novelraw Chapter 134: The Treasure Hidden in the Black Lake
Chapter 134: The Treasure Hidden in the Black Lake
"Of course, the Bubble Head Charm can solve all these problems!"
Hermione suddenly realized, then said with annoyance, "How could I not have thought of that? And how did he think of it so quickly—he didn't even consult a single book—this isn't something we should know at our age!"
"I don't know," Harry said.
"Where is he? Where did he go?" Hermione asked, trying not to show that she cared.
"He said he needed to go back to his dormitory to get something and asked me to wait here for a moment." Harry sighed in annoyance, finally losing his patience. "Hermione, stop with your little games. You need to help me figure out the incantation for the Bubble Head Charm."
"We—we're not a couple!" she hurriedly denied, frantically flipping through a thick book. "Besides, I'm looking for it! Time is too tight, I can't guarantee you can learn it in one night! Why don't you try asking Professor Snape if he'd be willing to provide you with Gillyweed?"
"Him?" Harry said irritably. "He's probably just waiting to see me make a fool of myself!"
"You can't think like that. This isn't a regular Potions class; this is a life-or-death situation!" Hermione's fingers slid rapidly across the page, searching for the Bubble Head Charm. "Dumbledore has always trusted him! He wanted to save you in your first year, and he did in your third! If he really wanted you dead, why didn't he just let you die back then?"
"I don't know—maybe he thinks Dumbledore will sack him—" Harry said irritably. "I've given up on him! Where does this wishful thinking of yours come from?"
"That's not wishful thinking! Since he could miraculously save you the first time and the second time, why can't he break the rules and save you a third time?" Hermione said. "You have to see what's hidden beneath his stern face and sarcastic remarks—"
Harry's face darkened. "I still vividly remember him accusing me of stealing from him. I don't want to see his smug look and admit that I have any interest in his private stores! He might just find a reason to put me in detention, preventing me from even participating in the tournament."
"Oh, Harry, look what this book says—though I hate to admit it—Draco is right! The Bubble Head Charm isn't much easier than Transfiguring yourself into a submarine! It's very dangerous to cast a spell without fully mastering it!" Hermione slammed the book aside—startling Neville, who was working through his Transfiguration exercises—and began to offer other advice. "Go ask Sirius if he can get you some Gillyweed. You have the task tomorrow!"
"I can't find him!" Harry said. "Professor McGonagall said he was one of the rescuers for the task and was called away to prepare for it."
"So why didn't you tell Sirius the truth sooner? Why didn't you tell us the truth sooner?" Hermione said angrily. "Even if you could have—"
"Oh, just shut it for a bit, Hermione," Ron said impatiently. "Harry, I know what to do. Go back to your dormitory now and bring me your Invisibility Cloak. I'm going to Professor Snape's private stores."
"No—" Harry refused.
"Listen, Harry, you can't afford to make any mistakes right now, and you definitely can't get caught and put in detention; but I'm fine," Ron said sternly. "Hurry up, I'll be waiting here!"
Harry glanced at his friend and strode towards the library entrance.
"Run!" Ron said, glancing at the clock on the wall; there were still twenty-five minutes until closing time.
Harry ran off in a panic.
Not long after, a hurried figure reappeared by the bookshelf. It wasn't Harry's, but Professor McGonagall's.
"Oh, it's good to see you here," Professor McGonagall said sternly. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, come with me."
"But we're waiting—" Ron stammered.
"What happened, Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked.
"You have been chosen as champions' hostages. Professor Dumbledore will explain the details to you," Professor McGonagall said, glancing at the figure in the corner desperately trying to curl up into a ball. "Mr. Longbottom, don't try to hide yourself, I've seen you! Please keep this a secret until the task begins, and don't tell anyone!"
When Harry Potter ran back to the library, panting, the books on the desk were still open, but the seats were empty.
He stood there, stunned, wondering if he'd come to the wrong place. Ron had said he'd wait here; yet he looked left and right, and Ron was nowhere to be seen.
"Oh, you're here." Draco strolled over from the bookshelves and tossed a package to Harry. "Here you go."
Harry took it, opened it, and saw that the stuff inside—which looked like countless slippery, greyish-green strands—was indeed Gillyweed. His eyes widened. "How did you get that?"
