Bride of the HP Dragon

What wonderful power makes us shine like the stars?

Is it the belief in seeing what gives us this power?

——Komi Frog "The Home of the Rainbow" (Note: A classic song sung by Komi Frog from Sesame Street, a well-known American children's program)

Friday evening.

At [-]:[-] in the morning, Hermione put on her house slippers and Harry's Invisibility Cloak and slipped out of her room.

The professors were also on the patrol list at Hogwarts, as they had been during Hermione's second year in the Chamber of Secrets, and Professor McGonagall had apparently volunteered to patrol the corridors around Gryffindor House.

Hermione sincerely hoped that the Vice-Headmaster was on duty at the moment, so it would be easier to sneak past her than face a young, agile, highly trained Oro, no offense to Minova McGonagall.

Getting caught sneaking around the castle at night would be the trigger for a bunch of trouble none of them wanted to see, Oro didn't want it, the professor didn't want it and Hermione didn't want it, not to mention she had to keep Harry's precious cloak safe No worries.

It's always when you're trying to keep quiet that you notice the old creaking noise of floors, doors and hinges.Maybe Malfoy was right, maybe she lacked the talent for night travel.But her house slippers did a good job of masking footsteps, and all Hermione had to do was look around every corner to check where the patrols were.

When she reached the ground floor, she found three Oros one corridor away from the infirmary.

Unfortunately, when she got there, she saw Professor Snape immediately appear at the open door of the hospital wing.He stared into the darkness, his expression almost eager to try.

Hermione frowned.

Honestly, it seems human nature to be skeptical.

This bastard.

Days felt like years while waiting, but maybe only about 10 minutes passed.Her right foot started to cramp, and even a potions master has to go to the bathroom sometimes, doesn't he?

Miracle of miracles, Hagrid appeared at the other end of the corridor, a huge man carrying a dimly glowing oil lamp.He greeted Snape, who received a sneer as expected, and the Potions Master took a break from his post to talk to the school janitor.

Hermione took her chance, sprinting the remaining distance and slipping into the infirmary.At night, the lights are soft, and the medical wing is a long, empty room, and it doesn't smell like unpleasant disinfectant.Hermione thought the place must be more cheerful during the day.

When she first sneaked out of Gryffindor to meet Draco at the Owl House, she didn't feel any excitement or nervousness.What she does, the danger is close at hand, and the joy is not left.

Except for the bed near the window which is surrounded by curtains, everything else is empty.A pair of black school shoes lay casually under the bed, and she noticed that the nightstand was devoid of the chocolates, flowers, and card decorations that Harry was accustomed to.

Maybe Slytherin didn't have the habit of feeding a sick person lots of candy in an attempt to get him or her back to speed.

The thought is inexplicably sad.

After checking that Snape hadn't returned, Hermione parted the curtains, so she wouldn't be seen.

Just one look, she told herself.

She took off the Invisibility Cloak and threw it on the bedside table, and Malfoy was lying on his stomach in bed, one hand by his face, fingers curled.Some ointment was applied to the right side of his head, and he looked very young in a state of complete relaxation.

There was a gash on his brow that had healed magically.The wound was red and swollen, but aside from that, he looked fine.He was wearing a hospital gown, but the buttons on his top were all messed up, making Hermione very suspicious that he insisted on changing his clothes himself, because he didn't want anyone to be suspicious because of the tattoo on his back.

There was a pillow on the bed, which he had squeezed into a ball just to sleep more fully.Lightweight sheets are also standard and have been thrown to the floor.His feet were bare, and his right foot was hanging over the edge of the bed.

He does have a pair of charming feet.

Well, she had seen it, but now that she was here, she noticed that he was cold.

She made sure that when she bent over to pick up the sheet, the curtains were again intact around the perimeter of the bed.When she squatted down, she picked up his shoes and arranged them neatly in the corner.When Hermione stood up again, she was taken aback.The hand that was calmly placed on the side of his face was lifted up and lightly brushed her cheek.

Draco woke up, looking at her with the most vulnerable and worried expression on his face.She felt her breath constricting inexplicably in her chest.

"I can't find him anywhere." His voice sounded close to tears.His eyes were half-closed and his voice was muffled.Hermione relaxed a little when she realized he was completely unconscious.

"If I call him, he will come."

Hermione covered him with the quilt, then hesitated for a moment, reached out and took his hand: "Who can't you find, Draco?"

"Brown shaggy fur, smelling like a stinking pond," he smiled sadly at the memory: "followed me home from the village one day."

He was talking about a pet that had been lost for years, and Hermione realized that the dog obviously meant a lot to him.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she really did, because she knew she was getting a glimpse of some extreme privacy right now, and he was going to hate himself for telling her.

"Dizzy." He licked his lips, a loud moan rolled in his throat, and Hermione resisted the urge to comfort him.Snape had only to poke his head in to detect her presence.

