Chapter 125: The Dictionary of Demonic Script
The turmoil stemming from Krum, Hermione, and Draco didn't last long.
Admittedly, when students discuss their dance partners, they might occasionally jokingly mention them in the conversation, but there are always newer gossips accompanying the rising sun.
Aside from the parties involved, who would cling to that tiny bit of old gossip forever?
The first day of the Christmas holidays was a sunny Saturday. In the early morning, Hermione woke up to find Lavender and Parvati whispering behind the curtains of their four-poster bed about their new dance partners.
"Yesterday, someone else invited Fleur Delacour but failed miserably," Parvati said. "It was someone from our academy. Guess who it was?"
"I know. It's Ron!" Lavender said. "I saw him sitting in the common room—pale, terrified, like he was possessed."
Parvati burst into a series of giggles. "Pretty embarrassing, isn't it?"
"It's alright, I think it's quite cute," Lavender said with a grin. "These days, how many boys would dare to loudly invite a girl to dance in front of everyone—in a busy hallway? I admire his courage."
"Cute? I still think Cedric the Hero of Hufflepuff is cuter. So, who did he invite?"
"How would I know any of that?" Lavender said cheerfully. "All I know is that our Gryffindor champions have invited you! What did I tell you before? You're sure to be in the center of the dance floor for the opening dance!"
"Don't be too high-profile, Lavender, I have to keep a low profile…" Parvati said with a chuckle.
"Hey, who do you think Krum's dance partner is?" Lavender asked in a low voice.
"Oh—Hermione, who are you going to the ball with?" Parvati lifted the curtain, trying to get some information out of the girls next door and satisfy their gossipy nature.
However, the bed next to theirs was empty.
"Look at her! She runs faster than a rabbit!" Parvati said, pursing her lips. "I really don't know why Krum invited her! She's probably laughing in her sleep tonight! She'll definitely want to go to the ball with Krum."
"Oh, I'm not sure about that. I heard yesterday that Krum's dance partner position is still vacant," Lavender said, glancing at Hermione's empty bed.
"I guess Krum gave up on inviting Hermione. I always said it was just a fleeting moment; he probably acted on impulse," Parvati said. "It can't be Hermione who rejected him—who could refuse Krum?"
"That makes sense," Lavender said doubtfully, recalling the Slytherin boy's frequent glances at Hermione during Potions class, and Hermione's stiff neck and extremely concerned expression.
"This means that Krum's admirers still have a chance," Parvati said with interest. "My sister Padma is planning a chance encounter with Krum. Do you have any ideas?"
"Did you run into him in the library?" Lavender asked.
"No, by the Black Lake," Parvati said. "Krum has been taking walks by the Black Lake lately."
Indeed, Krum seemed to have given up on reading—the library returned to its usual quiet—which relieved Hermione Granger as she wandered among the bookshelves.
The library was deserted, save for the soft sound of Mrs. Pince dusting herself with a feather duster drifting from some unknown corner. Hermione, inhaling the scent of parchment among the bookshelves, finally found peace of mind.
Throughout Hogwarts, few students were eager to rush to the library on the first morning of the Christmas holidays. Most students were making the most of the last week before the Christmas Ball, wandering around every corner of Hogwarts Castle, trying to find themselves a dance partner.
This means that, at this moment and in this place, finally nothing and no one can disturb her academic pursuits.
Make sure to finish your arduous ancient runes assignment in one go, sitting in your favorite window seat!
I will never think about that bad boy who is so intrusive, so controlling, and so irresistible that girls line up to get hurt! The girl clenched her fists as she searched for study guides on the bookshelf, making this grand vow.
So Hermione searched and searched, until she reached the corner of the bookshelf. She swayed from side to side, tiptoeing, trying to reach the huge book on the shelf above her head, titled "The Dictionary of Runes."
Suddenly, a shadow carrying the scent of cedar quietly enveloped her.
A slender hand snatched the book from a slightly higher position.
