believed in him! He wanted to save you in your first year, and he did in your third! If he really wanted you dead, why didn't he just let you die back then?"
"I don't know—maybe he thinks Dumbledore will kick him out—" Harry said irritably. "I've given up on him! Where does this naive delusion of yours come from?"
"That's not wishful thinking! Since he could miraculously save you the first time, the second time, why can't he break the rules and save you a third time?" Hermione said. "You have to see what's hidden beneath his stern face and sarcastic lips—"
Harry's face darkened. "I still vividly remember him framing me for stealing from him. I don't want to see his smug look in his eyes now and admit that I have any interest in his private storage room! He might just find a reason to lock me up in solitary confinement, preventing me from even participating in the competition."
"Oh, Harry, look what this book says—though I hate to admit it—Draco is right! The Bubble Head Charm isn't much easier than transforming yourself into a submarine! It's very dangerous to cast a spell without fully mastering it!" Hermione slammed the book aside—startling Neville, who was studying his Transfiguration exercises—and began to offer him other advice, "Go ask Sirius if he can get you some gill sac grass. You know, you have a competition tomorrow!"
"I can't find him!" Harry said. "Professor McGonagall said he was one of the rescuers for the match and was called away to prepare for it."
"So why didn't you tell Sirius the truth sooner? Why didn't you tell us the truth sooner?" Hermione said angrily. "Even if you could have—"
"Oh, just shut up for a bit, Hermione," Ron said impatiently. "Harry, I know what to do. Go back to your dormitory now and bring me your Invisibility Cloak. I'm going to Professor Snape's private storage room."
"No—" Harry refused.
"Listen, Harry, you can't afford to make any mistakes right now, and you definitely can't get caught and put in solitary confinement; but I'm fine," Ron said sternly. "Hurry up, I'll be waiting for you here!"
Harry glanced at his friend and strode towards the library entrance.
"Hurry up, run there!" Ron said, glancing at the clock on the wall; there were still 25 minutes until closing time.
Harry ran away in a panic.
Not long after, a hurried figure reappeared by the bookshelf. It wasn't Harry's, but Professor McGonagall's.
"Oh, it's good to see you here," Professor McGonagall said sternly. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, come with me."
"But we're waiting—" Ron stammered.
"What happened, Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked.
"You have been chosen as the Warriors' Treasures. Professor Dumbledore will explain the details to you," Professor McGonagall said, glancing at the figure in the corner desperately trying to curl up into a ball. "Mr. Longbottom, don't try to hide yourself, I've seen you! Please keep this a secret until the tournament begins, and don't tell anyone!"
When Harry Potter ran back to the library, panting, the books on the desk were still open, but the seat was empty.
He stood there, stunned, wondering if he'd come to the wrong place. Ron had said he'd wait for him here; yet he looked left and right, and Ron was nowhere to be seen.
"Oh, you're here." Draco strolled over from the bookshelf and tossed a package to Harry. "Here you go."
Harry took it, opened it, and saw that the lump of stuff—which looked like countless slippery, grayish-green mouse tails—was indeed a gill sac plant. His eyes widened. "How did you get that?"
"Have you forgotten that I have some connection with Professor Snape?" Draco said casually, without telling Harry that he had prepared this a month ago.
"Where's Hermione?" he asked.
"I don't know," Harry said, puzzled, exchanging a glance with Draco. "She was just here a moment ago."
Regardless of whether Ron and Hermione's whereabouts remain a mystery, February 24th arrived as scheduled.
Since 8:30 a.m., a surge of people has been pouring out every minute along the roads leading to the entrance to the Black Lake barge.
At this moment, Harry, his face ashen, stood at the entrance of the barge, the bright sunlight shining on his cold face, as students in front of him boarded the barge one by one, heading to the competition venue.
"Don't be nervous, just eat that thing after the whistle blows," Draco patted Harry on the shoulder, reassuring him.
"Thank you," Harry said gratefully, feeling as if a golf ball was stuck in his throat. He glanced at the crowd in the distance, his face turning slightly pale. "Ron and Hermione haven't shown up yet—"
"It's alright, they should be here soon." Draco glanced at the crowd nearby and said urgently, "You need to get on the ship quickly, the competition is about to start. Remember, don't let your wand out of your hand! Try not to fight the mermaids hand-to-hand, okay?"