"Would you like a glass of water?" she asked.

He squinted at her, and Hermione figured he might be starting to realize where they were and who they were.

"Granger?"

"Yes, it's me, Hermione. I slipped out of the dormitory to see you," she added in case he tried to speak up.

"Hermione..."

She had to grin, he had trouble pronouncing her name, it was only the third try.Still, a little worse than poor Krum.

"I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Knew you'd be back." He nodded, grinning like a four-year-old who just learned that Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny were real, throwing loads of presents into the street.

"The other Granger, she doesn't like me very much. Fortunately, I am a person who wakes up easily. If the banshee dares, come and destroy me."

Hermione's eyes widened, his eyes were clearly lost, and his concussion must have been worse than Ron had described.

But the handshake felt pretty good, and his was dry and warm, unusual for a boy his age.As a rule of thumb, boys always have sweaty palms.

"I'll see how you're doing."

"Scary," he said, and Hermione guessed maybe he'd said "scary" at first, but had changed his mind.

"You took a big risk today to help that boy and everyone is talking about it."

He closed his eyes and smiled smugly at her, unbelievably lovable: "Tadpole's a bad thing, this big guy should have a little brains when doing things, but he is a good person."

She laughs, then winces because it's too loud: "You might like to hear Dodds sing about your deeds all day long."

He waved his hand contemptuously, and the gesture nearly made him fall off the bed, and Hermione hugged his shoulders and told him to sit still.

"Bah! It doesn't do me any good. There are people who hate me so much they want to set me up. The list is long, you know... a lot of them. Are you listening, Hermione?"

"I'm listening." She sat on the edge of the bed emphatically.

"I got a headache. I ruined my face and they told me you wouldn't even look at it," he continued.

Hermione pushed aside the doubts that had arisen over that small but priceless confession.She straightened his collar that was under his clothes: "In any case, you both survived, and I promise, your good looks are not damaged at all."

"Pfft," he blew away his forehead hair, "Granger thinks I'm disgusting, she won't talk to me, won't touch me, won't let me sleep even if we're married. That's it, right?"

Her eyes widen, the boy is playing beyond his reach: "I think so."

Malfoy couldn't seem to keep his eyes on her, he frowned, dazed, laughed and told her not to be two because it made him dizzy.

"Oh." He moaned.

She sympathized: "Quiet, close your eyes."

Nothing was easy for Draco, not even visiting the sick.It doesn't seem normal that no one cares, someone somewhere doesn't care what he's doing, isn't on his way to violating the curfew to peek at him.

"Kay," he said capriciously, "will you stay?"

"Yes."

"Sleep with me?"

"I can not."

"Can you, there's a place here, see?"

She didn't know what he wanted her to see, he didn't even move an inch.

When Hermione took off her shoes and crawled into bed, she thought she was temporarily insane.There was no room and she had to push Malfoy to the left because it was obvious he wouldn't make room for himself.He smelled strongly of camphor and ointment, overpowering his usual natural scent, which she didn't like.

"This is crazy, if I get caught I'll drag you down." She spread the sheet evenly over them both.

Malfoy was still smirking: "Kay," he said, resting his chin on her forehead, "we should do this more often."

He spoke as if they were having tea and biscuits.

Hermione lay in his arms, her head on his chest, her legs entwined around his, and was alert to the fact that she could go to sleep right now, given the chance.

The key to the cure for insomnia was apparently being huddled with a drugged Draco Malfoy, who happened to smell ten times worse than Vickers' cold and nose lotion.

"Tell that goblin I'm sorry for hitting her in the bathroom. You'll do that, won't you, Hermione? Tell her?" He rubbed his nose against her neck.

"The Banshee heard the apology." That was all Hermione could say.The memory was still too vivid, and she wasn't sure she was ready to face a cold, drug-free Draco Malfoy.

"I don't want to hurt her," he insisted gravely.

Hermione tilted her head to look at him, and he took the opportunity to brush his lips against the tip of her nose.The simple touch made her dizzy.He was squinting at her freckles, and it was too dark for his changing eyes, but she'd bet they were wide open.

"You'd hurt her, she's not stupid," Hermione finally managed to say.

She is sensible, obviously she regards herself as a bystander...

"For her own good, girls don't have to be too smart. Think less and be more sexy," Draco said wisely, "I should put that on a T-shirt."

"You'd do that." Hermione prodded his head with her finger, trying to get a closer look at whether his repulsive brain had been permanently damaged.

"It feels good." His fingers brushed the soft skin of her buttocks, and she could imagine the dragon tattoo stretching across the skin, longing for his hand.

It's strange, this feeling is not unfamiliar at all, it's just novelty.

"You're wearing this T-shirt again," he said, looking sleepily at her bosom, the way Harry realized he wasn't wearing glasses in the morning: "There's a little frog named Kevin on it."

