novelraw Chapter 57: An Encounter with a Skateboard Girl
Chapter 57: An Encounter with a Skateboard Girl
Chapter Fifty-Seven: An Encounter with a Skateboard Girl
"Malfoy?" The voice was somewhat unfamiliar to Draco.
As far as he could recall, very few people addressed him by his surname alone.
He turned around and saw a middle-aged woman in her late thirties with brown hair pinned up elegantly.
She was clearly not a witch. However, her Muggle clothing wasn't unattractive—it appeared elegant and understated.
"It really is you. I was wondering if I was seeing things." When she saw him turn, her eyes lit up, and she walked quickly toward him, her fair, heart-shaped face full of smiles.
"Mrs. Granger!" Draco exclaimed in surprise.
"Please, call me Monica. That's what my friends call me." Mrs. Granger winked at him cheerfully, making no attempt to hide her delight at this chance encounter.
"Then please call me Draco." Draco was always adept at reciprocating and seizing opportunities.
"All right, Draco. I haven't had a chance to thank you for the Flossing Stringmints you sent us for Christmas. We loved them. But tell me, how did you know we'd enjoy them?" She beamed at him.
Draco smiled slightly. "I heard Hermione mention it." Whether it was his imagination or not, Mrs. Granger's expression seemed even warmer.
At this point, Draco couldn't help glancing behind her. "Where's Hermione? Is she here too?"
"Oh, of course. We came to visit my father during the holidays. He settled in Bath after retiring—he has rheumatoid arthritis, and the climate and hot springs here are excellent for him..." Mrs. Granger gestured for Draco to follow, and they chatted as they walked.
Although he didn't quite understand what "arthritis" was, Draco listened patiently, his gaze fixed on her face, occasionally smiling and nodding.
When Draco wanted to be, he could be an excellent listener and a well-mannered young gentleman, without question.
Clearly, Mrs. Granger, like all middle-aged witches in wizarding families, was quite charmed by Draco's manners.
They walked several steps and returned to the square he'd just passed. This time, Draco's eyes didn't miss the girl.
In an open area on one side of the square, a girl wearing a white sleeveless shirt wobbled as she attempted to ride a skateboard.
He'd found the reason he hadn't noticed her before. Today, she wasn't wearing her thick, long hair loose—instead, it was tied up in a substantial bun, playfully swaying from side to side.
"There she is, do you see her?" Mrs. Granger smiled as she watched her daughter. "You've come at the perfect time. She wanted to learn skateboarding today, but nobody was with her, so she's been practicing alone. I don't think she's made any friends here yet."
"It's all right, I'll keep her company," Draco said without thinking. He gazed at the girl awkwardly studying the skateboard, a subtle sense of pleasure washing over him—at least this afternoon wouldn't be tedious and boring.
"Wonderful, you two can play together! I need to fetch something to drink—it's so hot today." Mrs. Granger fanned herself with her hand and said enthusiastically, "I'll bring you both ice cream later. Chocolate flavor, yes?"
Draco smiled and nodded. So Mrs. Granger happily walked away down the street, eager to find some authentic English pale ale to cool off in the heat, leaving her stubborn daughter, who was still struggling with her skateboard, to her most frequently mentioned "interesting" classmate from Hogwarts.
After watching Mrs. Granger depart, Draco quietly approached the girl.
Hermione was practicing riding the unruly Muggle contraption—the thing called a skateboard. She tentatively lifted her foot, but quickly set it down again, the skateboard screeching horribly beneath her feet.
She frowned, unconvinced, and tried again. There was no reason everyone else could manage it but she couldn't—the flying broomstick alone was already enough of a headache! Now this thing that could slide on flat ground, something even the neighbor's child could handle with ease—surely she could conquer this?
She confidently took control of the skateboard, but a small pebble unfortunately lodged in the wheel, causing the skateboard to stop abruptly and making her lose her balance and lean backward, about to tumble off the steps behind her.
In a flash, before she could even cry out, a pair of strong hands steadily supported her from behind.
"Are you trying to kill it?" The boy's mocking voice came from behind her, which elevated her alarm to another level.