It's no wonder Draco thought so much. First-year trolls, second-year basilisks, third-year werewolves... it seems that every year, Hogwarts would absurdly produce some kind of tough-skinned, thick-fleshed, and magic-resistant monster, wanting to fight Harry bare-handed.
Harry nodded to him, then stepped heavily onto the warriors' special boat. He hadn't been a while when the boat headed towards the warriors' platform in the Black Lake.
Draco watched him leave with a blank expression, but his heart was pounding.
Ron was Harry's treasure—his disappearance was perfectly understandable. Draco, however, couldn't say so openly, because he had absolutely no way of knowing the details of such a confidential match.
But where did the girl who was often stared at by him until her face turned red go?
He had initially thought that she had fled yesterday because she was embarrassed by his staring; however, he searched through the Marauder's Map but could not find any trace of her, as if she had been erased by some kind of powerful magic.
He originally thought that she would no longer have any chance of being involved in the competition—since Krum's dance partner was not her, she naturally didn't need to be a pathetic "warrior's treasure"!
However, with Harry's match imminent, Hermione's whereabouts remain unknown, which is completely out of character for her.
An ominous premonition gripped his heart. Draco, his face stiff—having served as a human billboard at the entrance for so long—was coldly scrutinized by the passing students. Only when the last group of visitors boarded the barge did he finally abandon this brief stint of business, which he had never enjoyed in the first place.
"What are you waiting for?" Blaise shouted, waving at him. "Get on the boat quickly, the race is about to begin!"
"I bet he's waiting for some girl." Pansy grinned and made a face at the boy who was boarding the ship. "Hey, Draco, maybe she stood you up and went to the stands to grab a good seat."
"It's hilarious," Draco said sullenly, clearly not finding it funny.
Before long, the barge arrived at the foot of the towering viewing platform standing on the Black Lake, where the noise of the crowd echoed illusoryly across the lake.
Between the stands were small platforms where the warriors prepared to depart. Draco looked down from the stands and saw several figures standing on the platforms in the distance. One of the figures had a particularly striking silver beard—Professor Dumbledore was in position.
This means that the referees have also arrived at the platform where the Warriors are preparing to depart.
He squinted, watching the warriors. They were lined up on the platform, preparing for their entry into the water.
Bagman's thunderous voice swept across the dark lake as he read out the rules of the game. Draco paid no attention to the long-winded explanations; he hurried past the dawdling Crevy brothers, through the crowd, and straight to his seats in the stands.
There were many Gryffindor students here, but still no sign of Hermione. He looked again and again, and finally spotted a familiar, pesky fellow—Neville Longbottom. The round-faced boy was sitting on one side of the stands, muttering something to himself, seemingly lost in thought.
"Longbottom, have you seen Hermione?" He took a long stride and stood directly next to Longbottom, giving the boy, who was lost in thought, a heavy pat.
"Malfoy!" Neville was so startled by the slap that his face turned pale. He almost jumped up from his seat. "She...she...I don't know...Can I say...has the match started?"
"Of course it's starting! Didn't you hear what Bagman was saying?" Draco threatened him coldly. "I suggest you tell me before I throw you into the Black Lake—"
"She…she was called away by Professor McGonagall, and Ron…Professor McGonagall said…the two of them are the heroes' treasures!" Neville stammered.
A warrior's treasure? A surge of anger suddenly welled up in Draco's heart.
What the hell are these damn referees doing? Why is Hermione still a prized possession of the Warriors?
Viktor Krum—and Hermione isn't his dance partner! He gritted his teeth, thinking ominously.
Neville blinked, observing Malfoy's murderous gaze, thinking he was still holding a grudge about his partnership with Hermione.
He hurriedly explained, so anxious that even his stuttering disappeared: "Listen to me, I didn't mean to choose Hermione as my partner. I actually asked to switch with you several times. Can you please stop glaring at me in class?"
As he watched Malfoy's face grow increasingly pale, his heart pounded with anxiety, feeling as if he might be thrown into the Black Lake by this menacing figure at any moment.