"Have you forgotten that I have some connection with Professor Snape?" Draco said casually, without telling Harry that he'd prepared this a month ago.
"Where's Hermione?" he asked.
"I don't know," Harry said, puzzled, exchanging a glance with Draco. "She was just here a moment ago."
---
Regardless of where Ron and Hermione had gone, the twenty-fourth of February arrived as scheduled.
Since half past eight in the morning, a surge of people had been pouring out every minute along the roads leading to the Black Lake.
At this moment, Harry, face ashen, stood at the water's edge, bright sunlight shining on his cold face, as students boarded the school barges ahead of him, heading to the competition venue.
"Don't be nervous, just eat the Gillyweed after the whistle blows," Draco patted Harry on the shoulder, reassuring him.
"Thank you," Harry said gratefully, feeling as if a Bludger was lodged in his throat. He glanced at the crowd in the distance, his face turning slightly pale. "Ron and Hermione haven't shown up yet—"
"It's alright, they should be here soon." Draco glanced at the crowd nearby and said urgently, "You need to get on the barge quickly—the task is about to start. Remember, don't let your wand out of your hand! Try not to fight the merpeople hand-to-hand, alright?"
It was no wonder Draco thought so much. First year trolls, second year Basilisks, third year werewolves... it seemed that every year, Hogwarts would absurdly produce some kind of tough-skinned, magic-resistant monster intent on fighting Harry bare-handed.
Harry nodded to him, then stepped heavily onto the champions' platform boat. Before long, the boat headed toward the champions' platform in the Black Lake.
Draco watched him leave with a blank expression, but his heart was pounding.
Ron was Harry's hostage—his disappearance was perfectly understandable. Draco, however, couldn't say so openly, because he had absolutely no way of knowing the details of such a confidential task.
But where had the girl who'd been blushing from his staring gone?
He'd initially thought she'd fled yesterday out of embarrassment; however, he'd searched the Marauder's Map and could find no trace of her, as if she'd been erased by some powerful magic.
He'd originally thought she'd have no chance of being involved in the task—since Krum's dance partner hadn't been her, she naturally didn't need to be any champion's hostage.
However, with Harry's task imminent and Hermione's whereabouts unknown, something was completely out of character. An ominous premonition gripped his heart. Draco, face stiff, having stood at the lakeside entrance for so long, was coldly scrutinized by passing students. Only when the last group of visitors boarded the barges did he finally abandon his post.
"What are you waiting for?" Blaise shouted, waving at him. "Get on the boat quickly, the task is about to begin!"
"I bet he's waiting for some girl." Pansy grinned and made a face at the boy boarding the boat. "Hey, Draco, maybe she stood you up and went to the stands to grab a good seat."
"Hilarious," Draco said sullenly, clearly not finding it funny at all.
---
Before long, the barge arrived at the foot of the towering viewing stands above the Black Lake, the noise of the crowd echoing across the water.
Between the stands were small platforms where the champions prepared to depart. Draco looked down from the stands and saw several figures standing on the platforms in the distance. One of the figures had a particularly striking silver beard—Professor Dumbledore was in position.
He squinted, watching the champions. They were lined up on the platform, preparing their entry into the water.
Bagman's Sonorus-amplified voice swept across the dark lake as he read out the rules of the task. Draco paid no attention to the long-winded explanations; he hurried past the dawdling Creevey brothers, through the crowd, and straight to his seat in the stands.
There were many Gryffindor students here, but still no sign of Hermione. He looked again and again, and finally spotted a familiar, pesky face—Neville Longbottom. The round-faced boy was sitting on one side of the stands, muttering to himself, seemingly lost in thought.
"Longbottom, have you seen Hermione?" He took a long stride and stood directly next to Longbottom, giving the boy a heavy pat on the shoulder.
"Malfoy!" Neville was so startled his face turned pale. He almost jumped up from his seat. "She...she...I don't know...Can I say...has the task started?"
"Of course it's starting! Didn't you hear what Bagman was saying?" Draco threatened him coldly. "I suggest you tell me before I throw you into the Black Lake—"
"She...she was called away by Professor McGonagall, and Ron too...Professor McGonagall said...the two of them are the champions' hostages!" Neville stammered.
*A hostage?* A surge of anger suddenly welled up in Draco's heart.
