Chapter 119: The Cunning and Bright Star
Draco Malfoy had a beautiful dream.
In the dream, there was no bottomless black lake, no suffocating water tank, and no distorted face and scarlet eyes of the Dark Lord.
He dreamed of Hermione Granger.
A completely wonderful Hermione Granger.
No Bellatrix, no bleeding "Mudblood" carved into her arm, no endless tears and screams.
It was a rare sweet dream—Hermione Granger didn't utter a single scream of terror from beginning to end.
She maintained a calm, soft, trusting demeanor, smiled, opened her arms to hug him, kissed him with her soft red lips, and then rubbed his ink all over.
He woke from this bizarre dream with a smile and was surprised to find himself lying on the warm wool carpet in the Room of Requirement.
The wood burning in the fireplace crackled softly, and the tiny black dots on the Marauder's Map gleamed cheerfully on the vellum.
He was still holding her hand. The map lay between them, slightly wrinkled by the weight of their intertwined fingers.
They lay on their sides, facing each other across the map.
Last night, they collapsed on the carpet exhausted, wondering why Barty Crouch had been sneaking around Professor Snape's office, and then discussed whether ferrets were cute.
"Of course stoats are cute!" Hermione said seriously. "Did you know that stoats are related to otters? They're from the same family, the mustelid family, and their habits are similar."
"But what does this have to do with being cute?" he asked in surprise.
"Oh, because otters are cute, aren't they?" she said cheerfully. "They're so alike, they should be considered equally cute."
"Okay, I admit that otters are cute and look quite clever. But ferrets look a bit silly. You don't have to force yourself to comfort me." Draco said dejectedly, and couldn't help but think of her verbal attacks on him in his previous life - at that time, she always teased him for being a "big jumping ferret".
A trace of worry remained in Hermione's heart. A proud young man being forcibly transformed into an animal and tortured would be a fatal blow to his self-esteem.
Putting herself in his shoes, she couldn't accept such humiliation, so how could he accept it calmly?
She stole a glance at the boy, who was bowing his head, determined to ease his dejection. Perhaps besides praising the ferret's cuteness, she should also tell him that ferrets were actually very powerful.
Taking a deep breath, she ignored the boy's protest and adopted a positive tone, attempting to continue his ideological indoctrination. "Don't underestimate the ferret. It's not stupid at all. Despite its petite size, its vision and hearing are very strong. It's agile and energetic. It's not picky about food at all. It can find food on land, sea, and air..."
"I've never known about this." Draco suddenly felt a little happy. "How did you know this?"
"I've always known that," Hermione said proudly. "I read a lot of popular science books like this when I was a kid. Do you know how smart stoats are? They even change the color of their fur with the seasons. In winter, they're snow-white to adapt to the snowy environment; in summer, their fur turns brown as the temperature rises—"
"Oh, it's a bit like the color of wood or soil, isn't it?" Draco murmured, and the corners of his mouth finally curled up a little.
Tan. It was the color of Hermione's eyes, and her hair. And her wand. And part of his wand. The color of oak trees. The color of earth. The color of nature.
It is a color that can be described as "beautiful".
"Yes, that's right. It has a very strong sense of territory and is very good at camouflage." Hermione glanced at the corner of his mouth and said with a smile, "It's the 'actor' of the animal world. When it finds its prey, it doesn't attack immediately. Instead, it does the opposite. It first performs a somersault on its prey, then rolls on the ground repeatedly, and finally lies on the ground pretending to be dead. It uses this method to get close to its prey."
"Oh—that sounds a bit dodgy," he murmured.
"Yes. After determining that its prey is off guard, it will leap and attack, ultimately achieving victory." She recalled this obscure knowledge with relish. "An adult stoat can prey on 2,000 to 3,000 mice a year. All in all, I think it's an animal that is beneficial to nature."
"That's good to know," Draco said, blushing slightly.