Suddenly, a sharp whistle echoed through the cold, still air. Then came the splash of the warriors entering the water, mingled with cheers and applause from the spectators in the stands.
Amidst the cacophony of noise, Bagman's amplified voice stood out starkly. He announced regretfully, "I have an emergency to announce: Durmstrang's warrior, Krum, has had to withdraw from the second event due to health reasons..."
An uproar erupted in the stands.
"What happened in Krum?" People looked at each other and asked in unison.
Draco overheard a group of infatuated girls beside him frantically asking each other:
Is he alright?
"Something really bad must have happened."
I hope he's alright...
"He didn't come? What about his treasure?" Rarely, Neville quickly grasped the crux of the matter, and he said, somewhat dazed, "Will the treasure remain at the bottom of the lake? Nobody goes there—"
The angry boy beside Neville didn't answer. Neville quickly turned around, only to find that the boy had vanished.
Following the direction from which the students' exclamations erupted, Neville saw Malfoy.
The boy had already strode onto the edge of the towering stands.
His long, slender fingers swiftly untied his black wizard's robe, crumpled the exquisite fabric into a ball, and, as if he had eyes in the back of the head, threw it towards Neville, landing precisely on Neville's head.
When Neville pulled the robe off his face, he only saw a flash of platinum light. His mouth dropped open, and he rushed to the edge of the stands, where he saw a dark figure plunging straight into the cold, iron-gray lake.
"What did I do?" Neville turned around and shouted frantically at the people in the stands, "Someone jumped into the lake! Draco Malfoy was so angry with me that he jumped into the lake!"
(Draco: Well said, don't say that again.)
Like a tiny pebble, the boy threw himself into the bone-chilling lake without hesitation.
He paid no heed to the screams from the stands, and just before entering the water, he cast a head-soaking spell on himself.
Fortunately, Draco had already mastered the Bubble Head Charm. On the very first day Harry received the golden egg, he had secretly prepared two contingency plans for Harry:
If Harry's study of the golden egg drags on until the last minute, he will take out the gill sac grass and force it into Harry's mouth before the competition—he can't let the youngest hero of Hogwarts drown in the Black Lake, can he?
If Harry had discovered the truth about the golden egg sooner, he might have learned the Bubble Head Charm or even the Transfiguration Charm. Rather than having Hermione as Harry's teacher, Draco decided it was better for him to teach him himself—to avoid any annoying gossips spreading, like they did when they were researching the spell to deal with the dragon.
To this end, he spared no effort and studied these incantations thoroughly in advance.
However, Draco never expected that the Bubble Head Curse would eventually be used on him.
He never imagined that he would walk right into a trap and fall into this dark and cold water.
Draco can't swim. Most tragically, he's still afraid of water. The terrifying memory of the water tank inflicted on him by the fake Professor Moody still haunts him, and he remains terrified of water.
Merlin, he even hated the water.
He was probably the most muddle-headed fool in the world. Faced with what he feared, instead of protecting himself, he recklessly plunged into the deep, icy depths of the February lake.
He could already imagine the mockery he would receive from all of Slytherin—but he didn't care.
He also thought of Lucius and Narcissa's annoyed expressions—but he didn't care.
He only cares about her.
After shivering and adjusting to the dim light at the bottom of the lake, Draco was finally able to see his surroundings clearly.
It was a strange, hazy, and eerie scene. The undulating, tangled water plants resembled a jungle, and glittering pebbles were scattered on the wide, flat mud and sand. Nimble little fish, like clusters of silver darts, darted past him.
It looked much the same as when he used to look out of his dorm room, even though he hadn't dared to look out for a long time.
He had no interest in appreciating any of it. The lake was terrifyingly deep and painfully cold.
Even with the protection of the Bubble Head Curse, he still felt a deep sense of suffocation in his soul.
However, at this moment, he miraculously suppressed his physical instinct to return to the shore.
There was one thing he had to do. He had to find her.
Bitterly cold, Draco swam straight toward the dark, hazy center of the lake—he guessed that the spark of life within him lay there.
The silent depths of the Black Lake concealed many dangers. Draco chose to act quickly. He dealt with a few troublesome Grindylos lurking in the weeds, inwardly thanking Lupin for his dedicated teaching during their third year—determined to give him a raise when they graduated—and decided to swim higher, further away from the weeds.
