One morning in March, Draco suddenly opened his eyes.
Those were usually calm and indifferent grey eyes, but at this moment, there was a hint of panic in their pupils.
He slept restlessly. Occlumency would occasionally malfunction in his sleep, allowing fragmented, terrifying memories to flood into his dreams, screaming shrilly until they woke him.
Draco sighed wearily. Composing himself on the four-poster bed, he took his wand from under his pillow and cast Occlumency on himself again.
This was a bit better. He could now focus on things other than his nightmares without any distractions. The sound of waves lapping against the window gradually calmed him. He turned to stare blankly out the window and saw some shimmering little fish chasing each other outside, a lively and cheerful scene.
Draco's schedule today was not particularly busy. Ever since Draco defeated Ravenclaw with a "Plumpton Pass," a jubilant Marcus had finally relaxed his demands on the team, Quidditch training was not as demanding, and Draco had a little more free time.
It is better to be busy! That way he will not overthink things. Draco was restless and unsettled by this free time. After waking up, he found it difficult to fall back asleep.
So, with a strange sense of unease, the boy scratched his platinum blonde hair, put on a robe, walked through the dark and cold common room, and strolled down the empty dungeon corridor, lazily climbing the stairs.
He wanted to take advantage of a quiet time when there were few people around to sneak into the library and look up some information about Salazar Slytherin.
To be honest, the library's closing time is practically meaningless to him, especially when you have an Invisibility Cloak, or rather, when you have mastered the Disillusionment Charm.
Unexpectedly, this unruly boy discovered the reason for his unease in the corridor outside the library—Hermione Granger stood frozen in place at the corner near the library, holding the hand mirror he had given her.
She looked surprised.
That once rosy and vibrant face had turned into a stiff, greyish-white tone, completely devoid of any liveliness.
As he watched a scene from his nightmare come true again, his heart stopped beating.
"Damn it!" Draco strode forward, bringing his face close to hers to make sure she was just Petrified, and not worse. Finally, he sighed, nose to nose, his eyes filled with complex emotions. "I told you before, do not act alone. Why did you not listen to me?"
There was no response.
Only his voice echoed forlornly in the corridor, and the silence was unbearable for him. She could no longer wittily retort to him, or earnestly reason with him about the probability of a Muggle-born Hogwarts student encountering a Basilisk.
He circled her blank body, his face grim. He rubbed his temples, resignedly pulled out the small bottle of Mandrake Restorative Draught he had carried with him for nine months, and gave it to the reckless girl.
Thanks to Merlin, the potion worked wonders—her ashen complexion gradually regained its rosy hue.
Her body was no longer stiff and became supple again.
She lost her balance and wobbled as she fell—falling into the boy's arms.
"Oh, be careful." He instinctively reached out an arm and caught her in his arms in time, preventing her from falling to the ground.
She nestled into his arms like a soft, cuddly cat. She had become the person he knew again, her thick hair regaining its brownish sheen, finally making his heart beat again—though it was still clenched in knots.
Hermione stared blankly at the pair of gentle grey eyes above her. He was staring intently at her, his face contorted with heartbreak. He looked both panicked and distressed; she had never seen him so vulnerable.
Her lips trembled; she wanted to say "thank you," but the words would not come out. The terrible Petrification and overwhelming shock were threatening to break her.
"Put your hand on my shoulder," Draco said softly, swallowing the bitterness in his throat. But she looked at him with tears in her eyes, her body trembling, clearly unable to do it—she was as weak and withered as a frozen rose.
So he helped her put one arm around his neck, and supported her other arm and shoulder with his hand, half-dragging and half-pulling her to a nearby bench to rest. "Are you all right?" he asked her, unable to immediately remove his hand from her shoulder.
This terrifying experience seemed to have left her without any physical or mental support. If no one had been there to support her, she might have collapsed immediately. Draco supported her, his heart aching even more.
I do not know how long she has been standing there.
Merlin, she is just a little girl, she should not have to go through such a terrible thing.
Hermione clung tightly to the front of the boy's robe, her body still trembling. She was a terrified rabbit, caught in an unusually violent season, cowering in the only safe place.
Draco found her. He found her terrified and desperate, just when she thought she was going to die. That was the only thing on her mind at that moment. This realisation triggered a feeling similar to that of a fledgling.
She wanted him to hold her and comfort her with his warmth. Otherwise, she would surely continue to freeze to death on the spot, or she would burst into tears of fear.