He had never imagined that Hermione viewed ferrets in this way.
All those grudges from past and present lives seemed less important at this moment.
Was it possible that Hermione Granger had never disliked ferrets? He glanced at her nervously and found her smiling encouragingly at him.
So he raised the corners of his mouth more clearly, drawing some kind of relief from her smile. "Thank you, Hermione. Very meaningful scientific knowledge."
Later, they looked up at the star-speckled ceiling of the Room of Requirement and chatted aimlessly.
"What's going on today? It's so late, and you're still out for a night out? Don't you hate breaking school rules the most?" Draco was a little curious.
"Yes—I don't know why," she murmured, "but before I went to bed to-day I felt a little uneasy."
"Hermione Granger's special sixth sense?" he teased her. "Professor Trelawney might give you an extra 'O' since you finally achieved 'Sight'."
"Oh, shut up, Draco. This is not a joke." Hermione said a little unbearably, feeling helpless about his sudden "dry humor".
He said nothing more, but laughed to himself with great joy.
Her face flushed, and she defended herself, "I just wanted to go to the kitchen to check—"
"Oh, are you hungry?" he asked, wondering if he should get her something to eat.
"Not hungry. Just checking out," Hermione said, sinking into a depression.
She thought again of her unpopular SPEW member recruitment campaign, and her mentality became a little unbalanced.
"So - are you lost tonight?" Draco smiled secretly again.
The paths leading to the kitchen and Professor Snape's office are completely opposite.
"Ah... a little..." she stammered.
He couldn't hold it in and let out another chuckle.
"Don't laugh at me." She turned to look at the ceiling, her voice a little embarrassed and annoyed.
"I'm not making fun of you. I'll have to keep a closer eye on you next time, lest you get yourself lost, right?" he said cheerfully.
Hermione didn't know how to respond.
He should look at her more, what does that mean? She wondered hesitantly.
"Draco—" After a moment, she whispered his name.
"What's wrong?"
"Were you scared then—when you turned into a ferret?" she asked nervously.
"A little." After a pause, he said, "Later, you saved me, and I wasn't afraid anymore."
"You are trying to be brave. I felt that you were shaking the whole time. You were scared before you changed back, right?" She was very stubborn and kept confirming this matter, with a distressed tone in her voice.
"Oh, well—" Draco was stuck.
He was trembling for other reasons, at least most of them had nothing to do with fear.
"Why are you asking this?" he asked her back.
"I'm worried about you. I've been—worried about you." Her voice was shaking.
"Really?" His heart was moving slightly.
"Yes. I always feel that Professor Moody is targeting you. But I can't do anything. I feel useless." Her voice was full of worry.
"No, you shouldn't think like that. When I thought no one could save me, you came, didn't you?" He whispered to comfort her.
"Yeah… I also attacked a professor at Hogwarts." Her voice was muffled.
"You're very brave. A brave Gryffindor, aren't you? Last time, you stood up to him because of me. And you even pulled me out of the tank in one go. Very brave." He tried to evoke more of her memories, to let her know how brave she was. "I don't know where you got such courage from."
"Yeah. I can't help it. I can't bear to see you suffer... I feel so bad." Her voice was a little choked.
Is she crying again? Draco turned his head and glanced at her worriedly, only to find that she had stopped looking at the ceiling.
She was looking at him, her brown eyes were watery and bright.
"Can I—hold your hand?" she whispered. "I'm feeling a little sad. I want to hold your hand."
"Why not?" He felt warm in his heart and obediently stretched out his hand gently towards her and touched her hand.
Her soft hands could perform countless exquisite magics, concoct the most complex potions, and even disarm the powerful former Auror, Alastor Moody.
This hand once firmly grasped his collar and rescued him from the tank of despair.
A few minutes ago, this hand was gently holding the back of his neck, surprisingly not hurting him at all.
