Ch: 24-30
Chapter 24: Pansy's Guilty Conscience
Upon hearing Draco's statement, 'I don't know the Engorgement Charm,' Pansy didn't waste a single thought pondering why he was refusing or whether his words were true.
Only one idea exploded in her mind, shaking her spirit like a thunderclap.
It was: He actually doesn't know it! A Malfoy, born into a top-tier pure-blood family of the magical world, steeped in magic since childhood, doesn't even know a basic charm like the Engorgement Charm!
This thought, like a wildly growing vine, instantly entangled Pansy's thoughts. The charming smugness that had surged earlier from Draco's praise was instantly cast aside.
Immediately after, a scalding, almost scalp-numbing sense of triumph roared from the depths of her heart to the crown of her head, instantly drowning out Pansy's minuscule shock.
She felt utterly delighted. The previous grievances of being 'forgotten' by Draco and the deliberately maintained arrogance now transformed into a crushing sense of superiority—so the Malfoy heir has weaknesses too, times when he's not as good as her!
Pansy clearly felt the corners of her mouth uncontrollably curling upwards. The glee in her eyes was almost overflowing, and she was nearly unable to stifle a shrill laugh.
She hurriedly raised her free hand, using her neatly trimmed, rounded fingernails to lightly cover her lips, barely managing to suppress the laughter threatening to burst from her throat.
Only, the triumph in her eyes was spreading wantonly, even tingeing the tips of her brows with a hint of brazen elation.
'Ohhhh—?' A long, drawn-out syllable finally slipped from Pansy's lips, carrying a teasing, playful tone, like a cat that has caught the scent of fish, staring intently at the 'prey' before her.
She even deliberately leaned in slightly, closing the distance between herself and Draco.
She lowered her voice and said,'So... the all-knowing, all-capable young master Malfoy also has times when he needs to open the textbook to the first page and learn a charm from scratch?'
The words were spoken softly enough that only the two of them could hear.
But the mockery within was undisguised, each word seeming to deliberately poke at Draco's 'weakness,' exuding a brazen air of petty triumph.
Draco instinctively took another half-step back, avoiding her overly close proximity, and reiterated, 'I never claimed to be all-knowing. Moreover, opening a textbook to learn is not without merit. Gradual progress is better than half-baked knowledge that leads to clumsy mistakes.'
Hearing this, Pansy raised an eyebrow slightly, and the corner of her mouth twitched. It wasn't a genuine smile but rather carried a hint of perfunctory disdain.
'That's a... novel way to put it. It's the first time I've heard you say something like this since I've known you.'
Recalling the Draco of old, who always looked down his nose, disdained to mention textbook learning, and would never admit to not knowing something, this change today, while she felt disdain, also stirred a faint, peculiar feeling within her.
'People change,' Draco said.
Pansy fell silent for a moment, ultimately unwilling to let go of her pride.
'You can 'change' however you like, find whatever excuses. The weekend competition won't change; it will still be held. Bubble Pods won't swell up nicely just because someone 'changed,' and the Engorgement Charm won't suddenly become easy just because someone doesn't know it.'
Draco watched her struggling to maintain her facade, a faint glimmer of amusement passing through his eyes, and slowly asked,'Since you are so certain, I presume you have long since mastered the Engorgement Charm?'
'Of course,' Pansy immediately replied, triumph surging once more.
'The incantation for the Engorgement Charm is 'En-gor-gi-o.' You have to pronounce the second syllable clearly and loudly, without the slightest slur.'
Her words even took on a 'bestowing a favor' quality, as if granting Draco a great honor.
'My father says many du—m—b—o—s—' She deliberately emphasized the word 'dumbos,' her gaze pointedly sweeping over Draco's eyes before quickly darting away, pretending it was just a casual remark.
'They mispronounce the incantation as 'En-gor-ji-o,' and then they can't make the Bubble Pods swell at all. Instead, they blow the pods to smithereens, getting pod mush splattered all over their faces. Utterly ridiculous.'
Pansy was deliberately showing off, while also veiling her mockery.
Draco, however, showed no sign of anger. He merely spoke calmly, his tone even:'Since you are already proficient, why not demonstrate it here? Let me see the proper casting, so I can learn a thing or two.'
These words caused Pansy's body to stiffen abruptly. She then turned around swiftly, her movements hurried and rigid, as if something had struck a nerve.
Her face instantly showed a mix of startled disbelief, the shame of being cornered, and a faint, hard-to-detect fluster.
Her narrow Phoenix Eyes were wide open, pupils even contracting slightly under the sudden pressure. Her fingers clenched unconsciously, and her breathing became somewhat rapid.
Now? Here? Demonstrate for him alone?
This thought exploded in Pansy's mind like a thunderclap, causing a momentary blankness, a chaotic mess.
Her earlier boasts of 'long since mastered,' 'flawless,' and 'able to blow Bubble Pods so big they can sunbathe' now flew back at her like a boomerang.
Had she truly mastered the Engorgement Charm?
She had merely heard her father mention a few key points about the incantation and tried it hastily a couple of times at home, never even successfully swelling a pod, let alone perfect control.
Her earlier display was simply to show off in front of Draco and persuade him to be her partner.
She never expected Draco to suddenly ask for a live demonstration, catching her completely off guard.
'He...re?' Pansy's voice involuntarily rose, even carrying a barely noticeable crack, clearly betraying her inner surprise and panic.
She quickly scanned her surroundings—the drawing room of Malfoy Manor was opulent and solemn. Gilded decorations, plush velvet sofas, classical oil paintings on the walls, everywhere exuded refinement and dignity, utterly unsuitable for practicing charms.
There was no familiar practice ground like at the Parkinson estate, no specially prepared Bubble Pods (ensured'stable swelling coefficient' by house-elves) that she was accustomed to using, and certainly no distracting audience like during the weekend competition.
If she failed here, it would be a public humiliation, a complete loss of face.
'What kind of joke is this, Malfoy!' Pansy tried to cover her fleeting panic with a louder, sharper tone, 'You think demonstrating a carefully prepared charm is as simple as waving your hand and saying 'Lumos'?'
'It requires suitable materials, a stable environment, and...' She suddenly faltered here, her mind racing, desperately searching for an excuse.
A moment later, Pansy managed to continue: '...and a formal atmosphere! It's certainly not something that can be casually demonstrated in a random corner like this!'
She spoke with righteous conviction, but her eyes couldn't hide their evasiveness. She dared not meet Draco's gaze, clearly guilty to the core.
Draco took in her embarrassment and panic, fully understanding that she hadn't truly learned the Engorgement Charm at all; her earlier display was merely a bluff.
But Draco had no intention of pressing this sore point further.
After all, being so aggressive would be crossing a line. Moreover, he never intended to participate in that competition and didn't want to get overly entangled with Pansy.
Chapter 25: Draco Agrees to Pansy
Draco noticed the poorly concealed guilt in Pansy's eyes but didn't make an issue of it. Instead, a composed, faint smile touched the corners of his mouth. "Pansy, you might consider this event as a 'contest between Parkinson and Malfoy.'"
"That's an excellent way to think about it. At least you've already grasped the essence of the matter. It was never merely a game of two children fiddling with bubble pods. What lies beneath is the implicit display of family honor and prestige."
Pausing briefly, Draco's tone took a sudden turn. The faint amusement in his eyes gradually faded, his gaze grew more profound, and his voice carried a new weight. "But precisely because of that, I believe I should not appear on the weekend garden competition grounds in the capacity of a 'contestant.'"
These words struck Pansy like a thunderbolt, jolting her. The forced arrogance and fluster she had maintained earlier completely vanished, replaced by sheer astonishment.