What on earth were these referees doing? Why was Hermione a hostage for the champions?
Viktor Krum—and Hermione wasn't even his date. He gritted his teeth, thinking ominously.
Neville blinked, observing Malfoy's murderous expression, thinking he was still holding a grudge about his partnership with Hermione.
He hurriedly explained, his stuttering disappearing with his anxiety: "Listen to me, I didn't mean to choose Hermione as my partner. I actually asked to switch with you several times. Can you please stop glaring at me in class?"
As he watched Malfoy's face grow increasingly pale, his heart pounded with dread, feeling as if he might genuinely be thrown into the Black Lake at any moment.
Suddenly, a sharp whistle echoed through the cold, still air. Then came the splash of champions entering the water, mingled with cheers and applause from the spectators in the stands.
Amidst the cacophony, Bagman's amplified voice cut through starkly. He announced regretfully, "I have an emergency announcement: Durmstrang's champion, Krum, has had to withdraw from the second task due to health reasons..."
An uproar erupted in the stands.
"What happened to Krum?" People looked at each other and asked all at once.
Draco overheard a group of infatuated girls beside him frantically asking each other—
"Is he alright?"
"Something really bad must have happened."
"He didn't come? What about his hostage?" Rarely, Neville quickly grasped the crux of the matter, and he said, somewhat dazed, "Will the hostage remain at the bottom of the lake? Nobody goes there—"
The angry boy beside Neville didn't answer. Neville quickly turned around, only to find that the boy had vanished.
Following the direction from which the students' exclamations erupted, Neville saw Malfoy.
The boy had already strode to the edge of the towering stands.
His long, slender fingers swiftly untied his black robes, crumpled the exquisite fabric into a ball, and—as if he had eyes in the back of his head—threw it toward Neville, landing precisely on Neville's face.
When Neville pulled the robes off his head, he only saw a flash of platinum light. His mouth dropped open, and he rushed to the edge of the stands, where he saw a dark figure plunging straight into the cold, iron-grey lake.
"What did I do?" Neville turned around and shouted frantically at the people in the stands. "Someone jumped into the lake! Draco Malfoy was so angry with me that he jumped into the lake!"
*(Draco: Well said. Don't say that again.)*
Like a tiny pebble, the boy threw himself into the bone-chilling lake without hesitation.
He paid no heed to the screams from the stands, and just before entering the water, he cast the Bubble Head Charm on himself.
---
Fortunately, Draco had already mastered the Bubble Head Charm. On the very first day Harry received the golden egg, he had secretly prepared two contingency plans for Harry:
If Harry's study of the golden egg dragged on until the last minute, he would take out the Gillyweed and force it into Harry's hands before the task—he couldn't let the youngest champion of Hogwarts drown in the Black Lake, could he?
If Harry had discovered the truth about the golden egg sooner, he might have learned the Bubble Head Charm or even a Transfiguration solution. Rather than having Hermione as Harry's teacher, Draco decided it was better for him to teach him himself—to avoid any annoying gossip spreading, as it had when they were researching spells to deal with the dragon.
To this end, he spared no effort and studied these incantations thoroughly in advance.
However, Draco never expected that the Bubble Head Charm would eventually be used on himself.
He never imagined that he would walk right into a trap and fall into this dark and cold water.
Draco couldn't swim. Most tragically, he was still afraid of water. The terrifying memory of the water tank inflicted on him by the fake Professor Moody still haunted him; he remained terrified of water.
Merlin, he even hated water.
He was probably the most reckless fool in the world. Faced with what he feared most, instead of protecting himself, he'd plunged into the deep, icy depths of a February lake.
He could already imagine the mockery he would receive from all of Slytherin—but he didn't care.
He also thought of Lucius and Narcissa's annoyed expressions—but he didn't care.
He only cared about her.
---
After shivering and adjusting to the dim light at the bottom of the lake, Draco was finally able to see his surroundings clearly.
It was a strange, hazy, eerie scene. Undulating, tangled water weeds resembled a jungle, and glittering pebbles were scattered on the wide, flat silt. Nimble little fish, like clusters of silver darts, darted past him.
It looked much the same as when he used to look out of his dormitory, even though he hadn't dared to look out for a long time.
He had no interest in appreciating any of it. The lake was terrifyingly deep and painfully cold.