However, he soon lost his sense of direction.
It's too quiet here, deathly quiet. He used to love this quiet, but now he misses the hustle and bustle of crowds.
That's when the giant squid appeared. It lazily circled Draco, seemingly unsure of his intentions, and shook its massive tentacles in confusion.
Draco, seeing that it seemed harmless, cautiously asked, "Do you know where they are? The mermaids?"
After asking, he felt a pang of guilt. How could a giant squid understand human language? Unexpectedly, the giant squid shook one of its giant tentacles at him.
Draco had a strange feeling—it was gesturing for him to follow.
And so he struggled to follow the giant squid, swimming toward that unknown, seemingly endless darkness.
He swam for a very long time, until he was almost frozen stiff, when he finally saw a large expanse of black silt surging at the bottom of the lake. In the dark eddies, a large rock was faintly visible in the murky lake water, seemingly depicting patterns of mermaids and giant squid.
The giant squid stopped here and slapped the pattern on the large rock—a pattern of a mermaid chasing a giant squid with a spear—as if it were throwing a tantrum.
"Thank you," Draco said to its retreating back, his voice muffled as it came from the bubble. The giant squid swayed its enormous tentacles impatiently—as if it were time to clock out—and swiftly turned and swam away along the same path without stopping.
Just then, Draco heard an ethereal, mournful song echoing across the lake, stirring his heartstrings. It grew clearer and clearer, just like his own heartbeat.
"There's only one hour left."
We must find and reclaim the items we took..."
He knew he had come to the right place—she must be nearby.
This realization overcame his confusion and panic, overcoming his hesitation and doubt. With her in his heart, his expression remained firm as he swam forward, following the increasingly loud singing.
He swam past the rough stone dwellings stained with algae, past the ugly mermaids peeking out from inside with malicious smiles, and past one or two Grindylos chained up like pets. With a drumbeat of worry and anxiety playing in his heart, he finally arrived at the square of the mermaid village.
She was there. Draco's spirits lifted.
He spotted her immediately.
His girl, his most secret fantasy, his deepest longing, the source of his madness, his Hermione.
She remained heartbreakingly still. Her thick hair, like brown seaweed, floated weakly in the water. In a panic, he rushed over, leaving the cold, fear, and panic behind.
As he got closer, he discovered that she was tied to the tail of a giant mermaid statue. Her head slumped limply on her shoulder, lifeless—a sight that filled him with despair.
For a fleeting moment, her lifeless, pale face seemed to overlap with a scene from her past life.
Hermione, Hermione, Hermione.
Draco could barely breathe. The sight had ripped his internal organs apart, leaving him utterly devastated and heartbroken.
However, she still had a sliver of life left. Tiny bubbles occasionally escaped from her mouth, the only evidence that she was still alive.
Thanks to the beautiful bubble, he hadn't died immediately; his shattered heart was temporarily revived with hope. He rushed over and embraced her, only to find her bound by thick, slippery ropes, and his heart ached once more.
He cursed under his breath and desperately began to tear at the sturdy ropes, hoping to free her as quickly as possible.
Harry Potter had been lingering near the Mermaid statue for quite some time.
Everything went surprisingly smoothly underwater. Thanks to the gills, he grew gills—making him look like a half-human, half-fish monster—and thus moved freely underwater. Then, Myrtle pointed him in the right direction, and he found Ron without much trouble. He had already cut the seaweed rope in Ron's hand with a sharp stone.
The only problem is that the mermaids won't let him rescue any more hostages.
He spoke for a long time with a seven-foot-tall merman leader—who could now speak the merman language—trying to reason with the ugly creatures with green hair and yellow eyes so that he could rescue the rest of the people; but the merman leader with the spear just laughed and refused him, while the mermen with large gray hands kept surrounding him, preventing him from making any rescues.
Just as he was getting angry at these unreasonable merfolk, one of them suddenly stretched out his arm and pointed behind him. He turned around and saw a figure swimming towards him.
"He must be hallucinating from anger," Harry thought bitterly. "What kind of warrior would have hair that color?"
Or rather, who else besides Draco would have such striking hair?
