Draco vaguely remembered the golden hourglass hanging around Hermione's neck, though he couldn't immediately recall where he'd seen it before.
An object like that—unusual enough to draw attention, yet not particularly powerful—must have been a rather special magical tool.
What he hadn't expected, however, was to be called a pervert before he could even figure out what the thing did.
Not that it was the first time Hermione had accused him of that...
The air between them grew uncomfortably still.
Crookshanks calmly licked his paw.
Draco rubbed his chin in thought.
Facing Hermione's wary, defensive expression, Draco raised an eyebrow. It seemed clear she'd gotten the wrong idea. Then another realization hit him—she hadn't actually been asleep at all.
So...
"When exactly did you wake up?"
"...I don't know what you're talking about."
Hermione's eyes darted away, her voice small and unconvincing. Lying clearly wasn't her strong suit.
Her feigned confusion was enough of an answer in itself.
"Looks like you heard everything, then."
"...Not everything. Just a little."
At that, Hermione's face grew sheepish.
She had no idea what to do at first, but somewhere along the way, curiosity got the better of her, and she'd ended up listening far too intently to Draco's conversation.
In the end, she had eavesdropped—deliberately.
"Oh~?"
"..."
Draco leaned in suddenly, his silver eyes glinting with amusement, voice lilting in that way that always managed to annoy her.
Hermione instinctively backed up until her shoulders hit the wall. Too close!
Flustered and cornered, she reacted before thinking, her anger bubbling over.
"I... I haven't even asked—you! What were you trying to do just now?"
"What do you mean? I just wanted a closer look."
That calm, self-assured reply left Hermione blinking, momentarily speechless.
A closer look?
Here?
For a second, her stunned expression looked almost cute.
But the realization hit her all at once, and her brows shot up.
"You—!"
"This hourglass," Draco interrupted smoothly, "it's a magical artifact, isn't it?"
"Huh?! The hourglass?"
Hermione blinked in confusion, then glanced down at the small golden hourglass dangling from her neck. It must have slipped out of her collar while she was asleep.
Probably when she'd dozed off without noticing...
So Draco had only been looking at that, not—
Realization dawned, and Hermione's cheeks turned crimson in an instant.
She risked a glance at Draco.
Even as her face burned, seeing that faint, teasing smirk on his lips made her want to do only one thing—
Punch him.
Right in that smug, perfectly composed face.
Hermione, realizing she had misunderstood him, hugged Crookshanks tightly and pretended as though nothing had happened.
Yet, unexpectedly, she didn't run away either...
"So, Professor Lupin really is... a werewolf?" Her voice was muffled by the cat's fur, soft and uncertain.
Had Draco not been listening closely, he might have missed what she said entirely.
"If it were you, you'd have figured it out long ago, wouldn't you?"
His calm reply left Hermione unsure whether to smile or sigh.
He wasn't wrong. Snape's hints had been far too obvious—anyone who gave it proper thought could have sensed something strange.
But that was exactly the blind spot for most people. No wizard would have ever imagined that Dumbledore would allow a werewolf to teach at Hogwarts.
Even now, Hermione found it hard to believe.
"..."
"..."
Hermione buried her face deeper into Crookshanks' fur, deliberately avoiding Draco's gaze so he wouldn't see her expression.
Setting aside the question of whether Professor Lupin truly was a werewolf, she found her mind spinning. Maybe it was just too much information all at once, but her head felt strangely light.
She was conflicted. She had already decided to keep her distance from Draco, so why had things turned out like this again?
And worse—why had she fallen asleep on his shoulder just moments ago?
Still brooding over her own foolishness, Hermione suddenly felt Crookshanks swat her cheek impatiently with his tail.
Draco, on the other hand, found her troubled expression unexpectedly entertaining.
Soon, though, his gaze drifted back to the hourglass Hermione had tucked back beneath her robes.
Then it hit him.
He'd seen that hourglass somewhere before.
A Time-Turner...
...
Just as Draco began wondering where Hermione could have gotten such an item, her hesitant voice broke the quiet.
But oddly enough, her tone sounded... off.
"Why did you... Lockhart..."
"You mean, why am I still in contact with Lockhart?"
"Yeah... he tried to kill us. Isn't that dangerous for you?"
Hermione spoke without thinking.
Like Draco, she had seen firsthand what kind of man Lockhart really was. That manic, unhinged look in his eyes wasn't something one easily forgot.
But rather than dwell on Lockhart, Draco's attention was drawn to something else—Hermione's face.
Her cheeks were flushed an unnatural shade of red.
"Huh!?"
"Don't move."
Draco pressed a hand to her forehead. The moment his palm met her skin, Hermione's thoughts began to scatter, her breathing turning uneven.
When she tried to push him away, she realized her arms had lost their strength.
Then, everything went black.
Hermione slumped forward, collapsing straight into Draco's arms.
"This temperature... you're definitely sick."
"I'm not sick..."
"Quiet."
"Meow?"
Too weak to resist, Hermione could only close her eyes and focus on her unsteady breathing.
Through the haze of dizziness, she faintly realized she was being lifted.
Instinctively, her small body curled inward, seeking warmth.
The familiar scent surrounding her and the steady heat of his chest made her stop struggling entirely.
She must still be dreaming...