This hand softened his hard heart into a fluffy cloud. He wrapped his own hand around hers, which was a bit cold, and whispered to her, "Now—are you feeling better?"
"Much better," she whispered. "Very warm."
While they were talking, the Room of Requirement automatically dimmed the surrounding candlelight, as if to allow them to better observe the stars on the ceiling.
So they looked up, gazing at those dim or shining points of light.
"Draco..." After a moment, her mood seemed to improve, and her tone became a little lively.
"What's wrong?"
"The Room of Requirement is truly magical, like it has its own thoughts. I have no idea how it controls the light – those stars are so lifelike," Hermione murmured, seemingly mesmerized by the scenery above. "Magic is truly marvelous. Whenever I witness some amazing magic, I'm always glad I'm a witch."
"I'm glad you are, too," he whispered.
"I'm also glad to meet you." There was happiness in her voice.
"I'm glad too," he said softly.
Hermione smiled softly in the darkness, observed the stars intently for a while, and began to murmur again, "Draco (Draco, also refers to the constellation Dragon) -"
"What's wrong?" He responded to her patiently.
"I found Draco—" She raised her arm and pointed vaguely at a spot on the ceiling. "See it? Vega (Lyra), and next to it is Draco."
"I see. I see Vega." Draco turned his head to look at her - in the darkness, the girl smiled dimly.
He thought again of her bright eyes looking at him just now.
"Bright Vega, and the somewhat dim Draco next to her, right?" he asked her, a hint of melancholy in his tone.
"Draco is also very bright, but it's not easy to find. It likes to hide itself. You have to be very careful to find it..." Hermione said seriously, with a smile in her voice, "A cunning and bright star... but I like it very much... Finding a star that is hard to find, the sense of accomplishment is incomparable..."
"Do you like it very much?" He felt an inexplicable expectation in his heart and almost whispered.
"Yes, I like it very much..." She murmured, staring at the direction of the star in a daze. "Every time I look at the stars, I will first look for it to see where it is... I think I like it very much, very... very much... I may be a little obsessed with finding stars..."
She turned around lazily and wanted to smile at him, but found that his eyes were always on her and he didn't look at the stars on the ceiling at all.
Something felt off about the atmosphere, perhaps because of the still, stagnant air, or the shallow, audible breathing, or even the rapid, uneasy heartbeat.
There were also warm hands. I didn't know when they had changed from a light grip to a cross-fingered state.
She pursed her lips, wanting to say something, but was strangely silent.
Her mind trembled, and she tried to pull her fingers back, but his gaze froze her in place.
She couldn't think about the stars above her head anymore, because one of the stars was looking at her with soft eyes and a quiet smile on its lips.
Under the illusory night sky with shining stars, their fingers were intertwined and their eyes were intertwined.
They could feel each other's heartbeats between their fingers. The beats were faint yet intense, like an invisible, full-body binding spell. Neither of them dared to move, neither dared to speak first.
In this quiet midnight, the heartbeat between fingers seems to be the only reality.
Hermione looked into those calm, deep grey eyes, feeling somewhat bewildered and dazed.
Draco, this boy who could easily break a girl's heart, why did he always look at her in such a misleading way, as if she was the only one in his eyes? As if he liked her.
Don't be so conceited, Hermione Granger, she desperately emphasized this bleak fact to herself.
At one point, she hated herself for being so stubborn. She couldn't refuse his hand, couldn't let him go from her heart, couldn't take his joys and sorrows lightly.
What on earth are they doing?
She gazed at him sadly until the distant stroke of midnight woke her.
A wave of bitterness washed over her eyes and nose. Then, with a wave of sadness, she finally remembered that they were friends—just friends.
Hermione was like a balloon pierced by the bell. She said deflatedly, "I think we should go back."
"That's right," Draco said, his eyes glued to her pupils, even as his hand grasped hers stubbornly. "Or, could you wait a moment?"
She was wrapped in his eyes and hands, struggling in her heart, not knowing whether to extinguish herself or light herself up.