This was unbelievable!
How could his voice be here? Did he appear every time she was in danger?
Hermione Granger, wake up! What are you thinking? Are you hallucinating from sun exposure?
She inwardly criticized herself, then turned her head in confusion, and amid her pounding heart, spotted a pair of pale grey eyes.
Draco? It really was him!
In his smiling eyes, there was a small, disheveled reflection of herself. Hermione's mind went blank for several seconds.
"Or are you attempting suicide by Muggle methods?" His thin lips moved, their striking redness making his skin appear even paler.
"This wasn't intentional." Her face flushed red. Forgetting her surprise at why he was there, she struggled to jump off the skateboard and proudly held her head high. "It was an accident."
Draco helped her down, a half-smile on his face. "When did our academic star become a skateboarder? If you want to fly, you could consider Quidditch."
"Draco, you're so infuriating!" Hermione heard the mockery in his voice.
She was somewhat embarrassed and annoyed because she'd shown him something she wasn't proficient at—and in such a humiliating way.
She angrily picked up the unruly skateboard, turned and sat on the nearby steps, intently studying the unsightly pebble stuck in the wheel, deciding to ignore him completely.
"Are you angry?" Draco sat beside her nonchalantly, turning to look at her. Her face was flushed red from the blazing sun, and a bead of sweat glistened on her forehead. Her lips were pursed in a defiant manner, making her appear very stubborn.
He suddenly found the sweat on her forehead slightly dazzling. Without thinking, he automatically removed his own baseball cap and placed it on her head, then looked her up and down and said seriously, "It suits you quite well."
Hermione didn't speak, but her expression softened considerably.
She finally managed to extract the pebble and was secretly pleased with herself. Only then did she notice his gesture. The baseball cap cast a shadow on her face, making her look less disheveled and more refreshed.
She pretended to examine the pebble intently. Peeking up from beneath the cap's brim, she stole a glance at him. He was observing her with a slight smile. His platinum blond hair shone brilliantly in the sunlight.
"I thought you were going to France for holiday—at least that's what you said in your letter," he said.
He was looking at her with those pale grey eyes—the color was truly beautiful. Because of those eyes, she couldn't maintain a stern expression anymore, so she simply met his gaze openly, though still didn't speak.
"Let me divine your situation... You've come to Bath to visit your grandfather," Draco said sagely.
"How did you know?" This time she finally couldn't resist asking. "Aren't we supposed to learn Divination next year? Have you already taught yourself?"
"Oh, actually, Monica told me. She wanted to fetch a drink and said she'd bring back ice cream." Draco glanced in the direction Mrs. Granger had disappeared, a hint of anticipation in his eyes.
Hermione couldn't help but chuckle—few people knew that the arrogant Draco Malfoy had little resistance to sweets.
While wondering when her mother had convinced him to use her first name, she said, "The France trip is next month. We're only here for three to five days. Why did you come to Bath?"
"I've come to visit my grandfather," Draco said frankly.
"He lives here too?" Hermione was quite surprised. She'd thought the Malfoys all resided in Wiltshire.
"He really enjoys the hot springs here. He's staying at the wizarding sanatorium." Draco finished speaking and, as expected, received an interested look from Hermione.
"Bath has a place like that?" Hermione asked with great curiosity, her eyes shining.
"Of course. Just like the Leaky Cauldron in London, they've placed Notice-Me-Not charms at the entrance, so to Muggles, the sanatorium entrance might appear as a derelict wall or something similar." Draco shrugged.
Hermione fiddled with her skateboard, marveling, "I come to Bath every year to visit my grandfather, but I never imagined magic was so close."
"If you'd like, I can show you next time. But let's not discuss that now—let's work on your skateboarding," Draco said. Seeing her fiddle with this Muggle gadget, he couldn't help feeling eager to try it himself.
Hermione looked at him somewhat skeptically and handed him the skateboard. Draco took it, examined it briefly, then suddenly placed it on the ground, stepped on it, and attempted to skate.
"Be careful—this isn't as simple as it appears." Hermione stood behind him, her voice tinged with worry.
