Draco's eagle owl was probably the most frequent visitor to the entire Slytherin table.
Every few days, the owl brought him something from his mother at home—sweets, chocolate, or some trendy little gadget that Narcissa thought her precious son might find useful.
But today, Draco, whose expression was usually calm and impassive, showed an unusual hint of joy as he ran his fingers over the exquisite silver package. Inside was something he had been longing for—the invisibility cloak.
After returning from Madam Malkin's last time, he had imitated his mother's handwriting and ordered the item from the shop, paying a large sum of Galleons for it.
Draco had not bought the cloak to use it every day, but as a precaution. Invisibility cloaks on the market require many rare materials to make, and their drawback is obvious—they can only be used a limited number of times. After prolonged use, they gradually lose their invisibility effect and become just ordinary cloaks.
It wasn't that Draco couldn't use the Disillusionment Charm. In his previous life, he had already mastered it, but the charm was unreliable, he had never been very proficient at it, and besides, the spell had a time limit.
Until you had fully mastered the Disillusionment Charm, an invisibility cloak could save you a lot of trouble.
Draco didn't want to lose another fifty points for wandering around the school at night. And some places were safer to visit late at night, when everyone was quiet.
For example, the Room of Requirement on the eighth floor; or, for instance, the tower at night, to get some information out of the ghosts.
At that moment, at the Gryffindor table across the way, Longbottom, looking rather dazed, had once again received his Remembrall from his grandmother, and a crowd of Gryffindor brats had gathered around him. Draco had lost all interest in it and didn't want to embarrass the clumsy boy.
But Merlin's will seemed very powerful. Even without Draco's interference, the reckless Potter still ignored Madam Hooch's orders, and Professor McGonagall hurried over and took him away.
That stupid Remembrall! When Longbottom's broom went out of control and threw him from the sky, the Remembrall had fallen out of his pocket and got stuck on a roof. The show-off Potter had flown up to retrieve it, then dived fifty feet when it rolled off the roof, catching it a foot above the ground.
All the first-years were dumbfounded. Then they began to chatter about the farce. Draco stood at the back of the crowd, silently watching Potter's small figure disappear into the Entrance Hall, led by Professor McGonagall.
"Harry won't be expelled, will he?" Hermione appeared beside Draco, asking worriedly. Harry had broken the rules in an undeniable way, and he had been caught red-handed by the strictest professor.
Ever since taking flying lessons from Draco, Hermione had instinctively wanted to ask him for advice whenever she was unsure about something.
To be fair, what did it matter whether he was a Slytherin or not?
Draco knew many spells and always seemed to be in complete control in class. He met many of the new things at school with a calm, collected attitude, standing out from the "ignorant and shocked faces" of the other boys his age. Most importantly, he could always give reliable answers and advice, the most prominent example being what he had said to her before the Sorting Ceremony.
Compared to him, the other boys always seemed silly. It had nothing to do with which house they were in, Hermione couldn't help thinking.
"I bet he won't be punished. Hogwarts is more flexible with its rules than you think," Draco said cryptically. "Think about it another way: Professor McGonagall is a Quidditch enthusiast. And as far as I know, the Gryffindor team is missing a decent Seeker."
"Draco, I don't think you're right this time! That's impossible, he's too young! And how can someone do something wrong and not be punished?" Hermione looked unconvinced—how could even Draco say something so unreliable?
By dinner time, news that Potter had become Gryffindor's new Seeker had spread throughout Hogwarts, and even the portraits on the walls were discussing it with great interest.
"I told you so," Draco whispered to Hermione as they passed each other. Her mouth fell open in disbelief, and a faint smile played on his lips—he was pleased by the dazed look on the Know-It-All's face.
Although his smile was rare and rather handsome, she always felt there was a hint of sarcasm hidden in it.
Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor table, her anger blazing, indignant for the first time at the fact that "Draco was right." Opposite her, Harry and Ron were cheerful, and she faced them with a stern expression.
Human nature is often strange and unpredictable. When her friend was in danger, she worried and fretted; but when that friend broke the rules and went unpunished, she felt it was unfair.
"So, you think breaking the rules is okay?" she said primly to Harry. "You could have broken your neck, you know that?"