Finally, she whispered, "Oh, five more minutes is fine."
"Well, wait five more minutes then," he said with satisfaction.
So they delayed in a vague gaze for another five minutes - perhaps more than five minutes - and no one carefully checked the position of the clock hands on the wall.
The young man's long gaze surrounded her, as if he was using his warm eyes to soften the sharp thorns in her soul; then the heavy pain was temporarily relieved and replaced by a kind of light happiness.
Gradually, the feeling of safety and comfort climbed into Hermione's brain along the soft wool carpet, making it difficult for her to think about "how long these five minutes, which should have been short but unexpectedly lasted so long, will last."
Then sleepiness gradually came over her, and her eyelids, which had been forced to stay open, gradually relaxed. She closed her eyes under the starlight and fell into a deep sleep.
She didn't know that her hand was held tightly and never released.
Until dawn breaks and the morning dew is faint.
A bright yellow fire danced in the fireplace, and the occasional crackling of wood woke the sleeping boy.
Draco opened his eyes and stared at the girl in front of him, gradually waking up.
His throat tightened.
He tried to withdraw their clasped hands—unsuccessful—and in return she let out a complaining grunt.
The voice was faint and sweet, as if she was being coquettish. The sleeping girl had lost her usual stubborn demeanor of "not needing anyone's care." Instead, she was as clingy and delicate as a newborn kitten needing to be petted.
Her thumb was still unconsciously sliding along the side of his hand, and the slightly itchy touch slid along the skin into the blood vessels, rushing all the way to his heart.
Merlin, the thoughts that were forced to stop yesterday, the chaotic joy in his dreams at night, just happened to sneak back into his mind at this moment.
He wanted to kiss her even more—his body tensed with the desire.
From last night to this morning, his desire to kiss her became stronger and stronger.
This kind of crazy desire was effortless for Draco at the moment - he only needed to reach out and pull, and he could pull the soft and delicate girl in front of him and kiss her as he wished.
This is not right, Draco Malfoy, you shameful man, he thought to himself, she is too young, you can't do this to her.
But while thinking, he stole a glance at her face, neck, and the faint curves under the loose burqa.
His face gradually became hot, and he couldn't help thinking about the pajamas he felt when he turned into a ferret.
Merlin! Those pajamas—too thin and transparent. Any soft touch would be exposed to him and tempt him.
After his experience as a ferret, he could no longer ignore certain aspects of her development.
Certain thoughts were swirling in his mind—kissing her.
Then, hug her. Get close to her. Even more. More. More.
He could no longer use excuses like "she is still young" or "she is like a sister" to deal with his physical and mental throbbing.
The fact is, she has grown up.
Growing up day by day.
She grew into a budding 15-year-old girl, and became the person he most desired and dared not desire - the person who was completely defenseless against him - which often drove him crazy.
He would listen with relish to anything she had to say to him—even the unpopular topics of house-elves' rights.
He liked to capture her instant reaction when she saw him in the crowd - her eyes would suddenly light up.
He was addicted to the full satisfaction he felt when she threw herself into his arms without hesitation - and it took all his willpower every time he let go of her.
He even liked her to cry in his arms. Although he didn't like her crying, he liked her to show him her vulnerability - only to him - and he was happy to bandage up that vulnerability.
But did she still like him? Was it just a friendship or a romantic admiration? Was the door of her heart still open to him, or had it already closed? Draco became increasingly unsure of this matter as he grew frantic.
"Oh, please, we are just study partners, just friends. There is no other relationship." He heard her say this to other students in a righteous tone more than once.
Every time he heard this, Draco felt a little flustered, but he would turn around and smile at her, trying his best to appear casual and natural.
Ever since the punch last school year, Hermione always refused to sit down and talk to him about it. As long as the topic was even mentioned, a kind of panic expression would appear on her face, and she would hurriedly label him with one "friend" after another, and imprison him firmly in this label.
