Chapter 137: Malfoy-Style Arrogance
"Oh, Bobby, that's such a shame!"
"Irma, pull yourself together!"
"How am I supposed to cheer up? I didn't see anything—I shouldn't have sat in the stands! That damn tent completely blocked the view…" Irma Pines sighed, slumped onto the table without any regard for appearances, and glanced sideways at Bobby Pomfrey, "I should have volunteered at the makeshift medical tent, lent you a hand or something, and gotten some firsthand gossip while I was at it…"
They were in Madame Patif's Tea House, drinking a pot of strong tea as usual, seasoned with plenty of campus gossip.
"Cheer up, Irma… I've apologized to you for the hundred and first time! You know, I was carrying a whole bunch of towels and didn't have a free hand to grab the two-way mirror—" Mrs. Pomfrey poured her more tea in a conciliatory manner, "See, I'm telling you the whole story now."
"That's not enough!" Mrs. Pince wailed. "Leaving aside the issue of not being able to see the actual scenery, your descriptive ability is terrible, your literary foundation is practically zero, and I can't feel any youth, passion, or tension..."
"I'm a therapist, not a novelist!" Ms. Pomfrey said irritably. "I'm naturally tongue-tied—"
"This isn't a matter of being tongue-tied!" Mrs. Pince's gaunt face showed anger. "At least give me some details! Miss Granger kissed Mr. Malfoy on the shore. That's it? So concise—and that's it?"
Ms. Pomfrey coughed nervously.
"You're just enjoying your own gossip! Hang your two-way mirror around your neck and never take it off again! Or rather, stick it on your forehead..." Mrs. Pince's taut face revealed an unyielding expression.
At this moment, Draco, who was being discussed by these two gossipy CP leaders, was also criticized for "speaking too briefly".
In the common room, several boys, led by Monta, surrounded him, with a group of girls behind them whispering and laughing. "We want to hear the details!"
"I went down to the Black Lake, dealt with a few Grindylows, then went to the mermaid settlement and rescued the man—that's it," Draco said flatly.
He used to enjoy being the center of attention, but now he was somewhat annoyed by the excessive concern shown to him by the Slytherins.
A Slytherin freshman this year—Malcolm Bardock—looked at him with adoration. "Come on, senior, tell me more! Gryffindor's Weasley is already strutting around like a mile a minute! This morning at the Gryffindor dinner table, he made up a sensational kidnapping story, saying that he fought fifty fully armed merfolk with his bare hands! Is that true?"
"Maybe. I don't know how he became a hostage." Draco shrugged, deciding not to expose Ron's thrilling fantasies—boys his age probably enjoyed being the center of attention.
He told the students around him who looked skeptical, "As far as I'm concerned, the hostage rescue process was not fun, it was even a bit boring – there's nothing to say about it."
With Merlin above, Draco had no intention of revealing the specific details of his experiences beneath the Black Lake.
Both jumping into the Black Lake and threatening the mermaid leader with his wand were rather irrational; as for the kiss in the Black Lake, it was a beautiful memory that belonged only to him and Hermione, and he didn't want a third person to know about it.
"So, what's your relationship with Granger?" the group of girls asked him all at once, and Gege grinned foolishly. "In our opinion, you really shouldn't have saved her—you should have just left her at the bottom of the Black Lake!"
"Yes, Durmstrang's warriors would rather forfeit than rescue her. She should weigh her own interests, shouldn't she?" Even a malicious voice drifted out from the crowd, making Draco's brow furrow.
"Yes, Malfoy, you need to be more careful. Watch your hand when you reach out, and be selective about who you help," Monta warned Draco. "That's not a smart move; you'll get yourself into trouble! People will think she's your girlfriend—"
After the Black Lake incident, it was no longer a secret that "Draco Malfoy, the young Slytherin, was particularly interested in Hermione Granger, a Muggle from Gryffindor."
After all, not everyone would jump off a towering platform without hesitation just to rescue an ordinary girl from another department who is completely unrelated to them—especially since this young master is known for being indifferent and aloof towards girls.
