Malfoy leaned back and fell into Hermione's arms.
The sky was dark at this moment, with a few crows occasionally flying overhead and a gloomy wind howling past.
Everything was somewhat similar to Pansy's dream, yet ultimately different. There was no terrifying laughter from Voldemort.
A girl was running frantically across the grass. Because she was running so fast, her white nurse's cap accidentally fell from her head, and her long silver hair, which reached down to her waist, swayed behind her. She had no time to fix it. As she ran, she swept her hair to one side with her hand, tidied it up, and tied it into a ponytail for convenience.
It was Fleur Delacour, who had been working on the front lines, helping treat the wounded.
She rushed to the spot where Malfoy had fallen.
"Get out of the way!"
She impatiently pushed Hermione aside. For some reason, the moment she saw that Malfoy was injured, she became inexplicably irritable. Hermione was shoved aside and nearly fell.
Fleur quickly laid Malfoy flat on the grass. She then pried open his eyelids with her fingers, revealing eyes filled with unnaturally bright red blood vessels.
She took his arm and gently passed her wand over his body.
"He's been hit by a severe coma curse and a Petrification Curse," Fleur said.
"Was he hit by the Dark Lord just now?" she asked, turning to Hermione.
Hermione's face turned deathly pale.
The culprit was not Voldemort.
Fleur then noticed that her palms were slightly damp. She sniffed the air with her delicate nose and moved it slightly. A faint smell of blood rushed into her nostrils, and her keen sense of smell told her that the boy had suffered injuries far more serious than these.
Following the scent, she decisively tore open Malfoy's upper garment, revealing bright red blood soaking through the white bandages.
"Which idiot bandaged him? There are mistakes everywhere! Were they trying to cripple him?" Fleur said angrily.
Simply put, magical healing was extraordinarily effective against pure physical injuries.
To exaggerate only slightly, even if someone's hand were severed, it could still be reattached.
But when certain other problems arose, things became much more difficult.
For example, some magical curses and poisons.
Mad-Eye Moody's blindness had clearly been caused by a curse, making it irreversible. That was why he had needed the magical eye.
At this point, Fleur's memories had not yet returned, and she was looking at the problem purely from the perspective of a medical professional. Her words came out without the slightest restraint, and that was precisely why they sounded so ruthless.
The last trace of colour vanished completely from Hermione's face.
She began blaming herself intensely.
If he really was disabled, or…?
She did not dare think any further.
"This is troublesome. There's snake venom, too."
"Fortunately, he wasn't poisoned any more severely."
Fleur finally breathed a sigh of relief. Although Hermione's bandaging technique was mediocre, the White Essence and Phoenix Tears she had used were genuine.
Fleur was unaware of Hermione's constantly changing expression as she stood beside her.
"Help me put him on the stretcher and move him somewhere else. This isn't a place for surgery."
As she spoke, Fleur untied the incorrectly applied bandages and examined the area where Nagini had bitten him.
The wound was still bright red and had not turned black. That was the only thing they could be grateful for.
Hermione helped Fleur, while several professors from the surrounding area also hurried over. Together, they carried Malfoy to the Hogwarts infirmary.
Once they entered the ward, the long surgery began.
"Where's Draco? What happened to him? Can anyone tell me?"
A girl wearing Slytherin robes with a Prefect's badge on her chest stumbled into the ward. She asked everyone she passed along the way, looking utterly haggard.
She had only learned from the others that Draco was a hero—and that the hero had been seriously injured.
"He's still in surgery."
Hermione squeezed Pansy's shoulder.
"Calm down. He'll be all right."
"What do you know, right? You came back with him?"
Pansy shook Hermione's shoulders as though she had finally grasped at a lifeline.
The battle had taken an unexpected turn, with one twist following another. Those who had not been there could never have imagined that so many reversals could occur in such a short time, much less explain them clearly.
"I don't want to talk about it."
Hermione's voice was filled with guilt. She turned her head towards the stone wall, her mind filled with those memories that had been lost and then recovered.
Pansy sat blankly on the bench, staring at the ceiling as she recalled the farewell from that day.
After class, Malfoy had invited her to Madame Parthoff's tea house. Sitting in her chair and imagining all sorts of romantic reasons for the invitation, Pansy had never expected Malfoy to reveal his true feelings to her.
"I may have to leave again."
Malfoy raised the teacup from the table and took a small sip.
"Where? To that mysterious man's place?"
Pansy immediately stood up and asked in a panic.
"That's all I can tell you. I just want you to be mentally prepared."
"You've grown up. I believe you're someone I can trust with my secrets."
Malfoy gently patted the girl's head.
"Trust me. I'll come back safely."
Malfoy had said it calmly.
Then he left.
The farewell had been somewhat abrupt—perhaps even too abrupt—but it was Pansy's last memory of meeting Malfoy.
The girl had not made any unreasonable attempt to persuade him to stay. Instead, she had chosen to accept it.
Because she knew that, given the boy's personality, trying to stop him would only make things worse. It was better to let him concentrate on what he needed to do.