"Don't doubt a Malfoy's athletic ability." Draco glanced back at her, unable to resist raising an eyebrow and smiling.
Being in an unfamiliar Muggle environment and experiencing novel Muggle sports gave Draco a strange sense of freedom, as if the deadly dangers of the magical world had receded far behind.
Although still harboring concerns about the Dark Lord, as the Horcruxes were destroyed one by one and the responsibility was shared with Dumbledore, he'd regained some of his naturally cheerful personality, which was often awakened by Hermione Granger.
In his previous life, he would have found this unbelievable. But in this life, everything seemed to be changing.
He temporarily forgot about the irreversible aging potion and focused all his attention on the silly skateboard. She always seemed to have some fresh method of diverting his attention and rescuing him from vexing thoughts.
Therefore, he never hesitated to smile at her, just like at this moment.
The recipient of this smile felt a certain kind of power. When a boy who rarely smiled started smiling at you, and smiled beautifully at that, any girl would blush.
Hermione was no exception. Blushing, she watched him effortlessly grasp the skateboarding basics, then saw him smiling smugly as he taught her step by step. Suddenly, she was confused about "which foot goes where."
When Mrs. Granger returned with her ale and ice cream cone in both hands, this was the scene she witnessed: her once-sullen daughter, now wearing a baseball cap askew, stood behind the boy like a tomboy, the two of them squeezed onto a skateboard, attempting to glide across the square.
The platinum-blond boy's expression was animated, completely unlike his previous mature demeanor. He was only focused on laughing and shouting, "Push gently! Keep your feet still!"
Her daughter had one arm around the boy's shoulder, a happy smile on her face. She called out to him with a slightly petulant tone, "My foot didn't move!"
"You're moving! You're dancing on the skateboard like a fool!" The boy laughed even louder as he tried controlling the skateboard, exasperated by the girl behind him who had absolutely no balance. "Hold on tight—"
"I am holding tight!" Hermione said nervously, resting her head on his shoulder and gripping his shirt tightly with her other hand.
They seemed to have grasped a few techniques, but not many, Monica thought.
She called to them, "I hate to interrupt, but this ice cream is starting to melt."
The skateboard stopped. He helped her down, carried the skateboard for her, and walked beside her toward Mrs. Granger.
"Hermione, I must apologize. I shouldn't have underestimated you. This skateboard isn't as easy to control as it appears," Draco said, a gleam of pleasure in his eyes.
"I'm glad you realized that." Her brown eyes shone brightly from the exercise. "But I must admit, I had tremendous fun just now."
Boys and girls are usually very interested in novel activities. They devoured the enormous chocolate ice cream cones Mrs. Granger had brought and practiced for a while in the sunset.
Even the habitually arrogant Malfoy heir had to admit that skateboarding suited his tastes—you had to be skillful, patient, and even more courageous to skate well.
"First, don't fear falling," he told Hermione. "Second, be decisive and stop when you need to."
Hermione was full of confidence and readily agreed. But once she was on the skateboard, she completely forgot her promise and found herself clinging to him like a Niffler to gold. She'd never been fond of "falling" and usually avoided anything that might lead to it.
"Do you remember what I just said?" he asked as he glided, his tone somewhat helpless.
"Yes! I'm following the rules!" she exclaimed.
Following the rules? Absolutely not. However, when the girl's soft, supple form leaned against his back, it was difficult for him to harden his heart toward her.
So Draco could only take her along, letting her indulge in her skateboarding passion. When the skateboard accelerated, wind would blow in their faces, carrying the scent of roses—the fragrance of flowers that pervaded the small town of Bath.
The direct sunlight and continuous exercise gave their faces a rosy hue, like Bath's sunset that day—charming and vibrant.
"My dear, Hermione was right—the boy does have a lovely smile," Mrs. Granger said to her husband, who'd come to collect them, watching them with satisfaction.
Afterward, Draco accompanied the Grangers to a well-known Spanish restaurant in Bath for tapas, as Mr. Granger insisted on treating him properly to thank him for helping them communicate with the goblins at Gringotts previously.