The owner of the hand spoke. His languid voice carried a slight smile: "This one?"
The sound made Hermione freeze.
With mixed feelings in her heart, she turned around stiffly, and what came into view was a head of dazzling platinum blonde hair, slightly smiling eyes, and light red lips that belonged to a young man.
His lips curved into a smile, releasing an irresistible allure that she might find hard to resist.
"How did you know I was here?" Hermione asked in a panic, looking away and trying to slip away, but the boy suddenly blocked her way with his arms on either side of the bookshelf.
"If you're not here, where else could you be?" He seemed to have a hidden meaning in his words, his voice extremely calm.
Hermione was very uneasy. She checked his arms from side to side, and realizing she had no way out, she had no choice but to face his bright, warm gray eyes that were fixed on her.
"Move aside, Draco," Hermione said sternly, her back stiffening against the bookshelf as she realized she was being stared at by those eyes.
Please, Draco, don't come near me like that, don't look me in the eyes...
Otherwise, I won't be able to keep a straight face...
My hopeless liking for you... I probably can't hide it anymore. She cried out in her heart.
"No." He refused to move aside, his gaze piercing.
He was incredibly cruel, stubbornly holding onto her eyes with his pure, translucent ones, trying to lock her soul in and force out her feelings.
She couldn't reveal her feelings! Otherwise, she'd end up like those girls, getting hurt mercilessly by him. Hermione silently warned herself.
She sighed, and with great self-control, managed to pull her wandering eyes away from his gaze, letting them drift to his pointed chin, and finally managed to find her voice again.
"What—what do you want to do?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"I'm pretty sure you're avoiding me." He lowered his head slightly and spoke to her, enunciating each word clearly.
His breath was like a gentle breeze, brushing against the fine downy hairs on her cheeks, making her feel a ticklish sensation.
Draco frowned slightly, watching her rapidly fluttering eyelashes, and asked resolutely, "Tell me, why?"
"I—I didn't—I wasn't hiding from you." Hermione shook her head in denial, unsure of where to put her hands.
This cruelly charming young man was so close to her. So close that she could fall into his arms at any moment. His arms were practically encircling her.
The most terrifying thing is that you can feel some kind of undercurrent of attraction in every pore of her body.
It seemed as if his arms and chest were releasing a positive magnetic force towards her, the negative pole; and she was trying hard to control herself, not to be suddenly sucked away by him like a useless refrigerator magnet.
Hermione frantically stroked the row of upright books on the bookshelf behind her. This action did little to reduce the electric current surging through her body and mind; instead, it made her electrocardiogram fluctuate wildly, just like the uneven rows of books.
"Nonsense." His pointed chin bobbed up and down, drawing movement to his alluring lips. "Since last Thursday, you haven't said a proper word to me, and you pretend not to see me when you do. You're not partnered with me in Potions class anymore, and you sit far away from me—"
Draco felt uneasy.
Things shouldn't be like this—it's completely different from what he envisioned.
She's his dance partner, isn't she? Shouldn't they be like those people who have dance partners, finding an empty classroom to practice dancing instead of ignoring each other and bickering like this?
"I—I apologize to you, okay?" he said sincerely. "I shouldn't have rejected him for you. I—acted impulsively at the time."
"Oh. Okay," she said dismissively, without looking up.
"What did I do wrong? Did I upset you? You can tell me directly," he asked anxiously.
"It's nothing, I just—" she still didn't dare to look up, and said in a muffled voice, "I haven't figured out some things."
"What is it?" Draco asked, his tone softening with concern.
"It's just—something." Hermione was so distracted by the cedar scent emanating from him that her answer became increasingly perfunctory. She needed to find a way out before revealing her true intentions.
For Draco, the girl's evasive manner stirred up a surge of anger within him.
He should have treated her more gently and calmly; he didn't want to be rough with her. But at this moment, the feeling of his pride being hurt was too intense, along with a faint sense of panic—he seemed to have lost his grasp on her thoughts.