Indeed, she could openly discuss any academic issues with him, explore the terrible deeds of the Dark Lord with him, and worry with him about how Harry should face the dragon, but when it came to the topic of "feelings", she resolutely chose to stop.
Talking about feelings had become a taboo for Hermione Granger. Draco couldn't discuss it, couldn't touch it, couldn't move forward. He could only take a step back, afraid of scaring her off. He was afraid she would get angry again, afraid she would ignore him. He was afraid she would once again look at him with that defensive, unfamiliar look.
He could only observe, approach, and test his instincts. He attempted to scale the spiritual precipice, cautiously yearning to pluck her elusive heart. He might fall, or he might find redemption. These possibilities burned his soul like wildfire, rising and falling over and over again.
Was her concern, care, and protection for him these days simply out of friendship, or did it have a deeper meaning? He wondered anxiously, carefully observing her peaceful sleeping face.
She'd said she loved Draco yesterday – though that might have been about the stars.
But for a moment, she seemed to be looking at him through the stars.
Regardless, he was sure he liked her—and wanted to kiss her.
His emotions were perhaps more honest than his body, and he understood his desires earlier. He had already vaguely discovered that with the arrival of physical puberty, his emotions would often get out of control due to the secretion of hormones.
It wasn't that there was anything wrong with his Occlumency, but rather that he couldn't control his emotions when he met Hermione Granger.
He always wished she would be next to him in the library instead of anyone else.
He always hoped she would only accept Butterbeer from him and no one else.
He always hoped that she would only look at him and not at others.
This emotional outburst was even worse that morning. He couldn't control his hormones, couldn't control his eyes that kept wanting to look at her, and even more couldn't control his urge to kiss her.
Not a forehead kiss – although that was pleasurable too.
Not kisses to the eyes, nose, cheeks, and ears—though he supposed those would be pleasurable, too.
It was her lips he wanted—rosy, soft, intelligent lips that could recite Hogwarts: A History by heart.
He longed to taste it. Perhaps it would be sweet; perhaps even sweeter.
As if bewitched, the boy moved his face close to hers and traced the shape of her lips with his eyes.
And she, this bright star, was still innocently immersed in a beautiful dream on some night, unaware of the sinful and cunning evil thoughts approaching her, and she was slightly opening her lips, releasing a light and alluring breath.
Thunder was brewing in his heart, rumbling. He was torn between indulgence, kissing her recklessly until she woke up, and rationality, not betraying her trust and leaving immediately.
After an arduous inner struggle, he finally gently pried open her fingers one by one, freeing the hand that wanted to pull her into his arms.
Driven by his remaining sanity, he suddenly stood up and fled without grace.
Okay - Draco admitted - he was a complete coward.
Perhaps cowardice was a disease that had penetrated his bones. In addition, he also had the sequelae of amnesia.
He didn't know how he left the Room of Requirement or which way he took to return to his dormitory; he also didn't know where he had left such a precious thing as the Marauder's Map, just as he didn't know where the invisibility cloak had been blown away last night; he even started losing more things - the parchment containing his research on the improved formula for dragon pox disappeared, and he searched for it for an entire Potions class but couldn't find any trace of it.
How did he get through the rest of the day? To Draco, this was almost a foggy blank.
Only some fragmentary memories of her remain in my heart.
"Harry told me that he told Cedric about the dragon because he saw Madam Maxime and Karkaroff near the dragon on the night of Hogsmeade's open day. He thought it would be fairer if everyone knew about it." She spoke to him, her lips moving, very close.
"Oh, yes, selfless." He was pruning the fluttering bush absent-mindedly, his heart trembling like the bush at her fragrance.
"Oh my God, Professor Snape has wronged Harry again, insisting that he stole the skin of the African bush snake and the horn of the bicorn... Harry was so angry that he started arguing with Professor Snape and even asked Professor Snape on the spot whether he knew his mother! Professor Snape's face turned green, and he finally punished Harry with three days of detention." The lips appeared in front of him again, chattering about the Slytherin Snake King.