Harry clearly didn't know how to handle the situation; he was still caught up in the shock and joy of becoming the Seeker.
"Oh, don't be a spoilsport. What does this have to do with you?" Ron said nonchalantly.
"This could get us into trouble, couldn't it? Don't you care about Gryffindor, only about yourself? I don't want you to make us lose all the points I earned from Professor McGonagall in Transfiguration!" Hermione was furious.
"But Harry wasn't expelled, and he became the youngest member of the house team in a century. All you know is your grades! You have no idea what joining the Quidditch team means!" Ron glared at her as if she were a madwoman and angrily dragged Harry away.
Of course she didn't understand! Hermione thought angrily. She didn't want to understand this kind of performance art of riding a broom!
Even so, during Draco's second private flying lesson for her, Hermione couldn't help complaining. "I really don't understand why boys become so unreasonable when it comes to brooms and flying."
By now she was very proficient in the preparatory movements and the theory, but she still didn't dare to fly.
The horrific crash Neville Longbottom had suffered during his last flying lesson seemed to have left her traumatized. Draco glanced at her. "You're not afraid of heights, are you?"
Occasionally, wizards did claim to have acrophobia or even motion sickness, but Draco believed that for most of them it was psychological, and that it could be overcome through practice.
What's more, this was Hermione Granger, a girl who had even ridden Gringotts' dragon—that Ukrainian Ironbelly.
Acrophobia? She had to be kidding.
"I think flying is boring." Hermione pretended to ride her broomstick, head held high, looking extremely proud, but still showed no intention of taking off.
She was just wasting time, babbling on and on—which made Draco a little impatient.
This was flying! Did she even realize what a wonderful experience she was missing?
"Okay." He stepped forward, swung onto the broom in front of her, and quickly adjusted his position. "Right. I'll demonstrate for you. Hold on tight."
"What are you doing—" Hermione had just grabbed his robe, but before she could finish speaking, the broomstick shot into the air. Before she could even prepare herself, a fierce gust of wind swept over her.
And so he took her soaring into the sky. Suddenly. Without warning. Completely out of the blue.
Her feet left the ground, dangling in mid-air, unsteady and terrifying.
The air rushed against her face and body, and now the only thing keeping her from falling was the flying broom beneath her, which she didn't quite trust.
And was it really safe for two people to ride the same broomstick? She couldn't help worrying, and she clutched his robe tightly.
If Draco had known about her hesitation, he would have told her that under normal circumstances a broom could carry only one adult wizard, but in an emergency it could carry two, let alone the weight of two underage wizards.
However, those words would have to wait until later. At that moment, Hermione was too frightened to ask any questions. She was focused on clutching his robes, immersed in the tension of her first flight, frantically aware that she had completely lost control of her surroundings.
She was like a feather floating in the air, drifting wherever he took her, her rise and fall entirely beyond her control.
Amidst the rushing wind, Draco shouted wildly from the front a few times, seemingly experiencing genuine joy at last. "You have to experience the joy of flying for yourself! That freedom! Otherwise, you'll never understand!"
"No, Draco…" Hermione finally cried out, but the howling wind swallowed her words. She tried to look around; the thick clouds seemed both near and far, and the wind blew in from all directions, making her shiver.
Hermione had to admit that she had absolutely no faith in the flying broomstick. Two months ago, a broomstick had been just a cleaning tool to her, and now she was being asked to believe that it could carry people through the air.
So she could only turn to the one person in the sky who could give her a sense of security—the one controlling the flight. Her face pale and her heart racing, she stretched out her arms without thinking and wrapped them around the boy's waist.
That's better, Hermione thought. He seemed quite familiar with flying broomsticks and wasn't afraid of flying at all. If she held on to him, she probably wouldn't fall off the broom.
"Look! Look down!" Draco shouted from the front. "You have to see how beautiful it is!"
Only after he urged her did she dare to look around.
Good heavens, they had flown so high! The Hogwarts grounds had become a vivid picture beneath her feet, a vast world unlike anything she could see from within them.