Her thoughts seemed to drift further and further away from him. She seemed to want to hide herself away from him.
"I don't like your attitude. Why won't you even look me in the eye?" Draco's spoiled temper was ignited by this disregard, and he finally lost all his gentlemanly manners.
"Lift your head and look at me!" he said angrily, pinching her chin with one hand and forcibly lifting her face—the two finally met eyes.
Hermione Granger! You're right in front of me, where do you think you're going? You're not getting away! His inner voice roared.
Their eyes met unexpectedly. Hermione's breath caught in her throat.
She could hear her own heartbeat—it was simply illogical.
She saw his eyelashes clearly, and the burning gaze beneath them. Those usually indifferent eyes held a hint of anger, and a deep scrutiny.
He was studying her eyes; he was analyzing every single component within them.
"It's all over," Hermione lamented inwardly. Was her affection for him about to be exposed?
In Draco's eyes, the girl's gentle pupils were completely visible. His own face was reflected in them.
Then he noticed that a thin, misty blush suddenly appeared on her fair, translucent face, just like the apple he had just eaten, with a rare and alluring color.
They looked at each other in silence.
Draco had already planned to talk to Hermione as soon as possible and practice dancing with her.
As dance partners, they need to be familiar with each other's bodies and rhythms, right?
But the moment the living, breathing Hermione Granger stood before him, his mind went blank. The string snapped.
For days, he had longed to be closer to her, but she remained elusive and unpredictable; now, trapped in his arms, she could no longer ignore him.
He was finally able to look at her properly, at the girl who always tried to hide herself.
Look at how thick and long her eyelashes are, look at the subtle golden shimmer they gleam with. Look at those chocolate-colored eyes, look at the captivating warmth within them.
Yes, he was in her eyes.
There was a hidden emotion in those eyes, but what was it? He could only be sure that it wasn't dislike.
His hands felt slightly itchy. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and a few glossy, slightly wavy strands fell down from the side of her face, scratching at the hand that was supporting her chin.
He caught a pleasant scent. It emanated unhindered from her face, her hair, and her breath.
The taste ignited a burning hunger in his stomach. It was as if the apple he had just devoured had vanished in an instant.
He suddenly had a crazy urge to bite something, taste something, swallow something, he wanted it immediately.
Draco hesitated. Perhaps he should let her go immediately—before he lost control—let go of this girl who held a fatal attraction for him.
But the worst part was that, without anyone noticing, one of her hands grabbed the lapel of his shirt and pressed against his heart.
The girl's hand gripped his tightly. It gave him the illusion that she was also holding his heart in her hand. This illusion pounded in his ventricles, his blood gushing and roaring.
Draco moved his lips, trying to say something to her to regain his senses.
But this insane girl! She did the worst thing she could have done at that moment—she suddenly parted her red lips slightly, and just like in countless dreams, gazed at him with shining eyes, showing him an expression of complete surrender.
Who wouldn't be bewitched by her?
Finally, he forgot reality and abandoned reason. His hand broke free from the control of his central nervous system and, as if sleepwalking, slid from her chin to the back of her head, lifting her slender neck.
She let him hold her, with nowhere to escape. She seemed to have no intention of running away at all. She stared at him innocently and bewilderedly, her cheeks slightly flushed, as if wondering what he planned to do with her next.
So he tilted his head slightly and kissed her, his heart fluttering.
Kissed her.
It is a touch as gentle as the wind, and a blow as powerful as a raging storm.
It was like the explosion of a planet, but the explosion didn't happen in the universe; it happened within their own hearts.
Hermione stared in shock at the boy in front of her.
Draco.
Draco is kissing her.
A faint blush rose to his cheeks, his platinum blonde hair cascaded down his brows, and his eyes shimmered with a fragile, yearning light.
Why did he kiss her? Is that something friends should do?
Amidst her pounding heartbeat, those alluring lips kissed her, touching her gently, delicately, and tenderly.
Draco jolted awake. This wasn't a dream. The sensation was too real. He had truly kissed her, and he didn't even know if she was willing.
