"Draco, are you blushing?"
In the dim light of the wall lamp, Hermione looked at his face with suspicion and noticed a faint blush upon it.
"It is a bit hot," the boy quickly closed his eyes, feigning ignorance.
At that moment, Draco suddenly noticed her stroking his hair.
It did not feel bad. He had always thought of himself as the type who did not like being touched or stroked.
Since his rebirth, he had been very wary and vigilant... a sad shadow left over from his previous life.
On one occasion, he had once knocked Crabbe, who was trying to jump out from around a corner to joke with him, into the wall. Since then, the legend that "you can never sneak up on Draco Malfoy" had been circulating within Slytherin.
Then Blaise, not believing in bad luck, had tried to punch him from behind, and received the same treatment in return;
Later, more Slytherin students who did not believe the warnings had come to experiment on him in turn, but they did not achieve any good results; they only received his indiscriminate attacks.
"Draco, are you out of your mind? Where are your gentlemanly manners? Are you going to be alone forever?" Pansy had looked at him like he was mad after he knocked away some hapless Slytherin girl... she had only wanted to try touching his hair or his shoulder.
Gentlemanly manners? Draco chuckled.
Ever since he had witnessed the horrific nature of Bellatrix, that mad woman, his gentlemanly manners had died.
He dared not underestimate the destructive power any woman could bring; they might be even more ruthless than men. Of course, this did not mean he was fonder of men.
To be fair, Draco Malfoy dared not underestimate anyone, nor dared he trust anyone, regardless of gender.
But Hermione Granger was the one exception.
She existed independently of everyone else.
His wariness and vigilance had no effect on her.
The feeling of being touched and caressed by her never made him nervous; on the contrary, it made him feel comfortable and at ease.
"How can it be hot?" Hermione complained, shivering. "It is November. I actually feel a bit cold in here."
"Are you cold?" Draco opened his eyes, putting those memories behind him, and looked at her with some concern.
Her face seemed a little pale.
"Did you not notice that the fireplace in the Hospital Wing is still unlit? Madam Pomfrey must have forgotten about it..." Hermione muttered to herself. "She just let me in and then left in a hurry."
Meanwhile Madam Pomfrey: walking excitedly on her way to report this gossip to Madam Pince.
Draco craned his neck, trying to see through the window in front of the hospital bed. Outside, icy rain was falling and the cold wind was howling.
"Erm, do you want to come under the covers..." he said abruptly, a little embarrassed, "It is warmer than out there."
"Oh? That will not do!" she raised her voice. "That is definitely not..."
Harry, fast asleep next door, seemed to be disturbed and stirred restlessly.
Hermione quickly lowered her voice, afraid of disturbing Harry. She leaned closer to Draco's face, looked at his furrowed brow, and could not resist stroking it, trying to smooth it out. "That will not do. Stop fooling around, I have to go. You should go to sleep, Draco."
"Just for a little while... I feel cold." Draco frowned again, revealing a vulnerable expression.
He had probably lost his mind.
His heart had been left empty and cold by those Dementors, and he had forgotten how to practise restraint and avoidance. His inherent wilfulness had been reactivated, and his temper had become reckless again.
Now, his mind was filled with reckless and impulsive thoughts.
He wanted to hold her hair forever, even just a strand, to fill the emptiness in his hands; he wanted to hold her tightly, just like that night in the Great Hall, falling asleep to her scent; or, like on the bed at the hot spring sanatorium, to surround her without restraint, so that she could breathe some warmth onto his collarbone and heal his cold and desolate heart.
That way, perhaps his extremely miserable symptoms could be alleviated, and he could try to get a good night's sleep on this uncomfortable hospital bed in the Hospital Wing, he thought indulgently.
"Really? Did you not just say you were hot?" Hermione looked at his face suspiciously and touched his forehead.
It is not very warm, she thought.
"I feel terrible... and I am scared... so many Dementors... you know, I am cold all over, even my heart feels ice cold..." Draco, without hesitation, put on a mournful face and started to act like a spoiled child.
The side effects of the Dementors' attack were like a cauldron of boiling potion of despair, sizzling again. Utter vulnerability overwhelmed his soul, shattering his willpower into nothingness.
His fortress of reason completely crumbled, and his tone involuntarily and instinctively carried a hint of coquetry.
"All right... do not be afraid, I am coming." Hermione hesitated for a moment, then, thinking of how terrifying the Dementors were, she could not help but feel sorry for him.
Yes, so many Dementors, so densely packed. He must be feeling very distressed and in need of comfort.
At least I can give him a hug so he will not feel so lonely and cold in his hospital bed.
She made a quick decision, took off her shoes, and crawled in from the corner of the blanket.
Draco was as obedient as a child about to receive a sweet. He moved aside to make room for her to snuggle up to him.