novelraw Chapter 118: The Trembling Ferret
Chapter 118: The Trembling Ferret
Let's go back to the night the Hogsmeade weekend ended.
Lying on his four-poster bed in his private bedroom at the bottom of the Black Lake, Draco Malfoy, as always, tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
Although the proud Draco told everyone he was in good form—this insomnia had been plaguing him ever since he'd nearly drowned in the water tank during Defence Against the Dark Arts.
He'd lied. The lake outside his dormitory window drove him mad at all times.
He couldn't stare at the water for too long, or he'd have some sort of hallucination—the black lake water would suddenly burst through the windows, rush into the bedroom, extinguish the warm fireplace, wash over the silvery-green walls, and he and the furniture would be torn apart and swept away by this mad hallucination, eventually drowning him.
He'd begun to understand something. Facing the same thing, different mindsets led to different states of mind. Many of the underwater images Draco had previously admired now felt like thorns in his back.
The tiny, silvery fish swimming outside the window—no longer a species that effectively calmed the turmoil in people's hearts—symbolized endless water.
The occasional passing of Grindylows—no longer pets tethered by merpeople—reminded him of the terrifying tank that had once contained Grindylows.
He'd even lost interest in interacting with the Giant Squid. Seeing the bubbles coming from its mouth reminded him of the bubbles he'd exhaled from his mouth and nose and the cold water rushing into his lungs when he was drowning—a feeling of suffocation washed over him.
Draco sighed, drew the thick curtains, shutting out the transparent windows and everything related to the Black Lake from his sight, attempting to create some illusion with the solitary swaying wall lamps—that he was in the warm bedroom of Malfoy Manor, not at the cold and gloomy bottom of the Black Lake.
But he still couldn't sleep. He was exhausted and disheveled. He yawned constantly, yet his mind was clear. His imagination couldn't convince him, perhaps because the sound of the lake rippling through the curtains was too loud.
Draco sighed, pulled the Marauder's Map from under his pillow, held it up, and began flipping through it aimlessly—one of his favorite activities when he had insomnia.
When he saw Hermione Granger's name appear on the map in the Gryffindor common room, he finally felt rather more at ease.
Merlin, if she were to follow Harry and the others into the Forbidden Forest again in the middle of the night and encounter a werewolf or a dragon... the thought sent chills down his spine. Fortunately, she didn't seem to have any such plans today.
Draco stared at his personal sedative—Hermione's name leaving Harry's and Ron's names and returning to the girls' dormitory—and gained his daily dose of peace of mind.
Then he casually flipped through the Marauder's Map in his hand and studied the seven different secret passages of Hogwarts with great interest—secretly wondering if there were any undiscovered secret passages—until he inadvertently discovered the most unlikely person in the most unlikely place.
Barty Crouch—he shouldn't be at Hogwarts at this time.
This serious, old-fashioned stubborn man, this prejudiced Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation who deeply despised Death Eaters.
It was almost curfew—what was he doing all alone outside Professor Snape's office?
A routine inspection? That was an Auror's job; it would never require the Department Head's presence.
This action was as sneaky and illogical as Professor Moody's.
Merlin's beard! Could anyone tell him what treasure Professor Snape had hidden in his damned office that made these people circle around him like vultures, relentlessly? Draco sighed in annoyance.
Should he get involved in this? Draco thought wearily.
Professor Snape had treated him well. Now that he'd seen it, he couldn't just ignore it. Draco hesitated for a moment, then carefully examined the Marauder's Map again.
Yes, Barty Crouch was still there.
He hurriedly put on robes over his pajamas, then pulled out an Invisibility Cloak from the bottom of his trunk—he hadn't used it in ages—and strode from the dormitory, determined to see what was happening.
Despite being under the Invisibility Cloak, Draco cautiously peeked from behind the ugly statue.
The corridor outside Professor Snape's office was quiet—Barty Crouch had already gone in.
As Draco rolled up the Marauder's Map and stuffed it into his robes, he stepped from behind the statue, intending to peek into the office to see what this seemingly respectable Department Head was up to.
Just as he was about to step forward, he suddenly froze—Mad-Eye Moody was standing in the doorway of Professor Snape's office—his enormous magical eye was staring intently at him.
