Chapter 1596 - Ch: 1-10

Hogwarts: Transmigrated As Malfoy, Many Children, Many Blessings

Chapter 1: You Be savior, I'll Take the Girls

[The timeline has been slightly altered, and the plot has minor changes, which is unavoidable in fan fiction. If you mind, please don't read! Wishing everyone a happy reading!]

"Hold your arms a bit higher, child."

"Don't move around, needles don't have eyes."

A somewhat high-pitched female voice nagged in his ear.

Draco snapped his eyes open.

What met his eyes were tape measures flying all over the place.

And black fabric being automatically ironed.

Where is this? Am I dreaming?

The platinum-haired boy in the mirror was also looking at him.

A pale, pointed face.

Grey-blue eyes.

And that innate sense of arrogance.

Draco Malfoy.

Damn it! How did I become this unlucky fellow!

House of Malfoy.

Death Eater.

Azkaban.

Family ruined and dead.

That noseless Lord Voldemort treated Malfoy Manor like a public toilet.

Coming and going as he pleased.

Is this the future?

Draco only felt a chill run down his back.

This start is practically hell mode.

"Ding."

A sound suddenly rang in his mind.

[Many Children, Many Blessings System activated.]

[Binding Host: Draco Malfoy.]

[Host detected in the novice period, issuing Novice Gift Pack.]

[Congratulations on obtaining: Charm Aura LV1 (Passive skill, significantly increases attraction to the opposite sex and makes it easy to gain favor).]

Draco was ecstatic.

A system.

The standard equipment for a transmigrator.

Although the name sounds a bit improper.

As long as it's useful, it's fine.

He glanced at the panel.

The interface was simple.

Just a few task bars and attribute bars.

[Novice Task Issued: Host, please have your first intimate contact with a potential female within half an hour.]

[Task Reward: Elementary Defense Against the Dark Arts Mastery.]

Intimate contact?

Here?

Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions?

Draco looked out through the shop window.

Diagon Alley was bustling with people.

All of them were Wizards wearing robes.

"Alright, dear, try this one on."

Madam Malkin walked over holding a dark green robe.

Draco obediently spread his arms.

Since I'm here, I have to live differently.

The original Draco was a waste who only knew how to rely on his father.

The current him.

Wants to be the King of Slytherin.

As for Harry Potter?

Whoever wants to be savior can be it.

You go do the suffering, I'll do the enjoying.

The wind chime rang, and the shop door was pushed open.

A thin, black-haired boy wearing round glasses walked in.

His hair was messy, like a bird's nest.

Harry Potter.

The Boy Who Lived.

That big oaf Hagrid followed behind, blocking the light at the door.

Draco only glanced at him before withdrawing his gaze.

The current Potter is just a country bumpkin who hasn't seen the world; he has no value in befriending.

Moreover, he has more important things to do now.

Just then.

The doorbell rang again.

A young girl hurried in.

Holding several thick old books in her arms.

Her long brown hair was as bushy as a lion's mane.

Her front teeth were slightly large.

But that didn't affect the delicate beauty she hadn't yet fully grown into.

Hermione Granger.

The future miss know-it-all.

Draco's eyes lit up.

A red number popped up on the system panel.

[Target Locked: Hermione Granger.]

[Potential Rating: 90.]

[Meets task requirements.]

It's her.

Hermione looked very ill at ease.

This was her first contact with the wizarding world.

Everything was novel.

But it was also unsettling.

"Hello, are you here to buy robes?"

Madam Malkin went to greet her.

"Yes, Madam."

Hermione's voice was a bit nervous and slightly high-pitched.

"I also need Hogwarts robes."

She stood there somewhat awkwardly.

Her eyes darted around.

And happened to meet Draco's in the mirror.

The platinum-haired boy was looking at her.

His gaze was very strange.

It was a kind of... appreciation?

Hermione thought she had seen wrong.

She instinctively covered her mouth.

That was the place she was most self-conscious about.

That pair of slightly protruding front teeth.

In Muggle school.

There were always mean kids who called her 'Beaver'.

"Hey, look at the new one."

A fat boy nearby having his measurements taken whispered.

"Hair's as messy as a broomstick."

"And those teeth, is she here to gnaw on wood?"

The fat boy let out a burst of malicious laughter.

Hermione's face instantly turned bright red.

Her eyes filled with tears.

She wanted to retort.

But this was the wizarding world.

She didn't know if she could afford to offend these people.

A sense of helplessness enveloped her.

Suddenly, a black figure blocked her path.

A faint scent of vanilla drifted into her nose.

It smelled very good.

It was Draco.

He stepped down from the footstool, his movements as elegant as a little prince.

He ignored the fat boy and walked straight up to Hermione.

He didn't despise her Muggle-born outfit, nor did he mock her hairstyle.

Draco reached out.

His slender fingers lightly pinched the collar of Hermione's robe.

There was a crease there.

"Don't move."

His voice carried a kind of magic that made it impossible to refuse.

Hermione froze.

Her heart rate suddenly accelerated.

Thump.

Thump.

This boy was too close to her.

So close she could see his silver-grey eyelashes.

So close she could feel his warm breath on her forehead.

Draco's fingers didn't leave immediately.

Instead, they brushed against her neck seemingly unintentionally.

The moment their skin touched, Hermione's whole body shuddered.

This feeling was so foreign.

"The material of this robe is not bad."

Draco commented indifferently.

Then he turned his head and gave the fat boy a cold glance.

"Shut up."

"You have more nonsense than you have fat."

The fat boy was intimidated by that look.

He opened his mouth but didn't dare make a sound.

Draco looked back at Hermione.

In those grey-blue eyes.

At this moment, they seemed to be filled with starlight.

[Charm Aura LV1 in effect.]

"Your teeth are very cute."

Draco said softly.

His fingers slid along Hermione's cheek.

Helping her tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

His fingertip lingered on her earlobe for half a second.

It was very soft.

It was very hot.

"It means you are very smart and full of intellectual beauty."

"Only idiots would only focus on appearance."

Hermione was completely dazed.

No one had ever praised her like this before.

Her face was as red as a ripe tomato.

Even the tips of her ears were flushed through.

She looked at the boy in front of her.

Noble.

Elegant.

Yet so gentle.

In that instant, she felt everything around her disappear.

Leaving only those grey-blue eyes.

[System Prompt: Task completed.]

[Bond Level +5.]

[Reward has been issued.]

Draco withdrew his hand.

He felt secretly pleased.

Young girls are indeed easy to trick.

A few nice words and she doesn't know which way is up.

However, the feel was indeed not bad.

Even if she wasn't fully developed yet.

The smoothness of that skin was top-tier.

"Draco."

A steady male voice came from the door.

Carrying a hint of impatience.

Lucius Malfoy stood there.

The Snake-head cane in his hand lightly tapped the ground.

He looked at his son.

Then looked at the girl who was clearly Muggle-born.

His brow furrowed slightly.

"Are you finished?"

"We're in a hurry."

"Coming, Father."

Draco turned around.

Resuming that lazy aristocratic tone.

Before leaving.

He winked at Hermione.

"See you at Hogwarts."

Hermione stood blankly on the spot.

Her hand tightly gripped the collar he had just straightened.

It seemed his body heat still remained there.

"See you at Hogwarts..."

She murmured to herself.

Her heart rate hadn't settled yet.

Harry watched from the side, dumbfounded.

Who is this guy?

So arrogant?

But that girl seems to really fall for it?

Draco followed Lucius out of the shop door.

The sunlight was a bit dazzling.

He narrowed his eyes.

The first step can be considered taken.

A potential stock like Hermione.

Must be won over.

Not just for the system rewards.

But more to change the future.

As for Harry.

You just go and have your love-hate relationship with Voldemort.

A resource like girls, you can't handle it.

Let a professional do it.

And this isn't over yet.

Since I'm going to do it.

Then I'll do it big.

I heard that crazy girl Luna.

Seems to live nearby as well?

Or maybe I'll run into her on the train to school?

Draco licked his lips.

A playful smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

This wizarding world.

Has suddenly become interesting.

Chapter 2: The Train Shambles, Snatching Hermione and Luna

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Steam filled the air.

Parents were saying goodbye and students were running around everywhere.

The noise was enough to make one's head throb.

Draco refused to let Goyle and Crabbe follow him.

Those two idiots would only lower his class.

He carried his trunk alone, pushing through the crowded masses.

His eyes scanned the train cars like radar.

He was looking for Hermione.

Soon, he found his target in a compartment in the middle section.

Hermione was sitting alone in a corner, reading a book.

"The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1".

Quite the bookworm, but cute.

Draco pushed open the compartment door.

His movements were light, but he still startled the person inside.

Hermione looked up abruptly.

Seeing it was him, her eyes instantly lit up.

"May I sit here?"

Draco pointed to the seat opposite her.

"Of course!"

Hermione closed her book, looking a bit flustered.

"I mean... there's no one here."

Draco sat down.

Their knees bumped in the cramped space.

Hermione pulled her legs back as if she'd received an electric shock.

Her face turned red again.

"I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy."

He reached out his hand, palm up.

It was an inviting gesture.

Hermione hesitated for a moment before placing her hand on his.

"Hermione Granger."

Their hands met.