Harry was even more surprised as the boy drew closer.
That wasn't some hallucination of being so angry that you saw stars; it was the real Draco Malfoy, the platinum boy of Slytherin.
The boy's expression was off. Harry had never seen Draco so desperate. He was panicked, desperate, and vulnerable; his usually indifferent face was now filled with madness.
Harry shook his fish head, feeling that his head might have—through the newly grown gills—entered the waters of the Black Lake.
How could this be? The boy who was least likely to appear at the bottom of the lake suddenly appeared in front of him, with the most incomprehensible expression.
But when the boy swam swiftly past him without even glancing at him, Harry suddenly had a revelation.
That was absolutely the real Draco. His target was so clear, his eyes so earnest. His gaze remained fixed on one person.
He came for Hermione. She was always in his eyes—only her.
Harry suddenly remembered the night he discovered the Dark Mark; he caught a glimpse of Draco protecting Hermione out of the corner of his eye.
That resolute expression, that decisive action—it's exactly the same as it is now.
At this moment, the single-minded boy, true to form, swam straight toward Hermione and, unusually, abandoned his intelligence, clumsily trying to untangle the ropes with his hands.
Seeing Draco act so foolishly made his trip worthwhile. Harry suppressed a strange smile, understood perfectly, swam over, patted Draco heavily on the shoulder—startling the boy on the verge of madness—and shoved a rock into his hand.
"Harry!" Draco finally noticed the dark-haired boy behind him. He looked at the sharp rock in his hand and understood. He mumbled "Thank you" and began to cut the ropes with the rock, his hands trembling, careful not to hurt his girl.
Harry exhaled a string of bubbles, patted him approvingly on the shoulder, and went to find a new, sharp rock.
At this moment, the meddlesome merfolk gathered around. They seemed to realize that he wasn't one of the warriors, so they stopped Draco, preventing him from cutting the ropes and taking Hermione away.
Yes, perhaps only a warrior could take her away. But his poor Hermione, no warrior would come to her rescue, Draco thought bitterly.
She only has him.
Draco had no time to speculate about the mermaids' joys and sorrows, or their thoughts. Time was ticking away, and the Bubble Head Curse had a time limit; he couldn't afford to linger too long.
So, with a heart full of despair, he took out the magic wand from his waist, pointed it forcefully at the mermaids, hid his fear and helplessness, and showed his cold indifference, looking at them coldly.
"Let us go," he threatened, even though he knew they wouldn't understand, "or I'll turn you into soup on the Hogwarts table."
The mermaids never expected to encounter such a scene. They were skilled in water, but they were afraid of magic wands.
Although they didn't understand human language, they understood human nature. They saw a kind of desperate determination in the eyes of the boy who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
There was a madness in the boy's gray eyes, a power that burned deep inside.
After a few seconds of hesitation, they scattered, watching the boy with fear. They whispered among themselves as he desperately used the sharp edge of the rock to cut the rope, again and again, trying to sever the shackles of freedom, to cut the injustice of fate, to cut through all the barriers that stood between him and her.
The rope snapped. Draco hurriedly caught the girl he had just found, fearing she would drift away with the current. She was unconscious, nestled in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, clinging to him as she had when she was conscious.
Yes, it was her. He felt relieved, but also came to his senses. As reason returned to his mind, he felt the air in the bubble bath gradually thinning—he had to swim back immediately.
He put the wand back on his waist, said "thank you" to Harry again, and gave a forced smile.
Harry nodded to Draco and waved his webbed hand, signaling him to hurry up.
Harry was inevitably stirred by Draco's actions.
In the frigid Black Lake, he unexpectedly discovered Draco's hidden, burning emotions—manifested in a kind of mad and violent form—that almost brought the cold water to a boil.
This is extremely rare. It is very, very rare for a Slytherin, who is extremely risk-averse and a precocious boy who often lectures him with a stern face, to break the rules and panic so much for someone.
This completely shattered Harry's previous understanding of Draco. He knew Draco liked Hermione; he had known for a long time. However, he had never imagined that such sincere and passionate feelings would emerge so profoundly in a Slytherin.
For a long time, many people have asked Harry why he would befriend Draco, a Slytherin. Now he seems to have found the final answer—the seemingly cold boy is not cold at heart, but rather harbors a deep fire within.