No one would ever again think of them simply as study partners, dance partners, or just casual acquaintances from another department. No one believed their relationship was innocent—even Mr. Filch's cat sensed the ambiguity in their relationship.
"Yes, she is." Under the complicated gazes of everyone, Draco calmly admitted, "I'm glad you asked about this."
The Slytherins were all shocked, never expecting that their joking question would receive such a fatal and shocking answer.
"Malfoy—are you insane?" Monta's face contorted for a long time before he finally asked this question.
Draco glanced at him, about to say something, but was interrupted by Pansy Parkinson, who rushed out from the back of the crowd.
"Please, everyone, disperse!" She pushed aside a few girls and said to everyone without any politeness, "Give us some space to talk alone!"
Pansy Parkinson believes that while she wouldn't claim to know everything about Draco's love life, she was at least ahead of others in knowing the inside story. She was surprised to learn yesterday that the two were officially together.
She was in shock for a whole day before she came to her senses.
"Draco, we grew up together, you know I'll respect and support you no matter what you do. But, about Hermione Granger, can you reconsider?" Pansy tried to put on a serious face, attempting to persuade her childhood friend, who had lost her mind, to pull back from the brink. "I know you have feelings for her, but the two of you together won't get any blessings! Look at how people react, don't you understand?"
"I know perfectly well. Their reaction is none of my business," Draco said calmly.
"Wake up! Putting aside the years of hostility, contempt, and disdain between Slytherin and Gryffindor, as long as you're still a Malfoy, you can't possibly be allowed to date a Mud-—" Pansy looked at his rather threatening expression and reluctantly changed her words, "…"
"I think this is something I should be dealing with," Draco softened his tone, but the stubbornness remained in his words.
"Yeah, it's not me who's having a headache! It's not me who's about to tear my family apart, or become enemies with my parents!" Pansy rolled her eyes. "Draco, I understand that boys this age want to be in a relationship, but you have so many options! There's a long line of pure-blood girls in Slytherin waiting for you to make an offer. Seriously, can't you look at the others—"
"Pansy, if one day in the future your father asks you to give up Blaise, what will you do?" Draco's gaze was deep as he suddenly interrupted her long-winded speech.
"Maybe he'll listen to him, maybe he won't. Who can predict the outcome of youthful infatuation?" Pansy said meaningfully, trying to soften Draco's attitude. "You're just acting impulsively right now, and this feeling might dissipate soon…"
"Very good." Draco narrowed his eyes, looking at Blaise who had quietly approached from behind Pansy, and said loudly and clearly, "Pansy, well done, that's the principle to stick to. You're right, who can predict the outcome of youthful infatuation? It's just a momentary lapse of judgment, a fleeting impulse, and that passion might dissipate soon…"
He said with a half-smile, "Then, you'd better explain what you just said to Brace behind you!"
He was pleased to see Pansy's face freeze instantly. The arrogant girl slowly turned her head and saw her boyfriend's sinister smile.
"What you said makes a lot of sense. I completely agree. Actually, it doesn't matter if you don't explain, I don't care." Blaise turned and left, a hint of ferocity in his expression.
"Draco Malfoy, you screwed me over! I'm never doing anything about you again!" Pansy yelled angrily at Draco, not daring to utter any more threats, and hurriedly turned to chase after her furious boyfriend, "Braces, that's not what I meant, wait—"
Theodore Nott sat not far from them, quietly observing the whole thing.
He flipped through his beloved "Practical Potions Master" with little focus, glancing occasionally at Draco's movements. Once the group of Slytherins, some shocked, some disdainful, some curious, had all dispersed, he finally got up and quietly sat down opposite Draco.
"I knew there was something between you two a long time ago, but I still didn't expect things to turn out this way." Theodore gave him a probing look. "What's going on now? When did you two become boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"Yesterday," Draco said calmly, sizing up his childhood friend who rarely took the initiative to talk to him, wondering what kind of advice he wanted to give.
"You idiot! She's a Mudblood!" Theodore's face finally showed an expression other than calm. "Has your brain been eaten by a troll?"
"Theodore, you know how I feel about that title. Don't call her that anymore, never again—" Draco's face darkened, "or we will no longer be friends."