Draco's fingers tightened slightly, and he rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand twice.

It was very discreet.

And very suggestive.

Hermione felt a wave of heat on the back of her hand.

She wanted to pull away, but part of her didn't want to.

Just as the atmosphere was perfect.

The door was pulled open roughly.

Ron Weasley stood at the door.

There were a few freckles on his face.

In his hand, he held a rat that was only half-transformed in color.

Behind him followed an embarrassed-looking Harry.

"Is anyone sitting here? Everywhere else is full."

Ron asked carelessly.

Then he saw Draco, and his expression changed immediately.

"Malfoy."

"Weasley."

Draco didn't stand up.

He just leaned back lazily against the seat.

That condescending attitude.

Made Ron very annoyed.

"Let's go, Harry, don't stay with this Death Eater's son."

Ron pulled Harry to leave.

He also took a jab at Hermione.

"Why are you with him? Watch out or he'll put a curse on you."

"Besides, your buckteeth are scary enough; you don't need a Densaugeo on top of that."

Hermione's face instantly turned pale.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Apologize."

Draco's voice was cold.

The temperature in the compartment seemed to drop a few degrees.

He stood up, his presence so overwhelming that Roncould hardly breathe.

"What did you say?"

Ron stiffened his neck.

"Apologize to this lady."

Draco walked up to Ron.

Though they were about the same height.

But his gaze was like he was looking at a cockroach.

"You have not only insulted a lady but also showcased your meager upbringing."

"That's in Chapter Three of 'The Theory of Charms': Curse Backlash."

"If you had read even a single page, you'd know that a low-level curse like Densaugeo is ineffective against someone with a magic-affinity constitution."

Draco made up a theory on the spot.

But his tone was incredibly certain.

Ron's face flushed.

He hadn't read any books.

He stammered for a long time, unable to speak.

Harry watched from the side.

He felt that Ron had indeed gone a bit too far.

"Forget it, let's go."

Ron dragged Harry away in a pathetic retreat.

Like two stray dogs.

Draco sat back down.

He saw Hermione looking at him with eyes full of admiration.

[Charisma Aura LV1 is in effect.]

"Thank you..."

Hermione said softly.

"You're welcome."

Draco smiled.

He leaned forward slightly, getting closer to Hermione.

At this distance.

He could smell the faint scent of ink and books on her.

"In this world, intelligence is the sexiest thing."

"And you, Miss Granger, possess that talent."

Hermione felt her heart was about to leap out of her throat.

This boy was too smooth!

He made her feel comfortable and safe.

She even felt an urge to get closer to him.

Draco saw the bond level rise again.

He was satisfied.

That was enough for now.

Can't push too hard.

One must know how to pull and release.

"I'm going to patrol the carriages; the prefect asked me to help out."

Draco told a lie.

In reality, he was going to find someone else.

Although that crazy girl might be a year below him.

But he remembered that Luna often came to the station to see off her father or just wander around.

Even if she hadn't enrolled yet.

He could still run into her.

Or maybe this was just a perk of the fan-fiction world?

He found his target in a carriage at the end of the train.

It was very quiet there.

A few upper-year Slytherins were bullying a young girl.

Throwing her things all over the floor.

The girl had long, dirty-blonde hair.

She wore a necklace made of Butterbeer corks.

Her eyes were dreamy, and she seemed completely indifferent to the bullying.

Luna Lovegood.

"Get lost."

Draco leaned against the doorframe.

Toying with his wand.

Although he didn't know any advanced magic yet.

But the Malfoy name.

Carried weight in Slytherin.

When the upper-year students saw it was him.

Though annoyed, they could only slink away.

Draco entered the compartment and knelt down to help Luna pick up a magazine she'd been holding upside down.

"the quibbler".

"Your things."

Luna looked up.

Her silver-grey eyes were large.

But lacked focus.

She stared at Draco for a moment, then suddenly spoke.

"Your head is full of pink bubbles."

Draco was stunned for a moment, then laughed.

That description was quite apt.

His head really was full of thoughts about picking up girls.

"And Wrackspurts; they're buzzing all around you."

Luna reached out her hand.

Waving it around Draco's head.

As if trying to shoo away something invisible.

Draco didn't dodge; instead, he reached out.

Placing his hand gently on top of Luna's head.

Her hair was very soft and felt nice to the touch.

Like stroking a cat.

"Then help me drive them away."

His voice was soft, with a hint of persuasion.

His fingers slid down through her hair.

His fingertips accidentally brushed against the rim of Luna's ear.

Luna shrank her neck back slightly.

But she didn't resist.

Instead, she nuzzled his palm like a small animal.

Very obedient.

[System Notification: Special contact achieved.]

[Reward: Spiritual Sight Talent (Enables vision of certain hidden creatures or energies).]

The world before his eyes changed.

Draco did indeed see some strange spots of light.

Is this the world through the eyes of the crazy girl?

Interesting.

"Draco!"

A sharp shout interrupted the atmosphere.

Pansy Parkinson came running over in a huff.

Like a little hen protecting her food.

She saw Draco's hand still on that crazy girl's head.

She immediately became jealous.

"What are you doing? Why are you paying attention to this lunatic?"

Pansy rushed over.

Grabbing Draco's arm.

Pressing her whole body against him.

Pansy was clearly more developed than Hermione.

A soft mass pressed against Draco's arm.

Draco could feel the surprising elasticity.

Pansy looked up with a face full of grievance, her eyes brimming with tears.

"You didn't even come to find me; I've been looking for you forever."

She was acting spoiled, her body constantly rubbing against him.

Trying to assert her ownership this way.

Draco took the opportunity to pull her close.

"Be good, don't make a scene."

He blew a breath into Pansy's ear.

Pansy's face turned so red it looked like it might bleed.

Her previous anger vanished, replaced only by shyness and joy.

[System Notification: Pansy Parkinson's favorability is maxed out.]

[Reward: Basic Spell Instant-Cast Technique.]

As expected, childhood friends are easier to handle.

Draco held Pansy with his left arm.

And waved to Luna with his right hand.

"See you at school, crazy girl."

Luna tilted her head, watching the two of them walk away.

"Even more pink bubbles..."

The train began to slow down.

Hogwarts had arrived.

In the darkness of the night, the massive Castle towered majestically.

The Sorting Ceremony was about to begin.

Chapter 3: Mr. Hat, You Don't Want to be Burned Either, Do You?

Professor McGonagall stood on the high platform holding a piece of parchment, her face solemn.

Behind her were four long tables, and thousands of candles floated in the air, lighting the Great Hall as bright as day.

The first-years huddled together, shivering.

Draco stood at the front of the crowd, standing out like a crane among chickens.

He didn't look around like the others.

Instead, he maintained a perfect bearing.

"Harry Potter!"

As Professor McGonagall called out the name...

...the Great Hall erupted.

Everyone was whispering.

Necks were craned long...

...wanting to see what savior looked like.

Harry walked up nervously.

The Sorting Hat dawdled on his head for a long time.

Finally, it shouted, "Gryffindor!"

A burst of cheering followed.

Especially the Weasley twins; they shouted the loudest.

"Draco Malfoy!"

It was finally his turn.

Draco took a long stride and walked up the steps.

Elegant.

Confident.

The eyes of all the girls in the hall were unconsciously drawn to him.

Even a few older students over at the Ravenclaw table...

...stopped their conversations.

This freshman...

...was a bit too handsome.

Draco sat on the high stool.

Professor McGonagall placed the tattered Sorting Hat on his head.

The hat was large, covering his eyes.

Only his straight nose and pale lips were visible.

"Hmm..."

A tiny voice came into his mind.

"Another Malfoy."

"Undoubtedly Slytherin, but..."

The hat seemed to hesitate.

Because it felt the abnormality of this soul.

That maturity.

That bottomless desire.

"Do you want to go to Gryffindor too?"

"No."

Draco responded coldly in his mind.

"Listen, you old hat."

"Don't talk nonsense."

"I'm going to Slytherin, and I'm going to be the king there."

"If you dare sort me anywhere else, or if you speak of my secrets..."

"...I wouldn't mind adding a bit of fire to the fireplace for you tonight."

This was a blatant threat.

The Sorting Hat shivered.

It had been on countless heads.

But it had never seen such a domineering freshman.

"Alright, alright..."

The hat compromised; it didn't want to be burned.

"Since you have such ambition..."

"Then—"

The hat suddenly screamed.

Its voice was louder than ever before.

"Slytherin!"

"But... a very ambitious Slytherin!"

The whole hall fell silent for a second.

Then the Slytherin table erupted into a burst of applause.

Although it wasn't as enthusiastic as savior's...

...it was very rhythmic.

Draco took off the hat.

He casually tossed it to Professor McGonagall.

Without even glancing at her.

He walked toward the long table.

He didn't head for the seats Goyle and Crabbe had saved for him.

That was the freshman area.

Too crowded.

Too noisy.

He walked straight to the middle section.

Where the upperclassmen were sitting.

And... the Greengrass sisters.

Daphne Greengrass.

The future flower of slytherin.

She was already a beauty in the making.

There happened to be an empty seat next to her.

Draco sat right down.

Squeezing himself between two girls.

"You don't mind, do you, ladies?"

He tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips.

They were very close; Daphne could smell the scent on him.

