"Are you feeling better?" Hermione turned to the side, rested her head on his shoulder, and began to gently stroke his other shoulder, trying to make him feel better.
Sure enough, her embrace worked.
It exuded a delicate fragrance, gentle and warm, making him feel safe and peaceful. The hospital bed did not feel so uncomfortable any longer. Draco wrapped his arms tightly around her, gently holding the ends of her hair, smiling slightly, feeling the emptiness in his heart being filled.
"Much better. Not so cold any more." He hummed contentedly, drowsily being stroked by her, like a cat purring contentedly by the fireplace.
"Draco, you know I cannot stay here forever, and I cannot keep you warm forever," Hermione reminded him seriously, while unconsciously snuggling against his shoulder to find a more comfortable spot.
She was starting to regret it.
Her "heart palpitation syndrome" was still unresolved! That morning's forehead kiss remained an unsolved mystery in her mind; that hug at Honeydukes still made her face flush and her heart race; and now, he was acting coquettishly, insisting that he was cold and asking her to come to his bed and hug him!
She should not have agreed to his request on a whim.
She dutifully patted his shoulder, her mind reeling. She realised it must have been his pitiful expression that had momentarily lowered her guard.
This is the Hospital Wing, a place bustling with people!
And she, risking discovery, had abandoned her blank essay, "How to Identify and Kill Werewolves," with only a title, in the Gryffindor common room, and had come to the bedside of an alluring boy!
Yet he looked so fragile, and smelled intoxicating; the way he held her was warm and inviting, his expression pure and harmless, making her feel no threat, even a little sleepy, with a blissful drowsiness rising in her mind.
"Put me to sleep before you leave... will you? I managed to put you to sleep last time... in the Great Hall..." Draco mumbled, completely lacking his usual mature and composed demeanour.
Instead, he spoke like a greedy little boy trying to bargain with her, as if he wanted a couple more sweets.
"All right, all right, Draco, how can you be so affectionate with me... I did not know you were so good at being affectionate..."
Hermione said helplessly.
She was worried that they would be seen by Madam Pomfrey; but she was also a little pleased because she had discovered another side of the weakened Draco that he could not hide in time... his affectionate side.
Perhaps none of the students at Hogwarts knew that beneath his aloof exterior lay a soul capable of being affectionate. She could not help but smile, and unconsciously nuzzled his shoulder.
"By the way... it is so late... how did Madam Pomfrey let you in..." He rubbed his chin against her head contentedly, asking her in a daze amidst the faint fragrance.
"I do not understand either... She did not make things difficult for me at all..." she said, bewildered, and involuntarily yawned. "Sometimes, she is actually quite easy to talk to..."
"Very good... very good..." he murmured, drifting into a sweet dream without darkness as she gently and intermittently caressed him.
Madam Pomfrey, who habitually gave preferential treatment to couples she considered sweethearts: keeping her kindness discreet.
Hermione Granger was half asleep in the dim light of dawn.
She wanted to turn over as usual and continue sleeping a little longer, but she felt restricted.
She frowned, opened her eyes crossly, wanting to see what was so audacious as to restrict her movements, but suddenly discovered a thin, pale face.
It is Draco.
His thick eyelashes covered his grey eyes, and his light pink lips were slightly parted, his soft breath brushing against her nose and forehead.
Oh, it is him.
Relieved, she closed her eyes again. She nuzzled his neck, sniffed happily, sighed contentedly, and went back to sleep.
However, as the light outside the window brightened, her mind gradually awakened.
In the instant she fully regained consciousness, her thoughts suddenly exploded, leaving a complete blank.
Good heavens! Draco?!
The girl's heart stopped beating completely, and her ears were ringing.
She opened her eyes and moved her head with difficulty and quietness, only to find that he had grabbed a large handful of her curly hair, holding it tightly, like Crookshanks stubbornly holding onto a ball of yarn.
It was only then that she realised what had happened.
She had been putting him to sleep in the hospital bed the night before, and inexplicably, she had also fallen asleep and had not woken until now.
And... she gently shifted her body and immediately discovered that his arms were tightly wrapped around her.
Good heavens! He had held her all night while they slept!
Hermione's face flushed red. She stammered, her head spinning. What should she do? Should she run away? But her hair... was still firmly in his grasp!
She swallowed hard, unable to resist stealing a glance at him to see whether he was awake. The candle in the wall lamp niche had gone out, and by the light from the window, she saw a smile on his lips, as if he were immersed in a sweet dream.
Thankfully, he had not woken!
Then she started to worry about him... had he slept well the night before?
At least, judging from his current expression, he did not seem to have been adversely affected by those wretched Dementors. She tried to calm her wildly beating heart while reassuring herself.