Even with the protection of the Bubble Head Charm, he still felt a deep sense of suffocation in his soul.
However, at this moment, he miraculously suppressed his physical instinct to return to shore.
There was one thing he had to do. He had to find her.
Bitterly cold, Draco swam straight toward the dark, hazy centre of the lake—he guessed that the spark of life within him lay there.
The silent depths of the Black Lake concealed many dangers. Draco chose to act quickly. He dealt with a few troublesome Grindylows lurking in the weeds, inwardly thanking Lupin for his dedicated teaching during their third year—determined to give him a raise when they graduated—and decided to swim higher, further away from the weeds.
However, he soon lost his sense of direction.
It was too quiet here, deathly quiet. He used to love this quiet, but now he missed the hustle and bustle of crowds.
That's when the Giant Squid appeared. It lazily circled Draco, seemingly unsure of his intentions, and shook its massive tentacles in confusion.
Draco, seeing that it seemed harmless, cautiously asked, "Do you know where they are? The merpeople?"
After asking, he felt a pang of foolishness. How could a Giant Squid understand human language? Unexpectedly, the Giant Squid shook one of its giant tentacles at him.
Draco had a strange feeling—it was gesturing for him to follow.
And so he struggled to follow the Giant Squid, swimming toward that unknown, seemingly endless darkness.
He swam for a very long time, until he was almost frozen stiff, when he finally saw a large expanse of black silt surging at the lake bed. In the dark eddies, a large rock was faintly visible in the murky water, seemingly depicting patterns of merpeople and Giant Squid.
The Giant Squid stopped here and slapped the pattern on the large rock—a pattern of a mermaid chasing a Giant Squid with a spear—as if it were throwing a tantrum.
"Thank you," Draco said to its retreating back, his voice muffled inside the bubble. The Giant Squid swayed its enormous tentacles impatiently—as if it were time to clock out—and swiftly turned and swam away along the same path without stopping.
Just then, Draco heard an ethereal, mournful song echoing across the lake, stirring his heartstrings. It grew clearer and clearer, just like his own heartbeat.
*"There's only one hour left.*
*We must find and reclaim the items we took..."*
He knew he had come to the right place—she must be nearby.
This realization overcame his confusion and panic, and overwhelmed his hesitation and doubt. With her in his heart, his expression remained firm, and he swam forward following the increasingly loud singing.
He swam past rough stone dwellings stained with algae, past ugly merpeople peeking out from inside with malicious smiles, past one or two Grindylows chained up like pets. With a drumbeat of worry and anxiety playing in his heart, he finally arrived at the square of the merpeople village.
She was there. Draco's spirits lifted.
He spotted her immediately.
His girl, his most secret fantasy, his deepest longing, the source of his madness—his Hermione.
She remained heartbreakingly still. Her thick hair, like brown seaweed, floated weakly in the water. In a panic, he rushed over, leaving the cold, fear, and panic behind.
As he got closer, he discovered that she was tied to the tail of a giant mermaid statue. Her head slumped limply on her shoulder, lifeless—a sight that filled him with despair.
For a fleeting moment, her pale, unconscious face seemed to overlap with a scene from a past life.
*Hermione, Hermione, Hermione.*
Draco could barely breathe. The sight had ripped his heart apart, leaving him utterly devastated.
However, she still had a sliver of life. Tiny bubbles occasionally escaped from her mouth, the only evidence that she was still alive.
Thank Merlin for that—his shattered heart was temporarily revived with hope. He rushed over and embraced her, only to find her bound by thick, slippery ropes, and his heart ached once more.
He cursed under his breath and desperately began tearing at the sturdy ropes, hoping to free her as soon as possible.
---
Harry Potter had been lingering near the mermaid statue for quite some time.
Everything had gone surprisingly smoothly underwater. Thanks to the Gillyweed, he'd grown gills—making him look like a half-human, half-fish creature—and moved freely underwater. Then Moaning Myrtle had pointed him in the right direction, and he'd found Ron without much trouble. He'd already cut the weed rope binding Ron with a sharp stone.
The only problem was that the merpeople wouldn't let him rescue any more hostages.