Her face flushed slightly.

"This is the third-year section..."

She reminded him in a low voice.

"The view is better from here."

Draco leaned back, his arm casually draped over the back of the bench.

His fingertips almost imperceptibly brushed Daphne's shoulder.

Through the robes, that touch made Daphne's heart flutter.

She said nothing more, which was taken as silent consent.

The girls around were all stealing glances at him.

This freshman...

...was so bold.

But he was indeed charming.

The feast began.

Various delicacies poured out onto the gold plates.

Draco ate elegantly.

He chatted and laughed with the older girls beside him.

They talked about the latest Wizard robe styles.

They talked about old pure-blood family anecdotes.

His conversation was far beyond his peers.

Humorous.

Witty.

From time to time, he could make Daphne giggle uncontrollably.

She could hardly hold her fork steady.

At the staff table...

Snape was looking over with a grim expression.

His black eyes were full of confusion.

This was Lucius's son?

Shouldn't he be provoking Potter?

Or putting on a stupid "my father will hear about this" act?

Why did he look like... a veteran playboy now?

Moreover, the way he was like a fish in water at the Slytherin table...

Made Snape feel an inexplicable... sense that the vibe was wrong.

Draco felt his godfather's gaze.

He raised his goblet; though it was only Pumpkin Juiceinside...

He drank it as if it were red wine.

He gave Snape a toast from afar.

Then, his gaze crossed most of the Great Hall.

It landed on the Gryffindor table.

Hermione was sitting there.

Sandwiched between Ron and Harry.

Looking a bit out of place.

She was also looking at Draco.

Their eyes met in the air.

Draco's lips curled slightly.

He raised his cup toward Hermione.

His eyes held a hint of ambiguity that only the two of them could understand.

Hermione understood instantly.

He was greeting her.

She lowered her head shyly.

Clutching her bread, her heart beat like a drum.

"What is he doing!"

Ron bristled, the chicken leg in his mouth spraying out.

"That Death Eater's son is hitting on Hermione!"

"He's definitely up to no good!"

Ron waved his fork as if shooing away a fly.

Harry also frowned.

He always felt Malfoy was dangerous.

But he couldn't say exactly what was wrong.

Draco withdrew his gaze.

He didn't pay any attention to the commotion over there.

The seed had been planted.

It was only a matter of time before it sprouted.

The feast ended.

The prefects led the freshmen back to the Dungeons.

Draco walked at the end of the line.

Like a king inspecting his territory.

Back in the Common Room.

The green lights, the view of the lake bottom—everything was very dark.

But he liked it; this was the smell of power.

It was late at night.

His roommates were all asleep.

Goyle's snoring was thunderous.

Draco lay on his Four-poster bed.

The System panel lit up again.

[Night Task Issued: Midnight Exploration.]

[The nights at Hogwarts are full of secrets and opportunities.]

[Please perform a night stroll and "encounter" a lone Witch in the Castle.]

Draco sat up.

A playful smile appeared on his lips.

Night stroll?

Encounter?

A lone Witch?

This system...

...is understanding him more and more.

Chapter 4: Shh, Don't Make a Sound, Senior

Gregory Goyle's snoring was heavy, and Vincent Crabbesmacked his lips in his dreams.

Draco Malfoy sat up in bed, his bare feet stepping onto the stone floor; the chill gave his spirit a jolt.

From his trunk, he didn't take his Wizard robes, but instead changed into a set of black, form-fitting casual clothes.

The tailoring was excellent, making it easy to move.

In the mirror, his platinum-blond hair remained conspicuous even in the dark, and paired with that pale face, it was indeed an invincible weapon.

His wand slid into his palm.

"Disillusionment Charm."

He whispered.

The outline of his body began to blur, soon merging with the surrounding scenery.

In the late-night Slytherin Common Room, the lake water reflected a green light through the windows, and the shadows of the serpent carvings on the walls writhed.

The embers in the fireplace glowed with red dots.

Draco moved like a ghost, crossing through silently.

He walked to the stone wall at the exit.

In a breathy voice, he spoke the password: "Pure-blood."

The stone wall slid open.

The corridor outside was even colder, with water droplets hanging from the walls.

Draco followed the corridor, walking toward the main Castle building.

Just as he was about to step onto the Marble Staircaseleading to the Entrance Hall, a soft sound of chains dragging on the floor came from above.

Clink... clink... Draco's footsteps paused, and he held his breath.

The Bloody Baron.

The ghost of Slytherin.

He didn't move, simply hiding himself completely within the shadows of the stairs.

A translucent figure floated down, his face haggard and his eyes hollow.

The silver ghost blood on him was particularly striking.

The Baron floated past Draco, the two of them less than a meter apart.

A wave of icy air brushed against his skin.

Draco remained motionless.

Only when the sound of chains had completely vanished into the depths of the Dungeons did he let out a breath.

He continued upward.

The Entrance Hall was empty, with moonlight spilling across the floor like a layer of silver frost.

The figures in the portraits were all dozing off.

Draco's target was clear: the Astronomy Tower.

The highest point of Hogwarts, the most suitable place for a "chance encounter."

He avoided all the traps of the moving staircases, appearing more skilled than any freshman should be.

The spiral staircase leading to the Astronomy Tower was very narrow.

The higher he went, the stronger the wind became.

The night wind poured into the windows, fluttering the edges of his clothes.

"Ding."

In his mind, the System Panel flashed.

A simple Radar Map emerged, with a red dot flashing at the top of the tower.

[High-potential target detected.]

[Potential rating: 85.]

85 points.

Though not as high as Hermione's 90, it was still top-tier.

Who could it be?

Draco's curiosity was piqued.

He quickened his pace.

A few steps later, he stepped onto the top-floor terrace of the Astronomy Tower.

It was quite spacious here, with numerous telescopes pointing toward the night sky.

The moonlight was excellent.

A sound of suppressed sobbing drifted into his ears along with the wind.

Draco looked toward the source of the sound.

On the other side of the terrace, a girl was leaning against the railing with her back to him.

She wore Ravenclaw's blue-trimmed robes, her long dark hair fluttering in the wind.

Her shoulders were shaking slightly.

She was crying.

Draco was in no hurry to reveal himself.

Using the cover of the Disillusionment Charm, he silently circled to the side.

The moonlight illuminated her profile.

It was a very beautiful face; even the tear stains couldn't hide her delicate features.

A high bridge of the nose, and a very beautiful jawline.

More importantly, a silver Prefect Badge was pinned to her chest.

A Ravenclaw prefect.

A name flashed through Draco's mind.

Penelope Clearwater.

She had excellent grades and was very prestigious in Ravenclaw.

And... Draco remembered that in the original story, she eventually became Percy Weasley's girlfriend.

A weasley family person?

In the air where no one could see, the corners of Draco's mouth curled up.

What a coincidence.

It was the weasley family's corner again.

If he didn't try to poach her, he would be doing a disservice to his status as a transmigrator.

His gaze fell on Penelope's trembling back; it was the look of a hunter seeing a stray lamb.

A female prefect crying in the middle of the night due to pressure.

Draco took a deep breath of the cold wind atop the high tower.

He deactivated the Disillusionment Charm.

His figure shifted from void to solid within the shadows.

He straightened his collar, ensuring his posture was perfect.

Then, he took a step forward.

"Tap."

The sole of his leather shoe clicked against the stone floor.

Penelope stiffened all over and whipped her head around.

Tear stains still clung to her face, feeling icy cold.

Her hand had already gripped the wand at her waist, the tip instinctively rising.

The newcomer wasn't Filch, nor was it some trouble-seeking Slytherin.

Under the moonlight, a boy stood there.

A first-year student.

His platinum-blond hair shimmered with a cold light, and his well-tailored black casual clothes made his figure look straight and upright.

He was very handsome, but in those grey-blue eyes, there was none of the peace that should belong to this age.

Draco looked at her raised wand, completely unconcerned.

He walked over.

His footsteps were neither fast nor slow, each step landing on Penelope's nervous heartbeat.

Her throat felt tight; her prefect's authority and words of reprimand were stuck in her mouth, unable to produce a single word.

The boy came to a halt two steps away from her.

He didn't speak, but simply took something out of his jacket pocket.

It was a silk handkerchief.

Under the moonlight, the texture of that handkerchief was amazingly fine, with a cursive "M" emblem embroidered in silver thread in the corner.

He held the handkerchief out.

Penelope was completely stunned.

A junior caught out at night doesn't offer comfort or an apology, but instead hands a handkerchief to a crying prefect?

"You..."

Her voice was incredibly raspy.

"The wind is very strong tonight."

Draco spoke, his voice a bit deeper than that of his peers.

He didn't look at her, but instead looked up at the night sky.

"The stars have been blown dim."

Only after saying this did he turn his gaze back to her face, his eyes landing on her tear stains.

"Getting dust in your eyes from the wind can be very uncomfortable."

This plain sentence, however, made Penelope's cheeks burn.

He had given her a way out.

Her hands were not obeying her.

Especially in her most pathetic moment, this sudden bit of dignity was something she couldn't resist.

Penelope reached out, her fingertips touching the silky fabric.

The handkerchief was cool, but the fingers holding it were warm.

She took it quickly and wiped her face haphazardly a few times.