Pansy stared directly at Draco, her eyes filled with disbelief.
She had never imagined Draco would consider the matter from this angle, nor had she anticipated his refusal would be so reasoned and justified.
"Think it through carefully, Pansy," Draco said, slowing his pace to guide her thoughts patiently. "If I go, if we stand together before those bubble pods, no matter the final outcome—even if you perform the charm flawlessly and I'm all clumsy fingers and repeated mistakes..."
"...in the eyes of outsiders, such as the invited younger generation and elders from families like the Macmillans and the Burkes, it will ultimately just be the young master of House Malfoy and the young lady of the Parkinson family amusing themselves together."
"They might chat briefly about who won or lost, perhaps have a good laugh about it, then promptly file it away as amusing after-dinner gossip, forgotten within days. For you, and for the Parkinson Family, it holds no substantial benefit."
As he spoke, Draco rose and began to pace slowly around the drawing-room, dissecting the key points. "But what if I'm not present? What if you stand alone, under the gaze of all the guests, steadily casting the charm, inflating the bubble pods to perfection, fully showcasing the Parkinson Family's impeccable upbringing and innate magical talent—Pansy, guess what they'll talk about then?"
Draco didn't wait for her response, answering his own question without pause. "They will sincerely admire the outstanding results of Miss Parkinson's early magical education, praise your composed and graceful demeanor, and heatedly discuss how you single-handedly controlled the pace of the entire event, managing the scene with perfect precision."
"At that moment, all focus will be completely, purely on you, on the distinguished surname 'Parkinson.' Without the complication of being 'Malfoy's partner,' without the pointless comparison of 'competing with whom,' there will only be 'Miss Parkinson's exclusive showcase.' Such glory far outshines competing alongside me."
His words, layered and progressive, caused a shift in Pansy's expression. The shock in her eyes gradually receded, replaced by thoughtful contemplation.
Seeing this, Draco timely presented the strategy he had already devised. "As for my part..."
Pansy looked at Draco.
Draco also tilted his head slightly, looking back at Pansy. "I will ask my mother to prepare a modest gift in the name of House Malfoy and send it to the Parkinson residence in advance—perhaps a set of ancient yet highly collectible 'Annotations on Early Practical Transfiguration.'"
"This way, it maintains the goodwill between our families and lets others know that House Malfoy has always recognized the Parkinson family's magical upbringing. For you, it serves as another form of support."
"You..." Pansy stared blankly at Draco, repeating the word, a tumult of emotions swirling in her eyes—surprise, unwillingness, and a touch of resignation.
"You always have a way, Draco. No matter what, you can twist and turn things until they head in the direction you want."
There wasn't much genuine admiration in her words, more an acknowledgment born of defeat, tinged with a hint of weariness from dealing with Draco.
She was accustomed to being in control, yet repeatedly found her thoughts led by Draco, ultimately unable to refute him.
Pansy fell silent for a moment, as if giving up on argument entirely. Suddenly irritable, she complained with a touch of girlish petulance:
"Enough! Let's not talk about that boring competition and the Engorgement Charm anymore! To be honest, it's just a gimmick my mother concocted, merely an excuse for the adults to flatter each other and socialize."
"But since it's our family hosting, I don't want to stand on the competition grounds alone like a fool. At least when I'm with you, even if I roll my eyes, you know exactly at what or whom I'm rolling them, without needing lengthy explanations."
Seeing the poorly concealed dejection and disappointment on her face, Draco felt a slight softening in his heart.
Shaking his head helplessly, Draco's tone softened. "Alright, alright. I can't win against you. I'll accompany you. Are you satisfied now?"
These words fell like sweet rain on parched earth.
The tension on Pansy's face instantly deflated like a punctured balloon with a soft 'pfft,' all her anxiety and displeasure dissipating.
This emptiness was quickly filled by a swelling sense of triumph. Her eyes instantly brightened, her lips curled upward uncontrollably, and even the corners of her brows danced with gleeful delight.
"Hmph." Pansy let out a long, meaningful breath through her nose, her chin lifting even higher than before, her neck held straight, as if using this posture to confirm her ultimate victory.
"That's more like it. At least I didn't waste all this talk on you," Pansy said, her tone dripping with tsundere pride.
Having secured Draco's agreement, Pansy began issuing detailed instructions. "Remember, Saturday afternoon at two o'clock sharp, arrive at Parkinson Manor. Don't be a second late."
"Wear that silver-green morning robe, the one you wore at our family's last tea party. It suits your complexion perfectly. And don't wear that utterly stupid, smoke-spurting skull brooch. It's vulgar and beneath Malfoy dignity."
After a pause, Pansy continued with meticulous detail. "Once you arrive, don't bother with small talk with others. Come directly to the pavilion on the eastern side of the garden to find me."
"Most importantly, remember not to speak to that silly boy from the Macmillan family. He flits around people, his words sickeningly sweet. I hear his father is currently trying every trick to curry favor with yours. He's annoying; avoid getting entangled and inviting trouble."
Thinking for a moment, Pansy seemed to recall something and added, "As for the Engorgement Charm... forget it. I don't expect you to learn anything anyway."
She waved a hand dismissively. "You just need to stand beside me at the time and pretend to look somewhat interested."
"If... I mean, *if* Mr. Macmillan asks, just say you're still quietly sensing the magical fluctuations and haven't yet found the opportune moment to cast the charm."
By devising this face-saving excuse for Draco, Pansy aimed both to preserve her partner's dignity and to ensure her own showcase would proceed smoothly, uninterrupted by any mishaps.
"No problem," Draco replied, entirely unconcerned, though he had a certain understanding of Pansy's capabilities.
"See you then. Don't keep me waiting too long." With this final instruction, Pansy had arranged everything to her satisfaction.
Having said her piece, Pansy turned lightly on her heel. Her steps were brisk as she headed for the door, her skirt swaying slightly with the motion. She hummed a tune quite popular among pure-bloodfamilies and soon exited the drawing-room, her figure gradually disappearing down the garden path.
It was evident that Pansy was currently feeling immensely pleased with herself.
Draco watched her departing back, shaking his head with a helpless, faint smile.
When it came down to it, she was just a scheming little girl.
Agreeing to accompany her wasn't born of soft-heartedness on Draco's part. In truth, he had another layer of consideration hidden in his heart...
Chapter 26: Pansy is Draco's Most Loyal Protector
Draco agreed to meet Pansy, harboring his own calculations in his heart—nothing more than using her as a shield.
As the young lady of the Parkinson family, Pansy possessed delicate beauty and had always been close to Draco, giving her a certain presence within the pure-blood circles.
With Pansy by his side, those pure-blood girls who coveted the Malfoy family's status or sought to climb the social ladder, seeing her closeness with him and recognizing they couldn't match her standing or looks, naturally wouldn't dare to pester him recklessly, saving him from much unnecessary trouble.
As for whether such actions would give Pansy the mistaken impression that Draco favored her, to Draco, that was inconsequential.
Minor misunderstandings could always be resolved later; for now, seeking peace and quiet was the priority.
While dealing with Pansy earlier, Draco had noticed that the girl was stubborn and carried a bit of a young lady's willfulness. If he rejected her outright, she definitely wouldn't let it go and might even stir up a lot of trouble, which would be even more vexing.
Fortunately, Draco had already privately devised a plan. He would find an opportunity in the future to subtly guide her attention elsewhere, so he wouldn't be tied up with this matter for long.
Thinking of this, Draco temporarily set aside these trivial matters of youthful romance and turned his thoughts back to studying spells.