Wait, now is not the time to think about that! She told herself she had to sneak back quickly!
It took her about ten minutes to painstakingly pull her hair out of his hands, strand by strand. Then, she painstakingly replaced herself with a spare pillow from the bed next and tucked it into his arms so that he could continue to hold something properly, lest he start whining and grumbling in his sleep again.
Finally, the flustered girl narrowly escaped the boy's bedside.
Before Madam Pomfrey came to make her rounds, she grabbed her shoes and, at dawn, tiptoed out of the Hospital Wing like someone returning from the Forbidden Forest with Crookshanks, her face full of guilt.
That morning, Madam Pomfrey allowed more visitors in.
The Slytherin Quidditch team members were all there: Keeper Miles Bletchley, Beaters Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole, Chasers Cassius Warrington and Graham Montague, and a beaming Marcus Flint, who were all talking about Draco's last save.
"Besides being a Seeker, you could also make a great Chaser," Warrington said, nodding to Draco.
"That dive was absolutely brilliant!" Derrick exclaimed in admiration. "That was the best Wronski Feint I have ever seen!"
Draco smiled faintly at them, but inwardly he wondered: When had Hermione slipped away? And who had given him that large pillow when he woke that morning?
He had made such a capricious and unrestrained demand the night before, even going a bit too far.
How could she have agreed so easily? She... will not be angry, will she?
"Although the purpose is not so wonderful..." Marcus said loudly and defiantly. His noise earned him glares from the Gryffindor players gathered next door.
Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor house team, almost rushed up to fight Marcus, but was held back by the Weasley twins, one on each side.
Madam Pomfrey came running at the sound, exclaiming dramatically, "Time is up! Out you go! The patients need plenty of rest; you should not disturb them for too long!"
Draco was completely baffled by her. Had she not been quite friendly to Hermione the day before?
However, perhaps Madam Pomfrey was right this time... Harry looked rather listless.
"I am sorry about the Dementors, and about your broom," Draco said when they were alone in the ward.
"It was not your fault, you saved me." Harry stared blankly at the ceiling of the hospital room. "I still owe you a thank you."
Draco fell silent for a moment.
No, Harry does not owe him anything; he owes seventeen-year-old Harry a thank you.
However, Draco did not regret catching the Snitch.
He was a Slytherin, not some overly modest hypocrite; he had his own honour to protect.
"As I fell, I heard my mother's voice again," Harry said abruptly. "More of what she said... what she said before Voldemort killed her."
Draco turned to look at Harry in surprise. He had not expected Harry to bring this up at this moment.
"I am sorry about that," he said softly.
"She said three sentences this time. She was trying to protect me," Harry said, smiling bitterly and wiping his eyes. "You were right before, she loves me. If not for..."
If it were not for Voldemort, how happy he would be. Draco guessed that Harry wanted to say something similar.
He saw Harry turn his head to the side, and he guessed that Harry was crying.
"Harry, she will be so proud of you," Draco said urgently. "You almost conjured your Patronus, I saw it."
"Thank you." After a pause, Harry said somberly, "You are the first student I have seen faint from a Dementor attack, just like me. You were unconscious all yesterday afternoon. Did you have some terrible memories?"
Could it be worse than the moment of one's parents' death?
Harry looked out at the wind and rain, thinking he was probably overthinking it. What terrible memories could a child like Draco, who was loved by his parents, possibly have?
"Yes, it was terrible," Draco said with a grim face.
Harry turned and looked at him in surprise. He had not expected Draco to say that.
He had assumed Draco would continue to deny the question with a cold expression.
No boy is happy to admit his vulnerability, especially a boy like Draco Malfoy who has pride ingrained in his bones.
"What was it?" Harry could not help but ask.
"I am sorry, I cannot tell you. It is too bad, so bad that I cannot even say it." Draco's voice dropped. "All I can say is, it is very, very, very bad."
Harry saw a kind of sadness and vulnerability in his face, even a deep-seated pain.
These kinds of emotions should not appear on the face of a boy like Draco Malfoy who has everything going his way, but they did appear nonetheless, and they were so genuine.
At one point, Harry inexplicably believed him.
Draco may have experienced something very painful.
Although this perception was absurd and unrealistic, he seemed to be able to sense the despondency in the boy beside him.
Because Harry had seen that same expression on his own face when he had looked into the Mirror of Erised.
Harry seemed to be in a much better mood on Monday morning as they rushed from the Hospital Wing to the Great Hall for lunch.
When a friend has gone through the same thing as you, you realise that you are not alone in this difficult, arduous, and even terrifying experience.
This may be another kind of understanding and companionship between friends