The fabric had a crisp scent of vanilla mixed with some kind of woody cologne; it smelled very good.

A sense of shame mixed with that scent made her face even hotter.

"Thank you," she said softly, not daring to look at him.

"Now, tell me your name and house, freshman."

She tried hard to regain her status as a prefect.

"Draco Malfoy," he stated his name, his tone flat, "Slytherin."

Slytherin.

Penelope's body instinctively tensed up, and her fingertips gripping the handkerchief tightened.

"I couldn't sleep, so I came up to look at the stars," Dracoexplained. "I didn't expect to disturb you, senior."

His reason was impeccable.

"And what about you, Senior Clearwater?" he asked back.

Penelope's heart skipped a beat.

He knew her name.

"How do you..."

"At the opening feast, when Dumbledore introduced the prefects," Draco said. "I have a good memory."

Impeccable.

All of Penelope's defenses seemed so laughable before this elegant and clever junior.

He was right; she indeed had troubles.

The responsibilities of a prefect, the pressure of the O.W.L.s, and maintaining an excellent and calm facade day after day.

These things left her breathless.

Only at the top of the tower in the middle of the night could she shed her disguise.

But today, her most vulnerable side had been seen completely by a Slytherin first-year.

Penelope deflated, leaning her back against the cold stone railing.

"It's nothing, just some academic pressure," she said vaguely.

Draco did not press further.

He walked to her side and, mimicking her, leaned against the railing beside her.

The distance between the two was instantly narrowed to within an arm's reach.

Penelope could smell the scent on him more clearly.

She felt completely uneasy, her shoulders stiff.

How did a first-year dare to be so close to a fifth-year prefect?

Wasn't he afraid of having points deducted?

Draco, of course, was not afraid.

He even turned his head, his gaze landing on her profile.

The night wind blew a few stray hairs near her ear.

"My father said that pressure is an inevitable byproduct of pursuing excellence."

His voice was very clear in the wind, delivered directly into her ear.

"Only mediocre people have no troubles."

Penelope's heart was hit hard.

This sentence was more useful than any comfort.

She was just about to put back on her airs and say some standard lines like "we've broken school rules."

But Draco suddenly turned his head to face her directly.

Under the moonlight, those grey-blue eyes were amazingly bright, looking straight into the depths of her own.

That gaze was no longer calm, but carried a sharpness that saw through everything.

"In this school, excellent people are always lonely."

He paused, his voice dropping even lower, carrying a hint of allure.

"Aren't they?"

Chapter 5: The prefect's Dignity Crumbles Under the Moonlight

All her disguises, all her pride, all her grievances.

At this moment, they were completely shattered by this sentence.

Loneliness.

Yes, it was loneliness.

As a Ravenclaw prefect, she had many friends around her, but no one could truly understand her pressure.

Her classmates only saw the badge on her chest and her excellent grades, but they didn't see the effort she put in behind the scenes to maintain it all.

She couldn't show weakness in front of others, couldn't complain.

Because she was Penelope Clearwater, a role model for everyone.

This feeling was like dancing while wearing a heavy mask.

The dance steps must be elegant, the expression must be a smile, even if her feet were bleeding from being pricked by glass shards.

Now, this mask was easily removed by a first-year Juniorwho had been in school for less than a week.

He saw through her.

Penelope's heart pounded violently, and an unprecedented emotion surged up.

There was the solace of being understood, the shame of having her secrets exposed, and a trace of inexplicable palpitation.

She tried to regain the initiative, using her status as a prefect to hide her loss of composure.

"Malfoy, you..."

She cleared her throat, trying to make her voice sound more authoritative.

"We are both seriously violating school rules now. As a prefect, I must..."

"Must hand us both over to Filch?"

Draco chuckled, interrupting her.

His laughter was low and playful, exceptionally clear in the night wind.

"Senior Clearwater, you seem to have mistaken one thing."

He took a small step forward, bringing the two of them closer.

Close enough for Penelope to see his silver-gray eyelashes and his pupils reflecting the moonlight.

"Right now, standing at the top of this tower isn't just a First-year Freshman out past Curfew."

"There is also a Ravenclaw prefect, weeping alone during Curfew."

Draco's voice was very low, like a lover's whisper, but the content made Penelope's face turn pale.

There was no malice in his tone.

He was simply stating a fact.

Yes, she was here too.

If things were exposed, a freshman out at night would at most be given detention.

But if a prefect knowingly broke the law and had an emotional breakdown outside, her authority would vanish completely if word got out.

Dumbledore might even take back her prefect badge.

"You... are you threatening me?" Penelope's voice trembled slightly.

"No, Senior."

Draco shook his head, the curve of his lips just right.

"I am inviting you to become my accomplice."

Accomplice.

The word made Penelope's heart skip a beat.

It carried a forbidden and dangerous allure.

"We now share a common secret," Draco continued, weaving a trap with his magnetic voice.

"And secrets are the fastest shortcut to bringing two people closer."

He looked at Penelope's panicked eyes, knowing the timing was about right.

He changed his tone, no longer aggressive, but instead carrying a sense of admiration and a request for guidance.

"To be honest, I have always admired someone as outstanding as you, Senior."

"I heard your Charms grades are the best in the year, and your Transfiguration is equally excellent."

"As for me, although I am very passionate about magic, I am still just a layman in many aspects."

He bowed slightly, performing impeccable aristocratic etiquette.

"It would be my honor to receive guidance from such an outstanding Senior."

These words were spoken flawlessly.

It both praised the other party and lowered his own stance, satisfying a Senior student's vanity.

More importantly, he cleverly transformed the relationship between the two into'seeker and mentor'.

Penelope was completely flustered.

Her brain was bombarded by this series of verbal attacks, making it impossible to think normally.

Threatening, showing goodwill, closing the distance, and then humble consultation... this first-year Slytherin's mind was terrifyingly mature.

The rhythm was completely under his control.

Just then, a gust of night wind blew, stronger than before.

The wind messed up Penelope's long hair, a few strands brushing across her cheeks and obscuring her vision.

She instinctively reached up to tidy it.

But one hand was faster than hers.

Draco raised his hand, his slender fingers reaching the side of her face, naturally helping her tuck that stray lock of hair behind her ear.

This action crossed the normal social safety distance.

His fingertips touched her earlobe ever so slightly.

Very light, very cool.

That slight touch made Penelope's body tense up.

She could feel her ears burning.

She should have moved away.

Reason told her she should step back immediately.

But her body wouldn't listen, freezing in place, allowing the boy's fingers to linger by her ear.

Time slowed down at this moment.

[System Prompt: Target character Penelope Clearwater, Affection Level unlocked.]

[Current Status: Curious (20/100).]

[Detected that the target is in a period of psychological vulnerability; Conquest difficulty temporarily reduced by 30%.]

Draco's fingertips lightly brushed over her earlobe before he slowly withdrew his hand.

He pretended as if nothing had happened and continued the previous topic.

"For example, a perfect 'Protego'—I can never quite get the rhythm of the incantation right."

The atmosphere became somewhat charming at this moment, with an indescribable ambiguity.

Penelope's heart was beating like a drum, and the temperature of her cheeks was terrifyingly high.

She just wanted to say something to break this awkwardness.

Suddenly!

"Meow—"

A sharp and familiar cat's cry came from the direction of the stairs!

This sound was a nightmare for all Hogwarts students who enjoyed wandering at night.

Madam Norris!

Filch's cat!

Penelope's face instantly lost all color.

Immediately following was a heavy, shuffling sound of footsteps, accompanied by Filch's hoarse and unpleasant whisper, drifting up from below.

"My dear, do you smell that?"

"It's students... the smell of those filthy little brats..."

The footsteps were getting closer and closer!

The Astronomy Tower was a dead end!

There was nowhere to escape!

Penelope instinctively reached out and grabbed the only thing around her that could provide a sense of security.

That was Draco's sleeve.

She gripped it tightly, the cold sweat in her palm soaking the fabric.

Chapter 6: Filch is Here, Quick, Hide in My Arms

To be caught by Filch, and with a first-year Slytherinjunior at that, on top of the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night... she didn't dare imagine what The Daily Prophet would write tomorrow.

Just as she was panicking enough to scream, her wrist suddenly tightened.

"This way!"

Draco's voice was kept very low, without a trace of panic.

His reaction was startlingly fast.

Draco grabbed Penelope and half-dragged, half-pulled her toward a corner of the Observation Deck.

There was a pile of discarded telescopes and star charts there, covered by a heavy, deep blue velvet curtain.

He lifted the curtain, pushed Penelope inside, and slipped in after her.

The curtain fell.

Cutting off the moonlight.

The space was extremely narrow, filled with clutter, leaving only a small crack.

The two of them were originally squeezed together chest-to-back.

But Draco turned around at the last moment.

The posture became face-to-face.

Penelope's back was pressed hard against the stone wall.

In front of her was his warm and firm chest.

The sound of fabric rubbing together was exceptionally clear at this moment.

His heartbeat was steady and powerful, thumping against her heart through the layers of cloth, again and again.

As for her own heart, it had already turned into a mess of chaos.

The scent of vanilla in his breath, mixed with the warm air, sprayed all over her face.

Too close.