In that instant, Draco realized a truth—that the magical eye could probably see through Invisibility Cloaks.
Yes, Moody could see him—his mangled face twisted into a horrifying grin as he glared at Draco: "Don't make any rash moves, Malfoy."
Draco stood frozen in place, not yet having drawn his wand.
The owner of the magical eye said softly, "I should have noticed sooner there was a disgusting rat following me. You just can't learn, can you? You have no manners at all. Let me teach you how to be a good student!"
Then a white light flashed, the Invisibility Cloak was knocked away, and Draco instantly turned into a ferret.
It was a complete replay of before.
Draco sensed something was wrong and tried running away, but he was controlled and lifted into the air before being slammed to the ground with a thud.
"I despise sneaky people. Trying to snitch to Snape again? Dirty, despicable, cowardly behavior... and you even had Minerva threaten me... I even had to promise Dumbledore I wouldn't bother you in lessons... The Malfoys certainly have connections, even managing to get Dumbledore involved... And now look at you? Wandering around during curfew, and you've fallen into my hands?" He said gruffly, staring intently at the ferret, a cruel smile suddenly appearing on his face. "I remember you seemed terrified of the Cruciatus Curse. Cowardly Malfoy brat—even hearing the name makes you tremble..."
No! Draco gritted his teeth as he endured the weightlessness of bouncing up and down in the air.
You have no idea what happened!
"You tell me... should I try it on you, you little brat?" Moody said smugly, as if Draco were a teaching tool he could mold at will, a spider he could crush at any time.
After being turned into a ferret, Draco was on the verge of despair. Now, controlled by Moody's wand, he'd given up on escaping and let Moody manipulate him, throwing him to the ground again and again.
The humiliating memories of the past were being replayed, and this time it would be even worse.
No one would come to save him. It was happening during curfew, not during the day as in his previous life; he certainly had far fewer spectators and less fodder for ridicule; however, Professor McGonagall could no longer possibly arrive to stop the abuse, nor could she suddenly appear in the dungeons in the middle of the night to cast a spell to break it.
Apart from the sound of the ferret being thrown around, the corridor was completely silent.
"Try the Cruciatus Curse," Moody said cruelly, clicking his tongue. "You should experience this sort of extra instruction."
The Cruciatus Curse. Was he finally about to experience the same Cruciatus Curse that had caused Hermione such agony?
He was suddenly thrown to the ground, the wand pointing mercilessly at him, ready to unleash that excruciating spell at any moment.
The ferret lay sprawled on the ground, its eyes tightly shut, knowing it couldn't defy its predetermined fate.
Come on, let this coward taste the agony of the Cruciatus Curse, Draco thought in despair.
"Expelliarmus!" Hermione's voice rang in his ears.
The voice was so sweet; it was a hallucinatory voice that had appeared countless times in his mind.
Impossible. It couldn't be her. She should be in her Gryffindor dormitory. He was probably just delusional again.
However, a soft hand decisively lifted him by the scruff of his neck. His back and body trembled, and he found being lifted like that didn't hurt. He opened his eyes in surprise and found himself being held in the girl's arms with one hand.
Professor Moody, sitting opposite him, was empty-handed—his wand had been knocked away to the wall some distance away—and he was stunned.
He seemed not to have realized why any student would dare cast a Disarming Charm on him.
Hermione glared angrily at Professor Moody, her face flushed. She held her wand pointed directly at him with her other hand. "How dare you! Using Transfiguration to punish or attack students is a violation of Hogwarts rules!"
"Disobeying curfew and attacking a professor with a wand," he said, ignoring Hermione's question and sneering, his blue magical eye swirling wildly in its socket. "This is not something a good student should do. You will be expelled."
The ferret clung tightly to Hermione. He could feel her trembling slightly, but she didn't lower her wand.
"Oh, so you think it's perfectly legitimate to show up at Professor Snape's office door in the middle of the night? And casting spells on students—is that the proper behavior of a Hogwarts professor? If you want to report this, I will report it to Professor McGonagall. As for whether or not to expel me, I don't think that's up to you," she said. Her voice trembled, but it was firm.