Earlier, he had been delayed by Goyle and Vincent, then spent considerable time dealing with Pansy. Unnoticed, the sun had risen high, and it was nearly noon. The time left for him to prepare was already limited.
Draco immediately summoned the system exchange interface, lightly swiped his finger, and began carefully filtering through the available spells.
Naturally, he prioritized the core content from the primary level of the *standard book of spells*. These foundational and practical spells were essential. He also exchanged for a few auxiliary spells that were highly likely to be useful at school, all necessary for daily study and classroom demands.
However, the earlier exchange for Apparition had already cost over a hundred luck value points, and subsequent minor expenditures had further drained it. Now, his luck value was nearly depleted, with only twenty points remaining.
Forget advanced magic; even slightly stronger intermediate spells were beyond reach. He could only gaze longingly at the more powerful magics in the shop, sighing inwardly with regret.
It seemed he needed to find more opportunities to earn luck value in the future. Only with ample points could he leverage the system's power to rapidly enhance his strength.
Suddenly, he remembered the Bubble-Pod Engorgement Charm competition Pansy had mentioned. This original plot point deviating from the source material—participating in it would surely yield a considerable amount of luck value.
As this thought flashed through his mind, Draco felt a surge of anticipation.
Time flew by, and Saturday arrived in the blink of an eye.
Draco kept his promise, arriving punctually at Parkinson Manor and heading straight for the Daisy Pavilion in the eastern part of the garden.
The pavilion was nestled deep within the greenery, surrounded by blooming daisies, their petals dewy and fragrance wafting. It was originally a serene and elegant spot, but now it was bustling with activity.
It had already become a gathering place for Young Wizards from Pure-blood families. They clustered in small groups, chatting and laughing incessantly, all scions of prestigious Pure-blood families in the wizarding world.
The moment he stepped into the area around the pavilion, a crisp system notification sounded in his mind: "Ding, original plot triggered. luck value increased by 20 points."
Draco understood. Just as he had anticipated, participating in this event earned him luck value. His points had now increased to forty. While still not abundant, it was better than nothing.
The Young Wizards inside and around the pavilion were chatting in twos and threes, their conversations mostly revolving around family matters and magical studies. The atmosphere was lively yet carried a certain reserve characteristic of pure-blood offspring.
Draco's gaze swept over the crowd and quickly spotted Pansy.
She was wearing an exquisite and ornate gown, its hem adorned with delicate silver threads that swayed gently in the breeze, accentuating her slender figure.
At that moment, Pansy was standing on tiptoe, looking around anxiously, her clear eyes filled with urgency, clearly searching for Draco.
When her gaze met Draco's, her narrow, phoenix-like eyes instantly lit up, sparkling with unconcealed delight, and her heart felt a wave of relief.
Pansy inwardly rejoiced: He came! He really came! My plan succeeded!
But this delight was fleeting. She quickly reined in her smile, deliberately straightened her posture with composure, and walked towards Draco with elegant steps.
Her skirt swayed lightly, carrying an air of natural haughtiness.
"You're here, Draco," Pansy said, stopping before him, her tone deliberately flat. "I thought you might be held up by something... more interesting and forget today's arrangement."
A smile curled at the corner of Draco's mouth. "How could I? How could I possibly disrespect an invitation from Miss Parkinson?"
Unexpectedly, as soon as Draco finished speaking, Millicent Bulstrode and others nearby immediately broke into exaggerated, ingratiating smiles and even started applauding.
Seeing this, the pride in Pansy's eyes grew. She lifted her chin slightly and gave a soft, smug hum. "You'd better remember that."
With that, Pansy raised a finger clad in a sheer glove and lightly tapped Draco's sleeve cuff, the gesture carrying a hint of covert intimacy while maintaining a young lady's propriety.
Then she turned to the Young Wizards present, declaring with deliberate emphasis, "Everyone here is watching today. Since you've given me this 'face,' you'd better perform well later and not disgrace the Malfoy family's dignity."
Draco shrugged helplessly, saying very casually, "I'll do my best."
With that, Draco stepped towards the interior of the pavilion.
Goyle and Vincent immediately straightened their backs, expressions solemn, following closely behind him like loyal guardians.
Pansy stayed right by Draco's side, her sharp gaze sweeping the surroundings as if asserting her sovereignty.
Draco's arrival instantly disrupted the original flow of conversation in the pavilion. Everyone's eyes converged on him, filled with curiosity and awe.
After Draco walked to a seat deep inside the pavilion and sat down, the surrounding Young Wizards gradually gathered around him, unconsciously centering their conversations on him.
The previously scattered crowd now gradually formed a circle with Draco at its core.
Pansy sat down beside Draco, turned her head to look at him, and asked with a hint of expectation in her eyes, "What do you think of my outfit today?"
"Very beautiful," Draco praised offhandedly.
"Oh? Just 'very beautiful'?" Pansy raised an eyebrow, then said with a mix of dissatisfaction and coquettishness:
"Is your vocabulary that limited? My mother said the weaving charm on the silver threads of this gown is crafted using ancient techniques modeled after medieval French witches' formalwear. It shimmers with a cold, moonlight-like glow as the light changes. It's exquisitely made."
Draco feigned sudden understanding, adding a touch of admiration as he said, "No wonder it's so outstanding. So there's such intricacy behind it. Truly exceptionally exquisite."
Hearing this, a satisfied smile appeared on Pansy's face. "At least you have some taste, Draco."
Draco sat quietly for a moment. The Young Wizards around him drew closer, likely all hoping to seize the chance to converse with him.
"I didn't expect you to participate in this competition too, Draco." At that moment, a steady voice came from behind Draco. Theodore Nott walked forward calmly, his posture upright and expression composed.
Draco turned to look at him and said with a smile, "Bored at home, thought it wouldn't hurt to come and have some fun. Just a diversion."
Theodore nodded slightly, speaking with a hint of resignation. "You're fortunate to be able to do as you please. I was forced to come by my father. He specifically instructed me to carefully 'assess the magical potential of each participant.'"
"Theodore." As soon as Theodore finished speaking, Pansy beside him immediately interjected with a tone laced with sarcasm and provocation: "From the sound of it, you seem to think this competition is some sort of... lowbrow entertainment?"
Her words were full of gunpowder smell, clearly displeased with Theodore's dismissive attitude towards the event and unwilling to let anyone belittle the activity she had meticulously prepared.
The atmosphere in the pavilion instantly became subtle. The previously lively chatter gradually died down.
Everyone's gaze focused on Pansy and Theodore, filled with curiosity to see the spectacle, yet no one dared to intervene easily, only watching quietly.
Chapter 27: A Battle of Words Between Women
Faced with Pansy's aggressive tone, Theodore was already accustomed to it.
His nature had always been steady and reserved. Having clashed with Pansy several times in the past, he had long since discerned her proud and competitive temperament and had gradually formulated a method to handle it.
Theodore's expression remained unchanged as he calmly explained, "Don't misunderstand; I'm not belittling this event. It's just that I haven't seen Draco in a long time. Knowing you invited him today, I made a point of coming early to have more time for casual conversation."
Instead of confronting her directly, Theodore deftly maneuvered the conversation, preserving his own dignity while slightly dulling her sharp edge.
Upon hearing this, Pansy's expression indeed softened, the mockery in her eyes fading a little. "It seems you can occasionally speak sense, Nott."
Then she turned to Draco, speaking with a hint of triumphant pride, "Did you hear that? Even Theodoresees that today's occasion is worth attending, far from mere ordinary amusement."
Draco curled a smile and smoothly agreed, "It seems great minds do think alike. Such a lively event is always worth a look."