He shouldn't have done that.
His lips slowly retreated, his eyes fixed on her anxiously, his warm breath lingering on her nose.
How would she react? Would she be angry? Would she hit him? Draco forced himself away from her soft, heart-melting lips, gazing sadly into her star-studded eyes, thinking dejectedly that whatever she did to him next, he would accept it willingly.
Hermione was utterly bewildered, and a sense of loss washed over her. She disliked the unsettling sadness in his eyes, and she didn't want his lips to leave so soon.
Reluctant to let go of the warm, soft, and fresh touch of his lips, she succumbed to a sudden impulse. She tilted her head slightly and, bewildered, touched his lips with her own.
This slight touch became a meaningful attempt to hold on. For the restless boy who was desperately suppressing himself, it was an affirmation, an encouragement, and the door that had been opened for him.
Draco could no longer suppress his emotions.
Merlin, she was returning his kiss. She didn't reject him. She was welcoming him.
Amidst his pounding heart, a surge of ecstasy rose within him. He tightened his grip on the hand that had been supporting the back of her head and kissed her again with a fierce intensity.
He found her. She was soft, sweet, and dreamlike. He took her in his mouth, trying to devour the sweetest dream he loved most.
Hermione was mesmerized. He no longer hesitated or tested her; instead, he pressed on aggressively. Shyness closed her eyes; her eyelashes trembled as she lost herself in the pure, vast starry sky that mirrored his presence.
In the silent universe, they kissed, oblivious to everyone around them. In the desolate library, before the parchment-scented bookshelves, under the warm sunlight, in the darkness before their eyes, amidst the fireworks of their minds.
The darkness amplified the senses of touch and perception. He kissed her tenderly and gently, softly yet firmly trying to open her up. He used the wondrous language of his lips and tongue to tell her that she need not be afraid.
I want to know you. To know you more. His lips touched hers patiently, one light touch at a time, conveying his thoughts.
She was at a loss. He touched her and licked her like a cunning little beast, causing her to gasp nervously and inadvertently open her bewildered lips.
I want to comfort you. To comfort your broken heart. His lips whispered, "I will treat you gently."
She believed it. She opened herself up without any defenses, indulging in his softness and agility, experiencing the intertwined sensations of moisture and warmth. He was as gentle as ever, yet also possessed an unexpected intensity.
Draco's envisioned dance practice finally came to fruition: they tossed and turned in the hazy air, dancing a dance of lips and tongues intertwined.
A dance both quiet and intense. Gradually, it became increasingly aggressive. She was being sucked, plundered, and crushed… She was surrounded by him.
She trembled, terribly shy. In his kiss, she was astonished to discover—Pee-Pee was right—he seemed to want to devour her whole.
Should she escape this terrifying ordeal? Her heart was pounding even harder.
He had exhausted all her strength. Her legs began to weaken uncontrollably, and her body slid down the bookshelf against her will.
She wanted to escape.
Draco didn't give her a chance to escape. He threw away the dictionary and precisely locked her sliding waist with his arm—just like he had done it a thousand times in his dreams—so that the girl was completely embedded in his arms.
Like the positive and negative poles of a magnet finally finding each other, Hermione nestled into his arms, finding the ultimate answer to those inexplicable electric currents. That current struck their souls the instant they pressed together.
*Thud!* The "Dictionary of Magical Script" landed heavily on the carpet, striking her heart.
Fine dust from the books swirled around their feet. It danced and fluttered like the dust of fairies, possessing the power to make mortals forever bask in love.
In the embrace, the scent of cedarwood completely enveloped her, like an invisible, warm cage; and she was the fledgling he had captured, held firmly in his palm.
Hermione had no idea how things had turned out this way. She had no time to think; she was only focused on instinctively hugging him back, wanting him to hold her even tighter.
In a hazy state, she heard him let out a satisfied sigh, followed by an even more passionate and tender kiss that made her brain go numb.