Theodore's expression cracked further. "Are you kidding me?"
"No. I'm serious," Draco said.
"Seriously? Utterly ridiculous," Theodore said softly. "You've been soaking in the Black Lake for over an hour and still can't calm your delirious mind?"
"I'm not out of my mind," Draco said calmly. "I hope that before you say anything or question anything, you first consider this possibility: I genuinely like her—I've liked her for a very, very long time."
"To me, that sounds more like being blinded by lust." The boy looked at Draco thoughtfully. "Back at the ball, you were already a bit out of your mind, completely infatuated with her, even going so far as to challenge Krum."
"I don't deny that I think she's beautiful. But she's not just beautiful, she's intelligent too." Draco shrugged. "Theodore, when did you become so superficial?"
"A girl who is both beautiful and intelligent isn't a rare resource for you," Theodore asked. "Why her of all people?"
"She means a lot to me." Draco didn't intend to elaborate on the conversation, choosing instead to remain vague. "Tell me, why do you harbor such hostility towards her? Just because of her background?"
"Honestly, her background is none of my business; your criteria for choosing a partner are none of my business either. I didn't want to interfere, but I don't want to see my friend go astray," Theodore said with concern.
"If you really consider me a friend, then don't ask any more questions, just support me, okay?" Draco said in a low voice.
"You can't expect me to publicly support you. That goes against one of Nott's principles," the boy said coldly.
"And what about Theodore? What does my friend Theodore think?" Draco asked casually.
"As a friend, the most I can do is not publicly oppose you," Theodore said sternly, pursing his lips. "The most I can do is not call her by that name."
"Typical Theodore Nott—always detached—and I'm so easily satisfied." Draco leaned back lazily on the sofa, looking up at the transparent semicircle carved from crystal on the ceiling and the shimmering light above.
Theodore shook his head in disagreement, somewhat annoyed by his nonchalant attitude. He composed himself and posed a sharp question, "Your friend might be more mindful of your attitude and tone down her form of address; but what if your father insulted her? Would you be able to refuse so decisively?"
Draco remained silent, lost in thought. He was torn between his inner conflict and his own conscience.
Above him, the giant squid that had done such a great service was swooping triumphantly across the glass dome of the ceiling, which brought back memories of everything at the bottom of the Black Lake—the anxiety of searching in vain, the ecstasy of finding what was lost, and the thrill of being on the brink of life and death.
He frowned, but a smile played on his lips. He said, "I will."
"This is the first time I've seen you so arrogant and so irrational. You're creating trouble for yourself, which is completely unnecessary. Do you know what you're about to face? Think about the storms that are about to hit you, can you still laugh? Can love really make someone so blind?" A curious glint appeared in Theodore's eyes—a glint that usually only appeared when he was brewing potions.
"Theodore, this is not blindness." Draco smiled, suddenly realizing he was no longer afraid to look at the water. He smiled knowingly and said to Theodore, "I am not ignoring the impending storm. I am simply willing to face it all."
"Is it worth it?" Theodore asked.
"Absolutely worth it." His grey eyes reflected the ripples of a black lake.
Many tentative conversations took place frequently in the following week.
"Some people say you made the first move—I don't believe it. It must have been the girl who made the first move, right?" On the Quidditch pitch, Slytherin goalkeeper Miles Blatch said to him, "I've never seen you give any girl a kind look!"
"You can believe me." Draco smiled at Miles, who was gaping in astonishment. "It was indeed my initiative."
"If Perrykin were still at Hogwarts, he'd be utterly shocked," said Slytherin Chaser, a smirk on his face. "He even said privately that he thought you'd be all alone by graduation. After all, you were so cold to Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw beauty—"
"You mean last year's Quidditch match?" Draco said helplessly. "Weren't you all quite happy when we won? Now you're complaining that I'm heartless?"
"So, that Gryffindor girl must be pretty cunning, right?" another Chaser, Cassius Warrington, asked curiously. "What kind of magic does she possess—better than all the girls in our Slytherin? Did she drug you?"