This was an exotic meal. The table was laden with exquisite tapas, such as fried cheese balls, garlic prawns, truffle mushrooms, calamari rings, and marinated salmon—all distinctly Spanish.
"We went to Spain two years ago. You really must try the tapas there—they're absolutely magnificent." Mr. Granger spoke enthusiastically when discussing food and travel. Passing a bread basket around, he told Draco, "Some of the most authentic things you can only find there..."
"Oh, don't mind him, Draco. He's an obsessive tourist," Mrs. Granger said with a laugh. "He's always like this, too enamored with exotic things. I should tell you about all the embarrassing incidents in Provence last year..."
"What's embarrassing about that?" Mr. Granger said righteously. "That's Provence! My dream destination! I adore it there!"
"We even purchased a small house there, and we visit for a few days every holiday," he explained to Draco with a smile, handing the boy a plate of paella so he could easily serve himself scallops and prawns. "That's the only place in the world that makes me genuinely happy." As he said this, Mr. Granger's face lit with a childlike smile, showing deep contentment.
"You mean you're not happy right now?" Mrs. Granger casually set a conversational trap, preparing to tease him.
"It's worse than death." He spread his hands dramatically, amused himself first, then quickly smiled kindly at Draco. "Of course not—I'm very happy now. But I would be authentically happy there."
Mr. Granger was probably the type of Englishman who was "besotted with everything French."
"I think I understand. I've been there too—" Draco smiled politely. He said to Mr. Granger in an understanding tone, "Many people adore the South of France."
"Exactly? You think so too?" Mr. Granger's encouraging words piqued his interest, and a relaxed, dreamy expression appeared on his face. "Whatever it is, I love it desperately. For example, if a butcher asks me in that pure, rich French, 'Do you want a cow's head?' At that moment, you'd probably try answering him in French—" He gestured, mimicking the French butcher's captivatingly frank tone in his broken French.
"Yes, you'll say 'Oui, oui, deux,' even if you don't need them at all—" Mrs. Granger said jokingly, mimicking his "authentic French accent."
"I've forgotten how to say 'no need' in French! And he looked at you so sincerely, as if that cow's head were rare and precious!" Mr. Granger said affectionately. "Monica, you know I can never refuse sincerity."
This made the other three at the table laugh.
Hermione laughed uncontrollably, her body trembling as she said to Draco, "And those local markets—the locals never shop there, but Dad goes with tremendous enthusiasm..."
"Actually, those are vendors who specifically source goods from wholesale markets and exploit tourists..." Mrs. Granger shrugged helplessly. Draco noticed she was still smiling and not genuinely angry—instead, she showed hints of indulgence toward her willful husband.
"Yes, I bought everything, loads of it. When they saw me, they were practically sharpening their knives," Mr. Granger said enthusiastically, waving his hand with self-satisfied pride, and continued with self-deprecating humor, "Four peaches for 400 francs—perfectly reasonable—"
"Then the next day you purchased a bag of French apricots for 100 francs—" Mrs. Granger bluntly exposed.
"At least the quantity was greater, and the total price cheaper," Mr. Granger said sincerely, touching his nose.
Draco and Hermione exchanged a glance across the table and couldn't help but chuckle together.
"Is your family always this lively and cheerful during meals?" Draco couldn't help asking her quietly. "Are you always discussing these lighthearted topics?"
"What else?" Hermione said with a smile. "What else should we discuss? Our digestive system is already tired enough just digesting food. We don't want to add burden by contemplating serious topics."
Draco raised an eyebrow, having never heard such a perspective before.
The atmosphere at the Granger family's dinner table was completely different from the Malfoys'.
At the Malfoy family table, you often found yourself dining while discussing intrigue, power struggles, or strategic maneuvering, swallowing a bellyful of tactics and schemes along with your meal. At the Granger family table, they seemed to prefer swallowing pleasant topics as accompaniments.
For Draco, it was an unprecedented sense of ease. Unlike the Malfoys' way of dining and conversing, which maintained certain distance, they displayed a relaxed, casual demeanor and close, caring relationships.
Perhaps Lucius and Narcissa would scrutinize their table manners—not that the Grangers were unrefined; in fact, they were quite proper.