Penelope had lived for fifteen years and had never been this close to any member of the opposite sex.

Her brain began to grow dizzy due to lack of oxygen and tension.

Outside the curtain, Filch's footsteps stepped onto the platform.

"I know you're here, brats."

His raspy voice was laced with malice.

"Come out, don't make me do it myself."

Madam Norris's meow sounded even closer, right outside the curtain.

Penelope's body trembled even more violently.

She felt like she would cry out in the next second.

At that moment, a dry palm covered her mouth.

It was Draco's hand.

His palm was large, almost covering half of her face.

The warmth from his palm and the pleasant scent of cologne on him strangely relaxed her tense nerves a little.

"Don't make a sound."

Draco's lips were almost pressed against her ear.

When he spoke, the vibration of his chest was clearly transmitted to her body.

The hot air brushed over her earlobe and neck, triggering a wave of fine shivers.

Penelope felt weak all over.

Her legs were also soft, and she could barely stand.

She subconsciously reached out her hands and grabbed the clothes at his waist haphazardly to avoid sliding to the floor.

Her palms were pressed against his waist, and through the thin fabric, she could feel the firm lines of muscle underneath.

The thrill of being hunted, the physical contact—a surge of heat rushed through her entire body.

In the darkness, all senses were stripped away and amplified.

His breathing.

Her heartbeat.

The sound of blood rushing through her veins.

Their gazes met in the darkness.

Although she couldn't see his expression clearly, Penelope could feel Draco's gaze locked firmly onto her.

Under this gaze, she felt a wave of inescapable embarrassment.

She lowered her eyes in distress, not daring to meet his gaze, her long eyelashes trembling uneasily.

Time passed minute by minute.

Filch's footsteps paced back and forth outside, his mouth muttering curses.

Suddenly, a corner of the curtain was pried open by something.

A beam of pale moonlight leaked in.

The light shone right on Penelope's face, which was filled with terror and embarrassment.

It was Filch's cane!

He was about to lift the curtain!

Penelope's breath hitched.

It's over.

Just as she was certain everything was finished, a huge force came over her.

Draco suddenly pressed her entire being into his embrace.

His arm wrapped around her shoulder, and his other hand pressed the back of her head, burying her face firmly in the crook of his neck.

At the same time, he used his tall frame and wide black robes to completely cover her in shadow.

The tip of Penelope's nose hit his hard collarbone.

Her nasal cavity was filled with the clean and pleasant scent on him.

She could feel that he had held his breath.

The whole world seemed to consist only of their intertwined heartbeats.

The tip of Filch's cane held up the curtain, pausing in the air for a few seconds.

Madam Norris suddenly gave a sharp "meow" toward the other side, as if she had discovered a mouse in the corner.

"Oh, my sweet, did you find something?"

Filch's attention was immediately drawn away.

He cursed and let go of the curtain, withdrawing his cane.

"Damn rats, one day I'll soak you all in formalin!"

The sound of footsteps, curses, and cat meows moved away toward the stairs.

The sound disappeared completely.

The crisis was averted.

In the small space, there was a deathly silence.

Penelope's tense nerves suddenly relaxed, and her whole body went limp uncontrollably in Draco's arms.

The relief of surviving, mixed with the extreme tension and shame from just now, made her mind go blank.

She should have pushed him away immediately.

But she didn't.

Draco didn't let go of her immediately either.

He still maintained that posture of completely enveloping her in his arms.

In the darkness, he lowered his head, his lips moving close to her ear.

The warm breath sprayed onto her earlobe again.

"Violets."

His voice was very soft, with a bit of raspiness, like a feather lightly brushing across her eardrum.

"It smells good."

Penelope's whole body shuddered.

Her ears were her most sensitive spot.

Being spoken to like this with him so close, she felt half of her body go numb.

"I..."

Finally, she gently pushed Draco away.

A bit of distance opened up between them, and the cold air rushed back in.

But the feeling of being closely pressed together just now, that warm breath, was like a brand, deeply engraved in her senses.

Penelope's cheeks were startlingly hot.

This sudden relaxation after extreme tension made her feel an indescribable emotion toward the boy who had saved her.

A mix of gratitude and a hint of... dependence.

Why was her heart still beating so fast? Filch was already gone.

Was it because she was too nervous just now?

Or was it because of him?

This ridiculous thought made her heart tremble.

Draco took a step back, stepping out of that narrow shadow and standing under the moonlight once more.

He reached out to smooth the non-existent wrinkles on his robes, every movement restoring his innate elegance.

The moonlight outlined his platinum blonde hair and cold profile.

The man who had been full of aggression in the darkness just now seemed like an illusion to her.

"We're in luck, Senior."

He spoke with a smile, his tone as relaxed as if nothing had happened.

Penelope followed him out but didn't dare to look into Draco's eyes, only hurriedly tidying her hair and clothes.

Everything tonight had been too much of a shock for her.

"We... we have to get back quickly." Her voice was still a bit shaky.

"Of course," Draco nodded, "but before that, we need to reach a consensus."

He gazed at Penelope, his grey-blue eyes appearing exceptionally serious under the moonlight.

"Everything that happened tonight stays between us."

"I, Draco Malfoy, will keep the secret of Senior Penelope Clearwater crying at the Astronomy Tower late at night and almost being caught by Filch."

His words made Penelope's body stiffen.

"In exchange..." The corner of Draco's lips curled into an inscrutable cold smile.

"I hope Senior can do me a small favor in Ravenclaw in the future."

"What favor?" Penelope asked warily.

"Don't be nervous, it's nothing bad," Draco reassured her.

"I'm just interested in some obscure ancient books and knowledge, and the Ravenclaw common room has the richest collection of books."

"I hope Senior can keep an eye out or help me borrow some special books when I need them."

This request sounded impeccable.

Asking for help from a Ravenclaw senior known for her wisdom was perfectly normal for a "studious" Slytherin.

Penelope hesitated.

Her reason sharply warned her to stay away from Malfoy, away from all Slytherins.

But emotionally, she owed him a favor, a huge favor.

Moreover, they now shared a common secret.

She had no room to refuse at all.

"Okay."

Ultimately, she nodded and agreed to this "transaction."

[System Prompt: Night mission 'Late Night Exploration' completed.]

[Mission Evaluation: Perfect.]

[Rewards issued: +200 points, mastery of the skill 'Non-verbal Spells'.]

[Target Penelope Clearwater, Bond +15, Current Status: Dependent (35/100).]

"Then, it's a pleasure working with you, Senior." He reached out his hand.

Penelope hesitated for a moment before shaking it.

His palm was dry and warm; he gave a light squeeze and then let go, polite yet distant.

"I... I'm leaving first."

Penelope felt like her face was still burning.

She didn't dare stay a second longer, turning and running toward the stairs in a panic.

Draco stood where he was, watching her fleeing figure, the smile on his lips deepening.

His gaze fell to the ground.

Under the moonlight, a shiny little object was lying there quietly.

He walked over and bent down to pick it up.

It was a silver hairpin, set with a small sapphire—the color of Ravenclaw.

It must have fallen off when Penelope was in a panic just now.

Draco held the hairpin up to his eyes, then slowly moved it to his lips, the metal lightly touching them.

It still carried the scent of her hair, mixed with that faint violet fragrance.

He tucked the hairpin into the inner pocket of his robes, close to his chest.

"First informant, settled."

He whispered to himself, then turned, his figure merging once more into the shadows of the Castle.

Chapter 7: A Woman's Sixth Sense Is Outrageously Accurate

The next morning, Hogwarts Great Hall.

The ceiling was clear, with white clouds drifting by.

Thousands of candles floated in the air, casting their light upon the four long tables.

Owls swooped down, delivering packages and letters.

Draco Malfoy appeared at the Slytherin table, causing a bit of a stir.

He had been out wandering until midnight last night, yet he showed no sign of fatigue now.

His brand-new school robes were pressed flat, and his platinum-blonde hair was impeccable.

He took his seat elegantly.

Goyle and Crabbe immediately sat down to his left and right, like two guardian statues.

"Good morning, Draco."

A sweet, dainty voice called out.

Pansy Parkinson sat down right next to him, practically pressing against him.

She had specifically worn a green headband with silver trim today, clearly intended to catch his attention.

"Good morning, Pansy."

Draco picked up his silver cutlery and slowly cut into his fried egg.

He took a sip of Pumpkin Juice, his gaze inconspicuously sweeping across the Great Hall.

His eyes lingered for half a second on the Ravenclawtable.

Penelope Clearwater was looking down, poking at a sausage on her plate with a fork, clearly distracted.

There were faint dark circles under her eyes; she hadn't slept well last night.

Perhaps sensing his gaze, she subconsciously looked up.

Their eyes met in mid-air.

The corners of Draco's lips curled slightly as he raised his glass of Pumpkin Juice toward her in a distant greeting.

Penelope's face instantly flushed red.

Like a startled rabbit, she quickly averted her gaze and buried her head, pretending to focus intently on that sausage.

The reddened tips of her ears, however, betrayed her inner turmoil.

This silent interaction was understood only by the two of them.

But this scene was captured by someone else.

Pansy Parkinson.

A woman's intuition is sometimes more sensitive than any detection spell.

She followed Draco's line of sight and saw Penelope's unnaturally red face.