Now, a spark from the fire landed on Harry, giving him a bit of inspiration.
Harry drew his wand from his waist and, like Draco, said bluntly to the rule-bound merman leader, "Let me take the rest of the hostages, or I'll turn you all into fish soup!"
The merman leader was still shaken by Draco's actions and had long since stopped laughing; at this moment, seeing Harry imitate him and hearing Harry's words, the merman leader's face twisted in disgust.
Draco was no longer concerned about whether Harry's actions behind him were too reckless.
He gazed upwards, his arm around the girl's waist, trying to float upwards as quickly as possible.
He had to hurry, much faster, before the air ran out. She had to be safe.
He was certain they were still very deep underwater—the pitch-black surface was the best evidence.
How exhausted he was, after all the hardships he had endured on the lake. He shouldn't have been here. He wasn't an experienced warrior; he was just an unprepared spectator, a coward who would never put himself in danger.
But he couldn't rest, nor could he afford to panic. Before he could breathe, he had to do one last thing: send her up, to the surface of the lake in the light, away from the dark depths.
The bubble head was teetering on the brink of collapse. Draco admitted he wasn't a master of the Bubble Head Charm. He'd only learned it to teach Harry. He was nearing his limit by the time he'd managed to hold on this long.
Besides, he was moving more slowly than he had come. On the way back, he carried the sleeping Hermione in his arms. Was it heavy? No.
That was the sweetest burden in the world, an obsession he would never let go of.
The air inside the hot water bottle was already thin. He was like a novice overestimating his abilities, preparing to climb to the summit of a snow-capped mountain.
As his lungs reached their limit, Draco finally saw the water growing lighter in color. With his last ounce of strength, he raised his arms and hurled his mad obsession upwards—his sweet, brown hair vanished—the bubble head vanished in an instant.
In an instant, those dark memories swept over him.
Draco remembered the feeling of choking in the water tank. Helpless, powerless, terrifying. All remaining consciousness vanished—leaving only the real sensation of suffocation.
A surge of warmth welled up in his eyes, but that warmth was instantly swallowed by the cold, insignificant and negligible; just as he was, he too was about to sink into this dark lake of despair, becoming a drop in the ocean, unable to struggle any longer.
Exhausted and utterly despondent, he sank deep into the lake.
Hermione opened her eyes.
One second she was standing in Professor McGonagall's office, hypnotized by Professor Dumbledore's magic and drifting into a warm dream; the next second she was suddenly awakened, shuddered, and found herself in a freezing lake.
Her head surfaced, and she heard distant cheers coming from the stands above. She gasped for breath, bobbing up and down on the lake, her mind reeling.
In an instant, she looked around—where was the hero who saved her?
At this moment, fragmented memories gradually surfaced—it seemed as if a force had just pushed her up.
Was it a dream or an illusion? Just then, she spotted a dim, swaying shadow beneath the lake.
It looked like a human shape, Hermione thought, waving her arms in the water. Through the violently swaying waves, she could vaguely make out a white shirt and black trousers, and a few specks of gold.
In that instant, she suddenly remembered that when she woke up, someone had indeed pushed her upwards with force.
Who exactly is that person?
That golden color, which should never have appeared in the lake, is—
A sense of familiarity confused her, while a possibility terrified her.
Hermione opened her eyes wide, took a breath on the lake surface, pinched her nose, and plunged into the icy, frigid center of the lake.
Suddenly, she saw a terrifying truth.
Platinum blonde hair, a pale, helpless face, and tightly closed eyes floated in the water. He possessed a heartbreakingly desolate beauty, a strange, numb smile, drifting with the current as his body slowly sank.
That's not some damned warrior! Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, the lake water stinging and hurting her eyes.
It was Draco—that bastard who could torment her heart with just a glance.
He was the person she had always silently longed for in her heart.
No—she couldn't believe it; it made no sense.
He was terrified of water—so terrified that he couldn't sleep in his dormitory at the bottom of the Black Lake!
How did he end up here?
"Oh God!" she cried out in her heart. She swam rapidly, her arms outstretched, swimming down to him, to him. She shook his shoulders with both hands, trying to make him open his eyes and look at her, trying to bring him to his senses.
