Draco Malfoy waited listlessly at the Slytherin table, so hungry he could eat a whole Hippogriff.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared from the ceiling above the Great Hall, making the hundreds of candles floating in the air appear dim.
Through the gleaming, empty gold plates and goblets, Draco could see Harry emptying water from his shoes. Hermione was also sitting at the opposite table, soaking wet, her once-bushy hair now plastered miserably to her face, looking just as wretched as the other Gryffindor students.
He guessed it was Peeves who'd caused the trouble, because he'd seen it holding a large water balloon before entering the Great Hall.
*I wonder how her wound is doing, and whether it got wet.*
How could such a clever witch forget to cast a Drying Charm on herself? Draco thought uneasily, whilst clapping to welco the new students into Slytherin: Malcolm Baddock, Graham Pritchard...
The tattered Sorting Hat was very efficient. Before long, all the new students were in their places, and Dumbledore, dressed in a magnificent dark purple robe, announced that dinner was served. Empty plates were piled high with food, and the hungry students quickly began to eat and drink heartily.
Draco was slowly and deliberately chewing a piece of steak, maintaining the manners instilled in him by Narcissa even though he was very hungry. He glanced around discreetly:
Crabbe and Goyle were wolfing down their food—they were so engrossed in working together to finish a plate of roast chicken that it seed like the most important thing in the world.
At the other end of the table, Blaise was grinning mischievously and saying sothing to Pansy, making her laugh so hard she nearly fell over.
Looking further away, at the opposite table, Hermione had accidentally knocked over a tall goblet. She pouted as she stared at the orange pumpkin juice on the white linen, her gloomy expression sowhat endearing... He suddenly felt subtle sense of joy and satisfaction.
Everything was as it had been before, and the world was at peace.
Hogwarts shut out the gloom and hardship, and everyone seed like gleeful little fools.
mories of his fourth year in his previous life surfaced in Draco's mind; that year, for him personally, had seed relatively carefree.
He wished he could stay in that mont forever.
No, there might still be so troubles.
For example, Mad-Eye Moody, who'd just walked into the Great Hall, was the newly appointed Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
How could he forget Alastor Moody?
He'd inflicted such profound humiliation on Draco—turning him into a ferret in front of everyone. A Malfoy's pride had been shattered by this terrible forr Auror.
When Dumbledore announced the cancellation of this year's Quidditch season, he'd been rely sowhat disappointed; but when that scarred face, the mutilated nose, and the darting blue magical eye appeared at the Great Hall entrance, Draco felt a pang of stomach ache.
He listened to the cheers of his classmates—they were excited about the news that the Triwizard Tournant would be held at Hogwarts—and his mood suddenly plumted.
---
"We don't have Professor Moody's class until Thursday!" Ron said disappointedly, flipping through the titable during Care of Magical Creatures. "George and Fred said he was brilliant, knew what 'practical experience' was all about, and that he'd seen it all!"
"What does that an?" Hermione asked, trying to bring so frog spawn close to the whitish, slimy, deford creatures—the kind of Blast-Ended Skrewts Hagrid had bred.
"No," Draco quickly pulled her away a bit. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to put your hands near their tails—they'll explode. You'll get hurt."
"How did you know that?" Hermione retorted, only to hear Dean Thomas scream the next second—"Ouch! It hurt ! Its tail exploded!"
"Ah, yes, that's what happens when they blast-end," she heard Hagrid say seriously.
Hermione turned to him, looking at him in surprise. "Draco, how did you know? Hagrid only just hatched them."
"That's not important. What's important is that we should eliminate them before they grow up," Draco said dismissively. "They're useless."
"Hagrid won't agree," Hermione said, shaking her head. "He's wanted to keep these for ages. Ron, what did you an when you said Professor Moody 'knows about practical experience'?"
"I heard he demonstrated illegal Dark curses in class," Ron said excitedly. "George and Fred admire him and think he's quite daring. No wonder—he used to be an Auror and captured loads of Death Eaters. He must have so skills."
Draco remained silent. Indeed, Moody was a forr Auror, and he'd always been ruthless toward Dark wizards.
He knew that wizards of Auror background like Moody would hate him—hate him for no reason—just as Barty Crouch hated him.
They looked at him, but not just at him; they looked at his family behind him and his father's Dark Mark.
Draco was helpless in the face of this.
The Malfoy family motto stated: So things are beyond our control, so we must control ourselves.
Since he couldn't control their hatred or the fact that they'd appear before him, he could only control his own behaviour, act cautiously under their harsh attitude, and leave them with no room for criticism.
"I'll stay as far away from Professor Moody as possible," Draco resolved.
---
But so troubles weren't sothing you could avoid just because you wanted to.
Even though Draco wanted to keep a low profile, Professor Moody wasn't going to let him off easily.
He displayed intense hostility from the very first roll call in Defence Against the Dark Arts: "Draco Malfoy—ah, yes, I know your father, son...you tell him that Moody is keeping a close eye on his son...you tell him that for ..."
His magical eye darted around on his weathered, scarred face, making Draco feel nauseous.
"Yes, sir," he said, trying to remain calm.