"Comy," she corrects, laughing into the crook of his neck, without even realizing she's wearing the same T-shirt.

"So, you're going to tell me what the Rainbow Home is? Or maybe this Muggle top secret might not be understood by my poor magical brain?" The irritability in his tone reminded Hermione that even with ointments, Taking sleeping pills, wearing a hospital gown, and clasping his hands, with the same Draco beside him.

She hesitated, anticipating the direction of the topic: "Well, that's the song it sang."

"Very good, sing it to me."

"No, Malfoy. I'm not even supposed to be here, remember?"

He fell silent, in disbelief, and Hermione wondered if he was really depressed.

God!

She rolled her eyes and suddenly felt sorry for him, but Hermione was not a soft-hearted person: "If I sing to you, will you sleep well?"

His other hand came awkwardly over to touch her cheek, and she assumed he meant 'Yes, thanks, that would be fine. '

She didn't want to look at him again, there was so much strong and unguarded emotion in his face, she felt again a bystander intervening in some private moment.

"Ok."

She sang out of tune, for she was not good at it, and spoke softly, but he listened without complaint.

When Hermione sang the last note, she thought he was about to fall asleep, but he didn't. He slid his hand into the edge of her T-shirt, put his hand on her belly and pressed it gently for a while, and slowly fell asleep. He slid up to her chest and took hold of her left breast.

He put his nose against her cheek and took a deep breath of her breath.His thumb fumbled at the apex casually under the T-shirt.It happened completely naturally, as if he had done it to her a hundred times.Nothing to count, just the need to calm the craving.

She was almost water, in Malfoy's hospital bed, she melted into a fountain of sensitive and relaxed flesh.

Hermione swayed, his breath against the side of her neck, revealing that he had fallen into therapeutic sleep.She could hardly think of a more comfortable and safe time in this regard, and that meant something special.

It's nice to fall asleep with someone you care about, no matter where the hell you're from, no matter what the hell is going on in the world.

This is so perfect, it has to be perfect.

She closed her eyes, just for a minute, she told herself, just wait until he was sure he was asleep.

The sun hadn't risen when Hermione opened her eyes, and it took her a while to get rid of the deep sleepiness, get out of bed as usual, and get dressed within 10 minutes, but this time, she seemed to be that Rip Van Winkle of Nanke Yimeng. (Note: "Rip van Winkle" (English: Rip van Winkle) is a short story written by the 19th-century American novelist Washington Irving. The protagonist has slept for 20 years, and the world has changed when he wakes up.)

Malfoy wrapped around her like a roll of plastic wrap, his lanky frame filling every inch of the bed.There was no room on the bed, he just put his arms around her.Not surprisingly, the sheet fell to the floor again.Hermione realized that she had been sleeping on his right arm most of the night, and she moved away to get out of his embrace.

He was in a deep sleep.

It wasn't until she was about to carefully move her foot off the bed and sit up that she noticed that Pansy Parkinson was standing at the foot of the bed holding a bouquet of daffodils, and the hospital wing was still dark.

"Good morning," said the Slytherin girl coldly.

Hermione pushed her hair away from her face and stood up, her scrunchies gone out of nowhere: "Pansy."

"I'll see if he's better, and I'll save myself the trouble knowing he's being looked after properly." Her voice was sharp, her jaw clenched, and Hermione noticed her grip that bouquet.

Well, this has become a scandalous news, and Harry will definitely boil and disinfect his Invisibility Cloak after he finds out: "I think I can explain." Hermione stammered.

There was clearly only one explanation for what Pansy saw, no need to sugar coat it.Hermione wasn't going to insult the girl's intelligence with false denials.

"No need." Pansy smiled, exactly the same kind of smile that Ron specifically called "the corner of his mouth," because there was nothing friendly in it: "I guess he's got a new one lately." toys, but I didn't expect it to be you."

Toy?Hermione thought it was a good label, a toy better than "love longing" which would torture him.

"Don't worry," Pansy snorted. "I won't tell anyone. He's busy enough trying to maintain his...reputation."

Hermione crossed her arms, remembering that they both kept their voices down so as not to wake Draco.Pansy's feelings for Draco were no secret, but Hermione was only beginning to realize how deep it was.

"What do you mean?"

Pansy sneered at her: "Stop being pretentious, it's not for you, you know the importance of reputation. You know, if this thing gets out, you won't be intact."

"I didn't ask you to keep this bloody secret, Parkinson," Hermione retorted. "For Draco's own sake, I'd be glad if you chose not to tell anyone. But you don't have to do me a favor."

"Then do me a favor," Pansy pushed the flowers into Hermione's hands, "give him these. He looks like he'll take anything you offer. Make sure you're there before Madam Pomfrey's six o'clock rounds." already left."

After saying this, Pansy took one last look at the sleeping Draco and walked out of the hospital wing.