No one knew exactly when it had started, but Goyle and Crabbe—Draco’s usual followers—had gradually co to accept Hermione Granger’s presence without question.
So when Hermione spoke up, not a single person tried to interrupt or mock her.
It was as if this know-it-all girl naturally belonged by Draco’s side.
At most, a few of them just exchanged... slightly awkward looks.
Even Hermione herself failed to notice the subtle shift—or perhaps she subconsciously chose to ignore it.
The only person who seed to question it at all was Pansy.
“Why are you even here? Don’t tell this compartnt was ant for Gryffindor students?”
“...”
“...”
The mont Pansy’s gaze swept across them, Goyle and Crabbe imdiately lowered their heads, trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible.
That question—which sounded innocent enough but was really a jab at Hermione—was conveniently ignored by everyone present.
After all, soone else was bound to step in and answer her.
“According to A Hundred Important Notes About the Hogwarts Express, there’s no such rule assigning compartnts to specific houses. Therefore, my being here is perfectly justified.”
“Hermione Granger.”
The way Hermione delivered her response—calm, factual, and with the air of a classroom lecture—made Pansy’s eyelids twitch in irritation.
Unable to argue back, she turned her glare toward the true culprit: Draco, who had just put his book down.
If it weren’t for worrying about him, none of them would even be here together in the first place...
After shutting Pansy down so neatly, Hermione returned to the previous topic—though the hint of pride on her face made Pansy’s little fists clench tighter in frustration.
“As for what we were talking about earlier, I think I know who’s been spreading... well, let’s just say unflattering things about Draco.”
“Oh?”
Before Hermione could go on, Pansy jumped in imdiately. “Do you even need to ask? Obviously it’s the Gryffindors. Who else would it be?”
“If I hadn’t spoken up, you wouldn’t have figured that out so fast.”
“Who... who says that?”
“Then why do you need Goyle and Crabbe to investigate?”
“You don’t get it.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t get it.”
It had to be said—compared to Astoria, Pansy and Hermione were like fire and water, cats and dogs—born to clash.
It seed inevitable that they’d start arguing the mont they were in the sa room.
Just monts ago, they had been discussing who was behind the rumors, but sohow the conversation had devolved into an argunt over who was actually smarter.
Seeing the topic drift further and further off course—and catching the helpless looks from Goyle and Crabbe—Draco finally decided to speak up from his seat...
“No need to investigate those Gryffindor students. We have more important things to deal with.”
Draco’s voice imdiately drew everyone’s attention.
“Goyle, Crabbe—go confirm those rumors. I want the original version, not the exaggerated nonsense that’s been spreading lately.”
“It’ll be difficult... but we’ll get it done.”
At Draco’s command, Goyle and Crabbe exchanged a look of relief before bolting from the compartnt as if escaping a battlefield.
Once they were gone, Draco turned his gaze toward Pansy.
Sensing his eyes on her, Pansy straightened her back—a motion that made Hermione’s eyebrow twitch with irritation and, admittedly, a hint of envy—and declared, “Draco, if there’s a task for , I’ll handle it better than anyone else!”
Her tone sounded earnest enough, but the fleeting glance she threw at Hermione carried the unspoken ssage that the other girl was completely unreliable.
Noticing it, Hermione gripped her book tightly in anger.
Draco, anwhile, was absently touching his chin in thought, completely unaware of the silent skirmish happening beside him.
“Pansy,” he said at last, “you know the wizard Barty Crouch, don’t you?”
“I do,” she replied, frowning slightly. “But why are you asking?”
“Look into him. Especially his son—or any living blood relatives.”
“Hmm... understood.”
Before leaving the compartnt, Pansy made a point of glaring at Hermione Granger, who still hadn’t moved from her seat.
But when she noticed the way Draco looked at Hermione, as if he ant to say sothing privately, Pansy hesitated. Then, with a small stomp of her foot, she turned and left.
She was curious about what Draco wanted to say to Hermione, of course—but she also understood the look in his eyes. That knowledge made her leave feel heavier, tinged with reluctant frustration.
Hermione, on the other hand, suddenly realized her heart was beating faster than usual. Though it wasn’t even sumr yet, she felt flushed, fanning her cheeks lightly to cool herself.
If Pansy had seen this, she would’ve stord back in imdiately, no doubt.
But Draco—oblivious to a girl’s thoughts and certainly no Legilins—spoke plainly, revealing why he’d asked Hermione to stay.
“What happened?”
“Huh? What... what do you an?” Hermione blinked, feigning confusion. “I don’t really understand what you’re talking about.”
If two people shared a certain connection, a few words were often enough to communicate what they ant.
And it seed Draco and Hermione had that kind of connection.
When Draco asked his seemingly random question, the flicker of unease on Hermione’s face gave her away completely.
Draco didn’t bother to soften his tone.
“Don’t let Pansy’s attitude fool you. She noticed sothing was wrong too—that’s why she asked.”
“You an she... No, that’s impossible.”
“So sothing really did happen?”
“You’re trying to trick !”
Realizing it too late, Hermione puffed out her cheeks, clearly annoyed. She hadn’t expected Draco to use such a transparent tactic on her.
But, as Draco had guessed, Hermione was indeed dealing with sothing.
As for Pansy’s motives—why she’d acted the way she did—that part was sothing Hermione subconsciously chose to ignore.
“It’s about Potter and the others, isn’t it?”
“I...”
“You should understand what that ans. As long as you’re close to —”
“What are you trying to say? That Slytherins shouldn’t have Gryffindor friends? Or that I’m just so naïve fool in your eyes?!”
Huff... huff...
Hermione’s sudden outburst caught Draco completely off guard, leaving him montarily stunned.
And in that silence, he realized she wasn’t the sa little witch he used to know. She’d grown—she now thought deeply about the aning behind every action and every word.
Still, Draco couldn’t shake the feeling that what truly upset her was his attempt to analyze the “risks” of being close to him.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
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