A Ravenclaw girl prefect.

Pansy's eyes narrowed instantly, like a cat guarding its food, her whole body on alert.

Alarm bells rang loudly in her head.

Draco... was looking at another woman?

And that woman even blushed!

Jealousy and a sense of crisis gripped her heart.

"Draco, what are you looking at?"

Her voice carried a hint of sourness, and her lips pouted slightly.

Draco withdrew his gaze, his expression as calm as ever.

He forked a piece of bacon with crispy edges and elegantly placed it onto Pansy's plate.

"Try this; the bacon is good today."

Only after doing this did he turn his head to look into Pansy's eyes, his tone gentle.

"Your headband is very pretty today, Pansy."

"Silver and green—it really suits your eyes."

A compliment, a piece of bacon.

Simple, effective.

Pansy was instantly soothed.

"Re... Really?"

She touched her headband, her cheeks flushing.

"Of course," Draco said in a tone that brooked no doubt.

Pansy immediately cast her previous suspicions aside.

She lowered her head and took small bites of the bacon Draco had given her; even the food tasted sweeter.

Draco still cares about me the most.

She thought happily.

But a seed of doubt had been planted, after all.

She decided she would have to pay more attention to that Ravenclaw named Penelope Clearwater from now on.

Draco took everything in, his heart undisturbed.

Pansy was his 'gatekeeper' in Slytherin; keeping her appeased was a necessary measure.

His gaze drifted in another direction.

The Gryffindor table.

Hermione Granger was sandwiched between Ron and Harry.

She held a book, but she couldn't take in a single word; her eyes kept involuntarily drifting toward Slytherin.

When she saw Draco giving Pansy bacon and talking in low tones, her eyes visibly dimmed.

The fingers gripping her book tightened subconsciously.

She wanted to go over and say hello, to ask him if he had slept well last night.

But then she glanced at Ron beside her.

Ron's mouth was stuffed with food, and he was spraying crumbs as he animatedly discussed Quidditch with Harry, his table manners crude.

Then she looked back at the platinum-blonde boy in the distance, for whom even dining seemed like an artistic performance.

The stark contrast made Hermione feel, for the first time, a sense of out-of-place irritation with her surroundings.

Draco noticed Hermione's complex gaze.

Good.

Jealousy is a catalyst.

A sense of distance and crisis makes the prey walk into the trap faster.

He wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and stood up.

"I'm finished eating."

He instructed Goyle and Crabbe: "You two take your time; I'm going to the Potion Class classroom to preview."

Pansy stood up immediately: "I'll go with you!"

Draco did not refuse.

He knew that this morning was a double Potion Class for Slytherin and Gryffindor.

A good show was about to be staged on Snape's turf.

He needed a loyal spectator and a perfect backdrop.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were the best candidates... The corridor leading to the dungeon classroom was cold and damp.

Draco walked at the front, his pace neither hurried nor slow.

Pansy Parkinson followed closely at his side, sharing new gossip from the pure-blood circles in a low voice.

The two hulking figures of Goyle and Crabbe followed behind, one on each side, carrying Draco's brand-new dragon-hide trimmed Potion kit.

Several upper-year Slytherin girls passed by, taking the initiative to greet him.

"Good morning, Malfoy."

"Draco, your new robes really suit you."

Draco only gave a slight nod, a perfectly measured smile on his lips—neither too close nor impolite.

His name had been spreading through Slytherin since the day of the Sorting.

No one would overlook a first-year who dared to declare his ambition under the Sorting Hat.

Near the corner by the Potion Class classroom, Dracostopped.

Not far away, Hermione Granger was clutching a stack of books, walking unsteadily.

The pile of books was stacked higher than the top of her head, completely blocking her view.

"Magical Drafts and Potions."

"One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi."

Draco recognized those thick tomes.

This Gryffindor miss know-it-all had practically emptied the relevant section of the Library for Snape's class.

She wanted to help her two friends.

But where were her friends?

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were running ahead, waving their arms and discussing something heatedly.

"...As long as Flint is sent off, we can win!" Ron's voice was loud.

"But the nimbus 2001 is too fast," Harry said, looking a bit worried.

Neither of them looked back.

The girl who carried the 'wisdom' for them was left far behind.

Draco's eyes turned cold.

What a bunch of idiots.

Guarding a treasure yet treating it like a stone.

He gave Goyle a look.

Goyle and Crabbe immediately stopped, their massive bodies like two walls, tacitly blocking the corridor behind them.

Pansy was stunned for a moment, but seeing Draco's expression, she smartly kept her mouth shut.

Draco stepped forward alone.

His hawthorn wand slipped into his hand.

A silent Levitation Charm had already taken shape.

The stack of books in Hermione's arms suddenly lightened, and she stumbled forward a step due to inertia.

"Ah!"

She gave a startled cry and hurriedly steadied herself, her arms still in a lifting posture.

Where were the books?

She turned around and saw the figure that had kept her heart uneasy all morning.

Draco Malfoy.

He had stood behind her at some point, his wand already put away, a faint smile on his face.

The stack of books was floating quietly by his side.

"Need some help, Miss Granger?"

Chapter 8: Confrontation at the Dungeon Entrance, Potion Class Prelude

Hermione's cheeks heated up instantly.

"I... I'm fine, Malfoy," she said, her voice a bit stuttery.

Draco didn't respond to her polite refusal.

He walked over to her side and stood shoulder to shoulder with her.

The levitating stack of books automatically followed beside them.

He turned his head slightly and said in a volume only she could hear:

"Allowing a lady to carry a heavy load alone is hardly the act of a gentleman."

His gaze fell upon those thick books, his tone carrying a hint of appreciation.

"Especially when it is the weight of wisdom."

She subconsciously looked back.

Harry and Ron were still up ahead, gesturing wildly as they talked, completely unaware that she had fallen behind.

A slight sting pricked at her heart.

She turned her head again to look at the boy beside her.

Elegant, considerate.

More importantly, he understood her and appreciated the wisdom she took such pride in.

The invisible scales in Hermione's heart tilted completely.

"Thank you, Draco."

She spoke very softly, using his name for the first time.

Her cheeks burned even hotter, and she quickly lowered her head, staring at the tips of her shoes.

An angry roar tore through the atmosphere of the moment.

"Hermione!"

Ron Weasley had finally realized someone was missing.

He turned his head and saw Hermione standing side by side with Draco.

The freckles on his face turned bright red instantly; like a wild cat whose territory had been invaded, he charged straight over.

"What are you doing!"

Ron grabbed Hermione and pulled her behind him, using his body to separate the two.

He glared death at Draco, his eyes full of hostility.

"Stay away from her! You filthy son of a Death Eater!"

Pansy's expression changed, and she stepped forward, her wand half-drawn.

"Weasley, you pauper, how dare you speak to Draco like that!"

Draco raised a hand, stopping her.

He reached out and unhurriedly brushed away non-existent dust from his cuff.

Only then did he lift his eyelids and glance at Ron.

"Weasley, your voice is as loud as your appetite."

"Unfortunately, your brain is likely as empty as your wallet."

"Pfft."

Pansy couldn't help but laugh.

Several surrounding Slytherins followed with low chuckles.

Ron's face turned the color of a pig's liver.

"You..." He was so angry he could only wave his fists, unable to get a single word out.

Draco stopped looking at him, his gaze moving past him to land on Hermione.

A hint of regret showed in his eyes.

"Miss Granger, it seems your friends do not appreciate your diligence."

His voice slowed, carrying a soothing undertone.

"Wisdom, it seems, truly has no value to some people."

After saying that, he gave a gentle wave of his hand toward the stack of levitating books.

The Levitation Charm was released.

The books fell lightly and neatly back into Hermione's arms.

Hermione caught the books, her body swaying slightly.

She looked at the boy before her who maintained his grace even while arguing, then at her friend beside her who could only turn red-faced and thick-necked.

An indescribable feeling welled up in her heart.

"Let's go."

Draco said no more, turning to lead Pansy and the others into the classroom.

"Damn Malfoy!"

Ron cursed under his breath at his back, not daring to raise his volume again.

Harry walked over and patted Ron's shoulder, his brow furrowed.

Malfoy was very off today; every word he spoke accurately stabbed at one's sore spots.

"Hermione, are you okay? Don't mind him," Harrycomforted her.

Hermione shook her head, said nothing, and walked into the classroom carrying her books.

Her mood was terrible.

Inside the classroom, Draco had already chosen a seat.

Front row, dead center, directly beneath Professor Snape's podium.

The focus of the entire room.

Only the very top students would dare to sit in this spot.

He spoke to no one, already beginning to prepare for class.

A silver knife.

Boomslang skin.

Moonstone powder.

He took these items out one by one, arranging them meticulously on the desk.

He even wiped the knife carefully with a velvet cloth, the blade reflecting the dim light of the Dungeons.

No one knew better than Draco what kind of student Snape appreciated.

Rigorous, serious, and holding respect for Potions.

Harry and Ron walked in with dark expressions.

Not wanting to be near Draco, they sat directly in a dark corner in the back row of the classroom.

Harry felt uneasy the moment he sat down.

The Dungeons were damp and cold, smelling of a mixture of medicinal ingredients and Formalin.