He'd spoken at length with a seven-foot merman leader—being able to understand Mermish—trying to reason with the grey-skinned creatures, imploring them to let him rescue the rest of the people; but the merman leader with the spear just laughed and refused him, whilst the mermen with large grey hands kept surrounding him, preventing any further rescues.
Just as he was getting angry at these unreasonable merfolk, one of them suddenly stretched out his arm and pointed behind him. He turned around and saw a figure swimming toward him.
*"I must be hallucinating from anger,"* Harry thought bitterly. *"What kind of champion would have hair that colour?"*
Or rather, who else besides Draco would have such striking hair?
Harry was even more surprised as the boy drew closer.
That wasn't some hallucination from anger; it was the real Draco Malfoy, the platinum boy of Slytherin.
The boy's expression was unlike anything Harry had ever seen. He was panicked, desperate, and vulnerable; his usually indifferent face was now filled with madness.
Harry shook his fish-head, feeling that his newly grown gills must have done something strange to his mind.
How could this be? The boy least likely to appear at the bottom of the lake had suddenly appeared before him, wearing the most incomprehensible expression.
But when the boy swam swiftly past him without even glancing at him, Harry suddenly had a revelation.
That was absolutely the real Draco. His target was so clear, his eyes so earnest. His gaze remained fixed on one person.
He'd come for Hermione. She was always in his eyes—only her.
Harry suddenly remembered the night he'd discovered the Dark Mark, catching a glimpse of Draco protecting Hermione out of the corner of his eye.
That resolute expression, that decisive action—it was exactly the same as now.
At this moment, the single-minded boy, true to form, swam straight toward Hermione and—quite uncharacteristically—abandoned his usual composure, clumsily trying to untangle the ropes with his bare hands.
Seeing Draco act so recklessly made the trip worthwhile. Harry suppressed a strange smile, understood perfectly, swam over, patted Draco heavily on the shoulder—startling the boy on the verge of madness—and shoved a sharp rock into his hand.
"Harry!" Draco finally noticed the dark-haired boy behind him. He looked at the sharp rock in his hand and understood. He mumbled "Thank you" and began to cut the ropes, his hands trembling, careful not to hurt her.
Harry exhaled a string of bubbles, patted him approvingly on the shoulder, and went to find another sharp rock.
At this moment, the meddlesome merfolk gathered around. They seemed to realize that he wasn't one of the champions, so they stopped Draco, preventing him from cutting the ropes and taking Hermione away.
Perhaps only a champion could take her away. But his poor Hermione had no champion coming to her rescue, Draco thought bitterly.
She only had him.
Draco had no time to worry about the merpeople's thoughts. Time was ticking away, and the Bubble Head Charm had a time limit; he couldn't afford to linger.
So, with a heart full of despair, he took out his wand, pointed it firmly at the merpeople, and let his cold indifference take over, looking at them with icy calm.
"Let us go," he threatened, even though he knew they wouldn't understand. "Or I'll turn you into soup on the Hogwarts table."
The merpeople never expected to encounter such a scene. They were skilled in water, but they were afraid of wands.
Although they didn't understand human language, they understood human nature. They saw a kind of desperate determination in the eyes of this boy who had appeared out of nowhere.
There was a madness in the boy's grey eyes, a power that burned deep inside.
After a few seconds of hesitation, they scattered, watching the boy with unease. They whispered amongst themselves as he desperately used the sharp edge of the rock to cut the rope, again and again, trying to sever the shackles of freedom, to cut through all the barriers that stood between him and her.
The rope snapped. Draco hurriedly caught the girl he'd just found, fearing she would drift away with the current. She was unconscious, nestled in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, clinging to him as she had when she was conscious.
Yes, it was her. He felt relieved, but also came to his senses. As reason returned to his mind, he felt the air in the bubble beginning to thin—he had to swim back immediately.
He pocketed his wand, said "thank you" to Harry again, and gave a forced smile.
Harry nodded to Draco and waved his webbed hand, signaling him to hurry up.
Harry was inevitably stirred by Draco's actions.
In the frigid Black Lake, he'd unexpectedly discovered Draco's hidden, burning emotions—manifested in a kind of mad and desperate form—that almost brought the cold water to a boil.
This was extremely rare. It was very, very rare for a risk-averse Slytherin—a precocious boy who often lectured him with a stern face—to break every rule and panic so profoundly for someone.