Professor Moody glared at him for a mont before shaking his grizzled hair away from his twisted, scarred face to reveal his nose, which was missing a chunk, and continued calling out nas from the register.
This was just the beginning.
In the next lesson, when Professor Moody was demonstrating the Imperius Curse, he Enlarged a spider and made it do ridiculous things. He left the spider, which was tap-dancing, on Draco's face for a long ti, which elicited laughter from the classroom.
"Back in the day, the Imperius Curse caused the Ministry of Magic a lot of trouble." Moody said slowly, controlling the twitching spider with his wand with great interest. "A considerable number of cowards, in order to avoid being imprisoned in Azkaban, fabricated all sorts of lies, saying they were under the Imperius Curse, although I think they were just talking rubbish."
Draco tried his best to keep a straight face. It took enormous self-control for him not to gasp—not because he was as afraid of spiders as Ron, but because anyone who had this experience would feel physically uncomfortable.
"Completely under my control," Moody said, seemingly getting bored with his lack of reaction. He began manipulating the spider, making it roll around in place. "I can make it jump out of the window, or drown itself, or jump into the throat of one of your classmates..."
Ron in the front row flinched. At that mont, all the students stopped laughing at Professor Moody's words. Draco tried hard not to think whether Professor Moody was threatening him.
Next, Professor Moody demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse.
This was more like torture for Draco.
Professor Moody took a sip from the curved hip flask he carried with him, smacked his lips with satisfaction, licked them, and said coldly to the Enlarged spider, "Crucio!"
Imdiately, the spider's legs retracted completely, pressing tightly against its body. It rolled over, body convulsing violently and swaying from side to side.
*If it could scream...*
Instantly, Hermione's terrifying and shrill screams echoed in Draco's mind.
Bellatrix slowly carving "Mudblood" into her with a knife. As Bella's Cruciatus Curse continued, her once bright and spirited eyes looked at him with pain and pleading.
What had he been doing at that ti?
At that mont, his hand holding the wand had trembled slightly, like a coward, his heart gradually filled with imnse pain and sense of being torn apart... yet he'd remained motionless.
*No... Hermione... he's going mad...*
"Stop!" Hermione Granger scread.
She was sitting not far from Draco, so she could clearly see Draco's hands, his knuckles white as he gripped the table tightly; she could also see that his grey eyes, which had remained calm and collected when facing the spider, were now filled with deep fear.
Faced with the Cruciatus Curse, he looked as if he were facing a werewolf or sothing even more terrifying with his bare hands.
*Sothing's wrong with him,* Hermione thought worriedly.
"...Extre pain." Moody finally stopped torturing the poor spider and said softly. "If you could cast the Cruciatus Curse, you wouldn't need thumbscrews or knives to torture others...This spell was once very popular."
He glanced at Draco, clearly having spotted the Malfoy heir's weakness. His crooked mouth twitched, revealing mocking smile.
"There's one last, most powerful curse." Professor Moody pulled the last struggling spider from the jar and placed it on Hermione's desk, seemingly expressing his slight displeasure at being interrupted whilst casting the spell—"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of dazzling green light appeared, and the spider flipped over, lying on its back on the table. There were no wounds on its body, but it was undoubtedly dead.
Like Professor Charity Burbage, the forr Muggle Studies teacher—it lay lifeless on its back on the table. Draco stared at the spider, face ashen, as those dark mories flooded back like a tidal wave.
"The Killing Curse requires very strong magical power as foundation—you can all take out your wands, point them at , and say this spell. I suspect I'd only get a nosebleed at most..." Moody's voice echoed in the classroom, sotis near, sotis far, prompting all the students to take out their parchnt and write down these points.
Hermione noticed that all the students were exhibiting sense of extre discomfort.
Harry was deathly pale, but Neville's face had turned pale even earlier; Ron nearly fell off his chair.
She also felt unwell. She felt the threat of death and sense of awe for life.
But the one she cared about most was Draco.
He remained motionless, gripping the corner of the table as if experiencing the greatest fear of his life.
As soon as class ended, he jumped up and rushed out of the classroom, looking as panicked as a fugitive, without even saying goodbye to her.
"I have to go now," she said hastily to Harry and Ron. Ron's face had regained its colour, and he began to speak of Professor Moody with admiration.
For so reason, she found the tone of his voice very harsh.
"Going to the library again?" Harry asked casually.
"No, I'm going to find Draco!" She hurriedly grabbed *The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection* and squeezed through the crowd of students.
---
Hermione found him by the Black Lake. He was lying on the grass under an oak tree, staring blankly at the large, dark, bluish-grey clouds rolling across the sky—the weather looked like it could rain at any mont.
"Draco, why aren't you going to dinner?" She appeared above him, her fair face obscuring the gloomy sky, and said in a light-hearted tone. "I saw there's chocolate cake in the Great Hall today. Don't you like it?"
"Hermione..." The boy on the grass looked very sad, even sowhat weak. He murmured, "I'm so sorry...Hermione..."
"Why are you apologizing to ?" Hermione asked worriedly as she crouched down to look at him. His furrowed brows looked painful, and she tried to smooth them out with her hands, but to no avail.