"Being with her was a rational choice I made when I was clear-headed," Draco said, suppressing his anger, to his teammates who had various expressions on their faces. "She's the best girl in my eyes. I like her a lot. Doubting her is doubting me, slandering her is slandering me, offending her is offending me. I hope you understand that."
The group of boys shrugged, looked at each other, shook their heads, and walked away.
"Draco, what did they say to you?" Crabbe jumped off his flying broom and walked towards him.
Behind him, Gore also looked tense, stroking the short stick in his hand. "Are they making fun of us again?"
"No. They're gossiping about my love life," Draco said. "Honestly, you guys are doing well. They haven't made fun of you or said anything negative in a long time."
Crabbe and Gore both breathed a sigh of relief.
"Very good. To be honest, even I didn't expect you guys to persevere like this, practicing on your own rain or shine for most of the year without Quidditch. You know what? Monta mentioned it to me the other day, saying you guys are working even harder than some of the regular players on the college team." Draco smiled at them. "Can you feel it? You're being seen, recognized, and respected."
The two brothers exchanged a glance, and their faces lit up with a certain radiance.
"Thank you, Draco," Crabbe said. "If it weren't for your supervision—"
"Don't thank me, thank yourselves," Draco waved his hand and said. "You're the ones who sweat it out on the court every day. Besides, I haven't been supervising you guys for a long time, have I?"
"Oh, we understand." Goyle chuckled, "You have to be busy dating - with Granger who punched you."
"Shut up," Draco said fiercely, his pale face suddenly turning red. He hurriedly said, "Your hitting motions and power are already quite good. Next, you need to make up for your lack of technique. If you keep practicing like this, I think your chances of making the school team next year are very high..."
"Listen, Draco, we won't tell anyone," Crabbe said earnestly. "We—we all support you." Goyle, standing beside him, nodded in agreement, looking sincere.
Draco looked at them in surprise.
He hadn't expected Crabbe and Goyle to make such a statement. In their past lives, although they were foolish, lacked thought, and were indecisive, one characteristic remained obvious from beginning to end: they adhered to the "pure-blood supremacy" concept of pure-blood wizarding families.
Like Draco back then, they never looked down on Muggle-born students.
He originally thought that he shouldn't expect too much from the heartless Crabbe and Goyle—as long as they weren't stupid enough to be ready to throw a Killing Curse at Hermione at any moment, they were still within a manageable range.
However, in this life, something seems to have changed their perception. They even became the first Slytherins to say "support" to Draco.
"Oh—thank you," Draco said to them. "Thank you for saying that."
However, most Slytherins are not as easy to talk to as Crabbe and Goyle.
They tried every means to get information out of Draco, always asking about his relationship with Hermione with a persistent and inquiring attitude, trying to glean some hidden meaning from his attitude.
To this, Draco could only repeat the same thing to the Slytherins who came to inquire: "Yes, she's my girlfriend... I was the one who initiated it... I do like her... No, she didn't do anything to me, I haven't lost my mind."
Draco knew he had to take a firm stance—otherwise she would suffer even more malicious attacks.
Teenagers often possess an unconscious cruelty. They ridicule their peers for various reasons and in various ways, without considering the consequences of their teasing. Even more frightening is that they are unaware of the boundaries of their words and actions; harmless jokes can escalate into unbearable slander, defamation, and malicious attacks.
Draco must make sure that this harm doesn't extend to his girl.
"Ask me any questions you have," he said, suppressing his temper, to the curious Slytherins. "Don't bother her. If I find out anything that you're doing to her—"
He smiled slowly and menacingly, toying with his wand and narrowing his eyes. "I don't know what I might do."
Under such coercion, the turmoil within Slytherin rarely reached Hermione.
A significant number of Slytherins chose to remain neutral. Before figuring out what this bizarre romance truly meant, they neither wanted to rashly take a side nor mindlessly offend anyone.
Some Slytherins from pure-blood wizarding families were particularly sensitive to his astonishing actions. They were both unable to agree with them and full of doubts, often interpreting everything in a negative light.
Even though Draco's attitude had been made quite clear, they still believed that this unruly young master was merely temporarily bewitched, or had unconsciously drunk a gallon of love potion and was still under its effects.