She herself hummed a strange and shameful sound from her nose, and she didn't know where it came from; all she knew was that after she made that sound, he held her tighter and kissed her more passionately.
Draco completely gave up resistance.
He gave up resisting this damned, intense, unreleased, burning love that made his whole body ache.
The moment their lips touched, the beast within him was awakened—it had been sealed away in the darkness of his heart and in his tender dreams, and it should never have come out.
But she released it effortlessly, using only one hand.
A hand that grips his heart could destroy everything—his forbearance, his repression, his self-control.
She even kissed him back—nothing could make him hesitate anymore.
So the beast indulged itself. It tasted the sweetest green apple in the world, and it no longer felt empty or hungry.
—————————This is the bookshelf on the left—————————
In the dark corner behind the bookshelf, Mrs. Pince, who had come rushing in after hearing the noise, stood there silently, mouth agape, yelling, "Aaaaaaahh ...
I'm so happy! Poppy, you can rest in peace. When it comes to watching couples get together on the spot, no one can beat me, the queen of sweet moments! Hahahaha...
Feather duster: Shall I leave?
—————————This is the bookshelf on the right—————————
Kissing, more kissing, the passage of time becomes blurred and uncertain.
They seemed to kiss for a very long time, long enough for all the dust to settle back down.
Draco could keep kissing her forever. If Hermione hadn't forgotten to breathe, he could have kissed her all day.
However, the girl eventually ran out of breath and began to weakly pound his chest.
He lingered, reluctant to part, and gently bit her lip before finally leaving.
That light bite elicited a delicate gasp from Hermione. Everything he did to her was so new and exciting that it made her feel hot all over.
The boy who had been so brazen with her was looking down at her, smiling like a handsome fool, as if he was about to kiss her again at any moment.
His lips seemed to be trying to get closer to her again. Hermione knew something was wrong. She was dizzy and trapped in his arms, with nowhere to retreat or escape.
She instinctively leaned back, trying to create a tiny distance between them; but his arm cunningly held her, as if intending to meld her into his very bones.
He lowered his head and gently inhaled her scent, his expression one of intoxication, dazedness, and insatiable desire. He seemed a little greedy—she finally understood what the "greed" in the song by Pippi the Ghost meant. So, before he could kiss her again, she hurriedly buried her face in his shoulder, hiding her burning lips and cheeks, avoiding his intensely passionate gaze.
At that moment, she caught the scent of cedar on his neck, and her limbs went weak again, almost causing her to collapse. He chuckled softly and patted her back contentedly, helping her catch her breath.
However, the kind hand that was meant to soothe her not only failed to help her, but actually made things worse. She felt like an oyster that had been shucked by him, being held and played with in his hand, and that he might turn it over and taste it at any moment.
"Draco, let me go—" Hermione nestled in his arms, finding her voice strangely soft. His touch sent shivers down her spine.
"No…" he said the word with lingering resonance, blowing into her ear.
"Please." Her ears were burning hot, and her face was so red it felt like it was about to bleed.
Draco sensed her unease and discomfort—had he gone too far?
He stopped what he was doing and asked softly, "Can you stand on your own?"
"Yes," she insisted, trembling slightly.
So he slowly released her, letting the blushing girl hold onto the bookshelf and catch her breath.
Once Hermione had caught her breath, she noticed Draco leaning against the bookshelf with one hand in his pocket, watching her motionless like a magnificent statue of a beautiful young boy.
He still had a smile on his lips, tilted his head, and stared intently at her as if she were a treasure.
She gave him a shy smile, then suddenly glanced at his lips and remembered what they had just done. She blinked, pursed her lips, and suddenly lost the ability to speak.
At that moment, he moved forward slightly, while Hermione took a step back.
"Don't be nervous, I just want to give you this book." The boy in front of her had bright eyes and handed her the book.
It's that book, "The Dictionary of Magical Script".
It watched her silently, as if giving her a silent smile.
Good heavens, she'll probably never be able to look at the "Dictionary of Magical Words" the same way again.