"What happened? Were you frightened by the Cruciatus Curse? Or the Killing Curse?" Hermione asked with worried expression, continuing to stroke his eyebrows.
He did not answer.
Like a drowning man, he suddenly grabbed her wrist, grasping the only piece of driftwood adrift in the deep lake. His gaze frantically fell on her arm—a smooth, fair, unmarked arm.
"Thank rlin, thank rlin." He seed relieved, his thumb rubbing her arm incessantly, as if he couldn't get enough of touching it.
Hermione's face flushed slightly.
Draco—he was always a perfect gentleman, treating her with utmost courtesy.
Of course he would touch her.
When they collaborated on potions in the dungeons, their fingertips would often touch. When they worked on assignnts together in the library, their arms would sotis brush against each other. He'd held her waist on the congested campsite paths, held her legs when carrying her back to the tent, and held her hand when applying dicine to her... But after all, there were legitimate reasons for all of this.
He never touched her casually or without clear reason.
Even today.
He was direct and without reason, touching, holding, pressing, and caressing her. This was the first ti.
He was acting very strangely right now. He seed very vulnerable.
"Draco, are you alright?" she asked in trembling voice, mind adrift.
"No." After a pause that seed to last a lifeti, he finally answered her. "Very bad."
Her heart clenched at his tone. Worried and in low voice, she asked him, "How can I make you feel better?"
"Uh—" He exhaled, his gaze sliding from her wrist to her eyes, staring at her with broken look. As he gazed at her, he slowly moved her wrist to his cheek.
"Like this," he said softly, his breath brushing against her wrist. "This will be better."
Hermione's pupils dilated.
She couldn't understand any of his actions at that mont, let alone make sense of the logic behind them.
He made her flustered. She blushed. She felt lost and unsure of what to do.
But she couldn't bring herself to break free from him.
She liked his touch—she always had; even if it was for no reason, she couldn't hate it; most importantly, he seed to need her now.
So she suppressed the blush rising on her face and continued to let him do as he pleased with her wrist. She let him press his cold cheek against her wrist, remaining motionless. His pale lips stiffly touched her skin. The heat emanating from his nose ward that small area, almost lting her.
He kept staring into her eyes—with kind of unwavering sadness in them—which made it hard for her to refuse.
Her face gradually felt as if it were being burned by fire. It seed as if his heat trickled down her wrist and onto her face. She didn't even dare to clench her hands or move herself even an inch.
For a mont, she feared that any slight twitch, any movent, might startle his cheek and amplify the sorrow in his grey eyes. That sorrow was so intense, so overwhelming, that it made her uneasy.
She suppressed her unease and waited patiently for him. She waited for a long ti, until her legs went numb from squatting.
She'd forgotten how many howork assignnts she still needed to start imdiately, and how many books on house-elf rights she hadn't finished reading. All she wanted was to stay with him and get through this strange and sad mont.
Plop. A drop of water hit a blade of grass beside them. Then a second, a third.
"Draco," she began hesitantly, "it's raining—it's starting to rain."
She used her other hand, which he wasn't holding, to gently shield his face from the few raindrops that were falling—she didn't want them to get into his eyes.
Those clear, gentle, fleeting eyes.
Through the gaps between her fingers, she could see those eyes blinking in confusion, until the calm, deep grey finally returned to his pupils.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I will never let that happen again," he said softly, his lips moving as if kissing her arm.
But his expression had nothing to do with any romanticism. His tone was firm: "Absolutely not."
He peeked at her through her fingers, yet it seed as if he was looking elsewhere through her. It was strange feeling, but she had it nonetheless.
All she could do was smile at him, heart pounding, to let him know she was alright and didn't need an apology.
"Can you forgive ?" Draco asked cautiously and painfully, looking at her smiling face.
It was feeling of having never experienced suffering before—she'd never known what "heart-wrenching pain" ant.
The smile was so beautiful, yet at this mont it caused him excruciating pain.
He suddenly realized sothing.
He was willing to pay any price to protect her innocent and fearless smile.
"I don't even understand what you're talking about. What's there to forgive? I've never blad you for anything. Stop scaring like this, alright?" Hermione said gently, tilting her head to examine his face.
Her words completely woke Draco up.
He slowly sat up from the grass, brushed the grass clippings off his robes, and at the sa ti brushed away his emotions, transforming himself back into the calm and elegant Malfoy heir.
"Alright," he said.
The raindrops suddenly grew larger. They fell like pebbles, soaking everything around them.
"Oh no!" They looked at each other and laughed at each other's dishevelled, wet hair.
The familiar Draco was back. He stood up, pulled her up, and looked at her with haughty yet tender gaze, the vulnerability in his eyes vanishing instantly, like raindrops disappearing into a vast black lake.
"Co with !" he said to Hermione, smile beginning to spread across his face. Before they were both completely soaked, he led her toward the castle.
His hand gripped her arm tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.
Hermione was pulled along by him, jogging along, feeling happy for his faint joy; though she still couldn't understand why he'd been sad before.
The only thing she was certain of was that the spot where he held her felt unusually hot in the cold rain.
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