When Hermione entered the sitting room, Draco was sitting on the sofa, engrossed in reading The Complete Guide to Asian Antidotes.
It was a day in mid-July, and the weather was incredibly clear. However, Draco showed no sign of going out. He had his long legs crossed on a footstool, his left hand holding the book, and his right index and middle fingers together, gently rubbing his temples, as if he were pondering some important matter.
She coughed softly.
Hearing this, he stopped rubbing his temples. He casually lowered the book, resting it against his chest with a unique elegance. Through his platinum-blond hair framing his forehead, he raised his grey eyes and glanced at her dismissively. "I reckoned there were no classes scheduled for today."
"No, not at all," Hermione said softly, giving him a smile.
"By the way, how did you get in?" Draco realised what was happening, looked up, and raised his eyebrows to examine her closely.
Today she wore a light purple T-shirt and a white miniskirt. A pair of white ankle socks covered her ankles, blending seamlessly with her white Mary Jane shoes. Without the cover of her wizard's robes, the girl's long, healthy legs were exposed, radiating vitality.
"Dobby let me in," Hermione said smugly.
"You seem to have got quite familiar with him." Draco shook his head.
Hermione Granger, the house-elves' eternal friend, could effortlessly mingle with these creatures I cannot comprehend. He gestured with his chin towards the empty seat beside him, his eyes fixed on her, and said, "Come sit down."
Normally, if someone dared to speak to Hermione Granger in such an imperative sentence, she would probably be indignant. But today, she had barely frowned, and before she could utter any words of protest, her legs obeyed her will.
When his eyes are fixed on me, I seem to find it hard to refuse him.
She walked up to him under his gaze and landed lightly next to him, her smooth, white legs very close to his trousers.
Draco's gaze swept over her legs for a moment before he subtly returned his attention to his book.
Hermione was oblivious; she had her head resting on the back of the sofa, tilting it unconsciously, staring blankly at his face.
Draco was trying to keep his mind focused on the book. But he could not concentrate because she was staring at him with her round, cat-like eyes and her legs were gently swaying beside him.
He did not change his reading posture, but his gaze quietly shifted from the last line of the book to the bare Achilles tendon exposed by the top of her socks.
I feel like the strangest person in the world. I cannot take my eyes off her dangling ankle. I even started to find that Achilles tendon quite beautiful.
There is a moment when I want to grasp it. The thought is enough for me to slap myself or make my stomach churn for a whilst.
At that moment, he felt her intense gaze. He felt a little nervous.
He forced himself to look away. He dared not look at her again—I am afraid she will see right through me.
"Would you like some tea?" he asked her suddenly as he hurriedly turned a page of his book.
"Oh, actually, I wanted to try something different today—I heard there is a famous spring water coffee place in Bath." Hermione snapped out of her reverie and said excitedly, "My mum has been recommending I try it. I just wanted to ask if you were interested."
During summer holiday, I would often go to train at four or five in the morning when the weather is still cool. During the day, I prefer to stay indoors and study.
How could I possibly have the confidence to sit idle? The threat of the Dark Lord might still exist. Did Dumbledore discover the Horcruxes in my past life? When did he discover them? Why did he not solve the Horcruxes himself, instead leaving it to Harry?
Can Dumbledore really solve the Horcrux problem on his own?
Moreover, I not only have to participate in Mr Slughorn's potions tutoring and complete a huge amount of summer homework, but also secretly research methods to treat dragon pox.
However, Hermione was not wrong. He had not slept well last night and was feeling tired today. Besides, he suddenly remembered Mrs Granger's words—Hermione "did not make many friends" in Bath.
Draco softened and glanced back at her.
She was staring at him intently, like a cat seeing dried fish for the first time.
"Oh, Spring Water Coffee, is that right?" He was helpless against her longing gaze, so he could only sigh and put the book aside.
Besides, those beautiful legs and ankles... really should not be wasted indoors, but should be displayed more on the streets of Bath.
"Yes!" Seeing that he seemed interested, her tone suddenly became more lively, and her eyes lit up. "Let us buy some speciality bread for Harry on the way. I heard that those Muggles are mistreating him every day, only giving him a little food each day. He is almost starving to death…"
"All right, let us buy it and go," he said, standing up first.
Occasionally strolling through the Muggle streets with her, engaging in role-playing, and pretending to be a Muggle feels quite nice. It allows me to clear my mind of the magical world and lock my anxiety away in a dark room.
"This restaurant is pretty good, is it not?" Sitting by the window, she looked around and asked smugly.
"It is really good, the live classical music is quite nice," Draco said, looking at the coffee menu.
