"I cannot say this is a small matter." Hermione glared at Draco, emphasising her words, "Can you not? You, the Slytherin who hates risk the most?"
Did he not pride himself on "hating risk"? Now, with a werewolf professor before him, is he not worried about danger at all?
"Yes, brave and fearless Gryffindor," he said lazily, raising his glass to her and taking a sip of his drink.
Hermione was furious. It seemed he was more concerned with whether his composure was perfect enough to capture her attention than with the werewolf issue.
In the entire pub, she seemed to be the only one who was worried.
And yes, her eyes, which she could not help, were indeed drawn to him.
Why can some people exude elegance even when they are bored?
Why did he coldly survey the entire pub, yet always manage to let slip a small smile when he looked at her?
Why does she always notice these seemingly trivial details, even magnify these details that no one else cares about, and teeter alone on the edge of a heart attack?
And he... always so calm, composed, and self-assured.
This is infuriating. Hermione angrily took a big gulp of Butterbeer, completely oblivious to the foam clinging to her lips.
"Hermione, on your lip..." Draco raised his eyebrows, gesturing to her.
"What?" Hermione asked angrily.
Draco gestured around his mouth with his hand.
"What riddle are you playing at now?" Hermione said impatiently.
She was fed up with the guessing game. She rolled her eyes at him, took another gulp, and decided to ignore him.
She was suddenly thoroughly annoyed. Annoyed by her palpitations. Annoyed by his composure.
As it turns out, rolling one's eyes with a ring of foam at the corners of one's mouth is not unappealing at all; it is even rather endearing.
Hermione's extra sip made the foam at her mouth look even worse, and even more endearing.
Draco, unable to bear watching, turned towards her, reached for a napkin, and simply wiped away the ring of foam for her.
For a moment, Hermione was startled. She wanted to pull away. She even leaned back in her chair.
However, his gaze was fixed on her face, his expression gentle and natural, making her feel like a fretful cat being soothed.
"Do not move," he said, bringing his face slightly closer to hers, his clear grey eyes unsettling her. He gently pressed the napkin against her lips a few times, then abruptly pulled away.
"That is much better now." He tilted his head and looked her over, then said with satisfaction, crumpling the napkin into a small ball and tossing it onto the table with a soft thud, striking her heart at the same time.
Hermione coughed violently, turning her face red.
"Anapneo!" Draco quickly tapped her with his wand, patting her back as he complained, "Could you be more careful?"
"I did not do it on purpose!" Hermione retorted, her face as red as an apple.
Good heavens! His gentle patting made her feel flustered, yet also vaguely happy.
In an instant, she stopped minding him... he was patting her so gently... had her brain also gone foggy?
"Merlin's stinky socks, just pretend I do not exist." Ron gave them a look as if they were mad, made a face, and focused on fiddling with the biting teacup he had bought from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
Just then, Harry finally returned. He sat down excitedly opposite Hermione and announced, "Professor Lupin will be giving me private lessons on the Patronus Charm!"
"Brilliant!" Ron next to him whistled.
"What did he say?" Draco asked with interest, continuing to gently pat the girl who was still coughing slightly.
"He thinks the Dementors have an unusual interest in me and that I need to practise more." A shadow crossed Harry's face.
"Indeed, he has some skill; he is a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor with real talent." Draco said noncommittally. "You should practise more; perhaps you will be able to conjure a corporeal Patronus sooner."
"Yes! If you have any leaks for exam, remember to share them with us!" Ron finally put down his biting teacup and said with shining eyes.
Hermione did not say anything.
Should she announce it to everyone? Tell them all that Professor Lupin is a werewolf?
However, she had also heard what Draco said. Indeed, Professor Lupin was a truly accomplished Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, far more knowledgeable than any other Defence Against the Dark Arts professor she had encountered in the past two years.
Professor Lupin was dedicated and responsible, teaching his students so much useful knowledge; moreover, he was always very kind to his students... the kind of encouraging teacher that Gryffindors admired... far, far better than Professor Snape's Slytherin-style harsh and sarcastic teaching.
Should such a talented and principled wizard be shunned simply because he is a werewolf?
So she fell silent.
She sipped her Butterbeer slowly, no longer daring to drink it in large gulps, afraid the boy beside her would wipe her mouth again. She was still flustered by Draco's touch, even though it had been through a napkin.
And the way he looked at her every time, the smile he had just given her, the gentle pat he was giving her back now. And his swift and powerful embrace in the snow, the breath he had taken against her ear.
All of this made her heart flutter with a sweet sensation, as if a thousand bees were buzzing around her.
She was a beehive that had never been harvested. Every casual thing he did for her felt like poking at her hive.
At that moment, the boy glanced at her, smiled at her with satisfaction, and stopped patting her.
Good heavens. In just one glance, her insides felt stung by a thousand bees at once.
Oh no, oh no, this is terrible. She was in a daze, feeling utterly lost.
Harry took a sip of Butterbeer and sighed contentedly.
He continued to tell his friends, "Professor Lupin told me that my father's Patronus was a stag and my mother's Patronus was a doe. He said they were both very powerful wizards."
That sip of drink seemed to cheer Harry up, and his eyes sparkled with longing.
He said, "Maybe one day I can be as good as them."
Draco looked at Harry and suddenly remembered that in his previous life he had conjured up that stag, which had scared him and Marcus, who were pretending to be Dementors, half to death.
He chuckled inscrutably and said to the black-haired boy in front of him, "You will. You will conjure a Patronus. You will be as powerful as they were, or even more powerful than them."
Harry looked at him in surprise.
"They will be very proud of you," Draco said with certainty and composure.
"Oh, thank you," Harry said, giving him a slight smile.