Draco was on the verge of drowning. The feeling of oxygen deprivation in his brain, the fear of constantly choking on water, and the emptiness of exhaustion made it difficult for him to even lift his hand.
Before he sank, the only thing he was certain of was that she had surfaced.
That's good, she's alright.
He smiled, closed his eyes, and slowly slid down the lake. His body was numb from the icy water, the chill penetrating to his very bones, gradually bringing him a slight warmth.
The hallucinations occur at this time.
In the darkness, it seemed as if a pair of arms encircled his neck, and something so delicate it made his heart tremble touched his lips and pried open his teeth—someone was breathing on him.
He may have encountered a miracle.
No one can save him—how could anyone save him?
That awful, gloomy, cold, numb him.
He was at the bottom of the lake... He was in purgatory... He was in the abyss...
He was exhausted. He struggled to open his eyes, wanting to persuade the person trying to redeem him to give up. But in the fleeting light, he saw Hermione's bright eyes watching him with concern.
Oh—his Hermione.
His secret. His fantasy. His obsession. His foolish, greedy desire.
Her lips were pressed against his, and a breath of oxygen entered his mouth. He could breathe again.
It was her. Her eyes were glistening with a gentle, watery light.
He saved her. She then saved him.
They kissed quietly in the cold, dark depths of the lake, in a way that symbolized their inseparable bond.
The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.
It was as if everything had stopped, and only he and she remained in the world, gazing at each other and kissing.
They fell, fell, and kept falling.
Falling into the abyss, falling into darkness, falling into love.
Draco breathed in her scent and wrapped one arm around her waist.
This stubborn girl, she just had to come back to find him!
She brought him back to life; he would never let anything happen to her.
Draco's grey eyes were no longer dull and lifeless, but instead revealed a bright, faint smile.
The oxygen restored his thinking ability, and he finally had the strength to reach for the wand at his waist. He embraced her and silently cast a spell—they surged upwards from the water and leaped to the surface.
So, being rescued was that simple. Draco floated on the water, lost in thought. Just one step away, just one step away from her taking the first step toward him.
The stands were already buzzing with excitement.
Sirius Black's hair was completely soaked. He leaned over the platform and reached out to them, first helping Hermione to the shore, then Draco.
"Where is Harry? Have you seen him?" Sirius asked his nephew anxiously.
"He's behind me, he'll be up soon," Draco said, trembling.
Sirius was finally relieved.
"You idiot, you Slytherin womanizer!" he laughed as he pulled the soaking wet boy up and whistled at him.
Draco stood shivering in the cold air, frowning at Sirius's mocking expression, feeling as if Sirius could see right through him. He retorted irritably, "Shut up—"
However, he had no time to utter any more vehement rebuttals to Sirius, because Ms. Pomfrey suddenly rushed over in a great fuss, stood in front of the people around him, draped thick towels and blankets over him, and poured a fiery stimulant into his mouth.
A burst of hot air suddenly escaped from his ears and dissipated into the damp, cold air.
"Severus recently improved it so it doesn't smoke for hours on end," Ms. Pomfrey said happily. "It only needs to smoke once; he's so ingenious!"
"I'm so happy to hear this good news," Draco said, trembling. "Thank you."
The sudden warmth made Draco realize just how cold he was. He was shivering uncontrollably. Hermione, wrapped in a large towel, rushed over, grabbed another dry towel, and draped it over Draco again.
Draco was still trembling. He suddenly realized what he had done. He had jumped into the Black Lake and struggled in the vast, terrifying water for a full hour.
He didn't know how he did it, nor how he found her.
Seeing his pitiful state, Hermione was heartbroken. She draped herself and the towel over him and asked in a pained tone, "Why—why are you so foolish? Don't you not know how to swim? Aren't you always afraid of water? Are you crazy?"
"I didn't think too much about it at the time. I was just focused on finding you." Draco sneezed, his already pale face turning blue from the cold.
"I'm just staying underwater temporarily as Krum's treasure, they won't do anything to me!" Hermione frowned, looking at his face, but still didn't let go of his hand.