"Ah, yes, that's too much." His heart was burning with anger, and he was dizzy as he searched for his parchment with the dragon pox formula written on it in the Potions classroom.
After what seemed like an eternity, she hugged him excitedly, her lips brushing his ear carelessly, "Draco! Harry got the golden egg!"
"Well, very good. Golden eggs--" Draco shuddered and woke up briefly.
Only then did he react amidst a burst of heated noise.
He found himself sitting in the stands of the first event of the Triwizard Tournament. On the big stone in the center of the field, Harry's body was charred black - the Firebolt he was riding was smoking - and he was holding a golden egg tightly in his hand, waving at the audience with a laugh.
All the spectators were cheering and applauding Harry for defeating the Hungarian Horntail Dragon. No one booed him anymore.
"I think Harry has won everyone's respect with his strength!" Hermione beside him hugged him tightly, then quickly let him go and smiled brightly at him, "He won't be excluded by everyone anymore, right?"
Her smiling lips were a pale pink in the sunlight, her brown eyes sparkled, and her face had an expression of pure joy.
"Yeah." He said dizzily, pinching his hands hard, trying to regain his composure.
Merlin, she was so close to him just now. Why not just kiss her and give it a try? He stared at her profile, thinking obsessively.
Besides, how did time pass so quickly? Draco stood there, completely oblivious to it.
He was lost in thought as he followed the students down the stands, his steps floating and unsteady on the way back to the castle.
"Draco! Look, what is this?" Hermione chased after him in panic.
She seemed frightened. Finally, Draco came to his senses.
"What's wrong?" He asked seriously, pursing his lips, his fingers clenched tightly in his robes.
"Here, here are two Barty Crouchs!" She thrust the Marauder's Map, which he had thought lost, under his nose. "Look!"
Barty Crouch and Barty Crouch stood there side by side, as if they were under a duplication spell. Draco finally couldn't get lost in the lips or any of the beautiful things about kissing, and his face showed the same panic expression as Hermione.
"Impossible." He said firmly.
The last time this map had surprised him so much was when the name Peter Pettigrew appeared on it.
There must be something strange about this.
"Come with me. Let's go see what's going on." Hermione said, going against the flow of people and hurriedly heading in the direction indicated by the map.
Draco followed her to where the two Barty Crouchs had appeared - that was where the referees and professors were sitting in the stands.
By now, the other stands had already emptied out; even Rita Skeeter and her photographer friend had left. Only a few Hogwarts professors remained, and the judges in the stands were still chatting among themselves.
Hermione held up the map and squinted as she checked names in the direction of the stands.
"I finally noticed something was wrong with him. It's Professor Moody—" She suddenly closed the map, folded it, and stuffed it into his pocket. She said to Draco calmly, "He's not on the stands in the map. I now believe that you haven't used the Marauder's Map much recently—if you pay a little attention, you'll find that the real Professor Moody has been staying in his office, motionless. The one on the stands now is the second Barty Crouch—Barty Crouch Jr."
"But he's been dead—in Azkaban—for years." Draco found his voice breaking.
He had never considered the possibility – who else but the Dark Lord could be resurrected?
"What if he's not dead? What did Winky say? Is she hiding something—perhaps the fact that her young master is still alive? What if he's pretending to be Professor Moody? I smelled a strange odor on him last time at the Three Broomsticks, and now that I think about it, it's all clear—it's the smell of Polyjuice Potion." She stared at the stands and spoke in a fierce tone that Draco rarely heard. "And now—I've caught him."
"Hermione, what do you want to do?" Draco asked anxiously, and he found Hermione running up the stairs leading to the stands.
"Teach him a lesson - there are other spells besides the Unforgivable Curses." Hermione paused briefly, without looking back, and said this coldly, then continued to climb the stairs.