Professor Moody's magical eye darted around, seemingly assessing the firmness of Hermione's words. Ultimately, he stared at her with a sinister expression, making no rash move.
The girl, clutching him, cautiously backed away step by step toward the stairs. She kept pointing her wand tip at Professor Moody, who remained standing there. Only when they were almost at the corner did she run upstairs with him in her arms.
The ferret's body pressed tightly against hers. He could hear the rapid, powerful pounding of her heart.
She must be very nervous, Draco thought, his head spinning.
As he gradually shed the humiliation of being initially controlled and humiliated by Moody, he finally realized certain truths.
For example, she'd tucked him inside her outer robes. For example, she was only wearing a thin nightdress underneath. For example, the ferret's face was pressed directly against her chest through that thin nightdress.
It was very soft.
Draco knew this was the last thing he should be thinking about.
Just minutes earlier, he'd been subjected to horrific torture by Moody before her.
He should be filled with shame and indignation, be in unbearable pain, and be at a loss.
But now his mind was completely occupied by the word "soft."
The vibrations caused by running.
The movement was impossible to ignore.
The humiliation, pain, and fear he'd just felt had now strangely transformed into a sweet, beautiful, and stimulating sensation.
At that moment, the ferret named Draco Malfoy suddenly realized he was experiencing all of this with an extremely pleasant yet sinful feeling.
He couldn't control himself, clutching her nightdress, shamefully trembling with excitement.
Hermione Granger had planned to go to bed early.
After returning from Hogsmeade, she'd practiced Summoning Charms a few times with Harry and Ron in the common room—Harry successfully made books, quills, an old set of Gobstones, Neville's toad Trevor, and even several chairs fly toward him—this practice eventually left her feeling tired; moreover, the Butterbeer Draco had bought them at the Three Broomsticks left her feeling rather tipsy.
But as she lay on the four-poster bed, listening to the faint sound of the wind outside the window, she couldn't help thinking about the progress of her S.P.E.W. membership recruitment once again, and anxiety swept over her—it seemed she'd never be able to gather ten members and make Draco admit defeat to her.
Like Ron—a child of a wizarding family—Draco was indifferent to the rights of house-elves. But Draco was different from Ron. He was willing to pay Dobby wages and holidays—and for that reason alone, Hermione didn't think his stance was entirely unwavering.
He was still someone worth trying to win over, Hermione thought. Now, all that was needed was an opportunity to get this stubborn young man involved. Who knew—he might make a remarkable contribution to this endeavor!
As she pondered, her feelings became even more complicated. She felt extremely uneasy, as if something was weighing on her mind, refusing to leave.
A daring idea even crossed her mind—she wanted to sneak from the common room to check on the house-elves and see if they were entitled to go to bed on time—even though curfew was still a quarter of an hour away.
She thought back to first year, when she'd scolded Harry and his friends severely for going out at night. Now, however, she herself had become rather mischievous, trying to skirt the rules.
She wondered who'd gradually made her so bold. Could it be that boy who often wore an Invisibility Cloak and secretly wandered around Hogwarts at night but was never caught by Mr. Filch? Hermione chuckled inexplicably.
Without further ado, she quickly threw on robes over her nightdress and decided to sneak into the kitchens to observe and, while she was at it, check on Winky—to see if the poor little elf was in better spirits.
It wouldn't take much effort, she thought—there was plenty of time. She hurriedly rushed from the portrait of the Fat Lady curling her hair with rollers, ran down the stairs, and quickened her pace toward her destination.
However, a section of stairs that kept changing direction took Hermione rather longer, and by the time she reached the vicinity of the Great Hall, she was clearly disoriented. She hurriedly followed the stairs to the next floor, but instead of finding the familiar, spacious, and bright corridor, she was faced with a dark and cold alternative.
Only then did she realize she'd gone the wrong way.
This was probably the road leading to Slytherin's dungeons. Around the corner, it seemed to be Professor Snape's office.
Merlin above! Please, please, don't let Professor Snape suddenly appear and catch her red-handed just before curfew. Hermione wanted to retreat quickly, but suddenly heard a roar and was surprised to find it was Professor Moody's voice. She knew it was him because she'd heard his voice at the Three Broomsticks earlier that day.