This completely shattered Harry's previous understanding of Draco. He knew Draco liked Hermione; he had known for a long time. However, he'd never imagined that such sincere and passionate feelings would emerge so profoundly in a Slytherin.
For a long time, many people had asked Harry why he would befriend a Slytherin like Draco. Now he seemed to have found the final answer—the seemingly cold boy was not cold at heart, but rather harbored a deep fire within.
A spark from that fire landed on Harry, giving him a bit of inspiration.
Harry drew his wand and, like Draco, said bluntly to the rule-bound merman leader, "Let me take the rest of the hostages, or I'll turn you all into fish soup!"
The merman leader was still shaken by Draco's actions and had long since stopped laughing; seeing Harry imitate him, the merman leader's face twisted in disgust.
---
Draco was no longer concerned about what Harry was doing behind him.
He gazed upwards, arm around the girl's waist, trying to float upward as quickly as possible.
He had to hurry—much faster—before the air ran out. She had to be safe.
He was certain they were still very deep underwater; the pitch-black surface above was the best evidence.
How exhausted he was. He shouldn't have been here. He wasn't an experienced champion; he was just an unprepared spectator, a coward who would never willingly put himself in danger.
But he couldn't rest, nor could he afford to panic. Before he could breathe again, he had to do one last thing: send her up, to the surface and the light, away from the dark depths.
The Bubble Head Charm was teetering on the brink of collapse. Draco admitted he wasn't a master of it. He'd only learned it to teach Harry, and he'd been nearing his limit for some time.
Besides, he was moving more slowly than he had coming down. On the way back, he carried the sleeping Hermione in his arms. Was she heavy? No.
She was the sweetest burden in the world, an obsession he would never let go of.
The air inside the bubble was already thin. He was like a novice overestimating his abilities, preparing to climb to the summit of a snow-capped mountain without oxygen.
As his lungs reached their limit, Draco finally saw the water growing lighter. With his last ounce of strength, he raised his arms and hurled her upward—her sweet, brown hair vanished through the surface—and the bubble burst in an instant.
In that instant, dark memories swept over him.
Draco remembered the feeling of choking in the water tank. Helpless, powerless, terrifying. All remaining consciousness vanished—leaving only the real sensation of suffocation.
A surge of warmth welled up in his eyes, but it was instantly swallowed by the cold—insignificant and negligible—just as he was, sinking into this dark lake, unable to struggle any longer.
Exhausted and utterly spent, he sank deep into the lake.
---
Hermione opened her eyes.
One second she'd been standing in Professor McGonagall's office, hypnotised by Professor Dumbledore's magic and drifting into a warm dream; the next second she was suddenly awakened, shuddered, and found herself in a freezing lake.
Her head surfaced, and she heard distant cheers from the stands above. She gasped for breath, bobbing up and down on the lake surface, her mind reeling.
In an instant, she looked around—where was the person who'd saved her?
Fragmented memories gradually surfaced—it seemed as if a force had just pushed her up from below.
Was it a dream or an illusion? Just then, she spotted a dim, swaying shadow beneath the surface.
It looked like a human shape, Hermione thought, treading water. Through the violently swaying waves, she could vaguely make out a white shirt, dark trousers, and a few streaks of gold—platinum.
In that instant, she suddenly remembered that when she'd woken, someone had indeed pushed her upwards with force.
Who exactly was that person?
That golden colour, which should never have appeared in the lake, was—
A sense of familiarity confused her, while a terrible possibility terrified her.
Hermione opened her eyes wide, took a deep breath at the surface, pinched her nose, and plunged into the icy, frigid depths of the lake.
Suddenly, she saw a terrifying truth.
Platinum-blond hair, a pale, helpless face, tightly closed eyes floating in the water. He possessed a heartbreakingly desolate beauty, a strange, numb smile drifting with the current as his body slowly sank.
*That's not some damned champion!* Hermione's eyes widened in shock, the lake water stinging and blurring her vision.
It was Draco—that bastard who could torment her heart with just a glance.
He was the person she'd always silently longed for.
No—she couldn't believe it. It made no sense.
He was terrified of water—so terrified that he couldn't even sleep peacefully in his dormitory at the bottom of the Black Lake!
How had he ended up here?