Hermione picked it up and felt it was a little hot.
"Well then, thank you for helping me with the book. I—I have to go now," she said, her face flushed and flustered.
"Wait—you haven't answered my question yet." Draco blocked Hermione's escape route by placing his hands on either side of the bookshelf. The other side of the passageway was a dead end, next to a huge floor-to-ceiling window.
"What's wrong?" she asked, taking a few steps back, still confused.
Draco chuckled inwardly. Her expression was like that of a rabbit unable to find its burrow. If she weren't so shy, he would have loved to grab her right there, wrap her around his arms, and tease her playfully.
No, she's already very nervous. Don't scare her. Banishing those chaotic thoughts, he coughed lightly and asked again, "Why were you avoiding me the past two days?"
"Oh, about that," Hermione said softly, glancing nervously at his bright red lips. "I've heard some rumors lately about you and Pansy Parkinson—"
"What?" Draco's expression turned comical.
He lowered his arms from the sides of the bookshelf, took two steps closer to her, and asked in surprise, "What do you think Pansy and I could have? You know, she and Blaise are a couple!"
"But I heard she cried in the Slytherin common room because of her dance partner." Hermione watched his approaching figure, remembering how tightly he had embraced her just moments before. Her face flushed even more.
"That's because she accidentally broke her most beloved porcelain piece and wailed in the common room for ages." Draco looked down at her, a sudden surge of pleasure in his heart, and said in a drawn-out tone, "I really don't know if those gossipers have brains full of frizzy snails."
"I see." Hermione's throat tightened slightly. She looked up at him and stammered, "And those girls who invited you—"
"I rejected them all." Draco raised an eyebrow and smiled. "So, you're jealous?"
"I don't agree with your definition. I'm just surprised!" Hermione's hands unconsciously doodled on the cover of the Dictionary of Spells as she stubbornly said, "I'm just—my mind is a mess."
"I understand. When I saw you being invited by Krum, my mind was a mess too. It's definitely not because I'm jealous." He couldn't help but reach out and smooth a stray strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear, and said, suppressing a laugh.
"I rejected him," Hermione blurted out, blushing to her ears and looking aggrieved. "I never intended to be with him—"
"I know. I was a little anxious at the time. I have to admit, I wasn't calm enough, but I never distrusted you. Anyway, I behaved terribly, and I have to apologize to you." He lowered his gaze slightly, unable to resist reaching out to straighten the wrinkled collar around her neck—a small mark left by the passionate kiss just now.
Hermione was having trouble breathing again.
What's wrong with Draco? His advances are too intense. He's getting close to her without any restraint. He's touching her more and more aggressively.
Before the kiss, they were still respectful friends. After the kiss, everything suddenly changed.
His expression remained as pure and innocent as ever, as if the intense kiss just moments before was merely her imagination. But Hermione couldn't ignore the deep gaze he gave her. It seemed as if he might pull her into his arms at any moment and taste her again.
That kiss briefly revealed a side of him that she had never known before. His passion and initiative, his greed and capriciousness. This was so different from his usual calm and composed demeanor that she was somewhat taken aback.
It wasn't that she disliked this side of him—she had almost succumbed to his advances. However, reason told her she needed to calm down—before being recaptured by this alluring cage.
Hermione steeled herself and nimbly slipped past him. Turning back to see his bewildered expression and his outstretched hand, she said seriously, "It's getting dark, I—I need to go back!"
Having said that, she clutched the "Dictionary of Magical Script" tightly in her arms and strode quickly through the bookshelves.
Draco glanced at the bright sun outside the window and decided not to remind her that it was still early.
Is she shy?
Draco leaned halfway out from behind the bookshelf, watching her flustered figure disappear into the distance. He called out to her retreating back, "So, we've made up?"
"Yes!" she said without turning her head.
"Stop hiding from me!" he shouted at her, raising his voice.
"Okay!" She ran out of the library at a breakneck pace—it was practically a hasty retreat