This remark pleased Pansy without neglecting Theodore.
Hearing this, a touch of pleasure flickered in both their eyes, and the previously tense atmosphere in the pavilion dissipated somewhat.
Just then, a somewhat clumsy figure squeezed through the crowd and approached.
Draco looked over; it was Millicent Bulstrode, who had been clapping most enthusiastically earlier.
Her build was sturdy, her movements slightly awkward. With a simple, honest smile on her face, she moved close to Draco, speaking with great enthusiasm, "Draco, you look so handsome today. That silver-green morning robe makes you look even more dashing, clearly very refined."
Draco nodded politely in response, "Your outfit isn't bad either. The tailoring is neat; it looks very proper."
Hearing this, Pansy's gaze slowly shifted from Draco to Millicent, a flicker of barely perceptible disdain in her eyes.
"Millicent, you noticed Draco's robe too? Shows more discernment than usual; at least this trip wasn't wasted."
"However," she pivoted, turning to Draco as if to share a joke only they understood, "you're being far too polite. Everyone knows Mrs. Bulstrode has recently become obsessed with..."
Pansy's words trailed off, but Draco had already sensed trouble.
Pansy had always been sharp-tongued. Once she started dragging others' parents into it, it was mostly to wound and mock.
Unwilling to see Millicent publicly humiliated, Draco didn't let Pansy finish, forcefully interrupting and naturally diverting the topic. "Such well-fitting and proper clothes must have taken considerable thought to choose. Your mother must have helped you select them carefully. It's rare to have such good taste."
Millicent, completely unaware of the undercurrents just now, nodded with her simple smile. "Yes, yes. My mother always helps me with my clothes and appearance. She always says I don't choose well myself, afraid of disgracing the family."
Draco sighed inwardly, thinking to himself that this big, simple girl was truly naive.
Being thrust by her parents into this social arena of verbal duels among pure-blood youths, she probably often endures such veiled insults without even realizing it.
Seeing her so defenseless, Draco wanted to send her away quickly to avoid further mockery from Pansy, so he spoke up. "Alright, the match is about to start. You should hurry to the field to prepare, lest you get flustered later."
After scratching her head, Millicent still smiled with her simple honesty. "I'm just here to participate; winning or losing doesn't matter much. Having fun is good enough."
Vincent, seeing this from the side, quickly stepped forward to join the conversation. "My boss here has high hopes for you, specifically reminding you to prepare well. If he says go prepare, then hurry up and don't waste time."
Hearing this, a flash of pleasant surprise appeared in Millicent's eyes. "Really? Then I'd better prepare properly. I can't let Draco down."
With that, she cheerfully turned and awkwardly squeezed through the crowd, heading towards the field.
Draco watched her retreating figure and breathed a secret sigh of relief.
This big, simple girl, so sturdy in build, yet so naive in mind, without a shred of defensiveness, was truly somewhat exasperating.
Draco didn't hold any extra expectations for Pansy; he simply couldn't bear such public humiliation of others, especially someone as guileless as Millicent. It felt too harsh.
Seeing Draco actively send Millicent away, a flicker of surprise passed through Pansy's eyes, but she didn't say anything more.
Perhaps she simply didn't want to waste words on Millicent, so she reined in her sharpness for now.
In the following moments, the Young Wizards in the pavilion took turns stepping forward, either greeting warmly or conversing politely, all wanting to engage and get closer to Draco.
This scene truly made Draco appreciate the influence and prestige of the Malfoy family.
Even though the family currently only had him, Pure-blood families still flocked, eager to curry favor and build connections.
Facing these gestures of goodwill, Draco responded to each politely, maintaining the dignity of the Malfoy family without becoming overly familiar, always keeping an appropriate distance.
As the match was about to begin, another figure appeared, slowly approaching the pavilion.
It was a slender girl with delicate, beautiful features and a gentle demeanor, yet she carried an air of subtle, innate nobility.
Pansy saw her, a flash of sharpness crossing her eyes, then she took the initiative to step forward and speak first. "Daphne! I'm so glad you could make it. I wasn't sure if you'd be free today."
"What do you think of the garden arrangements this year? My mother specially hired a top florist from Italy to design these white rose arches, aiming to complement the summer atmosphere perfectly. She put a lot of thought into it."
Daphne stopped and offered a flawless, impeccably polite smile.
Then her gaze swept gently over the white rose arches Pansy had mentioned, and she remarked appreciatively, "Indeed, Pansy, the arrangements are truly exquisite and thoughtful. The white roses are particularly charming, creating a serene and pleasant ambiance."
Daphne paused briefly, her eyes lingering on the blooming white roses, examining them closely before continuing. "Especially these white roses. If I'm not mistaken, they appear to be the exceptionally rare 'Luna Goddess' variety, correct?"
"Look at the subtle, pearlescent sheen on the petals—so delicate and warm. That specific quality only develops with long-term cultivation in the unique microclimates of certain Tuscan valleys. Truly remarkable."
Pansy smiled with evident pride.
Daphne then added, "The Italian florist you engaged today must be a disciple of the renowned Maestro Mario Bettini from Florence, I presume? My mother attempted to commission Signor Bettini for a charity event last year, but his schedule was fully booked until next spring. Quite a coveted artist."
These words, seemingly complimentary, subtly showcased knowledge and connections, highlighting the roses' rarity and the florist's prestige, quietly matching Pansy's earlier display.
Hearing this, Pansy's smile remained, but a glint of wariness appeared in her eyes as she promptly replied, "Your eye is as sharp as ever, Daphne. You recognized them immediately."
"These are indeed 'Luna Goddess' roses. Mother waited months for this specific shipment, even postponing a garden party to ensure their arrival. As for the florist..."
She deliberately paused here, lowering her gaze slightly as if recalling a minor detail.
After formulating her words, Pansy said, "Whether his surname is Bettini, I can't quite recall. I only vaguely remember Mother mentioning that his family has served... hmm, certain discreet European aristocratic patrons for generations. His craftsmanship is exceptional, not something just anyone can secure."
Pansy's words subtly elevated the florist's background, implying service to unnamed European nobility to counter the prestige of the Bettini name, quietly vying with Daphne.
The exchange between the two appeared courteous on the surface, yet every line carried veiled barbs, each trying to gain the upper hand in this unspoken contest of prestige.
Draco, standing by and listening to this subtle duel, felt it was an unwelcome complication.
The rivalry among pure-blood girls was always this covert yet intense, neither willing to yield an inch.
"The match is about to start, ladies." Though 'ladies' was a thought Draco kept strictly to himself.
If he actually said it out loud, given the stringent etiquette expected in pure-blood circles, he'd likely be verbally shredded by both, leaving him with no dignity whatsoever.
Fortunately, Pansy's focus was now mostly on the upcoming match.
Sensing Draco's subtle hint, her gaze shifted almost instinctively from Daphne to Draco, then quickly scanned the field and the judges' area, her expression gradually turning serious.
The previous subtle mockery, deliberate provocation, and veiled boasting hidden in her eyes receded like a tide.
Replacing it was a more polished, more 'public-appropriate' focus and poise, as if she had instantly switched into 'competitor' mode.
Pansy took a discreet, deep breath, her already straight posture stiffening further, her demeanor becoming more composed.
A bit less playful, a bit more earnest.
She looked at Daphne and said quickly, "You're right. Time is short; the match is about to begin."
Then she turned her full attention to Draco. Her expression was now completely different from the intimate, teasing look they shared privately, speaking with gravity. "Draco, we should head to the field to prepare now."