"I should have noticed a disgusting rat following me. You just can't learn, can you? You have no manners at all. Let me teach you how to be a good student!" Professor Moody's voice was soft, but a hint of involuntary cruelty and schadenfreude was revealed in it.
Hermione was extremely curious. She couldn't help peeking around the corner and saw Professor Moody facing her sideways, his wand emitting white light toward the empty corridor.
She saw Draco instantly appear in the corridor—something invisible was knocked aside with a sound. The boy was then quickly transformed into a ferret.
The ferret tried running away but was controlled and lifted into the air, then crashed to the ground with a thud.
Hermione covered her mouth in shock and quickly turned to press herself against the wall at the corner, not daring to look closely.
What should she do? She hesitated, listening to Professor Moody's gruff reprimand of Draco echoing in the deserted corridor.
"I have the utmost contempt for sneaky people. Trying to snitch to Snape again? Dirty, despicable, cowardly behavior... and you even had Minerva threaten me... I even had to promise Dumbledore I wouldn't cause you trouble in lessons... The Malfoys certainly have connections everywhere, even able to get Dumbledore involved... And now look what's happened? Wandering around during curfew, and you've fallen into my hands?"
During the pauses in Moody's speech, she could hear the poor ferret being slammed to the ground, and she could hear its faint, tiny screams, which gradually ignited a fire of anger within her.
Transfiguring students was a serious violation of the rules, and even punishment shouldn't be done in this way!
"I remember you seemed terrified of the Cruciatus Curse. The cowardly Malfoy brat—you tremble at the mere mention of it... Tell me... should I try it on you, you little brat? Try the Cruciatus Curse," Moody said cruelly, clicking his tongue. "You should experience this sort of extra instruction."
Oh Merlin. Draco... Draco who claimed to be a coward but had stood before her countless times to save her without hesitation... Draco who admitted to being selfish but was always selfless toward her... Draco who'd been buried in a water tank and nearly drowned but still told her "it's all right" afterward.
Her heart ached violently, and a rare, violent emotion ignited within her.
The Cruciatus Curse! How dare Moody?
Finally, Hermione's rage consumed the last vestiges of reason in her mind. She emerged from around the corner and decisively uttered the spell she'd rehearsed a thousand times: "Expelliarmus!"
She'd succeeded. Professor Moody, sitting opposite her, was empty-handed—his wand had been knocked to the far wall—and he was stunned.
Driven by anger, Hermione scooped the ferret into her arms and wrapped it tightly in her robes to keep it from falling. This was no time for a mistake; she had to be absolutely flawless.
She confronted Professor Moody. She argued with Professor Moody. Her wand tip pointed at a Hogwarts professor, and surprisingly, she showed no remorse.
She didn't know how she'd done it. By the time she regained her senses, she'd already run all the way to the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"I think he didn't follow," she whispered to the trembling little ferret in her arms. The Fat Lady before her was fast asleep, emitting soft snores.
The ferret trembled in her arms. No, she couldn't bring Draco into the Gryffindor common room. He must be terrified and wouldn't want anyone to know he looked like this.
Hermione had an idea and took the ferret to the Room of Requirement, which was also on the eighth floor.
She imagined a warm, cozy room with a bed, sofa, armchair, a fireplace crackling with fire, soft woolen rugs, and countless cushions.
She still felt it was all a bizarre dream. It had just been a whimsical nighttime outing; how had she ended up like this, and how had he become like this?
Hermione nervously and gently took the trembling little ferret from her bosom—he seemed reluctant—and carefully placed it on the sofa, calling out shakily, "Draco?"
The ferret nodded and sat listlessly on the sofa. It looked both pitiful and adorable. She tried stroking its head, and it didn't resist, obediently accepting her touch.
She couldn't resist moving closer to it, wanting to examine it more closely. It moved very nimbly, even climbing up, from her hand to her arm and even her shoulder.
She was extremely surprised and turned to look at the ferret on her shoulder—it was tentatively rubbing its wet nose against her cheek.
"Merlin, you smell so good," he thought. He was suddenly captivated by her scent.
