The moment Hermione saw Draco, she was reminded of how weak he had looked that night.
To be honest, it was hard to connect that image of him—worn out and pale—with the smug, smirking guy now sitting in front of her. It made the gentleness he'd shown that night feel like something she'd imagined entirely.
She shook her head firmly and ignored the plate of white weasel sandwiches on the table. Trying to sound casual, she asked...
"Are you... feeling better?"
"Yeah, nothing much. I was fine after a day of rest."
"Tch."
Draco...
Magical exhaustion was absolutely not something you bounced back from after a single day like he claimed.
Magic didn't come from nothing. Besides following the rule of equivalent exchange, anything borrowed had to be repaid.
And the cost of magical exhaustion wasn't just about regaining lost power—it meant sacrificing future potential. In other words, the damage was irreversible, far from the way Draco was brushing it off.
Well... normally, anyway.
'Could this be a blessing in disguise?'
Draco hadn't done it out of some noble self-sacrifice. He'd just made the rational choice in the moment.
What he didn't expect, though, was that not only did he avoid any damage from overextending his magic—his previously stagnant magical power had actually grown stronger.
While pleased, the unexpected result left him confused.
He was glad his strength had increased, but now he had to wonder—was there something unusual in his bloodline?
Hermione, who hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary and had no idea Draco was hiding something, sat down across from him, visibly relieved.
"Really? That's good to hear."
Draco glanced at her oddly.
Since when was this idiot so easy to fool?
He'd tossed out a half-hearted answer and she actually bought it?
"What's with that look?"
Maybe it was because Draco was staring too openly, but Hermione arched an eyebrow, suspicious, and picked up Fang from the floor as if to shield herself.
Draco simply shrugged. He wasn't about to tell the truth and make her feel worse.
Meanwhile, Hagrid, who had been listening to their conversation, scratched at his beard in confusion.
"What are you talking about? Did something else happen that night?"
"Hmph, you'll have to ask Mr. Malfoy sitting right in front of you. The one who always makes decisions for others without asking and insists on playing the hero."
"..."
Hermione's mix of grumbling and concern made Draco sigh with a smirk.
Yup, no doubt about it—she was a total tsundere...
...
Because of the unicorn situation, Hagrid hadn't gotten any real rest in days.
So not long after Hermione arrived, he hurriedly filled his stomach and had to rush off again.
He had important work to do that night, and he needed to be fully prepared...
"Fang's in your care. Don't forget to shut the door when you leave."
And just like that, Hagrid was gone, leaving the hut to Draco and Hermione.
After he left, Hermione's expression shifted. It was that hesitant look that clearly said she had something to say—but wasn't sure how to start...
Draco glanced at her, then casually shifted his posture.
"Looks like there's something you want to tell me?"
"Um... I need to apologize."
"Oh?"
Draco tilted his chin slightly, as if he already understood, while watching Hermione offer a serious, sincere apology.
Her heart wavered. That subtle smirk tugging at Draco's lips made her feel even guiltier, to the point where she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.
And Draco, not one for polite pretense, went right for the awkward truth.
"Well, knowing you, I figured you'd put the pieces together eventually."
The way he said it—like he was talking to a complete fool—made Hermione puff out her cheeks in frustration.
"But I'm not accepting it."
"Knew it."
The reply, while expected, still made Hermione deflate. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then let out a resigned sigh.
Still, she wasn't going to force Draco to forgive her. After all, he had been the one hurt.
"I really don't get what's going on in boys' heads!"
Clearly fed up, Hermione gave her hair a rough, unladylike shake. She looked like she was done trying to sort out any of it—and if Draco wanted to get revenge, she wouldn't stop him.
"I'd like to know that myself. Gryffindor's practically overflowing with justice-driven hot-headed idiots."
"And one of those Gryffindors is sitting right in front of you!"
Hermione gave Draco a sharp look, her expression full of suspicion. Was he calling her an idiot?
Watching the two bicker, Fang scratched at the door with oddly human-like desperation—as if trying to escape the scene...
...
That "hot-blooded idiot" Draco mentioned had, earlier that afternoon, been summoned by Professor McGonagall to serve detention in the Forbidden Forest. Goyle and Crabbe were included in the punishment.
What amused Draco was that the same two boys who had dared throw punches even when surrounded by a crowd of little lions were now trembling like leaves the moment they heard the words "Forbidden Forest."
"Serves you right. Maybe next time you'll think before causing trouble. That forest is no joke."
Pansy's tone was smug, bordering on gleeful. But her eyes never left Draco as she spoke, and that subtle cue made Goyle and Crabbe realize—if anyone could help them now, it was Draco.
"Cut it out, will you?"
Draco grimaced at the pitiful faces they were making, and even Pansy, disgusted, ducked behind him as if she couldn't stand the sight.
He rubbed his temples.
"Relax. I spoke to Hagrid about you two. As long as you don't pick a fight with the Chosen One and his gang, Hagrid won't give you any trouble. Honestly, he's not the type to hold a grudge."
As much as Draco wanted to punch the two of them for acting like cowards, he still offered a few reassuring words.
What he didn't notice, though, was Pansy tilting her head behind him, frowning in confusion.
Since when was Draco so close with that half-blood giant...?