The Slytherins dared not isolate Draco. They were accustomed to categorizing any creature that came into their view into different classes, and Draco Malfoy was clearly at the top of the food chain.
In terms of background, he is the sole heir of the illustrious Malfoy family; in terms of achievements, he is a recipient of the Order of Merlin, Second Class; in terms of ability, whether it is consistently ranking first in final exams, never losing a match in the Duel Club, or his skill in winning people over, this young Malfoy is a true powerhouse among his Slytherin peers.
He even made a name for himself for Slytherin in the Triwizard Tournament—for whatever reason.
"At Hogwarts, only Ravenclaw hasn't actually participated in the Triwizard Tournament yet. I'm even planning to place a bet with the Weasley twins to see if Eagle School will secretly send someone to try their luck in the third tournament…" Blaise said enthusiastically at the Slytherin table.
"Brace, why don't you ask me?" Draco smiled at him meaningfully. "I didn't expect you to be so calm."
"Does asking you change anything? You are still Draco Malfoy—my friend—the sole heir of the Malfoy family—that's enough for me," Blaise said nonchalantly. "Why should I bother? I'm still clueless about matters of the heart myself."
At this moment, he and Pansy had made up and were now feeding each other affectionately.
"It will pass, once they get over the novelty—" Daphne Greengrass said to a girl she was arm in arm with as they passed by. "That's how it is when people first start dating."
"Are you talking about me and Blaise, or are you alluding to Draco?" Pansy glanced at her.
"Both," Daphne said lightly.
"Oh dear Daphne, what's it to you? —" Pansy said in a deliberately affectionate tone, swallowing the grapes Blaise fed her in one gulp. "Tsk, these grapes are so sour — at least we still have a romance to talk about."
So the two girls left with sullen faces.
"I thought you disapproved of me," Draco said casually.
"Yes, I don't approve of what you've done—I still don't—but this is an internal conflict between friends." Pansy rolled her eyes and said, "Do you think I would just sit idly by and mock my friend to my face?"
Draco didn't even bother to lift an eyelid to such sarcastic remarks.
He had long been immune to the gossip and idle chatter of people he barely knew.
This is a common tactic of Slytherins—they take a subtle approach to resisting behaviors they disagree with, unlike the Gryffindors who are straightforward, direct, and bold. Instead, they are better at using subtle attitudes and underhanded words to express their views—such as pouring cold water on them, making sarcastic remarks, launching into a mocking mode, or even secretly tripping them up at certain times. At the same time, they maintain their status and preserve a superficial, false peace.
Compared to them, Theodore's rare sharpness, Pansy's usual outspokenness, and Blaise's indifferent attitude were, for Draco, a kind of silent support.
As for those outside Slytherin, Draco admitted that he had little influence over them.
He couldn't shut up the incessant chatter of the Badgers, nor could he block the inquisitive gazes fixed on Hermione from the Ravens. As for the Gryphon students, they were even further beyond his control.
Every day, a few Gryffindor boys would get furious, especially when they saw Draco strut down the hallway with his arm around Hermione's shoulder.
They were still struggling to cope with the fact that a girl from their house had been abducted by a Slytherin, but there was nothing they could do about it.
"This is an absolute disgrace!" said McClargan, an older Gryffindor boy, angrily in the hallway. "I get so angry seeing how arrogant they are! Is Gryffindor pride so worthless? Does Gryffindor have no boys she can even look at?"
"Alright, Cormac, even Harry Potter didn't say anything, so what right do you have to complain?" another Gryffindor said.
"That's the problem. He should restrain his friend's behavior and correct his friend's wrong thinking!" McClagan said sullenly, staring at the couple's retreating figures. "Someone should remind him to learn to uphold Gryffindor's honor!"
However, to McLagan's surprise, Harry Potter responded to his reminders and questions with a strong argument: "Hermione is not anyone's property, and she has the freedom to choose her boyfriend."
The youngest Hogwarts hero smiled and calmly told him, "No one has the right to control her behavior and thoughts, neither do I, nor do you."
