Despite Cornelius Fudge's kindly smile, his very presence carried an undeniable weight, especially with a group of stern-faced Aurors standing at his back.
Among the gathered students, only Draco, Astoria, and a cat remained calm under the pressure.
Part of that composure came from their upbringing as pure-blood nobles—taught from an early age to maintain grace in any circumstance. But it also stemmed from the fact that, in recent years, Cornelius Fudge had grown increasingly close to and reliant upon pure-blood families. In truth, they often crossed paths, even though Lucius Malfoy had once been a Death Eater loyal to the Dark Lord.
Perhaps that was simply how politics worked.
Through these repeated encounters, Draco and Astoria had become more familiar with the small, slightly awkward Minister of Magic than most would imagine. After all, he was a frequent—and overly eager—guest at noble banquets.
Still, neither of them had expected to run into him here of all places.
As Cornelius Fudge approached, he tugged at his bright red tie, then removed his dark green bowler hat, revealing a smile that seemed like a practiced imitation of someone else's warmth.
Draco, watching him, once again found himself silently criticizing the man's questionable sense of style.
"Miss Greengrass, you're looking quite well today. A bit of fresh air does wonders, doesn't it?"
"I imagine my father will be pleased to hear you say that, Minister."
That odd remark made Draco pause. It sounded as if Fudge were implying that Astoria was unwell.
Concern flickered across his face as he glanced at her. Her pale, luminous complexion reminded him of the head of the Greengrass family—a man whose frail appearance hid tremendous magical power.
While Draco was still lost in thought, the Minister shifted his attention toward Harry Potter—and, to a lesser extent, Draco himself.
"To think, you and Draco are friends, Harry. Quite unexpected. But you must remember—what happened that night shouldn't be spoken of lightly. Of course, that's not to say I don't trust your friends."
"Well..."
"Don't be nervous, Harry. I'm not blaming you for anything. Just a reminder, yes, a reminder—best not to let too many people know about it, at least not until we can be certain you're truly safe."
"No, you've misunderstood. I haven't said anything. And... we're not friends. We just happened to run into each other."
"Oh? Is that so? Ahaha."
Watching the supposedly genial Minister address Harry with that overly paternal tone, Draco narrowed his eyes slightly. That wording... was it deliberate or accidental?
Unlike the curious Hermione or the visibly intrigued Ron Weasley, Draco caught a faint stiffness in the Minister's smile—barely noticeable, but there nonetheless. His keen instincts picked up on it immediately.
And that gaze... Fudge's eyes kept flicking between him and Harry, filled with something halfway between suspicion and unease.
Was he worried about a Malfoy associating with Harry Potter?
But why?
"Well then, Harry," Fudge continued pleasantly, "there are a few things I'd like to discuss with you—about that night."
"Oh, sure, that's fine..."
"Excellent. Let's go, then. I think you'll enjoy the honey tea there."
His intent to take Harry away was clear. Naturally, Ron and the others didn't protest or try to follow, and Draco—conveniently overlooked—had no reason to intervene.
And so, surrounded once more by his Aurors, the Minister led Harry off in another direction.
Within moments, the once-stilled street returned to its usual lively chatter.
Watching them disappear into the crowd, Draco recalled something his father had once said about the Minister of Magic.
A power-hungry, weak-willed wizard...
...
Compared to the Minister of Magic who frequently appeared in the newspapers, Hermione was far more concerned about why Harry had been taken away—especially after hearing the phrase, "once it's confirmed you're truly safe." Didn't that mean Harry wasn't safe right now?
If the atmosphere hadn't been so calm—and if the person involved weren't the Minister himself—Hermione might have suspected Harry of having done something wrong. After all, the aura those Aurors gave off was anything but friendly. Lost in thought, she didn't notice what was happening around her.
"So, Hermione, are you coming with us?"
"Huh?"
Draco's voice snapped her out of her daze. When she looked up, she realized that only Draco and the blonde witch—whom she'd just learned was named Greengrass—were standing beside her.
Apparently, she had followed them without even realizing it.
As for Ron Weasley, he was already halfway down the street, clutching Scabbers and eager to put as much distance as possible between his rat and Crookshanks. There was no way he'd still be walking with them.
Once Hermione took stock of the situation and heard Draco's invitation, her pride kicked in, making her tense up.
"Together? As if I'd—"
But the moment her wandering eyes met the gentle, smiling gaze of the blonde witch beside Draco, her words caught in her throat. That hesitation—wanting to refuse but unable to say it—made her look oddly conflicted.
"Hm? Did someone cast a Jinx on you? Why do you look so strange?"
"..."
Hermione tilted her head back to glare at Draco, who clearly wasn't showing any genuine concern, and instinctively rolled her eyes. Did she look like she was under a Jinx?
For that brief moment, she completely forgot about Lucius Malfoy's disdainful gaze and her earlier frustrations.
But when she realized what she was doing, Hermione huffed, stomped her foot in annoyance, and cast one last reluctant glance at Crookshanks before turning to leave.
Her odd reaction finally caught Draco's attention. He raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Could it be... she's avoiding me?"
Astoria, who had been quietly watching, tilted her head in curiosity. She looked at Draco, who was absently touching his chin, then back at Hermione's retreating figure disappearing down the street.
It seemed she had just discovered something rather interesting...
...
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