"No! No! They need to know…you are my treasure…not his." His teeth chattered from the cold, his face contorted as he spoke. "I promised you that leaving you behind would never happen…never!"
He promised her that night at the Quidditch World Cup.
She said that being abandoned felt terrible... she hated it.
A Malfoy wouldn't easily let go of what he should hold onto. He wouldn't easily let go of her.
"Weren't you supposed to be playing it safe? Weren't you supposed to be weighing your options carefully? Weren't you supposed to be selfish?" Hermione pouted, suddenly feeling utterly deceived. "Weren't you supposed to be distrustful of people? Weren't you supposed to be unnoble, ungenerous, and unselfish? What are you doing now?"
"You—are different," he said stubbornly in a low voice. "You're not like them."
"You fool, you fool—" Hermione said, her voice trembling with tears.
There was an intense pain mixed with profound emotion in her eyes. She was unable to hold back her tears.
Seeing her tears, he panicked. He once again abandoned his pride and struggled to say, "I'm so sorry. I said the wrong things, I did the wrong things. I shouldn't have hurt you. I'll try to change, okay? Don't be angry with me anymore, okay?"
"No, Draco, stop… I just can't let go of my pride… I was so stupid… I'm not angry with you anymore." She sobbed, stroking his wet face with both hands, kissing his forehead several times in public, then hugging him tightly and burying her face in his shoulder.
"Ah…youth…" Ms. Pomfrey, standing to the side, wiped away tears of emotion from the corners of her eyes with a dreamy expression.
"By Merlin, I will never say Draco Malfoy was calm and collected again! Look at the way he jumped in!" Ginny's exaggerated voice echoed around them as she rushed over to check on the situation. "Those Slytherins were terrified! Hermione, you should have seen their faces!"
"Draco's just plain stupid. Nothing's going to happen to us, why would he jump into the lake and freeze for an hour?" Ron, wrapped in a thick blanket, said helplessly, "I thought he was more mature than his peers, but now it seems he's just as silly as Harry! No, no, no, Percy, don't do this! Don't come any closer, let go of me, I'm fine!"
The results of the competition were announced shortly afterward.
Harry received extra points for saving two people—Ron and Fleur's sister Gabrielle—and tied for first place with Cedric.
With Furong failing midway through the match and Krum forfeiting, their points suddenly dropped significantly.
Although Draco was not a warrior, his act of saving people, like Harry's, embodied the spirit of Hogwarts and its noble moral character, for which Dumbledore added 50 points to Slytherin's score.
A cheer suddenly erupted from the Slytherin stands, which had been filled with boos.
"You two are something else, Harry! And Draco!" Ron yelled through the commotion, flapping his wings like a duck in Percy's eager embrace. "So you weren't being silly, you were putting on a moral display! Percy, please, let me go!"
Hermione paid no attention to anything around her. She paid no attention to the conversations of those around her, to Bagman's amplified voice, or to the commotion on the distant platform.
She only cared about the platinum-haired boy she was holding, whose face was pale from the cold.
She never wanted to let go again.
When a person is willing to overcome their greatest fear and risk their life just to save another person, all the past awkwardness and conflicts between them seem insignificant.
Yes, he has always been self-protective, calculating, and selfish. He has never been noble, generous, or selfless, let alone compassionate. He has never hidden these things from her.
His inner world was always incredibly narrow. He was always prejudiced and arrogant, cold and indifferent to many. He found it difficult to open his heart or place his trust in others. Beneath his calm mask lay madness, and within his outwardly restrained nature lay an infuriating, even monstrous, side—
But he was never heartless towards her. In his narrow world, there was always a place for her. He tried to be honest with her; he told her so many secrets, and he never lied to her. Time and time again, he saved her without hesitation.
He always favored her—abandoning all his principles—and loved her with all his might, losing his mind and trying his best to please her.
"You bastard...you fool..." She stroked his pale face, crying even harder. Between sobs, she showered his cheeks with kisses.
"Yes, it is." He trembled, forcing a smile amidst her shower of kisses, as if he had received the greatest reward of his life.
In Hermione Granger's blurry vision, three things were certain of her:
First, Draco Malfoy is still a bastard.
Secondly, Draco Malfoy was also a fool.
Third, she fell hopelessly in love with this jerk and fool.