"Remember, stand to my left, about two steps back. Keep a pleasant smile, but don't overdo it and look foolish. Maintain decorum."
Draco nodded slightly. "Understood. I know the expectations."
Daphne, observing all this, very naturally took a half-step back, clearing the path for them. "Of course, don't let me delay the competition. Best of luck today, Pansy. I look forward to seeing your performance."
With that, she turned to Draco. Her smile remained gentle, but her eyes held a glimmer of understanding.
It was the look of someone who had clearly discerned the nuanced dynamic between Draco and Pansy. She then added, "Draco, I won't keep you any longer. I'll be watching with interest."
After speaking, she turned with graceful composure and walked away unhurriedly, likely towards the spectator area.
Draco and Pansy then proceeded without further delay towards the competition field.
Sunlight bathed the scene, warm and bright. The area around the field was already crowded with spectators, the air buzzing with lively chatter and excitement. A magical event centered on Bubble Podwas about to commence.
Chapter 28: The Pinnacle of Slacking Off
Before long, the Young Wizards in the pavilion dispersed, each heading towards the competition grounds. Some were adjusting their attire, others were discussing tactics in hushed tones, and the air gradually filled with the tension and liveliness of the impending event.
Draco also followed closely beside Pansy, walking leisurely towards the central competition grounds in the garden.
Goyle and Vincent still stood ramrod straight, following at a not-too-close, not-too-far distance, appearing ready for orders at any moment.
The venue for this Bubble-Pod Engorgement Charm Competition was chosen to be the flattest, most open, and best-viewed lawn in the very center of the garden, with no obstructions on any side.
This allowed the contestants to freely cast their magic while also enabling all guests present to clearly observe the competition—an extremely well-considered arrangement.
Along the edge of the lawn, a row of exquisite white wicker chairs was neatly arranged, each accompanied by an off-white parasol embroidered with delicate floral patterns.
Under the sunlight, the parasols shimmered with a soft glow, providing shade from the heat while adding an elegant touch.
Most adult guests were seated in the back rows of chairs or on the slightly elevated terraces.
This allowed them to overlook the entire competition, taking in every contestant's performance, while maintaining a 'proper' distance from the field—close enough to observe but not so close as to compromise their dignity.
From afar, it looked as if they were admiring a vivid, dynamic painting.
Spectators occasionally exchanged a few words in low voices, their tone composed, fully displaying the reserve and propriety of Pure-blood families.
Meanwhile, the young guests who were not participating mostly gathered in the front-row seats or designated areas at the edge of the field, closer to the contestants.
Their faces were also filled with anticipation and curiosity, frequently whispering among themselves and discussing the upcoming competition, the atmosphere growing increasingly lively.
For Draco, such a display competition among Pure-blood families held little interest for participation.
Naturally, he was determined to slack off the entire time. He only needed to stand properly beside Pansy, playing the role of a 'qualified partner' well enough by not causing trouble.
But while some slacked off, others were exceptionally serious. The young contestants on the field had already taken their positions, their expressions intensely focused.
Clearly, they were all making their final preparations for the competition, none willing to lose face for their family in front of everyone.
In the center of the lawn, separate areas had long been demarcated for each contestant.
Each area contained an ornately decorated worktable, covered with a light golden velvet tablecloth edged with exquisite lace.
On the worktables were neatly arranged several plump, round, primary-grade Bubble Pods.
The surface of the pods shimmered with a faint green luster and had already been enchanted with a Stabilizing Charm to prevent accidental explosions during spellcasting that could harm others.
The judges' table was set directly in front of the competition field, where several adult Wizards in formal attire sat.
With a clear announcement from the judge, the competition officially commenced.
The young contestants on the field immediately sprang into action. The previously noisy grounds quieted significantly, leaving only the sounds of incantations and the subtle hum of magical fluctuations.
Pansy stood beside her worktable, posture erect, her back ramrod straight. She maintained a reserved yet slightly focused, faint smile on her face.
This demeanor preserved a maiden's charm while conveying the seriousness of a contestant—a perfect display of poise.
After the competition began, Pansy took a deep breath, her gaze intently fixed on the Bubble Pod on her worktable. Then, her red lips parted slightly, and she recited the syllables of the Engorgement Charm with textbook precision: "En-gor-gi-o!"
The incantation was steady, each syllable clear and loud, without the slightest deviation.
Simultaneously, her wrist lifted gently, the movement agile and stable. Her wand aimed at the Bubble Pod as magical power flowed out smoothly, like fine silk, without a hint of hesitation or obstruction.
Even while fully immersed in spellcasting, Pansy did not entirely ignore Draco's presence.
She adjusted her stance in the most discreet manner, ensuring Draco remained at the edge of her peripheral vision—close enough for reassurance but not so close as to distract from her casting.
Draco stood two steps behind and to her left, taking in her movements and expression. A smile curled at the corner of his mouth as he smoothly offered praise: "Quite proficient, Pansy. Precise movements, and such steady magical output. It seems you've put in considerable effort."
Upon hearing this, the smile on Pansy's lips deepened slightly, but she did not turn to look at him.
Her hands never paused as she replied in a voice only the two of them could hear: "Thanks to a certain somewhat-qualified partner who isn't causing trouble on the side, allowing me to focus on casting."
As her words fell, her spellcasting action was already complete.
Under the influence of magic, the Bubble Pod on the worktable slowly began to swell, its speed uniform, its form growing increasingly plump and round. Its surface gradually took on a healthy, pearlescent sheen, crystal clear and exceptionally pleasing to the eye.
After expanding to the perfect size, the pod hovered steadily above the worktable for a moment before gently descending to rest on the velvet tablecloth. In terms of size, shape, and luster, it was a 'template of perfection,' without a single flaw to be found.
Throughout the entire spellcasting process, Pansy's expression remained calm and detached, almost impassive.
Only at the precise moment the charm was perfectly completed did she turn her head slightly, offering a highly restrained smile toward Draco and the judges' table.
It displayed confidence without sacrificing grace and propriety—perfectly measured.
The Wizards on the judges' table nodded one after another, their faces showing approval.
The parents in the back rows also exchanged opinions in low voices, their words full of acknowledgment.
"The Parkinson family's education is truly impeccable. To possess such skill and poise at such a young age—she is bound to have a bright future."
"Indeed. Precise spellcasting and excellent demeanor. Clearly, she has been meticulously nurtured, far surpassing many children her age."
Words of admiration were endless. Pansy's mother sat on the terrace, her face full of pride and gratification, her smile particularly radiant.
In stark contrast to Pansy's pursuit of ultimate perfection, the performance of the Greengrass Sisterscarried a different charm.
They clearly weren't fixated on maximizing the pod's expansion. Instead, they emphasized elegance and ease during the spellcasting process, brimming with a maiden's liveliness and playfulness.
Astoria stood before her worktable, a faint smile on her face, her eyes clear and bright.
Her spellcasting movements, though slightly clumsy, were exceptionally sincere and earnest. Her incantation was recited softly and gently.
Under her magical influence, the Bubble Pod did not grow into a standard round shape. Instead, it gradually swelled into a cute, slightly asymmetrical heart shape—plump, endearing, and uniquely charming.
After completing the charm, Astoria looked at her creation, first pausing in surprise, then unable to hold back a laugh.
When she laughed, her eyes curved into crescents. Her smile was pure, innocent, and playful, without a trace of affectation.
This effortless, unique creativity formed a sharp contrast to Pansy's tense 'perfection,' instantly capturing the attention of many guests present.
Many wore kindly smiles, and applause followed—more genuine and enthusiastic than the applause Pansy received.