For a fleeting moment, Hermione forgot the ferret was actually a boy in disguise. Its docile appearance, easily lifted by the scruff, was a stark contrast to the aloof boy who was a head taller than her.
Moreover, it was busy fidgeting on her shoulder, nuzzling against her neck and cheeks, making her ears tingle. That mischievousness was nothing like Draco's usual aloof and calm demeanor.
—She smelled so good. He wanted to get closer to her, even closer. This thought swirled in his mind.
Hermione hadn't meant to laugh, but the ferret had tickled her. She clung to its wriggling body, falling back onto the sofa, and pleaded with a laugh, "Stop it, Draco, stop, Draco, stop..."
So the ferret stayed still over her heart, lying flat on her body, its tiny paws gripping her robes tightly.
"Why do I feel like you're so clingy since you turned into a ferret?" Hermione asked curiously.
The ferret didn't answer but simply lay obediently on her body. It nuzzled her affectionately with its small head, seemingly showing a satisfied expression.
She didn't know why she could understand the animal's expressions; it made no sense. Yet she could feel the affection and contentment, just as she could feel it enjoyed being touched.
Perhaps the thought of becoming an animal made him feel insecure, Hermione thought worriedly.
"Draco, are you all right?" she asked.
There was still no response. The ferret was busy staring at her stubbornly with its bright gray eyes—a gaze somewhat like Draco's.
She stroked the soft white fur a few times with great affection, causing it to tremble.
"Are you scared?" she asked softly, her large brown eyes gazing tenderly at him.
—No, it was less about fear and more about excitement.
After transforming into a ferret, Draco's sense of smell had become extremely acute. He could smell the enticing sweetness of his favorite green apple from her wrist, along with a faint floral scent. Under this dual stimulation of smell and touch, he felt so comfortable every pore on his body opened.
Good heavens, it was starting to tremble again. It must be terrified, Hermione thought.
"It's all right, relax—he won't hurt you anymore," she said, stroking the ferret gently, trying to comfort it. Her face was anxious, but her eyes were full of affection.
Right now, he felt comfortable from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail.
"Don't stop, Merlin, it smells so good, it's so soft, it feels so good," he thought, lost in ecstasy.
Hermione decided to help Draco return to his original form as soon as possible.
"All right, let me try breaking the spell for you... Luckily, we practiced this in Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration a couple of days ago," she said, frowning. "Hopefully we won't have to go to her, otherwise we'll have to explain ourselves again, and we might lose considerable points, or even get detention from Mr. Filch. I'll wager he wants us to clean something without magic again."
The ferret nodded at her, looking completely trusting.
So she sat on the carpet and placed it before her. However, after pointing her wand tip at him for ages, she finally lowered it shakily, saying, "No, I'm afraid I'm not skilled enough and won't be accurate enough."
Hermione was self-aware. She was just a fifteen-year-old witch who hadn't been exposed to transfiguration and Counter-Spells for very long, and most of the time, she wasn't satisfied with the effectiveness of her spells.
Professor Moody was undoubtedly a highly powerful Auror. If he were to use full power to transfigure someone, only an equally skilled Transfiguration expert could break the spell—like Professor McGonagall.
At this moment, she likely didn't have enough power to break the curse. She said to the ferret, "Draco, let's go find Professor McGonagall..."
The ferret was shaking its head frantically on the spot, looking incredibly silly. Although Hermione was confused and worried, she couldn't help chuckling and even petted it again.
—This successful touch stunned him. His body went limp, and he comfortably leaned against the carpet, following her hand.
"Aren't you afraid I'll make a mistake?" Hermione said. "You can shake your head and refuse me."
The ferret remained motionless. It lay sprawled on the carpet, gazing at her with trust, as if to say, "You can do it."
Hermione steadied her breathing and finally decided to try it herself. She knew it was risky, but she was hoping for the best.
She pointed her wand at the ferret, took a deep breath, and recited the Counter-Spell.
With a loud crack, the ferret vanished, and Draco Malfoy appeared.
The boy looked somewhat disheveled. His once meticulously styled platinum hair hung loosely over his flushed face. His robes were haphazardly wrapped around his silver-gray pajamas. A misty haze floated in his gray eyes.