"Is this what you meant by coming back safely?"
The girl suddenly began sobbing, wiping away her tears with both hands.
Suddenly, a pair of icy hands settled on her shoulders, gently stroking them in comfort.
"Draco will be all right."
Luna had a faint smile on her lips, but her grey eyes still held worry.
The next few hours were agonising. The two girls were terrified of hearing bad news.
Only Luna seemed to remain in relatively good spirits, quietly whistling an unknown tune.
Eventually, Pansy fell asleep against Luna's shoulder, while Hermione continued staring blankly at the wooden door in front of her.
Suddenly, the door creaked open.
The three girls immediately stood up and surrounded Fleur as she stepped out.
"Draco, is he all right?" Pansy asked anxiously.
"Keep your voice down."
Fleur did not give them a particularly friendly look.
"He's out of danger for now, but he still needs to be observed. If you keep making noise, his injuries might worsen."
Hearing this, Pansy immediately covered her mouth.
After learning that Draco was no longer in mortal danger, a genuine smile appeared on the girl's haggard face, while tears once again seemed to well up in her dry eyes.
Hermione sat back down in her chair and sighed in relief.
"Has he woken up?" Luna pressed.
"No. I already told you—the patient needs to rest now."
Fleur rubbed her shoulders wearily.
During the surgery, she had been repeatedly amazed by Draco's willpower. Despite such severe injuries and the suppression caused by the curses, he had still been able to fight Voldemort.
It was truly astonishing.
"I take back what I said. He isn't just a pretty boy."
She silently recalled the conversation she had had with her sister earlier.
Then she walked away quickly, leaving the worried girls behind.
Just as she turned the corner to retrieve some gauze, her foot seemed to bump into something.
"Dobby greets you."
A house-elf looked up at her, shaking its head as it spoke.
"Young Master Draco has a letter for you, and a bottle."
Fleur took the envelope and the bottle.
Her fingers involuntarily tightened around them.
The pale yellow envelope was slightly crumpled, while the bottle contained a silvery-white gas.
The envelope was labelled in bold black ink:
A Letter to Miss Delacour
The moment Fleur saw those words, her heart skipped a beat.
A deep purple wax seal was firmly affixed to the envelope. Fleur tried to tear it open, only to feel a slight burning sensation on her fingertips.
If she did not open it herself, the envelope would spontaneously combust and consume the letter.
She began reading slowly.
The letter said:
«To Miss Fleur Delacour,
I'm sorry, but I really don't want to disturb you, seeing how peaceful and fulfilling your life is now. It would be like throwing a pebble into a calm lake, creating gentle ripples before a storm.
However, from the standpoint of a trustworthy custodian, your memories should still be returned to you.
Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve should be available for use. He's very generous, and it can directly return your memories to where they originally belonged.
Finally, I'd like to say…
The days we spent going on adventures together were very enjoyable.
Even though you always caused me trouble.
—Draco Malfoy»
The slightly yellowed parchment in Fleur's hand began to tremble, and her heart started pounding uncontrollably.
She had always believed that the missing memory in her life was insignificant.
Don't dwell on past regrets. Live in the present.
There was no need to grieve over past regrets or wallow in melancholy.
But now, she suddenly felt that the memory might be incredibly important to her.
"Professor Dumbledore, I need to borrow your Pensieve."
Fleur immediately found Dumbledore.
The old man was lying in a hospital bed in a nearby ward, reading a new copy of The Quibbler.
"My office is on the eighth floor, and the password is 'sour soda.'"
"By the way, how did Draco's surgery go?"
The old man called out from behind her.
"Perfect!"
Fleur answered without turning her head.
Soon, many people saw the girl untie her nurse's white cap, tie up her long silver hair, and run down the corridor.
Not long afterwards, the ugly stone gargoyle leapt aside, and Fleur entered the office and found the Pensieve.
The Pensieve performed its intended function.
Silvery-white vapour drifted and dissipated within the basin.
Fleur took a deep breath and decisively lowered her head into it.
Memories began flashing back and forth.
Retrieving one's own memories seemed to be faster than viewing someone else's. Soon, Fleur lifted her head, revealing her swan-like neck.
She stood there for a moment, her alluring blue eyes slightly moist.
All the lost memories had returned to her mind.
Her slender white fingers clenched tightly, and her heart seemed to leap into her throat.
I had been trying to distance myself from him, but in the end, we became so close during the battle.
Fortunately, I didn't cause him any trouble.
Her heart was captivated once again.
Memories of the past seemed tangled and intertwined with the present, like a fawn rubbing against her or a mischievous ball of yarn being toyed with by a cat's paws.
It took considerable effort to sort everything out after clearing her thoughts.
"Is he safe now?"
Her first reaction was to rush back to the boy lying on the hospital bed and check on his condition again.
Even though she had personally performed the entire surgery, she knew all too well how severe his injuries had been.
Her long, slender legs were already moving again, unable to contain her eagerness.