The rustle of turning pages.
The faint whisper of breath.
Only at night does the library reveal its other side.
If you listen carefully, you can almost make out the quickened beat of a heart.
Not only because Hermione had broken the rule about entering the Restricted Section, but because Draco was sitting right beside her...
...
In this empty space, if they wanted to read without being discovered, Draco and Hermione had no choice but to squeeze together by the narrow window.
They leaned close, relying on the moonlight spilling in to make out the words on the page.
One could imagine just how close they had to be if they wanted to read anything at all.
“Ancient Runes—magical script said to have been created by elves.”
“Elves? But... that...”
“The elves I an aren’t those goblins. They were the earliest intelligent beings capable of using magic.”
Focused on reading and talking at the sa ti, Draco didn’t notice Hermione’s strange reaction. Her stamring, which sounded like shock, actually carried a subtle guilty tremor. With their shoulders pressed together, the warmth of Draco’s body seed to seep through her arm, making Hermione’s head feel light and overheated.
She knew this wasn’t the ti to get distracted, yet she couldn’t pull her eyes away from Draco’s profile. Her petite body leaned helplessly against him, unable to muster even a bit of strength...
His serious profile.
His thoughtful gaze.
Long fingers turning the pages in a steady rhythm, lips touched with silver light moving as he spoke.
In the moonlight, Draco made Hermione feel as though she were seeing him again for the very first ti.
The mories that surged up suddenly—combined with the silent, empty room and their being alone together—hit Hermione far too hard...
...
“I think the restriction Dumbledore set must have used runic magic in the charm.”
“Mm... really?”
“And it seems to extend the duration of the spell. Interesting, isn’t it? I actually found the sa thing sowhere else.”
“Mm... I see.”
“...”
“........”
Draco glanced sideways at the girl next to him.
“Hermione Granger is actually an idiot.”
“Mm... I think so too.”
That was the mont Draco realized sothing was definitely off.
When he looked up, he finally saw Hermione’s odd state.
Her wide, shimring eyes and flushed cheeks—no matter how you looked at it, sothing was clearly wrong.
And whether it was his imagination or not, the air seed to carry a sweet scent. Draco’s fingers stilled as he found himself stealing several more glances at her.
Noticing Draco’s gaze, Hermione abruptly snapped back to herself and turned her head away, as if trying to cover sothing up.
“And then?”
“........” Draco picked up another book, speechless.
Obviously, this idiot hadn’t listened to a single thing he’d said...
Perhaps because she sensed Draco had figured sothing out, Hermione shifted awkwardly, brushing her legs together before changing the subject.
“Norberta... How has she been lately? I haven’t visited her in so long.”
“Her? She’s been doing just fine. If you’re free, I’ll take you to see her.”
Hermione really hadn’t visited Norberta for quite so ti.
And the reason she suddenly brought her up wasn’t only to change the subject—there was sothing else behind it as well...
“Speaking of that... the prophecy from last ti, do you rember it?”
“The prophecy? You an the one Professor Sybill made in Divination class?”
Draco paused, surprised Hermione would bring this up now.
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it, because...”
“A dragon?”
“............” Hermione hesitated, then gave a small nod.
Compared to the earlier parts of the prophecy, it was the final lines that weighed on her mind.
After all, there was a dragon sitting right beside her.
Hermione didn’t know if she was reading too much into it.
But unlike when she had first beco a witch, as her magical knowledge grew and her understanding of the world widened, she had slowly co to grasp just what kind of person Draco was—soone who could communicate with dragons.
And combined with the prophecy, it was impossible not to think more about it.
She’d never found the chance to ask before. Only now did she finally say it aloud...
Under the moonlight, Draco held Hermione’s gaze without a word.
Having known her for so long, he had never once doubted her intelligence or her sharp intuition.
He didn’t expect he could keep his ability to speak with dragons hidden from her forever.
What surprised him was that she waited until now to finally voice her suspicion.
“Go on. Tell what you think.”
“Well... do you have sothing like Parseltongue—so kind of talent that lets you communicate with dragons?”
Hermione took a deep breath, her eyes locked on Draco’s. In the end, she still asked.
It mattered, because without genuine trust, a question like this was dangerous.
No witch or wizard wanted their secrets exposed.
And compared to Parseltongue, a power like Draco’s was sothing people would fear—and covet—even more.
Yet Hermione asked anyway...
Draco let out a quiet laugh.
“If I’m guessing correctly, this is probably why the Death Eaters want to recruit .”
He didn’t answer her directly, choosing instead to bring up sothing else.
And with that, Hermione suddenly understood. She grabbed the front of Draco’s robes in alarm.
“Why... no one should know except ... unless Hagrid—”
“Relax. It wasn’t Hagrid.”
“Then who?”
“It was my mistake. I didn’t understand anything about Horcruxes.”
“Horcruxes?”
Hermione blinked, baffled. She couldn’t figure out how this connected to Horcruxes at all.
Had sothing been exposed because of them?
But from what Draco said, she realized the truth: Voldemort and the Death Eaters had likely learned about Draco’s ability to speak with dragons. That was why they wanted him, why they had been willing to take the risk of showing up at the Quidditch World Cup.
That level of interest said a lot.
And yet, judging from Draco’s calm expression...
Things hadn’t reached the worst point—not yet.
Reviews
All reviews (0)