Seeing this, the parents began whispering among themselves, their tones full of fondness: "The Greengrass family's younger daughter is truly delightful. So clever and ingenious, yet so innocent and adorable. Utterly charming."
"Yes. Not pursuing rigid perfection but having her own creativity. This unpretentious demeanor is more endearing than Deliberate maintained composure. Her peers must enjoy being around her too."
Both elders and peers praised Astoria's performance unreservedly, and along with it, their impression of the Greengrass family grew more favorable.
This caused Pansy to frown slightly.
Compared to Pansy's grace and Astoria's playfulness, Theodore Nott's performance appeared exceptionally distinctive.
The moment he began, he stirred a slight, awe-filled commotion among the parents, and the discussions grew more solemn.
Theodore stood before his worktable, posture erect. His expression remained extremely calm from start to finish, even carrying a hint of icy indifference, as if the competition before him was merely an insignificant triviality.
His spellcasting method was uniquely precise—almost harsh—and calm to the point of being Almost ruthless.
There were no superfluous movements, not a hint of hesitation. His incantation was concise and crisp, his magical output precise to the extreme, without the slightest waste.
Under his control, the Bubble Pod expanded at an extremely uniform rate.
The final pod, whether in size, roundness, or surface luster, seemed as if measured with a ruler—flawlessly standard yet utterly devoid of emotional color.
After completing the charm, Theodore didn't even glance down at his result, as if already certain he wouldn't err.
Then, he turned and strode directly off the field, his steps steady, his expression still detached. Throughout, he didn't exchange a word with anyone, nor did he care for others' gazes—aloof and aloof.
Such extreme magical control and calm attitude left the parents present quite astonished.
Whispering among themselves, their tones were full of awe: "The Nott child is indeed extraordinary. To possess such Amazing magical control ability at this age is truly frightening. His future achievements will undoubtedly be limitless."
"Yes. Expressionless the entire time, Calm as a child. His temperament is far too steady, though it lacks a child's vibrancy and seems overly aloof and indifferent."
Even while holding him in awe, some felt slightly uncomfortable with his excessively indifferentattitude. Yet, no one failed to acknowledge his skill.
Compared to these outstanding performers, the scion of the Macmillan Family appeared somewhat lacking.
He stood before his worktable, his face clearly showing nervousness. His hands trembled slightly, and his gaze was somewhat unfocused—clearly too concerned about the outcome and under excessive pressure.
When reciting the incantation, his voice wavered slightly from overexertion, the syllables somewhat slurred.
His spellcasting wrist trembled uncontrollably, causing his magical output to become unstable.
Consequently, the expansion process of the Bubble Pod on his worktable was quite tumultuous—sometimes fast, sometimes slow—and its shape gradually grew somewhat lopsided.
In the end, the pod The expansion was barely completed., overall It's acceptable. However, one side was noticeably flatter, and its luster was far inferior to the results of Pansy and Theodore.
Compared to Astoria's creativity, it held no Highlights.
The moment he finished casting, he let out a long sigh of relief, his face full of A look of relief from a heavy burden.
He then eagerly turned to look toward where his parents were seated, his eyes full of Anticipation and anxiety, Longing for parental approval.
Seeing this, his parents immediately took the lead in applauding, their tones full of encouragement and consolation.
Out of courtesy, the surrounding guests also offered polite applause, though it was sparse and far less enthusiastic than for the previous contestants.
Other parents exchanged glances among themselves, their expressions carrying a sense that more effort was still needed.
"The Macmillan child has some skill, but his mindset is too poor—too nervous, not performing to his full potential. He needs more training in the future to temper his disposition."
"Indeed. With such a mindset, he might falter in more important situations. He still requires proper cultivation."
If the previous contestants' performances were either stunning, adorable, or awe-inspiring,
then Goyle and Vincent were the 'comic relief' of the entire competition, responsible for adding a touch of joy to this somewhat serious event.
The two stood before their respective worktables, faces full of serious expressions.
Yet, their hand movements were exceptionally clumsy. The way they waved their wands resembled brandishing heavy maces more than casting spells—exaggerated, wide swings with no semblance of technique, causing the surrounding guests to He couldn't help but shake his head inwardly..
After spellcasting began, their performance became even more laughable.
When Goyle recited the incantation, his voice was slurred and unclear, his magical output chaotic and disorderly. The Bubble Pod on his worktable either remained completely motionless, unresponsive no matter how he waved his wand,
or, under the Impact of magic, suddenly Rapid expansion before 'poofing' open with a burst, spraying harmless yet The particularly comical colored juice everywhere, splattering his face and clothes, leaving him utterly In a sorry state.
Vincent's performance wasn't much better. His incantation was Reciting it correctly with difficulty,
but his magical control was completely out of control. The Bubble Pod didn't grow into a normal shape; instead, it twisted and deformed, It eventually swelled up into the shape of a bloated goblin..
The pod lay crooked on the worktable, ugly and funny.
After finishing their spells, both stood frozen in place, faces full of Confusion and bewilderment. Staring at their 'creations,' they momentarily didn't know what to do. That A dazed and silly look instantly hit the funny bone of everyone present.
The surrounding adult guests, constrained by their status, could only suppress their laughter, emitting stifled snickers.
The young guests in the front rows, however, held no such reservations. They burst into loud, clear laughter that echoed across the entire lawn, instantly pushing the atmosphere of the competition grounds to its peak.
Goyle and Vincent's parents sat in the back rows, their faces full of Awkward expression, yet they had to force composure, pretending nothing was wrong as they sipped their tea.
After the competition ended, the surrounding guests only offered symbolic applause—sparse and accompanied more by barely contained laughter.
This highly anticipated Bubble-Pod Engorgement Charm Competition The curtain finally fell. in the Funny and hilarious performance of Goyle and Vincent.
Chapter 29: Pansy's Stubbornness
Compared to everyone else's performance, Draco was practically slacking off the entire time.
Throughout the entire competition, he stood two steps behind Pansy and to her left, posture erect, wearing a proper, faint smile.
He never stepped forward to cause trouble, nor did he speak excessively, playing the role of a 'qualified partner' who was just coasting along.
Yet, even so, none of the guests or Young Wizards present dared utter a single word of gossip about the young master of the Malfoy family's actions.
The power and prestige of the House of Malfoy were plain to see. Even if Draco was just standing quietly, he carried an unquestionable aura of authority that no one dared to provoke lightly.
As the competition concluded, the award unsurprisingly went to Pansy Parkinson.
Her spellcasting performance, which could be called a textbook example of perfection, far surpassed the other contestants in terms of spell accuracy, magical control, and bearing. It was a well-deserved victory.
As the judge announced the result, the surrounding parents immediately swarmed over, gathering around Pansy and the Parkinson couple. A chorus of flattering praises and compliments rose and fell, ceaseless.
"Mrs. Parkinson, you truly have raised your daughter well. For Miss Parkinson to possess such exquisite magical skill at her age, she is sure to be a rising star in the wizarding world in the future!"
"Mr. Parkinson, congratulations on your daughter's victory. Such an outstanding performance truly brings honor to the Parkinson Family!"
"Miss Parkinson is not only powerful in magic but also so dignified and proper in her bearing. She is truly a rare, fine young lady!"
The parents spoke one after another, their tones full of genuine admiration and deliberate flattery.
When their gazes fell upon Pansy, they were also filled with recognition and appreciation.
Hearing this, Mr. Parkinson put on a modest expression and waved his hand dismissively, saying, "It's just the child messing around and getting lucky," yet the pride at the corners of his eyes and brows was unmistakable, and the slight upward curve of his lips betrayed the pride and satisfaction in his heart.