"Wait—" Draco whispered, following after her.
Shouldn't they take a long-term view?
Isn't it too rash to just run out and expose this matter in front of everyone?
Draco wanted to stop her, but he was no match for Hermione. He had just poked his head out from the stairs when she, with all her Gryffindor lion power, suddenly petrified Professor Moody in front of everyone.
Her petrification spell was always good, Draco thought proudly.
The matter was done, and there was nothing he could do to change it. He simply slowed down his pace and walked up the stairs slowly.
"Miss Granger, what are you doing?" Professor McGonagall asked in surprise.
"Please don't try to remove the curse, Professor McGonagall! This petrified Professor Moody is an imposter!" Hermione said loudly, and she pulled the curved bottle off Moody's body and opened it neatly, then put it under Professor Snape's hooked nose and asked him to smell it.
"It tastes like Polyjuice Potion, right, Professor Snape? Now you can finally know who stole your boomslang skin and bicorn horn!" She said to Professor Snape with her head held high.
Professor Snape's pale, yellow face immediately turned livid. For once, he had to admit that "Hermione Granger was right."
His face turned blue not because of Hermione's provocative tone or offensive behavior, but because he actually smelled the scent of Polyjuice Potion.
"Severus?" Dumbledore asked calmly, his forehead wrinkled.
"It's Polyjuice Potion." Professor Snape waved his wand and tied up the petrified fake Professor Moody tightly.
Draco was surprised to find that Dumbledore's expression instantly became more terrifying than Professor Snape's - every wrinkle on his face was filled with cold anger.
This was a rare sight—Dumbledore usually wore a smile that made it hard to tell what he was thinking. This made his blatant anger seem so real.
"Severus, Minerva, take the petrified fake Professor Moody to the Headmaster's office." He said calmly, his expression gradually softening.
Then, nodding at Hermione and Draco, he said briefly, "Well, come along, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy. Apparently, you were the ones who discovered this, weren't you? I have something to ask you."
The other referees and the foreign headmasters were still in shock. Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked curious and wanted to follow him to the headmaster's office, but Dumbledore politely asked them to leave.
"After all, this is an internal matter of Hogwarts," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile that was invisible in his eyes.
Barty Crouch Sr. had no intention of following at all - he went back to the Ministry of Magic with a puzzled Ludo Bagman indifferently - he didn't know that it was his unfilial son who was petrified.
"I think I understand what you're doing," Draco whispered to Hermione as they followed the judges down the stairs. "It wasn't impulsive, was it?"
Hermione withdrew her gaze from observing the judges and smiled proudly at him.
This girl hadn't acted on impulse in front of everyone. Draco looked at her smile with a complicated expression.
She quickly planned everything out as she took the few steps towards the stands.
She posed as a harmless student, choosing a precise angle to attack that would leave the fake Professor Moody's magical eyes defenseless.
She fearlessly attacked a genuine Hogwarts professor under the noses of numerous judges, each of whom was a person of considerable status, and easily defeated the powerful imposter, an adult Death Eater.
Most importantly, nothing she said revealed the true identity of the fake Professor Moody.
Then, like a shrewd cat, she watched Barty Crouch Sr.'s reaction closely to see if he had anything to do with it; she even observed Igor Karkaroff's expression to see if the former Death Eater knew anything about it.
She's so clever, Draco thought in amazement.
Although he already knew that she was smart, he was still often surprised by this.
She was so smart that it was terrifying, so smart that his heart was moved, and so smart that he could not stop praising her.
She filled the blind spot in his thinking and picked up the missing piece of the puzzle.
She was not just any delicate flower, but a rose with thorns, and possessed the most impressive brain in all of Hogwarts...
Hermione Granger. Everything about her—her beauty, her intelligence, her wit, her edge—was perfectly suited to Draco Malfoy's taste.