The magnificent castle looked like exquisite building blocks, the towering Gryffindor Tower lay beneath their feet, and the dense, deep Forbidden Forest resembled a giant cauliflower... Sights she had only ever glimpsed through an aeroplane window just after takeoff or before landing were now laid out before her without any obstruction, a 360-degree view without a single blind spot.
Then she saw something farther away. Rolling mountains and calm, still waters stretched out like a magnificent oil painting, with the sky and earth as its canvas and the contours of the lakes and mountains as its brushstrokes.
They were as insignificant as a drop in the ocean, yet as effortless as mayflies in the vast universe. He rode his broomstick, carrying her leisurely through the beautiful scenery, like two linked shooting stars streaking across the boundless cosmos.
The sight made Hermione forget to breathe, forget her fear. She was overwhelmed with awe, her heart pounding. At that moment, any words were pale and powerless, unable to describe even a fraction of its magnificence and splendor.
"So beautiful..." she said dreamily, resting her head on his shoulder and hugging him tightly. He laughed in front of her, and she felt the vibrations deep in his back.
"Draco, wouldn't this be breaking school rules..." Hermione said with admiration, but her voice betrayed a hint of nervousness. "We need to get down quickly—"
"Give me five minutes!" Draco shouted.
Merlin! It had been far too long since he had flown freely and joyfully.
Flying was the only thing that could still stir real emotion in him. Only the thrill and the heartbeat that came with such height could make him feel that he was still truly alive; could make him certain that everything he was experiencing was real, not an illusion.
"Hold on tight!" he suddenly shouted. On a whim, he swooped down from the sky with Hermione, almost vertically, toward the still surface of the Black Lake.
Hermione let out her first tiny scream in the air, like a fledgling bird trying to fly for the first time. She clung to his back, gripping even tighter the only sense of security she could find high in the sky.
The sudden weightlessness awakened the fear she had just forgotten, and her heart pounded like a drum. The fierce wind tore at her cheeks and hair, and she dared not look around anymore. She could only press her face firmly against his back and neck, shielding herself from the cold wind and desperately seeking his warmth.
He sat steady, not trembling as she pressed close. Strangely, a refreshing watermelon scent wafted from his neck.
Hermione thought she must be crazy, because in the midst of this terrifying, uncertain, suffocating fall, she somehow had the energy to think about other things—she thought the smell was wonderful.
Her scream snapped Draco out of his daze; she was terrified. He skillfully swerved the broom and glided nimbly across the mirror-like surface of the Black Lake, just short of plunging headlong into it.
The screams stopped abruptly, but her heart was still pounding.
The wind suddenly softened, and the warm sunlight made her feel somewhat lazy, as if the weightlessness that had just overwhelmed her had never existed.
But the crisp scent on his neck told her that they really had plummeted straight down, that it hadn't been a fantasy but reality. Besides, at this moment, all her strength had been drained by the screaming and the fall.
The Black Lake was still and calm today. At this time of day it was usually deserted, which was why Draco had felt safe bringing her here to fly.
A free breeze caressed their cheeks. "Look at this lake, isn't it beautiful?" Draco's voice was filled with excitement. The lake shimmered beneath their feet, reflecting their image like a bird soaring through the sky.
"Yes, it's beautiful, but I'm worried..." Hermione's voice trembled as she clung to him tightly, afraid that the broom might slip and pull her into the lake.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure nothing happens to you." Noticing the tension in Hermione's movements, he spoke loudly from the front, then quickly glanced back, only to see her curly brown hair fluttering in the wind.
His voice was clear and bright, carrying an unusual joy. He didn't seem as aloof and proud as usual, but rather revealed a touch of genuine childlike innocence. This wasn't unpleasant. Hermione calmed herself a little and tried to listen to him and experience the wonderful feeling of flying through the air.
However, because of the lingering effects of the dive, she was still terrified. She simply closed her eyes, clinging to him like a sloth, inhaling his faint, refreshing scent and pretending she was on flat ground, sitting on the back of someone's bicycle or something. Her hands stayed tightly wrapped around him, not daring to let go for even a moment.
They had flown for only five minutes, but it felt like she had run a marathon.
When she got off the broom, her legs went weak and she almost tripped. So Draco, that bad boy, reached out and steadied her.