Mrs. Parkinson, on the other hand, responded to everyone's congratulations with a beaming smile, her gaze towards Pansy full of doting affection and pride.
Among the crowd, someone specifically mentioned Draco and Pansy's coordination: "Young Master Malfoy and Miss Parkinson are truly a well-matched pair. One is steady and proper, the other skilled and proficient. Such a pairing is truly a match made in heaven!"
Hearing these words, two faint blushes instantly colored Pansy's cheeks.
But she very quickly reined in this loss of composure, suppressing that direct joy and transforming it into an appropriate measure of shyness and honor.
It neither lost a young girl's charm nor violated the etiquette norms of a pure-blood family.
Pansy very naturally turned slightly sideways, as if unintentionally, taking half a step closer to Draco, quietly shortening the physical distance between them.
Then, her red lips parted slightly, and she responded to everyone's praise in a clear, sweet voice: "You are too kind. This honor is inseparable from everyone's recognition."
After a slight pause, Pansy's gaze subconsciously turned toward Draco: "Draco gave me a lot of... spiritual support today. With him by my side, I was able to cast magic with more peace of mind. It was my honor to complete this demonstration with him."
As her words fell, she quickly glanced at Draco. That look was filled with infinite trust and admiration, as if Draco was her most solid support.
Immediately after, Pansy's fingers, clad in thin gauze gloves, lightly brushed against the back of Draco's hand. The movement was gentle and discreet, carrying a hint of a young girl's shyness and testing.
It was fleeting, yet enough to convey the sense of closeness in her heart.
Draco felt the slight touch on the back of his hand. His expression unchanged, he still maintained his proper faint smile and responded calmly and objectively:
"Miss Parkinson's preparation today was extremely thorough, and her execution was also commendably outstanding. The stability during the casting of the Engorgement Charm, especially the linear control of magical output, was precise, smooth, and without the slightest hesitation. This was precisely the key to your victory."
"As a partner, although I did not directly participate in the spellcasting, at least in ensuring the competition process proceeded smoothly without causing trouble, our coordination achieved the expected effect."
These words were objective and fair, both affirming Pansy's strength and clearly defining their partnership, maintaining an appropriate sense of boundaries.
Listening, a flicker of imperceptible disappointment passed through Pansy's eyes.
She had thought she might hear a hint of intimacy in Draco's words, but she hadn't expected them to remain so cold and distant, entirely businesslike in tone.
But this disappointment was fleeting. She quickly latched onto the term 'linear control' in Draco's speech.
Her eyes instantly lit up, and she immediately launched into her favorite mode of magical technique discussion, her tone full of passion and excitement, talking non-stop.
"You noticed that too? I practiced at home for a long time to find the balance point for magical output, repeatedly adjusting the strength and rhythm of the spellcasting. I can't even count the number of times I failed."
"Mr. Macnair specifically gave me pointers. He said magical output is like flowing water—too turbulent and it washes everything away, too slow and it's ineffective. Only by maintaining a constant, linear output can you precisely control the effect of the magic..."
That persistence and seriousness were strikingly similar to Hermione's chattering demeanor when discussing studies.
Pansy spoke with great enthusiasm, her eyes bright, her tone fervent, detailing the nuances and insights from her spellcasting process, completely immersed in her own world.
Seeing this, the surrounding parents nodded in agreement, and a chorus of voices arose: "Indeed, that's true," "Very insightful analysis," "Miss Parkinson's dedication to studying magic is truly rare."
After a round of conversation, the parents' attention turned back to the Parkinson couple, offering congratulations once more: "Your daughter truly has a remarkable talent for magical control, and she studies so diligently. Her future prospects are limitless!"
"Young Master Malfoy's evaluation is extremely fair. Miss Parkinson's linear control of magic was indeed the most outstanding in the entire competition. Her victory is well-deserved!"
"To have such an excellent daughter is truly a blessing for the Parkinson couple!"
The Parkinson couple smiled as they responded one by one, the pride on their faces becoming increasingly evident. This moment of glory surrounding Pansy also earned the Parkinson Family ample face in front of everyone.
After praising Pansy and Draco, the parents' focus of conversation gradually shifted to Lucius Malfoy.
After all, in the wizarding world, Lucius's power and influence were the core everyone truly wanted to curry favor with and befriend.
Everyone gathered around Lucius, some discussing recent developments in the wizarding world, others mentioning cooperation between families.
Their tones were full of flattery and reverence. Lucius, meanwhile, maintained the elegant posture of a noble throughout, responding with composure and appropriate words, fully displaying the demeanor of the head of the Malfoy family.
As for Pansy, from beginning to end, she stuck closely to Draco's side, head held high, accepting congratulations from the surrounding Young Wizards.
Those Young Wizards friendly with her stepped forward to offer words of congratulations.
Those Young Wizards harboring jealousy merely watched from afar, their eyes filled with resentment, not daring to show a hint of it.
Pansy took all of this in, the pride in her heart growing stronger. Being able to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Draco, receiving everyone's attention and envy—
This honor made her happier than winning the championship itself!
The parents' conversation continued for a long time.
As time gradually passed, the guests also began to disperse. This extraordinarily lively Bubble-Pod Engorgement Charm competition finally truly came to an end.
The crowd on the lawn gradually thinned, leaving only a few familiar families still chatting.
After exchanging pleasantries with the Parkinson couple for a moment, Lucius prepared to leave with Draco. Narcissa was already waiting at the manor entrance.
During the farewells, Pansy stayed close to her parents, her eyes locked on Draco, carrying a hint of reluctance and expectation.
Draco gave a slight bow. Although the depth of the bow was somewhat less than what he would give his own parents, it was clearly visible.
"Thank you for your and your wife's gracious hospitality, Mr. Parkinson. Today's gathering was exceptionally well-organized. Both the competition arrangements and the garden decorations were impressive and enlightening."
As his words fell, Draco naturally turned his gaze to Pansy standing beside her parents. His gaze was calm as he gave a slight nod of acknowledgment: "Goodbye, Pansy. See you at Hogwarts."
Hearing this, the Parkinson couple showed satisfied smiles, privately admiring: Young Master Malfoytruly has excellent upbringing and proper manners. His farewell was spoken appropriately and thoroughly, neither losing the dignity of the Malfoy family nor failing to give ample face to the Parkinson family.
Lucius and Narcissa stood to the side, watching Draco's performance. A flicker of imperceptible satisfaction passed through their eyes.
Their son's actions today neither compromised the status of the Malfoy family nor lost an appropriate sense of boundaries.
He was neither arrogant and rude nor deliberately ingratiating, displaying the etiquette and bearing of a noble to the fullest. Such steadiness and propriety rather pleased them.
But hearing Draco's farewell, Pansy felt as if something had lightly pricked her heart, filled with disappointment and unwillingness.
See you at Hogwarts?
Just like that?
No additional words of advice? No intimate remarks? Not even a hint of reluctance?
Today, she had prepared meticulously for the competition, deliberately tried to get close to Draco, tried every way to attract his attention, and all she got in return was a bland, unremarkable'see you at school'?
Her heart full of expectations instantly fell empty. A hollow feeling arose in her chest, and a sour emotion welled up inside.
But she deeply understood the etiquette of Pure-blood families and knew she must not lose her composure. She could only force herself to put on her most proper smile.
Yet that smile on her face inevitably carried a hint of stiffness and strain as she forced herself to respond calmly: "Goodbye, Draco. See you at Hogwarts."
Draco gave a slight nod, said nothing more, turned, and followed Lucius and Narcissa towards the manor entrance.