"Oh God!" she cried in her heart. She swam rapidly, arms outstretched, swimming down to him, to him. She grabbed his shoulders with both hands, trying to make him open his eyes and look at her, trying to bring him back to his senses.
Draco was on the verge of drowning. The feeling of oxygen deprivation, the fear of constantly choking on water, and the emptiness of exhaustion made it difficult for him to even lift a hand.
Before he sank completely, the only thing he was certain of was that she had surfaced.
*That's good. She's alright.*
He smiled, closed his eyes, and slowly slid downward. His body was numb from the icy water, the chill penetrating to his very bones, gradually bringing him a strange, floating warmth.
The hallucinations began.
In the darkness, it seemed as if a pair of arms encircled his neck, and something so delicate it made his heart tremble touched his lips and pried open his teeth—someone was breathing into him.
*He may have encountered a miracle.*
No one could save him—how could anyone save him?
That awful, gloomy, cold, numb version of himself.
He was at the bottom of the lake... He was in purgatory... He was in the abyss...
He was exhausted. He struggled to open his eyes, wanting to persuade the person trying to redeem him to give up. But in the fleeting light, he saw Hermione's bright eyes watching him with concern.
Oh—his Hermione.
His secret. His fantasy. His obsession. His foolish, greedy desire.
Her lips were pressed against his, and a breath of oxygen entered his mouth. He could breathe again.
It was her. Her eyes were glistening with gentle, watery light.
He saved her. She then saved him.
They kissed quietly in the cold, dark depths of the lake, in a way that symbolized their inseparable bond.
The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.
It was as if everything had stopped, and only he and she remained in the world, gazing at each other.
They fell, fell, and kept falling.
Falling into the abyss, falling into darkness, falling into love.
Draco breathed in her scent and wrapped one arm around her waist.
This stubborn girl—she just had to come back to find him.
She brought him back to life; he would never let anything happen to her.
Draco's grey eyes were no longer dull and lifeless, but instead revealed a bright, faint smile.
The oxygen restored his thinking, and he finally had the strength to reach for the wand at his waist. He embraced her and silently cast a spell—they surged upward from the depths and burst through the surface.
*Being rescued was that simple,* Draco thought, floating on the water. *Just one step away. Just one step away from her taking the first step toward him.*
---
The stands were already buzzing with excitement.
Sirius Black's hair was completely soaked. He leaned over the platform and reached out to them, first helping Hermione to shore, then Draco.
"Where is Harry? Have you seen him?" Sirius asked his godson anxiously.
"He's behind me. He'll be up soon," Draco said, trembling.
Sirius was finally relieved.
"You idiot, you Slytherin romantic!" he laughed, pulling the soaking wet boy up and whistling at him.
Draco stood shivering in the cold air, frowning at Sirius's mocking expression, feeling as if Sirius could see right through him. He retorted irritably, "Shut up—"
However, he had no time for more vehement rebuttals, because Madam Pomfrey suddenly rushed over in a great fuss, stood in front of him, draped thick towels and blankets over him, and poured a Warming Potion into his mouth.
A burst of hot air suddenly escaped from his ears and dissipated into the damp, cold air.
"Severus recently improved it so it doesn't smoke for hours on end," Madam Pomfrey said happily. "It only needs to smoke once; he's so ingenious!"
"I'm so happy to hear this good news," Draco said, trembling. "Thank you."
The sudden warmth made Draco realize just how cold he was. He was shivering uncontrollably. Hermione, wrapped in a large towel, rushed over, grabbed another dry towel, and draped it over Draco again.
Draco was still trembling. He was only now beginning to realize what he'd done. He'd jumped into the Black Lake and struggled in the vast, terrifying water for a full hour.
He didn't know how he'd done it, nor how he'd found her.
Seeing his pitiful state, Hermione was heartbroken. She wrapped herself and the towel around him and asked in a pained tone, "Why—why are you so foolish? You can't even swim! Aren't you always afraid of water? Are you completely mad?"
"I didn't think too much about it. I was just focused on finding you." Draco sneezed, his already pale face turning blue from the cold.
"I was just staying underwater temporarily as Krum's hostage—they wouldn't have done anything to me!" Hermione frowned, looking at his face, but still didn't let go of his hand.