"Little rascal, how was that? Want to try again?" His eyes shone brightly, and the smile on his lips looked both smug and triumphant. Miss Know-It-All's messy hair, even more disheveled by the wind, made her look like a little madwoman, which made him smile even wider.
This was the first time Hermione had seen him smile so joyfully. It was as radiant as the sun, as bright as the stars. She was speechless, momentarily dazzled by his captivating smile.
A strange thought rose in her wildly beating heart: he should smile more.
Honestly! This was no time for that! She quickly came to her senses and began to scold him in earnest. "You... I'm sure you're breaking the school rules!"
"Nobody saw it anyway," Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "If you obey all the rules, you'll miss all the fun."
"Draco Malfoy, you madman! All boys go crazy when they get near flying broomsticks!" she snapped at him, overwhelmed by the lingering fear of flying and the deep turmoil within her.
This crazy boy! She no longer thought of him as a little gentleman! When he went crazy, he was even more outrageous than Harry and Ron…
What was worse, she couldn't explain what it had felt like to fly in the air.
Undoubtedly, she hated flying at high altitudes; at times, she had felt like throwing up. But she didn't hate the feeling of holding him in the air, nor did she hate smelling his scent, nor did she hate the way he smiled at her.
He had asked if she wanted to try again, and for a moment she actually considered whether she should.
But she clearly hated the feeling of flying high in the sky, the fear of being out of control, the emptiness of feeling lost and adrift... so why would she be willing to try it again?
What a chaotic and complicated feeling this was!
She stormed off, her face flushed with anger. Perhaps she was pretending to be angry at Draco, or perhaps she was a little irritated by the wind, but she was probably really frightened by her own chaotic emotions.
Good heavens! She hated flying! And this messed-up mood of hers! It all boiled down to the boys being far too obsessed with that stupid broomstick!
That was just a broom!
Who would really believe it could fly?
For the next few days, Hermione was unusually solemn and didn't speak to Draco on her own initiative. Draco felt a little regretful; perhaps he shouldn't have impulsively taken her flying—now one of his few sources of joy at Hogwarts was gone.
He had been somewhat out of control at that moment. He probably hadn't touched a broomstick or flown properly in a long time, and he had felt a strange surge of excitement, a desire to fly and share that joy with her.
Moreover, he had maliciously wanted to see her show a less "know-it-all" side: to be less composed, less rigid, and not just live in her comfort zone, ignoring the things that might be dangerous but could also be wonderful.
He always wanted to tease her.
This was not a good habit.
Clearly, this approach had been wrong; it was too simplistic and crude. And she was just a little girl now, far from the brave and fearless Hermione Granger who could withstand his teasing.
He should have been gentler and more patient. Draco glanced at her wistfully; she was preparing potion ingredients with the round-faced Longbottom, her face expressionless, lost in thought.
So Draco had no choice but to temporarily become potion-making partners with the dull but somewhat intelligent Theodore Nott.
Fortunately, he noticed that she was ignoring Potter and Weasley as well.
In other words, it seemed she didn't want to talk to anyone anymore.
Draco was quite familiar with this cold attitude. Back then, she had always been wary, defensive, and resentful towards him, often glaring at him as if he were a giant slug.
Compared to that, this wasn't as serious as it had been in his previous life; it was just that she didn't want to talk to him or even make eye contact—Draco comforted himself.
Hermione Granger was indeed in a bad mood. And when Harry's broomstick package landed brazenly on the Gryffindor table, her resentment seemed to reach its peak.
It reminded her of all the unsettling emotions caused by that damned broom, whether it was the boys lining up to break school rules because of brooms, or the particular emotional turmoil caused by Draco.
Boys' fascination with broomsticks was no different, whether they were Gryffindors or Slytherins!
"Thank you, Neville!" Harry and Ron raised their pumpkin juice to Neville. Neville blushed and said shyly, "You're welcome."
"So you think this is a reward for breaking the school rules?" an angry voice said from behind them. Hermione walked past, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hands.
"I thought you weren't going to talk to us anymore," Harry said.
"Yeah, so let's not talk," Ron said. "It makes us feel very comfortable."
Hermione felt a sharp pang in her heart. She forced an arrogant air, held her head high, and strode away.