Leaving aside how Harry dealt with such unreasonable demands from some Gryffindor students, Hermione Granger—as "Krumm's jewel stolen by Malfoy"—was frequently ridiculed by the students during this period.
"Treasure, oh treasure—" Outside the herb garden's greenhouse, Zacharys Smith, who always loved to tease people, chuckled and shouted maliciously, "Look, the treasure that everyone's fighting over has arrived! Why didn't you wait for Krum? Malfoy snatched it back instead!"
Hermione was always annoyed by this. The implication of such remarks always made her uncomfortable, as if she were some object to be fought over at will, rather than a free person with independent thought!
What's more, the boys would always make some frivolous whistles, and some girls would look at her with a kind of jealous and resentful gaze, as if they were about to bite her viciously at any moment.
If she were facing all of this alone, she might feel ashamed and angry; but her new boyfriend seemed to have thought of everything—he was always clinging to her.
When he was being maliciously egged on, he would hug her tighter protectively, give the other person a defiant look, and say in a scoundrel-like manner, "Yeah, so what? Smith, do you want to do that 'dribble into the ring' again and get a free throw? I don't think Diggory thinks you're very good at basketball. Will you still be able to make the college team next year?"
Zacharias looked grim—he was still brooding over the defeat he suffered in last year's Quidditch match—and had no desire to tease them anymore.
As for those girls who rudely stared at Hermione, few could withstand the venomous glare of a Slytherin boy—that cold and contemptuous look—they would often shudder and quickly lower their heads.
"I think you've been a bit too high-profile lately, haven't you?" Hermione asked him quietly, blushing.
Draco seems to have abandoned his original reserved facade, becoming extremely outgoing and aggressive.
During this period, he was not only high-profile, but also blatant and unscrupulous, and he launched indiscriminate attacks against anyone who dared to question them in front of her.
"I'm tired of pretending, and I don't want to hide anymore. You're the girl I love, and no one can question that. I want everyone to know that." Draco gently stroked her shoulder, quickly concealing his terrifying expression, and smiled at her.
Hermione Granger, a good Gryffindor student, admits that she likes the roguish, menacing way Draco talks to those people.
His defensive posture always stirred a sweet joy within her shy and uneasy heart.
She was like a fledgling bird he sheltered firmly under his wings, protected from all wind and rain.
"You know, in these kinds of situations, the more you back down and show fear, the more they take advantage of you," Draco said softly. "These bullies never come up with anything new. They can't do anything to you except make sarcastic remarks or look you up and down."
"These alone are enough to keep me going," Hermione said softly, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
"Hermione Granger, are you going to let them get away with this? Are you going to let them be so smug? We haven't done anything wrong. We just like each other, what does that have to do with them?" Draco looked ahead, patted her shoulder reassuringly, and leaned close to her ear to say, "Lift your proud head, and summon your inexhaustible Gryffindor courage. I'll be with you—you're not alone in this—I'll always be with you."
Encouraged, she followed his example, standing tall and proud, pretending not to care about what others thought.
Finally, one day, when another student jokingly teased her, "Oh~ the Gryffindor treasure stolen by Slytherin is here~", she preempted Draco and retorted, "Yeah, so what?"
She likes him, what does that have to do with anyone else? She doesn't have time to worry about such trivial matters.
She was completely absorbed in feeling his "unreserved favoritism" towards her.
"Hermione, you know what? Some of your mannerisms are starting to resemble Malfoy's... a little bit arrogant," Ginny whispered to her.
"Can I take that as—a compliment?" Hermione gave her a Malfoy-esque eyebrow raise, which earned her a helpless sigh from Ginny: "Hermione, you've been completely corrupted by this guy..."
Draco Malfoy felt extremely smug upon hearing this.
He liked that she gradually adopted his style and vibe.
He admired her courage in the face of gossip and her straightforward and open attitude.
He even liked the pride that was inherent in her personality—which was one of the basic traits of the Malfoy family—and was glad that he could bring that trait back to life.
Hermione Granger should never have lived an ordinary life.
He didn't want her to just study, work, and live mindlessly, being suppressed by the inexplicable and rude stares around her until she became a servile and indistinct symbol or shadow.