"Hermione..." Draco said softly. He was lying on the carpet, still reeling from the shock of the transformation and the pleasure of his intimate contact with her.
"Thank Merlin! He just said it casually—he didn't use his full power—" Hermione suddenly choked up. She rushed over and threw herself into his arms.
She stroked his hair, touched cheek to cheek, and inhaled his scent, trying to sense a trace of his return to human form through the feedback of her senses.
The warmth of his cheek and the faint scent of cedarwood on his shoulder gradually eased her anxiety. She hugged him, letting out short sighs. Then the sighs turned into sobs, and then into choked sobs: "If you couldn't turn back, I was really going to go mad."
Only then did she dare cry aloud, feeling wronged. Because she'd had to be strong until he returned to being the calm and composed boy he once was.
Hermione didn't know why she was crying.
Perhaps it was the tension and fear of confronting a seasoned former Auror like Moody; perhaps it was the injustice she felt for Draco, who, despite being an extremely proud man, had suffered such humiliation; or perhaps it was the deep lingering fear she felt—if she hadn't had the sudden urge to visit the house-elves in the kitchens tonight, if she hadn't wandered off in a daze, would he have truly suffered such torment, feeling such excruciating pain?
And he was clearly terrified of the Cruciatus Curse.
Hermione, her eyes brimming with tears, lay atop him. She had no time to consider whether she was pinning him to the carpet, nor did she care how suggestive their position was.
Amidst her sobs, she heard his gentle, clear voice, tinged with comfort and pity: "Oh, Hermione... don't cry..."
Draco Malfoy was being held tightly by a crying girl.
Her body fell into his arms, like a dream he'd long awaited.
At that moment, complex emotions surged into the boy's heart like a tide.
He was overwhelmed by a mix of embarrassment, shame, tension, and excitement; coupled with the physical pain from being thrashed by Moody and the strange emotional reactions he was now experiencing, he felt like he was going mad.
He noticed more details.
His palm rested on her back as if in a dream. He guessed she might not be wearing anything beneath her nightdress.
He felt her embrace him almost pressed against him. Oh Merlin, she was so soft. No normal teenage boy could ignore the curves beneath her thin nightdress.
In a fleeting moment of guilt, or perhaps every moment, he wished he could bury his face in her like the ferret and listen to her heartbeat again.
Oh Merlin! Draco closed his eyes, thinking he might need to slap himself to wake up.
Even if he couldn't go that far, his face was already incredibly lucky at that moment. It was buried in her neck and hair, and the pleasant, sweet scent wafted into his nostrils.
Oh, Hermione.
She was so warm and beautiful, so innocent and gentle. She gently nuzzled his shoulder, clinging to him tenderly, intimately close. She was weeping sadly, heartbroken for him.
Her fragrance, her softness, her curves, even the way she gently stroked his hand—everything about her could drive him mad.
Draco forced himself to stop stroking her back and instead held her trembling shoulders in his hands.
Under all these stimuli, a wild beast awakened within him—that beast suddenly opened its eyes and said—it wanted to kiss her.
He wanted to kiss her.
He wanted to taste her and see if she was as sweet as he'd imagined.
But the little witch who'd just dared cast a Disarming Charm on Mad-Eye Moody was now crying uncontrollably, her tears soaking his shoulder. She sobbed and trembled in his arms, as if she herself had been the one insulted by Moody, not him.
Was Hermione Granger brave or cowardly? He wondered blankly, his mind lost in her tears and scent.
"How could he—how could he do this to you!" she sobbed, her voice broken with disbelief. "He's a professor! Yet he's torturing you!"
The brokenness in her voice finally brought the disheveled boy to his senses.
He suppressed his terrible urge to kiss her, sat up from the carpet, and scooped her up as she sobbed, leaning them together on the sofa beside him.
He quietly gripped the sofa cover with one hand, while gently patting her back with the other, soothing the sobbing girl in a calm tone: "I'm all right..."
But she still cried in his arms, and even cried harder.
Draco was in a state of utter confusion. He could no longer entertain any of his fantasies.
He hurriedly placed her head on his shoulder, hugged her, and tried saying in a nonchalant tone, "Thanks to you for saving me from Professor Moody's clutches, once again."