Animal specimens preserved in glass jars along the walls stared straight at him with cloudy eyes, making his stomach churn.

Ron was still angry about what had just happened.

"Just you wait, Professor Snape will definitely sort him out! No one gets to steal the spotlight in Potion Class!"

Draco heard Ron's muttering, and the corner of his lip twitched slightly.

He knew exactly what was going to happen next, of course.

Snape would use a series of questions to publicly humiliate Harry Potter; it was his annual tradition.

In his memory, Potter knew nothing, and Granger raising her hand until it nearly fell off was useless; the scene had been extremely ugly.

But today, it would be different.

He wanted everyone, especially Hermione Granger, to see with their own eyes who the true genius was.

Just then—

Bang!

The heavy oak door of the classroom was thrown open, slamming hard against the stone wall.

The buzzing in the room came to a dead stop.

A tall black figure walked in, the hem of his robes dragging across the floor with a rustling sound.

Severus Snape.

He walked straight to the podium, his black eyes scanning the room; all the students lowered their heads, not daring to meet his gaze.

When his gaze fell on Draco in the first row, he saw the tidy desk.

Snape's eyes paused for a moment, and something seemed to soften slightly.

Immediately after, his gaze moved past everyone and fixed dead onto the boy with messy black hair in the back row.

Harry Potter.

Draco could feel Pansy's breathing grow heavy beside him from tension and excitement.

He turned his head, his gaze crossing the classroom to accurately find Hermione.

The brown-haired girl was still looking down, silently reciting the contents of her textbook.

She was completely unaware that the 'cannon' on the podium had already locked its target.

Draco adjusted his sitting position at his leisure, leaning back slightly.

The show was about to begin.

Chapter 9 Hermione's Grievance, Draco's Opportunity

Snape picked up the roll call book.

Those hollow black eyes swept across the classroom, finally stopping on the platinum-blonde boy in the first row.

Draco sat up straight, his hands folded on the desk.

The silver knife and scales in front of him were placed at a perfect angle.

The tight muscles in Snape's cheeks relaxed for a barely perceptible moment.

And it was only for a moment.

He began the roll call, his voice low and deep.

"Hannah Abbott."

"Hermione Granger."

...The names slipped by one by one.

Until that name.

"Harry Potter."

Snape stopped.

The entire Dungeons fell silent.

He raised his head, his gaze passing over Draco's shoulder and staring straight at the back row.

"Harry Potter."

Snape said it again, his tone so soft it made one's scalp tingle.

"Our new—celebrity."

Draco heard suppressed snickers from Goyle and Crabbebehind him.

He didn't look back, his fingers lightly brushing over the smooth handle of his wand.

In the back row, Harry shrank his neck, feeling like he was being watched by a snake.

Ron kicked him under the table, trying to give him some courage.

It was useless.

Snape finished the roll call and closed the book.

He leaned over the lectern with both hands, his upper body leaning forward, and a shadow loomed over the first row.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of Potion-making."

His voice wasn't loud, yet it pierced everyone's ears.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving here; many of you will hardly believe this is magic."

When he said "foolish," his gaze drifted pointedly toward the back.

The corners of Draco's mouth curled up.

Professor Snape's opening remarks were as classic as ever.

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death."

Snape paused, his eyes becoming dangerous.

"As long as you aren't the dunderheads I usually have to teach."

No one in the class dared to make a sound.

Hermione sat up even straighter.

She shifted forward, sitting on the very edge of her chair.

Those brown eyes were startlingly bright, filled with longing.

She wanted to prove she wasn't a dunderhead.

She wanted this strict Professor to see her worth.

Unfortunately, Snape didn't even look at her.

"Potter!"

A sudden sharp cry startled Harry.

"What would I get if I added Powdered root of asphodelto an Infusion of wormwood?"

Harry gaped.

Asphodel?

Wormwood?

He instinctively looked at Ron.

Ron was even more bewildered than he was.

Hermione's arm shot up with a "whoosh."

She held it straight up, leaning halfway across the desk to get it even higher.

Snape ignored her completely.

He just stared at Harry, waiting to see savior make a fool of himself.

"I don't know, sir," Harry whispered.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut—fame clearly isn't everything."

Draco chuckled.

The sound wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the silent classroom.

Harry's face instantly turned red.

Snape didn't intend to let him off.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a Bezoar?"

Hermione's hand went even higher, waving anxiously in the air, her fingertips even trembling.

Pick me!

Pick me!

I know it!

She screamed in her heart.

Snape's gaze remained fixed on Harry.

Harry felt like everyone's eyes had turned into needles, pricking him.

Especially the back of Draco Malfoy's platinum-blonde head, which was utterly detestable.

"I don't know, sir," Harry's voice was even softer.

"I suppose you haven't opened a book before coming here, have you, Potter?" Snape's voice was full of malice.

Harry forced himself to look up and stare straight into those cold black eyes.

He had looked through his books and seen Bezoars, but he couldn't remember.

"Potter, what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

Hermione stood up abruptly.

Her hand was raised, almost touching the damp, cold ceiling of the Dungeons; her small face was flushed red, her eyes full of urgency.

If only the Professor would look at her.

Just once.

"I don't know," Harry said, getting angry. "But I think Hermione knows, why don't you ask her?"

A ripple of low laughter came from the Slytherin table.

Goyle's flab shook with laughter.

Snape snapped his head around and gave Hermione a cold look.

"Sit down."

Two words, thrown like stones.

Hermione was like one struck by lightning.

Slowly, bit by bit, she lowered her hand.

Humiliated, ignored.

She sat back down dejectedly, bowed her head, and twisted her hands together tightly.

Her eyes quickly turned red.

Why?

She clearly knew all the answers.

She worked so hard.

Why wouldn't he give her even one chance to answer?

"Potter, for your cheek, ten points from Gryffindor."

Snape turned back; tormenting Harry had put him in a much better mood.

"As for the answers to those questions..."

His gaze landed on the first row.

"Draco, you tell him."

Draco stood up unhurriedly.

He turned slightly; his voice wasn't loud, but he made sure the whole class could hear.

"Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping Potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death."

"A Bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons."

"As for Monkshood and Wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of Aconite."

After finishing, he didn't sit down immediately.

Instead, he turned to look at Harry in the back row and curled his lip.

His lips moved silently.

Two words.

"Idiot."

Harry understood.

Ron understood too, and was so angry he nearly jumped up, but Harry held him down firmly.

"Very good," Snape nodded with satisfaction. "Five points to Slytherin."

"For Mr. Malfoy's perfect answer."

He swept his gaze over the class again, his expression darkening.

"Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging of Parchment and Quills throughout the classroom.

Draco sat back down.

His peripheral vision had been locked onto that brown-haired figure.

Hermione was hunched over her desk, taking notes vigorously.

The tip of her Quill made a heavy scratching sound on the Parchment.

A tear fell, landing right on the word "Aconite."

Smudging a small patch of ink.

[Ding! Detected a crack in target Hermione Granger's psychological defense.]

[Current emotions: Grievance, self-doubt, extreme longing for recognition.]

[Suggestion: The host should seize the opportunity and take advantage of her vulnerability.]

Chapter 10: Weasley, You're Out of the Team

Snape closed the register, his obsidian-like eyes sweeping over the room, his voice somber.

"Now, brew a potion to cure boils."

"In pairs. The instructions are on the blackboard."

"Follow them exactly."

"I do not wish to see anyone blow up my classroom."

As soon as he finished speaking, the noise of dragging chairs and tables echoed through the classroom.

The students began frantically searching for partners.

Ron Weasley was the first to jump up.

He was simmering with rage after being ganged up on by Draco and Snape.

Grabbing his rusty old cauldron, he rushed toward Hermione's seat.

"Hermione! We're a pair!"

He shouted loudly, with a tone that brooked no argument.

Hermione, who was studying the recipe on the blackboard, flinched at his sudden shout.

Before she could respond, a tall figure blocked Ron's path.

It was Goyle.

His massive frame was like a wall, barring Ron's way.

"Thud!"

Ron crashed headlong into Goyle's solid chest.

The cauldron in his hand nearly slipped, spilling dried nettles and snake fangs all over the floor.

"What are you doing! Get out of the way!"

Ron's face instantly turned beet red as he reached out to shove Goyle.

Goyle didn't budge an inch.

Crabbe also closed in from the other side, completely separating Ron from Hermione's desk.

The commotion in the classroom died down as everyone's gaze gathered on them.

At that moment, a cool, indifferent voice rang out.

"Weasley."

Draco Malfoy stood up.

He didn't pick up his cauldron; instead, he toyed with a pair of silver scales as he walked toward Hermione's desk with composed steps.

With every step he took, Ron's expression grew more unsightly.

Draco stopped by Hermione's desk and looked down at Ron, his eyes filled with contempt.

"I don't want my Potion blown to bits by a Weasley's stupidity."

His voice wasn't loud, yet it carried throughout the Dungeons.

"After all, not everyone has the courage to brew medicine in a rusty pot."

"Pfft—"

Pansy Parkinson was the first to laugh out loud, and the other Slytherins followed suit with their mockery.

"You!"

Ron trembled with rage, feeling like a clown being humiliated in public.

"Malfoy! Don't go too far!"

"Silence!"