She should always face all of life's challenges with pride, unafraid of anyone's opinions, and never back down.
Hermione hadn't expected so many twists and turns.
She was pondering a problem: Draco seemed to be completely invading her world, forcefully occupying almost all of her extra time outside of class.
It's not that she didn't like it. They frequently used "studying" as an excuse to date in the private space of the library, as infatuated as any young couple in love.
These dates made "doing homework" more interesting, even though most of the time, homework wasn't the point at all.
"We don't have anything special to do, Harry," Hermione explained to the curious Harry. "It's basically the same as always, you know, doing academic stuff; chatting and saying silly things; occasionally—" Her cheeks flushed, and she couldn't finish her sentence.
Harry smiled knowingly and decided to leave the topic at that, then walked to a corner of the common room to watch Ron dominate with his wizard chess game.
No one is more satisfied with their current situation than Harry.
Hermione hadn't lost her temper in a long time, and she didn't have the energy to force him and Ron to make any study plans anymore; the third event of the Triwizard Tournament hadn't been announced yet, giving him a leisurely adjustment period; the Hogwarts students no longer questioned the legitimacy of his participation, and they cared more about the courage and moral character he displayed in the competition; most importantly, the Dark Lord had disappeared—which was a dreamlike relief for him.
It would be perfect if Cho Chang of Ravenclaw would glance at him occasionally, instead of only giving Cedric her fiery stares. Harry sometimes thought.
After March, the newlywed couple would take a break under the oak trees by Black Lake on sunny days.
Draco Malfoy has fallen in love with the Black Lake again.
He was no longer afraid of water—Hermione's kiss in the lake seemed to have cured his fear of water.
But he would occasionally pretend to have a panic attack, saying he couldn't breathe and asking Hermione to "rescue" him.
Hermione put her book down on the grass, looked down at the boy who was lying on her lap, and said helplessly, "Draco, stop pretending, I know you're alright—"
"Please, help me. I still feel a little scared when I think about it sometimes—" The boy was enthusiastically playing the role of a weak and helpless boy, the sunlight filtering through the trees making his gray eyes look clear and bright.
He tilted his head, afraid Hermione would see the anticipation and joy in his eyes, and sighed exaggeratedly, "I get terrified just thinking about that day in the Black Lake, I could hardly breathe, Hermione—"
"Does anyone else know you're this shameless?" Hermione ruffled his platinum blonde hair, a hint of smugness mixed with disdain.
"No—" the spoiled boy said the word in a roundabout way, overflowing with a coquettish tone.
"I just can't do anything with you." Hermione stopped stroking his hair, her voice tinged with laughter.
She liked that he only acted coquettishly in front of her.
Every time he acted like this, it ended with her giving in.
Hermione couldn't understand why he always liked to ask her for kisses like that.
Or rather, how could she have ever thought he was cold and reserved? In private, he was clearly nothing like those words.
He's obviously incredibly clingy!
Look at him, looking up at her obediently, murmuring his plea to her, eagerly waiting for her to kiss him, smiling like a cunning child who has stolen candy. Who could resist him?
Her lips curved into a soft, sweet smile as she leaned closer to him.
Draco always looked forward to this moment.
He closed his eyes and felt the sunlight in front of him gradually being enveloped by a sweet shadow. A few strands of hair fell around his neck, making his heart itch slightly.
A smile began to unconsciously appear on his lips as he tilted his head back, waiting for her lips to touch.
The sweet young girl's lips were like flowers blooming in early spring, or like honey flowing from a honeycomb. There was also a soft, warm touch as she leaned down and brushed against his earlobe, bringing with her a strange, milky fragrance.
A suspicious blush rose on his face. He grabbed a newly sprouted blade of grass from the ground, kissed it lightly, and secretly opened his eyes to look at her.
The girl closed her eyes shyly, her mesmerizing eyelashes trembling slightly, her face flushed with a rosy pink hue, focused on the soothing and adoring kiss, completely unaware of the close, intimate contact she was causing.
This was the happiest moment of the day for the pretentious, cunning, and two-faced Slytherin boy.