"No! They needed to know..." His teeth chattered from the cold, his face contorting as he spoke. "You are my treasure...not his. I promised you that leaving you behind would never happen...never!"
He'd promised her that night at the Quidditch World Cup.
She'd said that being abandoned felt terrible... she hated it.
A Malfoy wouldn't easily let go of what he should hold onto. He wouldn't easily let go of her.
"Weren't you supposed to be playing it safe? Weren't you supposed to be carefully weighing your options? Weren't you supposed to be selfish?" Hermione pouted, suddenly feeling utterly deceived. "Weren't you supposed to be distrustful of people? Weren't you supposed to be unnoble, ungracious, and ungenerous? What do you think you're doing?"
"You—are different," he said stubbornly in a low voice. "You're not like them."
"You fool, you fool—" Hermione said, her voice trembling with tears.
There was intense pain mixed with profound emotion in her eyes. She was unable to hold them back.
Seeing her tears, he panicked. He once again abandoned his pride and struggled to say, "I'm so sorry. I said the wrong things, I did the wrong things. I shouldn't have hurt you. I'll try to change, alright? Don't be angry with me anymore, alright?"
"No, Draco, stop...I just couldn't let go of my pride...I was so stupid...I'm not angry with you anymore." She sobbed, stroking his wet face with both hands, kissing his forehead several times, then hugging him tightly and burying her face in his shoulder.
"Ah...youth..." Madam Pomfrey, standing to the side, wiped away tears of emotion from the corners of her eyes with a dreamy expression.
"By Merlin, I will never say Draco Malfoy was calm and collected again! Look at the way he jumped in!" Ginny's exaggerated voice echoed around them as she rushed over to check on the situation. "Those Slytherins were absolutely gobsmacked! Hermione, you should have seen their faces!"
"Draco's just plain mental. Nothing was going to happen to us—why would he jump into the lake and freeze for an hour?" Ron, wrapped in a thick blanket, said helplessly. "I thought he was more mature than his peers, but now it seems he's just as daft as Harry! No, no, Percy, don't do this! Don't come any closer, let go of me, I'm fine!"
---
The results of the task were announced shortly afterward.
Harry received extra points for saving two people—Ron and Fleur's little sister Gabrielle—and tied for first place with Cedric.
With Fleur failing midway through the task and Krum forfeiting, their points dropped significantly.
Although Draco was not a champion, his act of saving a hostage—like Harry's—embodied the spirit of Hogwarts and its moral character, for which Dumbledore awarded fifty points to Slytherin.
A cheer suddenly erupted from the Slytherin stands, which had been filled with nervous murmuring.
"You two are something else, Harry! And Draco!" Ron yelled through the commotion, flapping like a duck in Percy's eager embrace. "So you weren't being silly—you were putting on a moral display! Percy, please, let me go!"
Hermione paid no attention to anything around her. She paid no attention to the conversations of those nearby, to Bagman's amplified voice, or to the commotion on the distant platform.
She only cared about the platinum-haired boy she was holding, whose face was pale from the cold.
She never wanted to let go again.
When a person is willing to overcome their greatest fear and risk their life to save another, all the past awkwardness and conflicts between them seem insignificant.
Yes, he had always been self-protective, calculating, and selfish. He had never been noble, generous, or selfless, let alone compassionate. He had never hidden these things from her.
His inner world was always incredibly narrow. He was always prejudiced and arrogant, cold and indifferent to many. He found it difficult to open his heart or place his trust in others. Beneath his calm mask lay madness, and within his outwardly restrained nature lay an infuriating, even monstrous side—
But he was never heartless toward her. In his narrow world, there was always a place for her. He tried to be honest with her; he told her so many secrets, and he never lied to her. Time and time again, he saved her without hesitation.
He always favoured her—abandoning all his principles—and loved her with all his might, losing his mind, trying his best to be worthy of her.
"You bastard...you fool..." She stroked his pale face, crying even harder. Between sobs, she showered his cheeks with kisses.
"Yes, it is." He trembled, forcing a smile amidst her shower of kisses, as if he had received the greatest reward of his life.
In Hermione Granger's blurry vision, three things were certain:
First, Draco Malfoy was still a bastard.
Secondly, Draco Malfoy was also a fool.
Third, she had fallen hopelessly in love with this bastard and fool.