Snape's reprimand came from the podium.

He had noticed the situation long ago but had waited until Draco had the upper hand to speak.

His gaze scraped over Ron.

"Weasley, get back to your seat."

"Do not hinder an honor student's research."

Snape's tone was full of sarcasm and favoritism.

"But Professor! I was with Hermione first..." Ron argued unwillingly.

"One point from Gryffindor for Mr. Weasley's backtalk."

Snape interrupted him coldly.

"If you want it to be five points, keep standing there."

Under Snape's gaze, Ron's anger was instantly extinguished.

His face was flushed, his lips trembled, and he didn't dare say another word.

He gave Draco a venomous glare, then glanced at Hermione, who hadn't spoken up for him at all.

Clutching his pathetic cauldron, he retreated dejectedly to a corner in the back row.

Harry patted him on the shoulder, at a loss for words.

In the Dungeons, the laughter subsided.

Draco elegantly pulled out the chair next to Hermioneand sat down.

He laid out his set of brand-new Potion-making tools on the desk one by one.

A silver knife, crystal vials, brass scales.

They stood in sharp contrast to the junk Ron had dropped on the floor.

Hermione sat stiffly, her body subconsciously shrinking toward the other side.

Her mind was in a state of chaos.

Partnering with Draco Malfoy?

She was at a loss, not daring to look at the boy's face beside her.

"Don't be so nervous, Granger."

Draco didn't look at her, his attention entirely on his tools as he wiped the scale pans with a velvet cloth and spoke in a low voice.

"I merely follow a single principle."

He paused and picked up a piece of dried nettle.

"The most excellent people deserve only the best partners."

These words hit Hermione like a faint electric current.

Her tense body instinctively relaxed a little.

That silent resistance ceased.

She stole a glance at Draco.

Beneath his platinum-blond hair was a focused and cool side profile.

His fingers holding the silver knife were long and powerful, every movement carrying a pleasing sense of rhythm.

It was completely different from Ron's clumsiness or Harry's absent-mindedness.

This scene drew the attention of the entire class.

Pansy's face was written with shock, unable to understand why their prince would choose a Gryffindor'mudblood'.

The Gryffindor students showed wariness and concern.

They felt Malfoy must be plotting some scheme.

In the back row, Harry kept craning his neck, feeling an indescribable awkwardness in his heart.

He was worried about Hermione while being distracted by his own ingredients.

With a "hiss," his knife slipped across his finger, drawing a small bead of blood.

At their table, Draco had already begun processing the dried nettles.

His movements were as smooth as flowing water.

He used the knife to precisely cut the leaves, then used a pestle to grind them into a uniform powder.

Hermione watched, somewhat dazed.

She had always considered herself unbeatable in theory, but in practice, the boy before her was clearly more skilled.

She was unconsciously drawn into his rhythm and began to cooperate.

By the time Draco finished grinding the nettle powder, Hermione had already placed two horned slugs on the cutting board.

As Draco swept the powder into the cauldron, Hermionehanded over the sliced slugs at just the right moment.

Throughout the process, the two didn't exchange a single word.

Yet, they completed a perfect handover of ingredients.

A sense of smoothness and tacit understanding she had never felt before rose in her heart.

Perhaps... being in a group with him wasn't so bad?

The moment this thought appeared, she startled herself.

Just then, a commotion came from the other side of the classroom.

Neville Longbottom.

The poor boy was holding a jar of porcupine quills, tremblingly preparing to pour them into his cauldron.

His partner, Seamus Finnigan, looked at him in horror, wanting to stop him but being a step too late.

Draco caught this scene out of the corner of his eye.

A faint smile flickered across his lips.

The hand holding the pestle paused slightly, while his other hand, hidden under the table, quietly slid the hawthorn wand into his palm.

"Don't! Neville! It's not time yet!"

Seamus Finnigan's scream pierced the silence of the Dungeons.

It was too late.

Neville Longbottom's hand shook, and the entire jar of porcupine quills tumbled into the bubbling cauldron.

"Hiss—"

The cauldron made a dangerous sound.

The Potion turned from light green to deep green, boiling violently and emitting thick smoke.

"Get back!" someone shouted.

Neville stared blankly at his cauldron, paralyzed with fear.

The next second.

"Boom!"

A loud explosion.

Neville's cauldron exploded.

Pewter shards flew everywhere, and scalding green Potion splashed in all directions.

The classroom was instantly thrown into chaos.

Screams and the sound of falling chairs blended into a mess.

Hermione was leaning down, using the side of her silver knife to crush snake fangs, preparing the next set of materials.

She hadn't anticipated this disaster.

A wave of scalding green liquid was already flying toward her, heading straight for her face.

Hermione's pupils dilated, her mind went blank, and her body froze in place, forgetting to dodge.

It's over.

This was the only thought left in her mind.

At that moment, a great force came from her side.

Draco Malfoy's reaction was incredibly fast.

He moved the instant the explosion occurred.

He turned, his wand sliding from his sleeve, and gave it a forward flick.

"Protego!"

A non-verbal Shield Charm took shape.

A nearly invisible barrier precisely blocked the path in front of him and Hermione.

"Sizzle—"

The scalding Potion hit the barrier, emitting white smoke as it was deflected, splashing onto the surrounding walls and empty desks.

Hermione was completely unharmed.

Draco didn't stop there.

To ensure absolute safety, and also for... a better opportunity.

While casting the spell, he reached out with his left arm and grabbed Hermione's waist.

Applying force with his arm, he pulled her entire body firmly into his embrace.

Hermione felt her waist tighten, and her world spun as she crashed into a hard, warm chest.

Draco's tall frame and wide black robes shielded her completely under his protection.

His other hand protected the back of her head.

"Thud! Clang!"

A few stray drops of Potion and cauldron shards hit Draco's back, making muffled sounds.

Hermione's cheek was pressed tightly against Draco's chest.

Through the fabric, she could feel the steady, powerful heartbeat beneath his ribcage.

Thump, thump.

Her own heart was beating so fast it felt like it would jump out of her throat.

Her nostrils were filled with the pleasant scent of Draco's cologne and old books.

At this moment, the chaos and screams of the outside world faded away.

Her world was left with only this moment of peace and the powerful heartbeat in her ear.

Her mind went completely blank because of this sudden turn of events and the physical closeness.

The classroom had already turned into a mess.

Students who weren't affected screamed as they dodged, while a few unlucky ones splashed with Potionimmediately broke out in pustules on their arms.

Neville Longbottom, at the center of the explosion, was the worst off.

He was soaked in green Potion, his skin rapidly covered in red, swollen boils as he lay on the ground moaning and groaning.

"Silence!"

Snape's roar drowned out all the noise.

He rushed over, waving his wand.

A Scouring Charm cleared the mess on the floor, while another spell made Neville levitate.

"Idiotic Longbottom! Another five points from Gryffindorfor your moronic behavior!"

Snape's face was as black as the bottom of a pot.

"Finnigan, take him to the hospital wing!"

"If Madam Pomfrey can't save your brainless partner, tell her to keep him as Potion ingredients!"

Seamus's face was pale as he hurriedly pushed the floating Neville, rushing out of the classroom as if escaping.

The chaos in the Dungeons was finally brought under control by Snape's iron fist.

In the midst of this chaos, Draco didn't immediately let go of the girl in his arms.

His palm was still firmly pressed against the robes at Hermione's waist.

He could feel the body in his arms trembling slightly.

He lowered his head, his lips nearly touching Hermione's bushy hair and her reddened ear.

In a magnetic, soothing voice that only she could hear, he whispered:

"Are you hurt, Granger?"

His warm breath brushed against her sensitive earlobe.

Hermione shuddered.

She snapped out of it, realizing what an embarrassing position she was in, clinging to Draco Malfoy's embrace.

Her cheeks instantly burned.

She shook her head hurriedly, pushing against his chest with both hands as she struggled to pull away.

Because her movements were too hurried, she nearly fell backward, but luckily Draco was quick to steady her.

"I... I'm fine, thank you."

She kept her head down, not daring to look into Draco's eyes, staring only at the tips of her shoes as she spoke in a voice that was barely audible.

In the back corner, Ron Weasley clenched his fists tightly.

He had witnessed the entire process of Draco holding Hermione.

Jealousy burned in his chest.

He was so angry he snapped the quill in his hand.

Harry had seen it too, his brow furrowed with complex emotions.

He was glad Hermione was okay, but seeing her so intimate with Malfoy made the awkwardness in his heart grow heavier.

[System Notification: Achieved 'Crisis Protection' with high-potential target Hermione Granger.]

[Physical contact effective, Bond +20. Current Status: Trust (50/100).]

[Detection: Host successfully subverted a key plot point, stealing the protagonist's 'hero saves the beauty' highlight moment.]

[Extra Reward: Points +300, 'Protego' skill proficiency increased to Proficient.]

The system's notification rang in Draco's mind.

The corner of his mouth curled into a satisfied arc.

After dealing with Neville, Snape turned around, his somber gaze scanning the class.

When his eyes landed on Draco and Hermione, they paused for a moment.

Draco didn't care; he looked at the crushed snake fangson the table and frowned slightly.

Under Snape's watch, Draco reached out and grabbed Hermione's hand, which was still holding the silver knife.