"He doesn't deserve it! He doesn't deserve to be a professor!" She nestled in his arms, sobbing and hiccuping, her voice vehement. "I've never seen anyone so dreadful! I'm definitely going to tell Professor McGonagall tomorrow..."
"Silly girl, then your curfew violation will be made public," Draco said, patting her shoulder anxiously. "Professor Dumbledore has high hopes for Professor Moody; he seems to be counting on this former Auror to protect Harry's life..."
"Then he should be fulfilling his duties instead of targeting you!" Hermione said angrily. "I've only recently started changing my opinion of him, and in the end, he hasn't changed at all... I think something's wrong with him! He has no sense of protecting his students... Professor Snape does a much better job than him!"
If Professor Snape knew Hermione Granger considered him the bottom line for professors—whether he should laugh or cry was hard to say—he'd probably spew a torrent of venom from his usually scathing mouth, Draco thought silently, patting her shoulder reassuringly.
"He caught me red-handed today. I shouldn't have wandered around during curfew. He wouldn't dare do anything to me in lessons; he's already promised Dumbledore," Draco said thoughtfully, his fingers tapping unconsciously on her shoulder. "I just don't understand why he was there at that time."
"What do you mean by that?" Hermione said, sniffing. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she tried hard not to think about it.
"I thought it was Barty Crouch there, but it turned out to be Mad-Eye Moody..." Draco said abruptly.
He tried his best to distract himself, attempting to forget she was leaning trustingly in his arms, gazing at him with wet eyes. He tried ignoring her thick, long hair that had fallen over his shoulders and arms, and to ignore how wonderful she smelled.
Merlin, she was like a piece of fine honey he couldn't help wanting to taste, and the part that would allow him to taste the honey was her lips.
She was gazing at him innocently. Draco's eyes darted away, his other hand fidgeting with the carpet behind him. He dared not place his other hand on her, afraid he'd be unable to resist pulling her closer and drawing her completely into his arms.
Then he might want to lay that unsuspecting honey on the carpet and taste its sweetness—which would probably frighten her.
She's upset right now—you shouldn't do anything to her, Draco told himself.
"Barty Crouch? I've only seen him once at Hogwarts. He went back to the Ministry the day the Goblet chose the champions. You can't expect him to be at Hogwarts every day. He only comes when he's judging, doesn't he?" Hermione said. When the conversation turned to business, she immediately sat upright to look at him, forgetting her tears.
Thank Merlin, she'd finally stopped crying—and moved away from him too, Draco thought wistfully, rubbing the carpet and regaining a bit of his composure.
"That's what I've been wondering about. Look—" He paused for a moment, then decided to take out the Marauder's Map.
He confessed to the curious girl, "I have evidence Barty Crouch came to Hogwarts today and even went to Professor Snape's office. First, you have to promise not to be angry with me about it. Second, I need to show you what this is..."
Half an hour later, they lay on the soft woolen carpet, studying the fully unfolded Marauder's Map.
Hermione could hardly believe her eyes—she was utterly shocked.
"Draco! You can see everything everyone's doing at Hogwarts," she said, widening her eyes and looking at Draco reproachfully.
"You could say that. But I don't have the leisure to open it every day, given the mountain of homework the professors assign," Draco said, shrugging.
At that moment, he saw the little dot belonging to Barty Crouch at the door of Professor Snape's office had disappeared; the dreadful name of Alastor Moody was now in his own office.
"But you're only telling me now!" Hermione said angrily, wiping her eyes with the handkerchief the boy had given her.
"I just hadn't found the right opportunity," Draco said awkwardly. "When I got it, I hadn't yet told you what I'd done."
Hermione remained silent. She pursed her lips and sulked for a moment, then stole a glance at his sincere gray eyes, and then at the handkerchief he'd given her—she'd lost count of how many she'd received—and finally decided to forgive him.
"Now I know how you found Peter Pettigrew," Hermione said, softening her tone and changing the subject.
"Exactly. When a rat's called that name, it's hard not to notice it," Draco said with a shrug.
"But why can't I find us?" she asked him.
Draco had been observing her reaction, and only when she showed no further signs of anger did he relax. He smiled and explained to her, "Oh, I expect the mapmakers didn't know about the Room of Requirement, so we'll disappear from the map once we enter this room."