She wanted to be more assertive; a good girl should not be so close to a boy, no matter how handsome he was. But she was terrified—he had saved her, and it seemed only by leaning on him could she feel a sense of safety.
"It is so scary, it is really so scary." She could not care about anything else anymore, she mumbled with a sob in her voice, her lips trembling, clutching his clothes tightly.
Draco tilted his head and looked at her. Her bewildered and vulnerable expression made him gasp for breath for a moment. He had rarely seen her like that.
She should be carefree and innocent, passionate and romantic, lively and spirited, even serious and earnest; in short, she should never have this kind of expression.
He was distraught over her pitiful state. He awkwardly put his arm around her, his hands moving up and down her cold shoulders, trying to warm them. He whispered comfortingly, "It is all right. You are safe now. You are alive again. Nothing can hurt you anymore."
She remained shivering, looking at him with wet, brown eyes that seemed to reflect a winter forest in the cold rain.
Draco could not stand that look. It reminded him of the torment Bellatrix had inflicted on her, when she lay helplessly on the floor, staring at him with the same heartbreaking gaze.
By Merlin! He had to do something more to stop the rain in the forest. He took a chocolate from his pocket, opened the wrapper, and gently coaxed her, "Open your mouth, eat it..."
Like a lost deer, she opened her mouth, hesitantly, slowly, and sensitively accepting his feeding. She seemed to believe him for the time being, chewing the chocolate with apprehension, but the unease in her eyes remained. She was still tense, as if she might jump up and run away at any moment, or be struck by fear and faint on the spot.
"Good girl... that is it... eat some more... this is the best chocolate from Honeydukes, my last piece... you are such a good girl, do not be afraid... you are safe now..." He pulled out all the little patience he had left from his soul, suppressing the raging, violent emotions burning in his heart.
He tried to persuade her carefully, maintaining a smile, afraid of frightening her.
Because of his unusually gentle tone, Hermione felt a strange sense of grievance welling up inside her. He was so unlike him. He was gentler than any other boy in all of Hogwarts at that moment.
In this situation, she found herself very willing to listen to him; his tone was very persuasive. Tears welled in her eyes as she ate small bites of chocolate from his hand, so obedient it was almost unlike her usual self.
A short whilst later, something strange happened. Warmth surged through her body, and she gradually regained her vitality, no longer feeling stiff, numb, or bone-chillingly cold.
By the time she came to her senses, she had unknowingly finished the entire chocolate.
Draco watched her swallow the last bit of chocolate and smiled with satisfaction. It was good that she could eat.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked, looking deeply into her eyes, trying to make sure she was still heartbroken.
"Much better," Hermione said lazily, a hint of weariness in her eyes—she felt a little weak. She still wanted to lean on him.
"I think you need to go to the Hospital Wing for a full check-up or something. I am not an expert in treating Petrification; Madam Pomfrey is much more experienced in magical healing," Draco told her, looking at her listless appearance with some concern.
"I am fine now," Hermione said softly, her eyes glazed over. She did not want to move. She did not want him to let go of her.
"You still have the energy to argue with me, so it seems there is not much of a problem." Draco smiled slightly, neither confronting her nor mocking her, but speaking gently, "If you can keep your legs from going weak and trembling, I think you will be more persuasive."
Hermione remained silent, her heart beginning to pound again.
"I do not want to be alone. I—" she choked out, clutching his clothes tightly.
"I will go with you, all right? I will not leave you alone," Draco coaxed her until she hesitated and let go of him.
"Come on, I will carry you." He crouched down in front of her, revealing his back. "It has been light for a whilst now. People will be coming to the library soon. If you do not want others to see you like this, you had better hurry."
Hermione was still feeling weak. She managed to lean onto the boy's back, her arms still numb, and it took her a whilst to manage to wrap her arms around his neck. He held her legs firmly, using his warm hands to bring feeling back to her legs.
He was warm. Whether it was his embrace before, or his back, neck, and hands now. Everything was warm. This was the kind of warmth that every Petrified person found hard to let go of. She hugged him tighter.
The twelve-year-old boy's back was still a bit thin, but he walked steadily. She sighed, rested her head on his shoulder, looked at his platinum blonde hair, and smelt the faint, refreshing scent on his neck. The anxiety that had been lingering in her heart was gradually replaced by a sense of fulfilment and security.
She nuzzled his shoulder and realised that she had finally stopped trembling and crying.