"Oh, that is Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier," Hermione said casually.
"You know about this?" Draco asked in surprise.
"I learnt Muggle piano when I was little. I only studied for a few years and can play a few pieces, but I am not proficient," Hermione said regretfully. "There is nothing I can do. Hogwarts is a boarding school, so I cannot continue studying there."
Draco fell silent. There is a similar instrument in a corner of the library at Malfoy Manor, but unfortunately, no one knows how to play it.
"All right, it is not a big deal. Let us order coffee first. What would you like to drink? It is on me."
"Oh, an iced Americano, please," Draco said casually. "An espresso would also be fine."
"Good heavens, is that not the bitterest?" she said, frowning. "Why do you drink this bitter stuff? Do you not like sweet things?"
"How did you know?" He glanced at her strangely.
"Although you hid it very well, I saw you eating chocolate cake once," Hermione said smugly. "You were secretly smiling."
"Why would you notice something like that?" he asked casually.
"I just noticed it. There is no reason why," she said quickly.
"Across the dining table and aisle, and a bunch of students? You still noticed all that?" He looked up at her, his mood suddenly improving a little.
"That is not the point!" She blushed slightly. "The point is, you like sweets!"
"That is right," Draco lazily admitted. "You saw right through me. Personally speaking, I do have a sweet tooth."
"Then why do you like Americano?" She looked blank.
"I reckon the best coffee has never been Americano or espresso," he said frankly.
"Can you tell me what flavour of coffee you reckon is the best?" she asked curiously.
"An iced latte, with whipped cream and chocolate sauce." He had a nostalgic look on his face. "I reckon this is the best."
"All right. I shall order this and try it." She glanced at him, a sly look on her face.
The waiters were quick, and soon served the coffee to the boy and girl by the window.
"Try it," he said to her, suddenly looking forward to her reaction.
She examined it for a moment, then carefully took a sip. Suddenly, her eyes widened and lit up. "This tastes really good! It is so enjoyable to drink—is this your favourite flavour?"
"That is right," he said softly, taking a sip of his iced Americano, the bitter, cool taste immediately spreading in his mouth.
"Then why do you keep drinking Americano? The taste is completely different!" she asked incredulously.
"Because it is bitter enough," he said softly. "It reminds me that the happiness I am experiencing is an illusion, and that bitterness is the only reality."
Bitterness would remind me of who I once was and what difficult mission I carry. It would remind me that I have no right to indulge in present pleasures.
"You are torturing yourself." She shook her head. "Torturing yourself for no reason."
"I am just trying to stay awake," Draco said, his eyes downcast, unable to look at her any more—the happiness on her face is alluring, even captivating.
"Drink it!" Hermione shoved her iced latte in front of the boy and said domineeringly, "At least take a break today, do not make yourself suffer so much, all right?"
Before he could react, she took the iced Americano from in front of him and moved it to her side. "You are not allowed to drink this today."
"Do you not always say that wasting food is shameful?" He tried to snatch back the extremely bitter cup of coffee, but was afraid of spilling it on her clothes, so he did not dare to use his full strength.
"I shall drink it, I shall drink it, all right?" Hermione leant back and downed the iced Americano in one gulp. Her movements were rather bold; she slammed the glass on the table with a "clang" and began to complain with a frown, "Good heavens, you self-torturing boy, drinking this stuff every day! It is so bitter!"
Draco stared at her, dumbfounded, unsure how to react.
I had already taken a sip of the coffee; without reckoning, she drank it all down.
"I am full!" Hermione said, feigning annoyance. "No waste, you have to finish that iced latte!"
Draco stared at her, then suddenly froze.
What is Hermione doing? Why is she treating me like that? Her tone is both domineering and unreasonable. Who else would dare order me around like that? Yet I always find her adorable.
He obediently picked up the cup, and for the first time in his life, he tasted the coffee flavour he loved most in his previous life.
It is delicious. It is incredibly delicious. Even better than I remember.
It is so sweet. Especially sweet. As sweet as I remember her.
"Hermione, did you plan this all along? Did you plan it when you ordered it?" He sipped the coffee that made his heart sweet and could not help but smile at her.
It was a smile that relaxed his brows and eyes. A smile that shone brightly. His first smile of the day.
"I do not know what you are talking about." Hermione looked at his smile with satisfaction, pretending it was none of her business, and turned her head to admire Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier, a smile secretly creeping onto her lips.
Draco has been frowning all day; something must be bothering him. He needs something to cheer him up, not something so bitter. As it turns out, I was right. His mood definitely improved, did it not?
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