"That makes perfect sense," Hermione said, resting her chin on her hands and gazing at the map. "And the Shrieking Shack—is it the same?"
"That's right. That's why I didn't notice anything unusual about the Shrieking Shack last year," Draco said with a grim face.
"It's not some sort of Dark artifact, is it—?"
"Oh, it was made by Harry's godfather Sirius Black, Harry's father James Potter, and former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher Remus Lupin. Perhaps Peter Pettigrew too, so he knew he was safe in the Shrieking Shack and no one could find him," Draco said casually. "But I doubt what role he actually played in this."
"My goodness, they're amazing," Hermione exclaimed in surprise. "I only knew Harry's father was a great Quidditch player, a very talented Seeker, and also very skilled with the Patronus Charm. But I didn't know he was so skilled in this sort of tracking magic..."
"They were all very talented, and this talent wasn't limited to any specific field. Just like you aren't only good at one subject—you're an all-rounder," Draco said matter-of-factly. Seeing Hermione blush, he smiled at her mixture of shyness and pride.
He smiled at her and said, "Look at Sirius Black. Even after all these years in Azkaban, you can't deny the brilliance and wisdom that shines through him."
"You seem to admire him," she said astutely. "You admire Sirius Black, don't you?"
"Oh, I can't say that. He can be rather silly at times—when it comes to Harry's father—but you have to admit, he has considerable foresight. He can see beyond the surface, which isn't something just anyone can do," Draco said, shrugging.
"Yes, what lies beneath the surface..." Hermione repeated his words softly, as if pondering their meaning. A spark seemed to flicker briefly in the mist, only to be extinguished abruptly as she tried pinpointing its location.
Her gaze wandered aimlessly across the map as she casually asked him, "So you saw Mr. Barty Crouch on the map, but then ran into Moody when you were looking for him?"
"Yes."
"With such a commotion at the office door, if Mr. Barty Crouch were inside, he'd probably come out to check it out, wouldn't he?" Hermione said thoughtfully.
"Perhaps not," Draco said, reminding her. "You shouldn't be thinking about his thoughts in conventional terms. Perhaps we should try seeing things from his perspective. If a person of high reputation who values his image were to sneak into Professor Snape's office to do something, the worst thing he could do would be coming out and letting anyone see what he was doing. He should stay in the office and pretend he doesn't exist."
"That makes sense," Hermione said. "Exactly. I've discovered you're very good at this sort of thing. You know, thinking from other people's perspectives."
Draco smiled faintly at her. "The problem is, the last time I checked the map, I didn't see Mad-Eye Moody. It was like he just appeared from thin air. You know, Invisibility Cloaks don't work on this map. It's like he carries a Room of Requirement with him and hides himself away."
"You'd be better off saying Barty Crouch is a Metamorphmagus who can transform himself into Mad-Eye Moody," Hermione said absentmindedly, shuddering. "He can conjure up a wooden leg and a magical eye... the process of transformation... it's chilling to even think about."
"Yes, but he isn't—at least I've never heard of him having that ability," Draco said, lying down on the carpet in frustration, pressing his temples and sighing. "Always just slightly short. I always feel like the answer's about to be revealed, but I'm always missing that crucial detail to fill the gap in my thinking."
"I feel the same way," Hermione said, sighing as well and lying on the carpet on the other side of the map. She turned her head to the side, her brown eyes softening. "However, it's rare to see the arrogant Draco Malfoy looking so dejected."
"Oh, come on, stop teasing me. I've already embarrassed myself before you—you've even seen me looking pathetic as a ferret," Draco said, covering his face in annoyance, his ears starting to turn red.
"I won't tell anyone, and I won't laugh at you. I've kept so many secrets for you—what's one more?" she said, a smile playing on her lips. "Besides, you looked adorable as a ferret—"
"Oh, do you think it's adorable?" Draco said, turning to look at her.
In the flickering candlelight, his eyes were like a tranquil, deep lake, possessing a magical power that made one unable to resist drowning in them.
"Very—very adorable," Hermione said, blushing, staring into his eyes, and speaking absentmindedly.