Pansy stood where she was, staring intently at Draco's retreating back.
Until his figure completely disappeared around the corner of the manor, out of sight.
That gaze contained all the unfulfilled expectations of the day, the hidden shyness, the genuine disappointment, and the unspeakable unwillingness. All these emotions intertwined, complex and intense.
But this disappointment and unwillingness did not last long. Soon, it was replaced by an even stronger fighting spirit.
Pansy clenched her fists, a flicker of determined light flashing in her eyes as she secretly made up her mind.
He saw my excellence today, saw my strength. He just doesn't understand my feelings yet. Perhaps he just needs more time, needs me to prove myself with even more excellence.
Hogwarts... Hogwarts is the real battlefield. Once there, I will definitely make him remember me completely, make him see how different I am, make him willingly draw closer to me!
Chapter 30: The Gains from the Match
The carriage slowly entered Malfoy Manor, passed through the lush courtyard, and came to a steady halt before the entrance of the main residence.
Upon stepping into the courtyard, Lucius's face was expressionless as he spoke curtly, 'Draco, come with me.'
His words were concise yet carried an unquestionable authority.
Draco's heart stirred slightly, knowing it must be to discuss today's match. He composed himself and silently followed his father's steps towards the study.
Narcissa also followed closely behind; beneath her calm gaze lay a hint of scrutiny, clearly having words of advice as well.
The study was located deep within the main residence, quiet and secluded. Pushing the door open, the heavy wooden door slowly closed behind them.
Accompanied by a soft 'click', the lock automatically fell into place, shutting out all the noise from the outside world.
The interior was elegantly and solemnly furnished. Dark wooden bookshelves were filled with ancient texts and magical tomes. Sunlight filtered through the carved windows, casting fragmented patterns of light on the floor.
Lucius walked directly behind the desk and sat down, placing his clasped hands on the tabletop, his fingers lightly tapping the surface.
Those grey-blue eyes, identical to Draco's, now held a cold sharpness as they scrutinized him directly.
The situation was different from that dinner the other night, so Draco wasn't overly tense.
For a moment, silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of Lucius's fingers tapping the desk.
After Narcissa entered, he finally spoke, 'Your mere attendance itself is worth one hundred points.'
It began with affirmation, yet held no warmth.
'Your presence today was not just in response to Pansy's invitation; it reaffirmed to the Parkinson family, and to all the Pure-blood families present, the stability of the alliance between the Malfoys and the Parkinsons. This was the only important task you accomplished today—safeguarding the family's bottom line of interests. It was passable.'
His words paused briefly before Lucius's tone shifted, becoming harshly critical, 'Your performance during the match: zero points.'
Those six short words offered no quarter.
'Distracted throughout, posture lazy, gaze wandering—you showed no regard for this event whatsoever. Such behavior exposed your lack of necessary performative patience for low-level social obligations and, more importantly, revealed your lack of focus.
'Draco, remember, you are the heir of the House of Malfoy. Even if you internally disdain such trivialities, on the surface, you must project an impeccable sense of control, holding everything in your grasp. You must not appear so bored and careless, losing the dignity of a Malfoy.'
As he spoke, the rhythm of his finger tapping the desk quickened slightly, his gaze growing sharper. 'Your post-match conduct: barely passable.'
He then mentioned Draco's evaluation of Pansy today and his farewell remarks to the parents.
'You knew to use precise terms like 'linear control' and 'expected effect' to delineate the boundary between you and Pansy, not overstepping it by an inch. This level of clarity is somewhat commendable.'
'The phrase'See you at Hogwarts' was also appropriately said. It maintained the appearance of camaraderie without leaving any unnecessary promises, avoiding future complications.'
'But this is merely the baseline, Draco. You could have done better—more elegantly, more composedly, leaving room for interpretation in your words, making you harder to read, thereby gaining more initiative, rather than merely being content with avoiding mistakes.'
Lucius leaned forward slightly, speaking with the expectation and admonishment of a patriarch. 'Today, you merely played the part of a passable, but by no means outstanding, Malfoy heir.'
'You defended the lower limit of the family's interests but failed to add a single iota of luster to it.'
'Remember, in any social setting, you yourself are the Malfoy family's most potent silent weapon.'
'Every instance of carelessness, every moment of laxity, weakens the deterrent power of this weapon, giving rise to unwarranted thoughts in those who covet or challenge us.'
'I hope you remember today's lesson. When you reach Hogwarts, learn to wield this weapon more effectively—to not only safeguard the Malfoy glory but to amplify it.'
As Lucius finished speaking, Narcissa stepped forward, standing beside the desk. Her tone was gentle yet carried the same gravity. 'Your father is right, son. You maintained basic courtesy and propriety in today's social setting. That is good; you did not lose the dignity of the Malfoy family.'
'But remember, true strength lies not in avoiding mistakes, but in using your aura and capability to make mistakes dare not approach you easily.'
'Your distractedness during the match today, the blandness in your post-match responses—perhaps you deem them inconsequential—but they could foster unnecessary illusions in some, making them think you are easy to bully or that an opportunity exists. For our Malfoy family, that is a potential problem.'
Listening to his parents' alternating admonishments, Draco inwardly grumbled.
This is utterly exhausting. It was just a minor match, yet every action and word must be so strictly controlled, not a moment of slack allowed. Can't this young master have a moment of ease?
Grumbling aside, Draco was not yet at the point of confronting his parents, so he could only obediently accept the lecture.
Draco straightened his back and gave a slight bow, articulating today's lessons and realizations. 'I understand, Father. My performance today was barely adequate in terms of 'outcome'—defending the alliance with the Parkinson family and avoiding unnecessary trouble. However, regarding the 'process' and 'demeanor,' I indeed fell short of Malfoy standards—too lax, lacking a sense of control.'
'I will remember your teachings. My very existence is a display of the Malfoy family. Every posture, every word, represents the family's face and deterrent power.'
'At Hogwarts, I will never again allow such laxity to give anyone room for misjudgment. I will definitely exhibit the proper dignity and control expected of a Malfoy.'
After speaking, Draco turned to Narcissa. 'Mother, I have also carefully considered your words.'
'Appropriate conduct is a weapon to protect oneself and deter others; proper distance is the art of maintaining relationships and seizing the initiative.'
'My response to Pansy today, while clearly delineating boundaries, was too blunt and direct, lacking composure and subtlety.'
'In the future at Hogwarts, I will learn to wield the weapon of 'propriety' more effectively—using appropriate demeanor and distance to filter the right people and matters, actively controlling situations rather than passively waiting for trouble to approach.'
Listening to Draco's response, the coldness in Lucius's eyes gradually faded a few degrees. He gave a slow nod, evidently somewhat satisfied with his son's comprehension.
Narcissa also revealed a pleased smile, reaching out to gently pat Draco's shoulder. 'Remember what you said today, son.'
'The glory of the Malfoy family will one day be placed in your hands. Only by remaining constantly clear-headed and rigorous can you shoulder this responsibility.'
Draco nodded emphatically and said respectfully, 'Father, Mother, I have engraved today's admonishments in my heart. I will certainly not disappoint your expectations. If there is nothing else, I shall return to my room now.'
Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a glance and both gave their assent.
Having received permission, Draco bowed respectfully, turned, and walked towards the study door.
As he pushed the door open, he couldn't help but inwardly grumble once more.
In the future, it's best to attend as few of these Pure-blood family social events as possible. Not only must one constantly wear a mask of propriety, being cautious in words and deeds,
but one also has to face such harsh reprimands upon returning. Who can endure this level of constant tension!
Fortunately, today wasn't without its gains.