Lucius and Narcissa probably wouldn't appreciate how easygoing they were. At the Malfoy family table, children mostly had no voice—unless their parents specifically solicited their opinion by name, in which case Draco would provide a proper answer. Even then, Lucius always thought listening to children's opinions was a "waste of time."
But the Grangers were different. During conversation, they not only shared their opinions, but the Grangers were also willing to listen. They were accustomed to taking turns speaking, without any sense of hierarchy or oppression due to age differences, and an atmosphere of equality permeated the entire table.
This was a novel experience. Draco had never observed other families interact at the dinner table. No wonder they'd raised Hermione—a confident, spirited girl who bravely expressed her own thoughts.
During their pleasant conversation, Draco quickly learned more about the Grangers. They were both dentists in the Muggle world—a profession incomprehensible to wizards. Draco could deduce that the pay was probably quite good, given that both had time to enjoy life and were accustomed to traveling—a trait he shared with Lucius and Narcissa, the "holiday escapee parents."
"Sometimes Mum and Dad discuss politics and social issues, which is quite interesting." Hermione thought for a moment and added to Draco, "I suppose they think you're a wizard and might not be interested in current events in Muggle society, so they're just discussing everyday matters with you."
Draco nodded.
The Grangers were different from the Muggles he'd imagined. He'd thought all Muggles were as annoying as Harry's aunt and uncle—stupid, vulgar, and tasteless. But Hermione's parents weren't like that.
Mr. Granger was very approachable. He was an arts enthusiast who could discuss painting, sculpture, opera, and photography. Mrs. Granger, meanwhile, was an academic enthusiast with considerable knowledge of languages such as Ancient Greek. Draco asked her several grammatical questions, and she answered immediately with understanding.
"It's truly remarkable that a boy your age is interested in studying these subjects. If you have any questions in the future, feel free to ask me. Hermione, please write down our family's telephone number for Draco." Mrs. Granger looked at Draco with a warm smile.
"Mum, the Malfoys are a wizarding family—they don't use telephones." Hermione and Draco exchanged a knowing glance, both recalling Ron's impulsive call to Harry's uncle's house not long ago.
Apparently, Harry's uncle had been quite angry about this and had even planned to confine Harry to his room.
"No problem, I can try installing one. Alternatively, I can send a letter to Hermione via owl and ask her to consult you," Draco replied graciously, his smile perfectly timed.
Mrs. Granger smiled with satisfaction. She picked up a paper coaster, took a pen from her bag, quickly drew several lines on it, and handed it to Draco.
She readily agreed, "Anyway, ring Hermione when you have time, and go shopping in Bath or something. I don't want her staying home constantly and becoming a complete bookworm."
"Mother!" Hermione glanced helplessly at Mrs. Granger.
"The number below is our telephone at our Bath residence. You can ring it over the next few days," Mrs. Granger added with a smile.
Hermione now looked like a cat with its fur standing on end—she was thoroughly embarrassed by her mother's well-intentioned invitation to Draco.
Draco decided to ignore Hermione's embarrassed expression.
He hadn't expected that the dignified and elegant Mrs. Granger would have such a lively personality privately, somewhat similar to the personality Hermione occasionally revealed. And Mr. Granger, in a sense, also had a very likable, relaxed, easygoing, humorous personality.
They were Muggles, but they were fascinating. He didn't mind conversing with them.
So he suppressed a laugh, thanked Mrs. Granger seriously, and placed the thin coaster in his pocket.
By the time Draco returned to his suite at the sanatorium, the moon was high in the sky and the breeze gentle.
In his previous life, Draco would never have believed he could interact harmoniously with any Muggle family. However, in this life, he was surprised to discover that his social activities with the Granger family weren't terrible at all—in fact, they made him quite happy.
Lying on the soft bed, he unusually didn't think about the Dark Lord, Horcruxes, or those nightmarish memories. Instead, his mind wandered, reminiscing about the joy of riding a Muggle skateboard, the sunset, the rose-scented breeze, and the girl laughing behind him... until he drifted off to sleep.